Chapter Four
She was serious. She was dead-ass serious, and Shane didn’t know whether to throw his head back with a hoot of laughter or kiss her on the mouth, because the idea was hilarious and she was…sexy. Confident. Smart. And sexy.
Considering how badly he wanted to undress her with his eyes while she spoke, he couldn’t get down to imaginary underwear, because the idea was so damn good he actually had to pay attention.
And now, all around him, the outburst around a table full of opinionated people who were arguably some of the town’s biggest movers and shakers filled the room. The divide was easy to see and evident by the questions and comments.
“You can’t change the name of a town that’s about to celebrate its 150th Founder’s Day!” sourpuss Nellie Shaker predictably squeaked out. She’d never shaken anything in her life, Shane thought, and wouldn’t start now.
“That is the most inventive thing I’ve ever heard!” Andi may have smashed his brother’s heart a while back, but she was cut from the same intelligent, professional cloth that Chloe was wrapped in.
“Inventive? Try ridiculous!” the news guy, Chandler, balked. “We’d change the name to the Better Bark Banner? Next you’ll suggest editorials written from a dog’s perspective.”
Chloe brightened, unfazed by the criticism. “I love that idea, Ned.”
“Well, I’m not going to be Better Bark Body and Mind,” Jeannie Slattery snorted. “Unless I add dog grooming to my services.”
“You might consider that and double your business,” Chloe replied with a dazzling smile. She let the reaction die down, then placed her fingertips on the conference table and leaned a little closer to pin them with her sparkly ebony gaze.
Shane let his attention slip down to see how nicely her top clung to her figure under that white jacket, appreciating her long, thick ponytail the color of a freshly washed chocolate Labrador spilling over a shoulder. Everything about her was clean, crisp, orderly, and hot.
Oh, he would have so much fun undoing that hair and getting her out of her flawless white clothes and making her all messy and sweaty and—
“Ladies and gentlemen, will you please hear me out?” she asked, pulling him out of his fantasies.
“What kind of town changes its name?” Easterbrook demanded.
“A smart one,” Chloe replied. “There’s plenty of precedence of small towns who changed their name for a day or a month or a year, including Joe, Montana, to capitalize on a celebrity. Some have changed their name permanently, like North Tarrytown, New York, when they embraced a famous local legend and become Sleepy Hollow back in the 1990s. Check the record, because the economic lift to that community was tangible.”
A few responses, some harrumphing, and the mayor tapped her hand as if it were a gavel. “We asked for a great idea,” Blanche Wilkins said loudly. “So let’s give her a chance to explain what she’s thinking.”
After a moment, the room grew silent again, all eyes on a woman who…had a pair. And Shane didn’t mean the lovely breasts he was sneaking peeks at. Sure, she had big brown eyes and an angel’s face and pouty lips that tasted like cotton candy. But that was only packaging. Chloe Somerset was no pushover and, whoa, he liked that in a woman.
It would make sex all that much sweeter.
She crossed her arms and started walking around the room as she talked, a technique that forced their gazes to follow her and one he’d learned years ago when he cleaned up in law school mock trials.
“When I heard there was a world-class dog training facility here,” she said with a slight nod to Shane, “I admit that’s where I got the idea.”
Credit to him, he noted.
“And from there, the ideas rolled. There is no town in America like this, nowhere that could attract families for fun and activities that also includes this very key member of so many families in our country. Hear me out.”
Back at her computer, she clicked to the next slide, one that he was quite familiar with: dog ownership in the United States.
“Over seventy million dogs in this country. Thirty-seven percent of homes have at least one, many have two dogs or more. Services for dogs are growing at an astronomical rate. And look at this.” She clicked again and literally buried them in statistics he already knew.
Before they could breathe, she moved to the next set of statistics: family vacations. She obviously knew her stuff, snapping slide after slide and making her argument with such skill, he could practically feel the room shift in her favor. How many families would take a vacation to a new place if they were comfortable bringing the dog?
And, she added, celebrating the dog. “Because Better Bark won’t just be dog-friendly,” she added. “We’ll be dog-focused.”
