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RSVP with Love
Sandra Kitt
Ambitious event planner Chloe Jackson is sure of one thing: her ten-year college reunion is going to be the most spectacular weekend she has ever put together. But it's her co-organizer who's got the former Hollington College class prez feeling like a tongue-tied schoolgirl.He's Kevin Stayton, Most Popular Guy on Campus, owner of Atlanta's hottest clubs and restaurants–and Chloe's secret crush….Beneath Chloe's strictly business facade is a sensual woman Kevin wants to get to know a whole lot better. But when their sizzling romance thrusts them into the public eye, Chloe suddenly backs off. That's when Kevin turns up the heat on a passion that's already raging out of control–and a love affair destined to be one for the books!



“Chloe? You okay?”
She sighed. Then inhaled. “Yes, I’m fine.”
After another moment the shower curtain slowly pushed back. She instinctively crossed her arms over her chest and glanced over her shoulder. Kevin stepped in, stark naked behind her, his long, lean body filling the stall and crowding them together.
“Kevin! What are you doing?”
“Whatever I can to conserve natural resources.”
“There’s not enough room for both of us.”
Moving her aside he got under the spray, turning around to get completely wet. Kevin rotated Chloe around so that her back was to him.
“Let me,” he said.

SANDRA KITT
was the first black writer ever to publish with Harlequin Books. She is a recipient of two Lifetime Achievement Awards and the 2002 Service Award from Romance Writers of America. She has also appeared several times on the Essence magazine and Blackboard bestseller lists. Her book Significant Others was named by Amazon.com as one of the top twenty-five romances for the twentieth century.
A onetime graphic designer, she has exhibited across the U.S., designed cards for UNICEF and illustrated two books for the late science writer Isaac Asimov. Sandra is also an adjunct instructor in fiction writing and publishing, and is a frequent guest speaker. She has lectured at New York University, Penn State, Sarah Lawrence College and Columbia University.

RSVP with Love
Sandra Kitt

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Dedicated to everyone who shared all those
fabulous college years with me.

Dear Reader,
I had hoped to attend a college with the traditional, away-from-home residential setting of somewhere like Spelman College. But as with some of you, I’m sure, I did not go away to attend college. Living in a huge urban center like New York City, I had more than a dozen top-tier, nationally known colleges within fifty miles of where I grew up: Columbia, Fordham, NYU, Sarah Lawrence and my alma mater, City College. The best I could do for a real campus experience was move into my own apartment in Manhattan at nineteen, and become very involved in clubs, activities and school government. There was still plenty of young-adult angst (like what my characters in RSVP with Love experienced), first (and second-chance) romances, wonderful opportunities leading to great adventures and the forming of lifelong friendships.
The HOLLINGTON HOMECOMING series reflects what I wanted my college and postgraduate years to be like…and they were! It was great fun revisiting the possibilities, and remembering everything about that transition period which was one of the most important periods of my life. I hope you enjoy RSVP with Love, the first book in the series. And I hope all the stories bring back good memories for you.
Sandra Kitt

Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10

Prologue
“Go on. Admit it. The last four years at Hollington have been exciting, enriching and challenging. None of us will ever forget those night-before-exam cram sessions fueled by potato chips, beer and desperation…”
There was a smattering of laughter from the young men and women seated in front of the band shell stage, uniformly dressed in caps and gowns. Chloe Jackson was sure, as she knew the faculty must be, that their four years had been stoked at times with far more than what she’d politely mentioned. But this was neither the time nor the forum for reminding her fellow classmates that they’d arrived at Hollington College, for the most part, as teenagers with a penchant for arrogance, and were leaving as adults who’d learned they still didn’t know everything. There had been a lot of foolish mistakes, unforgivable behavior, triumphs, broken hearts and vendettas but also a unilateral determination to succeed.
Chloe glanced over the gathering of her classmates, detecting the rising hum of restlessness as they waited for the pomp and circumstance to be done, for her valedictorian address to end. The late afternoon sun was already shifting to the west. The next order of business for the graduates and the coming evening…some serious celebration.
“Even those crazy days and nights were part of our education, part of the process by which we learn to manage life, our uncompromising professors and bad diets. So, here we are at the tipping point. The scoreboard shows winning numbers all around. Hollington will soon be behind us and our futures straight ahead. We have been given all the necessary tools to make it bright and rewarding. Congratulations, class of 1999. We did it. Game on!”
Chloe gathered her notes and turned to leave the stage as enthusiastic and sustained applause broke out from the seated students. While she made her way back to her seat, the dean was already making final remarks, bringing the ceremony to a close. Chloe took her seat, and the young man in black-framed glasses sitting next to her leaned close.
“In training to be speaker of the house or a sports announcer?” Micah Ross whispered. “Impressive send-off.”
Chloe acknowledged the comment with a smile but said nothing. Micah, a very smart but quiet young man, was probably her best friend at Hollington. They’d somehow managed to become each other’s confidant in an environment that mostly cultivated couples and brief flings. Micah had been telling her in their last year that she would make a great senator, or congresswoman or anything. But she wasn’t interested in working for someone else, least of all the government.
“…We are so proud of all of you. Once again, congratulations to the Hollington College graduating class of 1999.”
With those words, it was done.
Chloe felt a chill of finality with the pronouncement. She stood along with everyone else as her classmates applauded each other. Most had decided on that time-honored tradition of tossing their mortarboards into the air and shouting with relief, joy and the freedom they’d earned along with their degrees and awards. She wasn’t about to toss her mortarboard anywhere. It had to be returned along with the gown or she’d be held financially responsible. It was an added expense she couldn’t afford.
Instead, after a brief hug from Micah, and cheek kisses from many around her with whom she’d spent four years, Chloe bent to retrieve from beneath her chair the three plaques and certificates she’d been awarded along with her diploma.
Then, she stood a bit dazed. Despite her speech heralding all her potential, she wasn’t sure what to do next. The graduation rituals seemed anticlimactic. Four years of work culminating in ninety minutes of speeches and a sheet of paper in a faux leather presentation folder. For a moment she felt a flash of emptiness. Like…how did she get here in the first place? Now that she’d actually achieved her goal of an undergraduate degree Chloe fingered the folder and wondered if this was all there was.
She looked around for the only two people in the crowd of nearly two thousand students and guests who should be attending the commencement ceremony because of her. There were clusters of people everywhere. Chloe quickly realized that she was the only one who stood alone.
On the band shell stage where all the college officials and faculty had been seated they, too, congratulated themselves on successfully shepherding another enrollment of students from freshman through senior year without any incidents that made the local papers or embarrassed the school, themselves or the students. And she suspected that by the end of the evening, the responsibility for this latest graduating class would all have been forgotten by those who had guided and tried to teach them.
Chloe was suddenly caught completely off guard when a young woman, almost twice her size, grabbed her in a fierce bear hug. The sharp edges of her awards pressed into her through the fabric of her gown. Her mortarboard fell off her head and landed at their feet. The woman stepped on it.
“Girl, thank you, thank you, thank you! I would not be standing here if you hadn’t helped me through that first year. Lord, I just knew I wasn’t going to get through.”
Chloe extracted herself and bent to retrieve her cap. “Darlene, you don’t have to thank me.” She carefully brushed loose grass and dirt from the cap. “You did all the work, and you worked really hard.”
Darlene, a big woman with a big voice and laugh and exuberance, shook her head. “Uh-uh. Don’t let it go like that. You kept me on point. All those times you helped me do research in the library. I couldn’t face my grandmother if I had failed. I’m the first person in my family to go to college.”
Chloe shrugged lightly. “Me, too.”
Seeing Darlene’s surprised expression she rushed on, not allowing her classmate a chance to ask questions, and sorry that she was so unguarded in her choice of words.
“Is your grandmother here?” Chloe asked.
“She sure is. Said she wouldn’t miss today for anything. You know, she could never come on parents’ weekends, so I want to show her around. The campus sure isn’t like where I grew up.” Darlene stopped suddenly, looking a bit embarrassed. “You know what I’m talking about, right? You were always alone on those weekends, too.”
“I know what you mean,” Chloe responded smoothly.
