Читать книгу From Enemies To Expecting - Kat Cantrell - Страница 9

The next morning, Trinity entered the five-story glass-and-steel building that housed the cosmetics company she’d helped build with her marketing savvy and love of all things feminine. She still got a thrill out of the modern design and purple accents she and her three partners had selected, and the location just north of downtown Dallas was perfect for a single woman who owned an amazing condo in the heart of the city.

Cass had been making noises about moving the company to Austin. Trinity kept her mouth shut because Fyra’s CEO had a very good reason for wanting to do so—her husband, Gage, lived there and they were expecting a baby together. Trinity didn’t have anything against Austin, per se. But it was yet another example of something she had no control over. She hated anything that smacked of lack of control.

Plus, what was wrong with Gage moving his company to Dallas? Both CEOs ran large companies with lots of employees. Just because Gage was the man in the equation, why did that mean he automatically won the battle?

Trinity strode toward her office to the sounds of hoots and clapping. She took a moment to grin and wave. Obviously the footage of her kiss with Logan had made the rounds. The game show itself wouldn’t air until later in the week, but she’d charmed the producer out of a clip of the kiss, starting it on its viral journey by posting it to her own social media accounts and tagging everyone she knew to share it.

Trinity wasn’t one for leaving things to chance.

Cass had scheduled a meeting for first thing this morning, probably to get the full scoop. Humming, Trinity grabbed coffee and dug around until she found her iPad in her shoulder bag, then strolled to the conference room where Cass stood at the head of the table.

“Hey,” Trinity called and repeated her greeting to Fyra’s CFO, Alex Edgewood, and then to Dr. Harper Livingston-Gates, the chief science officer, whose faces appeared in split screen on a TV mounted on the wall. Both of them were participating in the meeting virtually since they’d abandoned Dallas the moment their husbands crooked their fingers.

Trinity sank into a seat and mentally slapped herself for being unkind.

Alex was pregnant with twins and on bed rest, so it made sense that she lived in Washington, DC, with her husband, Phillip, a United States senator. Harper’s husband worked in Zurich, and Trinity didn’t blame her for wanting to be in the same bed with a man as hot as Dr. Dante Gates, especially since they’d just figured out they were in love after being friends for over a decade.

Maybe Trinity was a little jealous that everyone else had such an easy time with normal female things like falling for a great guy and having his support during pregnancy. And none of them had suffered a horrendous miscarriage that had left them feeling defective. Well, so what? Trinity had other great stuff in her life, like more men than she could shake a stick at.

Except lately, great men had been pretty scarce. The pitfalls of turning thirty. Made you think more about the definition of “great,” and pseudo–frat boys with Peter Pan syndrome were not it. Unfortunately, that seemed to be the type she met at her usual haunts, which was fine for the short term.

She just wished she knew why that didn’t feel like enough anymore.

Cass started off with a sly smile. “You and your reality show partner got pretty chummy. Do tell.”

“All for the cameras, hon,” Trinity assured her. God, what was with that pang in her gut? The kiss had been fake. On both sides—never mind that she’d liked how real it felt. “We were both interested in getting additional coverage. It worked.”

Alex and Harper both murmured their disappointment that the story wasn’t juicier.

“I know we’ve turned dissecting our love lives into a regular boardroom agenda item, but let’s move on,” Trinity insisted smoothly. “I’m sure Cass didn’t call this meeting to talk about my partner on a reality game show.”

“Actually, I did,” Cass corrected. “We’ve got a publicity issue that’s at the top of everyone’s mind right now. After the mess with the leak and then the FDA approval fiasco, sales went into the toilet. We’ve got new problems daily as articles keep popping up in what feels to me like a smear campaign.”

Felt that way to Trinity, too. Which was why it pissed her off so much. This was her territory. Her company. And someone was after it.

“Yeah, I’m aware. That’s why I did the show, remember?”

“I’m not sure it’s enough.” Cass frowned. “I approved it since the publicist suggested it, but we need to move forward with launching Formula-47. When can you schedule time to present the marketing plan?”

