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Chapter 1
As Sara stepped off the elevator and stared at the door of the JDC, Inc. Executive Offices, she felt a slight flutter of nerves in her stomach. Today was the day. This was the culmination of weeks of exchanging e-mails, negotiating rates, discussing preferences, going over schedules, and meeting for food sampling. It was finally a done deal. She was signing her biggest client to date. Her fledgling catering business, Edible Innovations, had officially arrived.
With a quick glance at her watch, she opened the main door and stepped inside. She approached the receptionist desk with a smile and said, “Hello. My name is Sara Westing. I’m from Edible Innovations. I’ve got a 2:30 p.m. appointment with Chris Marks.”
The receptionist winced slightly, and apologized. “I’m sorry, Ms. Westing. Mr. Marks was pulled into an emergency meeting about ten minutes ago. He asked me to express his apologies. Let me see if Mr. James is ready for you. You’ll be meeting with him instead if that’s okay? Have a seat please. Would you like water? Coffee? Tea?”
Sara’s smile dimmed very slightly as she said, “That’s perfectly fine. And, no, thank you for the offer.”
Moving to the reception area, Sara sat down and panicked a little bit. Would this delay the signing of the contracts? Would she be forced to go through the same dance with this Mr. James that she had gone through with Chris Marks? Crap, she thought, with a slight frown. Maybe today wasn’t the day, after all.
With a mental shrug, she glanced around to take in her surroundings. The lobby was spacious, but unexpectedly comfortable. There were two very large distressed leather couches and a few chairs scattered throughout. The tables were a dark, heavy wood. It gave off a man-cave vibe, which kind of made sense for a PR firm that represented primarily sports stars. The wall was decorated with a mixture of abstract art and framed magazine covers. Examining the prints more closely, she spotted one of her particular favorites.
As she continued to survey the lobby, she heard the receptionist murmur, “Deacon, Your two thirty from Edible Innovations has arrived. Are you ready?”
Sara froze in her seat upon hearing the name. Deacon James? She mentally crossed her fingers that this wasn’t the same Deacon James she had slept with during her junior year of college who never even bothered to call her afterward. Ridiculously mind-blowing sex, followed by complete radio silence. While she wouldn’t categorize the incident as heartbreaking, it was still pretty freaking rude.
She smirked a bit with the memory
of his exit strategy. It was actually pretty comical, looking back. There had been no “Hey. So um…thanks for dropping the panties. I’m gonna go now” or “Later. I’ll call you sometime” for Deacon. Nope. No words at all afterward. He just got dressed, gave her a somewhat detached smile and a handshake as he left.
To be fair, she hadn’t really expected a phone call after his magnificent exit. He had literally disappeared. She still wondered what exactly had prompted the whole thing, but decided now wasn’t the best time for a trip down memory lane.
Biting back a small giggle, she tried to focus on the moment at hand. Even two thousand miles away from where she’d gone to school, odds were, this had to be the same guy. Deacon wasn’t exactly a common name. Ugh. This could complicate things.
She was startled out of her reverie by a low male voice at the reception desk. She glanced up. Yup. That was totally him. Even with his back to her, there was no mistaking the broad shoulders, the lean lines of his body, and that dark hair. It was a bit shorter now, but yeah. It was totally him.
Not sure what to expect, she just pasted a professional smile on her lips and waited for him to turn around and face her. When he finished the exchange and turned around, he stood stock-still. He blinked and then his eyes slowly lit with recognition. He had the good grace to look somewhat embarrassed for a second. Then, almost as if a switch had flipped, his features went immediately and impressively blank. By the time he had reached the middle of the lobby, the expression on his face had morphed into a bland, professional smile.
Gauging the situation, Sara knew exactly what she had to do. For the sake of the contract and for the sake of her pride, she stood up. Stepping toward him, she extended her hand and said, “Hello. Mr. James? It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Sara Westing from Edible Innovations.”
His eyes squinted almost imperceptibly as he surveyed her face. He cocked his head slightly for just a moment, as if to say, “You’ve got no idea who I am?” Then, quick as a blink, he schooled his face back into that bland smile and took her outstretched hand, shaking it firmly.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Westing,” he said. “Please call me Deacon. I hope you found our offices easily enough?”
After receiving her nod to the affirmative, he continued on, “I apologize for the confusion. Chris was pulled into a meeting, but he filled me in on the details. Right this way.”
With another nod and a smile, she said, “Certainly,” and followed him back to what she presumed would be his office. While she was walking behind him, she was able to fully appreciate just how very kind time had been to Deacon James.
Back in college he had been an attractive guy. He was tall, lean, and always had this perpetual smirk on his face that made you want to know what he found so funny. It had given him a boyish charm. His hair had been a bit longer. Sara could still remember the feel of it on her fingertips.
