It was over, and the opportunity to prove how flexible ACM could be to one of the largest, most powerful companies in the world had already flown right out of my grasp.
It’s too damn late to worry about it…now.
I’d frozen, stumbling through my prepared presentation instead of finding a way to address Lancaster’s immediate needs.
I wasn’t exactly spontaneous.
Never had been.
I planned, I executed that plan to the letter, and then I conquered.
Throwing a very large wrench into my well-prepared pitch had entirely crippled me.
I liked everything neat and tidy, and my lack of flexibility had jumped up and bit me in the ass.
Sure, they said they’d be in touch, but the message of don’t-call-us-we’ll-call-you had come across loud and clear at the end of my presentation.
I’d never hear from Lancaster International, and honestly, if I couldn’t sell our services to a company who needed a crisis manager as much as they did at that moment, who was I going to be able to convince in the future?
Mom could shift gears on the spot, and use new information to her advantage.
Problem was, I wasn’t my mother, and probably never would be as sharp as she’d been in this business.
Me? I was a spontaneity failure, and I was just going to have to live with the fact that I’d bombed a critical presentation she could have skated through.
Relief flooded my uptight body as I flopped into my seat by the window, and glanced at the empty space beside me, hoping it would remain unoccupied. There was a large armrest between me and the recliner next door, but things felt a little awkward when I was traveling alone.
I never knew whether to talk to the person next to me, or just pretend that they weren’t there. I hadn’t really flown enough yet to know the etiquette of frequent business fliers.
My phone pinged just as I was awkwardly shoving my carry-on into the small cubby provided. I scrambled for my purse and rummaged through the contents until I found my phone.
I looked at the text.
Kylie: How did it go?
Me: Don’t ask. I don’t have Mom’s charm. I doubt Lancaster will be calling anytime soon. I should have taken the domestic clients and let you do this trip. We’d probably have our largest client yet if you’d done the presentation.
Kylie: It can’t be that bad. Did you meet the president of Lancaster? I’ve never seen him, but I’ve heard he’s pretty hot.
Hot? The CEO of Lancaster International was hot? Obviously, Kylie knew far more about the family than I did. When I thought about billionaire CEOs who ran mammoth companies, it brought to mind gray-haired grandfathers who were older than dirt. Apparently, this particular CEO was younger than I’d thought. Either that, or my best friend had suddenly gotten a fetish for men old enough to be her grandparent.
Me: I wouldn’t know. He wasn’t there. I imagine he was probably still sleeping after causing a scandal that I didn’t know about until three minutes before the meeting. Long story. I’ll explain later.
I felt tears well up in my eyes, but I blinked them back. Part of me felt like I’d not only failed my company, but my deceased mother, too.
Kylie: I’m sure everything went fine. You worry too much. Give yourself a break. You were used to everything being neat and tidy in corporate law. PR is really messy. I hope you at least managed to find a gorgeous Brit and have a fling. That sexy accent in the bedroom would be enough to make any woman have her first screaming orgasm.
I rolled my eyes. Kylie Hart wasn’t only the amazing director at Ashworth Crisis Management; she’d been my best friend since grade school. She, and our other friend, Macy, were the only ones who knew that I’d never had the elusive big O with any of the men I’d dated. The supposed monumental event that my misguided friend just knew was going to change my life and the way I looked at myself. Kylie was beyond eager to find my Mr. Orgasm.
I, however, didn’t even think about it much anymore.
Me: No fling. No orgasm.
Personally, I was convinced that the female orgasm during sex was probably highly overrated. I’d had two sexual relationships. A woman didn’t get to the age of thirty-two without sleeping with a guy. Okay. Yeah. Sex was pleasant with the right person, but I was convinced the screaming pleasure women talked about was like a unicorn: I wanted to believe it existed, but the proof was pretty damn elusive.
“You’ve never had an orgasm. Seriously? How is that even possible?”
I froze as a deep, definitely British male voice sounded right beside me.
Startled, I jerked my gaze from my phone to the previously empty space next to me, only to meet a pair of sexy green eyes that were staring at me in total disbelief.
When in the hell did this British Adonis sit down?
Obviously, the seat next to me wasn’t going to stay vacant. In fact, there was one very muscular, very attractive body filling up the space that had been vacant just a few minutes ago.
All of my senses sprang to attention as I inhaled, and caught a whiff of the most alluring, masculine scent my olfactory receptors had ever experienced.
I fought the urge to just close my eyes and wallow in the fragrance that screamed hot, unbridled, deliciously dirty sex. I had no idea how I recognized that since I’d never personally indulged in that kind of sexual encounter. Ever.
I squirmed in my seat. The guy was close. Too close. In fact, he was leaning sideways in my direction so he could…
I flipped my phone over so he couldn’t see it, and then leaned back to avoid whatever sexy pheromones this man seemed to exude in abundance. “You’re reading my texts? Who does that?”
I swallowed hard as I put a hand on his shoulder to push him over, so he wasn’t encroaching on my personal space.
He moved like he suddenly realized that he was being incredibly rude.
I flipped my cell phone over again, and my fingers fired off a brief message to Kylie.
Me: Gotta go. Taking off. Catch you at home.
I quickly got out of the text window, put my phone in airplane mode, and shoved it back into my purse without looking at the jerk sitting next to me.
Like this entire day hasn’t been crappy enough?
Of course the guy sitting next to me is a creeper! It’s the perfect end to a really bad day. Perfect. Just. Freaking. Perfect.
He straightened up in his seat completely as he finally spoke. “You looked upset, like you were going to cry, so I read your messages to find out why you looked so unhappy. I found your texts…fascinating.”
I turned my eyes to him again, and took a long, hard look at my offender, now that he was back in his own space.
I was angry, but I wasn’t blind. The man was gorgeous, and judging by the way his peridot-green eyes were looking back at me, I could tell he was also slightly…amused.
I had to admit that he was the most attractive creeper I’d ever seen.
I gawked back at him because I could. He was staring at me, so I proceeded to evaluate him thoroughly, without a single ounce of remorse for blatantly checking him out.
He was probably in his early to mid-thirties. The way he wore his dark-gray custom suit made him seem…sophisticated. He appeared to be confident to the point of arrogance. Everything about him was immaculate, from his dark, thick hair to the way his subtle cologne made me want to lean closer so I could inhale the scent until I was drunk on it.