Boardroom Seduction. Anita Bunkley
it could give a woman a toothache!” Ariana exclaimed with a giggle as she flicked her long fingers in the air toward Kacey.
Kacey laughed along with her coworker, shaking her head. “I don’t plan to inflict any pain—only pleasure.”
“I don’t know. That black satin thong looked like it could put a hurting on some very tender spots.”
“Please,” Kacey shot back with a grin. “You know you’re dying to wear it. In fact, I’m gonna send you the first manufacturer sample of that style as soon as it comes out of production. Size 8, right?” Kacey lifted a brow in question, her grin widening as she watched Ariana.
“Size 6, honey,” Ariana corrected with a downward tilt of her head and a sweep of one hand over her flat stomach. “I’ve been hitting the gym with Tony.”
“And it shows,” Kacey finished, giving Ariana the compliment she’d been fishing for.
“Anyway, about SunKissed,” Ariana went on. “I stopped by to tell you that Hadley wants me to get started on the marketing plan.”
“Sounds good,” Kacey replied.
“My thought is this. We position Leeman’s as the first shopping stop that women must make before taking off on their next trip to the beach, to the pool or wherever the sun might take them. There’s a swimsuit out there for every woman…”
“But finding the right one can take a whole lot of time,” Kacey finished.
“Exactly. Shopping for swimwear can be a traumatic experience, but the eight styles offered through SunKissed by Kacey make it a snap. I’m thinking our slogan could be ‘Why Shop Anywhere Else?’”
“Why indeed?” Kacey agreed. “I love it! The bikinis, monokinis, full-coverage one-piece suits and two-piece styles offer multiple choices, especially since you can mix and match the bottoms and the tops.”
A vigorous nod of assent from Ariana. “Your styles flatter all types of figures, and they’re done in such luscious fabrics,” she praised. “Archer Industries had better do a good job for us.”
“For real. What do you know about the company?” Kacey asked, curious about where she was headed tomorrow and how she would get along with the owner.
“Only that it’s a family-owned factory…. employs most of the residents in Rockport. And in those parts…the Archer name has clout.”
“Have you ever met Mr. Archer?”
Ariana shook her head. “No, but I’ve had more than a few conversations with him. He’s a tough old bird who runs his factory with an iron fist. All about business. No warm fuzzies there.”
“Gee, thanks for the warning,” Kacey said, screwing up one side of her mouth. “Sounds like I’m in for a real test of wills—and skills.”
“Well, don’t worry too much,” Ariana replied. “As long as you show up prepared to work long hours and take orders from a persnickety old man who really can run circles around his younger employees, you’ll do fine.”
“I’d better,” Kacey murmured, beginning to feel the pressure of what she’d gotten herself into. Launching this line was a huge responsibility, and success depended on one thing: the perfect execution of her designs. Would Archer Industries deliver? Was she ready to place her future in the hands of a grumpy old man with no heart who couldn’t possibly know what women want? He may not know, but I do, Kacey affirmed, determined to gain control of the process once she arrived in Rockport.
Chapter 3
Leon Archer Jr. drove his red Corvette convertible up the semicircular driveway that swept the front of his father’s house and parked directly at the front door. Sitting back in his seat, he slid one hand over the smooth steering wheel and studied the black sedan already parked in the drive, the car that belonged to Gerald Ayers, his father’s lawyer. What was going on? Why had his father summoned him to the house?
Leon had been a bit surprised when he arrived at the factory and had seen his father’s parking spot empty. During all the years that Leon had worked at Archer Industries alongside his father, Leon Sr. had never failed to come to work by 6:00 a.m., making sure he arrived before his son or any of his employees reported for duty.
Now, curious about why his dad was still at home, Leon turned his attention to the exterior of the hacienda-style mansion that his dad and mom had built nearly forty years ago. It had twenty rooms, seven bathrooms, an Olympic-size pool, a tennis court and a newly installed outdoor kitchen that rivaled anything shown on the home and garden shows that his mother loved to watch on television. The red tile roof sloped low over a center courtyard where exotic tropical flowers bloomed year-round. In fact, Leon Archer Sr.’s home had been featured in the prestigious Southwest Homes magazine, and continued to serve as the gathering spot for many Archer Industries company parties over the years. Since a good portion of Rockport residents either worked for Archer Industries or had a family member who did, most of the townsfolk had been hosted in the Archer home at one time or another.
Leon exited his car, slammed the door and strode up the flower-lined walkway. After letting himself in, Leon went directly to his father’s study where the elder man was seated behind his walnut claw-foot desk, an unlit cigar stuck into the corner of his mouth. The sight made Leon smile…his mother had banned cigar smoking in the house long ago, but that didn’t stop his old man from keeping up the appearance of enjoying a good smoke, especially when he was working at home.
“Hello, Dad. Hi, Gerald,” Leon said as he greeted his father and the attorney who had handled Archer Industries’ business for as long as Leon could remember. After a quick handshake with Gerald and a nod at his father, Leon sat down in the deep wingchair across from the huge, messy desk where Leon Sr. was busy signing papers that Gerald was handing to him.
“What’s up? You doing okay?” Leon asked tentatively. Though his dad was seventy-four years old, and had never experienced any major health problems, Leon hoped his father’s good luck had not taken an unexpected turn for the worse.
“Of course I’m okay,” Leon Sr. shot back in a gruff voice, not looking up at his son. He placed another flourishing signature on a document and then muttered, “Why’d you ask something like that? Do I look sick to you?”
“No, no. Just wondering. When you didn’t show up at the plant this morning, I got a little worried.”
“No need,” his father tossed out in a cavalier manner, now setting his pen aside. “I’m fine. In fact, I’m better than I’ve ever been, and God willing, I plan to stay that way for a long, long time.”
“All right,” Leon conceded, relieved by his father’s bantering in his usually gruff voice. “So why are we here and not at work at the factory? There’s a lot going on at the plant today. Three big orders came in last night and the Wilton shipment has to go out by noon.”
“I know, I know,” Leon Sr. acknowledged with a wave of one hand. “It’ll all get done…don’t worry. Nona’s there, right?”
“Hey, you know she is. When I left yesterday, Nona was still on the phone arguing with FedEx over that package of samples from Seattle that got lost. I told her it could wait until today and for her to go home. She refused, so I left. Sometimes I think she takes her job way too seriously.”
“Tell me about it,” Leon Sr. agreed. He stopped what he was doing and pointed his cigar at his son. “She’s a hard worker and great friend to all of us, but that woman needs a life. Other than her life at Archer, that is.”
“Harrumph,” Leon agreed with a shrug. “That’s the truth.”
“Well, you’re the best person to handle her, I’m sure. She always does whatever you ask.”
“Not always, but most of the time,” Leon replied with a shake of his head, as if resigned to the fact that he had no choice but to tolerate the antics of his most trusted, but