Shaking her head and bringing herself back to the present, she noticed that his suit jacket was tailored in such a way that it displayed the fact he was anything but lanky now. With the beginnings of a five o’clock shadow looming, there was nothing boyish about him anymore. Deacon James was all man. He was fucking hot.
As he came to stop, he opened the door to an office. It was decorated similarly to the lobby area. It was warm and inviting. He gestured to the sitting area, as if to indicate she should have a seat. Closing the door, he walked to his desk to pick up a bottle of water. Looking over at her, he asked, “Would you like anything to drink? Coffee? Tea? Water?”
She smiled and shook her head. “No,” she said, “your receptionist offered when I arrived. Thank you, though.”
Watching him move with practiced ease, Sara placed her slim briefcase down and made herself comfortable on the sofa. Sitting on the end nearest the armchair, she fully expected him to sit in the chair, but was somewhat nonplussed when he sat next to her on the sofa. While his proximity wasn’t exactly inappropriate, it was a little unnerving.
Ignoring the slight crackle of tension in the air, she turned to look at him as he spoke.
“So I presume Chris mentioned the issues that we had with our previous caterer, right? We appreciate your patience during the vetting and negotiation process. I hope you can understand why we were so gun-shy to sign a long-term contract with anyone again, Ms. Westing.”
Redirecting her thoughts back to the matter at hand, she winced and confirmed. “Yes. He did mention the listeria incident. While I can assure you that the Edible Innovations kitchen follows food safety laws to the letter, the process will be a lot easier to monitor since we’ll be primarily cooking from your kitchen in most cases. Frankly, I was surprised to learn you had an industrial kitchen on the premises, though.”
With a slight wave of her hand, she added, “By the way, call me Sara.”
With the barest hint of that smirk she remembered from college, he nodded and said somewhat dryly, “Poisoning Ty Wellman, his agent, and his mother with undercooked chicken really put things into perspective for us. And you’re right. We’ll be monitoring everything pretty closely for the first little bit. I’m sure you understand?”
“Absolutely,” she agreed with a nod, “If you have any questions about anything you see once the food prep begins, I’ll be happy to address any concerns. Would you like to take a moment to review the contract or are you okay with the agreement as is?”
She took that opportunity to extract the contract from her briefcase and place it on the table next to them.
As he adjusted his body to face her more directly on the couch and gestured to the paperwork on the table, he asked, “Sara, I know you and Chris hashed the contract out already, but I’d like to make one small change to it if possible?”
She cleared her throat, tilted her head, and asked, “What sort of change did you have in mind?”
“Nothing drastic,” he assured her. “Just the portion where it indicates Chris will be doing most of the oversight. I had a little bit of experience working in a restaurant kitchen back in college. I feel like I might be a bit more qualified to spot any potential food safety hazards. Plus, he’s going to be traveling a bit more in the upcoming weeks. It’s kind of difficult to oversee and be a point of contact when you’re not here. Is that all right?”
He looked at her expectantly.
She allowed herself to mentally relax just a bit. It made things a little awkward, perhaps, but it wasn’t a deal breaker. She nodded in understanding.
“That makes perfect sense. I’m perfectly fine with the change. I want to make sure everyone is comfortable before we move forward with the agreement. Was there anything else you wanted to discuss?”
He shook his head, rose from his seat on the couch, gestured back to the paperwork on the table, then asked, “If you’ll just make that small change and e-mail me the corrected contract, I’ll get the necessary signatures and have it couriered over to your office?”
Deacon walked over to his desk, grabbed his business card and handed it to her.
She nodded in agreement and rose to her feet as well. As she gathered the paperwork and her briefcase, she said easily, “It’s a quick change. I’ll have the updates over to you this afternoon. You can sign it, fax it back. You don’t need to have them couriered to me. Chris mentioned your quarterly staff meeting was scheduled for next Tuesday, right? I can just pick the originals up when I come in to tour the kitchens and start planning the menu on Friday.”
As he stepped around the table and headed toward the door to his office, he said, “Sure. Let me walk you out?”
She gave a single nod, and smiled affably as he opened the door and followed her back to the lobby. She felt his scrutiny, but kept walking forward. She tried not to focus on the fact that he was probably examining her as thoroughly as she had examined him on the way into his office.
Having reached the reception desk, he turned briefly to her and held out his hand. As she reached for it, he said, “Sara. Thanks for coming in to go over the co
ntracts with me. I look forward to working with you.”
She gave a polite smile, a single nod, and said, “I look forward to working with you too, Deacon. See you next week.”
With that, she straightened her shoulders and walked toward the door. She could feel his eyes on her back still, so she calmly exited through the lobby doors and made her way toward the elevator. As the office doors closed behind her, she pressed the down arrow for the elevator and waited.
