“Now, where were we before I left you all alone in the dark?”

He placed two fingers under Kacey’s chin.

“Right about here,” Kacey replied, pressing her body to his, not about to erect any barriers that would interfere with the raw, sexual awakening he’d stirred inside of her. Though shocked by the intensity of her need to be near him, she loved the sensation of isolation and privacy that descended on her as she stood in his arms.

Between the slow kisses that he placed on her exposed skin, his hands crept downward, moving along her spine until they clasped her buttocks in a firm caress and crushed her soft womanhood against his rigid sex, fusing them together like two pattern pieces perfectly joined at the seam.

Succumbing to his tantalizing move, Kacey opened her mouth and took his tongue deep into her mouth, letting his languid thrusts satisfy a thirst for Leon Archer that she felt might never be quenched.

ANITA BUNKLEY

is the author of many successful mainstream novels and novellas and is enjoys writing romance for her many fans. A member of the Texas Institute of Letters and an NAACP Image Award nominee, she is the recipient of a 2007 Career Achievement Award from RT Book Reviews. Anita lives in Houston, Texas, with her husband, Crawford.

Boardroom Seduction
Anita Bunkley

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To my husband, Crawford, with love.

Dear Reader,

Living on the Texas Gulf coast means lots of sunshine, extremely hot summers and, of course, opportunities to swim nearly year round. However, I am originally from Ohio, where the winters are long and the summers are short, so I have experienced, and enjoyed, living in both climates. My inspiration for Boardroom Seduction is centered on the many differences between the urban East Coast lifestyle and the more relaxed Texas way of life, and how such differences impact a romantic relationship.

While preparing for this story, I thought about my own experiences when I first arrived in the Houston area. As I began to explore the unusual, wonderful aspects of the Texas coast, I fell in love with the climate, the food, the outdoor lifestyle and, of course, the people. Swimsuits are a big part of a woman’s wardrobe in this sun-splashed climate, so what better occupation for my heroine than a swimsuit designer? And so Kacey Parker was born!

As you travel between New York and Texas with Kacey and Leon, I hope you will feel the pain of their dilemma as they test their abilities to accept new worlds and learn to appreciate each other’s choices.

I hope you enjoy my fun-in-the-sun romance as we cross geographical borders and watch love blossom between two very talented and devoted characters.

Enjoy! If you want to drop me a line, please email me at arbun@sbcglobal.net.

Read with love!

Anita Bunkley

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 1

“And finally, here’s my showstopper. I call this one Sheer Double Dip,” Kacey Parker announced with pride, moving to stand beside the final photo in her PowerPoint presentation. She clicked the remote control and sent the image of a leggy model in a hot pink monokini and a dazzling bronze tan onto the screen. When the sultry image emerged, gasps of approval erupted from the two people seated at the conference table at Leeman’s Retailers, Inc.

“This is the only swimsuit in my SunKissed line that looks totally natural when dry, but becomes sexily opaque when wet,” Kacey went on, sliding her gaze toward Steve Hadley, eager to catch her boss’s reaction.

At least he isn’t frowning, and that’s good, Kacey decided, hopeful that she had impressed him enough to green-light her swimsuit designs for his chain of department stores.

“Hmm, see-through fabric?” Ariana Mendio, the vice president of merchandising for the upscale department store, murmured. “That’ll make for some stunning surprises when the ladies get out of the water,” she noted in her well-modulated Italian accent.

Kacey smiled in agreement, happy to have Ariana, who’d been with Leeman’s for eighteen years, on her side. The woman was an absolute fixture at the company and her opinion carried weight.

“Surprises? Absolutely,” Kacey agreed with a nod in Ariana’s direction. “The fabric is a new synthetic that designers are calling Naughty Net. It’s soft, durable and becomes extremely sheer when water hits it.”

Kacey took a deep breath, pleased, so far, with her presentation. She’d joined Leeman’s as a sales clerk eight years ago, and her warm personality and flair for design had helped her move into the position of director of special promotions. In that job, she’d gained valuable knowledge about what buyers wanted, expected and would pay dearly for. A competitive swimmer in college, Kacey especially loved working on promotional events in women’s sportswear and swimwear, where she enjoyed pulling together dramatic displays of the functional yet attractive apparel that drew customers’ attention.

However, as fulfilling and demanding as her current job was, once she left the store, she dedicated herself to her dream job—becoming a swimsuit designer. Over the past year she created her portfolio and when she showed it to Ariana, her coworker immediately took it directly to Steve Hadley, who was so impressed, he invited Kacey to show him more of what she could do.

“Is this fabric readily available?” Steve asked, jotting notes in the margins of Kacey’s portfolio.

“Right now, only from China,” she answered, wishing she had better news. “But it makes this one-piece the sexiest swimsuit any woman could ever want. Just look at the detail. The plunging neckline, low scooped back and high-cut legs.”

“Specialty fabrics could add thousands to production costs,” he mused as he flipped through Kacey’s proposal, a slight frown bridging his thick black eyebrows.

Kacey paused, inhaled and swallowed her apprehension, aware that her specs related to costs and materials would require a significant financial commitment at a time when upscale stores like Leeman’s were nervously watching the bottom line.

“I know,” she agreed. “However, I’m hoping to find better rates per unit in Thailand,” she acknowledged, setting aside her remote control. “I’m sourcing that now.”

Finished with her presentation, Kacey walked to the far side of the room and turned up the lights, allowing the Manhattan skyline to loom dark and gray in the expanse of glass windows that made up one wall. Kacey squinted at the heavy April rain pounding the buildings and slicking the skyline, weary of the thunderstorm that had started during the night and continued to rage. She was definitely not looking forward to a crowded train ride home to Harlem later in the day.

After taking a seat at the conference table across from her boss, Kacey looked directly at Steve Hadley, prepared to expand her pitch. “I know the specialty fabric could run up production costs, but the expense would pay off in the end. Using Naughty Net on the Sheer Double Dip would make it an instant bestseller.”

“I love it,” Ariana cut in, cooing her words in her sexy Italian voice as she slipped her fingers through a mass of white-blond, shoulder-length hair. Even though she’d lived in America for thirty years and was a naturalized citizen, Ariana took care to maintain her accent, which she laid on thick to dramatic effect when she wanted to make a point. “I adore all eight styles. Great line, Kacey. Wonderful photos. Linette pulled off some very attractive shots.”

“Right. Linette is the best,” Kacey agreed, referring to Linette Grier, Kacey’s best friend and an up-and-coming photographer specializing in sportswear photos. “She’s been so busy lately, I was lucky to get her.”

“Ah, well, I’m glad you did,” Ariana said. “Very nice. Well, Kacey, all I can say is that your designs are spot-on,” she continued. “I especially like Twisted Bliss, the black one-piece that shows off just the right amount of skin but still offers full bottom coverage. Excellent choice for, uh…mature women who still keep in shape, shall we say?” She chuckled, winking at Kacey before turning her attention to Steve Hadley. “Older women with disposable cash are our most important demographic, right?”

Hadley inclined his head in brief acknowledgment of Ariana’s point. “Kacey, I think your designs show promise and the line is worth exploring,” he stated, choosing his words very carefully, without conveying his decision. “However, because you’re an employee at Leeman’s, it makes for a bit of a sticky situation.”

“Conflict of interest, and all that?” Kacey injected.

Steve nodded at Kacey before going on. “Right. You’d have to leave Leeman’s and become a contractor if we decide to proceed with this. But first, let’s get some samples made and assess the project, okay?”

