If I Had You Page 2

  Her résumé had everything he needed for a PR specialist. His notes in the margin underscored what impressed him. He’d already interviewed the two other candidates. None could compare to Sanford. The job was practically hers. However, he had no reason to share this information.

  They were both new business owners. He imagined that his tight budget would be offset by her need for business. More so, he wanted someone hungry and passionate. Time wasn’t on his side. He had to get things rolling for his newly signed group, All For One.

  “Brent, snap out of it. You’re supposed to help me hang these curtains.”

  Brent looked up at Fontana, his sister, who was perched on the step ladder with her hand on her hip. Her frown merely brought a smile to his lips, which earned a harsher glare.

  “If you’re not going to help, then go home.” She climbed down the small ladder and marched across the room toward him. She might be on the petite side, with her head barely hitting his shoulder, but she came equipped with a powerful temper. “Do you want the creepy man from across the street to stare at me?”

  “What creepy man?” Brent stepped around her and headed for the window, peering out into the night. The apartments formed a U-shape, which allowed neighbors to spy on each other.

  “Up there.” Fontana pointed at a window that was shuttered. “Sometimes, he watches. Once I waved, but he didn’t respond.” She nervously adjusted her bangs.

  “Did you tell management?” Brent noted the location of the apartment.

  “No.” Fontana shrugged. “I felt kind of stupid because he’s not rude or anything. Just doesn’t respond.”

  “Hmm.” Brent looked at his watch. It was a bit late to knock at the door. “I’ll be back in the morning. In the meantime, keep your door locked.” He promptly climbed the ladder and installed the curtain.

  “Now if I knew that playing my protector would’ve motivated you to complete the project, I would’ve tried that much sooner.”

  “Were you kidding me?”

  “No. There is a man across the way that sits at the window.” She handed him his jacket. “He’s blind, though.”

  “Fontana, you’re unbelievable.”

  “Whatever. You love me.” She grinned.

  Brent didn’t deny the statement, although he wanted to wring her neck. Fontana was the youngest of his siblings and also the closest to him. Outside the immediate family, they had a long line of uncles, aunts and cousins that kept them busy at the obligatory family reunions and celebrations. Only within the past year had he started putting in an appearance at those family gatherings.

  Two years ago, his wife’s death had shattered his entire world. His grief swallowed everything in its path, seemingly without an end. He viewed everything around him with anger, pushing aside his family—especially his older brother.

  Fontana tried logic. His pain seared deep within every part of him, making it difficult to listen to her counsel. Together with his mother’s constant and sometimes brutal nagging, they’d managed to insert a crack into the wall he’d erected against the world.

  He’d argued with Marjorie before she headed out for that late-night drive. An idiot with three DUIs on his driving record, combined with the worst possible timing, plucked his wife from his life.

  The seedling of the idea to start an entertainment agency had been hers. Quitting would be giving up on her contribution. At times, forging ahead alone left him feeling adrift—with nothing and no one to anchor him.

  “Good luck tomorrow. Let me know how it goes.” Fontana kissed his cheek.

  “Thank you, sis.”

  “You can always go back to law. Go back to pulling in tons of cash without all this drama.”

  “And you can always go back to college and get your degree,” he remarked over his shoulder in the hallway.

  Her front door clicked shut. Brent chuckled. They had butted heads over her early withdrawal from Boston University. None of his lessons on life moved her to change her mind. She wanted to pursue her acting career, and that was all she cared to do.

  Yet he couldn’t pretend not to understand her passion to pursue a dream. Look at him. He’d left a robust legal career to start his own entertainment agency. Managing the careers of various up-and-coming artists in the past year had solidified his determination to pursue this calling. His legal background served as an added bonus to his clients.

  Although he had a strong, young team working in his agency, there was a missing component. No overhead existed for a robust public relations unit. After a few more years under his belt, the business could expand to have an in-house section. Right now, contracting out that portion of the business made sense.

  The exercise of picking the right company caused him heartburn. Many of the potential firms didn’t impress him or didn’t gel with his vision for the latest R & B group he’d signed.

  He really hoped that he didn’t act too rashly over Charisse Sanford. Being desperate might cause him to be impulsive, but time was running out. He needed results from a solid public relations plan, as soon as possible. The label execs wanted to see numbers and not hear any excuses.

  By midnight, the upcoming meeting remained on his mind. He rolled over, fluffed his pillows under his head and tried desperately to fall asleep.

  “Charisse Sanford, I hope there’s something substantive behind that sexy voice.”

  He shut his eyes, praying for good things to happen the next day.

  Chapter 2

  Charisse hovered in front of the Cuban restaurant, a tad unsure whether she should wait inside or meet Brent Thatcher outside. She didn’t want to look eager, or as if she’d been stood up by her date. A quick glance at her reflection reassured her that she hadn’t gone too evening dress with her attire.

