Page 56 of Second Time Around

Chapter 10

Will strolled into his COO’s office, an exact duplicate of his own, only reversed so the two walls of windows looked over the Hudson River and uptown while Will’s shared the river view but faced downtown. Greg was on the phone, so Will went over to watch a tugboat shoving two barges upriver. He realized that when he was in his own office, he almost never looked at the view.

Today, though, the view was less compelling than his memories of the night before. And the morning after. It wasn’t just the sex, though. Kyra kept turning his perspective on end, making him examine new possibilities. Forcing him—no, leading him—into honesty about himself. He wasn’t sure he was entirely comfortable with all of his revelations to her.

But he’d hated helping her climb into the limo this morning, her hair braided into a thick rope that swung over her shoulder. She wouldn’t even commit to seeing him tonight because of her damned bartending job. She said it would be late when she got out, as if he cared what time she came back to his bed.

So he’d fired off a text with a John Donne quote that popped into his head.

Licence my roving hands, and let them go,

Before, behind, between, above, below.

He felt a flash of heat as he remembered her response, some lines from Algernon Swinburne, which she confessed were really about a woman but she felt described him just as well.

The long lithe arms and hotter hands than fire,

The quivering flanks, hair smelling of the south,

The bright light feet, the splendid supple thighs

And glittering eyelids of my soul’s desire.

He’d expected sass and she had given him passion. He’d been knocked off-balance.

Will’s attention was jerked away from Kyra as Greg finished his call and leaned back in his ergonomic chair. The gray in his salt-and-pepper hair caught gleams of morning sunlight. “I can tell you want me to do something.”

Will dropped into a chair in front of the desk and stretched out his legs. “If I want you to do something, I ask you into my office. When I have an idea, I come to yours.”

“The fine points of your upper-crust etiquette are too subtle for me. I’m just a blue-collar kind of guy.”

“Yet you’re wearing a suit and tie.”

“I’ve sold out.” Greg grinned. “What’s your idea?”

“Dog food.”

That startled a crack of laughter from Greg. When Will didn’t smile, his COO lifted an eyebrow. “What kind of dog food?”

“Food for dogs with delicate digestion. It has to be limited to a few fresh ingredients with no preservatives. I was thinking it could be Ceres for Canines.”

“May I ask where you got this idea?”

“An after-school care center in South Harlem. They have a program called K-9 Angelz where the kids are responsible for dogs as part of their education. One of the dogs had digestive problems, so an old college friend of mine came up with a recipe that solved them.” Will saw reservations forming on Greg’s face. “We would offer it only in upscale locations where dog owners pamper their pets. But I see a real market with plenty of margin there.”

“I’m worried about putting the Ceres brand on dog food. Might freak out some human customers.”

“I think it will add cachet to the dog food and some warm fuzzies to the human food, but we can let the marketing wizards figure that out.”

Greg looked as though a thought had just struck him. “This college friend of yours. Would it be the same one who made you smile last week?”

Now things got delicate. “One and the same. I think we should hire her to work on the dog food project.”

Greg tilted the chair back to look up at the ceiling. “How do I ask this politely? Oh, right, I can’t.” He brought his gaze to Will’s face. “Are you sleeping with her?”

“Yes.” Will never lied to his partner. “But that has no effect on my evaluation of her abilities.”

“I’ll buy that. You’ve never let pleasure get in the way of business. But it could become awkward with HR.”