“Whatever will work,” Kacey rushed to say, willing to do anything necessary to move her career as a swimsuit designer forward. After all, her goal was much larger than to simply do custom work for one retail outlet. She wanted to have her own design firm, have control of her future, and launch a creative explosion that would make hers a household name.

“However,” Steve was saying, “We must source that specialty fabric at a much better price to make the investment pay off.” He licked his lower lip in thought, his eyes riveted on the scantily clad model whose image still filled the screen. “I’m thinking that a totally domestic production would be the best option. Save shipping costs and time.”

“I agree,” Kacey replied, encouraged by the fact that he was leaning toward carrying SunKissed by Kacey in his fourteen Leeman’s stores. All he needed was reassurance that the product would turn a profit.

“What about manufacturing in Mexico?” Ariana offered.

With a shift, Kacey smoothed the skirt of her burgundy power suit, crossed her arms and placed them on the table. Leaning toward her coworker, she made a slight grimace of concern. “I checked out a few south-of-the-border plants, but didn’t have much luck. However, there are two manufacturers I’m still looking into.”

“Kacey,” Steve started, clearing his throat. “I want to be clear. I agreed to take a look at your collection because I think you have a good eye for what women want. You also have a great sense of style and I like your swimsuits very much.”

Kacey beamed her thanks, but said nothing, holding her breath as Hadley continued.

“But,” he went on, “I have concerns about the timing. It’s very late into the spring shopping season to introduce a new line of swimwear.”

“But women buy swimsuits year-round,” Kacey countered, pushing tendrils of highlighted bangs away from her face, now wishing she’d had her spiral curls trimmed during yesterday’s visit to the salon. However, she’d been in a rush to get out of the beauty shop and home to put the finishing touches on today’s presentation, which it seemed, so far, was going pretty well.

“Exactly,” Ariana, stated, agreeing with Kacey about year-round swimsuit purchases. “Winter cruises to the tropics, heated pools in homes and hotels, hot tubs in private residences. That’s what keeps women buying swimwear through all the seasons. I know we’re getting a late start, Steve, but if we can source the Naughty Net and include the Sheer Double Dip style, I think SunKissed by Kacey could be flying out of our stores in six weeks.”

“Hmm,” Steve murmured, fingers laced and tented in thought. “Only if we could get fast turnaround on production.” He shifted his body to focus on Ariana. “What about Archer Industries? We’ve worked with them before and always had good results,” he remarked. “What do you think?”

“Good possibility,” Ariana agreed. “The Archer factory has a reputation for fast turnarounds, high-quality production and cost-effective shipping. They handle quite a few private labels.”

“Old man Archer came through with that rare Hawaiian print we needed for the menswear line last year,” Steve added.

“Yeah, and saved us a ton of money, too,” Ariana agreed.

With a lift of her finger, Kacey joined in. “You’re referring to Archer Industries in Texas, right?”

“Yes,” Hadley replied. “Rockport. On the Gulf Coast. Not much else is there but the Archer factory. That family has been in business for years. The founder, Leon Archer, is getting on in years, but he runs that shop like a well-oiled machine. He’s a dying breed…a good old-fashioned businessman who takes pride in doing a first class job, no matter how large or small.”

“I phoned and sent an email to Archer,” Kacey said, eager to let her boss know that she’d already considered the family-owned firm that had done quite a bit of business with Leeman’s over the years. “I just received an email this morning to contact Nona James, the quality control manager. I’m going to call her as soon as we finish here.” Kacey began to gather the papers she’d strewn over the conference table, anxious to return to her office, get on her computer and tie up all the loose ends related to her proposal.

“Don’t bother with that,” Steve stated. “Mr. Archer deserves a personal call from me. He’s a throwback to the old days…likes to do business with the person in charge. In fact, I’ll call him right now.”

Kacey watched as Steve reached for his handheld, scrolled through his address book and punched in a number. Within seconds he was talking to Mr. Archer, giving the manufacturer an overview of Kacey’s proposed swimsuit line.

“Sure, sure,” Steve agreed in an expansive voice after several minutes of conversation. “The designer, Kacey Parker, can come down, meet with you and we’ll go from there.” He turned to Kacey, placing a hand over his phone as he whispered, “He thinks he can do it. And he would like to meet with you at the plant tomorrow afternoon. Go ahead and book a flight to Rockport,” he said before returning his attention to his conversation.

“You’ll have to fly into Corpus Christi…the closest big city,” Ariana offered in a hushed tone. “Rent a car. The factory is on the outskirts of town. About half an hour from the airport.”

Kacey nodded, grabbed a pen and began to jot down the instructions that Ariana was giving her while Steve ended his call.

Once he had finished and refocused on Kacey, he told her, “Take your portfolio, fabric samples and proposal to Texas and sell this line to Archer. He’s the man we want.”

Kacey grinned, drew in a gasp of surprise and then sighed. Had her boss actually given her the green light on her proposal? Was SunKissed by Kacey going to become a reality after so many months of dreaming and planning? She pushed back her chair and stood, papers clutched in one hand, her heartbeat increasing by the second.

“Then, you’re saying, it’s a go?” she prompted, needing to hear the words from Steve Hadley himself that her swimsuit line was headed into production.

“Yes, it’s a tentative go. And if you manage a five percent reduction in overall manufacturing costs, there’ll be a nice cash bonus in it for you,” he offered, sounding strongly supportive of Kacey’s project.

“Oh, I’m sure I can do that, Mr. Hadley. Five percent won’t be a problem. Trust me. I’ll work this out.”

“I hope so. I’m impressed with your designs, Kacey, and if we can have product in stock by mid-June, I feel confident our customers will buy it.”

Kacey struggled to appear calm, though she was desperate to scream with joy. She’d been dreaming about this day ever since she started her career in retail merchandising. Now, she had a real shot at shifting her focus toward designing for the masses instead of setting up displays and running in-store contests. She could hardly wait to start the journey.

While Kacey headed toward the conference room door, Steve remained seated, looking over his eyeglasses at her as he advised, “Pack well. You might be in Texas for a while.”

“A while?” Kacey quipped, arching a shapely brown eyebrow in his direction. “Certainly Mr. Archer and I can accomplish all we need to do in a day. Two at the most.”

“No, if all goes well, I want you to stick around there.”

Kacey glanced suspiciously at her boss. “For how long?”

“For as long as it’ll take to get SunKissed by Kacey into my stores. No need to rush back here, only to fly back and forth every few weeks,” Hadley explained. “I know old man Archer will do his best to accommodate our time frame, but since this is such a rush job, and a risky midseason production as well, we can’t afford any mistakes. He and I will iron out the contract details before you get there. I want you to stay close, oversee production and ensure an on-time delivery.”

Kacey assessed Steve Hadley with dread in her heart, doubting he understood the enormity of what he was asking of her. Leaving New York City to spend God knows how long in rural Texas was not something she looked forward to. What in the world would she do for fun in a tiny Gulf Coast town with an old man as her business contact?

Suffer in silence, she guessed, prepared to sacrifice the lifestyle she loved to see her designs come to life.

Chapter 2

Back in her cubicle, Kacey immediately booked her flight to Corpus Christi, reserved a rental car and then phoned her friend Linette to share her good news. However, all Kacey got was the photographer’s voice mail, so she left a message for Linette to call her back as soon as possible, adding that she had exciting news to share.

That ought to get her attention, Kacey thought as she ended the connection. It was always difficult to reach Linette, who was constantly on the move as she traveled from one location shoot to another. Sometimes it took a week for them to finally catch up with each other due to their busy, on-the-go lifestyles.