Darlene looked beyond her. “What about you? Did your…”
“They’re here somewhere,” Chloe spoke confidently. “It’s crowded. They’re probably wandering around right now trying to find me.”
“Yeah. Right,” Darlene murmured. “Well, I gotta go. My grandmother can’t stand too long. I’ll see you at the party later, okay?”
She rushed away before Chloe could answer, saving her the trouble of admitting she knew nothing about a party. She carefully placed the graduation cap back atop her head, straightened her gown and began meandering through the hundreds of milling people, looking for one couple in particular.
The great field in front of the band shell stage was beginning to empty. She’d walked the grassy area twice and was now wondering if anyone had shown up at all to see her graduate, to see her win the President’s Award for scholastic merit, the Hollington Discovery Award for entrepreneurial spirit, a plaque recognizing her volunteer work tutoring kids living in shelters in Atlanta. There was also a check for five thousand dollars from an anonymous benefactor. It sounded impressive, but Chloe knew she would trade it all in a heartbeat for a look of love and pride from her own family.
She turned at the whoop of laughter behind her and found a sizable gathering surrounding Beverly Turner. People were taking endless digital pictures of Hollington’s statuesque and pretty homecoming queen, and it was clear that, as always, Beverly was enjoying being the center of attention. But to her credit Beverly had always been understated about her God-given gifts of beauty and personality. She was well-liked, incredibly popular and in the top fifteen percent of the graduating class. Darlene had once said, not without a bit of envy, “I swear that girl lives a blessed life.”
Chloe smiled tightly to herself. Beverly’s pictures were sure to end up in the local paper the next day: “Hollington Homecoming Beauty Says Goodbye.”
Chloe sighed and turned away, encroaching disappointment eating away at her early euphoria. There weren’t many people left on the field. The custodial staff was already spread out, collecting the folding chairs and disconnecting the audio equipment on stage.
“Hey! How come you’re still out here? I’ve been looking all over the place for you.”
Once again Chloe found herself grabbed, this time from behind. She scrambled to hold on to her awards, but they all dropped to the ground.
She was pulled into someone’s arms and kissed unceremoniously, catching only a glimpse of the man crushing her against his lean body. Once again, her mortarboard fell from her head. Caught off guard, Chloe was unprepared to ward off the assault and could only react instinctively. She kissed him back.
Her mouth was compliant and soft. He controlled the pressure and intensity and contact with her tongue, gently forcing it to dance with his. She inhaled his scent and found it pleasant, almost comforting. Somewhere in her mind Chloe knew this was inappropriate, a mistake. But she also sensed a familiarity that made the embrace nonthreatening. And very seductive.
Chloe’s assailant seemed in no hurry to…hurry. But then he pulled back as swiftly as he’d grabbed her, releasing her so suddenly she stumbled backward, stunned…and giddy.
“Oh, man! I’m so sorry,” the tall handsome graduate said, chuckling.
Chloe blinked silently at him. It was hard to take the apology seriously. He looked only mildly taken aback and more than a little amused. He was tall with a sinewy athletic leanness. He also had a cocky stance as if he hadn’t really done anything so terrible and, of course, she wasn’t going to hold his mistake against him.
He was also very good-looking, his skin a latte tone broken only by the devilish goatee that grew around his wide mouth. With teeth that were even and white, his smile made him look rakish. Chloe had the distinct feeling that he was totally aware of his appeal, and had no trouble playing on it. If the gossip on campus was half-true, Kevin Stayton, if not exactly a womanizer, was at the very least a seasoned heartbreaker.
Trying to catch her breath and her voice, Chloe stared at him. Of course she recognized him. It was certainly confirmed by the sudden roiling of her stomach and the heated ignition of her hormones. She struggled not to betray herself. She lightly placed her fingers over her lips, as if to seal the taste and feel of him. An unexpected bonus to the day was how she saw the encounter—an unexpected graduation gift.
“I think you’ve made a mistake,” Chloe said the obvious.
A slightly wicked and totally noncontrite expression crossed his face as his gaze roamed thoroughly over her.
“Yeah, seems like it. Hey, I didn’t mean to jump you like that.”
Chloe pursed her lips, the implication creating an image for her of what that would be like. His voice, this close, was every bit as resonant and deep as she’d imagined. She knew more about Kevin Stayton than he could ever know.
“I see you like to act first and ask questions later.”
Kevin grinned, a “what can I say?” look on his face.
“I swear, from the back you looked just like…anyway, I’m really sorry…”
A trio of young men hurried by in their gowns. They shouted greetings to Kevin, offering high fives and fist bumps to each other. They said nothing to her.
“I’m not in the habit of attacking unsuspecting women,” Kevin said.
“Don’t worry about it,” Chloe said in as steady a voice as she could manage. “I guess I should be flattered.”
He shrugged lightly, accepting the implied compliment. “Don’t look at it like that. It’s been that kind of day, you know? Hey, by the way, congratulations.”
Kevin spread his arms as if to warn her that he was going to touch her again. He did so, grabbing her upper arms and leaning toward Chloe to chastely kiss her cheek.
Chloe briefly closed her eyes. He smelled so nice. She liked his sudden attack much better.
“I’m—”
“Kevin Stayton. I know who you are.”
Again, he didn’t seem embarrassed or nonplussed by her calm identification. Chloe realized that Hollington’s resident babe magnet and popular man-about-campus was probably used to being recognized…and idolized.
“Chloe Jackson,” she said with a little lift of her chin.
Kevin narrowed his gaze and stared at her. “Sounds familiar.” Then, he snapped his fingers. “Right! You were up on stage. Valedictorian or something. Got a bunch of awards. Put me to shame.”
She wondered if he was making fun of her—the brainiac and Goody Two-shoes who largely went unnoticed by Kevin and his crowd. And it’s not like she was never invited to the parties, dances, rallies, clubs like any other coed. But she was the one most likely to sit alone along the sidelines and watch, super-careful not to do anything that would jeopardize her scholarships and the ultimate goal of getting her degree.
“I got a couple. I saw you go up to the stage, too,” she murmured, bending to retrieve her cap and awards.
Kevin beat her to it, swooping up everything and handing them back to her.
“For economics and marketing. Not too shabby.”
Chloe took her things from him. There was a moment’s awkward silence. Then, she made it easy for him. “Er…I bet she’s in the ladies’ room. Hair. Makeup. Panty hose.”
He shook his head and laughed quietly at her description. “Hadn’t thought of that. So how come you’re not in there?”
“I’m looking for someone, too. My…family,” she rushed on, the word coming forth uncomfortably.
“Right. Mine are waiting for me somewhere, but…”
Kevin ran his hand over his hair, a very close cut defining the shape of his head. It emphasized his square chin and the clean, straight line of his nose. His bottom lip was wide and full. Lush and mobile. Suddenly recalling the movement of his mouth, Chloe inadvertently moistened her lips.
He frowned and studied her again. “I feel like I should know you from somewhere. Any ideas?”
She shrugged, calm again and poised. “We probably had some classes together.”
He pursed his mouth, nodding. “Yeah, yeah…now I remember.”
Chloe sighed inwardly. He didn’t have a clue.
“You have promises to keep,” she quoted, staying cool and not allowing the fact that, after four years of passing one another on campus, sitting side by side in world studies, that at the eleventh hour as they were about to go their separate ways forever, she’d finally gotten Kevin Stayton to notice her.
He smiled ruefully. “I have to be careful about that. I mean, making promises.”
“Chloe! We made it. I know we’re late…”
Chloe glanced beyond Kevin to the couple advancing across the field. She could tell by their breathlessness that they’d either not been able to find her in the crowds of students earlier or they’d just arrived.
The woman, short and stout and dressed in one of her Sunday church ensembles, took Chloe in a light embrace and kissed her cheek.
“We’re so happy for you,” the woman said.
“We know this was real important to you,” said the man.
He was tall and broad. His dark suit was the only one he owned and was a tad too small for his frame. He, too, gave Chloe a brief hard hug and squeezed her shoulder.
“Sorry we don’t have a gift or anything for you,” he apologized.
