Never Forgotten: Second Chances (11 page)

"And you?"

"I'll be VP of Marketing and Chairman of the Board overseeing things while you run the company."

She thought about it more seriously than she thought she would. From a financial perspective, it was an incredibly good offer, but it would mean that they'd work for Striker, doing things his way. She wasn't clear how well that would work or what happened if it didn't.

"Why are you hesitating? You should be dancing on the table."

"It's a big gamble."

"How so?"

"What if it doesn't work out? You can promise me that job and fire me a week later."

"You'd still be a stockholder with cash in your pocket and a seat on the board."

A nagging feeling made her wonder if she'd want to be in that board room when it came down to it. "I'll have to think about it. And I need to see if Craig will consider it."

"And see what your analyst has to say, yada, yada, yada. I get it. Well, I need to know where I stand sooner rather than later. I'll give you a week to decide. After that, the offer is off the table."

The way he'd said she had a week made her hackles rise. The week was important to him and she wondered why that was. "What happens in a week?"

"Plan B happens. And I promise it won't be as pleasant as my offer."

"Because time is money, if you decide to throw in with me sooner than that, give me a call I'll sweeten the deal a little." As she started to leave, he put his hand on hers. "By the way, while you are looking for alternatives to my offer, be advised that I'll be examining my options as well. If I have better luck than you... well, don't fuck around."

The clammy feeling of his hand on hers made her shudder. She grabbed her briefcase and left the bar.

* * * *

It bothered her that Striker had made such a good offer--no one but a fool would dismiss it out of hand. She tried to imagine running his company, working with him. The idea made her head hurt. But she had to consider it. So far there weren't a lot of options, and any investor they found could easily be every bit as mercenary as Striker. The things that she didn't like about the man were the qualities that had made him successful.

If it came to it, if she ran out of time and choices, she'd have to sell the company to him, but she wouldn't panic yet. Stalling him had risks too. There was nothing in writing, and if their situation got more desperate, if he had them over a barrel, he wouldn't offer quite the deal he mentioned.

That the best deal might not give her the best outcome bothered her. It failed the test of the right working of things, and she needed to think she'd have better choices before it was over.

These were the confused and pained thoughts that surrounded her as she went to meet Riley. He was waiting for her, to kiss her, to touch her face, stroking her cheek softly with a delicacy that surprised her. "You're with me now. Push unpleasant thoughts out of your head." He put his arms around her and held her against him until she melted in his strong arms. Then he kissed her, running his hands over her back, pressing her against him making her body warm with desire. Although she was bursting with a desire to tell him about the evening, to talk about the offer and have him reassure her, she wanted him to make love to her even more. As if he read her mind, he bared her body to his touch, his kiss. He made her the focus of his attention, arousing her until she shivered with desire and then taking her to his bed where his lovemaking intensified, evolving to a rough and wild fucking that made her forget about business for the night.

Never had putting off the unpleasant seemed more satisfying.

The next day Megan got out of bed early and was looking for her clothes when Riley turned to look at her, his face still puffy with sleep. He stared at her as if she was doing something foolish. "What are you doing?"

She laughed. "I'm going to the office. I need to make calls, and I thought we could meet for lunch, and I'd give you my report."

"Why?"

"What do you mean?"

"What are you going to do at the office? Will anyone else be there?"

"Of course."

"So you are open on Saturday?"

She laughed. "I lost track of the day of the week."

"Let me make you a lazy breakfast. After that you can tell me what our mutual friend Bill Striker wants. If you feel up to it. Unless it's just something not worth discussing."

Her stomach knotted. "It's something we do need to discuss."

"But not before breakfast, at least. I won't give him the satisfaction of giving us indigestion. I love weekend breakfasts and wasting time lingering over a second cup of coffee."

"Oh, you do know how to sweet talk a girl, you charmer. But it better be good coffee."

"The best." He got up and rummaged in his closet, pulling out a robe and handing it to her. "This is more appropriate garb for a lovely and lazy weekend morning."

To her amazement Riley turned out to be wonderful in the kitchen. He made fixing eggs Benedict look easy. His stove top espresso pot produced an aromatic and strong coffee. When it was ready he put everything on a tray. "Outside with thee, wench. It's too lovely to stay inside," he cried and carried the tray out to his patio. It opened onto a lush garden that pleased her, and she sat down feeling quite at home.

"Do you have a green thumb?" she asked, thinking how the greenery surrounding them provided a serene and relaxing atmosphere.

"Absolutely. It got that way by counting out dollar bills to my wonderful gardener, Janie. I pay her well and try to keep my promise never to actually touch the plants, as I don't have a personal rapport with them, she tells me."

"I tried to garden but my attempts to grow things produced a wonderful assortment of brown sticks in pots that no one seemed to enjoy, even me."

"We have our strengths, you and I, even if plants don't appreciate us. And the gardeners of the world need people like us. Those of us not conversant with the mystic world of plants pay them to do something they love. It's a symbiotic relationship that serves us all. That's my idea of good business."

"Mine too."

They finished their breakfast in silence, and a warm and pleasant feeling filled her. She knew that part of it came from just being with Riley. Later, when they were done with breakfast, and he'd made them each a second cup of his magical coffee, she told him about her meeting with Striker. He stayed quiet, listening to every word. When she finished, he summed up her own feelings. "It's a great offer. Amazingly good. It makes you wonder why he's so generous."

Wanting to know if he meant what she thought by that, she insisted he explain.

Riley sighed and looked out over the garden. "It makes me wonder what he's after. Is it the program, like he said? Is he after Craig?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Craig has a five year contract with the company. If Bill buys the company, he also buys that contract. So is that what he wants. Or is it you? Or some combination?"

