I took a sip of water to cover my confusion. “It’s going to be a challenge, that’s for sure. Like I was telling Hugo, this is like spinning gold out of crap. And I got a look at our rock star in the lobby and I didn’t recognize him at all. Plus, he’s not exactly the kind of material I was hoping for. We’re going to have to find some weird angle to make people want to watch him, because sex appeal is not going to work.”
Michael’s eyebrows rose, clearly astonished. “You mean you don’t know anything about the band?”
I shook my head. “I don’t even know the name of the band. We’re just going to have to go into this meeting cold and fake it.”
For some reason, Michael looked thoroughly annoyed, but I didn’t have time to question him about it because a tall, lean man entered the room. “Ms. Winston?”
I stood. “Yes.”
The man extended his hand to me. “Rob Forrestor. Director of Programming. Jeff is ready to meet with us. I’ll walk you to the conference room.”
Michael stood up and popped a strawberry from the tray into his mouth. “I need to use the restroom. I’ll catch up with you in the meeting.”
“Okay.” I gathered up my meager supplies and my purse and followed the programming director to a different bank of elevators at the back end of the building. We went up several floors and then exited the elevator.
“We’ve heard nothing but marvelous things about your work, Ms. Winston. Glad you’re on board with us.” He led me to a large conference room filled with people milling about.
We entered together and then Rob steered me over to a heavyset man with a booming voice. “Jeff, this is Kaitlyn Winston. Our Executive Producer / Director.”
Jeff Thornton, the President of the Vibe channel, turned to me, and maybe I was being paranoid, but I felt he judged me lacking. He took one look at my appearance and probably thought I was one of Hugo’s cast-offs. I was too young and too pretty to have any brains or talent. It had happened many times before, but it still always burned. I would show this chauvinist asshole.
“Ms. Winston? Jeff Thornton. Very nice to meet you. Cindy is escorting Cold Fusion’s manager up now, so we’ll start shortly. After the meeting, please stick around if you have time. I want to discuss some things with you.”
I agreed and then Jeff left to take his seat, which seemed to be a signal for the other employees to begin taking their seats. I chose a seat next to Rob, the program director, leaving an empty seat on the other side for my assistant, the very sexy and very absent Michael. I felt lame arranging my yellow notepad and pens while everyone else was opening up their laptops.
A few minutes later, the door opened. Cindy, presumably, spoke. “Mr. Thornton? This is Mr. Scott Boyd, the manager for Cold Fusion.”
Cold Fusion. They sounded vaguely familiar. Manager? Of course the band had a manager. It just served to remind me how little I knew about rock bands and the rock music industry in general. But, the middle-aged guy from the lobby was not my rock star. I still had some hope left.
“Welcome, Mr. Boyd. Please have a seat.” Jeff gestured toward an empty chair.
Scott sat down. “Please call me Scott.”
Jeff nodded. “Let’s go around the table and introduce ourselves to Scott.”
I only half-listened to the list of usual participants: Director of Sales, Market Research, Promotions Manager, Public Relations, and several writers. I would collect their business cards later, because I would need to work closely with them. So far I had only placed two words on my notepad, Cold Fusion. I picked up my pen and underlined the words twice. Cold Fusion would be the key to my success. Whoever they were.
Finally, the introductions came around to me. Jeff jumped in before I could introduce myself. “This is Ms. Kaitlyn Winston. She’s our Executive Producer / Director and frankly it’s quite a coup to have gotten her for this project. We are lucky to have her on board.”
I managed some inane greeting for everyone as I seethed silently. I was fairly certain that Jeff was testing me already. If I didn’t step up, I was going to get fired from this project even before I got officially hired. Crawling back to Hugo and begging for my old job back would be humiliating.
When Scott Boyd, the band’s manager, started speaking, I vaguely began taking notes. I was a terrible note taker. Where was my damn assistant? It figured that I had an inexperienced assistant that ditched me for the first meeting. Who could blame him? Maybe he had the right instincts to jump ship on this Titanic of a project.
