Caught Up in Us (5 page)

I slumped back in my chair. I’d
had no idea his firm had been touched by this sort of scandal. Was
Bryan the one who discovered the affair? How had he handled it? Was
he cool and clinical? Or pissed off and fuming like I would be? I
Googled Wilco next and clicked on an interview he’d done with a
business news channel a year ago after Made Here inked a new deal
with a large retailer.

“What’s the biggest challenge your
company faces in the quarter ahead?” the reporter asked at the end
of the piece.

“Honestly, now’s not the time to
talk about challenges. Now’s the time to just focus on our new
partnership,” Wilco said, but there was a curtness to his answer
and a snappish sort of tone in his voice. He wasn’t the most
affable guy, that was for sure. Bryan would have done a much better
job with the interview, coming across as warm and smart.

Then I shook my
head as if I could rid myself of the thoughts. Why was I wasting
any mental energy on how Bryan would have managed a cable news
interview? Much less on how he felt when his business partner got
caught canoodling? Bryan’s feelings didn’t matter to me anymore. I
read a few more articles on Made Here’s business strategy, then
researched the skatewear gal so I was prepped for tomorrow. I
shifted gears and tended to some online orders, responded to some
emails, and checked out a few of my favorite European design blogs.
Then I worked on my other classwork, keeping a laser focus the
whole time. It was nearly midnight when my roommate Jill, with her
dark blond hair and deep blue eyes, threw open the door and
announced she was home from an epic dress rehearsal in which the
cast of
Les Mis
had kicked unholy musical ass. I laughed and listened to her
report.

When she was done, I clasped my
hands together. “You will never believe what happened
today.”

“Tell me.”

I proceeded to share every single
detail of my afternoon. “Isn’t that the most ridiculous thing
you’ve ever heard? I’m marching into my professor’s office and
requesting a new mentor tomorrow.”

Jill smirked.

“What?”

She rolled her eyes.

“Okay, what now?”

Then came a shrug and a knowing
look. “I’m just saying, it doesn’t sound like you hated the kiss as
much as you’re making it sound like you hated the kiss.”

“I hated every second of it,” I
said through tight lips.

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that,
my kitty cat.”

*****

The next morning Jill woke me up
bright and early by throwing a sports bra on my face. “Rise and
burn, sunshine. Rise and burn.”

I rolled over in bed and shielded
my eyes. “Go away.”

That made Jill jump onto my bed
and bounce up and down.

“How is it you can rehearse til
midnight and have the energy to go for a run at seven in the
morning?”

“I’m a vampire. I don’t need
sleep. I survive off the nectar of my Broadway ambitions. And let’s
not forget I was actually up til past midnight listening to you
tell me all about Mr. Hottie McCufflinks.”

I swatted Jill with a pillow, then
sat up in bed.

Jill clapped. “I won. Let’s go
run.”

She was already in her leggings,
sports bra and a tight tee-shirt, with her long blond hair looped
in a hair tie.

“Fine,” I said, then brushed my
teeth, yanked my hair into a ponytail and pulled on workout
clothes. We ran when we hit the sidewalk of Twenty-Second Street
heading for the West Side Bike Path. The sun was rising, and it
promised a warm September day, free of rain.

“So what’s your
plan? How are you going to resist him during your mentorship?” Jill
started, arms tucked properly by her body, feet hitting the ground
in perfect runner’s stride. Back in high school, when Jill wasn’t
nabbing starring roles in musical theater productions, she was a
runner for her cross-country team. Oh, have I mentioned she’s also
finished five marathons? I must have been crazy to run with her
because when it comes to sports I specialized in
walking
,
just walking
, and
only walking
. That’s why
I only ran with her once a week and even then I spent most of the
thirty minutes consumed by one singular, solitary, painful
thought:
Please let this be over as soon
as humanly possible.

“I’m asking for a transfer. But
even if I can’t get one, I don’t like Bryan, so it’ll be
fine.”

“Ha.”

“Besides, he
doesn’t like me either,” I said in between breaths.

“I find that hard to
believe.”

“Jill, he didn’t like me five
years ago. Why would he like me now?”

She gave me a
sideways glance. “He
did
like you then. He just freaked out. Got scared or
something. That’s what I’ve always believed and you know it. As for
why he likes you now – duh. You’re you and you’re hot.” Jill slowed
down her running. Delighted, I followed her lead into a more
comfortable jog. “Besides. He. Kissed. You.”

I scoffed. “He kissed my
forehead.”

“For. Ten. Seconds.”

“Anyway, it was nothing. I hit my
head, and he was just being nice. Nothing more will happen. Because
there is nothing going on.”

Jill cackled.

“What?”

“Kat. Seriously. You always fall
for the hot ones.”

“Who doesn’t
fall for the hot ones?”

“True.” We jogged past a pair of
twentysomething guys running shirt-free. “Nice abs,” Jill called
out, and the guys gave her a thumbs up. Jill was such an actress —
she never had a problem speaking her mind or standing out in a
crowd.

“Besides, how do you know he’s
hot?”

“I looked up his picture. I looked
him up too because I know you’re all Miss Resistance when it comes
to Internet stalking, but I’m not. You know he’s single,
right?”

“He’s twenty-eight. I’m not
surprised he’s not married yet.”

“No, I mean he’s really single.
Broke up with some publicist type he was dating on and off for a
few years.”

“It if was on and off, it’ll
probably be on again. Plus, allow me to remind you that – “ I
slowed down and made a megaphone with my hands “– He. Doesn’t.
Like. Me. Hello? Don’t you remember why I started My Favorite
Mistakes?”