"Remember when I asked you who my client is?" She nodded. "This is a great offer for the company—I can't see you getting a better one. It solves its problems and ensures a long-term future. And, assuming he follows through on the promise of stock for you, it would be good for you financially. Love Striker or hate him, he's built a solid and diversified company that has no debt. You'd make a packet on the deal."

"Craig gets cut out, though."

Riley patted her hand. "What does ownership mean to Craig? It's good for his ego, but he doesn't act like an owner. If you sold out, and he kept his stock, he wouldn't know what to do. This deal gives him resources to do what he wants, and if he keeps coming up with ideas that sell Striker will happily throw money at him and not get in his way."

"I hadn't thought of it that way."

"You're the one who wouldn't do well working for Striker."

"Could be messy."

"Very." He rubbed his hands together. "So you see the dilemma. I don't think you'll find anyone willing to offer such a deal or even quite as much money as you need and want to make your new product happen. It's likely you can find someone to invest, but they'll expect to see you trim the marketing plan a lot and then still expect to see a quick return. It doesn't matter that we all know that cutting the budget would reduce the odds of it making any money at all. And you can scream that an underfunded launch almost guarantees the program dies stillborn all you want, but people coming in this late in the game are going to resist investing the full amount."

"So are you saying that we should consider his offer seriously?"

"And how you want to deal with his idea of you as CEO. We don't know what points are deal breakers, but if you walked away with a nice price for your stock you could start over."

The words 'start over' made her wince and sounded frightening. "I have no idea what I'd want to do. I've spent the last few years focused on making this company real and tangible."

"You could start with a vacation."

She leaned forward and looked at him across the table. "Riley, are you trying to get rid of me?"

He laughed. "Not at all. I was thinking about taking a break myself when this is done. I've been turning away new business lately. I'm getting stale. I need to shake off the cobwebs somehow. Maybe go down to Central America and wander, or see some of Africa. I haven't done any of the things I promised myself I'd do when I got real money, and it's mostly because I had no one I wanted to do those things with."

The idea struck her as interesting and fun. She'd never thought about taking a vacation in her life. Not since she was planning to go to Milan. "It's a good thought, doing something like that together. At least it sounds wildly romantic at this moment."

"Ah, the cautious businesswoman reaches out to dampen the moment with her rampant and uncontrollable pragmatism."

She took his hand. "You wouldn't like me any other way."

"Probably not."

"Besides, I'm having a bit of trouble seeing you in Bermuda shorts walking down a beach in Brazil singing 'Girl From Ipanema'."

Riley laughed. "Me too, to be honest. But isn't that why you go to a place like that, to be someone you aren't when you're anywhere else?"

"I suppose, but I have to wonder how long the novelty of doing that would sustain people like us."

Riley drained the last of his coffee. "As long as we let it, I'd imagine." He squinted at her. "It might be harder for you. I think you're more ambitious than I am."

The idea made her laugh. "Me?"

"You. I don't feel compelled to do much other than what I've done. I've been thinking for some time about quitting entirely. A vacation would let me know if I'm insane or on the right track."

"A track to where?"

"A beach house in the Caribbean? A cottage in Tuscany? I don't know. Part of the thing would be to find out. See what it's like to live another way."

"But you've invested a hell of a lot in creating this life."

"Yes, I have. I envisioned what I wanted and set out to get it." He grinned. "But I did that, and now I'm starting to think that I enjoyed creating it much more than living it."

She tried to take that in. "That's shocking, Riley. I've never met someone who looked at things that way before."

His grin was almost boyish. "I always heard that unpredictably was supposed to be charming... almost irresistible. The truth is that I've gotten to a point where I'm just repeating myself, and that sucks, quite frankly. I've got money, and now I think I want to enjoy it, even if I don't know what that means yet. Increasingly I find myself asking myself a question I heard from an old sea captain. No matter what he was considering, his criteria was: 'Is the juice worth the squeeze?' It's a fair question and probably the most intelligent analysis you could make concerning Striker's offer. The fact is that with a ton of hard work you might do better than what he's put on the table, but you might not. And is it worth it? Where do you want to be in five years?"

"What outcome do you want?"

He tilted his head. "That's pretty much the question."

"My first serious boyfriend, who was the smartest person I ever met when it came to decision making, said that was his mantra. He focused on what something would do and ignored the things itself. He didn't care about the particulars, just the outcome. If he looked at a project from every angle and decided he liked the outcome it would likely produce, then as far as he was concerned he was for it."

"He sounds like a genius. What happened?"

"He disappeared."

"Disappeared?"

"Poof. Gone. His father was Italian and his mother American. The family had a small design consultancy in Milan. Sal's father was getting old and wanted to retire. He'd found an apprentice who was a brilliant designer but hopeless with business so we decided we'd go to Italy and take it over. We had grandiose dreams of leveraging it into our own little empire. Sal went ahead to spend some time with his father and arrange the paperwork so we could get married there while I wrapped things up here. I took him to the airport." She tried to smile. "I never heard from him again."

"My God."

"I called every day but his phone was never working, and he didn't answer the messages. I wrote to his father and got no answer. I went online to see if I could learn anything and found that his father had sold the business just a few days after Sal would have arrived. I was going to go there and look for him, but I don't speak Italian and knew no one else there." She shrugged. "After a year without a word, I was running out of money. I got a job offer and moved from Boston to California. That's where I made my first serious money and met Craig."

Riley reached over and took her hand. "That's terrible, the not knowing."

"You can't imagine how many nights I cried myself to sleep."

He looked at her with sad eyes.

She moved her chair closer to his and put her arm around him and forced a cheerfulness she didn't feel into her voice. "I'll think about that vacation. Of course, I need to tell Craig about Striker's offer on Monday. If he doesn't go for it, then the deal can't happen."