Summer Kisses (283 page)

“You ready to get started?” He slid into the chair opposite my desk.

I nodded, turning my laptop around so he could see the screen, then joined him on the guest side of the desk. “So this is your current website.” I brought up the site on my computer. It loaded slowly, and the graphics were... well, horrible.

Quinn winced. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“Well, it’s not ideal. It seems to me that you’d want to have something that matches the tone and appearance of the new print ads and commercials we’re going to shoot. We should match branding across all materials and aspects of your club.” I pulled up a test page I’d been working on. It was still pretty basic, and I wasn’t a coder, so I’d need one of the web development interns to make it actually work.

Ben-III thought he was hobbling me by limiting my resources. What he was actually doing was giving me the ability to showcase how many things I could do and how small a budget I could work with. I shot a quick mental thanks to Ben-II for making me work in every department as an intern.

“Wow. That looks
great!
”

I spent a full three seconds basking in his approval. “Thanks. I’m also going to suggest that we put it on a faster server and make it a little more user-friendly and not so...” I faded, unwilling to say too much more. What if his favorite nephew built the thing? I’ve stuck my foot in that quagmire a couple of times.

“Not so awful?”

“Well, I was thinking slow, but awful works, too.” I smiled. We talked about his site a little longer, and then he went back to his office.

Several hours later, I needed to check in with Amy, not to mention stretch my legs.

Paige wasn’t at her desk when I stepped out, and Quinn’s door was closed. I waffled for a moment about whether or not to disturb him when I heard his voice followed by John’s.

“What do you have against Katherine?” Quinn asked. I should have kept on going, but I couldn’t help myself.

“She seems capable.”

Capable was good. It wasn’t beautiful, intelligent, and talented, but given that the comment came from John, neither did I take it as a kick in the teeth. But why did Quinn think John had something against me? Was it his former relationship with Will?

“Capable?” Quinn asked.

“I lodged my complaints the other night. It’s not that I dislike her. But let’s face it, she’s hardly your type,” John said.

Though I’d known that since the moment I met Quinn, the sting of disappointment lanced through me.

“You go for the cheerleader type,” John continued. “Short and perky with a nice rack. There’s not a ”Rah! Go! Team!” bone in her body, though I’ll admit she does have the rack.”

I ground my teeth, not thinking much of John at that moment. “Show some class,” Quinn said.

For that, I could have hugged him.

“You’re not really considering dating her, are you?” John sounded aghast. I was eavesdropping full on, even though I knew better. One never hears nice things about oneself.

Quinn didn’t answer, or if he did, I couldn’t hear his response.

“Picture it, will you? Suppose you take her to the Association of Sports Professionals banquet on Friday. You are the spokesperson for the fastest growing chain of fitness centers in Southwestern Ohio. Between the commercials, billboards, and spot you did on the news last week, people are starting to recognize you. You are the face of health and fitness in this town. Players from the Bengals and Reds work out here in the off-season. How would it look to show up to an event like that with a fat girl on your arm?”

With great effort, I sucked in a breath, feeling like I’d been punched in the diaphragm. And
that
is why one shouldn’t eavesdrop. As an advertising professional, I knew John wasn’t as far off as I’d like, but he was still horrible for saying so.

A pause that felt exceptionally long, but was probably only a second or two, passed before Quinn answered so quietly I couldn’t make out what he’d said.

Tears pricked behind my eyes, and I blinked rapidly when John spoke again. “This company is entirely about image. Amanda really has it in for you. Don’t hand her extra ammunition.”

Quinn’s next response was considerably louder.

“You know what, John? Back the hell off! If we have to spin it, we’ll spin it.”

I started to back away from the door before I could hear anything else. If I hadn’t already been convinced we’d make a lousy couple, that would have cinched it for me.

I was
not
something that needed to be
spun.

“Did you need something, Katherine?” Paige asked me as she reached the top of the stairs.

I shook my head and pasted on a smile as I turned around, praying I wouldn’t betray myself. “No. I’m headed back to my real office. I was going to tell Quinn I was leaving. Sounds like he’s in a conference with John.”