She flashed picture after doctored-up picture of local businesses in the new section of town, all of the signs changed from Bitter Bark to Better Bark. She’d used photo-altering software to show where there could be “dog resting” stations, changes to the local parks, and even special “leave your leash” poles.
“Just think of the possibilities,” she said with infectious enthusiasm. “Nothing brings in families like festivals and events. The towns you all want to emulate, like Asheville and Boone and Blowing Rock, all have jazz concerts, art festivals, 10Ks, and wine tastings. I’m proposing a year-round calendar of special events that all—every single one—have an emphasis on the universal love of dogs.”
“Like a pooping contest in Bushrod Square?” Jeannie pushed back a lock of fake red hair, and most of the table, including Shane, shot her a look of disgust.
But cool-as-a-cucumber Chloe barely flinched.
Instead, she clicked to a slide of a giant twelve-month calendar, a different event highlighted in each month.
“The Better Bark Dog Show that’s a sort of mini-Westminster,” she said, gesturing to the slide. “Then we’ll have a Bark in the Park art festival that features paintings, sculptures, and artwork of dogs. There will be Woofstock, our outdoor doggie concert. We’ve got the Doggie Olympics, a Bow Wow Beauty Contest, a 10K Run for the Rescues, and…” She pointed to December. “Santa Paws, a special adoption day just in time to have a new face in the family photo on Christmas morning.”
Shane felt his jaw drop a little. This was friggin’ brilliant. Every single person at Waterford Farm would love this…along with every single dog.
“Who’s going to pay for all this?” Ned, the news guy, demanded.
“Sponsors like pet-supply makers and pet superstores and tourists.” Chloe tilted her head as if that were obvious. “Lots and lots and lots of tourists.”
“It’s too much,” the always-fun undertaker, Mitch, groaned. “A little dog thing, okay, one annual event. Anything else is going to alienate the people who don’t like dogs.”
“Then let them go to Asheville or Boone,” Chloe replied. “If we only get the families who have dogs to bring on vacation, we’ll have more tourism business than we can handle.”
So deft, using the corporate we, Shane thought. And she was right.
“I believe in this idea.” Chloe leaned her fingertips on the table and stared Mitch in the eye. “I have created and run many successful tourism campaigns, and I know what builds visitors. This will work. I absolutely guarantee it.”
Before they could respond to that declaration, she clicked to the next slide, this one detailing a national publicity campaign that included every imaginable form of media and how they would cover the story of a town so devoted to dogs that it changed its name.
She finished with a banner over the face of a ridiculously cute pug that said, “Hot diggity dog! Let’s go to Better Bark!”
And every single person in the room sat in dead, stunned silence, flattened by the bulldozer that was Chloe Somerset and her ideas.
Including Shane. He’d listened, holding her little white business card in his hand, running his fingers over the raised letters the way he wanted to run them over her body. Slowly, carefully, and with great admiration.
She finished, closed her laptop, and sat quietly, looking from one to the other. “Any questions, ladies and gentlemen?”
“Yes,” Jane Gruen said. “How quickly can we do this so I can get my B&B certified for dogs and advertise it?”
“You’d let dogs in the Bitter Bark Bed & Breakfast?” Ned shot back. “They’d chew up the furniture and piss on the rugs.”
“Hang on.” Blanche raised a hand as if she had to be the voice of reason. “A change of town name would require first an advisory committee vote, then if it passed, it would have to be taken to the town council for a hearing that allowed for debate from business owners and locals and, finally, a full citizens’ vote. I’d have to look at the bylaws, but a name change is not something that can be done in this room, obviously. But we can take an initial committee vote.”
“We don’t have to vote.” Mitch leaned forward. “This is a waste of time and will never pass.”
“What?” Andi’s jaw dropped. “This is the single most exciting idea I’ve ever heard.”
“Forget the dogs.” The librarian, Nellie, cleared her throat, fighting for their attention, color rising when she got it. “This town was founded in 1867 by Thaddeus Ambrose Bushrod. He named it after the tree that sits at the heart of the entire community. You can’t change history.”
Every eye in the room shifted to Chloe, waiting for her to volley back.