“I’m glad you’re here.” Chloe smiled at him. Aware that Kevin Stayton stood watching this tableau she took a deep breath and turned to face him.
Kevin stepped forward and thrust his hand out to the man standing next to her.
“I’m Kevin Stayton. Congratulations, Mr. Jackson. Mrs. Jackson. I know you’re proud of your daughter,” Kevin offered with charm and a polished demeanor.
Silently the man and woman exchanged glances. Then looked at Chloe. She turned to Kevin.
“This is Mr. and Mrs. Fields. Harold and Nettie.”
“We’re Chloe’s foster parents,” Nettie Fields clarified with a calm smile.
“Oh,” Kevin said, nodding. “Sorry, I…”
“No need to be sorry, son. We couldn’t be more happy for this girl if she’d been one of our own. Right, Nettie? And today sure means a lot to Chloe.”
There was an awkward silence. The Fields, being simple and honest people, thought nothing of Kevin’s understandable mistake. Chloe, on the other hand, felt like she was falling down a rabbit hole, rushing back into a past that was undefined and blurred in her memory. By circumstances, she knew she shouldn’t even be there graduating from Hollington. She quietly squared off with Kevin, their gazes meeting and holding. His darkening gaze told her he got it—no further explanation was needed. With an imperceptible nod of his head Kevin lifted a corner of his mouth.
“She’s going to go far,” he said to the Fields. “I can tell she’s going to have a great future. Most likely to succeed.”
“Thanks. Nice of you to say so,” Chloe murmured.
As the four of them faced each other with nothing more to say, Kevin heard his name being called behind him. They all turned to the female voice and saw a young woman attempting to trot across the grass, unsteady in high heels. Her graduation robe hung open, and they could see her body swaying unsteadily but seductively in a pretty spring dress. The show was all for Kevin.
“That’s my cue,” Kevin said to them all, backing away toward the woman.
Chloe could not see how he could have mistaken the advancing alluring sight with her. Curve for curve, attribute for attribute, there was no contest. Like her, however, the young woman was tall and thin. Her hair was upswept in the back, while Chloe’s was short and only seemed to be longer because of the way it was combed. Chloe could see that their complexions were similar. Medium-brown. Plus from behind, all you could see was their robes.
Kevin had made an honest mistake.
“Seems like a nice young man,” Mrs. Fields said quietly. “Is he a good friend?”
Chloe shook her head, watching the couple walk away, their arms around one another. “This is the second time we’ve ever spoken.”
Her foster mother looked incredulous. “In four years?”
“He seemed to have a lot to say when we walked up on you. Sure there’s nothin’ going on?” Mr. Fields cackled good-naturedly.
“Not a chance,” Chloe responded caustically, despite an infuriating flash recall of Kevin kissing her.
“I’m so sorry we’re late,” Mrs. Fields said sincerely. “Harold got lost.”
“Well, tell her how we got started late. Nettie couldn’t find her good purse. It ain’t all my fault,” he groused.
“I’m glad you got here,” Chloe said.
Mrs. Fields looked around. “Did we miss everything?”
“Just a lot of talking,” Chloe answered kindly, not wanting to blame them or make them feel bad. The truth of the matter was the couple didn’t have to come at all. It wasn’t part of their agreement.
Mrs. Fields sighed, remorseful.
Chloe realized that she would have to rescue the afternoon and protect the memory of the day. She’d have to take responsibility for it to end on an up note.
“You’ve never been here before. Would you like to look around?”
“Sure is pretty,” Mr. Fields commented as they fell into step together and headed back toward the quad, around which all the buildings were laid out. “Not like where we live, right, Nettie?”
“Well, we can’t always help where we’re born and raised,” Mrs. Fields sighed. “But Chloe got lucky, thank the good Lord.”
Chloe smiled warmly at Mrs. Fields. “I also got lucky and had you and Mr. Fields.”
Nettie Fields brushed the compliment aside with an airy wave of her hand. “We didn’t do much. Why, look at her now. Don’t she look grown up, Harold?”
“Sure do.”
Mrs. Fields gasped and stopped walking. “Honey, we didn’t take you away from anything, did we? You know, maybe meeting friends later. Was that young man about to ask you to join him?”
Chloe shook her head, looking down at her feet and inexpensive pumps.
She wished.
“No, he wasn’t. Kevin Stayton and I never hung out together. He’s not really a friend.”
She hoped that the longing and schoolgirl crush weren’t obvious. It was one thing to hold out hope with such a ridiculous thought. It was another for anyone to know and only make fun of her.
Chloe knew exactly the direction Kevin and his girlfriend had walked. Covertly she let her eyes find them, standing in the shadows of a tree near the entrance to the student lounge. They were embracing and kissing, unmindful of anyone else walking by making comments about their open display of affection.
She hardly thought Kevin Stayton was going to remember her, let alone give her a second thought.

Chapter 1
“Hey, girl! It’s good to see you.”
Chloe was in midstride to shake hands with the gregarious petite young woman who greeted her but was never given the chance. Kyra Dixon ignored her outstretched hand and, instead, reached out her arms. She was expecting a hug that Chloe found herself obliged to give.
“Oh…okay. Hi,” Chloe managed awkwardly, as she hugged Kyra back and found herself engulfed in the whiff of floral perfume.
Kyra laughed. “You forgot the Hollington Hello? What’s this shaking hands stuff? I want some sugar, girl.”
Chloe tried to glance around the other guests having lunch in the faculty dining room and was relieved to see that no one was paying attention to this dramatic greeting. Not at all used to this from someone she hadn’t seen in ten years, Chloe nonetheless gave in and followed Kyra’s lead. Even as she would have withdrawn after they touched cheek to cheek and air-kissed, Chloe found Kyra’s hello more suited to a favorite girlfriend or a beloved relative. They had not really been friends as undergraduates and certainly hadn’t moved in the same circles.
With a gentle push Kyra directed Chloe to the empty chair opposite her at the large square table. Chloe settled herself in the comfortable high-back chair and, in the thirty seconds it took Kyra to take her own seat again, she closely observed the other woman.
Kyra was dressed in an eye-catching broad floral-print black-and-red silk blouse, worn with a black skirt. She wore black two-inch heels, probably in the hope that they would add height to her petite frame. She managed to look professional, feminine and cheerful. Her hair was worn straight to chin level and was parted off center so that it curved gently to frame her pretty face. As if on cue Kyra was making her own observations of Chloe.
“Your hair used to be short.”
Chloe sat back and spread her napkin over her lap.
“Actually, I wore it mostly cornrowed. It was easier to take care of and cost less than going to the beauty parlor every two weeks. I stopped wearing the cornrows when I got my first job. I wanted to look—”
“More mainstream.” Kyra nodded, knowingly. She eyed Chloe thoughtfully. “Is it all yours or a weave?”
“Mine,” Chloe said with a small, satisfied smile. “Every strand.”
“I know what you’re thinking.” Kyra sighed, settling back in her chair that seemed to swallow her small frame. She crossed her legs. “We’re still putting ourselves through hoops to be taken seriously in business. I can tell you I would not be PR director if I appeared Afrocentric. Hollington has a different message to send out about its students.”
“So did I. For myself,” Chloe said.
“I hear you. So…when I was told that the Alumni Association had asked you to organize the homecoming this fall, I said Chloe who?” Kyra remarked, chuckling at her own humor. “It took a while before I could recall you. Then I remembered you and I were tortured together in that African dance class with that professor who was eighty if she was a day!”
Kyra broke out in a merry giggle, making it impossible for Chloe to take offense. To her Kyra’s observation was proof that she’d done a good job of staying under the radar as an undergraduate. Chloe knew she had good reasons to be cautious, but Kyra didn’t need to know what they were.
Anyway, she remembered Kyra from the aforementioned dance class but only because Kyra had been terrible at the ritual movements that called for a looseness of limbs and gyration of hips and butt. Instead, Kyra treated the class lightly, becoming the loveable uncoordinated participant who broke into laughter at her own mistakes and was accused of not having any natural rhythm. Crossing her legs and straightening the hem of her summer linen dress, Chloe also recalled that at first she’d thought Kyra was silly. But she’d come to admire that, rather than take a two-point elective class too seriously, Kyra had set about simply having fun and probably enjoying herself more than anyone. And she passed the class.
