Chapter 5.

Mason reviewed his presentation one last time before saving it and shutting down his laptop. He pulled off his reading gla.s.ses and rubbed his weary eyes. When had his living room become so cold and sterile? So different from Kevan's tiny but colorful apartment, which had been full of warmth and character. How had he never noticed the precise placement of his furniture and overpriced art by a popular artist he couldn't even name? Who was the interior decorator he'd used? He didn't care to even remember. But what he did recall was instructing her to make it understated and functional. Somehow he'd ended up with stark and arrogant. On second thought, maybe the designer had nailed it.

The phone on his desk rang, startling him out of his thoughts. Other than his sister, only his board members and his parents called his home line. Since the phone was a refurbed antique from the forties, it didn't have caller ID, and answering meant he risked dealing with his robotic parents or one of GEM's board members. But it could also be Jami.

"Dillon," he barked into the receiver, a little harsher than he'd intended.

"No kidding, Mason, since it's your house I just called, and you're the only one who lives there," his sister's clipped voice answered, and he could picture the smirk on her face.

"Hey, Jami. What's up? I'm on my way to a meeting."

"What's up? That's the question, isn't it? What happened at work?"

The last thing he wanted to do was recount his humiliating meeting with the board of directors and their subsequent ultimatum. But when his tenacious pit bull of a sister wanted information, she wouldn't rest until she got it. It's what made her a good attorney and also a pain in the a.s.s.

"Fine." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I met with my board, and basically they said I need to increase revenue or I'm out."

The expected gasp on the other end of the line never came. Of course not. He was talking to his no-nonsense, all-business sister. "So what's your plan? You do have a plan."

"I do. I've been trying to get the company to diversify our talent for a long time. And now suddenly they realize we're behind the curve and need to step it up," he explained.

"And..."

"I signed a band called Demon Hill that might have some potential. And I've found a local heavy metal band that's on the cusp of hitting the big time. I'm going after them-without the board, because they'll just f.u.c.k the deal up. They're already trying to micromanage the developmental deal with Demon Hill."

"And?"

"And what?" Mason blew out a breath. "I gotta go, Jami. I'll talk to you later."

"I know you're not telling me something."

G.o.d, how she irritated him with that sisterly sixth sense bulls.h.i.t. Except she was right, but he wasn't willing to talk about Kevan. Or what he'd learned about Kevan and her connection to his band.

Finally, she said, "We'll talk about it later, okay?"

"Sure. Love you. I'll call you later."

"You better. Love you too," she said before hanging up.

Yeah, he was still processing his night with Kevan Landry. In truth, he'd considered taking her to breakfast. Maybe even asking her on a real date, hoping for a repeat of their s.e.xual acrobatics.

He laughed into the empty room. The hollow sound bounced off the slate-colored walls. A date. What a joke.

When he'd gotten up after dawn in search of water, he'd seen a printout on Kevan's kitchen counter of her pitch to Manix Curse's management. The same band he'd gone to the Tiki Torch the night before to sign. Never one to panic, he was surprised at the myriad of scenarios that had flooded his s.e.x-fogged mind. Had she targeted him after reading that d.a.m.n "Most Eligible Pacific Northwest Bachelors" article in the paper last month? That was ridiculous. He'd been the one to pursue her, zeroing in on her the moment she'd walked into the club.

In the end, it hadn't mattered what had brought them together. The pitch on the counter had served as a reminder to keep his head in the game and only proved his need to refocus on the work, like always. Without work, without his success as a star maker and top earner for GEM, what else was there?

The momentary distraction of Kevan could have easily cost him the band and maybe even his job. The stakes were too high to worry about her hot body. h.e.l.l, had she known he was pitching to Manix today? Maybe her game had been to make him lose concentration. As he stuffed his laptop into his briefcase, he shook his head, attempting to dislodge thoughts of her and turn his attention back to the pitch. He wasn't easily bewitched. Success was the only option, and s.e.x with a quirky rockabilly vixen did not factor into that equation.

As Kevan maneuvered her ancient Volvo into the nearly empty parking lot of the n.o.b Hill area, a much nicer section of Portland than her sad, little dilapidated Belmont apartment, she reviewed the plan in her head. This was a shoot-it-all, go-for-broke, play-to-win gamble. And she had to win.

Hopefully, she still had an icicle's chance in Hades to get this deal done. For all she knew, one of her compet.i.tors had already swooped in and stolen her band. Maybe this was a "thanks, but no thanks" kind of meeting. Anxiety flowed through her belly like a bubbling lava river.

