Chapter 2

“I want you to handle the account.” Babs Myrie sailed into her office with her usual dramatic flair and went right over to the refreshment table to pour a large cup of coffee. Bringing it with her, she sat down on a chair in front of the lacquered desk and stared at the younger woman with light blue eyes made bright by excitement.

“What account?” Collette was more than a little distracted. It was almost a week since her sister had reached out to her and she had called several times afterward.

“Good God, girl!” Babs made an impatient movement with one hand. “Where have you been for the past few days? We are pitching for Richard McBride’s enormous accounts. He just fired his advertising agency, and we are in the running for the job.

I don’t need to tell you what a coup that would be. The man is huge! His singers are in the number one slot in most of the genres. He has more money than most people, and he is hot.”

Collette looked over at her friend and boss with an arching of her tapered brows. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Honey, you might be the ice queen, but I am not. The man has a body that looks as if it had been molded by some benevolent god and I hear his sex life is legendary.”

Collette’s lips curled in distaste. “Can we get back to the topic at hand? And as much as I would love to handle that much business, I am currently swamped.”

“Get un-swamped.” Babs had that determined look on her plain face which warned that this was not a request. “You are the best we have, and that man needs to be handled with kid gloves.

He fired the other firm because of incompetence and lack of vision as I was told, so we have to come up with something creative. He wants the creative part of his holdings to be the focus.

His singers are shooting up the charts and taking away most of the awards. We need something to keep the public focused on what is happening with the man and his works. Everything he touches turns to pure gold. He has turned the music industry on its head.

He is still in the business of rooting out the unknown and mostly invisible and giving them a name.” Babs took a healthy swig of the brew and swallowed before resuming. “He is a legend who has made a name for himself.”

“It sounds like he doesn’t need additional boosting.” Collette pointed out, earning a glare from the other woman.

“Honey, everyone needs boosting, and acquiring an account like that is going to ensure that we are in the red for years to come.

Make up a package, come up with some ideas as to how we should handle his account. He has agreed to take half an hour out of his very busy schedule to meet with you–”She consulted the garish watch on her wrist. “An hour.”

It was Collette's time to glare at her. “Excuse me, for a minute, I thought you said an hour. But that could not be because I would need time to familiarize myself with the account and come up with several ideas–”

“Your very efficient assistant has done most of the work for you.” As if by cue, Karen hurried into the office and placed a thick folder on her desk, an apologetic look on her face.

“Everything you need to know about the man and his work and several suggestions on how to go about wooing him.” She hurried back out to answer the constantly ringing phone.

“I will leave you to it then. Oh, you are meeting with him at his office. The address is inside the folder as well.” She left, taking the mug with her and closing the door behind her.

Sitting back in the chair, Collette gave the closed door an angry look and took a deep breath. She hated being ambushed like this, but the truth was that she loved a challenge, and everyone who worked with her knew it. Huffing out a breath, she reached for the folder and opened it.

The first thing that caught her gaze was the man himself. Karen had done her research and included a glossy 8’x10’ photo of the music mogul. He was unsmiling as if he had been forced to take the photo under duress.

There was even a frown marring his brow.

His hair was thick and ruthlessly styled, with not one strand out of place. His eyes were a startling green that reminded her of an emerald stone she had seen in her favorite jewelry store. His lips were stern, the bottom one slightly fuller than the top. He had a slight cleft in his square, determined chin.

Putting away the photo, she studied the rest of the documents and, within minutes, found herself immersed in the material.

He was from a family of lawyers that had been in existence for more than a century, and even though he had a law degree from a prestigious law school, he had chosen to go in another direction altogether. That must have taken courage, Collette thought absently.

Not only had he chosen a career outside of his sphere, but he had made a success of it. The law firm was still in operation and was doing very well, and he was on the board of the firm that still has his name, or rather, the name of his family. He had also widened his holdings to include real estate, among other things.

He had been featured in several magazines and seen with several high-profile women, but he was unmarried. She had the fleeting thought that he was like her, but not really. It also says he was a bachelor by design. She had not chosen spinsterhood. She even hated the term.

Closing the folder way with a snap, she simmered in distress at the limited time she had been given to be prepared and set about doing so.

*****

Inside his office, Richard pulled out the folder his very efficient assistant had placed on his desk and opened the third one. He had discarded the first two with barely a glance at the contents.

He had fired his advertising agency because they lacked creativity and were more concerned about gaining his approval than getting the job done. He did not want ass-kissers, he wanted people who could give him it to him straight.

Rodney, his assistant, had reminded him how intimidating he was, and he had sent the man a baleful look that had him scurrying out.

Her glossy photo stared up at him and had him going still. It was the woman who had caught his attention at the restaurant a few days ago. What were the odds of that happening? He wondered as he continued to stare at the photo.

Close up, there were no flaws on her caramel skin and the photographer had been close enough to capture the texture and tone of her flesh. Her eyes were large and dark and unsmiling. Her lips—he felt a jolt as he stared at the glossy coated lips.