Taking a moment to reflect on the impact of her presentation, Kacey pondered the future, a ripple of excitement feathering her insides. She’d begun working on her designs last year, using computer-assisted design (CAD) software that turned her detailed sketches into actual computer drawings. Printed pattern pieces placed on swaths of bold-colored fabric quickly morphed into the samples that she had personally sewn and fitted on models for Linette to photograph. And now, at last, Hadley was giving her the opportunity to create sexy, stylish swimwear that she knew customers would be thrilled to wear.

Hadley was damn sure impressed and Ariana is totally behind me, Kacey mused in satisfaction, realizing how much support she had at Leeman’s. If SunKissed by Kacey became the runaway hit she expected, her position with the chic retailer would open doors to all the exclusive shops on Rodeo Drive, as well as retailers like Bergdorf’s, Saks, and Neiman’s.

A competitive swimmer in college, Kacey loved challenges and loved to win. She knew her petite stature, flawless mocha skin and the thick brown hair that framed her face in curly tendrils made her look a lot younger and less savvy than she was. But at thirty-one, she had made plenty of hard decisions in her drive to become successful, and knew exactly where she wanted to go.

For more than a year, Kacey had labored over her drawing boards, studied the competition and focused on coming up with swimwear that would make such an impact on the marketplace that every retailer would clamor for her swimsuits. Even though the rights to her special label would belong to Leeman’s, Kacey knew the professional credit and boost in her fledgling design career were more than she’d ever dreamed of.

Leaving her computer, she went to stand at the large window behind her desk. Looking out, she swept her gaze over the towering buildings pressed together in midtown Manhattan. The steady rain continued to slick the traffic-clogged streets as dull gray clouds hovered above the tops of skyscrapers. She placed her palm against the glass and shivered. Too damn cold, she thought with a shudder, but that’s the way it could be in early April in New York. There’d even been a snow flurry last week, but she prayed that warm weather was on the way.

In the foggy distance, Kacey could barely discern the outline of the building where she hoped to live one day. Four blocks from Leeman’s, the newly renovated 780-square-foot apartment she dreamed about would be a vast improvement over the tiny closetlike studio in Harlem where she lived now. She’d been saving for two years to make the move, and now, if all went well, her Sun Kissed line would provide a much-needed boost in her income, allowing her to lease the new apartment in mid town.

But first, she had to go to Texas, get her designs into production, then into stores. And as much as she dreaded an extended stay in a small town like Rockport, she knew the trip would be a welcome break from the damp cold of the city.

“I’ve got to remain positive,” she murmured, deciding to treat her trip like a mini-vacation, though seriously doubting she’d be able to do anything fun while she was there. After all, she was going to Texas to work, not play, and there’d be little time to fool around.

A tap at her door brought Kacey out of her thoughts. Swinging around, she waved Ariana into the room, noticing the bemused expression on her colleague’s face.

“You really impressed Steve,” Ariana informed Kacey, sliding into the chair near Kacey’s desk.

“That’s what I hoped to do,” Kacey tossed back, returning to sit in front of her computer. “I’ve been working on this project for over a year, and I knew I’d only have one shot at getting him onboard.”

“Oh, he’s definitely behind you, honey. I’ve worked with Hadley for a long time and when he called Leon Archer personally from the conference room, I knew he was eager to move this project forward. He’s sold. Don’t think he’s ever been as excited about a new line before.”

“He’s never seen swimsuits like mine before,” Kacey countered with confidence.

“You’re right about that,” Ariana agreed, crossing her long legs and tilting back in her chair. She fluffed her bleached-white hair and puckered her full pink lips, a gesture that Kacey and her coworkers often mimicked when talking about Ariana. At fifty-six, Ariana Mendio was trim, shapely and still an alarmingly attractive woman. She’d been married three times; her current husband, Tony, was sixteen years her junior. He worked as a high-end menswear model for several fashion houses, a position that got Ariana and her boy-toy into exclusive society parties quite often. “SunKissed by Kacey is so sweet it could give a woman a toothache!” Ariana exclaimed with a giggle as she flicked her long fingers in the air toward Kacey.

Kacey laughed along with her coworker, shaking her head. “I don’t plan to inflict any pain—only pleasure.”

“I don’t know. That black satin thong looked like it could put a hurting on some very tender spots.”

“Please,” Kacey shot back with a grin. “You know you’re dying to wear it. In fact, I’m gonna send you the first manufacturer sample of that style as soon as it comes out of production. Size 8, right?” Kacey lifted a brow in question, her grin widening as she watched Ariana.

“Size 6, honey,” Ariana corrected with a downward tilt of her head and a sweep of one hand over her flat stomach. “I’ve been hitting the gym with Tony.”

“And it shows,” Kacey finished, giving Ariana the compliment she’d been fishing for.

“Anyway, about SunKissed,” Ariana went on. “I stopped by to tell you that Hadley wants me to get started on the marketing plan.”

“Sounds good,” Kacey replied.

“My thought is this. We position Leeman’s as the first shopping stop that women must make before taking off on their next trip to the beach, to the pool or wherever the sun might take them. There’s a swimsuit out there for every woman…”

“But finding the right one can take a whole lot of time,” Kacey finished.

“Exactly. Shopping for swimwear can be a traumatic experience, but the eight styles offered through SunKissed by Kacey make it a snap. I’m thinking our slogan could be ‘Why Shop Anywhere Else?’”

“Why indeed?” Kacey agreed. “I love it! The bikinis, monokinis, full-coverage one-piece suits and two-piece styles offer multiple choices, especially since you can mix and match the bottoms and the tops.”

A vigorous nod of assent from Ariana. “Your styles flatter all types of figures, and they’re done in such luscious fabrics,” she praised. “Archer Industries had better do a good job for us.”

“For real. What do you know about the company?” Kacey asked, curious about where she was headed tomorrow and how she would get along with the owner.

“Only that it’s a family-owned factory…. employs most of the residents in Rockport. And in those parts…the Archer name has clout.”

“Have you ever met Mr. Archer?”

Ariana shook her head. “No, but I’ve had more than a few conversations with him. He’s a tough old bird who runs his factory with an iron fist. All about business. No warm fuzzies there.”

“Gee, thanks for the warning,” Kacey said, screwing up one side of her mouth. “Sounds like I’m in for a real test of wills—and skills.”

“Well, don’t worry too much,” Ariana replied. “As long as you show up prepared to work long hours and take orders from a persnickety old man who really can run circles around his younger employees, you’ll do fine.”

“I’d better,” Kacey murmured, beginning to feel the pressure of what she’d gotten herself into. Launching this line was a huge responsibility, and success depended on one thing: the perfect execution of her designs. Would Archer Industries deliver? Was she ready to place her future in the hands of a grumpy old man with no heart who couldn’t possibly know what women want? He may not know, but I do, Kacey affirmed, determined to gain control of the process once she arrived in Rockport.

Chapter 3

Leon Archer Jr. drove his red Corvette convertible up the semicircular driveway that swept the front of his father’s house and parked directly at the front door. Sitting back in his seat, he slid one hand over the smooth steering wheel and studied the black sedan already parked in the drive, the car that belonged to Gerald Ayers, his father’s lawyer. What was going on? Why had his father summoned him to the house?

Leon had been a bit surprised when he arrived at the factory and had seen his father’s parking spot empty. During all the years that Leon had worked at Archer Industries alongside his father, Leon Sr. had never failed to come to work by 6:00 a.m., making sure he arrived before his son or any of his employees reported for duty.