Shaking off her nerves and any thoughts of the morning's disappointments, she pulled the door open and stepped into the clean but aging office building where Joe ran his business as an accountant. Kevan's eyes watered as she stifled a yawn. Looking and acting sleepy was not a good way to start this meeting. Another reason why last night had been such a bad idea and why it was probably good that Mason, the love-'em-and-leave-'em a.s.shole, had left.

She pushed the door closed and turned toward the desk in the small reception area. Dammit. She should have known better than to take a man home. Thank G.o.d she hadn't made him breakfast. She made it a practice to cook only for Bowen and close friends. Never for someone she dated. Well, not that what she'd done with Mason actually qualified as a date.

Laura, Joe's a.s.sistant and an acquaintance from high school, met her with a wide-open grin as she struggled to stand and waddle forward. Kevan stood transfixed, gawking at Laura's gigantic round belly before the woman wrapped her in a hug. Warmth grew in the dark cavern of Kevan's heart and battled for s.p.a.ce next to the ugly jealousy already mounting. She buried her uncomfortable feelings and smiled.

"d.a.m.n, girl, when are you going to have that baby?"

Laura blushed and wobbled back to her desk and plopped back into her chair. "I know, right? She still needs to bake another three weeks. Paul and I are so excited. How have you been?" Her lowered tone made Kevan wonder if Laura had heard the gossip about Ethan. Didn't matter. He was the past. And Laura's glow was contagious. Kevan's stomach settled, and her muscles relaxed. The pure adoration in Laura's eyes when she'd mentioned her husband gave Kevan hope. Even if she never found love, she was glad for some it was real and tangible.

"I'm so happy for you guys."

And she was. They deserved to be happy. Laura and Paul were a couple years ahead of Kevan in school, so they'd never been close, but she'd watched them battle so much to be together, with her wealthy parents doing everything to get rid of her "white trash" boyfriend. Kevan was pleased that someone from her part of town had made it out and found love. And a family. There were years they had struggled with multiple jobs so he could get through school, but finally their dreams were coming true.

Kevan's heart tightened. Their happily ever after, though, highlighted how lonely her own life had become. No matter. It was time to nail this gig and save her company. Definitely not the time to start feeling sorry for herself. Again.

"So, they're already in the conference room. You can go on back." Laura smiled and winked. "And then you can tell me who the new hottie is when you're done."

New hottie?

Who was she talking about? Kevan smoothed down her soft black pencil skirt and arranged her fitted silk blouse and trim jacket. With a deep breath, she shook off the dark clouds of doom she'd been dragging around all morning.

Move forward, cupcake. That's what her mom had always told her and Bowen.

She knew this band, and they knew her. This could be the perfect partnership for both of them. In addition, signing the band would give her access to a much higher-level clientele as Manix Curse grew in popularity and, thus, build her client list. She just needed to convince them that her plan was better than GEM's or Argyle's plans. Because it was.

No pressure. I got this.

Straightening her spine and leveling her shoulders, she marched through the conference room doorway. Bolstered by her inner bada.s.s pep talk, Kevan added a confident swing to her hips. At exactly the same moment, her shiny new shoe caught on the short pile carpet, snapping her head back and throwing her body forward. Instead of a graceful entrance, she flew through the air toward the floor. Closing her eyes, she braced for the inevitable impact and connected with something solid. She smelled fresh soap and mint.

"Are you okay?" That voice.

Her heart sank into her gut, and the hair p.r.i.c.kled on the back of her neck as she opened her eyes and rolled her head up to look up at her rescuer. She glimpsed the concerned expression of a serious, but gorgeous-like so f.u.c.king beautiful-man with glowing hazel eyes. And just stared. What the h.e.l.l was he doing there?

Mason.

"Are you all right?" he asked again. One corner of his mouth turned up as if slightly bemused by her puppet flail.

Against her will, she felt the warming between her legs from the rumble of his voice. Pulling her upright, he slid her body up against his. Not only was she staring at Mason, but her traitorous body leaned into him. With her b.r.e.a.s.t.s pushing against his lower chest and his erection growing to attention at her belly, her thoughts drifted back to their morning and night together. Why was she such a klutz around this man? And why the h.e.l.l was he here in Joe's conference room? Did he work with Joe?

But then he smiled his light-up-the-room smile. "I've got you, darlin'. Don't worry. I won't let you fall."

And his magic spell solidified into gla.s.s and shattered into a million little pieces. Dark realization slipped through her mind with blinding clarity. He was the compet.i.tion.

