It Happened in Manhattan. Emily McKay
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in the public eye, Kitty seemed surprisingly nervous during the press conference. He doubted that anyone in the press noticed.
They stood side by side, along with Jonathon and Marty, a united front against the questions of the press. After he’d made the initial speech about FMJ’s decision to acquire Biedermann Jewelry, Jonathon had stepped forward to outline the basis of FMJ’s financial plan for Biedermann’s.
As Jonathon spoke, Ford stopped listening. It was all stuff they’d discussed before. Instead he focused his attention on Kitty. She stood beside him, dressed in a gray pin-striped dress that wrapped around her waist. It managed to mimic the feel of a business suit, but its curve-hugging lines looked outrageously feminine. Her hair fell in dark, glossy waves, shadowing one side of her face. Bright red lipstick highlighted the bow of her lips. She looked like she’d stepped out of a Maxim photo shoot. A teenage boy’s idea of how a woman should look in the workplace. A sexpot in a business suit.
Probably every man in the audience was mentally undressing her.
Hell, he wasn’t a teenager and even his body had leaped in response to the sight of her. He’d had to battle some primitive urge to drape his jacket around her shoulders and bundle her back to her office, where he could strip her dress from her body and worship her like an acolyte.
At least until he’d noticed how nervous she was. Outwardly, she seemed fine. More than fine, actually. The press no doubt saw the confident, beautiful—if a little overblown—woman that she intended for them to see. That he’d seen at first glance.
It was only at second glance that the illusion began to slip. Her smile, though open and alluring, was a little stiff. It was too unwavering. There was no play about her lips.
This wasn’t just nerves. This was perfectly contained, well-schooled nerves. This was someone who spent a great deal of time and energy learning to hide her panic.
The idea that Kitty—so composed, so polished and poised—might be fighting panic knocked him off balance. So off balance, in fact, that he let the press conference go on much longer than it should have.
Before he knew it, there was a blond reporter who looked about twenty-two saying, “Ms. Biedermann, when your father died unexpectedly last year, you were obviously woefully unprepared to take over as CEO of Biedermann Jewelry. Can you explain why you insisted on serving in a position you have neither the skill nor the training to hold? And furthermore, how do you answer allegations that it’s your gross incompetence that has led to Biedermann’s current predicament?”
Ford kept waiting for Kitty to interrupt the reporter. Sure, Kitty was obviously nervous. But he’d seen the subtle signs of nervousness from her on other occasions in which she’d gone on to cheerfully lambaste him.
From what he’d seen, Kitty never backed down from a fight and never took crap from anyone. So he was blindsided when the reporter made it past the phrase “woefully unprepared” without getting the verbal equivalent of a body slam. Why wasn’t Kitty defending herself?
By the time he heard the phrase “gross incompetence” he was done waiting for Kitty to don her own boxing gloves. He stepped up to the microphone. “If there are any signs of gross incompetence, I haven’t seen them. FMJ would not have invested this kind of money in a company whose leadership we questioned.”
“Then is FMJ merely investing in Biedermann’s?” a different reporter asked. “Or can we expect you to do your signature restructuring and complete overhaul?”
“We’ll be announcing some very exciting things for the stores soon.” He flashed his best charming smile. “I promise you this, within a year everyone in this room will be shopping at Biedermann’s.”
“And about rumors that this acquisition is fueled by a romantic relationship between you and Ms. Biedermann?” This question was again from the annoying blond.
Ford shot Kitty a glance to see if she was finally going to light into the woman, only to see Kitty still had that deer-in-the-headlights look.
So he ducked his head and gave the reporters his most boyishly mischievous smile. “Well, you found me out. This is all just a ruse to ask Kitty Biedermann out on a date. I figured a techie geek from California like me wouldn’t have a shot with a blue blood like Kitty Biedermann. Hell, I couldn’t even get her to return my phone calls before.” A chuckle rumbled through the audience of reporters. “But seriously, my relationship with Ms. Biedermann is purely professional. On my first night in town she took pity on me and allowed me to accompany her to the Children’s Medical Foundation fundraiser. We attended as business colleagues.”
“So you’re not the father of her baby?”
“Ms. Biedermann’s personal life is a private matter. Let’s keep this about business.”
And with that, Jonathon took the cue to wrap up the press conference. A few minutes later, Ford guided Kitty out the room and whisked her up to her office. By the time he had her alone, his shock had given way to anger.
“What the hell was that?” he asked even as he slammed the door shut behind them.
She spun around, her eyes wide. “What?”
“The way you behaved out there with the press.
That’s what.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” she stammered.
She pressed a palm to her stomach as if to still the fluttering in her belly. He grabbed her by the wrist and held her hand out between them. “Look at you. You’re shaking.”
She jerked her hand away and thrust it behind her back. “So what if I am? Those things make me nervous.”
“Yeah. I noticed. But that’s no excuse for letting that reporter walk all over you.”
Kitty glared at him. “What was I supposed to do?”
“You were supposed to defend yourself.”
“How could I defend myself? She was badgering me with questions. There was nothing I could do.”
“Kitty, I’ve watched you go toe-to-toe with a drunken rancher twice your size. Hell, every time we meet you try to rip me a new one. You know how to hold your own in a fight. That ninety-pound reporter shouldn’t have had a chance.”
She turned away, obviously searching for an explanation that would placate him. Finally she said simply, “That reporter was telling the truth.”
“About us?” he asked. “We agreed what happened between us is nobody’s business but our own. If you had a problem lying in a press conference, you should have told me that before—”
“Not about us,” she interrupted. “About me.” Again she turned away from him, but this time he sensed it was because she couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze. “All those things she said about me were true.”
“Kitty—”
“About me being ‘woefully unprepared.’” There was a disparaging sneer in her voice. “About my gross incompetence. It’s all true.”
He stared at the stiff lines of her back, barely comprehending her words. She looked like someone waiting to be hit.
For a moment he could only stare at her while he sorted through his confusion. “What do you mean? You’re not incompetent.”
“You only think that because I do such a good job hiding it. But I don’t know what I’m doing. I wasn’t prepared to run Biedermann’s. The board never should have named me CEO.”
“Kitty, being a CEO is a difficult job. People are rarely prepared for it. In your situation it was worse because your father’s death was so unexpected and you were grieving for him. I’m sure it feels overwhelming. But that doesn’t make you incompetent.”
She glanced over her shoulder, sending him a watery smile. Where those tears in her eyes?
“You’re