“And how are you going to do that?”
“I have a few ideas.”
Chapter Seventeen
Val
“Ms. Connor, I like what I’m hearing. I’ve been keeping an eye on your company for a few years, and I believe your products are a great fit for our clients.” Davis spoke in a low, even voice.
“I’m glad to hear that.”
I smiled politely, even though I was doing an inner dance. I’d worked for years to get his attention. He was the founder of one of the biggest perfume-only chains in California that sold high-end fragrances. I hadn’t believed my luck when he’d called to set up a meeting. I’d met him for lunch at one of my favorite restaurants near my office, and I couldn’t help sweeping my gaze across the terrace, hoping to catch a glimpse of Carter. He said he’d eat here with a group. I’d met my lawyer on Tuesday evening last week, so we hadn’t gone out on a date yet... but we had tentative plans for tonight. And we’d had lunch together every day for the past week and a half.
“It’s mid-November, so we won’t catch the Christmas rush, but in the new year we could start by featuring one of your trademark lines like the Dreamsetter, and after we see how it performs, we could potentially talk about an exclusive line like the one you have for Sephora.”
“You know about it?”
“A man like me doesn’t come to a meeting without doing his due diligence. You have a fresh perspective. Not corporate, nor artisan. You’re somewhere in between, and that’s what we’re looking for.”
“You did feature a few artisan lines though.”
“We tried that route, even though I was against it from the beginning. Artisans have the craft in mind first and foremost, not the consumer, and that is reflected in sales. But you, Ms. Connor, have found your niche and you did very well for yourself.”
Davis smiled shrewdly from under his bushy, pearl-white mustache. Being complimented by a business legend like him was high praise indeed.
“Would you like to go by my office afterward? I could show you some of our current top-secret projects.”
“Thank you for the offer, but I’m heading straight to LAX from here. However, I’m going to put you in touch with my grandson. He handles the field work, so to speak. I’m sure you two will hit it off.”
“Sure.”
We chitchatted about the latest trends in fragrances, which were likely to last and which would be summer fads. We were halfway through our lunch when I saw Carter walk in with a large group. He winked at me before choosing to sit in a chair from which he had a direct view of me.
I winked back as discreetly as possible, then focused on Davis, continuing our conversation. I felt Carter looking at me, though. Out of the corner of my eye, I spied on him from time to time, and every single time, he met my gaze. Did the man not care that the others at the table could notice? Evidently not. I felt very flattered by that... but all those scorching-hot gazes he was sending me were messing with my focus. I trained my attention on my future business partner, who was now telling me all about his grandson and how he’d groomed him to take over when he retired because his son had no interest.
I was doing so well, concentrating on our small talk, ignoring those scorching-hot looks a certain someone was sending me. But then my phone pinged with an incoming message. I had it on the table, out of habit, and saw the message.
Carter: I’ve missed you.
It was bad form to answer, so I tried to ignore it, but something fluttered in my belly. A second message arrived a few minutes later.
Carter: You’re a knockout in those clothes. I can’t wait to take them off you.
The flutters migrated south. I pressed my thighs together on reflex. Oh, Carter. Where were his manners now? Seducing me when I was in the middle of a business lunch.
I discreetly pushed the phone away and even more discreetly sent Carter a glare across the restaurant. The joke was on me when a few minutes later, the screen of my phone lit up with another message. I couldn’t see it, and I was dying to know what it said.
I clasped my hands together to keep myself from reaching the phone. When lunch ended, Davis asked for the bill.
“It’s my treat,” I said.
“Oh, no, no, no. When an old man like me goes out with a young lady, he never lets her pay.”
“I insist. I was the one who wanted to meet at a restaurant.”
He chuckled. “Fiery. I can’t wait for my grandson to meet you. He’s quite a fiery personality himself.”
I squinted my eyes. Was he trying to set us up?