Kiss Me Twice

“I’m here to see Bastien Thibeadaux at CT Inspectorate.” The guard recorded her license number on a clipboard and walked around the SUV to list the make and model.

“Have a nice day.” He waved her on. She veered left, toward the signs indicating visitor parking. Parking spots were reserved for the CFO and COO. A third sign was planted in front of a parking space that was twice as large as the other two spaces combined. The sign was white, trimmed in red and black with the letters G-PAW.

G-paw? What kind of a company position is that? There were a few other parking signs, a couple of marked spots for disabled employees or visitors. There were also some signs designated for short-term parking—only thirty minutes. The others seemed to be free and open to anyone. Phaedra pulled past the spot she wanted and then shifted the car into reverse to back into the spot.

She collected her briefcase from behind the passenger seat and one more item that she’d remembered to bring along—the college annual of her junior year. If she had any doubts before who Bastien was, they were erased the moment her eyes landed on his pictures in the annual. He was that boy. She’d looked up each reference to his name, marking every page. Phaedra also double-checked that there were no pictures of her in that slinky leopard costume. For this meeting, she wanted him to take her seriously. He wasn’t going to do it if he was too distracted by thinking of her as she was back then. Since he didn’t seem to remember her, she would continue with the meeting as if they’d just met for the first time today. First impression, fresh impression.

She climbed out of the car and slipped the keys into her jacket pocket. One last time check. Perfect timing! She’d made it with one minute to spare. As Phaedra pushed open one side of the double doors, a rush of cool air and music playing softly over the public address system greeted her.

Directly in front of her was a large, curved reception desk. The desk was black and sleek with a genuine gray-and-brown speckled marble counter. She approached the desk, smiling at the receptionist. A woman with blond hair pulled back into a cascading ponytail sat, elbows planted on the desk, face propped up on her fists. She licked her thumb and turned the page of a fashion magazine.

“Good afternoon.” Phaedra greeted and pulled the sign-in book toward her. “I’m here to see Bastien Thibeadaux.” In neat, block letters, she printed her name, the time of arrival and the person she’d come to meet. Her eyes scanned down the page, noting the number of other visitors, their arrival and departure times.

“Yes, ma’am. He’s expecting you. Can I see your ID please?”

The receptionist took and scanned the ID. Seconds later, Phaedra’s information appeared on the computer monitor. A printer whined and spat out a label with Phaedra’s image and name on it. Visitor and Escort Required was stamped across the bottom.

“Here you go, Ms. Burke-Carter. Just attach it to your jacket.”

Phaedra affixed the label below her right shoulder.

“If you’ll just have a seat, Mr. Thibeadaux will be right with you. Can I offer you something while you wait? Coffee? Soda? Help yourself. It’s right over there.” The receptionist pointed with her pen at a small glass table across the room holding a coffee bar and baskets of assorted snacks.

“No thank you.” Phaedra always refused the initial offer of a beverage. Fumbling around with coffee cups or soda cans could get awkward during first meetings. Bypassing the snack bar, she took a seat.

The seats in the reception room were made of chrome and gray vinyl, matching the gray flecks in the reception desk countertop. They were deeply padded and comfortable, with high round backs and curved arms. After she sat down, she expected Bastien to come through another set of double doors to the right of the reception desk. Two minutes ticked by. Three. She was on time. He was now the one officially late.

Phaedra’s eyes drifted to the selection of magazines on the table beside her. She selected one, not really interested in reading any of the articles, but wanting to find something to do with her hands while she waited.

Ten more minutes passed before she loudly shuffled the magazine, a not-so-subtle hint that she was still waiting.

“I just paged Mr. Thibeadaux,” the receptionist assured her. “He’s on his way.”

Just as Phaedra was glancing at her watch and comparing it to the decorative row of wall clocks indicating the time in various cities, the side doors swung open and Bastien Thibeadaux walked through the door.

No, not walked through, he stormed through like a force of nature. When Bastien Thibeadaux shoved open the double doors, it made Phaedra jump. The resounding echo as the doors flung open reminded her of thunder.

Phaedra looked up from the magazine, meeting Bastien’s gaze from across the room. It took her less than a second to collect herself. In that time, she took him in from the top of his closely cropped, but wavy hair all the way down to his steel-toed work boots. Lightning flashed in her mind, and when it faded, left a single, smoking word burned into her brain. Trouble. This man was trouble. He spelled trouble all those years ago for her in school, and he was going to be trouble for her now. She knew that as assuredly as she knew his name. Thibeadaux. Trouble. The two were inextricably linked.

The dark blue coverall he wore was not meant for fashion but function. The long sleeves were rolled up, showing off the fraternity tattoo in the shape of the Greek alphabet symbol omega. The tattoo did its job. It showed off his pride and commitment to his fraternity and had the added bonus of accenting well-muscled arms.

He hadn’t exaggerated when he said the work was physical. You couldn’t get cut biceps and triceps like that just managing workers. Bastien stood around six foot two or six foot three. Yet, he seemed taller to Phaedra because she hadn’t stood up yet to greet him. She was afraid to.

She’d read in novels or seen romantic comedies of people going weak in the knees, but she’d always thought that was a ridiculous exaggeration. It didn’t happen in real life. Certainly not to her. She wasn’t the type of woman who was swayed by physical appearances. She wasn’t that shallow. Not anymore. Since graduating from college—and her one lapse of judgment at that homecoming party—she’d learned a valuable lesson: forming emotional attachments based purely on physical appearances didn’t work out. At least, not for her.

Yet, there she was, sitting in that chair, staring up at the man with skin like sweet golden honey, looking into wide hazel eyes and seriously wondering what it would take to get him to remember her. What would she have to do to get him thinking about her, looking at her the way he did back then—with deliberate attention and single-mindedness of purpose?

Get a grip on yourself, Phaedra! This man is a client.

This man was big trouble. It only took him a moment to cross the room with his long-legged strides before Phaedra came to another snap decision. This was one potential client she was going to drop like a hot rock. Forget all the time she’d already sunk into preparing for this meeting. If she had any real sense, she should end the meeting right here, right now. What made her believe she could face him after all this time and not let it affect her reason?

Phaedra’s mind scrambled to find a reasonable excuse for why she’d suddenly have to leave. A mix-up in her schedule. An emergency call from the office. Yes, that sounded plausible. Anything sounded better than telling him that she had serious doubts about her ability to keep business on her mind while he was around. She’d just have to apologize for wasting his time. But she’d only do it from the relative safety of her car, call him from her cell phone as she was burning rubber out of the parking lot.

“Ms. Burke-Carter.” Bastien approached her, holding out his hand in greeting. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

His voice had the same sexy Southern quality as she remembered from their phone conversation. Same, yet different, if she could at all explain it. There was no distraction of coffee shop chatter this time or the rumble of railcars passing by her to mute the effects of Bastien’s speech. Now she had the full effect of his voice directed at her.

Unprotected, unshielded, Phaedra felt caught in a maelstrom as vivid memories and raw emotions that she thought she’d long buried swirled inside her. Fifteen years was a long time to forget. Not long enough, apparently. It was unsettling, this uncontrollable urge to run for cover. Phaedra wasn’t used to feeling this way. She wasn’t sure if she liked it. At the same time, she found herself wishing that she could indulge in it more. She had to do something to get her wits about her. What could she do to stall for time?