"Actually, no, Mason, you don't." She pushed away from him and smoothed her hair. "I'm fine."

And go away.

Inside Joe's conference room, the band sat around the battered conference table, staring with open interest at the exchange. Jax cleared his throat. "Well, you always do make an entrance, don't you, Kev?"

The heavy tension in the room thinned as she laughed and greeted the band members and Joe, who motioned for her to take a seat directly across from the man who had recently vacated her bed.

"Kevan, thanks for coming. We've also invited GEM's CEO, Mason Dillon, to join us."

Oh, h.e.l.l f.u.c.king no. Mason f.u.c.king Dillon. CEO of Global Entertainment Marketing. I was a fool not to have realized who he was.

Her blood boiled and her pulse raced as she ground her teeth and tried not to glare at the tall, smug man across from her. His expensive and professional manner exuded the powerful aura of someone used to winning.

Dammit. Had he known who she was when he'd watched her in the club last night? Had he known who she was when she'd taken him home?

She needed to keep her cool and not act like the hormonal mess she actually was. She tilted her head in acknowledgment and fake-smiled in Mason's direction-where he looked oddly uncomfortable, almost like his perfectly tailored suit was too tight-then back at Joe.

Whatever. You won't ruin my presentation, f.u.c.ker.

Her heart beat so hard she was sure they could hear it pounding against her ribs. All the reasons she'd decided to stay away from guys-especially guys like Mason-came flooding back to her in her father's voice.

You're lucky you're pretty...

Boys will be boys...

Don't think he can't find a million more like you, only smarter...

She looked to Joe as he smiled, ignoring the palpable strain in the room and blocking out her father's taunts. "I'll cut to the chase," Joe said. "We'd like to hear both of your plans. If we like what we hear, we can talk about moving forward."

"Both of us?" Kevan and Mason asked simultaneously, his deep voice overpowering hers. She felt her eye twitch slightly and heat rise up the back of her neck. The air thickened again, weighed down by the growing tension between her and Mason as she launched her most vicious glare his way. This was not going the way she'd wanted it to.

Time to pull up my big girl panties and fix this cl.u.s.terf.u.c.k.

Pretending she hadn't spent the night with the deceitful man sitting across the table and that Joe hadn't just blown her world apart, she smiled at each of the band members. "Look, Joe. Guys. I understand why you might be interested in a more conventional firm like Global Entertainment Marketing. They're big business and have industry connections. I get it. But I know the players in this industry well, and I know GEM has never signed a heavy metal band."

She took a deep breath and glanced toward Mason. He didn't look happy. He might actually be trying to bore holes in her with his laser-like eyes. Not her problem. "In fact, they've never come close to signing a hard rock band. Their clients are strictly pop or easy listening-"

"I have one of the largest client bases in the industry, Joe. And, contrary to Ms. Landry's claim, we recently signed a metal act to a developmental deal." Mason looked pointedly in Kevan's direction and smirked. "I'm sure you've heard of Demon Hill." Everyone nodded, like a table full of bobbleheads.

Well, f.u.c.k.

While not quite the caliber band that Manix Curse was, Demon Hill was a popular draw in the Portland area. Kevan had been so close to signing them until Bowen's fiasco. The band had made it clear they wouldn't be rescheduling their meeting with her.

Now she knew why. And Mason Dillon suddenly became even more of a threat.

As he flipped open his neat little leather dossier, she felt the muscles in her neck and shoulders tighten.

"Demon Hill is a good rock band, more mainstream and definitely less hardcore than Manix. GEM is designed to cater to mainstream artists. Which is cool. For them." Her words were coated with just the right amount of disdain. The metal community was tight-knit and loyal. Painting Mason as the outsider might help her make her case. "But you guys aren't mainstream or even hard rock. You'll never be easy listening, and you're sure as h.e.l.l not pop. Your music may be melodic and hit a broader audience, but it's hardcore. Mason wouldn't know the first thing about positioning you for long-term success."

Had he known before he'd taken her home that they were competing for the same contract? The thought was momentarily soul crushing. How could she have been so gullible? Again.

Joe pointed to a cable next to Kevan. "Why don't you plug your laptop in and show us what you have first? Then Mason will present." She pulled out her laptop and set it at the end of the table, plugging the projector cable in and focusing the image on the screen at the opposite end of the room. Launching the slideshow she'd prepared, feeling proud of the cell phone images she'd asked for from the attendees and instantly received over social media from last night's show. She glanced up at Joe. He looked impressed.