“Next Monday?” Trinity suggested and started calculating exactly how screwed she was…since the campaign didn’t exist. Very would be the precise amount of screwed.

It wasn’t anyone’s fault but hers, but then she’d never had a creative dry spell like this one, and she couldn’t even commiserate with her friends. Recent personal events for all three ladies had driven a wedge between them, with Trinity on the wrong side of the married mom division.

Trinity hated it. She was happy for her friends, but sad that they’d all chosen lives so different from the ones they’d had. So different from the one she’d mapped out for herself. And she was pretty sure that was why her creativity had completely abandoned her when she needed it most.

The sketching she’d done on that pristine white pad while Logan peered over her shoulder had been a welcome flood of ingenuity. Maybe the medium was the key—she’d run out at lunch and pick up one of those easels. It could work.

She could totally get her muse to make an appearance, work straight through and have a brilliant campaign by Monday morning. Especially if the publicity from Exec-ution worked like it was supposed to. With that load off her mind, then she could concentrate on turning Formula-47 into a powerhouse wrinkle and scar cream that would put Fyra at the top of the industry.

Cass nodded and shifted focus to numbers, so Alex took the lead on that, while Trinity sank down in her seat to let her mind wander in hopes of jogging something passable from her subconscious. Didn’t happen, but she had almost a week. No problem.

The easel and pad did not turn into a magic bullet. Neither did the marathon brainstorming session she called to generate ideas from her creative team. At four o’clock, she sent Melinda, Fyra’s receptionist, to the office supply store to get a dozen more blank pads. The remains of the two Trinity had purchased at lunch lay in ripped and crumpled pieces on her office floor. She might have stabbed a couple of the papers with her Louboutin heels, but only because big jagged holes improved the package design she’d started on.

She didn’t even have a product name, which meant she had no business trying to design the packaging. Her creative process required building blocks, and the name always came first, but she’d been desperate to make some kind of progress. Formula-47 would be Fyra’s premier product and as the CMO, Trinity should and would take on the heaviest lifting. Her creative team had enough on their plates with managing the rest of Fyra’s marketing juggernaut while she buried herself in this mess.

Melinda poked her head in the door. “I’ve got your pads. Also, Lara from Gianni Publicity Group is here. She doesn’t have an appointment. Shall I send her away?”

The publicist. Great. That was exactly what Trinity needed right now—a reminder that Cass had hired an outside firm to do Trinity’s job. And Lara’s big contribution thus far had landed Trinity in the arms of a do-gooder Texas boy who kissed like a wicked fantasy.

Logan McLaughlin was a name she should have forgotten by now. For God knew what reason, it still rattled around in her head, heating up places that shouldn’t be heating at the thought of a rugged, lean-hipped outdoorsy guy who wasn’t her type.

She sighed. “No, it’s okay. I’ll see her.”

Lara Gianni rushed into the office, long hair streaming behind her as the chic woman grabbed Trinity by the shoulders and kissed both cheeks, Italian style. “You brilliant, brilliant lady. Logan McLaughlin is magnifico.”

“Back off. I saw him first,” Trinity said drily. Was the woman reading minds now? “Why is he magnificent again? Please tell me it’s because you’ve got good news.”

The publicist laughed. “The best. Your video has already been shared over half a million times, and the response? Amazing. People love you two together. The comments are priceless. Love on the set of a TV show is brilliant marketing.”

“Wait a minute. Love on a TV show? It was an entrepreneurial game show, not The Bachelor.” The look on Lara’s face gave Trinity a very bad feeling. “The public was supposed to see the name Fyra and think positive thoughts about it. That’s how you sold the idea to us.”

“That was before you went in a whole different direction. One I love! You’re truly brilliant.”

Yeah, that part was clear. What wasn’t clear was what the hell Lara was talking about. “I didn’t go in a different direction. We lost the game and I had to do something extra. I kissed my partner. Voilà, now Fyra is all over social media.”

“No.” Lara shook her head. “You are all over social media. They like the romance you unwittingly created. I would highly recommend continuing it.”