Scott finished speaking about his history with the band and then started listing the band’s many accomplishments. The platinum albums, the chart-topping songs, the various awards, the venues that they had headlined and sold out; it all sounded impressive to me. But, what did I know? Still, I felt a buzz of excitement. If this band was half as good as they sounded, the show couldn’t help but be a hit.
As Scott continued talking about the band, the conference door opened and all eyes shifted toward the door. I heard a gasp from someone and one woman actually tittered. Curious, I turned to see what the excitement was about.
My assistant, Michael walked in. He walked with a swagger I hadn’t noticed before. He looked at me, and the intensity burning in his eyes made me swallow. My pulse pounded as he walked over to the empty chair next to me.
He took off his jacket and I could see the tattoos snaking up his arms and how well his jeans hugged his ass, which just happened to be at my eye level. My palms grew sweaty. I was insanely attracted to my assistant. Michael took his time sitting, even though everyone was staring at him.
My heart was beating a mile a minute. I felt panicky. Should I introduce him to the group? Several people were not introduced; I assumed they were lower level staff. I didn’t want to break with protocol, but Michael had interrupted the entire meeting. They were probably shocked by his unprofessional appearance. They most likely thought I was crazy having this guy as my assistant.
I couldn’t find my voice and the moment passed. Michael wheeled his chair as close to me as it could get. How was I going to work with this guy? I certainly wouldn’t judge his ability based on his appearance, as I knew all too well how unfair that was. No, he might turn out to be a great assistant, but how was I going to be able to take normal breaths around this guy?
His long legs extended under the table and brushed up against mine as he pushed his chair so close. Little shivers of awareness danced down my spine. I tucked my legs under my own chair and out of his reach and couldn’t help but notice the mischievous smile on his face. This guy knows he’s hot. And he knows that I think so, too. I had to rein him in while I took control of this meeting fast.
The manager was still rambling on about the band and most of the participants were looking slightly bored. I pointed to the words ‘Cold Fusion’ on my yellow pad and circled them. When Michael read the words, I added a big question mark after them.
Michael shrugged in response. Crap. There goes my hope that they were a wildly popular band. He looked more into the rock scene than I was and if he’d never heard of them…
He picked up a pen and scribbled on my paper. What are they like?
Truthfully, I had no idea. I wrote: talented, according to the manager.
I felt like a teenager goofing off in class, but for some reason I waited eagerly to see what he was writing next.
But are they sexy?
I almost laughed out loud.
God, I hope so.
I glanced over to see his reaction and his megawatt smile had my stomach fluttering. My insides turned to liquid heat as a current of physical awareness zapped between us. I felt trapped within his smile, mesmerized; the rest of the room faded away as time stood still.
He had me pinned with a knowing, sultry look. He leaned over and whispered in my ear sending new shivers running down my spine. “I can’t wait to assist you. I know we’ll be so good together.”
I blinked a few times trying to decipher his meaning, and then squirmed unc
omfortably in my chair. Only one thing made sense and that was outrageous. Had he crossed the line? Or was he just playing with me?
Suddenly, I realized that Scott stopped speaking while I was so thoroughly distracted by Michael. Now, the Vibe marketing guy was excitedly talking about something. “… ‘On the Road’ or ‘Front Row Ticket’ are the current top choices.”
Scott jumped in, “Front Row Ticket with Cold Fusion. The band’s name should be in the title of the show.”
I shook off the lusty haze clouding my mind and tried my best to forget about my assistant, who was still sitting way too close to me. “That’s not going to work for me. I need something more intimate. So fans think they are getting a private peek at the band. Something personal. Like a diary – a diary entry is like getting a secret and intimate glimpse into the guys behind the band. I like that. Rock Star Diaries.”
Heads were bobbing with agreement around the table and the marketing guy was repeating the name out loud, over and over.
Jeff nodded slowly. “That’s perfect. I think we’ve nailed it.”