Now, curious about why his dad was still at home, Leon turned his attention to the exterior of the hacienda-style mansion that his dad and mom had built nearly forty years ago. It had twenty rooms, seven bathrooms, an Olympic-size pool, a tennis court and a newly installed outdoor kitchen that rivaled anything shown on the home and garden shows that his mother loved to watch on television. The red tile roof sloped low over a center courtyard where exotic tropical flowers bloomed year-round. In fact, Leon Archer Sr.’s home had been featured in the prestigious Southwest Homes magazine, and continued to serve as the gathering spot for many Archer Industries company parties over the years. Since a good portion of Rockport residents either worked for Archer Industries or had a family member who did, most of the townsfolk had been hosted in the Archer home at one time or another.

Leon exited his car, slammed the door and strode up the flower-lined walkway. After letting himself in, Leon went directly to his father’s study where the elder man was seated behind his walnut claw-foot desk, an unlit cigar stuck into the corner of his mouth. The sight made Leon smile…his mother had banned cigar smoking in the house long ago, but that didn’t stop his old man from keeping up the appearance of enjoying a good smoke, especially when he was working at home.

“Hello, Dad. Hi, Gerald,” Leon said as he greeted his father and the attorney who had handled Archer Industries’ business for as long as Leon could remember. After a quick handshake with Gerald and a nod at his father, Leon sat down in the deep wingchair across from the huge, messy desk where Leon Sr. was busy signing papers that Gerald was handing to him.

“What’s up? You doing okay?” Leon asked tentatively. Though his dad was seventy-four years old, and had never experienced any major health problems, Leon hoped his father’s good luck had not taken an unexpected turn for the worse.

“Of course I’m okay,” Leon Sr. shot back in a gruff voice, not looking up at his son. He placed another flourishing signature on a document and then muttered, “Why’d you ask something like that? Do I look sick to you?”

“No, no. Just wondering. When you didn’t show up at the plant this morning, I got a little worried.”

“No need,” his father tossed out in a cavalier manner, now setting his pen aside. “I’m fine. In fact, I’m better than I’ve ever been, and God willing, I plan to stay that way for a long, long time.”

“All right,” Leon conceded, relieved by his father’s bantering in his usually gruff voice. “So why are we here and not at work at the factory? There’s a lot going on at the plant today. Three big orders came in last night and the Wilton shipment has to go out by noon.”

“I know, I know,” Leon Sr. acknowledged with a wave of one hand. “It’ll all get done…don’t worry. Nona’s there, right?”

“Hey, you know she is. When I left yesterday, Nona was still on the phone arguing with FedEx over that package of samples from Seattle that got lost. I told her it could wait until today and for her to go home. She refused, so I left. Sometimes I think she takes her job way too seriously.”

“Tell me about it,” Leon Sr. agreed. He stopped what he was doing and pointed his cigar at his son. “She’s a hard worker and great friend to all of us, but that woman needs a life. Other than her life at Archer, that is.”

“Harrumph,” Leon agreed with a shrug. “That’s the truth.”

“Well, you’re the best person to handle her, I’m sure. She always does whatever you ask.”

“Not always, but most of the time,” Leon replied with a shake of his head, as if resigned to the fact that he had no choice but to tolerate the antics of his most trusted, but most temperamental, employee. “Okay…enough about Nona. What’s really going on with you?” Leon wanted to know. He propped one foot on a knee and slipped back in his seat.

“Big changes,” the elder Archer teased, raising his eyes from the final paper that the lawyer handed him to sign. He removed the unlit cigar from his mouth and set it aside. “This is what’s up,” he started, clasping his hands on his desk. “I’m retiring. As of this morning, I’m finished with the business.”

Leon rolled his eyes in mock disbelief. “Oh? Really? And how many times have you said that?” he countered, knowing his father had made the same declaration several times before, only to renege on his decision and keep on working.

“I mean it this time,” Leon Sr. said as he tapped his index finger on the stack of papers he’d signed and jerked his head toward his attorney. “Tell him, Gerald. It’s done.”

“That’s right,” the white-haired lawyer confirmed. “All the papers are in order. Your father has just made you the new owner of Archer Industries. It’s all yours now.”

Leon jerked forward, both hands steadied on his knees as he peered at his father in suspicion. “Is this for real?”

“Yes, for real. It’s time for you to run the show, son, and I am more than ready to hand the whole thing over to you.”

Leon sucked in a long breath and let the news settle in. He had known this day would come, but still, he was surprised. His father had made comments about retiring so many times that the running joke around the plant was that he’d leave when it snowed in Rockport, something that had happened, but nearly a century ago.

“Why now?” Leon wanted to know, wondering what had pushed his father to finally let go. He was an energetic man who walked four miles every day, ate only organic foods and never drank alcohol. And now that he’d given up cigars, his doctor had pronounced him healthier than ever.

“Because it’s time.”

“Are you telling me the truth?” Leon pressed. “You’re not sick or anything, are you?”

“I’m in perfect health,” his father replied with a snap. “In fact, that’s the reason I’m doing this now. Your mother and I are leaving for a tour of Africa tomorrow. We’re finally going on the trip we’ve put off for too many years. We decided last night that if we’re going to go, we’d better go while I can still climb a mountain and stay up late enough to enjoy a sunset,” Leon Sr. chuckled. “And we’re taking our time, son. Probably be gone at least a month.”

“A month, huh? Good for you!” But then Leon bit his bottom lip in concern. “Isn’t this happening kinda fast?” He had thought he was prepared to take over the business, but now that Archer Industries had actually been turned over to him, the prospect of running things without his father nearby caught Leon off guard.

“Yes. That’s right. No need to drag this out,” Leon Sr. concurred. “It’ll be an easy transition. I don’t want any fancy retirement party or sappy farewells. I’m writing a personal letter to each employee, thanking them for their hard work and telling them they’re in good hands. I know I can count on you to run the place the same way I have. So don’t fuck things up, you hear?”

Leon had to laugh at his father’s rare use of the F word.

“You practically grew up at the plant. You’ve been by my side since you were old enough to sit at my desk, so it won’t take long for everyone to get used to taking orders from you instead of me.”

“Orders?” Leon quipped. “I don’t plan to run the place like a military operation.”

His father laughed under his breath while brandishing his pen at his son. “Ha! That’s what it takes to do business nowadays, son. The key is to act tough, keep everything under your control so no one gets the idea that they can operate outside the rules. If you’re the man where the buck stops, then you’re the man with the power…and you’re gonna need power to succeed. You ready to be the boss?”

Leon hesitated, giving his mind a few seconds to wrap itself around the impact of his father’s decision. The family company was now his to manage, and the responsibility was great. Was he prepared for the challenge and ready to step up to the plate?

“You bet I am,” Leon confirmed with confidence, ready to make the difficult decisions that came with being in charge.

“I know you are, even though the old-timers will probably call you ‘Junior,’” Leon’s mother tossed out as she entered the room.

“Sara, that’ll change now that he’s the number one man,” Mr. Archer told his wife, sending a scowl her way.

“I’ll make sure of that,” Leon agreed, warming to the idea that, at last, he’d be out from behind his father’s shadow. Recently, he’d begun to feel confined, as if he were boxed into a place without an exit. Had his father sensed his restlessness? Was that what spurred his decision to retire? If so, the timing couldn’t have been better.

Sara Archer, who stood a head shorter than her son, went over to him, patted him lightly on the cheek and reminded him in a sassy tone, “Well, you’ll always be Junior to me.”