“Then you better change the tree.” She crossed her arms and leaned forward. “Because that one is a hickory tree.”
That caused another little uproar, but not from Nervous Nellie. She nodded repeatedly. “That’s true. It may be that Captain Bushrod was mistaken about the tree. But he thought it was a bitter bark, and he named the town after that tree.”
“Bitter bark is actually a shrub with wonderful medicinal uses,” Chloe said. “If it would make you feel better, we could plant some all over the square and call it Better Bark.”
That caused another round of arguments that Chloe silenced by holding her hands up. “Please, think of the publicity if we rename this town a hundred and fifty years after its founding…with a hundred and fifty dogs in the square,” she added, her voice rising as if she just had a new idea. “The Barkiversary!”
Shane gave a soft hoot and clapped. “Damn, you’re good.”
“Well, of course you’re all for this,” Jeannie Slattery hissed at him. “Waterford Farm would only benefit financially. I suspect you’re behind this whole thing, frankly. Tourists all coming in and going to see your place. It would build your business.”
“It would build everyone’s business,” Andi Rivers chimed in. “That’s the whole idea, Jeannie. It differentiates us in a way that no one ever dreamed of.” She beamed at Chloe. “My head is spinning with ideas that we could incorporate into the next phase of development.”
“That phase is on hold,” Dave Ashland chimed in. “I’ve been texting James Fisker, who owns a little over twenty-five percent of Bushrod Square, and he’s not ready to develop anything with property values as low as they are.”
“But values can only go up if we’re wall-to-wall with tourists,” Blanche retorted. “We can’t do anything if we don’t do anything.”
The pithy phrase got everyone mumbling and made Chloe beam at the mayor. “Exactly,” she agreed.
“Wait, wait, wait.” Easterbrook stood to take over the conversation. “I speak as the representative of the family that’s been burying Bitter Barkers for five generations.” He leveled a gaze at Chloe. “An Easterbrook put Thaddeus Bushrod in the ground under that tree.”
“That hickory tree,” she said softly.
He looked like he wanted to bury her. “We need to vote,” he said, adjusting the sleek tie that added to his tall and commanding presence. “By secret ballot, so there are no hurt feelings and no lobbying one way or another. Before we spend one more moment of our short and precious lives on something that will either turn everything upside down or become a distant memory. Every single one of us in this room, except you, Miss Somerset, needs to cast a yes or no vote. From there, we’ll either take it to the town council or ask our esteemed specialist to return to her drawing board for more ideas.”
Shane saw her shoulders sink a little at that possibility.
“Are we voting on the concept or the name change?” the librarian asked. “Because we could be dog-friendly without a ridiculous new name.”
No doubt where Nellie stood.
“Yes, the concept would work without the name change,” Chloe said. “But then you have no hook. No promise to the guest. No way to generate national news coverage, and I do mean a few minutes on CNN and at least an hour-long special on Animal Planet.”
A few people leaned forward, like hooked fish.
“Animal Planet?”
“National news?”
“A promise to the guests,” Jane Gruen cooed. “I love that concept.”
Chloe nodded. “A promise is critical, Jane. It’s at the heart of every tourism campaign, and I believe the name of Better Bark does that.”
“We should keep the name,” Chandler insisted. “The dog thing’s a cute idea, and we still have ‘bark’ in the name.”
“Bitter,” Chloe replied. “Bitter is not better. It is a word that, by its very definition, is not friendly. It’s hurting the town, in my professional opinion.”
The statement, which had to have some basis in truth, silenced them all.
“That’s what makes the whole idea a winner,” Chloe continued when no one argued. “Anyone can say they are dog-friendly and have a few hotels or restaurants that welcome dogs, but I’m proposing you restructure this entire city around the universal love of dogs, and that starts with a name change.”
“Then we’ll vote by secret ballot,” Blanche said, standing up. “I’ll get my assistant to bring in ballots and a box. Chloe, will you step outside for a few moments?”
“Of course.” She stood and shot one more warm smile at everyone in the room. “I want to remind you that I have created winning tourism campaigns for dozens of cities and a few countries. I know this will work. I am one hundred percent confident that within one year of implementing this change, tourism will increase by a thousand percent. Asheville will be scratching their head about how to compete.”
