Meant for You (The Connor Family 3)

The thought that I wasn’t moving forward was nagging at me. I’d peaked in my career two years ago. I’d rejoiced at the time because I’d been the youngest development director in the company. But the next career jump was only possible if my boss quit, and honestly, I didn’t want Greg’s job. I liked mine. On a personal level, I’d had two “serious” relationships before moving to Paris, but I’d never seen those going anywhere. I hadn’t felt either was the one. I was in a funk, that much was clear. But thinking about it in the middle of the night was only going to make it harder to fall asleep. I walked across the cream-colored tile to my bedroom, which was as girly as it got. Most of my sheets were a shade of pink, or flowery.

I had one more thing to do before going to bed: put the alarm in my tote so I wouldn’t forget it in the morning. I grabbed the package, and when I turned it around, I laughed. Will had written his number with a black marker under the instructions.

Here is my number again, just in case. Call me if you need help with the alarm. ;) These things are hard to install.

Chapter Five

Paige

Will hadn’t been kidding about the alarm being difficult to install. I made it to the inn one week later, and I intended to take care of the alarm business before work. But despite reading the instructions a dozen times, watching explanatory YouTube videos, and even perusing a blog by a fellow homeowner who’d installed a similar model, I had yet to make it work, and I was running out of time. One of the companies I’d e-mailed last week had answered, saying their general manager had an opening this morning. I had to leave now to make it in time. I’d tinker with the alarm again in the evening.

The heat was a killer, even at eight o’clock in the morning. I’d forgotten how hot LA could get in the summer, and it was only the second week of July. I foresaw a lot of sweating in my near future. I’d suited up, wearing pants and jacket, and a silk blouse underneath. It was on the conservative side, but experience had taught me that people took me more seriously when I wore a suit.

I was pleased I’d scored a meeting with the general manager. That was usually an indication that he was interested in the project, not just looking for a PR boost. In those cases, I only dealt with the PR and Finance departments.

The offices were on the top floor of a building opposite city hall. I paced the meeting room while waiting for the general manager to join me, going through my pitch. I turned on my heels when I heard the door opening.

“Good morning, Ms. Lamonica. Thank you for coming on such short notice. I’m Christian Lackeroy.”

“Good morning, Mr. Lackeroy.”

“Call me Christian.”

I typically didn’t like to be on a first-name basis so early, but the fact that Christian appeared only a few years older than me put me somewhat at ease.

We got right down to business. He interrupted my pitch with well-considered questions, even offering to put me in touch with other businessmen who’d be interested in supporting the cause.

“I’ll be honest. I don’t see this coming to fruition. It’s so specific, and doesn’t scream PR material like green projects.”

“I’m confident I can find other businessmen like yourself who are interested in the cause rather than PR.”

“I like your confidence, Paige. You have my support on this. You’re already in touch with my assistant; e-mail her the documents you want signed. A letter of intent, you said. I’ll have the legal department look over it, and if nothing jumps out, you’ll have it back by the end of the week.”

“Perfect.”

I had a great feeling about this as I exited the office, smack dab into sweltering heat. I took off my jacket, trying to decide where I should work today. I could reach Venice Beach in forty minutes, park myself there for the rest of the day and work on more pitches as well as the redistribution of some incoming funds. But I’d stick out like a sore thumb in my suit. In the end, I decided to head to the office. Air-conditioning beat the ocean breeze when you were wearing a suit.

At lunch, Ashley stopped by with takeout. She was one of the few who preferred to work from the office daily. Midway through our lunch, a bouquet of red roses was delivered. I thanked the delivery boy, bringing them to my office.

“Wowza, those are nice. Who are they from?”

“Christian Lackeroy,” I said, reading the card.

“I’m guessing he liked you more than the project.”

“It would seem so.” I’d felt an overly friendly vibe toward the end of the meeting. The card read I had a lot of fun today. I’d love to take you to dinner. He’d actually signed with his name and position, which I found very tacky.

“Is he attractive?” she inquired.

“You could say that.”

“Take him up on it. You’d have a lot in common.”

Maybe... but as I put the card back, all I could think about was Will Connor in his black leather jacket, smelling like the ocean and the woods, looking like he could fulfill every sinful dream I’d ever had.

Five finished pitches later, I was ready to call it a day. Even though I was in the mood for another girls’ outing, I did the right thing and went by the inn again. I was determined to tackle the alarm. I was also cooking in my suit, so I went through some boxes labeled Paige, hoping I’d find anything to change into. I’d had some old clothes here, and Mom had packed them all up after my grandma passed away so they wouldn’t gather dust.

Bingo! I found a box with clothes from the high school era, back when I’d thought skimpy was the new cool. The only thing that fit me was a very short dress, but it would have to do. I’d been overweight as a teenager, and in the summer before my senior year, I’d gone through a drastic diet and lost thirty pounds. Out went my baggy, tent-sized wardrobe. I’d replaced it with an array of short, tight dresses like this one that were inappropriate for any place except a strip club. I’d wanted to feel beautiful, and I relished the attention I was receiving from boys. Until I realized not all attention was good attention.