“It was either that dance class or the history of textiles,” Chloe contributed to the memory.
“Right!” Kyra nodded, rolling her eyes. “I figured with the dancing maybe I’d get into my African roots. Forget that!” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand, giggling again.
Having been presented with the single-paged menu for the day, both Chloe and Kyra selected the grilled salmon with julienne carrots and saffron rice.
Chloe’s assumption of a straightforward business meeting with Kyra had to be revisited as her former Hollington College classmate proceeded to treat her like a long-lost friend, gossiping about other classmates, school scandals and changes in college policies.
“I was also surprised to hear from you,” Chloe said. “I didn’t know you’d been hired by Hollington. How long have you been here?”
Kyra sighed as their moment of levity faded away. “Six years. I was just another assistant before they made me PR director. Let me tell you, it feels so strange to be back here and not have to worry about term papers and grades. As an administrator I have a whole ’nother perspective,” she said wryly. “Remember how much we held the faculty and staff with suspicion? They were all, ‘the other.’ Now I’m one of them.”
Chloe remembered no such thing—only how grateful she was to have been chosen to attend Hollington on a full scholarship. She hadn’t treated any of those four years lightly.
“That’s fine. You can see and appreciate both sides.”
“That’s true, but it’s an interesting balancing act. I totally empathize with the students, having survived myself as one here at Hollington. But I also understand the responsibility from the college point of view. And there are other memories.” Kyra shrugged.
Chloe watched Kyra, the girlish giggling replaced by an articulate but animated and attractive young woman.
“So, what is it you do, exactly?”
“I advocate for the college. I look for ways, and people, to keep up our reputation and profile as a contender in the higher academic community, especially for African-American students. I work to get us good press and try to find high schools with the caliber of student who’d be a good fit for Hollington.”
Their lunch was served, and both women busied themselves with enjoying it. Finally, after more light conversation and as they were finishing, Kyra sat back in her chair. Her expression became thoughtful, her voice quiet.
“Remember Terrence Franklin?”
Chloe considered a moment. “I think so. Hot athlete, right? Very popular. I think he’s a pro football player.”
“Was,” Kyra corrected. “He got cut after his last serious injury. Messed up his knee. The boy is out of the game,” she ended flippantly.
“Oh,” Chloe said. She wasn’t a football fan, herself.
“Anyway, Hollington would like to have him come back to the college. We want to offer Terrence the position of head coach or even athletic director. It’s my job to try and sign him up. It’s not going to be easy,” she said, frowning slightly.
“Why not?”
“Oh…lots of reasons. Money and title and benefits. Let’s face it. Being a coach at a college is a huge step down from being watched by zillions of fans on Monday Night Football. Terrence and I…we have a history.”
“Oh,” Chloe said again. She didn’t know anything about that, either.
“Yeah…” She paused. “We were engaged when we were students. So, it could get complicated.”
“Maybe not. Who knows? Terrence may be looking for something stable and comfortable now that his pro career is over.”
Kyra quickly revived herself and smiled brightly. “Not your problem. And that’s not why I wanted to meet with you today. I wanted to talk about the homecoming. You do realize it’s also the tenth anniversary of our graduation in 1999?”
“Yes, I know,” Chloe said, absently watching their plates being removed. She declined the dessert menu. “That’s one of the reasons why I agreed to take it on. You know, I own and manage an event planning business. I’ve been thinking a lot about October.”
“Well, I hope you haven’t just been thinking about it. It’s already July, and homecoming is on the calendar for the second weekend of October. That’s three months.”
Chloe smiled confidently. “I’m on it. The weekend schedule is pretty much set. The invitations went out in June.”
“I saw it. Fabulous! You used the school colors very well. The invitation looked classy but fun. I like that the Hollington Lion mascot is silhouetted on the front, with a crown tilted at an angle on his head. He looks large and in charge.” She laughed and said, “The varsity guys will appreciate that.”
“We’re already starting to get registration RSVPs. I think it’s up to about two hundred.”
“Good. Now, what do you have in mind for Friday night?”
“Well, I thought there should be a private cocktail party for the elite alumni who are big contributors to the college. You know…the president can tell them how important and wonderful they are. I’ve invited the trustees.”
“Make sure you have Lucius Gray on the list. He’s an alumni and a very successful attorney in Atlanta. Also Beverly Clark. Her mother and a cousin graduated Hollington.”
“I’m glad you mentioned Beverly. You know she was homecoming queen in 1998, the fall before we graduated, and I want her to ride in the parade float on Sunday again as homecoming queen. I’m having trouble reaching her. She hasn’t returned any of my e-mails or phone calls.”
Kyra pursed her lips. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll talk to Beverly. She and I were best friends in college. We were in the same sorority.” Kyra glanced briefly at her. “What sorority were you in?”
Chloe was not about to admit to the embarrassment and rejection she’d experienced when she hadn’t been asked to pledge by any of the sororities. With her limited resources, cheap clothes and troubled background, it was probably just as well. The less anyone knew about her the better.
“Oh, I didn’t bother,” Chloe said, trying to appear a little indifferent. “I didn’t have time. I worked several part-time jobs. I was on scholarship so I had to keep up good grades.” She chuckled lightly, to cover that encroaching reminder that she didn’t fit in and never really belonged.
“Oh, but you were valedictorian at graduation, right? So it all paid off.”
“Yes. It all paid off,” Chloe reflected quietly.
Kyra signed for their lunch, and they left the small elegantly appointed room and headed back to her office. It was in one of the newer administration buildings along the south side of the college quad. On their walk back Kyra pointed out to Chloe other changes to the campus. Chloe admitted that since graduating she’d only been back on campus a few times. Kyra talked about the new stadium and science building with state-of-the-art labs and equipment. There was also restoration taking place on one of the original buildings, designed in the style of Stanford White.
As Kyra accepted messages from her assistant and walked into her office, she went back to the subject of the first night of homecoming weekend.
“Okay, so I know about the Friday reception with President Morrow. What about everybody else that night?”
“A meet and greet in the library gallery followed by Night Owl chats. I’m setting up rooms for many of the special interest clubs or groups so people can easily find classmates who had similar interests. Like, one for the sports jocks, one for the humanities. You know, art and creative writing students, music majors. And one for gays and lesbians—”
“Whoa. I don’t know about that last one. Just acknowledging them didn’t fly with the trustees last year,” Kyra warned.
“Well, I’ll have to remind them and the president that a very well-known gay journalist who graduated from Hollington with top honors and has a flourishing career gives to the college. He’s going to be at the Friday night party. We can’t leave him out or make him invisible.” Kyra continued to look skeptical and raised her brows. “Don’t worry. It’ll happen,” Chloe said confidently.
“If you say so. Now,” Kyra said, getting comfortable in her desk chair, scooting closer to the desk and staring at Chloe with an almost-childlike excitement, “what about the big dance on Saturday after the game? Have you found a place for that yet?”
“I’m considering several—”
“Don’t need to. Book Bollito.”
Chloe felt an odd little flutter in her chest at the mention of one of the hottest clubs in Atlanta. Housed in what appeared to be an industrial box that was formerly a manufacturing warehouse, the club had opened to rave reviews just a few years earlier.
“I know you’ve been there. Everybody within a hundred miles of Atlanta has come in for dinner and dancing. It’s a huge club space, but you don’t get that feeling. There are five full floors and each floor has its own kind of decor and music. The concept is brilliant, but that’s Kevin for you. He always comes up with the big ideas. You have to talk with him and get him to agree to use Bollito for the Saturday night dance. It’s perfect.”
Chloe was glad that Kyra had so much to say about Kevin Stayton’s club in downtown Atlanta. It gave her enough time to gather her wits and come up with a response. Of course Bollito was a great choice of venues. She didn’t object to that. She was having an adolescentlike moment at the thought of dealing with Kevin. And it wasn’t like they’d known each other as students. But their few encounters together had been profound. Simple and as brief as the moments had been, Chloe realized that she had lived with the memories of those moments for ten years.
