Smokescreen

My legs burn, but I keep my pace, trying to clear my mind. Nerves and anxiety have consumed me the last two weeks and today’s the day. In a few hours, I’ll be presenting a proposal that could change the course of my professional life.

I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea to throw my small firm’s name into the Request for Proposal process with Hurst & McCoy. I highly doubt they’ll look at a boutique firm to help them rebuild their image after the shit storm that was created last month. I’m not totally confident they can save their reputation, but if I could be a part of the process and bring the organization into a positive light, it would be the pinnacle of my career.

Slowing down when I get close to my house, I see a familiar black BMW in my driveway. Laci Barnes, my best friend and assistant, leans against the car with a drink carrier full of Starbucks. She smiles widely at me and waves with her free hand. She’s the only person I know with the energy and enthusiasm of a cheerleader this early in the morning.

“Hey, Lace, what are you doing here?”

“I knew you would be running! How the hell do you stand this heat and humidity? I’m melting just waiting for you.” She exaggerates by fanning her face but smiling as well.

“It’s a bit early for the dramatics. Seriously, why are you here?”

“Stella, I know how important today is. I’m here to help. I’d bet you have all the proposals laid out from reviewing them one more time and you haven’t even thought of your outfit.”

She knows me so well.

“Right, so let’s get inside and get you showered. I brought a variety of caffeine choices.” She turns and walks toward my small, cottage style house.

Once we get inside, I pick the first drink my hand touches and head to the shower. Before I shut the door, I see her organizing my notes and shoving them in my oversized laptop case.

For once, I’m thankful for her unexpected visit. We’ve been best friends for twenty years after my family moved next to hers when we were both eight. While she drives me crazy, I wouldn’t change anything about her

When I’m done with my shower, she’s waiting for me on my bed with two dresses laid out. Neither of them are classic business suits that would impress the VP of Global Marketing.

“Before you dismiss these choices, let me tell you why I chose them. Both are extremely professional and at the same time give the impression of confidence.”

For once, I don’t argue, but nod and start on my hair and make-up. We decide on a red and white print dress with a black patent leather high belt. I grab a black blazer as a precaution and follow her downstairs.

“Let’s go over a last minute idea.” I reach for my iPad and sit down.

“I’d rather talk to you about something else.” She grabs the iPad and searches a few seconds before shoving it back in my hands.

The image on the screen causes my jaw to drop. There’s no caption, but the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen is grinning with a super model on his arm. She’s leaning into him with a dazzling smile. He’s wearing a tuxedo that has to be custom made for his tall frame. His stare into the camera is intense and the deep blue of his eyes look almost grey.

“That is Maxwell McCoy, Stella, as in the McCoy in Hurst & McCoy.”

“Why are you showing me this?”

“I needed to prepare you in case he’s in your meeting today. You deserve this project more than anyone, and I don’t want you to be tripped up by him. Rumor has it that he’s hard as nails—his looks are the only nice thing about him.”

“Laci, I’m meeting with Brian Claxton, VP of Global Marketing. I highly doubt the president of the company has time to listen to these proposals.”

“Maybe so, but you fluster easily so I wanted to warn you.”

“Can we go over my notes now?” I ask annoyed. It’s one thing for the entire professional business world to look at me different because I’m a woman. But for my best friend to think I’d let my guard down because of a handsome face pisses me off.

After an hour, she gives me a hug and wishes me luck. “Time to be spectacular,” is the last thing she says, giving me a boost of confidence.

I drive downtown to the large sky rise building and make my way to the thirty-fifth floor. The receptionist greets me and announces my arrival.

A few minutes later, she leads me into a conference room. A large man with graying hair watches me with an impassive look and stands. Another man turns from the floor to ceiling window and faces the room. My breath hitches and my skin prickles. Maxwell McCoy stares back at me with complete indifference. He’s taller than I imagined, at least six foot two. His dark hair is shaved close on the sides, but longer on top with a slight spike. The black suit he’s wearing fits his body perfectly showing off a firm physique. My mouth goes dry at the sight and my heart starts racing. When our eyes meet, something passes between us and his pupils widen. The energy in the room changes as we stare at each other.

The intensity of his gaze sends chills up and down my spine. The blue of his irises darken and his lip twitches slightly. As hard as I try, it’s impossible to turn my head. I’m paralyzed by the dominant powerhouse standing in front of me. He finally breaks the spell and I’m able to think clearly again.

My first thought is, what the hell just happened. Then I realize Laci’s right, one look at Maxwell McCoy in all his glory indeed has me flustered.

My vision is spotty as soon as our eyes lock. The woman in front of me is like a shockwave to my system. I break the stare and look down her petite frame. Long dark hair flows over her shoulders landing right above the black belt that hugs her small waist. Her hips flare slightly, leading to a sexy pair of legs that look a mile long in those black heels. My eyes rake back up and lock with the most gorg

eous eyes I’ve ever seen—a mix between caramel and amber. When she smiles, it’s like a thousand lights have been flipped on. Her beauty illuminates the room. Hearing her breath hitch again spreads warmth through my body. For the first time in years, I feel something in my dark soul.

“Miss Sullivan?” Brian asks.

“Ye-ye-yes,” her voice stutters a bit then regains composure. She walks straight to him and shakes his hand.

“Miss Sullivan, this is Maxwell McCoy, President and CEO of Hurst & McCoy. He’s joining us this morning.”

“Absolutely, of course. Nice to meet you, Mr. McCoy.” She reaches out to shake my hand. When our skin touches, heat runs through me again. I may hold on a bit too long because Brian clears his throat, indicating it’s time to start.

She steps back and he motions for her to sit. She pulls binders from her bag and distributes them. Brian pushes his to the side and sits up, placing his elbows on the table, lacing his hands together. This is his signature intimidation move and it instantly pisses me off.

“Miss Sullivan—”

“Stella, please,” she corrects him.

His eyes widen at the interruption but he continues, “Stella, Hurst & McCoy has been in the news recently and I would like to know what you know about our situation before we proceed.”

She looks between the both of us and sits back slightly, crossing her legs. My eyes travel to the skin now exposed on her thigh.

“How frank can I be?”

“I can see through bullshit as thick as it comes. I want honesty and grit. Our situation is not pretty and it will piss me off if you try to sugar coat it,” I answer her and Brian looks at me annoyed.

“Well then, Mr. McCoy, to be blunt. Your public image on the JOS Athletic Apparel is shit and has the ability to hit the bottom line of your other businesses. People are not happy with the deception uncovered, and if it hasn’t already, I believe, JOS could come close to bankruptcy.