There was an air of haunting sadness about her. He had a gift. He could size up a person in one look. Just like he had an ear for unusual talent, he had an uncanny ability to tell when a person was being genuine or just playing at it.

Tapping his finger on the photo, he continued to give it his attention before leafing through the pages. He believed in being prepared, and in his line of work, he couldn’t afford any surprises. So, he had dug deep, and his investigator had come up with the whole package.

Christ! No wonder she looked so sad. She had been jilted at the altar, the asshole leaving her for her own sister. He felt an unaccountable rage and wanted to find the prick and nail his ass to the wall. Who the hell does that?

And she was single. No surprise there. After going through an ordeal like that, she would be reluctant to trust anyone again. Somehow, that bothered him.

Closing the folder, he picked up the paperweight and rolled it around in his palm. He wasn’t going to base his decision on her looks or what he was feeling, of course. With that in mind, he prepared for the meeting.

*****

Collette was too good at her job to ever show nerves. But then again, this was the first time she had ever been asked to woo anyone of this magnitude.

Babs had eyed her critically and asked if she was sure she could do this, to which she had responded in a cool and forced calm voice if she wanted to appoint someone else.

“Hell, no. You are the most appropriate. At least I know you are not going to go into that man’s office and try and seduce him.”

Collette had glared at her offensively.

She had soberly reminded Collette how much they needed to land this very lucrative account. “If you manage to come back with a contract, I am going to take you to lunch at that posh restaurant, Takahashi’s, that just opened on Dupont Street.”

“I doubt you would be able to get reservations.”

“I have my ways,” she had responded loftily.

Now exiting her vehicle inside the large parking lot, she took stock of the towering glass building and felt the mounting apprehension. She had come armed with her ideas and while inside her office, it had all looked perfect on paper, but now that she was here, she was wondering if it was even adequate.

She could blame Babs for putting her on the spot and not giving her enough time, but the truth was that she was now acutely aware that she would be facing a giant. And like the story in the Bible, she felt like David about to face Goliath.

But David won that round. A voice reminded her and gave her the impetus to move toward the revolving glass doors.

Instead of a reception area, there was a glossy arc manned by two burly looking men, leaving her in no doubt that they were not merely there to answer the phones. High above, in raised blue and gold letters, the name: McBride Productions was mounted. One of the two men looked up and beckoned her closer.

“You are expected, Ms. Sutherland.” His voice was courteous, light blue eyes watching her like a hawk. “Please proceed to the left and place your bag on the machine.”

She supposed that a place like this would have precautions against the many crazies who would like to storm the building. With that in mind, she did as she was told and watched as her things went through an X-ray machine.

“The elevator is to your right and will take you straight up to Mr. McBride’s office.” The second man informed her. “He is expecting you.”

Slinging her tote over her shoulder and claiming her briefcase with her notes and portfolio, she punched the button and tried not to look out of place and was awed by the sheer opulence.

The car whizzed her up, and before she could catch her breath, it opened into a wide hallway with the trademark blue and gold décor. It was almost the end of the workday, and the staff was skeletal. She knew that he had his recording studio here as well, but figured it would be on the ground floor.

She had no sooner stepped out of the car when a fashionably dressed man with a golden tan and honey-blonde hair stepped out of a suite of offices, a pleasant smile on his face. He was impossibly beautiful and so poised; she could not believe he was real.

“My name is Rodney; you may come straight in.” He stepped back to allow her entry. “I am Mr. McBride’s assistant. Would you like something to drink?”

The outer office was plush and three times the size of hers. His desk was wide and polished with all the modern devices available. There was a refreshment table in one corner of the room. She belatedly realized that he was waiting for her response.

“Er- No, thank you.”

“This way please.” He led the way to a set of double doors that could be described as aged brandy in color. They were partially open, allowing her to catch a glimpse of the tall man standing behind the desk. His teal blue shirt was rolled up at the sleeves all the way to the elbows and he was staring at something on his laptop.

“Boss–”

“Close the doors and you may leave.”

“Of course.”

He didn’t look up, not even when the doors were closed, and Collette was left standing there in the largest and most opulently furnished office she had ever seen.

A huge fireplace took up one wall, and the others were dominated by glossy windows. The carpet was pale gold and swallowed her feet past the ankles. It simply took her breath away. The chairs facing his desk were padded.

She was standing there undecided when he looked up and pinned her with his hard emerald green eyes. His gaze settled on her for a few pulsing minutes before jerking his head toward one of the chairs. He settled behind his desk and stared at her for a few more seconds before speaking.

“Did my assistant offer you something to drink?” His voice was deep and distinguished

“Yes. I told him no.” She fiddled with her bag and then her folder and forced herself to relax. “I have some ideas–”

“Bring the folder.” His voice was abrupt and had her lifting her head to stare at him.