“Like I was about to say, it’s on the list—”
“No, no, no, no…” Kyra said repeatedly, shaking her head and dismissing Chloe’s explanations. “That was not a suggestion, Chloe. You have to book Bollito. Think about what it’s going to be like to have it listed on the program. Think about the press. Bollito is way hot right now. It’s impossible to book it for private functions, but Kevin is one of us. A ninety-niner!”
Chloe found herself laughing at Kyra’s enthusiasm and logic. The truth of the matter was, Bollito would be perfect. But Bollito was not the problem.
“If it makes you feel better, I’m working on a proposal to send to Kevin.”
“You need to talk to Kevin. I can’t imagine him saying no. He better not.” Kyra brightened suddenly. “You know what? I’m going to call him right now and set it up.”
Despite Kyra’s small size it was clear to Chloe that Hollington had chosen well in making her the director of PR. She had exactly what the job needed. Not taking no for an answer but with charm and good humor.
“Hi. This is Kyra Dixon. I’m PR director for Hollington College.”
Chloe stared down at her hands, feigning indifference but listening to every word of the one-way conversation.
“Is Kevin available?…Oh…Will he be back soon?…You’re not sure.”
Suddenly, Chloe reached over the desk and, to Kyra’s obvious surprise, took the phone out of her hand.
“Hi. I’m sorry to interrupt. I’m Chloe Jackson, president of RSVP. I’m an event planner here in Atlanta. Perhaps I should be asking about Mr. Stayton, although I appreciate Ms. Dixon making the call. I understand he’s not in, but I’m hoping he’ll spare me some time this afternoon. Tell him—” she glanced at Kyra “—tell Kevin that I have a business proposition for him. It’s about our homecoming weekend in October. We graduated from Hollington the same year…Yes, yes, that is kind of funny, isn’t it?”
Chloe looked at Kyra and found her rolling her eyes. She had to grin.
“I’m hoping that Kevin can see me this afternoon…Yes, I know how busy he is. The man practically supports the economy of Atlanta all by himself. But, this is important, and I know Kevin would want to be in on the discussions. Why don’t I come over in say…” She looked at her watch. “About an hour?…No, I won’t stay long. This is just a getting-back-in-touch meeting. Yes, I really appreciate your assistance.”
Sensing that the call was about to end, Kyra snatched back the phone.
“Now, don’t let Kevin yell at you because you messed with his schedule this afternoon.” She smiled and laughed into her phone. Winking at Chloe she gave her a thumbs-up.
“This is so kind of you. Ms. Jackson will be over within the hour. Bye.”
“Well, that wasn’t very businesslike,” Chloe mused. “I probably should have asked to stop by tomorrow, give myself more time to prepare.”
“Girl, you don’t need any more time. You need to get over to Kevin’s office, tell him we want to use his club for a party and send him a contract. And tell him if he’s going to be difficult he’ll have to deal with me!”

Chloe decided that however Kevin Stayton managed his multimillion-dollar enterprise, Stayton Investments, he certainly didn’t stand on ceremony. Upon arriving at Kevin’s office his assistant, Peg, didn’t hesitate to show her directly into his office and leave her on her own. Unasked, Peg had returned five minutes later with a bottle of chilled mineral water, a cut Baccarat crystal glass and a linen cocktail napkin on a glass tray. Chloe’s eyebrows had shot up in surprise and appreciation. The offering showed a lot of class.
Kevin’s offices turned out to be a full floor with several rooms and a comfortable, if small, reception area. It was above Flavor, the first restaurant he’d opened in Atlanta. It was the business that had put him on the map, built his customer base and garnered regional reviews. Chloe was surprised by how modest, but attractive, professional and efficient the office was. It wasn’t at all what she’d expected from someone with Kevin’s level of success.
Left alone Chloe remained standing, pacing and looking around. The office was comfortable with a good modern desk and chair. Against an adjacent wall was a leather love seat, a glass-and-chrome coffee table and two more side chairs to create a more informal area to receive guests. Just above the back of the love seat was a gallery of framed photographs, most taken of Kevin with, Chloe could see, entertainment royalty. She recognized Alicia Keys, Jesse Jackson, Adam Sandler, Scarlett Johansson, Jada Pinkett Smith and Will Smith.
The office was neat and orderly; “a place for everything, and everything in its place” went through her mind. There were contracts, delivery receipts and inventory lists on his desk. There was a window-ledge-high bookcase behind Kevin’s chair organized with business magazines. At the base, strangely out of place, was a pair of soft leather loafers. A number of fancy glass and silver awards sat on his desk. With irreverence two were being used as paperweights. That made Chloe grin, and she attempted to relax. But she was ever mindful of the last time she and Kevin Stayton had seen one another. Without conscious thought her fingers touched her lips and she briefly enjoyed a memory that held steadfast and refused to go away.
The door suddenly opened, making Chloe start, and a man stood in the doorway clearly surprised at her presence. It was Kevin Stayton, dressed in running shorts, a sleeveless athletic tank top, a bandanna tied around his forehead and perspiration wet and shiny on his handsome face.
Dressed as he was it was easy to see Kevin was in superb shape. He hadn’t let his body go to fat as often happened in post-college years. If anything Kevin was even more handsome than the image that had been stored ten years in her memory bank. She started to speak, but Kevin turned in the doorway and called out.
“Peg? I don’t recall a meeting this…”
“You didn’t have one planned,” Chloe said, having recaptured her poise and confidence. “I’m sorry if I caught you—”
“Undressed?” Kevin said with an unexpected show of humor.
“Unprepared. I understood you were expecting me.”
“You’re right. I probably forgot. Sorry for showing up hot and sweaty and in need of something cold to drink.”
Chloe blinked at him. He sounded more amused than annoyed by her appearance. And she reacted instinctively to his comment. She reached for the bottled water on the tray, opened it and held it out.
Kevin, whose gaze had barely left her face since he entered the room, glanced briefly at the water before accepting it. He took a swig that emptied half the contents. As Chloe watched, fascinated, the water rushed down his throat as was evident by his swallowing muscles. He let out a short satisfied sigh of repletion and ran his forearm along his chin to wipe the sweat away.
“Thanks.”
He turned in the open door to speak to someone waiting in the reception area—someone Chloe could not see.
“That’s it, CB. I’m cool. I’ll catch you later.”
Kevin turned back to Chloe, his gaze again openly studying her.
“I’m Chloe Jackson,” she announced, holding out her slender hand to him. It was a little disconcerting to have Kevin stare so blatantly at her. Immediately, however, she could tell her name meant nothing to him. He took the hand but rather than shake it, he simply held it.
“Hello, Chloe Jackson.”
“Kyra Dixon and I called earlier and spoke to your assistant who arranged for me to stop by. Kyra and I had lunch together. I assumed your assistant would have told you…I can see now this is not a good time.”
Kevin let her hand go, indicated a chair she was to sit in and closed his office door.
“I decided to go for a run. Not her fault I’m meeting you like this. Kind of funky.” He flapped his elbows up and down and grinned broadly.
“I’m not offended,” Chloe said carefully.
Kevin took his seat. He pulled off the sweat-soaked bandanna and tossed it on his desk.
“So what’s this about Kyra?”
Briefly, Chloe outlined the lunch meeting with Kyra, the discussion about homecoming and the tentative plans for each day of the weekend. All the time she was talking she wasn’t sure if Kevin was actually paying attention, and he continued to stare. But she’d found her balance and decided she wasn’t going to feel intimidated, or giddy, just because she was sitting opposite Kevin Stayton, once the object of her daydreams and affections.
“I’m planning a dance party on Saturday night of homecoming. I think it will be a great way to bring the weekend to an end, before everybody heads home on Sunday after service and brunch. So…”
“So Kyra sent you to persuade me to use one of my clubs.”
Suddenly Chloe didn’t like the slight derision she heard in Kevin’s voice, as if the idea was laughable.
“Not exactly,” she said clearly. “I’m in charge of the planning and arrangements for the weekend. In case you don’t remember it’s also the tenth anniversary for the class of ninety-nine.”
“I got the invitation,” he said and nodded.