Trinity’s stomach dropped into her shoes. “Continue what? There’s no romance. It was one kiss.”

A hot kiss. If she’d watched the footage a couple of dozen times before she’d posted it, no one had to know.

Lara shrugged. “I suggest you figure out how to make it into more than a kiss. It doesn’t have to be a real relationship so long as you get yourself photographed with Logan McLaughlin. A lot. While kissing and making goo-goo eyes at each other.”

The logic of it warred with the insanity. A fake relationship strictly for publicity? She couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Yet…how was that so different than a fake kiss for the same reason? Logan had jumped on that deal like a starving dog on a steak. Maybe he’d be really good at pretending they were a hot-and-heavy couple.

The thought unleashed a shiver that nearly unglued her. The side benefits of such an arrangement held many interesting possibilities that she could not ignore, like enticing a nice guy into a walk on the wild side. How much fun would it be to corrupt the hell out of the all-American boy, especially on camera?

No. A long-term fake relationship was a whole lot different than one fake kiss. Her acting skills weren’t that good. Except all at once, she couldn’t figure out if she’d be feigning she was into him…or pretending she wasn’t.

“No way. I can’t do something like that.”

Lara’s brow furrowed as she pulled out her phone and tapped a few times, then held it out to display a nearly all-red pie chart. “That’s the click-through rate from your video to Fyra’s website.”

All the blood drained from Trinity’s head. Seventy-five percent. Seventy-five percent. The click-through rate of her most successful social media campaign ever was 12 percent.

In the wake of the smear tactics someone had launched against Fyra, she couldn’t afford to pass up this idea.

Looked like she’d be paying Mr. McLaughlin a visit. Tomorrow. Hello, new boyfriend.

Myra slapped the printed spreadsheet on Logan’s desk and didn’t bother to hide her smirk. “Told you that reality show would work.”

Yes, it had. He didn’t need his publicist to point out the double-digit increase in ticket sales. The Mustangs’ entire front office had been buzzing about it since he’d walked in this morning. And he had Trinity Forrester, CMO, to thank.

Who would have thought that sizzling kiss would pay such huge dividends?

Duncan McLaughlin had never done that to get customers to open their wallets, but in Logan’s defense, it hadn’t been his idea. Yet he’d gotten on board with it pretty dang fast, at least once he’d realized the hot woman he’d been salivating over was not coming on to him. She’d simply found one last way to get the camera on them. As tactics went, he could find little to complain about.

Other than the fact that one bad-girl kiss later, he’d come to the uncomfortable realization that he could not wipe the feel of that tongue piercing from his memory.

His admin, Lisa, popped into his office, eyes wide. “Um, boss? You have a visitor. Ms. Forrester?”

Well, well. He leaned back in his chair as Myra’s expression veered between intrigued and very intrigued. Logan had a feeling his own face might be doing something similar, so he schooled it before nodding to Lisa. “You can send her in. Thanks, Myra. I’ll get back to you.”

And then everything in the world of baseball ceased to exist as Trinity waltzed into his office, her off-kilter hair throwing him into a tailspin. God, how was that so sexy? On her, it was one more in-your-face reminder that she was a force to be reckoned with.

Today’s outfit consisted of a deep purple suit with a micro skirt, black stockings that made her legs look a mile long and silver ankle breakers that he’d like better on his bedroom floor.

“Thanks for seeing me on short notice,” she said.

That throaty voice. He’d underrated what it did to him when the sound slid down his spine. His blood woke up and sluiced through his veins in a rush that made him feel alive—only being on the mound had ever replicated that feeling.

Why her? Of all people? He’d always been on the lookout for a simple, uncomplicated woman who listened to country music and planned picnics. A nice woman to settle down with, who could have his babies and be the love of his life. That was how his dad had done it. That was how Logan wanted to do it. The fact that he’d yet to meet his fictional perfect lady was neither here nor there—she was out there somewhere.

And her name was not Trinity. He should not be attracted to her.

All at once, he remembered his manners and rose to his feet, palm outstretched toward the love seat near the window that overlooked the ballpark, his favorite spot in the whole stadium as long as there wasn’t a game in progress. Then it was the dugout until the bitter end.