“Of course. But people change. And
he’s clearly realized the error of his ways.”

“Look, I can’t mess up this
mentorship. I know this makes me a freak, but I actually like my
parents and want to help them. So I’m all-work-and-no-play-Kat for
the fall.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it,”
she said playfully. “And don’t worry. I like your parents
too.”

“Good. That’s why I can’t even go
there,” I said, in between heavy breaths from running.

“No. That’s why you have to be
smart about it. Strategic. So whatever happens will have to be a
secret. Between you, him, and me. And when you kiss him again, just
make sure no one sees you,” Jill said, then gave me a big
wink.

I shook my head, but I was smiling
at her persistence, even though I knew I couldn’t take chances,
whether anyone was looking or not. I had too much at stake, most of
all my own bruised heart.

Chapter Six

I knocked on Professor Oliver’s
door, but it was wide open. He was that kind of a teacher. The door
was never closed.

“Come in, Ms. Harper,” he said,
and gestured to the chair near his desk. “I’m delighted about the
assignments this semester, and I hope you are too.”

“That’s why I’m here, actually.
While I have the utmost admiration for Mr. Leighton and all that
he’s achieved as a chief executive at his company, I’d very much
prefer a mentor in the retail sector,” I said.

Professor Oliver
cocked his head to the side. “But Mr. Leighton is a
perfect match
for you.”
I winced at the words
perfect
match
. Sure, I knew Professor Oliver
didn’t intend anything by them, because he wasn’t talking match in
the romantic sense. In fact, entanglements were expressly
forbidden. He’d posted an image of a stop sign on his class Web
site and the sign read: “No Mentor-Protege hanky-panky. Or else an
F.” That was how he wrote, with words like
hanky-panky
. But it was the
or else an F
directive
that scared me.

I pressed forward. “I had really
hoped Lacey Haybourne, who founded the skateboard line, would be
the best pair-up for me. We’re both, essentially, in the fashion
industry,” I said, adding more details on why the change made
sense.

Professor Oliver nodded
thoughtfully as if he were considering my request, and I felt like
I could exhale for the first time since Bryan had walked into the
classroom yesterday. That I wasn’t going to spend the next three
months encased in some sort of dormant anger. Professor Oliver
picked up a fountain pen that reminded me of one I’d seen at the
upscale Elizabeth’s department store recently. He twirled it
between his thumb and forefinger. “Let me shed some light on why I
made the match. For My Favorite Mistakes to grow and become a
powerful jewelry brand, you’ll need to learn about scale. About
production. About manufacturing. That’s the field Mr. Leighton is
in. And what I think your business needs most is this sort of —”
Professor Oliver paused as if to consider the words, “— horizontal
learning.”

Horizontal
learning
.

Damn.

I knew he meant
our businesses had shared attributes, though Bryan’s was, of
course, multinational. Still, I issued a warning to my
brain.
Don’t go there. Don’t imagine
anything else horizontal with Bryan Leighton. Don’t picture him
laying you down on a hotel bed and taking off all your clothes.
Don’t even think about his lips on you
.

“I understand
sir. I just think —”

“Ms. Harper,” Professor Oliver
said gently, but firmly closing a door on my final effort. “Bryan
Leighton will be your mentor, and it will be great for you. Thank
you for your understanding.”

I was clearly dismissed. I turned
to leave, deflated that my negotiation skills were sorely lacking,
and frustrated that I’d have to spend three months with someone I’d
spent five years trying to forget.

“Oh, one more thing.”

I looked back, and he handed me a
business card with a phone number. “My wife wants to give one of
your necklaces to a friend. They’re going to be huge, your jewelry.
Can you give her a call?”

“Thank you, sir.”

On the way out, I called Professor
Oliver’s wife, who promptly informed me that she didn’t just want
my necklace for a friend. She had much bigger plans, and wanted to
discuss them over lunch so we agreed to meet later in the week.
After I hung up, I Googled her to see if I could prepare in
advance, but when I entered her full name into the browser on my
phone — Claire Oliver — I found nothing to connect her to the
retail jewelry business.

I’d have to wing it.

Then, I bit the
bullet and emailed Bryan to let him know that Friday would work to
visit his factory. I stuffed my phone, which I kept in a sparkly
Hello Kitty case, underneath my eReader, my wallet, and some
tissues at the bottom of my purse, hoping
out of sight, out of mind
would rule
the rest of my day.

Not that I was waiting for his
reply. Not that I wanted to see him again. Not at all.

*****

I’d picked out the perfect outfit
to meet Professor Oliver’s wife.

I zipped up my A-line skirt, slid
into a pair of black pumps and adjusted my purple scoop neck top
one more time. I’d snagged the shirt from a shop in Brooklyn that
always had amazing deals on clothes so I could look sharp at the
occasional business meeting without blowing my budget. My dark hair
was blown straight, and I had just the right amount of makeup on.
Lipstick and some mascara. I grabbed my electric blue purse, a cute
retro number, because it was large enough to hold more necklace
samples in different styles, lengths and colors, as well as an
assortment of charms.

I left the apartment and caught
the subway to my meeting on the Upper East Side. I hadn’t looked at
my phone for an entire hour, so I allowed myself a quick peek on
the train. I’d been on a once-an-hour diet since I sent Bryan the
note yesterday so I figured I deserved many pats on the back. That
was good restraint, right?

When his name
appeared in my email now, I squeaked out an excited
oh
.

I wanted to smack myself. What was
wrong with me? I didn’t even like him.