“Kyra and I are on the same page about how to celebrate the occasion. I’m the one who will persuade you to let us book one of your clubs. Bollito, to be exact.”
Kevin arched a brow and a sardonic smile lifted a corner of his mouth. “You aim high.”
“Why not? You don’t get what you don’t ask for.”
“Or demand,” Kevin added, a glint in his eyes as he squared off with her.
“I never demand,” Chloe said calmly. “I don’t have to. I can give you not only sound business reasons why using Bollito for a homecoming party makes sense, but I can tell you why personally you’ll even enjoy it.”
Kevin sat back in his chair, lifted his sneaker-shod feet onto the edge of the desk and crossed them at the ankles. “I doubt that. The thought of over-aged former coeds let loose on my best club doesn’t work for me. But, you have my undivided attention. Go.”
Chloe arched a brow herself. It was actually something she’d taught herself to do, recognizing that the simple gesture implied everything from surprise, to skepticism, to contempt. At the moment Chloe used it to show Kevin that she was going to beat him at his own game. She knew how to negotiate a deal.
“To begin with, we’re expecting seven, maybe eight hundred graduates from our class, plus spouses and dates. Of course homecoming events will be open in general to all Hollington students, but the anniversary celebration on Saturday night is just for our class. I think it’s safe to say you were very popular on campus…” Again his eyebrows rose, although his expression remained otherwise impassive. “The party is an amazing opportunity to see folks you haven’t seen in ten years. It will be a big reunion.
“As to the business part. Really, Kevin, I think you know them better than I do. First of all I plan on charging an admission to the party. I’ll have a way built in to make sure that only those from the class of ninety-nine will attend. Second, your club serves alcohol. You get a bunch of overaged former coeds, as you call them, together who haven’t seen each other in years, it’s a chance to talk and spend money on liquor.”
Chloe had the satisfaction of seeing the interest grow in Kevin’s appraising gaze.
“You can throw in a selection of finger foods to serve butler-style. And nothing cheap. Provide the kind of foods we like. Make them delicious and well prepared and easy to manage with a drink in hand and the attendees will be raving long after the weekend. They’ll be talking not only about Bollito but what a great job Kevin Stayton did. Third, provide good music. You know we love to dance. Bollito has five dance floors. They’ll be put to good use. Give everyone a chance to shake their booty.”
He was smiling slightly now. With his elbows on his chair arms and his hands clasped together, he considered her over his knuckles.
“Fourth, we could set a time limit for the party, if you still want to open it to the public late in the evening. Maybe nine to midnight or eight to eleven. You decide.”
She stopped for a moment to let what she’d said sink in. Slowly, Kevin lifted his feet back to the floor. He turned his chair into the desk and leaned across the top to face her.
Chloe was taken with the maturity she now saw in Kevin’s face. During their last year at Hollington he’d been tall and thin but toned. He’d been smart and popular but never allowed his social life to take over his grades. He had a future planned, and he stayed on point. But Kevin was also known to be a serial dater, never without a girlfriend or two his entire four years of college. She counted it as astonishing that Kevin had once confused her for one of his girlfriends.
His face was a little bit long with a high forehead and a square chin. It had filled out just a bit, grown more expressive. His phase beard—just a dusting of facial hair—added an inordinate amount of masculine appeal to his brown skin, shadowy…and sexy.
Chloe remembered Kevin as being a fun-loving guy. He laughed easily and had been open, cocky and full of himself but not in an obnoxious way. Everybody liked Kevin Stayton. What was not to like?
But she could also detect that there was more caution now behind the direct gaze. It was assessing. Thoughtful. A kind of “show me” aura. Well, he was a highly successful businessman. Listening to all the facts before making a decision was part of his responsibility.
Kevin considered her for another few seconds before sitting back. He began to gently swivel his chair from side to side.
“Okay, I like the plan. There are a couple of things I want stipulated, but…”
“You’ll do it? We can use Bollito?”
He grinned. “I’m sure you didn’t come in here expecting me to say no.”
“Of course not,” she hastened to say. “But I did expect more of an argument.”
“I try not to argue about anything. Too exhausting and generally doesn’t accomplish much.”
She agreed, and nodded silently to show it.
“I’ll want a contract, of course.”
“Naturally.”
“But all in all I’m confident this can work out to everyone’s satisfaction.”
“And pleasure. I want this to be a fun evening for everyone. Memorable.”
“Hearing you talk sounds like it will be. Okay, let’s see if we can knock out the contract terms. Let me get Peg—”
“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Kevin, but I have to go.”
“Just like that? This shouldn’t take long. I’m willing to bet you’ve considered everything,” Kevin told her with a smile.
She smiled graciously. “I have other appointments.”
He pursed his lips and stood as well. “Busy lady. So when do I see you again?”
“At your convenience.”
“Dinner tonight.”
Chloe’s gaze targeted him abruptly. “What?”
“Dinner,” Kevin repeated, ignoring the surprised expression on her face. “At Bollito, if you like. I’ll show you around. You can see what you’re getting.”
“No. But thank you,” Chloe finally managed. “I do want to see the club but maybe another time. With dinner, if you insist.”
“It’s part of sealing the deal. How about breakfast tomorrow morning? Or lunch. Or dinner. That’s twenty-four hours. At some point you’ll have to stop and eat.”
Chloe moistened her lips and gave Kevin her best “let’s keep this business” look. He shrugged as if to say that he couldn’t be blamed for trying.
He gave in with a slight shrug. Bending over a desk calendar he ran his finger down a list of time slots for the next day. “I can see you at nine-thirty or eleven tomorrow morning.”
“Eleven. My office,” Chloe decided. She reached into her bag and took out a small silver case. Extracting a business card she handed it to Kevin.
Kevin was staring at her, hard and skeptical. “How did you get into the event planning business?”
Chloe smiled, not offended by his need to know. “I started out taking over the details of parties in my dorm. It spread beyond that to helping people I worked with. After graduation I spent almost five years in New York working for the wedding planner at the Plaza. What began as an internship turned into a career. I’m good at it,” she added. He arched a brow.
“Chloe Jackson,” Kevin murmured, almost to himself as he stood beside her at his office door. “The name does sound familiar. Class of 1999?”
“Yes.”
He narrowed his gaze on her. “Did we know each other?”
Chloe gave him what she hoped was a mysterious smile, one that didn’t give away any of what she was feeling or remembering.
“In a way,” she said, walking past him and out of the office.

Chapter 2
After Chloe left, Kevin leaned out his office door to speak with Peg. “Call Kyra Dixon at Hollington for me.”
He didn’t wait for his assistant’s response but returned to his office. He walked behind his desk and peered out the window, scanning up and down the street. He caught sight of Chloe as she crossed the street to a parking lot and handed over her ticket to the attendant. While she waited for her car, Kevin took his time studying her from a distance.
She was tall and slender and stylish but in an understated way. As if she didn’t want to be noticed too much, or distract from the business at hand. She had a softly curved body. No part of her rolled, or bounced, or jiggled or swished. She walked with grace, and everything about her said “lady.”
It wasn’t a term he used often for women he knew, Kevin considered dryly, which was too bad. Because he always remembered his Nana Mame telling him to honor his own self-worth, not to settle for less than he wanted or less than he deserved. Kevin always knew his grandmother’s sage advice to him had been in part to remind him that he could be much more than his own father. A self-absorbed man whose ego and libido made him irresponsible, selfish and a ne’er-do-well. He’d deserted his wife, two daughters and baby son when Kevin was barely three years old. He hadn’t seen the man more than a dozen times since.
There was a part of him that always wondered, every time his attention was drawn to any woman, what would Nana Mame think of her? But his beloved grandmother had passed away in April, leaving Kevin with an even stronger determination that he would not disappoint her. He would not let her or his mother’s expectations of him go unjustified.
He took a deep breath as his thoughts shifted back to the lovely lady waiting for her car. Chloe also didn’t fall under the glamorous, hot, booty call or babe headings. As a matter of fact, he would say that her feminine mannerisms seemed cultivated and displayed almost like a defense.