Leon grimaced, and then broke into a smile, both annoyed and flattered by his mother’s display of affection. As her only child, he had learned long ago that it did no good to protest her overprotective ways. As long as he lived, he would be her little boy and there was nothing he could do to change that.

“And I don’t want you to worry about checking on the house while we’re gone,” Sara continued. “I gave Nona my keys so she can come in and water my plants and check on the aquarium. You’ll have more important things on your mind than tending my African violets and feeding the fish.”

“If that’s what you and Nona arranged, it’s fine with me,” Leon conceded, aware of how much his mother liked and trusted Nona James, who was not only Archer Industries’ operations manager, but also a longtime family friend.

“I think that’s it,” Gerald Ayers stated as he snapped his briefcase closed and handed a packet of legal documents to the elder Archer, who put them into his safe.

Gerald leaned over to shake Leon’s hand. “Congratulations, Junior,” the lawyer said, beaming his approval.

Leon pumped the attorney’s hand, “Thanks, Gerald.”

“No problem. You’re going to do fine.” Turning to Leon Sr., the lawyer said, “If that’s all you need from me, I’ll be going. I’ve got to leave for the airport in an hour.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re leaving the country, too,” Leon remarked, concerned.

“No, not at all. Going to visit my daughter in Baton Rouge. I’m only a phone call away if you need me, Leon. Call anytime, and I’ll be here…. Just as I’ve been for your father over the years.”

“Whew! That’s a relief,” Leon said, knowing how much he was going to need the seasoned attorney’s advice.

After Gerald left, Leon and his father reviewed the transition process, and then conducted an in-depth examination of the current production schedule.

“Next up is a women’s swimsuit line for Leeman’s,” Leon Sr. informed his son.

“A swimsuit line, huh? That ought to be a pretty simple run. Steve Hadley’s company out of New York, right?” Leon said, remembering the previous orders Hadley had placed with Archer Industries.

“Right. But this one might be a bit tricky. The designer wants to use a fabric that’s gonna take some serious negotiating to get down to the price Hadley wants to pay. Some kind of a specialty blend they sourced out of China.”

“Could be pricey,” Leon said.

“Exactly what I thought, so I put our man in New Delhi on it. Hopefully, he’ll find a better price in India,” his father offered.

“Sounds good. Where do we stand on the Leeman’s contract?” Leon asked.

“All done. I finalized everything with Steve Hadley. Here’s the name of the rep from his store who is due here this afternoon to consult on the project,” he said, handing Leon a piece of paper on which he had written the name. “Make sure everything comes off without a hitch, you hear? We can’t afford to lose this account. We’re doing fine, but profits were down a point last quarter.”

“I know,” Leon agreed, reading over the note, which read: Mr. Kacey Parker, Leeman’s. “Don’t worry. Leave all the business problems to me,” Leon advised. “You and Mom go have fun in Africa.”

“We plan to,” his father replied. “But don’t you have too much fun while we’re gone, okay?”

Leon rolled his eyes in exaggeration. How much fun could I possibly have if I’m busy turning triangles of exotic fabric into swimsuits for curvy females? he wondered with a smile.

Chapter 4

The two-lane highway leading to Rockport, Texas, was bordered by flat coastal plains on one side and the surging Gulf of Mexico on the other. The black ribbon of asphalt stretching out before Kacey pulled her along, bringing her ever closer to her destination. Few cars passed hers on the highway, and most of the buildings she encountered were either low-slung ranch houses surrounded by acres of green pasture or weather-worn beach cottages raised high on stilts. Kacey had to admit that the sudden sense of isolation that hit her was eerily disturbing, yet peaceful.

Continuing northward, she shifted her gaze from the road to the sky, where not a single white cloud marred the huge expanse of blue that seemed to go on forever. This kind of openness, emptiness and lack of population was a definite contrast to what Kacey was used to. An Easterner born and bred, she considered herself a typical urban working woman who thrived on deadlines, pressure and competition in a fast-paced environment that included long hours at the office, lots of take-out dinners and hitting the live entertainment circuit with her friends to relax. Leaving all that behind to hole up in this small town was going to require a great deal of patience, flexibility and trust.

When Kacey’s cell phone rang, she checked the screen and saw that Linette was calling her back. Kacey answered, intending to keep it brief.

“Hey. Where are you?” she asked, knowing Linette was never in the same place for very long.

“At the airport. LAX,” Linette sputtered, sounding out of breath. “Just got here, and wouldn’t you guess…one of my bags is missing. This sucks. I’m shooting stills for Roberto Rogales’s new outerwear campaign tomorrow and I need my equipment!”

“Right,” Kacey replied, recalling the assignment Linette had accepted with the former Ralph Lauren protégé. “Glad that job worked out for you. But don’t worry. Your bag will show. Happens all the time.”

“It had better,” Linette tossed back. “The schedule Roberto sent looks pretty scary and I’ve got a lot to do. Anyway, I got your message. What’s up with you?”

“Well, right now I’m driving down a two-lane highway along the Texas Gulf Coast, on my way to the factory that is going to manufacture SunKissed by Kacey.” She paused to let Linette absorb her good news. “Can you believe it?”

“Get outta here! For real? Hadley accepted your swimsuit line for Leeman’s?”

“He did,” Kacey confirmed with a smile, eagerly filling Linette in on the details of her meeting with her boss and her upcoming stay in Rockport.

“That’s sooo exciting,” Linette said, clearly happy for Kacey. “Your swimsuits are the bomb! They’re gonna be a huge hit. I’ve never seen any like them.”

“Your photos played a big part in winning Hadley over. And once the manufacturer’s samples are finished, I want you to shoot those, too. My plan is to convince Hadley to send our models to Rockport for the fittings and the promotional photos. Think you can squeeze in a trip to Texas when I get to that point?”

“Of course. Count on it,” Linette assured Kacey. “I should wrap up this job by the end of the week. Just give me a call and I’ll be there.”

“Great. By the time the samples are ready to be photographed, I’ll be more than ready for some company. This temporary exile to Texas is not what I expected to be doing right now.”

“Hey, I hear you. Just focus on your work and time will fly by,” Linette advised in a rushed voice. “Hey, gotta go. My bag is here! We’ll talk later, okay?”

“Right,” Kacey agreed, ending the call and already missing her friend.

While Linette was rubbing shoulders with Hollywood types in Los Angeles, Kacey would be stuck with an old man in a factory in Texas. But it’ll be worth it, she reminded herself, refocusing on the road, surprised to see that a herd of black and white cows had gathered along the barbed-wire fence running parallel to the highway, their large brown eyes trained on her. Shaking her head in disbelief, she turned up the volume on the CD player and let Whitney’s new album fill the car.

Half an hour after leaving the Corpus Christi airport, Kacey finally came to a billboard splashed with large red and blue letters that announced, Welcome to Rockport. Home of Archer Industries. Slowing down, she leaned over and scrutinized the huge sign, which showcased a two-story industrial building constructed of dark red brick, flanked by groves of leafy palm trees. A mature man was posed in front of the structure, chin raised high, a big smile on his face, his deep brown skin burnished like polished wood. In his dark business suit with his arms crossed at his chest he exuded the aura of a successful businessman.

“Old man Archer,” Kacey decided, thinking the older man looked pleasant enough. Maybe working with him wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Driving on, Kacey arrived at the center of town where a gas station, a convenience store, a beauty shop and a hardware outlet anchored the four corners of the old-fashioned square. Beyond the hub of the town, Kacey caught glimpses of lacey Victorian homes on broad green lawns, as well as modest bungalow-type homes facing each other across grassy esplanades. The quaint scene that greeted her was picturesque, charming and serene. Pretty to look at but not a place where she wanted to spend any more time than was absolutely necessary.

