"All right, all right!"
"And don't take three hours in the bathroom," Mike added. "I don't know why it takes you so long."
"Come on, Hazel," I said, ushering her away from my family. "These people don't understand the creative process. It takes time to look this good."
"This is an amazing house," Hazel gushed as I led her through. She took in the wide hallways, the priceless antiques, and the paintings on the walls of long-dead Harrogates.
"Just a few ghosts of billionaires past," I said as we walked past one particularly creepy painting of a thin woman flanked by her two twin daughters.
I showed Hazel to one of the guest bathrooms.
"I am dying of envy right now," she said, slowly walking into the large marble-clad room. For a moment I wondered if she would invite me in. I wanted to push her up against the cabinet and fuck her and listen to her moan in my ear. But I wasn't sure exactly how she felt about last night.
You need to win this convention center, I chanted to myself.
"I'm down the hall," I said, walking out of the guest bathroom. "But I'll meet you downstairs."
As I showered, I tried not to think about how it had felt to be inside of Hazel.
You need to focus on winning the factory site, I told myself. Normally I wasn't this affected by a woman. I was very good at compartmentalizing my night pursuits versus my business. But Hazel was bleeding into everything.
"It's just because she's doing work for you," I told myself. Normally I had strict rules about fraternizing with anyone who could be construed as an employee. I didn't want a lawsuit. But Hazel was different; she broke down all my defenses.
I stood in front of my closet, trying to decide what to wear.What would Hazel want to see me in?I mused. I settled on charcoal-gray pants, a white shirt with some sheen, and single-button suit jacket with a green silk pocket square I was sure Hazel would like.
Someone knocked on the bedroom door, and Hazel poked her head into the bathroom.
"You're not even dressed," she said.
"I have on underwear," I countered, circling my arms around her. She was wearing a pencil skirt and a sleeveless shirt with a pussy bow that emphasized the swell of her breasts. Her hair was pulled back into a low bun, and I longed to take it out and bury my hands in it.
"We're going to be late," Hazel said.
I turned back to the mirror. She watched me as I fixed my hair.
"How do you get it to do that?" she asked.
"The trick is to blow dry it when damp," I said, combing it back with my fingers. "Then I use this magic hair product I had my annoying chemical engineer brother develop for me."
"Mace?"
"No, I actually have a number of weirdo engineers in my family. Parker made it. I had to resort to extortion, but it was worth it." I bent over so that gravity would pull my hair forward and swiped in the paste, back to front. I stood back up and adjusted my hair. I was gratified to see Hazel's eyes quickly flick up to the ceiling. Someone was admiring the view. "That's pretty much it, really. It helps to have hair that grows in long and thick. It also helps to have naturally great highlights." I blew myself a kiss in the mirror.
"That is incredibly narcissistic," Hazel said.
* * *
When we walkedinto the auditorium in the town hall, Harrington's team was setting up.
I was pleased to see Hazel's rendering was a thousand times better than what the Harringtons had. Theirs was some sort of watercolor and ink-pen illustration. It was fine, but Hazel's painting had light, depth, and evoked emotion.
Greg was wearing his professional face. Hunter stood beside him and studiously ignored Meghan. I greeted Meg, Amos, and the mayor.
"You have ten minutes," Mayor Barry said. "I have golf in an hour and a half."
Harrington presented first. Their vision sounded corporate. It was the same thing I saw at warehouse redevelopments around the country. I bet it was a rehash of what they had presented the last time, because Amos didn't look all that pleased.
"And now for Svensson Investment," Meg said.