Her shoulder-length hair was combed slightly off center and fell in soft, very loose curls. She wore no makeup that he could tell but he decided that, except for maybe lip gloss or blush, Chloe Jackson didn’t need any. That made her look younger than he knew her to be. And no other women he knew would chance wearing light-colored linen at the height of a Georgia summer when the humidity promoted wrinkles, distortion and stains. Chloe was absolutely eye-catching in her dress, managing to look fresh, pulled together and in charge. If she intended her simple attire not to draw attention to herself, she failed.
She suddenly pulled out a pair of oversize sunglasses that only added to her allure. Why was she hiding? She waited patiently for her car to be brought to her, taking a quick moment to consult her PDA before dropping it back into her purse. When the car pulled up next to her, she smiled demurely at the attendant, passed him a tip and sat behind the steering wheel, swinging her long shapely legs in. The action caused her dress to hike up her thighs, and she took the time to pull it straight before closing her car door. Then she was driving out of the lot, and away.
“Chloe Jackson,” Kevin murmured again under his breath, as if saying her name out loud might conjure up some memory. If she graduated in his class he was sure the details would come to him sooner or later.
One thing he knew for certain. She was not a former girlfriend. No way would he have forgotten her. He was already wondering how he ever could have missed her on campus.
The phone rang on his desk, and he picked it up on the first ring.
“Kyra, hey. It’s Kevin Stayton. Yeah, it’s been a long time. Pretty good, and yourself? Good. Before I forget, congratulations on your appointment at Hollington. Yeah, I want to hear all about it sometime. Chloe Jackson was here. Just left.” He chuckled. “No, I can’t say that I remember her but, yeah, she got what she wanted. I didn’t put up much of a fight. Her plan was good. We’re getting together tomorrow to work out the details of the contract. Listen, I have a favor to ask.” He sat down in his chair again. “Tell me everything you know about Chloe. Who did she run with in school?”
Kevin sat back to listen, draining the rest of the mineral water Chloe had given him.

Chloe read the initialed clauses again and, finding no fault with the language, added hers next to the KS for Kevin Stayton. She signed and dated the contract at the bottom and gathered all the copies.
“That was easy,” Kevin said, sitting casually opposite Chloe at the table in her small meeting room.
“Yes, it did go well,” she sighed, finally offering a smile that indicated her satisfaction. Still she glanced at him with a bit of lingering hesitation. “Are you sure you’re okay with the club being used until 2:00 a.m.?”
“Hey. It was you who convinced me that the folks would want to party hearty till all hours. I really do want everyone to have a good time. These are our classmates,” Kevin added dramatically.
Chloe chuckled quietly. “Thanks. I’ll take the agreement over to the college later and have everything signed in the finance department. I should be able to get you your set tomorrow. Is that okay?”
Kevin pursed his lips and shrugged. “No rush. I understand you need to move forward with other arrangements, so don’t wait until I have my copy in hand. I trust you to honor what we’ve agreed to.”
Chloe glanced at him. “That’s big of you.”
“No, just smart. Neither of us wants to get bogged down in technicalities at this point. If I need to pull off the kid gloves later, I will.”
Chloe put the contracts inside a Lucite binder and stood up. “That wasn’t a threat, was it?” she asked with an expression of feigned shock.
Kevin stood as well. “No, ma’am. But business is business. Even with old college classmates.”
Chloe nodded. “Fair enough. I don’t plan on disappointing you.”
Kevin, whose expression had been one of mild amusement throughout their discussion, an indication that he was enjoying sparring with her, now studied her silently for a moment in calm appraisal.
“No. I don’t believe you will.”
Chloe realized that with their business taken care of, the discussion, their meeting, was over. She neatly organized her papers, trying to avoid looking directly at him as he silently studied her. But from the moment he’d arrived at her office he’d managed to disrupt the routine, the flow of efficiency, the very air, with his presence and friendly demeanor. He’d always been good at being the center of attention. She realized she was no less susceptible to his charm. And if she’d never lost her head when she was a young, naive coed, it certainly wasn’t going to happen now.
It began with the dropped-open-jaw staring of Lynette, the receptionist, when Kevin breezed through the double glass doors of RSVP two hours ago. Chloe had detected the stir when she’d glanced out her office at the excitement he was creating. Then her assistant, Franco, could not contain himself from rhapsodizing over one of Kevin’s cafés, a small unpretentious place called What It Is. Kevin, to his credit, had accepted the greetings with brief smiling patience, but had cut it short by announcing he was there to see her.
Chloe had to admit she’d liked that.
He was dressed comfortably in a pair of stylish Dolce & Gabanna taupe-colored slacks, worn with a black short-sleeved shirt that made him look cool and composed. And, she noticed that he was wearing those same soft leather loafers that had been discarded by his desk the day before when he’d gone out running. He still sported that unshaved, but intriguingly handsome, face from the day before as well, clearly a personal style.
“So,” Kevin said now, rubbing his hands together as he regarded her. “Are we cool?”
“I think so,” Chloe said and nodded. “I’m really grateful that you’ve agreed to this, Kevin.”
“Well, you can show your gratitude by having lunch with me.”
“Lunch?” Chloe asked blankly. The very idea created a flutter in her stomach. “Well…I…No, I don’t think so. I have work to do.”
He tilted his head and did not give the appearance of a man who’d been turned down. “You do eat, don’t you? I can see not much, but still…”
Chloe sighed, trying not to smile or be persuaded by his potent charm. “Yes, but not with clients.”
“Aah, but you see, I’m not a client. I’m a former classmate. We studied together. Rooted for the Hollington Lions together. I’m sure we even broke bread together,” he ended on a hopeful note.
She grinned at him. “Not.”
He laughed.
Chloe was about to present another excuse when Kevin suddenly turned to the door, opened it and looked out. “Good, you’re here.”
“What’s going on?” Chloe asked, suspicious.
“I had a feeling you were going to say no, so I’ve brought lunch to you. Now, you’re not going to make a fool out of me and kick me out, or sit and watch me eat alone, are you?”
“Kevin, I really think—”
“Chloe, don’t think. This is only lunch, not another contract negotiation. Now, would you like to eat here, or shall we go sit in the courtyard atrium?”
Chloe looked at him, trying to discern his game plan, trying to stop second-guessing herself. Trying to control a sudden inordinate, if cautious, pleasure that he was being so charmingly persistent. So far Kevin had given her no reason to hold him suspect, and perhaps it would be unfair to use the tabloid gossip and paparazzi exposure against him as well. Chloe had to admit, the idea of an informal surprise picnic lunch had won her over.
“Where do you want this?”
Chloe’s gaze shifted from Kevin’s questioning expression to a tall broad Black man with a shaved head who now appeared over his shoulder.
“CB.” Kevin inclined his head to indicate the man. “Ms. Chloe Jackson.”
“Ms. Jackson,” CB acknowledged formally with a slight bow.
He carried a heavy canvassed tote bag with rawhide fittings and handles that was neatly packed, the top opening covered with a cloth napkin.
Kevin wasn’t giving in. He silently raised his brows and continued to wait for her answer.
“The atrium,” Chloe said finally.
Kevin smiled, not triumphantly but with real pleasure.

Chloe had never considered sitting in the atrium of her downtown Atlanta office building before, let alone having lunch at one of the two-dozen bistro tables that dotted the flagstone deck. Even in the height of summer the area was cool and pleasant, placed among a man-made forest of trees that also provided shade. In the three years since she’d started her event and party planning business, RSVP, her time, attention and money had all gone into promoting and marketing her business, hiring talented and reliable staff. Cultivating new customers and making the right kinds of contacts. She wasn’t about to admit to Kevin that she usually combined lunch with business meetings. It saved time, the relaxed setting more conducive to people signing a contract with her. But that was hardly the case now with Kevin. Chloe was avoiding accepting the fact that she was enjoying herself.
They had just begun eating when Kevin’s cell phone chimed with a popular musical ring tone. He answered and was several sentences into his conversation when he happened to look at her. He correctly read her aloof expression.
“Listen, I’d love to catch up, but I can’t talk with you right now…I’m having lunch with a friend.” He suddenly chuckled. “No, you don’t know who it is and I’m not talking. Later.” He hung up but made no further reference to the call. He set his cell on silent after that.