Scott tried again. “But what about the band? How about ‘The Rock Star Diaries of Cold Fusion’?”
“No. Ms. Winston had it right. I’ve been at this game a long time, Scott. I trust my instincts and I’m sure that Rock Star Diaries is a winner. Bruce, what else do you have for us?” Jeff turned back to the marketing guy, his action further cementing the finality of his decision.
I turned my focus back to Bruce and almost jumped when I felt a warm hand on my bare knee. Despite the secret thrill I felt as I imagined the hand sliding slowly upwards, I knew I had to stop this. I dug my fingernails into the skin on the back of his hand, scratching his flesh. I heard a soft chuckle before Michael grabbed my hand and captured it tightly in his own. He was so fired when this meeting was over.
It was hard to concentrate, but I listened as Bruce continued, “We have a lot of promotional material available already. Due to the short notice, we need to put together the ads as soon as possible, but luckily we can license some great material from existing photo shoots and the band’s promo work. We’ve got some excellent head shots of them already. Sandi can you hit the lights, please?”
I hadn’t noticed when Michael had loosened his death grip on my hand, but now as his finger was tickling my palm, I realized that we were holding hands under the table like lovers. I snatched my hand away and shot him a warning glare.
Sandi turned off the lights and all eyes turned toward the white screen. The first shot was of the band, four guys, leaning against a graffiti covered wall. I couldn’t see the band members up close, but my heart started beating a little bit faster at the sexy image that I could see. Young guys. Handsome. Definitely swoon-worthy material to work with, thank goodness. But I needed fresh swoon-worthy material. Bruce cycled through several more photos from the same shoot.
I spoke up. “Thousands of fans have already seen these pictures. I want all new shots. And I need individual shots of each guy which showcases their individual personalities.”
The marketing guy answered in a somewhat put-off tone. “Impossible with such short notice. And I’ve got head shots of each guy which will work perfectly for our marketing campaign – ”
“Head shots won’t work. We need to create buzz. An intimate new look at the band. Something fans haven’t seen before. And the teaser needs to be plastered all over social media. We’ve got to target our demographic.”
Bruce started mumbling, “Yes. Of course. I was thinking social media, too.”
I turned to the band manager. “Scott, can you tell us a little bit about the guys in the band? Their personalities, what they like to do…”
Michael’s hand returned to my knee. This time, I pinched his arm as hard as I could. I didn’t want Rob, the Programming Director, who was sitting next to me to notice anything going on, so I grabbed Michael’s hand and squeezed his fingers in what I hoped was a painful, stilling grip.
As the band manager began talking about the lead guitarist, Alex Lavigne, Bruce brought up the headshot of the musician. Well, hot damn. This just might be our star.
My stomach fluttered and I felt goosebumps as Michael’s finger began swirling soft circles on my wrist. I squeezed harder.
“…Nick, the bass guitarist, is the quiet, brooding type…”
The headshot of Nick was just as stunning as Alex’s. Dark, classic good looks, but not as friendly looking as Alex. He would provide our drama and emotion. Young girls would be crying for this heartbreaker.
When had I let Michael’s hand go? Now it was tracing circles just above my knee. All this stimulation was driving me crazy. Thank goodness I had a suit jacket on so that no one could see how hard my nipples had become. I was becoming sexually aroused in the middle of the meeting. Great. I halted Michael’s hand again.
“…Tommy, the drummer, is funny, carefree, athletic. He rock climbs, surfs every chance he gets…”
Tommy’s photo went up. The band was a veritable goldmine - another sexy guy that would appeal to just about any woman. His friendly smile, blonde hair and even white teeth screamed California boy. He would play off the other two perfectly.
“…Tyler is the lead singer of course.”
That’s when the room began spinning and I stopped breathing. Because, the picture projected on the electronic board was of my assistant, Michael James, the man sitting next to me, slipping his warm, sensuous fingers slowly inside my skirt.
