Thirty minutes later, they sat silently in the parking lot of Shaggy’s Burgers and Tacos, soft jazz playing in the background. Kenya munched on her fries, a mix of white and sweet potato. She swallowed and took a long sip of her Arnold Palmer.
“So, have you always been a doctor?”
“I don’t know how to answer that question when technically doctors don’t start until after college.”
“Okay, let me rephrase this. How do you know this person?” She pulled up a screenshot of a social media post on her phone.
Solomon coughed after taking a swig of his own drink and hacked a few more times before he could answer. She sure could give a person whiplash.
Kenya stared at him, waiting for him to respond.
“Kind of a nosy question, don’t you think?”
The exasperation on her face was adorable. He wasn’t sure he deserved that level of intensity, but it was fun to behold. “Dr. Solomon, are you not aware that when someone tags you in a post and asks you to collaborate on said post, if you accept it, that post then shows up on your page? This person in the middle tagged you at an event. How are you connected to him?” She tapped the man in blue.
It had been several years since he’d seen Robert Bluestone. That had been when he’d been more intentional about following the career path his parents tried to set for him.
“Why do you care?” Solomon took a bite of his pocket taco. Nowthishad flavor.
“Because if you want me to move forward with what you asked me to do, I need you to answer my question.”
Solomon took a drink of his bottled water before responding. “You could say that this person is an associate of mine that I know through my family.” He wanted to tell her that he didn’t want to be a hypocrite and therefore didn’t need her to go through with his silly request. He stole a glance at her profile as she chewed on some more fries. Her expression was so wistful. Hopeful, even. He would follow her line of questioning first to see where it ended.
“How did you get connected from your role as a doctor?”
“Kenya, we are all more than what we do.”
“Okay. Would you say that you have consistent or at least occasional communication with this person?”
He laughed out loud. “I have no idea where this is going, but it’s kind of fun.”
Kenya pressed her palms together. It didn’t seem like she was one to get easily frustrated, but he could tell she needed to get this out, in her way. “Here’s the deal. If you can get me a meeting or at least connected to Mr. Bluestone, you may very well save my life.”
Her eyes were puppy-level large, with curly lashes adding to the allure.
“That sounds dramatic.”
“Didn’t I tell you that my veins pulse with drama? This person is part of an organization that I desperately need to pull into an upcoming event. The potential clients I have messed up with twice have Huntsville at the top of their list to host an event. They are willing to give us another chance before they move on.”
“That’s great.” Solomon polished off his taco and wiped his mouth with a napkin.
“That’s very proper of you,” she said. “Anyway, they want me to pull in a big vendor for their convention. I just know that if I can present them with a company like Blue Horizon, that will not only save my job but my promotion. Other companies will want to be a part of it, just from their buy-in alone. And it will bring a lot of income into my favorite town.”
Solomon stared at her. Impressively, she didn’t blink. Just stared back, waiting.
“So.” He pulled his gaze away from her and looked out the window. How the tables had turned. “What you’re saying is that youwillfake date me.”
“No, I will not fake date you.”
He gulped. Tables turnedreallyquick with her.
“But Iwillgo on a follow-up date with you that lasts until you can get me a meeting with Robert Bluestone.”
With a nod of finality, she turned to face him. He shifted his position to follow suit. Was it the intensity of her gaze in her pretty face or the way she exuded complete confidence that made him lean in?
“Let’s shake on it.” She stuck out her hand, triggering a memory of his conversation with Ben just a few days ago. But this handshake was different. His hand engulfed her small one. Her pulse beating actively against his fingers, the curve of her manicured nails brushing against his palm. Her nervous smile gave way toa playful glint in her eye. They shook, and she pulled her hand away from his. But not quickly enough to pull his thoughts away from the implications of their agreement ... and the lines of her profile as she fiddled with the container on her lap. The distracting face of a woman who could undo him in the best or worst way if he wasn’t careful.
13