  The spring evening carried a slight cool edge. At least the weeklong streak of rain showers had ended last night. The city appeared clean and shiny, with a variety of muted and harsh lights from the various buildings spilling onto the sidewalks.

  Charisse looked down at her black Betsey Johnson pumps. She deliberately chose the three-inch heels for that vertical boost. The rest of her outfit belonged in the high-end side of her closet. Her small selection of clothes had been handpicked to impress and elicit the right reaction to whatever she requested. Tonight’s request was to be hired on the spot.

  She absorbed the power from her straight cut, off-black Yves Saint Laurent pantsuit. Minimal embellishments and simple lines suited her style. Against the dark color, she wore a softly draped Donna Karan silk blouse with a hint of pink. Layered faux pearl necklaces with matching earrings and a bracelet from her favorite outlet store completed the ensemble. Her fingers were crossed that her investment had merit.

  “Please do not let this be a no-show,” Charisse muttered under her breath. Luisa had already assured her that no one had entered the restaurant asking for her.

  Taxis pulled up and deposited their passengers. No one looked as if they were waiting for someone. She glanced at her watch, inwardly groaning that it was only five minutes past the hour. A black town car slowed and stopped at the curb, not an unusual sight in the city. Yet she kept her eye on the driver who emerged and walked around to open the rear passenger door.

  Standing a head taller than the driver, the passenger stepped onto the sidewalk, adjusting his clothes. He’d be considered casually dressed against the starched uniformed driver and sparkling black sedan. But then again, the sight of an underdressed celebrity or businessman in the city wasn’t rare.

  The man glanced at his watch and then looked at the entrance of the restaurant. His gaze swept over and paused. Should she approach him? Before her mind and body collaborated, he headed her way.

  Only a few feet separated him from her. In that short distance, she took in the confident, smo
oth gait that had a decided swagger. Each step had purpose to match the determined look of its owner. Up close, she noted the tailored silhouette of his pants, the matching black collared shirt. His physique was toned under the tailored clothing.

  Nerves tingled.

  Their eyes locked. She didn’t move as he planted himself squarely in front of her.

  With a subtle raise of his eyebrow, an upward tilt at the corner of his mouth, his hand extended toward her. “Charisse Sanford?”

  “That would be me.” Even in person, his husky tone melted over and through her. She shook his hand, trying to focus on the mouth that produced such a sexy voice.

  “Brent Thatcher. Good to meet you.”

  “Call me Charisse.” She disengaged her hand and headed to the restaurant’s entrance. “Shall we?” She stepped aside for him to enter. Glad to see that he wasn’t bothered by her holding the door for him.

  He nodded and proceeded ahead but then stopped.

  “Is something wrong?” Charisse asked. She stepped to his side for a better view of what caused such a reaction.

  “I can tell that I’m going to like this place. Food smells good.” He sniffed the air, and a slow smile spread across his face, lightening the mood. “I’m starved. A good meal is always the start of a great business relationship.”

  Charisse responded with a smile, grateful for the way he eased the tension. Right now she felt like she was taking a colleague out to dinner, rather than facing a critical job interview.

  Could he look more handsome? The man was both suave and downright gorgeous. Her penchant for a man’s mouth and eyes was already putting her in danger of being caught staring.

  Thankfully, Luisa stepped up and greeted them.

  “Welcome to Luisa’s Cuban Cuisine. Señorita Sanford, always a pleasure to have you here.”

  “Thank you, Luisa. Tonight it’s two. Quiet place, if possible.”

  “I’m sure that I can accommodate you.”

  They followed Luisa through the crowded restaurant into the rear. She walked past two rooms designated for smaller group dining.

  She didn’t want to think about how Luisa had managed to have a vacant room. She’d owe her friend a big favor for this.

  “You’ve certainly got an impressive array of patrons,” Brent remarked.

  Charisse followed his gaze to framed black-and-white photos lining the wall.

  “Yes, sir, we do have our share of celebrities and New York officials.”

  “Great endorsement. I must tell my friends about this place. I think I’m falling for it already,” he replied.

  “Appreciated.” Luisa smiled and ushered them into the private room.

  “Not that I think your opinion will change but you haven’t even tasted the food,” Charisse teased. Did his cocky swagger go along with an apparent decisiveness?

  “Doesn’t take long to recognize a good thing. And time matters to me.”

  Despite his husky, charming voice, she detected a steely, matter-of-fact tone to his delivery. She’d much rather be on the winning side of that voice.

  Wasting Brent’s time wasn’t an option. However, he was now on her turf. In this short time, she intended to work her strengths, slide any shortcomings out of sight and impress the heck out of him for the ultimate goal—a contract. Although she could have met him in the more casual dining area, she wanted the intimate VIP room to highlight her connections to the who’s who of New York City.

  Luisa pulled out a chair from the conference-style table. “This is one of our small conference lounges.”

  A young man barely out of high school stepped into the room.

  “And this is your waiter. He’ll attend to you this evening. If you should need anything further, don’t hesitate to ask. Enjoy and have a nice evening.”

