15. Kent
Chapter Fifteen
KENT
If I thought last night was mad, this morning has gone much the same.
It doesn’t help that I could hardly sleep last night.
Not with Liz sleeping in my bed. I don’t think I’ve ever had a woman in my bed without me.
But here I am, sitting across from one of the most captivating women I’ve ever encountered.
Maybe the most captivating under the circumstances.
The restaurant is buzzing with the normal elite lot but we’ve got a quiet table at the back corner of the restaurant. Liz and I are awaiting our respective meals while sipping on a crisp and biting Pinot Grigio.
She takes a light sip and hardly looks at me. “Should we get down to business?”
I clear my throat and pull up her file on my tablet. “Sure.”
“What do you know about my company?” she asks, still not looking at me.
“I know it’s appropriately named. Solid design, solid material, solid American manufacturing, and available in loads of solid colors. I reviewed all of Jacqueline’s notes this morning, and I’d like to make some adjustments to the strategy.”
Her gaze meets mine. Now I’ve got her attention. “Oh, really?” Liz sounds slightly offended.
I lean back in my chair and smooth my tie down my chest. “Don’t get me wrong. It’s not bad, but I think we can do better.”
She raises her delicate eyebrow. “Go on.”
“I’ve been looking at your sales demographics, online marketing, and so on, and I think now is the perfect time to rebrand. Particularly your logo.”
Those delicate brows of hers turn fierce as they synch together over her glaring amber eyes. “What’s wrong with my logo? The branding elements are what helped grow the company from nothing.”
“Perhaps, but the strategies that got you here will not get you where you want to go. You’re already in a period of transition, so why not take the opportunity to make a transformation and better position the company?
This is it, Liz. I can feel it.” And I can feel it.
Before when I looked into Liz’s company, I was mostly curious about her.
But when I knew taking her case was a possibility this morning, I looked at the data completely differently.
And I felt it—that knowing in my gut that with the right strategy, SOLIDS could be a staple brand.
Liz takes this in and that sparkle in her eyes returns for a split second. “I’ll admit your passion is compelling.”
The woman has no idea just how compelling my passion can be. And if I continue sleeping on the sofa in my office, she never will. “You have to trust me. I’ve done this many times with great success. I know what I’m talking about.”
“So what do you have in mind?” she asks.
I take a sip of wine. “There’s a great marketing firm here in London that I want you to meet with. I’ve already set up an appointment for later this week.”
Liz holds up her hand. “Hold on. A British firm?”
“Do you have a problem with the British?” I ask, tapping my fingers on the table.
“Obviously not,” she says and flashes the diamond on her finger. “But SOLIDS is an American brand. It’s known for its American-made clothing. Everything is sourced within the United States. How can I have an English logo on an American brand?”
“First of all, you don’t have a statement under your logo that says Made in America. And second, if it’s so important to you to be completely sourced in the US, then why work with a venture capitalist in the U.K.?”
Liz slightly rolls her eyes with a sigh. “Touché.”
“Besides, our countries are allies. And if you ask me, the Brits and Americans make a good pairing.” I flick an eyebrow without thinking.
Liz begins to smile but bites it back. “Do you have to do that?”
“Do what?”
“Be so flirtatious with your suggestive gestures?”
“Yes, it’s quite a compulsion when you’re around.
” It’s true. I’m finding it damn near impossible not to turn on the charm around her.
I know she enjoys it as much as I do. I also understand the lines have been blurred.
This whole situation is stressful on its own, so why not loosen up and be ourselves?
Have a little fun. It’s Christmas, after all.
“And why’s that?” she asks.
I lean in, staring into her sparkling, brown eyes. “Because, Liz. You’re just so damn stunning.”
The server returns with two bowls of steaming tomato basil soup. Liz clears her throat and thanks the server. She waits for me to take a bite before she dips her spoon in herself.
“Mmm. That’s really good tomato soup,” she says, and I let out a little snicker. “What?”
“Your accent. To-may-toe. It’s cute.”
“What about yours? To-mah-toe.”
“Hey, that’s pretty good.”
She shrugs playfully. “I say to-may-toe and you say to-mah-toe.”
I swallow my hot, delicious soup. “Right. Let’s call the whole thing off.”
“Well, it looks like we will in the new year.” Liz offers a sobering response to our playful banter.
“I really appreciate what you’re doing for me,” I say.
“Same. So I guess you’ve never been engaged before.”
I shake my head. “No, not even close. What about you? Ever been married?”
Liz lowers her gaze. “Almost.”
I lower my spoon. “Oh, really.” The idea of Liz almost marrying someone strikes heat up the back of my neck. I had no idea. But why would I? We hardly know each other.
“Yeah, it’s a long story,” she says.
“I have time,” I say, wanting to know every detail and also wanting to forget I brought up the topic to begin with.
“Maybe some other time.” She looks up, and her eyes go dark. “Why don’t we get back to work.”
I nod, then tap my tablet awake again. Over the next forty-five minutes, Liz and I talk strategy and come up with a new game plan for the week.
It’s not as easy to stay focused as it normally would be.
Every time she looks down at her notes, I catch myself staring at her long lashes.
And when she speaks, it’s impossible not to gaze at her perfect, pink lips and those beautiful cheekbones.
But it’s not just her face. It’s her mind.
The way she thinks. Despite the distractions, the entire conversation feels effortless.
There’s something about her that sparks my creativity, my passion even more.
“You know, I wasn’t sure this would work but you really are the best person for the job,” she says.
I smile, accepting the compliment. “Well, you have a pretty solid business. Pun intended.” She giggles, and I get lost in the sound. “Shall we return to the office?”
“Sure.”
I settle the bill, and we slip our coats on and exit the restaurant. My car is waiting just outside. But on the chilly, ten-foot walk from door to door, the click and snaps of camera shutters and flashing lights surround us.
Uh-oh. I look up at the paparazzi approaching. “Shit.”
Liz turns and hides her face. “What the hell?”
“Come on, let’s go,” I say, ushering her into the car, the pap snapping his camera up to the window. My driver takes off, getting us out of there.
“What just happened?” Liz asks.
“Paparazzi,” I say, staying calm and praying no one has tipped them off.
Who would do that? Collin would. Then again, if my father found out he talked to the press about our family’s private life, he’d be furious.
This isn’t the time for him to be on my father’s bad side.
So I’m going to chalk it up to a random act of nonsense because that’s the most likely conclusion.
“The paparazzi? Are you serious?”
“Yeah, ever since Drew left London and got married, I’ve become the elusive Bonnaire.”
“So that’s normal for you?”
“Unfortunately but don’t worry. They only print the more telling photographs. Getting into my town car with a woman doesn’t warrant publishing.”