“I’d be bored out of my skull if I had to live here,” Kacey murmured as she inched along the town’s main street, where a scattering of people were busy running errands or chatting in clusters on the wide cement sidewalks.

At the far end of the main street, she saw Seaside Suites, the economy motel where she’d booked a room for the duration. The exterior of the nondescript building was in desperate need of a paint job and there were only three other cars in the parking lot, which adjoined a rundown apartment complex surrounded by a chain-link fence.

I’ll check in after I meet with Mr. Archer, Kacey decided, glad she’d worn her Donna Karan navy suit and comfortable heels on the plane, so she could go straight to her meeting. She checked her makeup in the rearview mirror, pressed her shapely burgundy-tinted lips together and fluffed her honey-brown curls with one hand. Satisfied that all was fine, she nodded at her image. After all, she was representing Leeman’s, one of the most exclusive retailers in the country. A good first impression was essential, and she planned to let Mr. Archer know from the get-go that she was not some underling who was there to take orders from him, but a designer whose swimsuit line was going to become the hottest fashion label in swimwear.

Slowly passing the motel, Kacey eyed the drab appearance of her future home and sighed. The thought of living there made her heart sink, but she refused to let it get her down.

“Oh, well, at least it’s not raining,” Kacey remarked, resigned to toughing it out for as long as it took to finish the job she’d come to do.

The woman who met Kacey in the lobby of the Archer Industries building greeted her with a vise grip of a handshake and a hearty hello.

“Welcome to Archer Industries. I’m Nona James. Operations manager,” she said in a flat Texas accent that seemed to solidify her connection to the small-town plant.

“Hello, Nona. Kacey Parker. Good to meet you,” Kacey said, eyeing the woman closely. She was at least a head taller than Kacey—big-boned, buxom and very statuesque. The makeup on her buff-hued face was flawless, but a bit heavy-handed, as were the intricate chandelier earrings dangling from her ears. An African-print headband held an explosion of natural hair off her face, creating a dark halo of frizz that translated into an inspired resemblance of a young Diana Ross.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Nona said, her red lips widening into a full-blown grin. “Did you check into the motel? I assume you’re staying at the Seaside. It’s the best we have around here.”

“I drove past on my way through town. It looks fine. I’ll check in after I finish here,” Kacey replied, taking care not to imply that the accommodations might not be up to snuff.

“Okay. If you need anything, let me know. The manager of the Seaside is my cousin, so I’ll be on his case if you have any complaints.”

“Sounds great. I’m anxious to get settled and started on production,” Kacey replied, glancing around the sun-splashed lobby where large Lucite boxes showcased some of the clothes produced by Archer Industries. On display were activewear, all-weather jackets, chlorine-resistant swimsuits and water aerobic wear, which included pool shoes, sun hats and beach towels.

“Mr. Archer isn’t here at the moment, but he’s on his way in,” Nona said. “He’s eager to meet you. Come on back. You can wait in his office,” Nona said, leading Kacey down a carpeted hallway toward a cluster of offices at the back of the building. “Can I get you something to drink?” she asked after escorting Kacey into a very spacious room where an oval conference table took up a good portion of the space. The table was crowded with papers, fabric samples, pattern books and cutting tools. Clearly, this was more of a workroom than an executive suite.

“Some cold water would be great,” Kacey replied, before settling into a gray suede chair.

“No problem. Be right back,” Nona said as she left the room.

Left alone, Kacey looked around, curious to learn what she could about Mr. Archer before he showed up. Groupings of framed certificates, awards and permits hung on the wall behind his desk. One family photo caught her attention. It was of a much younger Mr. Archer, seated on a sofa with an attractive woman whom Kacey guessed was his wife. On her lap sat a young boy holding a puppy, grinning into the camera.

He’s a family man, Kacey mused, beginning to feel more comfortable about working with the man who had promised Steve Hadley that he could turn her dreams into reality.

“One bottle of cold water, right?”

The deep tenor voice forced Kacey’s eyes from the photo. She turned toward the door and quickly saw that the person at the entryway was definitely not Nona James, but a drop-dead gorgeous man who was grinning at her as if pleasantly surprised to find her sitting in Mr. Archer’s office. The man slanted his slender body against the doorframe and proceeded to trace a less than businesslike gaze over Kacey, emitting bold signals of more than a casual interest in her.

Since he seemed in no hurry to speak, Kacey countered by taking her time inspecting the guy. He had jet-black hair with a hint of waviness, cut close with a razor part. The angular planes of his face accented his vibrant pecan-brown skin and made his intriguing gray eyes impossible to ignore. His light blue oxford shirt was open at the collar. His crisply creased tan khaki pants were held in place by a beautiful leather belt that Kacey immediately recognized as one of Cole Haan’s most popular designs, and the soft Italian leather shoes on his feet matched his ultraexpensive belt.

Not bad, Kacey decided, pleased to find such a put-together, preppy-looking brother in the middle of nowhere. He was attractive, in a sexy, clean-cut way, sending out signals of a conservative dresser who certainly had good taste.

“Oh. The water. Yes. Thanks,” Kacey replied in a breathy voice that sounded as if it were coming from some one else. She stood, accepted the bottle of water and waited for him to speak, wondering what department this brother worked in at Archer and if she would be lucky enough to work with him.

The man stepped fully into the room. “So I can see that you’re not Mr. Parker?”

Kacey laughed, watching as he analyzed her reaction. “Oh, yes, but it’s Ms. Kacey Parker.”

“Well, I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting…” he stuttered, pulling out the piece of paper his father had handed him. “I guess…”

“You assumed I was a man?” Kacey finished with a hint of a challenge.

He gave her a sheepish smile and nodded. “Yeah. Guess we all did.”

“Happens all the time,” she concluded, shaking the man’s hand. “Hope you’re not too disappointed,” she finished.

“Not at all,” he replied with appreciative emphasis. “I’m Leon Archer. Good to meet you.” Then he walked around the desk, keeping his eyes riveted on Kacey as he eased into the chair, clearly as if he belonged there.

Kacey slipped back into her seat, crossed her legs as well as her arms, and blinked, confused. “You’re Mr. Archer?” she started, fishing for an explanation.

“Right. I’m Leon Archer.” A beat, and then he added with a heart-pounding grin, “Junior.”

“Ahh…then you must be Mr. Archer’s…”

“Son,” Leon finished. “As well as the new owner of Archer Industries,” he clarified his statement with a downward tilt of his head. Looking up at Kacey, he said, “As of this morning, in fact.”

“Oh, well…” she stammered. “Really? Then I guess congratulations are in order,” she offered, sensing a definite increase in her pulse. So, the grumpy old man was out, and his superfine son was in? How’d she get so lucky? All of her worry about having to work with a crotchety old man had been wasted. Now, she had to worry about keeping her composure while his son’s metal-gray eyes devoured her!

“Thanks,” Leon said in a pride-filled manner. He propped his left elbow on the desk to rest his chin on curled fingers, which Kacey noted bore no rings.

“When did this change of leadership happen? I was prepared to meet with your father,” Kacey stated, feeling her professional façade begin to melt under Leon Jr.’s disturbing stare. He certainly wasn’t trying to hide his personal interest in her, and Kacey was definitely feeling flattered.

Breaking his gaze at last, Leon grinned. “Happened this morning. Dad unexpectedly decided to step down to enjoy his golden years traveling with my mom. They’re leaving for Africa tomorrow.”

