do his job.
When his parents had divorced almost a decade ago, he’d jumped on the chance to break away from exactly that. It was the perfect opportunity to cash out his college fund, which gave him the spring board he needed to finally get his company off the ground and prove to investors he was worth their time. It had also meant for the first time in his life his father didn’t own a controlling share of his social and public presence.
And now he was going to have a board-appointed shadow stepping in to play that role of “say what people want to hear, not what you want to say.” Fuck.
Chapter 3
Kenzie stepped off the silent elevator. A wall of glass stared back at her, the frosted name RINSLET telling her she was in the right place. A black-lacquered desk was visible from the hallway, and the leather chairs and coffee table in the front lobby of the office matched.
The girl behind the desk looked up and smiled as Kenzie approached. The receptionist was a stark contrast to her surroundings, in jeans and a baggy tee that hid any figure she might have had. “Good morning, can I help you?”
Kenzie didn’t know what to think of the place, but she kept her confusion off her face. “I’m Mackenzie Carter, I have an eleven a.m. appointment with Mr. Johnston and Mr. McAllister.”
“Of course.” The brunette gestured toward the seats. “Someone should be right with you.”
Kenzie perched on the edge of one of the overstuffed chairs, not wanting to sink in and have her pencil skirt slide up. The personalized snippets of her presentation skipped through her thoughts. She had printouts in her bag in case she needed paper visuals, her laptop was ready to hook up to a projector if they had one, and she knew her pitch backward and forward.
She crossed her legs and drummed her fingers on her knees, letting her attention trip around the room. Not that there was much to see. Prints that were mostly primary colors hung in black squares on white walls. The screaming coming from somewhere deep within the office was interesting. She wasn’t sure if it was cheering or cussing. Or both.
A movement caught her attention. A glimpse of brown, spiked hair as someone rounded the corner, walking backward, attention on a short blonde keeping him company. It couldn’t be him. There were a lot of well-built guys with brown hair. Her fingertips and lips pulsed with unformed memories from Saturday. There was no way. Why would coffee-shop guy be here?
He turned, and her stomach flipped. It was Mr. G4M3G0D himself. She had to clench her jaw to keep it from dropping open. He’d tossed a sport jacket and black tie over his T-shirt—his version of dressing up maybe?—and he wore it better than should be legal.
His eyes met hers, and she pasted a smile in place. He raised an eyebrow and took a step toward her.
The petite blonde—she had to be at least a foot shorter than him—grabbed his arm and spun him away. The woman wrapped her arms around his neck. He returned the hug, lifting her off the ground. When he put her down, she gave him a quick peck on the cheek and then whispered something in his ear.
Kenzie would have felt awkward spying on the intimate moment if ambivalence weren’t racing through her veins. So much for fantasies of picking up where they’d left off when she returned his jacket. Guilt smattered her disappointment. She shouldn’t even be wishing for another morning with someone else’s guy, but that didn’t stop her imagination from teasing her.
“Ms. Carter?” A deep baritone startled her, and she spun to face a man who must have come from the other side of the office. “I’m Zach Johnston. Thanks for making time for us this morning.”
She stood to shake his hand. He wore a pressed Oxford and beige slacks, and even made the ponytail of pale hair at the base of his neck look slick. He radiated composed and car salesman. But not used cars, she’d give him that much. Only high-end ones.
She took his offered hand, impressed at the firm, but not aggressive, handshake and warm grip. “Not a problem, Mr. Johnston.” She made sure her smile was genuine. “I just hope I can help.”
“Call me Zach, or this is going to get old fast.” His expression stayed pleasant. “Scott.” He only half turned away from her to angle himself toward coffee-shop guy.
Getting