She occasionally glanced around the atrium, and there were couples and groups of workers, shoppers and people just enjoying a lovely place to sit and relax. It was surprisingly quiet and each table was afforded reasonable privacy for conversation. Chloe knew that she would use the space more often in the future, even if she ate alone.
At one point she spotted a woman who was clearly out of place in the setting. Of average height, she was thin, poorly dressed in jeans and layered in sweaters. They were far too heavy for the summer heat and too oversize for her frame, as if the clothes were hand-me-downs. The woman was standing near one of the porticos of the atrium, pacing. She wasn’t bothering anyone, although she did draw curious glances with her odd appearance. Chloe herself would have given her only a passing glance, but the woman at times seemed to be staring at her.
Kevin finished his glass of iced tea, deliberately slurping the remains through the ice at the bottom. The sounds distracted Chloe back to her lunch companion. She shook her head but smiled at Kevin’s obvious attempts to get her attention.
He put his glass down and wiped his hands with one of the cloth napkins that were packed with their lunch. The delicious meal consisted of chicken salad, warm sliced sourdough bread, a container of chilled watermelon chunks and the tea, all made at Kevin’s restaurant, Flavor.
“Thank you for providing such a wonderful lunch. It was thoughtful, and everything was perfect.”
“I’m glad you liked it,” he said graciously. “Am I forgiven for tricking you into joining me?”
Chloe stirred her straw in her drink. “I have a feeling you wouldn’t have taken no for an answer. I hope I didn’t seem so disagreeable about it,” she murmured.
“Not at all. I understand that you like to keep the demarcation line clear between business and friendship. But it’s not like we’re strangers, right? This is our tenth anniversary.”
Chloe couldn’t help but laugh at his unique twist on the circumstances of their relationship.
Simultaneously they began to wrap up the remains of lunch and repack the tote bag, working smoothly together. Lunchtime was over, and the atrium was now more than half-empty. Even the curious woman had gone.
“So, who else are you recruiting to help with the October weekend, besides me and Kyra?” Kevin asked.
“Well, I’d love to have Beverly Clark ride in Sunday’s parade as the homecoming queen again, but she seems reluctant.”
“I know Beverly. She’s a lovely lady. But the last few years have been kind of rough on her.”
“Yes, so Kyra hinted. Anyway, Kyra said that she and Beverly were best friends, so maybe she can persuade Beverly to change her mind.”
“Do you remember Micah Ross?”
“Oh, yes. Micah and I were friendly in school. I was always running to him with my computer problems. And I got to hear some of his romantic woes. Poor Micah. He was so shy.”
Suddenly, CB appeared again and silently removed the tote bag that held their lunch.
“Anything else?” he asked Kevin politely.
“I’ll just be a few more minutes,” Kevin said.
CB nodded but smiled silently to Chloe before walking away carrying the bag. Chloe’s curiosity got the better of her.
“Is CB your…driver?” she guessed.
Kevin grinned but shook his head. Chloe was also aware of a light frown that momentarily passed between his brows.
“No, not my driver. CB is…I guess you can say he’s my assistant. We started out together in my first business. He showed up one day looking for work, and he was willing to do anything and help anywhere. His biggest talent is that he’s reliable, honest and discreet. He’s helped me out of some, shall we say, difficult situations.”
“I bet,” Chloe said dryly.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Kevin said smoothly. “But you’d be surprised at the kind of troubles that seem to find you when you have a business and you’ve gained some success. It’s not always pretty or fun.”
“Well, what kind of trouble?” she persisted.
Kevin hesitated. “The kind where tempers flare, voices are raised and sometimes people get arrested.”
“You’re serious?”
He lifted a corner of his mouth in a caustic smile. “Very. You know, as hard as it is to believe, there are some folks who just don’t like me.”
Chloe grinned. “I can’t imagine why not. Is CB some sort of bodyguard?” Chloe asked.
“Sometimes he’s that, too.”
Kevin was suddenly so serious that Chloe felt regret at assuming that he had somehow brought it all on himself.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said quietly.
He turned to begin walking, very slowly, back to the entrance of the building. Chloe fell into step next to him. She felt somewhat awkward being next to Kevin, because it felt almost like they could be a couple. Chloe glanced up at Kevin’s profile, and her breath caught in her throat. They seemed to share a natural stride and pacing in their walk. Even more of a surprise, against all reason and common sense, she felt…safe.
“You were asking about Micah Ross. How come?” she said, to get past the sudden silence between them.
“We’ve been in touch over the years. He’s a good guy. Did you know he’s a hotshot record producer in L.A.? Has his own label.”
“I do know that. Although we were friends at Hollington I lost touch with him in the last several years.”
“I think we should get in touch with him. He represents some of the hottest talent on the charts today. Maybe we can get him to loan us a singer or a group.”
“You mean for homecoming?”
“That’s right. I thought we could have someone appear at Saturday’s party. What do you think?”
Chloe’s eyes brightened. “Kevin, that’s such a great idea.”
“That’s all I need to hear. I’ll get in touch—”
There was a sudden flash of light. And then another. Chloe blinked and glanced around, momentarily confused. But Kevin reacted more instinctively, immediately finding the source and identifying it. Chloe quickly realized they had just been photographed.
Her first thought was one of confusion. Why would anyone be taking a photograph of her?
Kevin firmly grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the line of vision of the photographer, placing himself between them. He then put his free hand up in front of the lens.
“Hey! Back off. What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, his voice annoyed and hard.
“Come on, man. I’ve been trying to get a decent shot since last Friday night at the club. Don’t play hard to get on me now,” the young man said with a broad smile, even as he took several steps back from the tone of Kevin’s voice and still shot two more frames.
“I’m not at the club,” Kevin announced clearly. “This is private time. I don’t appreciate that you’ve been following me. And you don’t have the young lady’s permission to take her picture.”
The young man seemed unfazed. “This is a public place. You’re both fair game. New arm candy? Never seen her before.”
Chloe, more rattled than she realized by the intrusion, let Kevin handle the situation. She had no idea how she would. Kevin made sure that the photographer never got another chance to take a clear picture of her. But Chloe knew that people were staring, stopping to watch the encounter. There was no place for her to hide, except behind Kevin who still had hold of her arm. Almost as if he knew she would leave if he didn’t.
Then, she saw a now familiar figure returning to the scene. With a slow confident walk, CB approached, assessing the situation. The photographer, having gotten what he came for, turned to leave, only to find himself nearly colliding with Kevin’s assistant. Another quiet discussion ensued.
“Let’s go,” Kevin said.
With a protective arm around her waist he purposefully steered her away from the atrium where people were once again going about their business.
“What’s CB going to do? What’s going to happen?”
Kevin looked at her with an amused grin. “Don’t worry. CB is not going to touch him. I can trust him to handle the situation calmly.”
“But…”
“Chloe, I’m sorry,” Kevin said once they were inside the building near the bank of elevators.
His apology got her attention, and Chloe stood looking closely at him. She felt some of her tension drain. He looked sincere and contrite. And, in a strange way, Kevin seemed almost helpless, as if what had happened was entirely his fault, and not at all what he wanted to have happen.
“Why was he taking our picture?”
Kevin faced her and put his hands in his trouser pockets. “You don’t read the local gossip rags, do you? Or the Atlanta magazines? I’m kind of a regular in their pages. For whatever reason everything Kevin Stayton has become fair game. I’m at one of the clubs, I get photographed with friends and it ends up in print. I show up at an opening, or a sporting event, the photographers are there. It’s annoying, but it also brings in business.”
“You mean, our picture is going to be used?”
He frowned. “You sound unhappy about it.”
Chloe glanced down at her summer sandals and moistened her lips. She shook her head. “I’ll be honest. It makes me uncomfortable.”
“Why?” he asked, mystified.
“Because people will presume that they know something about me that they don’t.”
He was silent for a long moment, and when Chloe looked up again she found Kevin studying her with frowning consideration.
“Maybe I’m going overboard, but…”
He reached out and gently stroked her bare arm with his fingers. A curious warmth and reassurance spread throughout her.

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