“Oh, so soon?”

“Yeah. But don’t worry about your swimsuits. You’re in good hands.”

“I’m sure I am,” Kacey murmured, sensing a wave of heat surge through her stomach and ease down between her thighs, initiating a hint of dampness in her panties. Get a grip, girl, she silently admonished, forcing back a smile. “So you’ll be working with me on production, then?” she had to clarify.

“Absolutely,” Leon confirmed in a much bigger voice. “I’m totally familiar with the project, so you’re stuck with me. Unless you’d prefer to work with Nona, my operations manager. She’s been here almost as long as I have and can handle every stage of the process.”

“No, that’s all right,” Kacey offered, a tad too quickly. Composing herself, she folded her hands together. “If you’re on top of everything and can deliver what I want, that’s all that counts.”

“Trust me. I can deliver whatever you want. Just let me know what it is,” he assured, using a voice that was so intentionally sexy that Kacey shivered, unable to think of a comeback. This man is such a flirt, she decided, aware that he was no longer smiling. In fact, his hooded eyes were now slits of challenge, as if daring her to make him prove that he could deliver on more fronts than the production line.

“I’ll definitely let you know,” she tossed back with a lift of one shoulder, prepared to play his game of words. “But I’m warning you, I can be very demanding, and particular.”

“So can I,” he replied with a hint of mockery.

“Fine. I’d love to see how we operate together.”

“I was thinking the same thing. I have no doubt we’re gonna get along just fine.” The room fell quiet as Leon opened a folder and removed the photos that Hadley had emailed to the manufacturer. “I love your line. The designs are stunning. Utterly unique.”

“Thanks,” Kacey replied.

“You really know how to showcase a woman’s best assets.”

“That’s what good design is all about,” she replied, watching Leon as he held up one of the photos and tilted back in his chair.

“I especially love this one…your Sheer Double Dip,” he commented, moving the picture aside to rake Kacey with a look that left no doubt in her mind that he was checking out more than her design credentials.

“It’s the heart of my collection. All about the see-through fabric. Do you have a supplier for it, yet?”

“We’re sourcing it now. Trust me, I’ll get it at your price.”

“Good. Then I guess we’ve got a lot to do,” Kacey tossed out, clearly ready to get started.

“Sounds fine. I’m ready whenever you are,” Leon said, leaning forward.

Kacey slowly unscrewed the cap on her bottle of water while assessing her new collaborator with interest. Though caught off guard by this shift in plans, the prospect of working with Leon Archer Jr. absolutely intrigued her. In the full five minutes since they’d met, she could already tell that collaborating with him was going to be a challenge. A challenge that she was more than ready to accept.

Chapter 5

Over the next hour, Kacey and Leon discussed each design in detail and shared thoughts on the execution of the various styles. They collaborated on pattern adjustments that would simplify production and keep costs down. However, it became clear right away that even though they shared the common goal of turning out a dynamite product at the best possible price, Leon was much more relaxed about the time frame than Kacey was.

“When will the first samples be ready?” she wanted to know.

“Depends,” he casually replied.

“On what?”

“On how fast Bob Truett can get to your project.”

“Bob Truett?” Kacey questioned.

“Our master patternmaker. He’s the person who really holds the power around here,” Leon chuckled. “He’s the best, though. Been with the company for years.”

“You know I want to move this along as quickly as possible, don’t you?” Kacey reminded Leon, not wanting to waste a second.

“We don’t rush things around here. We move at the best pace to get the job done right, on schedule and to the customer’s satisfaction.”

“I’m sure you do, but I can’t stick around Rockport forever.”

“Don’t be in such a rush. Relax. The workroom is pretty busy right now, but Truett knows your contract is a quick turnaround job,” he assured Kacey, examining a page from the folder that contained the production schedule for SunKissed. “If all goes well, we should have your samples completed within a few days. However, I don’t like to ask my employees to work overtime unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

Kacey simply watched Leon and held back from speaking while he scanned the document in silence. When he glanced up, he hooked Kacey with his magnetic gray eyes once again, creating an electric connection that made Kacey’s heart turn over. Gulping back her unsettling reaction, she stilled, determined not to expose the stir of emotions cascading through her body.

“But you will ask for overtime if you have to, right?” she finally asked.

“Let’s just see how things go,” was all Leon offered.

“All right,” Kacey conceded, hoping he would not be reluctant to push his employees hard to get the job done in record time. But that was his call to make, not hers, so she’d just have to trust him to do what he felt was best.

As he continued to explain the process, Kacey’s eyes settled on Leon’s full, well-formed lips, unable to keep from fantasizing about the warm, yummy taste she knew they would leave on her tongue. The idea of kissing Leon Archer made her nipples go hard in her bra and the core of her womanhood tense up. Such an intensely sexual arousal, prompted by a man she did not know, was like a lightning strike on a sunny day—completely out of the blue, but not impossible. In fact, getting excited over a man she did not know was exactly what she’d been yearning to feel for a very long time.

Kacey’s personal life hummed along in an easy, uncomplicated way that she’d come to consider as normal. She didn’t have a special man in her life, but she did have Jamal, the guy she turned to whenever she needed someone to rescue her from long spells of sexual abstinence. Kacey trusted and loved Jamal as a true friend, even though he wished she could love him like a man.

Jamal. Thinking of him made Kacey almost sigh. They’d known each other for eight years, and as much as she tried to shift her feelings for the devilishly handsome real estate investor into full romantic mode, it never quite happened. So, she’d settled on remaining good friends with occasional benefits, a perfect arrangement for Kacey, despite Jamal’s desire for more.

When Leon cleared his throat with a fist to his mouth, as if aware of how distracted Kacey had become, she snapped to attention. Taking in his bemused expression, she tossed her crazy imaginings aside, placing fingertips to her chin to feel grounded in the moment.

“Ready to discuss the schedule?” Leon started, lifting one eyebrow while gracing her with a look as intimate as a kiss, which only served to rev her pulse a notch higher.

He’s as caught up as I am, Kacey observed, exchanging a slow smile with him. “Sure,” she replied, squeezing her legs together in an attempt to banish the itch that was definitely in need of scratching. Leaning forward in her chair, she focused her attention on the papers spread out on Leon’s desk, avoiding his eyes completely.

“First, let’s talk about your fabric,” he stated.

“What do you think about the choices?” she asked Leon, her voice now crisply professional and efficient.

“Very nice. We have everything in stock except the imported Naughty Net, but we ought to find it soon.”

“Perfect,” Kacey commented. “And I’d like to come in at least five percent under budget,” she told him, plunging back to earth with a definite crash, determined to make good on her promise to Hadley.

“Five percent? I dunno,” Leon hedged. “You have eight different styles, and each one requires a lot of decorative detail. The cost of your raw materials eats up more than one-third of your budget,” Leon warned with a tone of authority. “You might want to consider eliminating some of the expensive bling if you want to cut costs.”

His candid assessment quickly dissolved Kacey’s dreamy reaction to him. He sounded way too confident that she would be willing to go along with whatever he decided. Well, she had news for Leon Archer. His flirtatious overtures weren’t going to distract her from holding firm on her designs. She knew her swimsuits contained the flashy touches that made them stand out from all the other swimwear currently available, and she had no plans to change that.

Certainly, this guy didn’t expect her to drop the metallic gold rings on her bikini tops, did he? Or omit the polished Italian stone side clasps on the bottoms? Or trash the bronze beading on halter ties shot through with strands of gold and silver thread?

