“You told me to get comfortable.”
“That doesn’t mean you should run around out here braless in a see-through shirt.”
“Can you see through it? Really?” she asked almost too innocently, glancing down at her chest.
“Yes,
really
. What if Keith brings the trash outside? Or worse, old man Kowalski.”
The octogenarian who lived behind them had gotten so excited one summer afternoon while watching Samantha pull weeds in her bathing suit, the man’s wife had to call 911 for an ambulance. The doctors claimed the old geezer had simply suffered from heat exhaustion, but Nick still had his doubts.
“Relax, there’s nearly an acre between us. And Mr. and Mrs. Kowalski moved to an assisted living facility in April.”
Yeah, but what about
his
poor ticker?
Sam chuckled. “I notice you’re not worried about Steve or Tim seeing me.”
“They wouldn’t look. Besides, they went to the movies tonight.” His fingers itched to tweak her nipples. They’d popped up like two little launch buttons, as if he could simply press them and send her into orbit.
And then he’d slowly lick and suck—
“In any case, no one can see anything in the dark,” she said, interrupting his fantasy.
He looked pointedly up at the light bulb shining over the door on the deck. “They can with that spotlight on you. Go inside, okay?”
And give the blood a chance to return to my brain.
“The steaks are almost done, so you can take the potatoes and veggies out of the oven. And if you’d like, you can dress the salad and serve it.”
She did as he suggested, and by the time he turned off the gas grill and carried the meat inside, she had everything on the table and was seated, sipping a glass of the wine he’d opened. He set the platter down, slid into his chair, and bowed his head. After a short blessing, he crossed himself and refilled her wineglass while she sliced off the filet portion on the smaller steak. When they finished serving themselves, he silently focused on his food, attempting to distract himself from Sam’s breasts, which were so close to her plate he couldn’t help imagining them as another side dish.
In between moaning about how delicious each bite was, Samantha chattered about her day at school and how cute the kids were. About halfway through their meal, she drained her second glass of wine. “You’ve been awfully quiet. You said we’d discuss the contents of that folder during dinner.” She nodded toward the file on the table. “So start explaining.”
“All right.” He refilled her wine goblet. “When I delivered your order to the hospital two weeks ago, I bought one of your Worry Pals.”
“For what?” She took a bite of her potato.
“As a prototype. I contacted several toy manufacturers this week to discuss outsourcing for—”
“Please tell me you’re joking.” She swallowed and coughed as if the food had stuck halfway down her throat. “You actually showed my Magic Worry Pal to a bunch of toy companies?” She slammed down her fork. “What’s to stop them from stealing my idea?”
“What’s keeping any customer from doing the same thing?”
“That’s a lot less likely.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe you.”
“Relax.” He picked her fork up and handed it to her. “I asked each company rep to sign a confidentiality agreement and fax it back to me. If you look in the file, you’ll find endorsed copies that state they’ve seen a sample and agree not to disclose information about your product to any third party or produce and market any toy that remotely resembles yours in purpose or design.” He took a sip of his wine. “I’m not a lawyer, so I can’t say how well the agreement would hold up in court, but it’s a hell of a lot more protection than you have with your customers. Wouldn’t you say?”
“I guess,” she admitted grudgingly as she shoved her mostly empty plate aside.
“Anyway, to make a long story short, four of the seven companies I talked to had no interest in subcontracting the manufacturing, but two are eager to buy the right to produce your Worry Pals instead.”
“They want me to simply sell them my business?”
“For a hefty sum.” He opened the folder, removed the written offers, and handed them to her.
She stared at the figures on the two proposals, and her mouth dropped open. “I admit these are generous offers, but it doesn’t change the fact you’re once again trying to take over—”
“I’m not, Sammy. Don’t you see? You don’t have to surrender any control unless you choose to. These are simply offers to consider.” He broke off a hunk of the warm bread, buttered it, and bit into it. “Right now,” he mumbled, “you’re working too hard for the amount you’re making.”
“Okay, I’ll grant you that.” She swallowed the remainder of her third glass of wine in a few gulps. “So what happened with the last company?”