“It’s in the embryonic stages. I only got the message earlier today–”She stopped as she brought the folder and placed it in front of him.

She stood there for a minute while he glanced over her typed notes. Backing up, she sat back down, her hands clasped in front of her. And waited while he read everything.

She would have preferred to outline her strategy in her own words and was not quite sure how to handle this.

Finally, he closed the folder and settled back against his chair. His expression had not changed, giving no indication if he was pleased or unimpressed by her ideas.

“You did your homework.”

His comment surprised her and had her blinking.

“Yes.”

“I like the ideas.”

She heaved out a breath and could have sworn that there was a look of amusement in his eyes.

“I have others–”

“I have specific ones myself. The other ad agency was not up to par.” He pinned her with his gaze again. Picking up the paperweight, he rolled it around in his palm as he outlined what he wanted.

What he was saying to her was most of what was listed in her report. She had done her research and was to be commended for doing a very good job for such a short time. He was impressed, but his expression did not reveal it.

He was watching her as he made his speech, and not for the first time, he noticed the way her sweater molded her bosom.

Her complexion was flawless, and she was much more attractive in person. He knew her to be only three years younger than he was, but she looked like she was in her thirties. Her hair was in a tidy bun at the nape of her neck, and she wasn’t wearing much makeup.

He was attracted to her and it confused him. He was a man in his forties and could more or less have any woman he wanted to, but he was feeling a definite pull toward the one seated across from him. Pushing back his chair, he rose abruptly and went over to a cabinet hidden by pale gold wallpaper and touched a button.

“Are you sure I cannot change your mind about a drink?

He turned his head to look at her and caught the flick of her tongue against her bottom lip. Lust surged hot and heavy in his loins and staggered him.

“No.”

Turning back around and swearing silently, he splashed golden liquid into the snifter and excluded the ice. He was going to have to stay the night here if he continued like this, but he needed the drink.

And he had to wait a minute before walking back across the room. He had removed his jacket, so there was nothing to cover the evidence of his arousal.

Tossing back the drink, he relished the burning sensation sliding into his gut and poured another. As soon as he was certain he would not disgrace himself, he walked the distance to his desk and sat back down.

“Anything else?” his voice was unnaturally curt, but he wanted her out of his office.

“No.” She lifted her chin as if his tone had offended her. “I will leave the notes with you, of course. I just want to say that we would relish the opportunity to represent your company.”

His thick, dark brows lifted sardonically. “Do you know what you are letting yourself in for?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I am very demanding, Ms. Sutherland. I would have a brainstorm in the middle of the night and would act on it instantly. My assistant and those who work for me know about this particular habit of mine.

I am very generous when it comes to compensation, but I am also very exacting and like things done a certain way. I abhor complacency and lack of creativity.” His green eyes wandered over her face. “I started this company with just an idea, and it has grown into something massive.”

He paused and picked up his drink. Taking a few sips, he set the glass down and hefted the paperweight. “I am not easy to work with and I happen to want to know exactly what is happening at any given time. Is that something you can handle?”

His expression challenged her, but she only recorded the last part of the speech. “We are hired?”

He did not respond right away but subjected her to one of those soul-searching stares that had her almost squirming in her seat.

“On a trial basis. Your ideas are good and appeal to me.” He reached for something on his desk and held it out to her. When she came forward and took it, he continued.

“That’s personal to me. Lenny and I are old friends, so it’s not just business for us.” He waited until she had opened the folder and read a few pages. He saw when she reached the part about his illness.

“No one knows?”

He shook his head. “He is very talented, but his illness is taking a toll on his gift. He started writing again, and he wants the public to know what he is up against. I have encouraged him to tell his story.”

He paused, a frown on his brow. “He has agreed to be spotlighted and wants to talk to whomever I choose to take up the advertising accounts. All his details are there, and you can get in touch with him any time.”

She looked at the folder again and felt her heart bursting inside her chest. She was going to do such a great job that the man seated behind the desk, looking as imposing as Mount Rushmore, was going to commend her on it.

“Thank you.”

His eyes smoldered slightly as he stared at her. “Don’t thank me yet," he warned. “Like I said before, I want to see everything before it’s published. I want to vet whatever it is that’s going to the press, especially when it comes to that.”

He flicked a hand toward the folder. “It’s not just business, it’s personal. How soon can you have something available?”

“I will place a call to Mr. Bolt–” She looked over at him. “Is tonight too soon?” He shook his head. “He is waiting for the call. And if you want to be on his good side, call him Lenny.”

“Thank you for the heads up.”

Her smile did him in, and he felt the desire swamping him again. He wanted to taste her lips and feel her body against his. Swearing beneath his breath, he surged to his feet and had her doing the same.

“I apologize, but I have an engagement.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie, but he could not bear to have her in his space for another minute. He wanted her out.

“I will be in touch.”

He watched as she hurried out and closed the doors behind her. Sitting back down, he buried his face in his hands and huffed out a breath.