On that, she left, and every person in the room—including Shane—watched her in wonder.
He was so attracted to her, it hurt.
Which made him certain he knew exactly how to vote.
* * *
When Chloe walked back into the conference room not ten minutes later, the adrenaline that had dumped through her veins after that presentation had finally settled to a low-grade tension that hummed through her.
She knew this would work. She had complete confidence in the idea and absolutely would bet everything she had that this idea would increase visitors to the town and help the local economy. And Aunt Blanche’s job would be safe, and Uncle Frank’s legacy intact.
But would they go for it?
Sure, a few of them would be old school and stick to the name of the town because they were distantly related to the founder or didn’t care that the place was named after the wrong tree. But if they were truly the business professionals who cared about the growth and success of their companies, then they should recognize that this was a great idea.
Especially Shane, who’d been unexpectedly quiet during the presentation and discussions.
Stealing a glance at him as she sat down, she still wasn’t able to read his expression. There was a warm glimmer of a tease in eyes that looked more green in this light and the slightest secret smile.
“The votes have been cast,” Aunt Blanche announced, pointing to a covered box in the middle of the table. “Chloe, since you didn’t vote, will you read them for the record?”
“Of course.”
They slid the box toward her end of the table, and she stood, letting out a little exhale of nerves and excitement. “Is there anything formal that has to be done or said?” she asked.
“Just show us each vote,” Ned said, as if she would stand there and lie to them.
She didn’t dignify that with a response.
“Nothing special for an advisory committee,” Blanche assured her. “This is merely step one to see if we will proceed. If this group votes for the idea, then we’ll create a plan to take the concept to the town council. If the vote is against it, we’ll table the discussion and ask that you come up with something different.”
“Okay.” Except something different wouldn’t work as well. Taking the lid off the box, she leaned over to folded slips of paper, all the same.
She took out the first one and opened it. “Yes.” She resisted the urge to add a slightly snarky smile as she turned the paper and showed it to Ned. Then she opened another. “Yes.”
This time she bit her lip to keep from smiling.
The next one was a “no” and then another “yes.”
“We are three to one for the yeses,” Blanche said, a bubble of excitement in her voice. “When we reach five for one or the other, there’s no need to continue to count.”
Chloe gave her aunt a grateful look, touched by the support. “Okay,” she said, opening the next slip of paper. “It’s a no.”
Three to two.
And the next one. “Another no.”
Tied at three all. Chloe exhaled softly, but it sounded loud in the quiet room. She’d really expected more support from this group of professionals.
Certain they could all hear her heart pound, she reached into the box.
“Another no,” she said, and it was impossible to hide the disappointment.
“That’s four no’s,” the undertaker said firmly.
“One more, and we can be done with this,” Ned added. “I have a deadline to meet for the Banner.” He cleared his throat. “The Bitter Bark Banner.”
There were two slips of paper left. She opened one, and her heart kicked as she read it. “Yes.”
Not a single person in the room moved or breathed, the tension palpable in the thick silence of the dead tie of four to four.
“Okay,” Chloe whispered. “Last one,” she said, closing her fingers around it.
“Read it,” Nellie insisted, leaning all the way forward.
She opened it and blinked, stunned. “Abstain.”
“Abstain?” The echo came from at least five people in the room, two immediately on their feet.
She turned the paper to show them all. “Abstain.”
“Who abstained?” Ned Chandler insisted.
“It’s a secret ballot,” Blanche reminded him.
“What do we do?” Andi asked, her frustration as evident as everyone else’s.
“Let’s break for lunch,” Blanche suggested, the idea like a bucket of cold water on them. “We all need a little time to think about this, talk to each other, and come back and revote.”
What they needed was to know who abstained and why so Chloe could work to change that person’s mind.
“I think a break is a great idea,” Chloe agreed, hoping it would give her a chance for private conversations. “And I’m available to answer any questions or offer additional information if you need it.”
“We don’t need it,” Ned grumbled.