"Not only do I know Manix Curse, but I love your music. I'm a fan. I recognize how to market a cutting-edge group like Manix, and it's not going to be through prost.i.tuting yourself to frat kids, or by fronting boy bands or playing footsies with radio execs. It'll be through social media, authentic follower interactions and events, and playing your bada.s.s music to fans who love bada.s.s music and want to buy your awesome merchandise." Her throat felt dry, her voice raspy in her ears. She glanced around the table, and Jax rolled a water bottle her way. And winked. Sa.s.sy man-boy.

Mason tapped one finger on the table. "That's all very quaint, but sending a tweet about concerts won't get you a recording deal-"

"No, of course not." She smirked, pleased she was getting to him. Glad she could make him feel just a little of the discomfort she felt. d.a.m.n. Had he seen her meeting notes on her kitchen table before he'd left?

"But building a solid support base and packing every show you play will. As you can see on the graphs, here"-she pointed to the screen-"marketing metrics show a direct correlation between a bands' fan base growth curve and their engagement in social media.

"The great thing about using social media is the costs are measured in time, not dollars. Bands have a lot of down time, which is a prime opportunity to engage current and potential fans." She looked directly at Conner, who was looking down into his lap, maybe at his phone. The full tattoo sleeves on his muscled arms tucked under the table and his hair pulled back into a man bun. To win this battle, she had to appeal to all the band's members, including the distracted ba.s.s player. And ignore the jerk threatening to steal her one chance to fix her mess of a life.

"Three years ago, Chris Kael, the ba.s.s player of Five Finger Death Punch, was a bartender at a Hard Rock Cafe, now he has a drink named after him there and more than fifty thousand followers on Twitter. He's sold hundreds of thousands of alb.u.ms in the last year. In addition, his personal merch product line and distilled whiskey business are growing franchises."

At the mention of one of his rock heroes, Conner sat up and tucked his phone away, his handsome face still drawn, but paying attention. "So what does tweeting have to do with Kael's success in business or as a ba.s.s player?"

Score. Finally.

"He grows his band's brand by interacting directly with his fans. Jolt Marketing specializes in social media and can help fine-tune a program designed for this kind of success." She continued through the slides, showing the different statistics and graphs supporting her ideas.

Kevan a.s.sessed the interest of the group. Everyone, including Joe, studied the charts on her screen. Mason's foot tapped against the carpet and jiggled the table, but his face remained expressionless. He was obviously a master at hiding his emotions. Or maybe he didn't have any.

"Another great way to effectively build interest in Manix without spending outrageous amounts of money is through fan-centered events, such as meet and greets. Video, too. I'd love to make a couple of low-budget videos-personal behind-the-scenes kind of stuff-and get them to go viral on the web. Growing local interest outside of your core fan base could be done through community events like social activism, charity performances, and volunteering. Sabbath, Slipknot, and G.o.dsmack are all bands well known for giving back." She cycled through the bulleted slides featuring overly happy pierced and tattooed people.

"Finally, I can revamp your merchandising. I have an in-house graphic designer with an eye-"

"GEM has an entire design department. I personally handpick the designers a.s.signed to each brand." Mason leaned his elbows on the table, his eyes locking with hers.

"Yes, but do any of your designers have a father who once played studio guitar for Anthrax? Someone who understands the metal scene because she grew up in it?" Kevan glared and Mason pressed his lips into a tight line, his eyes stormy and filled with something like anger. That shut Pretty Boy up.

"As I was saying, the day of rock star advances is long gone, and touring, videos, and merchandising are how bands make their money nowadays. So, I propose we take a look at your current branding." Apparently, they didn't like that idea as her words were met with groans. "Hey, I don't want to change Manix. I want you to stand out above all the other noise out there."

At least Joe nodded. He got it. Her heart slowed a little from the near-constant pounding against her chest. Breathe.

"What does that mean? You don't like our logo-the skull with bleeding eye sockets doesn't get you hot?" Marco asked with his trademark playful smirk.

"Shut up, d.i.c.khead. She's trying to help us." Mandi threw her empty water bottle at the longhaired singer.

"No, it's a good question." Kevan was ready for their resistance to updating the band's look. "I don't want to change everything, but help refine it. I love the logo. It's totally brutal. We need to clean it up a bit. We can talk about updating your other stuff-shirts, CDs, posters-in the coming weeks."

Mason's foot still fidgeted, but his expression had changed. He looked different. Impressed? Nervous? Could the CEO of GEM actually be threatened by little ol' Jolt Marketing?