No, she could never eliminate her trademark sparkle or dull the shine that she adored.

“I have to disagree with your assessment,” she told Leon firmly, after taking her time considering his point. “The accessory trim is what makes my styles, along with the custom cuts and imported fabrics. Unique accessorizing is key.”

“I understand. But that’s where the financial wiggle room is,” Leon advised.

Kacey inclined her head in agreement, thinking about the financial bonus that Hadley had promised if she reduced production costs. Somehow, she had to prove to Hadley that she could get the job done, and done at his price.

“I understand where you’re coming from, Leon,” she finally agreed. “However, we’ll have to cut costs someplace else.”

Leon simply lifted his palms toward the ceiling as if at a loss to suggest an alternative.

“The estimates for labor per unit and packaging look good,” Kacey said, searching for a way to make it all work.

“Oh, yes. Those are static costs that remain as is. No wiggle room there,” Leon confirmed.

“Okaaay…so, if accessory trim is the wild card,” Kacey restated, turning her thoughts to ways of saving money without sacrificing style, “I have an idea.”

“Let’s hear it,” Leon prompted.

Kacey sank back in her chair, fingers tented at her lips, knowing she would have to adjust costs somewhere if she wanted that bonus money. Leaning forward, she launched her suggestion. “What if, instead of eliminating the more expensive trim, we simply reduce the quantity?”

“You know, that was going to be my next suggestion,” Leon replied, appearing excited by her approach. He flipped through Kacey’s portfolio and tapped a page with his finger. “Like the Lucite squares on this Retro Hipster style. The halter top has Lucite squares on the ends of the ties, and two smaller pieces at the bustline. Maybe if we use one larger piece, you’d get the same effect and spend less on trim.”

Kacey made a subtle nod, knowing his solution made sense. Eliminating one piece of Lucite detail wouldn’t detract from the overall look, and if this was what she had to do to make this line happen, she was willing to give it a try.

“Okay,” she agreed with Leon, her earlier irritation beginning to ease. “I’ll review each style and see where I can make similar adjustments.”

“Great,” Leon replied, pausing to review the last page of the production schedule before he spoke again. “Once you’ve done that, I’ll revise the manufacturing estimate and email it to you so that you can send it over to Hadley for his approval.”

“Fantastic,” Kacey replied, ready to tackle the numbers, and pleased that Leon was onboard. The more energy he focused on her swimsuit line, the more quickly she’d be able to return to New York, even though her earlier determination to get out of Rockport as fast as she could didn’t seem quite so pressing anymore.

“One thing I guess you’ve learned about me,” Leon said after their revision session wound down. “I’m committed one hundred percent to making sure you are happy.”

“What more could I ask for?” Kacey replied, buzzed by the sense of partnership that was rapidly developing between them. On this project, which was so special for Kacey, working with a talented African-American man who had the power, the insight and the creative drive to deliver on her vision was a drastic, and wonderful, development.

While doing promotional work for Leeman’s, her vision and taste had been challenged many times. How ever, to stay on track and not become distracted by exaggerated promises from suppliers and vendors, she’d adopted a three-point approach that worked for her: Always be clear and upfront about her expectations, never sacrifice quality for quantity and steer clear of obvious over-the-top trends with limited appeal. Now she had to add one more point to her list: Never fantasize about making love with the manufacturer!

Finished with their meeting, Leon stood and motioned for Kacey to come with him. “I’ve set up a workspace for you to use while you’re here. It’s not very big, I’m afraid,” he said, leading her down the hall to a small cubicle not far from his office. It was private, quiet and had a phone, a computer and a drafting table. All the equipment she needed to do her job.

Kacey followed him into the space, very aware of his closeness, his scent and especially the silent electricity crackling in the air. His presence sucked her in, tingled her imagination and made her want to do things she hadn’t thought of before. Like make the first move and kiss the hell out of this guy who was pushing her most intimate buttons.

“And you do have a window,” Leon offered with a wave of one hand, moving to open the blinds and reveal a clear view of the parking lot.

Kacey moved toward the window, her shoulder brushing Leon’s as she stepped past him, certain she’d felt him tense when their bodies touched. “That’s the road that leads to the Coast, isn’t it?” she asked, recognizing the highway that she’d taken on her way to Rockport.

“Right. If you hang a left out of the parking lot and go four miles, you’ll hit Aransas Bay.” He moved up behind her, so near that his breath warmed her neck and sent delightful shivers down Kacey’s spine. “I live out that way, too. On the beach.”

“You do?” she commented, turning around, her face stopping only inches from his, so near their lips could have easily met. And held. In a long, delicious kiss. The subtle sensuousness that shimmered between them was like an invisible thread, drawing them together. Neither took a backward step, yet a message of caution flashed into Kacey’s brain, warning her to move—steer clear of temptation and concentrate on something other than his arresting grin, which was rattling her composure and provoking a ruffle of a smile on her lips. “Must be nice, living near the water,” she said, her voice breathy and low. She enunciated her words slowly, as if carefully calibrating her reply to lead him into more personal revelations.

“It is nice,” he agreed. “It’s quiet out on the beach. Very private. I live alone, so it’s a welcome escape from all the noise and hectic hours I put in here at the factory.”

He lives alone, Kacey quickly registered, certain he’d deliberately dropped that nugget of private information to disarm any resistance she might have had about entering into a more intimate level of conversation. Deciding to play the game she knew he’d started, she lobbed the comeback she hoped he was expecting. “I hear you. My job at Leeman’s can get pretty crazy, too, so going home to a quiet place…with no one around, is heaven.”

“Do you live in Manhattan?” Leon quickly probed.

“No, in Harlem. But I’m planning on moving into the city when I return.”

“I’ll bet it’s expensive, living in New York. Any roommates?”

“No, just me.”

“So you like big-city life?”

“I love it. Born and raised in Harlem. Wouldn’t give up New York for anything.”

“Well, it’s all about how you want to live your life,” he replied laughingly, now stepping back to put more space between them. “Small town Texas is where I come from and Rockport has always been home. It’s really a great place to live and work.”

“Especially if you’re an Archer, I’ll bet,” Kacey finished with a chuckle.

“Oh, yeah,” he sheepishly acknowledged. “Guess you got me there.”

With a duck of her head Kacey stepped even further away from Leon and put both of her hands on the back of the stool in front of her drafting table. Holding on to it, she watched Leon carefully, her heart racing in her chest. If he didn’t leave soon, she knew she might embarrass herself by revealing more than she should, or asking too many questions. But she wasn’t going to be in Rockport for long, and time would fly by. Would there be enough time to get to know Leon Archer better? And why did she feel so compelled to get answers to the questions that were crowding her mind?

“Think I’d better get busy on those revisions,” she told him, slipping onto the stool. She picked up a pencil and pointed it at him. “I’ll let you know when I’m finished.”

“Good idea. Just push the red button on your phone and that’ll buzz me in my office. When you’re ready, I’d like to show you around the plant.”

“Will do,” Kacey replied. As she watched Leon leave her cubicle, she couldn’t resist a shake of her head. Whew! That man was yanking all her chains and she didn’t plan to stop him.

Chapter 6

Once Kacey had reviewed the revised production budget, she sent it to Steve Hadley, proud of herself, and Leon, for accomplishing their mission. Within fifteen minutes, Hadley replied to her email, congratulating her on reducing overall costs by seven percent and assuring her that he’d work out a contractor’s agreement for her and that she would receive a nice bonus once the product had been received. Pleased with her achievement, as well as her boss’s reply, she buzzed Leon, who quickly returned to her cubicle.

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