Destination Connelly by K. L. Kreig Page B

mumble, not giving that tiny squawk the time of day. I didn’t know one girl my age who even knew what golf was, let alone understood the mechanics of a proper swing.
    I rear back, striking the small white globe again, watching it sail through the air to my right, once again missing the green.
    Darn it.
    “You’re pushing it,” miss know-it-all yells, a bit closer now.
    Who the heck does this girl think she is anyway? I’ve been golfing for six years already. She probably doesn’t even know where the ball’s supposed to land, let alone what type of club I’m holding.
    “You need to close your grip just a tad and follow through with your swing. And you’re not rotating your hips and shoulders all the way,” the disembodied small voice calls again; but this time, she’s practically right behind me.
    I drop my club angrily and whirl around to meet the most striking set of blue eyes. They would hypnotize you if you stared too long. They’re attached to a tiny human being with hair so blonde it looks dipped in bleach and a face so beautiful she resembles what I imagine an angel would look like.
    “And who are you? Greg Norman?”
    “No.” She smiles like the cat that ate the canary. “Clearly I’m JoAnne Carner.”

    T hat was it . That short exchange solidified our friendship for life. That little wisp of a girl and I bonded over a love of golf and hatred of absentee fathers.
    Holding me at arm’s length, looking me up and down, Kam tells me, “You look fucking hot, woman.”
    I’m sure my blush complements my hair. I hate how easily my skin flushes bright pink. It’s hard to hide a damn thing when your body visibly betrays you. “Thanks. I’ve gained a few pounds since college, but…”
    “Girl, shut it. Any hot-blooded man would cut off his right nut at a chance to do you. Besides, you know my motto.”
    “Fuck ducks who cluck,” we both laugh in unison.
    Kamryn has always been drop-dead gorgeous, even when she was just a kid. Classic natural blonde beauty with striking eyes and curves in all the right places. But the thing I’ve always admired most about her is how she embraces who she is, flaws and all. While so many of us incessantly focus on our imperfections, she has a take-me-as-I-am-middle-finger-to-the-world attitude that I envy. I care too much what people think about sometimes.
    “Thanks for meeting me for breakfast.”
    “My pleasure. I would have been upset if you hadn’t called. So, you excited about your move to Chi-town?” Kam asks after we put in our breakfast order.
    Last week, the acquisition between Steele Executive Recruiting and Wynn was finalized, and all my hopes that this deal would fall through went up in a plume of black smoke. Carl signed, GRASCO held a special board meeting, and a few simple swipes of the pen later, SER became a wholly owned subsidiary of GRASCO Holdings. So I’m now in Chicago for a couple of days for a planning meeting at Wynn that starts at one this afternoon and doesn’t finish until tomorrow at five.
    I haven’t seen an agenda, but I have no doubt I’ll have to spend the next thirty-six hours trying to keep my libido in check, because as involved as he’s been to date, I also can’t imagine that Connelly doesn’t have his hands all over this meeting.
    “Uh…”
    “Hmm, there’s a story there. Spill.”
    “Still golfing?” I divert, squirming a bit in my chair. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Kam, judging by the wag of her perfectly sculpted eyebrows, but she doesn’t press. Yet. It’s coming, I’m sure.
    “Not as much as I’d like. Too busy with the job. We just secured a new exclusive spring line at Macy’s,” she announces as I longingly watch her bite into a flakey croissant that was delivered moments ago.
    Damn, I wish carbs didn’t have a nonstop express line right to my thighs and ass.
    “Wow, Kam. Just…wow. That’s incredible.” In addition to being extraordinarily beautiful and a junior league LPGA champion two years