Chapter 8 #2
"Conservative?" she repeated, a single, perfect eyebrow winging upward. She let out a soft scoff. "Sounds... somewhat boring."
Ouch.
That stung my professional pride.
"Well, I gathered some storyboards to help visualize what we could present to the board," I said, trying to regain control of the room. I opened my binder and slid a series of meticulously mapped-out scene grids across the marble toward her.
She looked down at them, but she didn't even bother picking them up. She just crossed one delicious, silky leg over the other, her Tom Ford heel swinging slightly.
"Seems like you already have it all planned out," she murmured.
"I did some pre-planning, yes," I said, shrugging like it wasn't a big deal, even though I'd spent hours on it.
"Well, I think we should utilize the colors in a completely different way," she said, bypassing my layout entirely. "Maybe do some improv work outside... maybe at a park or something raw."
The idea itself didn't actually sound bad, but my silence must have been telling. I was still reeling from the shock of having to share my creative vision with her for the next two months.
"Listen," Pepper started softly, her tone shifting into something warmer as she looked directly into my eyes. "From what I've gathered, Aaron, you are very strategic and by the book. But remember our pact."
A beautiful, knowing smile broke across her face.
"We were going to make an attempt to go outside of our norm. Well, this is our chance. What do you say? Are you daring enough to break out of your comfort zone?"
I suppressed a smile, my heart doing a heavy thud.
"You chose this massive, multi-million-dollar corporate project to utilize our pact?"
"What? This is the absolute perfect time to push the envelope," she argued, her conviction filling the room. "How many athletic wear brands have the exact same washed, sterile image? Jolt wouldn't have chosen the two of us if they didn't expect something entirely different."
I wasn't used to being challenged by a woman with such fierce, unapologetic confidence, especially one who looked as jaw-droppingly good as Pepper. Defeated, I let out a slow breath and closed my binder.
"Okay. You're right."
"I'm right? Hmm... I think I like the sound of that," she purred.
She stood up from her chair, her stunning frame moving with effortless grace as she walked around the table toward my side.
"This is going to be fun. Bayou Park Wednesday?"
She paused right next to my chair, giving me a quick wiggle of her eyebrow and a sly, devastating smile. Leaning down close to my ear, her breath fanning my skin, she whispered,
"Bring gym shoes."
And with that, she turned on her heel and walked straight out of the boardroom, the sharp, rhythmic clink-clink-clink of her stilettos echoing against the floor.
She left me sitting there, unable to utter a single word. I was stunned and more intrigued than ever.
I finally rose from my chair, straightened my shirt, and headed out of the building. I had absolutely no idea how I was going to work professionally with her over the next few months. After the weekend we had just shared, I was going to need every ounce of focus I could possibly muster.
The rest of Monday and Tuesday passed in a total blur.
I managed to drag myself through several virtual editing meetings with my other clients before finally making it back to my house.
The heavy silence of my place enveloped me, which only made my wandering thoughts ten times worse.
I ended up forcing myself to eat some dinner and heading to bed early, desperately trying to shake her lingering image out of my mind.
When my alarm woke me the next morning, I felt a chaotic mix of eagerness and dread to see her. As usual, I was prompt and exactly on time, pulling up to Bayou Park. At this hour, the trail was relatively quiet and empty, the morning fog still lifting off the grass.
I sat down on a concrete bench and glanced at my watch.
It was 9:09 AM.
We were supposed to meet at 9:00 sharp.
She was already running late.
Maybe it was the pressure of the project, but I took scheduling seriously. A knot of irritation started to form in my chest until the second she arrived.
Walking up the concrete path, Pepper looked spectacular.
She wore a teal athletic set that flawlessly hugged her curves, showcasing her toned stomach and strong legs.
Her vibrant ginger hair was pulled up into a sleek bun, a small duffel bag hung from her arm, and her professional camera was slung over her shoulder.
Balancing two iced coffees, she headed straight toward me with a radiant smile.
"Forgive me for being late," she said. "I had to make a quick stop."
I stood up to greet her, my eyes tracing her figure before I could stop myself.
"Oh, good, you wore gym shoes," she said excitedly, eyeing my sneakers.
"Yeah. Why did you insist on them?" I asked, baffled as I accepted one of the iced coffees.
Instead of answering, she lightly tossed the small duffel bag toward my chest.
I caught it and unzipped the top.
Reaching inside, I pulled out a pair of sleek, high-end male running shorts. I held them up, frowning. They were significantly shorter and more form-fitting than anything I usually worked out in.
"What's this?" I asked, looking from the fabric back to her.
"It's a sample from the new Jolt Noir collection," she said, her eyes flashing with creative excitement. "I swung by corporate and picked up some pieces this morning. I'm wearing one of the women's sets right now."
She turned on her heel, giving me a full view.
The high-performance fabric hugged her figure perfectly.
I swallowed hard, forcing my focus away from her and back to the gear in my hands.
"And you want me to..." I trailed off.
"I want you to put them on and run a couple of miles on the trail with me," she stated simply.
"Why?" I asked, genuinely missing the professional point of a morning jog.
"Because," Pepper said, stepping closer, her hazel eyes locking onto mine with artistic clarity. "I like to get a feel for what I'm going to be working with. If we actually move in the material, we'll get an authentic idea of how to produce and showcase it to the world."
I stared at her, the words hanging in the quiet morning air.
I let out a slow breath, stunned.
It was one of the most unique, practical creative approaches I had ever heard from a photographer.
"Hmm," I said, impressed as a genuine smile broke through my strict demeanor. "That's not a bad idea at all."
I looked down at the fabric, then back up at her glowing face, torn between keeping things strictly professional or telling her exactly how breathtaking she looked.