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THE NEXT MORNING, Alejandro sat in dark slacks and a pressed white shirt in his marketing class, one of the requirements for the Executive MBA program at the University of Miami.
As usual, his gaze strayed from the professor’s scintillating discussion of economics to the profile of Kate Spinney, a fellow classmate.
Kate’s face was all angles and planes and chiseled features—like a young Katharine Hepburn. Even in her baggy, frayed khaki pants and oversize man’s blue oxford shirt, her feet stuck into beat-up, brown penny loafers, Kate was gorgeous. And as far as he could tell, completely unaware of her looks.
Penny loafers. God, they were ugly! Women in Miami did not wear such things. They wore high-heeled, strappy, sexy sandals. They wore ankle bracelets and toe rings. They did not wear men’s shoes or shapeless clothing.
But Alejandro had observed Kate for months now, and he couldn’t imagine her in sexy, strappy heels or low-slung, skintight pants that bared her belly.
When it came to fashion, she was a walking disaster, and when it came to social grace…His mouth twisted wryly. Kate certainly hadn’t been born in the South.
At the meet-and-greet cocktail party that kicked off the first semester of the program, she’d stood forlornly in her loafers, clutching a bottle of beer in her scrawny hands. She’d shredded the label using her ragged, unpolished nails within minutes, and she shook hands like a man: no nonsense, vice-like grip, brief nod and sketchy introduction. “Hi, I’m Kate Spinney from Boston.”
No, “A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” or “Nice to meet you.” Just the identifying tag and the impersonal hand-squeeze. That was Kate.
She had the intellectual capacity of a mainframe computer, and Alejandro wondered why she wasn’t studying business at Harvard or Yale or Wharton. Overall, she seemed the sort of person who belonged in Miami about as much as a hooker belonged in a convent.
He was curious; intrigued. And he didn’t know why, since his tastes in women usually ran to black hair, C-cup and size eight. Kate had springy, crazy, ginger-brown hair, tiny breasts that he’d guess were an A-minus and she’d be lucky to be a size two. In short, she was built like a string mop. And yet…he thought about her.
She wasn’t an everyday, average woman, and he’d detected a hidden sense of humor behind her Yankee reserve. Every once in a while her green eyes went warm and sparkled with a sense of the ridiculous, etching lines of sweetness around her mouth. There was more to Kate than met the eye.
He turned his attention back to Professor Kurtz, a big burly guy with small eyes in a slab of face. But Alejandro couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering back over Kate’s messy, wiry curls and the way they clung to her delicate neck.
Kurtz was waxing poetic on the intricacies of supply and demand, using a certain brand of baby lotion as an example when Kate called out, “Excuse me, but that’s incorrect.”
All eyes in the small auditorium swiveled to her, and then to Kurtz and then back to her.
The professor bristled. “What do you mean, incorrect?”
“I mean that your information is wrong. In 2002, Johnson & Johnson wasn’t even marketing that product.”
“My information is reliable.”
“Johnson didn’t put that new lotion formula onto the shelves until spring of 2003. They were still product-testing in 2002. I know this because Spinney Industries is their main competitor, and we introduced our version of that lotion in October of 2001, gaining the edge in the market.”
Kurtz blinked his small eyes rapidly. After a pause, he said, “Fine. Thank you, Miss Spinney.”
“You’re welcome. And it’s Ms., please.”
A collective rustle went through the class, some students hiding grins and snickers behind their hands. Kate appeared oblivious to this and the glare that Kurtz sent in her direction. She just swung her loafer-clad foot over her knee and bounced it gently as the lecture went on.
When she got tired of that position and put her feet flat on the ground, flexing them, Alejandro saw that the side stitching of her loafer had pulled free, leaving the sole flapping open and baring her little toe. Kate Spinney of the Spinney Industries family couldn’t afford new shoes?
Ridiculous. The watch on her wrist was Tiffany, and he’d also seen her wear a Piaget. Her purse, though it was battered and worn, was an Hermès Kelly bag, which cost thousands of dollars new.
He found the sight of her little toe oddly endearing. She propped her chin on one hand and seemed entirely unconcerned that she’d just embarrassed their professor in front of the class.
From his position in the row behind her, he could see her doodling in the margins of her yellow pad. So far he could make out a bicycle, a sailboat and a beach umbrella. Literal, no-nonsense drawings, very illustrative of Kate’s personality. He squinted to make out what she was sketching now, and chuckled when he saw a steak with eyes and legs. It looked uncannily like Professor Kurtz.
“Mr. Torres? Do you have something to add to the lecture?” the professor asked sharply.
Kate, along with a few others, turned and looked at him. So she knew who he was…He winked at her. She blinked, then raised a corner of her mouth uncertainly and turned back around.
“No, no. I just had something in my throat,” Alejo said to Kurtz. “Sorry.”
The professor pontificated some more with no further interruptions, and soon the class drew to an end. “You’ll be pairing up next week to begin the big semester project,” he told them. “So keep that in mind. And please read chapters four through seven in your text.”
Alejandro followed Kate out of the room and caught up with her easily in the hallway. “Kate? I admire you for speaking up back there.”
She turned to face him, her green eyes wary over her high, aristocratic cheekbones. “Thank you.” She edged away a couple of steps.
He closed the gap again. “I was wondering if you’d like to work together on Kurtz’s project.” He smiled down at her.
Surprise danced along those high cheekbones. Then her lips curved, and he caught a glimpse of a possible imp under her cool facade. “Are you sure you want to throw your fate in with mine? Kurtz doesn’t like me much, especially not after today.”
“I’m not worried about that. So what do you say?”
She took another step back from him, and he realized that she was used to more personal space. He didn’t move any closer this time.
“What’s your background and experience?” she asked, all business.
Now she was starting to annoy him a little. That nose in the air, her head cocked as if to use the cheekbones for weapons. “My background and experience? I’ve worked in my, uh…family business since I was about eight years old. And I have a university degree in finance.” He looked a challenge at her. “What’s yours?”
“I interned for years at Spinney Industries, worked full time there for three years. Before