“That’s where we hit the jackpot. This afternoon I talked to Happy Tot Incorporated.” He paused a moment for the last bite of his steak. As he finished chewing, he washed it down and continued, “They offered to manufacture and package the toy for three dollars a unit less than it’s costing you in materials and labor now—and that’s paying yourself only minimum wage.”
“So all I’d have to do is deliver them to my customers?”
“That might seem incredible on the surface, but you won’t sell much without a successful marketing campaign, which would cost. Advertising isn’t cheap, and since you’re targeting kids, you’ll need to do it on TV.”
“I certainly can’t afford that, so how do you figure outsourcing is better than accepting one of the other offers?”
“It’s not. I got quotes for outsourcing because I knew you might be resistant to outright selling your idea. The good news is Happy Tot also offered to buy the licensing rights—for one and a half times what the other two companies bid. And they’re also willing to pay you an additional ten percent of the profits on all sales exceeding two hundred thousand units.”
“That’s an awful lot of Worry Pals.”
“Not really, Sammy. There are about forty million kids under the age of ten in this country. Even if only ten out of a hundred wants a Worry Pal, that’s still four million of your critters. Believe me, Happy Tot wouldn’t pay you this much up front if they weren’t confident the toy will earn out at least twice what they’re investing. And if the symbiotic marketing plan I proposed takes off and the toy goes international, it’ll earn ten times as much.”
He handed her their written proposal, and her eyes widened as she studied the string of zeros on Happy Tot’s offer. He took back the contract, replacing it with the comic book their neighbor had created. She slowly flipped through the pages and squealed, “Oh, my gosh! I had no idea Steve was this talented. This is incredible.”
“Happy Tot thought so, too. They also know Steve’s animation would be worthless without your creation. They’re interested in meeting with him to discuss the possibility of him developing a cartoon based on your critters, from which you’d also see a share. And they’re also talking about possible merchandizing deals that would give you additional income.”
“So Happy Tot thinks my Worry Pals can become another kiddy craze?”
“I’m hoping they’ll be so popular a certain kid wizard will seem passé.” Nick grinned. “But I’ll settle for a mini-fad like Beanie Babies.”
“Right.” Sam released a doubtful snort.
“Go ahead and laugh. I’ve already recommended Keith for the position of vice president of subsidiary merchandizing. With his experience in contract negotiation, he could do the job in his sleep. And if he’s paid a draw against a percentage of generated business with quarterly bonuses, he’ll be motivated to cut multiple deals as fast as possible.”
“And if Magic Worry Pals are plastered on children’s clothes and their lunch boxes and back packs, they’re more likely to want a stuffed animal of their own.”
“And vice versa. The company loves the idea of hiring Keith because they can’t lose much if they’re only shelling out for a portion any business he generates.”
She nodded, straightening the papers in the folder. “He would be great at it.”
“I’m also hoping he’ll have the opportunity to create positions for Bill Sutton and Rick Deluca. And if Happy Tot can convince one of the major networks to air the Magic Worry Pal cartoon, Steve, Keith, and you will all make a fortune.”
“The only problem is most of your plans are just pipe dreams.”
“You’re right. But even if none of those plans pan out, you’ll still get nearly half a million dollars and ten percent of the profit on any sales over two hundred thousand units. All for sitting back and doing absolutely nothing but cashing checks.”
“I have to admit getting paid for doing nothing sounds really good.”
“I thought you might like that. So you can either go on killing yourself to earn peanuts, or you can sell your idea for enough to buy me out of this house, like you keep saying you want to. Although, I guess you may not care about the house now that you’re marrying Chase,” he said, gesturing toward her left hand and suddenly noticing her ring finger was naked. “Wait a minute. What happened to the diamond he gave you? Can I hope you called off the engagement?”
“No. At least not yet.” Sam gnawed on her lip a moment. “But I’m thinking about it. A lot of the reason I said yes to his proposal was simply to upset you.”
“I kind of suspected that.” He was glad she’d taken off the doctor’s ring. If things went his way, he wouldn’t feel right sleeping with her while she was wearing it. “I sincerely hope you won’t turn down this amazing offer just to spite me. If your critters sell as well as I believe they will, you’ll have all the independence you’ve always wanted.”
