In the foggy distance, Kacey could barely discern the outline of the building where she hoped to live one day. Four blocks from Leeman’s, the newly renovated 780-square-foot apartment she dreamed about would be a vast improvement over the tiny closetlike studio in Harlem where she lived now. She’d been saving for two years to make the move, and now, if all went well, her Sun Kissed line would provide a much-needed boost in her income, allowing her to lease the new apartment in mid town.
But first, she had to go to Texas, get her designs into production, then into stores. And as much as she dreaded an extended stay in a small town like Rockport, she knew the trip would be a welcome break from the damp cold of the city.
“I’ve got to remain positive,” she murmured, deciding to treat her trip like a mini-vacation, though seriously doubting she’d be able to do anything fun while she was there. After all, she was going to Texas to work, not play, and there’d be little time to fool around.
A tap at her door brought Kacey out of her thoughts. Swinging around, she waved Ariana into the room, noticing the bemused expression on her colleague’s face.
“You really impressed Steve,” Ariana informed Kacey, sliding into the chair near Kacey’s desk.
“That’s what I hoped to do,” Kacey tossed back, returning to sit in front of her computer. “I’ve been working on this project for over a year, and I knew I’d only have one shot at getting him onboard.”
“Oh, he’s definitely behind you, honey. I’ve worked with Hadley for a long time and when he called Leon Archer personally from the conference room, I knew he was eager to move this project forward. He’s sold. Don’t think he’s ever been as excited about a new line before.”
“He’s never seen swimsuits like mine before,” Kacey countered with confidence.
“You’re right about that,” Ariana agreed, crossing her long legs and tilting back in her chair. She fluffed her bleached-white hair and puckered her full pink lips, a gesture that Kacey and her coworkers often mimicked when talking about Ariana. At fifty-six, Ariana Mendio was trim, shapely and still an alarmingly attractive woman. She’d been married three times; her current husband, Tony, was sixteen years her junior. He worked as a high-end menswear model for several fashion houses, a position that got Ariana and her boy-toy into exclusive society parties quite often. “SunKissed by Kacey is so sweet it could give a woman a toothache!” Ariana exclaimed with a giggle as she flicked her long fingers in the air toward Kacey.
Kacey laughed along with her coworker, shaking her head. “I don’t plan to inflict any pain—only pleasure.”
“I don’t know. That black satin thong looked like it could put a hurting on some very tender spots.”
“Please,” Kacey shot back with a grin. “You know you’re dying to wear it. In fact, I’m gonna send you the first manufacturer sample of that style as soon as it comes out of production. Size 8, right?” Kacey lifted a brow in question, her grin widening as she watched Ariana.
“Size 6, honey,” Ariana corrected with a downward tilt of her head and a sweep of one hand over her flat stomach. “I’ve been hitting the gym with Tony.”
“And it shows,” Kacey finished, giving Ariana the compliment she’d been fishing for.
“Anyway, about SunKissed,” Ariana went on. “I stopped by to tell you that Hadley wants me to get started on the marketing plan.”
“Sounds good,” Kacey replied.
“My thought is this. We position Leeman’s as the first shopping stop that women must make before taking off on their next trip to the beach, to the pool or wherever the sun might take them. There’s a swimsuit out there for every woman…”
“But finding the right one can take a whole lot of time,” Kacey finished.
“Exactly. Shopping for swimwear can be a traumatic experience, but the eight styles offered through SunKissed by Kacey make it a snap. I’m thinking our slogan could be ‘Why Shop Anywhere Else?’”
“Why indeed?” Kacey agreed. “I love it! The bikinis, monokinis, full-coverage one-piece suits and two-piece styles offer multiple choices, especially since you can mix and match the bottoms and the tops.”
A vigorous nod of assent from Ariana. “Your styles flatter all types of figures, and they’re done in such luscious fabrics,” she praised. “Archer Industries had better do a good job for us.”
“For real. What do you know about the company?” Kacey asked, curious about where she was headed tomorrow and how she would get along with the owner.
“Only that it’s a family-owned factory…. employs most of the residents in Rockport. And in those parts…the Archer name has clout.”
“Have you ever met Mr. Archer?”
Ariana shook her head. “No, but I’ve had more than a few conversations with him. He’s a tough old bird who runs his factory with an iron fist. All about business. No warm fuzzies there.”
“Gee, thanks for the warning,” Kacey said, screwing up one side of her mouth. “Sounds like I’m in for a real test of wills—and skills.”
“Well, don’t worry too much,” Ariana replied. “As long as you show up prepared to work long hours and take orders from a persnickety old man who really can run circles around his younger employees, you’ll do fine.”
“I’d better,” Kacey murmured, beginning to feel the pressure of what she’d gotten herself into. Launching this line was a huge responsibility, and success depended on one thing: the perfect execution of her designs. Would Archer Industries deliver? Was she ready to place her future in the hands of a grumpy old man with no heart who couldn’t possibly know what women want? He may not know, but I do, Kacey affirmed, determined to gain control of the process once she arrived in Rockport.
Chapter 3
Leon Archer Jr. drove his red Corvette convertible up the semicircular driveway that swept the front of his father’s house and parked directly at the front door. Sitting back in his seat, he slid one hand over the smooth steering wheel and studied the black sedan already parked in the drive, the car that belonged to Gerald Ayers, his father’s lawyer. What was going on? Why had his father summoned him to the house?
Leon had been a bit surprised when he arrived at the factory and had seen his father’s parking spot empty. During all the years that Leon had worked at Archer Industries alongside his father, Leon Sr. had never failed to come to work by 6:00 a.m., making sure he arrived before his son or any of his employees reported for duty.
Now, curious about why his dad was still at home, Leon turned his attention to the exterior of the hacienda-style mansion that his dad and mom had built nearly forty years ago. It had twenty rooms, seven bathrooms, an Olympic-size pool, a tennis court and a newly installed outdoor kitchen that rivaled anything shown on the home and garden shows that his mother loved to watch on television. The red tile roof sloped low over a center courtyard where exotic tropical flowers bloomed year-round. In fact, Leon Archer Sr.’s home had been featured in the prestigious Southwest Homes magazine, and continued to serve as the gathering spot for many Archer Industries company parties over the years. Since a good portion of Rockport residents either worked for Archer Industries or had a family member who