  Charisse and Brent thanked Luisa. She added a wink and small nod to her friend for the VIP rollout.

  “Shall we?” Charisse motioned to the chairs that were positioned at the middle of the table, opposite each other. She waited for him to take his seat before she pulled up to the table in her chair. Thank goodness, she only had to interview with him and no one else. The extensive length of the table and their positions opposite each other added a touch of formality to the event.

  Charisse glanced over the oversize menu before snapping it closed. She already knew her order. Very rarely did she deviate from her favorite choice of pollo picante with a salad. She’d hold on the beans and rice since her nervous stomach had more than its fair share to deal with.

  “You know what you’re getting, already?” she asked, chancing a glance at his profile.

  “I’m getting what you’re having. Figured you know what’s good on the menu.”

  “So you’ll go for the spicy grilled chicken?”

  He nodded.

  “And salad?”

  He smiled. “Well, there I may have to step away from your lead and get a plate of fried sweet plantains.”

  Charisse nodded. “Now that’s an excellent choice.” Perfection seemed to have hit this man one wave after another. Not an ounce of excess fat lay visible on his face. The lean contour included a square jawline, a long narrow nose and eyes with the thickest eyelashes. She bit back her jealousy that he had what she had to get from a mascara wand. His eyebrows were equally thick, like bold accents to an already fabulous face.

  The only question she had about his features was whether the unique shade of his eyes belonged in the gray scheme or soft blue. But she feared that if she stared any longer, she’d lose all sense of propriety. This was a business meeting, after all.

  They submitted their orders and sat back comfortably.

  “I’m glad that I have this opportunity to talk to you. I really figured that the job had been filled.” She’d waited three months for a response from him, and there was always the ever-present worry that potential business wouldn’t come to fruition.

  “I’m taking my time. You know, being careful. The PR specialist will be working closely with me. Has to be someone I can trust and who can get up and running fairly quickly.”

  “Oh.” Charisse imagined herself at his side, rolling up her sleeves to work. Suddenly her throat felt dry.

  “And you have what I need. The PR campaign you launched for Dynamic Systems, the software company, last year impressed me. They managed to gain significant U.S. market share, a credit to your leadership. And Athletic One, the unknown athletic wear company sponsoring the tennis open, was genius. Again, you led the team.” Brent raised his cup in a toast.

  Charisse liked what she heard. He’d done his homework. Thankfully, she had several projects that had successful runs to prove that she knew what she was doing.

  “Why did you leave? Seems like you had everything.” Brent took a sip of water and set down the cup. His intense gaze zeroed in on her.

  “That’s true. Some days I do wonder why I opted to fly solo.” Charisse shrugged. She resisted the urge to squirm. No need for the naked truth about her obsessive desire to be a successful businesswoman. “My dream had always been to have my own business in public relations. I did the prerequisite work with highly reputable companies for the experience. Now I’m building my clientele to a manageable level.”

  “I can get with that. Will I be able to meet your partner?”

  “Ah…yes. Soon.” Now, she did squirm. “She’s on another project.” Charisse nodded, offering a wide smile to distract him from further questions. She’d forgotten that she had mentioned Shelby’s role in the management structure.

  The waiter entered the room with a wide tray carrying their meals. Charisse exhaled and sank back in the chair, grateful for a break from Brent’s questions. She’d rather eat and admire his lean face. Instead, she had to think ahead and s
tay alert for any loaded questions that could throw her off course.

  “Let’s eat.” Brent grinned. His knife and fork were poised over his plate of spicy chicken.

  “You don’t have to tell me twice,” she remarked, already cutting the tender meat.

  Easy silence settled over the room as they savored the tasty meal. Even the waiter’s checking in with them didn’t generate much conversation.

  “I can’t believe I ate almost half the meal without looking up.” Brent shook his head.

  “I know what you mean. The food is spectacular. I find that conversation tends to interfere with the enjoyment.”

  “Thank you for making such an excellent choice.” He raised his glass of wine.

  “You’re quite welcome.” She warmed under his compliment. His easy and friendly attitude provided a certain level of comfort. She asked, “What made you strike out in this field? I’m sure the income for an entertainment attorney was substantial.”

  “I look at my background as a good foundation for doing something that is a labor of love. I love working with groups or individuals who have the talent and passion but don’t have the good fortune to be connected with the right people. Getting your name out there is crucial in the business, especially when competition is huge and record companies only want to put out money on a sure thing.”

  “It is a brutal world out there,” she agreed.

  They continued to brief each other on their aspirations, along with challenges of the business. Charisse soon forgot that she was in an interview as she worked her way deeper into Brent’s story.

  “I’m enjoying your company. Let’s have dessert, so I can continue talking to you.” Brent looked over the menu.

  “Sure.”

  “Let’s make a deal.” He pointed at the desserts. “Why don’t we share? I’m a tad full and only have space for a spoon or two of something decadent.”