“Okay.” She raised her hands in surrender. “So it’s a no-brainer.”
~*~
Dani danced with Haley in front of the portable stage while Ryan’s rendition of Bon Jovi’s
Livin’ on a Prayer
filled the high school gymnasium. Halfway through the energetic song, she ran out of steam and stopped to sway to the music.
“Why’d you quit dancing?” Haley hollered above the din. “Are you okay?”
“I’m tired.” Dani swallowed, forcing her wince into a smile. “And my throat’s a little sore.”
“Don’t lie. It’s not just a little sore, is it?”
No, it felt as if she’d swallowed a razor blade.
“I’ll be fine,” she said, hoping she spoke the truth—actually praying.
All week she’d been exhausted, and during the last two days her sore throat had grown progressively worse. She didn’t even want to think about what it could mean.
She should’ve told her dad this afternoon, but he would’ve made her stay home, and that was the last thing she’d wanted. If she was falling out of remission, tonight might be her last chance for Ryan to kiss her....and whatever else she could convince him to do.
When the Bon Jovi tune faded, he smiled directly at her and spoke to the audience eagerly awaiting the next selection.
“In the last few days,” he said, “the band has worked overtime learning this next song so I could sing it for my girlfriend tonight.”
“Did you hear that?” Haley bounced on her toes next to her. “He called you his girlfriend!”
He stared at Dani and continued, “Believe it or not, this piece is something her father, Nick Riverá, composed. I hope he doesn’t mind us borrowing it. But it’s about time someone shared his tremendous talent, since he never has.”
Her mouth dropped open as Ryan sang a cappella, “
I have a little secret the whole world seems to know except....heeeer
.” He winked at Dani as Mike, the drummer, held the cymbal and tapped out a metallic rhythm as a lead-in to the up-beat music. “
I’d crawl a thousand miles for one of Dani’s smiles. They always chase my blues away. I want to shout and sing, ‘cause she’s my everything, and sweeter than crème brûlée....”
She couldn’t believe her dad had written such an amazing song about her. The lyrics were a bit lame, but the melody was awesome.
“Go ahead,” Haley yelled to Dani, “now tell me Ryan’s not crazy about you.”
Okay, so he evidently cared as much as she did. More than ever, she wanted to make love with him. She turned to Haley and cupped her hands around her friend’s ear. “When the dance is over, I’m not stayin’ overnight at your house.”
“Where are you goin’? Home?”
“Eventually.” Dani smiled. “Tell your dad I don’t feel well and decided not to stay.”
It wouldn’t be a lie. She and Ryan would simply be stopping for a little while before he took her home.
CHAPTER 14
The string of zeros on the proposals had Sam’s head spinning. Of course, the three glasses of wine with dinner didn’t help. On her own, it would take two lifetimes to make what the toy company was offering.
Evidently her friends at work were right about pride being her downfall. Nick had served her a large portion of financial independence on a silver platter, and the words to thank him stuck in her throat simply because she hated admitting he’d been right. She
did
need his help.
The only motive in his meddling really had been to make things easier for her. If that wasn’t the case, the very last thing he would’ve done was give her a way to pay the bills on her own.
Swallowing hard, she forced herself to verbally acknowledge the unwelcome truth to herself and try to confess to him how wrong and unfair she’d been. However, despite having the best of intentions, she couldn’t quite spit out an apology but, instead, settled for expressing her gratitude.
“Thank you,” she whispered, laying her hand over his on the table. “It might not seem like it, but I really do appreciate what you’ve done.”
The soft strains of Nat King Cole’s
When I Fall In Love
ended on the stereo and a few moments later, Luther Vandross’s deep, rich voice filled the air.
Always and forever—each moment with you....
Nick stood and held his hand out to her. “Dance with me?”
The romantic song never failed to give her goose bumps, and now was no different. Still, she hesitated.
“Please,” he coaxed, looking sexier than any man had a right to in a pair of faded jeans and a snow-white polo shirt.