Most general managers sat in an air-conditioned luxury box, but his players were slugging it out on the field, and in August, it wasn’t unusual for the temperature to hit 110. The senior McLaughlin had regularly hit the trenches alongside his employees. Logan could do the same.

Instead of taking the offered seat, Trinity slid a steamy once-over all the way down his body. “You’re wearing a suit. What was it you said about those?”

I’d rather go naked.

The unspoken quote hung in the air between them, dissolving into a dense awareness that answered one lingering question on his mind since that kiss—whether or not he misremembered how deeply she’d gotten under his skin with all her innuendo.

He’d recalled it perfectly.

“I’m being a grown-up today,” he croaked and cleared his throat.

“Oh, yeah, I once thought about being one of those for Halloween.” She shrugged with a smile that he felt in his gut. “By the way, I like you in a suit.”

“What can I do for you, Ms. Forrester?”

The sooner he got her out of his office, the sooner he could get back to work. Or take a cold shower. The last thing he should do was give her an advantage, or she’d railroad him into doing her bidding before he’d fully surfaced from being whacked upside the head by all the pheromones.

“You can call me Trinity.” She jerked her chin toward the desk, flinging the dark swath of hair into motion. She hadn’t colored it today, strictly to throw him off, no doubt. “Talk to me about your numbers.”

He glanced at the spreadsheet Myra had thrown at him to give himself a half second. What was she fishing for? “I’m happy with the results of the viral video and hopeful that when the show airs, the upward trend will continue. How about your numbers?”

“Fantastic. So good, in fact, I’m here with a proposal.”

The way she said it brought to mind closed doors, a secret rendezvous and a solid block of time to explore just how good that bar through her tongue would feel on his body. If that ever happened, she’d completely ruin him for all other women, no doubt.

His body tightened in anticipation. Let’s find out, it begged.

“I’m listening,” he said when what he should have said was there’s the door.

“My target customers loved the video of us together. My publicist thinks we should take advantage of it and start a public relationship. Pretend that we’re dating after meeting on the show.”

“That’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard. We’d kill each other before anyone believed we were a couple.”

His mind ignored his instant denial and latched on to the idea, turning it over. The timing of the video coincided with the increase in ticket sales too neatly to be a fluke. What would it hurt to capitalize on the momentum?

It could hurt a lot. His major objection had nothing to do with the brilliance of the idea and everything to do with his illogical reaction to her every time she got within breathing distance.

And then last night, she hadn’t even been in the room when he’d let himself envision a bedtime story about finishing that kiss with her legs wrapped around his waist. Yeah, she might be the star in his current shower fantasies. It wasn’t a felony. Except he’d never in a million years have guessed that today would bring her back into his orbit, especially not this way.

Her gaze glittered with calculation. “Actually, the worst idea you’d ever heard was the one where we got paired on that stupid game show. But we made that work. Together. It was a team effort, and we almost won. Just think what we can accomplish with a concerted effort to exploit the public’s thirst for celebrity couples. I’m offering you my complete attention to boost your ticket sales.”

Her negotiation skills hit all the right notes, buttering him up, stressing the goal. Worst of all? He had an urge to say yes, simply to find out what her complete attention looked like.

Was it distasteful to use this opportunity to sate his curiosity about Trinity? A better question was how long he could do it and keep his hands off her. Not long—either he’d make good on the urge to strangle her or he’d provoke her until she kissed him again.

This idea got worse and worse the longer he thought about it.

“How do you even know I’m single?” he countered. “Maybe I’ve got the perfect girlfriend already and I—”

“Please don’t insult me, McLaughlin.” She snorted. “Or yourself. You couldn’t have cut the sexual tension between us with a meat cleaver. If you do have a girlfriend and you can still kiss me like that, you’re not the man I assume you are.”

He scowled, and not just because of her excellent point.

“I get it now.” He nodded sagely. “This is a ploy to earn yourself some more camera time. Attend a few Mustangs games where the general manager’s hot girlfriend would most definitely be a subject of interest.”

