Did he say his last name is Grafton? My turn to look closely at him. My first boyfriend—we’re talking age fifteen here—was Charlie Grafton. Not an unusual last name, though, right?

His question is easy, really. I answer, he thanks me, no one else has a question.

I signal Carrie to lower the room lights. Showtime.

“O is never ordinary,” I begin. “We’ve created another O for you, and I think it’s our most exciting space yet.” The faces around the table are mildly surprised, not expecting anything else from me.

I click a button to lower the screen and another to start the slideshow.

“This is our first gO Spa.” I flash to a picture of a full-size RV. “This vehicle could be the beginning of a fleet. In every city where O has a presence, the gO Spa can go beyond the physical location. The gO Spa can be booked for private parties and weddings. It can travel to concert venues and theaters for services to big-name performers.”

The next slide is an interior view of the gO Spa. Three small showers. A bank of four hair washing and styling stations. Small closets filled with curated professional clothing.

“But it has another important purpose. The gO Spa is how O will give back to the communities that have welcomed us and made our success possible. A way to demonstrate our commitment to the idea that peace and pleasure are vital to everyone.”

Nick Grafton is giving me his full attention. I like it. I could get used to it.

“In inner cities, classes in self-care and stress management can be offered to high school seniors, or new mothers. Mini spa services could be provided for a reduced fee, or even on a complimentary basis in areas of need.”

I’ve been keeping one eye on Andrew McCormick, but I can’t read his face.

“And we have already implemented a pilot project in Cambridge with homeless teens. I have personally gone on weekly ventures for the past five months. The PR coverage has been extraordinary.” I nod at the report I’ve handed each of them. “Metrics are are laid out in there.”

Silence around the table. Although I imagine I hear gears shifting in fourteen brains.

“Metrics aside,” I add, “This outreach project changes lives. I’ve seen it.” My voice grows passionate. “The women and girls who show up at gO have dreams and aspirations of a better life. They know it’s out there, but they have no idea how to get to it. O can show them. It’s O’s mission to empower women. I take that mission very, very seriously.”

I don’t mention meeting Li on my first gO Spa homeless trip. I don’t mention how she cried in my arms after her shower, hair cut, facial and mani-pedi. I don’t mention how on my second trip she told me she was pregnant, and how our on-site social worker helped her get medical care and government assistance.

I definitely don’t mention how she asked me to adopt her baby.

None of those details matter in a conference room.

This is all about money. Not mercy.

But money allows for more merciful acts.

Reaching down, I pull out a soft grey t-shirt with orange letters that read “you gO girl.”

“Every visitor to gO Spa receives one of these.”

A bald man at the end of the table clears his throat. “This is a big investment,” he begins, but Amanda jumps in.

“The PR from this would be worth a fortune,” she says excitedly. “It would pay for itself.”

Already has, I think to myself.

And gO Spa has already helped one special young girl find a way out of trouble.

Already helped a new baby find a secure life.

And helped my greatest dream come true.

Nick nods slowly, brow knit in concentration. Those arctic eyes meet mine and he asks, “How does this mobile RV spa fit in with brand expansion? Seems risky. Doing well by doing good is a great concept, but I want to know how this ties in with deeper corporate identity issues.”

And suddenly, Nick Grafton just flipped every switch inside me.

He’s a handsome guy. I wonder if he ever smiles.

Chapter 5

Nick

It takes everything in me not to smile at her.

Everything.

She’s a pro. Sophisticated and smooth, gracious and composed, well-versed and well-informed. Chloe Browne moves with a confidence that gives the air in this stuffy conference room an erotic charge. Her dark hair, so smooth it must be soft. A body that doesn’t quit. Those brown eyes—tilted slightly, yet paradoxically round. Alert and intelligent, they take in the room.

I’m watching her. It’s my job to watch her.

And she’s watching me.

Days like this make me love my job.

Her mouth stretches with a delighted precision, as if she were waiting for someone to ask my question. Electricity shoots through me. She’s four steps ahead of the rest of us, a chess player who thinks in dimensions, not boards.

One corner of my mouth rebels and rises.

“A great question, Nick.” Her lips part slightly. The tip of her tongue slowly touches the edge of her top teeth. Then she gives me a sultry half-grin and says, “Integrating new positions into our body has been so exciting.”

I did not imagine that.

Chloe’s flushes. “I mean, integrating new locations into our body of work has been exciting.” She clears her throat, squares her shoulders, and continues. “New Orleans is the prototype. O’s brand ties in to Anterdec’s brand as a luxury option for insiders. People in the know.”

“Your maiden voyage.” Not smiling is impossible.

Her lip curls up, a mirror image of my own. “This is virgin territory, yes.”

Andrew McCormick’s eyebrow shoots up as Amanda Warrick’s face goes deceptively blank.

“Love the innuendo. Fits nicely with the sensual branding that O cultivates,” Andrew says, his words snapping like the sound of buttons on a tailored woman’s shirt popping off, as I tear it open in the throes of passion.

Or something like that.

“The Big Easy.” Chloe lets that hang in the air, her eyes opening just slightly, then narrowing.

We’re playing a game. I don’t know the rules, but I sure do like handling the pieces.

“How easy?”

Andrew happens to be drinking from his coffee cup as Amanda asks that question, his throat spasming with the kind of hacking that provokes a sympathetic wince from the rest of us.