“You can interrupt.”

I shook my head vigorously. “No need.” I lied my way through a fictional client crisis even as I backed toward my borrowed office. “Tell him I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Unfortunately.

I still had too much work and too much information to gather to be able to avoid it. But
had to
and
wanted to
were now two completely different things.

“Hey, Paige. Have you seen Katherine?”

“She left about an hour ago. Something about a client emergency.”

Oh, perfect
. I’d had a horrible day of meetings, planning sessions, and desperate phone calls to try to save the new club. I’d been looking forward to blowing off a little steam with Katherine in the gym. Whether that was treadmill steam or the steam that seemed to naturally generate between us, I didn’t care.

John’s claim that she’d be the exact wrong person to take to the sports banquet was probably accurate. His claim that she’d be the end of the new club was less likely. I was sure that no one cared that much. Not even Amanda Shoemaker.

Despite my resolution prior to us having dinner together and my semi-hands-off attitude over the past week, I wanted to continue to keep seeing Katherine. At work. In the gym after work. Outside of work. Naked.

I shook my head. Heading down that path would totally get me in trouble.

I picked up the phone and tried to call her on her cell. It rang twice then went to voicemail. Maybe she was in a meeting or something. I called the main office number and learned she wasn’t taking calls. I left a voicemail message.

That was as much as I could do.

I recognized that the level of my disappointment—and frankly
hurt
—was higher than reasonable. Why hadn’t she at least stopped to say goodbye?

I headed down to the gym, trying to put Katherine out of my mind and failing miserably.

I drove back to my own office, breezed past reception, two interns, and Will’s open door before closing my own and punching the Do Not Disturb button on my phone to send all my calls directly to voicemail. Sure, it was a little cowardly, but I couldn’t face anyone at that moment.

Predictably, the closed door meant nothing to Ben-III. He barged right in about twenty minutes after I sat down and fortunately about five minutes after I’d stopped crying and managed to more or less pull myself together.

“Why aren’t you at Mitchell Fitness?” he asked without preamble.

I raised my eyes from my blank stare at the computer screen to him. “Quinn Mitchell was going to be in meetings the rest of the day so I thought I’d catch up on some stuff here. I need to borrow one of the IT guys. Information was stolen from Mitchell Fitness’ server, and we need to figure out how.”

“While this is an important account,” he began as if he hadn’t done everything in his power to sabotage it.

This was so not the time for one of Ben-III’s pointless lectures. He had about thirty seconds to get out of my office, or I wouldn’t be responsible for my actions.

“Look, Kath-ryn,”—I cringed—”I let you have this account because Will insisted. I know you’re hoping to make a permanent move to creative director, but I still think you don’t quite fit our model.” Which was to say camera-ready. “If you lose this account, you can guarantee, the promotion will never happen.”

Not like I didn’t know that. But I almost appreciated the reminder of what was important. My inappropriate feelings for Quinn were
not
important. Running this campaign brilliantly
was.

“And going over budget will definitely cause you to lose the account.”

I didn’t have the patience for this. “So will letting them get crucified in the media.”

“Then figure it out yourself. You know a lot about computers.”

I knew enough about computers to know that I wasn’t a server admin. Apparently in Ben-III’s mind, knowing how to use Microsoft Word was enough to be considered a computer expert. Which is why he had spent two rounds in the Web/IT department during our training and I’d made it out pretty quickly. A fact about which he was clearly still bitter.

Will chose that moment to pop his head in. “Hey, do you have time to go over the Mama DiSalvo’s account with me?” He pointedly looked at Ben-III.

That was Will’s account. I had never had anything to do with it, so I knew this was a save not an actual request for help. He probably sensed I was ready to toss Ben-III right out of my window.

“Sure.” I turned to Ben-III, who still hadn’t gotten the hint. “Don’t worry. I’ll figure out how to do this within budget.”

Ben-III backed out as Will elbowed his way in. I love Will.