Scott gestured toward my assistant, Michael. “Tyler, why don’t you tell them about yourself.”
Tyler grinned boyishly as all eyes turned toward him. His hand still rested carelessly in my lap, his fingers casually stroking the inside of my thigh. I wondered if he could feel the heat burning between my legs or if anyone could see what he was doing. And, my God, it took all my restraint not to open my legs up wider and invite him inside. I gritted my teeth to keep from moaning.
Tyler looked around the room. “You can read my diary any time you like, but most of it will be x-rated.” Several women tittered and Bruce, the marketing guy, audibly gasped. “There is only one thing that I’d like to guarantee gets included in this show. And that’s promoting the charity I support.”
“What charity is that?” One of the marketing guys asked, sounding interested.
Tyler paused before answering. “Pediatric organ donations.”
I wondered at his slight pause. There was a hint of vulnerability there and it was the first sign of any insecurity I had noticed out of the massive ego seated next to me.
My voice came out sounding harsher than I intended. “No. That’s too much of a downer. How about rescue dogs? Something that the audience will viscerally respond to that’s more uplifting.”
Tyler snatched his hand from my leg as if it was bitten. “I don’t support rescue dogs. I support pediatric organ donations and that’s a deal breaker.”
Jeff stepped in and tried to smooth away the obvious tension. “I’m sure we can work out an acceptable storyline. Right, Ms. Winston?”
I rubbed my leg under the table, feeling the warmth leftover from Tyler’s hand fading away. I had to acquiesce, and I certainly couldn’t appear hostile towards the band or Jeff would never bring me on board. “Yes. It’s just not ideal for the show, but we can work something out if it’s so important to Tyler.”
I saw Tyler’s eyes darkening as he watched me. Yeah, he was annoyed with me. Well, I was annoyed with him, too.
I smiled sweetly at Tyler, which only served to darken his scowl.
“Speaking of storylines…” All eyes turned toward the band manager. “I need an idea of the vision of this show and the band needs full creative input.”
Here we go. I jumped in before Jeff could answer. “I will have complete creative control. My team will make all final editing decisions. I will consider your input, Mr. Boyd, but I will be running the show.”
The room grew eerily quiet. “You still haven’t told me what that e
ntails. Will you be following the boys around with cameras while they’re on tour? What’s off limits?”
I could see Tyler listening intently from the corner of my eye. “I want complete access to your tour bus, your concerts, parties, everything… The band will have to agree to be pulled for interviews. I’ll need consent to use concert footage, too. Nothing will be off-limits, Mr. Boyd. If it comes out of your clients’ mouths, I can and will use it. That’s how it works.”
I wasn’t about to sugarcoat the process for him and I certainly didn’t want to start handing out a bunch of exceptions or special clauses for the band.
“But what if we don’t like the direction a certain ‘storyline’, as you call it, is taking?” Scott was pushing back.
I purposefully made my tone more conciliatory. “Look, we’re on the same team here. Your input and comfort level with the project is very important to us. But, no doubt, the band will have to make some concessions for the sake of the show.”
Scott leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. “That’s what I mean, what kind of concessions?”
I arched my brow. “For instance, I will make all the final casting decisions regarding the band’s friends, groupies, love interests… whoever they come in contact with –”
Scott rubbed his head, looking disgusted. “So, everything is going to be scripted?”
“Not scripted. Managed. We certainly won’t have lines that they have to memorize or anything.” I chose my words carefully.
“Will they be able to hang out with their own friends?”
I tapped my pen on my pad. “Of course. We’ll just cast some characters as fans and groupies, just to show the band in the best possible light. But they can’t have girlfriends. I want every female watching to think these guys are available.”
Scott didn’t look happy. “That’ll make the fans even creepier. We’re going to need you to provide security detail.”
Tyler, who had been oddly silent, finally spoke up. “We’ve already got enough security. I don’t want even more.”
Rock Me: Sexy (New Adult Rockstar Romance) (New Adult Rock Star Erotic Romance) Page 3