“We need lunch,” Undertaker Mitch said, putting his hand on Ned’s shoulder. “Let’s go get a bite and talk about this. Jeannie, join us, hon.”
Oh, that wasn’t good.
“Of course.” She smoothed her hair and looked at Nellie. “Make it a foursome and come with us.”
No one else was invited to that party as the four of them walked out, leaving Chloe to assume they were the four nays. And unless she tagged along, she wasn’t going to be changing their minds.
“Blanche, take me to an empty office so I can get some work done,” Dave, the real estate broker, said. “I have more important things to do than chat about this.” As he stood, he looked at Chloe. “If you ever give up marketing, I’ll give you a job.”
She nodded thanks as he and Blanche walked out, followed by Andi and Jane, who were deep in discussion.
“And that leaves us,” Shane, who hadn’t moved from his chair, said softly.
On a sigh, she sat back down and started to drop her chin into her hands, but stopped herself. Instead, she reached into her bag and grabbed the hand sani to squirt it on the palms that shook so many hands today.
“Well, I never saw that coming,” she mused aloud as she rubbed.
“I gotta know something, Perfect Chloe.”
She sliced him with a look. “Don’t push your luck, Counselor.”
“Aww. The other night it was Dirty Shame.”
“The other night you were…a guy who fixed broken stuff in the back of the bar.”
“Do you like me more or less now?”
“I don’t recall ever saying I liked you at all.”
He laughed. “But you have to answer my question.”
She waited, studying him, hating the so completely female response that zinged through her as every hormone in her body perked up the very moment they were alone.
“What breed?”
She frowned, not following the question at all.
“Or is it just a sweet little mutt?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your dog.”
“I don’t own a…” Oh, she’d walked right into that one.
He leaned right in, reminding her very much of a lawyer who’d made his point to the judge and jury. “So you don’t like dogs.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“You didn’t say anything about your father being Daniel Kilcannon.”
“I didn’t have to.”
She launched a brow. “Technicality, Counselor.”
“Have you ever even owned a dog?” he asked.
“No.”
He exhaled slowly and geared up for the next cross-examination, but she cut him off. “I don’t like shrimp, either, but I promoted Louisiana.”
“Not even shrimp scampi?”
“I’m not a huge fan of the beach, but that didn’t stop me from increasing tourism in the Bahamas by 38.4 percent in one year.”
He choked softly. “Who isn’t a fan of the beach?”
“Too much sand,” she said. “It gets everywhere, and you can’t get it off you.”
“Plus all those waves that won’t do your bidding,” he joked.
“And not once in my entire life have I gotten on a pair of skis, but I singlehandedly turned Mount Ward into the ultimate winter-break destination for college students, adding millions to that town’s coffers. I know this will work, Shane.”
“But dogs are personal.”
And dogs were not her personal thing and never would be. “I travel too much to have a pet. That doesn’t affect my ability to come up with great ideas—”
“That I supplied.”
She gave a dry laugh. “Yes, oh, great and powerful Shane Kilcannon. You inspired me.”
He got even closer. “I kissed you.”
“You certainly did.” She inched toward him, just to let him know he didn’t intimidate her. Much. “And I’d rather that didn’t get all over town too fast.”
He studied her for a minute, amusement in his eyes. “So letting me take you to lunch would be a conflict of interest.”
“You’re the lawyer, you tell me.”
“I’m conflicted and I’m definitely interested, so yes. But I still want to take you to lunch.”
She held his gaze, feeling the pulse in her neck thrum a steady beat and the palms of her hands dampen and that low burn in her belly that had nothing to do with hunger. At least not for lunch.
“Depends,” she finally said. “How’d you vote?”
“I didn’t vote yes.”
Her jaw unhinged.
“And I didn’t vote no.”
Leaning back, she let that sink in. He was the abstaining vote. Why? “Then, by all means, let’s have lunch.”
He inched closer and ran a light finger over her knuckles. “Is that the only reason?”
God, no. “I’ll abstain from answering that.”
He smiled at her. “I like you, Perfect Chloe. Never liked a woman who didn’t like dogs, though.”
“I guess there’s a first for everything.”