He plopped into the seat across from my desk as if he couldn’t tell I was moments from total breakdown. Since we’ve been best friends forever, I knew he was aware of exactly how I felt. And, of course, total breakdown might be overstating it a bit, but I was seriously contemplating making an Oreo run.

Before Will could say anything, I cut him off. “Thanks for the save, but I am not in the mood today. You would be a lot safer to leave me alone.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You tell me everything.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I repeated as I shut down my laptop. I wasn’t going to get any work done today anyhow. I’d swing by the IT department and see if I could get some advice on my way out.

He held his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. I’ve got it.”

I shoved my computer into its bag as Will watched my movements.

“You’re right,” I said out of the blue. “Punxsutawney John
is
an asshole. I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”

Will stood up. “What happened?”

I gave him nearly a word-by-word account. So much for my not wanting to talk about it.

“Can I kill him?” he asked.

“Which?”

“John—no Quinn—No.
Both
of them.”

“Be my guest,” I said as I stood.

“You going somewhere?” he asked.

“IT then home. I’m done for the day.”

He checked his watch. “At four? Are you sick?”

Sick to my stomach. Sick of men. Sick of being fat, and sick of this conversation.

But actually ill? I didn’t answer the question. “I’ll call you in the morning.”

He sighed. “Okay. Take care of yourself. Feel free to call tonight if you need me.”

I shrugged. “I will. Thanks.” A small smile made it briefly to my lips.

“No problems, sugar. Chin up. It’ll be better tomorrow.” I couldn’t imagine that. After all, tomorrow I had to face Quinn again.

Stan, who had been in the IT department since before I’d started at Wurther walked me through what I needed to know to check the logs and offered further assistance off the books if required. Apparently, Ben-III had sent out a memo warning that no one should provide billable hours to the Mitchell project. Fortunately, he’d forgotten to tell them they couldn’t donate their time.

“Thanks, Stan. You’ve been the bright spot in my day.” Sadly, it was true. Unfortunately, the rest of the day weighed down on my like a ton of bricks.

After walking across the street to the parking garage, I opened the passenger door, dropped my briefcase on the front seat, then came around and climbed in. The car started without protest, but one glance at the instrument panel and I realized my little car was in dangerous need of a fill-up.

And that’s what caused my diet breakdown.

The pay-at-the-pump machine was out, so I had to go inside to pay. Right by the door, in the most compelling exhibition for impulse buying I’ve seen in a long while, sat an Oreo cookie display.

I snagged a full-sized package on my way to the counter. The teenybopper behind the counter gave me an “are-you-sure-you-want-to-do-that?” look, which I countered with a death-ray stare. It should have had her writhing on the ground in agony.

If only looks could kill.

I cracked the package open in the car, twisted the top off the first one, and popped it into my mouth. The chocolate cookie crunched pleasingly. If only I had something to wash it down with. I wished I’d had the forethought to grab a single-size serving of milk. I mean, what’re Oreos without milk?

After scraping the frosting off with my lower teeth, I chomped my way through the bottom half of the cookie, already feeling the chocolate shoot through my veins.

By the time I reached my house, remorse had set in. Shame snaked through me. So much for the couple of pounds I’d lost. I fought tears for the second time that day as I dumped the partially consumed package in the trash.

Pulling my duffel bag out of the trunk, I took it inside. No way in hell I’d go back to the gym today and risk running into Quinn. But I could take a walk.

After tossing my work clothes over the treadmill, I pulled on a pair of shorts, sports bra, and tee shirt. As my feet slid into my athletic shoes, I felt a little jolt of energy. Probably from the Oreos.

I slipped my house key into my pocket and stepped out the front door. The entrance to my subdivision is about five short blocks from the Sudden Falls bike trail, and I’m about five blocks from the entrance. Normally, I would have driven, but this time I walked.

The afternoon was warm as late May can occasionally be in Ohio. A trickle of sweat dripped down my back, and I took it as a good sign that I was getting some benefit out of the walk.