“That sounds fabulous.”
Crey turns and sets his briefcase on the bar stool, and I can’t help but smile at the fact that he didn’t set it down before he came to me. He removes his coat, lays it over the briefcase, and comes to stand beside me at the stove.
“What are you feeding me, woman?”
“Are you in caveman mode now? See woman, she cook. She must feed man,” I say in my best caveman voice.
“If you want to play that game later, I’ll drag you back to my cave.”
I shake my head, a laugh spilling from my lips. Even in the midst of this shitstorm, we’re laughing and joking. That means something, right? How you limp along during the bad times means so much more than how you glide along during the good ones, right?
“You’re crazy, Crey. And I love that about you.”
He leans down and this time, sweeps my hair aside and brushes kisses along my neck. I try to swallow back the moan, but it escapes anyway. Even so, reality intrudes.
“Baby, I’ve got hot oil on the stove. You need to let me finish frying the chicken, and then we can pick this up.”
He growls—growls—before backing away. “You already open a bottle of wine?”
“Nope. Left that to you. I’d probably pick something that clashed horribly with the masterpiece we’re about to eat.”
“You realize I don’t give a shit if you picked the wrong wine, don’t you?”
“I know, but still. I didn’t want to start drinking without you. Your wine is the good stuff, so I probably would’ve had one glass, and it would’ve been so delicious that I would’ve needed another glass. And maybe another. Especially after this disaster of a day. And then you would’ve come home to burned-to-crap fried chicken, hard-as-a-brick cornbread, sloppy baked beans, squishy broccoli, and flambéed cherry cobbler.”
Crey pauses in his reach into the wine fridge. “You made all that?”
“Uh-huh. And it’s going to be fabulous.”
“Well, damn. I don’t even know what to say to that.”
“You don’t have to say anything. Just eat it. And then me. After.”
I snap my mouth shut. I can’t believe I just said that. Wait—yes, I can.
Crey lifts the bottle of wine from its rack and closes the door. “Oh, baby, you feeling neglected? Because I’ll eat that sweet pussy of yours for days.”
A shiver of awareness shoots through me. “Days aren’t really necessary. I’d settle for a really vigorous hour.”
Crey’s grin should qualify him as the sexiest man alive. Those sharp cheekbones, dark eyes, and his square jaw, every feature is beautifully accentuated by his smile.
“Damn. You are one sexy son of a bitch. You know that, right?”
If possible, his grin widens. “Well, if I didn’t, I do now.”
“I’m suddenly not very hungry.”
The grin morphs into a lazy smile. “Patience, baby. Patience. Besides, a man only gets to eat like this once in a while, and I’m not missing out on my shot. But I think dessert can wait until after.”
“Deal. Let’s eat. Fast.”
There are so many things we need to talk about, but I decide they can wait until morning. Tonight, I just want to revel in the good, and pretend none of the bad exists. It’ll all be waiting for us in the morning.
But tonight . . . tonight we only get once. I’m not going to waste it.
At noon the following day, I stand on a podium, the Karas International Inc. logo emblazoned on nearly every surface in the huge auditorium. The room is filled to capacity; it’s standing room only. There’s nothing like gossip to bring every interested body out in droves.
But today, they’re not going to get gossip. Today, they’re going to get the truth.
“Welcome to Karas International’s Annual Investor Day. As chairman of the board and chief executive officer, it’s my pleasure to welcome you. I’d like to open with a statement that will address what I’m sure is a matter many of you have come seeking answers about—the purchase of Homegrown Records by an independent entity owned by me personally, which prompted a lawsuit filed by a shareholder on behalf of Karas International. The suit alleges that as a company executive and member of its board, this purchase breaches my duty of loyalty both to the company and to you, its shareholders.”
A few whispers start in the audience, and I can tell it’s because no one expected me to confront this issue head-on. Which amuses me, because I’m Creighton fucking Karas. Head-on is what I do.
“I’d like to be the first to tell you that the allegations contained in that suit are complete and utter bullshit. The purchase of Homegrown was not in any way made to usurp an opportunity that would have been appropriate to our company’s current or contemplated business portfolio, nor would it have been beneficial to Karas International. For the record, Homegrown has already cost me over thirty million dollars of capital infusion just to keep the damn thing running.”
The whispers in the audience begin to grow in volume, which annoys me. “If you’ll hold your comments until the end, I’ll take your questions until you don’t have any more. But I’d appreciate your courtesy so I can finish my statement.”
A hush instantly falls over the room, and I continue.
“However, I will agree that the proper procedure to avoid any hint of impropriety and to forestall any grounds for the allegations supporting the suit would have been to have the independent members of the board of directors vote on the transaction. I’m sure you’re wondering why I didn’t go that route, and I only have one answer for you. Have you ever been so absolutely in love that you’ve stopped thinking about practicalities entirely?”