Boldly, she contemplated him, not at all bothered by his half-assed accusations. “What if it is? Does that automatically make it a bad idea? My reasons for liking this plan have nothing to do with the reasons you should agree. Ticket sales are the only thing that matters.”

Wow. He shook his head. When you called a spade a spade with Trinity Forrester, she turned over a full house. “Let me make sure I’ve got this straight. You’re suggesting we manufacture a relationship. Date each other, be seen at some events. And the public is going to approve of this by spending a lot of money?”

“We’re going to help them do that with ad campaigns heavily laced with click bait. But, yeah. Get your publicist involved. Talk to your marketing people. Let’s make it a party and get some eyes on our individual brands.”

Not only did everything she was saying make sense, she had a unique way of presenting it that appealed to him. That alone ruffled his nerves. “How exactly are we going to date and manage to be civil to each other?”

Like that was the biggest issue.

“Who said we were?” Her blue eyes glowed as she caught his gaze. “Part of what sizzles about us is the way we clash. It translates really well on camera. Didn’t you watch the clip?”

He might have watched the video a few times, and there wasn’t a good way to pretend she was wrong. Nor could he forget how arguing with her had exploded into the heat of that kiss. “So not only are we supposed to fake date, but we’re also supposed to have knock-down, drag-out fights in public, too?”

That was way over the line. Logan and his temper were old enemies, and bad decisions followed when he allowed his emotions off the leash. He’d left his hothead days behind him when he bought the Mustangs. A team owner had to play it cool, and thus far, he’d call his newfound calm a success.

Until Trinity.

She was the only person of his acquaintance who threatened his composure on a minute-by-minute basis.

She shrugged. “Let me be clear. I’ll do whatever it takes to get you to agree to this. If you want me to be nice and sweet and smile at your fans, I will.”

Waltzing closer, she let her fingers trail down the front of his shirt, reminding him of the last time she’d done that—right before he’d tested out kissing a woman with a bar through her tongue.

As if she’d read his mind, her gaze instantly caught fire and swept him with a thousand licks of heat as she let her eyes wander down his body in a slow perusal that almost had him squirming. But he had far more control over his body than that—any athlete worth his salt had enormous discipline. Losing his pitching arm hadn’t become an excuse to sit on the couch and get fat.

“Logan,” she murmured throatily, splattering his control to hell and back as his lower half went hard. “If you want me to wear leather and carry around a whip because you like the bad-girl persona that Exec-ution coated me with, I would be happy to oblige. Tell me what it will take.”

Now that was an interesting proposition. His imagination took off at a brisk trot, and it was nearly impossible to rein it back in. “We’d have to make it look real.”

Guess it was too late to pretend he wasn’t considering it.

“Sure. Lots of public kissing. Affection. Lots of making up after a good fight. Maybe you pop the question at an event with a huge diamond ring that sparkles.”

Not for a thousand percent increase in ticket sales would he do something so sacred unless he meant it. “I’m not proposing to you no matter how fake it is. That’s reserved for the future Mrs. McLaughlin. She deserves to be the only one to have that experience.”

Something flashed in her gaze. Longing, maybe. But it was gone before he could process it and her expression hardened. “Fair enough. You play this however you want.”

“You realize we have to spend time together doing things. You’re going to have to pretend to like baseball. No glazed eyes when I wax poetical about Nolan Ryan.”

Actually, he might do that on occasion just for fun.

“Only if you listen with rapt attention when I mention Estée Lauder,” she countered with a sly smile. “I need you. Make me an offer.”

“I’ll think about it.”

He didn’t have to. There was no way he could say no. The part he had to think about was how deep this fake relationship would ultimately go. How deep he’d be willing to admit he wanted it to go. And whether he could, in fact, hold on to both his temper and his sanity while dating Trinity Forrester.

She swept from his office on a cloud of femininity and something spicy that he suspected he’d smell in his sleep for a long time to come.

Before he could remind himself of the million and one reasons it was a dangerous, horrible idea, he texted her: I’m in.