Jackie Braun - Must Like Kids

Alec nodded and reached for the glass of ice water that was already poured and waiting on the table in front of him. His throat felt parched. It remained that way even after he took a sip.

“Like all of you, I am very disappointed with the drop in our stock’s value.” Some media outlets were using words such as tanking and free-fall to describe the double-digit plummet the stock had taken in a matter of days. “I’ve drafted a letter to shareholders that should allay their concerns.” He swiped a finger over the condensation forming on the outside of the glass. Forget parched. His throat felt scorched now as he pushed out the rest of the words. “In addition to my personal apology, I am willing to tender my resignation if our stock has not rebounded within the next three months.”

“That’s commendable, Alec,” Herman replied. “Let’s hope it won’t come to that. We would hate to lose someone of your caliber over a publicity debacle such as this.”

Reading between the lines, Alec knew they would, though. They would shake him off even sooner if need be. Still, it appeared that his employment wasn’t on the agenda of today’s meeting. Alec was just starting to relax when the older man said, “That’s why, in a special meeting of the board yesterday, it was decided that we would bring in a consultant to help us with damage control.”

The board had convened two special meetings in as many days? And the first one had been conducted without his knowledge. That didn’t bode well.

“A consultant?” he asked, embarrassed to hear his voice crack.

“Yes. She comes highly recommended and is eager to get started.”

Alec blinked at that. “You’ve already been in contact with her?”

Which meant today’s special meeting wasn’t to ask his opinion, but to render the board’s verdict. He didn’t like being left out of the loop.

“Under the circumstances, we thought it best to act quickly. Our stockholders are demanding action.”

Dexter Roth from marketing was going to be irked, Alec thought. Same for Franklin Kirby, their advertising representative. Alec had asked the two men to head up the multipronged media blitz set to be unveiled this coming weekend. They were not going to be happy that an outside consultant was being brought in as the point person. Alec said as much now.

“Julia Stillwell will be part of the One Big Family campaign, an integral part,” Herman said. “She’s an image consultant.”

Alec’s brows hiked up. “An image...”

“Consultant,” Herman finished for him. His gaze was unflinching, although no one else around the table would meet Alec’s eye. “For better or worse, you are the face of this company. The public needs to get to know you better. They need to like you, trust you. They need to know that even though you are a bachelor with no children of your own, you aren’t antifamily or antichild.”

“I’m not.”

Just because he wasn’t interested in having a wife and kids didn’t mean he had anything against either marriage or parenthood. Some men were hardwired for the roles of husband and father. Alec—the product of a pair of freewheeling, free-spending parents, who had packed him off to boarding school so they could continue their jet-setting, hard-partying ways—figured he wasn’t. No way would he put another kid through the emotionally sterile childhood he’d endured, spending holidays and summers with nannies and other adults who’d been paid to watch over him.

“Excellent.” Herman glanced at his watch. “Your first meeting with her will be in less than an hour. She has a full schedule today, but has graciously agreed to fit you in.”

“How lucky for me,” he managed to say and forced a smile in case his sarcasm came through.

“You’ll need to go to her office, though. I’ve given your secretary the address. Ms. Stillwell asked that you be on time. She has a pressing appointment immediately after yours.”

“I’d better head out now, then.”

Alec pushed back his chair and rose. Irritation had replaced the apprehension he’d experienced upon entering the room. An image consultant! The idea was galling.

Herman’s parting words of “good luck” did little to improve his mood.

* * *

Julia Stillwell checked her watch against the clock on the wall. Alec McAvoy had one minute and forty-eight seconds to be at her door for their thirty-minute appointment. Punctuality was rule number one in her book. When people were late it said they didn’t think other people’s time was as valuable as their own. It also wreaked havoc on her ridiculously tight personal timetable.

As a single mother with two young children, she knew only too well the importance of staying on schedule. If she was late leaving the office, it meant she would be late picking up her kids from school, which in turn meant Danielle would be late for dance class or Colin for T-ball, or whatever else was on tap for that day. As it was, being a parent made life unpredictable, an adventure. She tried to see that as a plus, but on days such as this, she wasn’t always successful.

She’d been up since 4:00 a.m., jolted from sleep by a put-out Danielle. The nine-year-old had been none too happy to have to share her bed with her six-year-old brother, Colin, who’d climbed in with her after having a bad dream. Julia had checked under his bed and in his closet for the green-goo-oozing monster of his nightmare. Even after giving him the all clear, he’d been unable to fall back to sleep in his own room. So, all three of them had wound up in her full-sized bed, where none had managed another wink.

Julia fought back a yawn now as she glanced at the clock again. Alec McAvoy was officially late. When he arrived, assuming he did before she had to leave, she would offer him a cup of coffee so she could have some herself. One thing she wouldn’t be doing, however, was adding any time onto the end of the appointment to accommodate him. It might be his money, or more accurately Best For Baby’s, but it was her time. And she had better things to do with it—such as ensure Colin got to his T-ball game on time.

A high-powered executive such as Mr. McAvoy probably wouldn’t or couldn’t appreciate that. Julia didn’t stop to wonder if she might be judging him too harshly. After all, she’d been hired to rescue him from the deep hole he’d dug for himself, one that was costing his company and its investors millions of dollars, all because of an inflammatory statement. Slip of the tongue? Perhaps. But she didn’t buy for a minute that he’d intended the comment as a joke.

Professionally and in her personal life, Julia had met a lot of men like Alec. Men who viewed family obligations, children in particular, as an inconvenience, a burden. It was why, in the four years since her husband’s death, she’d only gone on a handful of dates. Men were interested in getting to know her until they learned that she came with a side order of kids. Then Julia found herself off the menu. It was their loss.

It was Alec McAvoy’s loss, too, she thought, glancing at the folder marked with his name.

She propped a hip on the edge of her desk, picked up the file and leafed through it again as she waited with growing impatience for him to arrive. The photograph was the one that had accompanied the story. It showed a handsome man in his mid-thirties clad in an expertly tailored charcoal suit, dark blue shirt and conservative-print silk tie. A handkerchief of the same print and fabric as the tie peeked from his breast pocket.

“I bet you’ve never wiped a runny nose with that,” she mused aloud.

Julia exhaled slowly. She had to convince mothers the country over that this bachelor CEO of a company that catered to children wasn’t antikid. The task wouldn’t be easy, especially if she didn’t put her heart into it. She didn’t have to like him, she reminded herself. But she had to make sure everyone else did. Still, it would help if she liked him. If she found his personality as appealing as his dark eyes and sexy smile. She frowned and glanced at her watch again. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much to like about a man who kept her waiting when she’d gone to the trouble of rescheduling another appointment to fit him in.