What the Gambler Risks

by Kristina Knight

  Connor turned from the window. He watched Miranda for a long moment. Nothing in her countenance said this health plan change was part of a bigger plot to take over his company. Hell, from what he could tell, she had zero contact with her father or anyone else at Clayton Holdings. At least, not from her work computer.

  That didn’t answer why she was in Las Vegas when her father’s empire was in Denver or why she’d pretended that her middle name was her last name to get this job.

  Caleb’s voice echoed in his mind again. Miranda didn’t appear to be his enemy, and while he was figuring out just what she was up to, keeping her in the building might shed more light on Clayton’s overall plans.

  “One percent?”

  She nodded, and a small smile tilted her red lips. “Less than one hundred dollars per month.”

  “You should have presented the plan to me before implementation. When you make a presentation about actual advertising, I’ll expect to be in the loop before any campaigns are launched.”

  She blinked. “If you give me twenty minutes, I’ll have two plans on your desk for review.”

  • • •

  “As much sympathy as I have for the Miranda version of Poor Little Rich Girl, you have to tell him.” The company’s HR head, Lila McAnally, paced Miranda’s office, the heels of her strapped sandals echoing against the mahogany hardwoods. She whirled at the wall and strode back to the window. “I know your dad blocked you from every reporter job, editor’s desk, and sales desk in Denver. I know the TV and radio news directors flinched when he made it clear employing you meant a war with Clayton Holdings. But, Randa, you swore you’d come clean within a month. It’s been nearly five.”

  “I just have to prove to him I can do this job.” She was so close. For the first time, Connor Reeves had agreed to look at her plans. This was the first chance she had had to prove she had more to offer than a pretty face at company events and board meetings. She was damned if she would muck that up by also revealing her true last name. “This is the first shot I’ve had to prove my worth.”

  She’d tried, so hard, during her internships at Clayton, but there she was only seen as William’s daughter, and he had made it clear he had no interest in her business ideas. Her father was stuck in Victorian times, and there was nothing she’d been able to do to change his mind in Denver. Maybe turning around a Las Vegas publisher—one he wanted for himself—would convince him she had something to offer. Miranda clutched the two folders she’d grabbed for her meeting with Connor to her chest. “If this goes well, I’ll tell him.” She drew her lower lip between her teeth and bit down lightly. “I brought him around to the health plan. Maybe he’ll like my tweaks to Vegas Nightly and the new video show too.”

  Lila folded her arms across her chest. “I like my job, Randa. I like working for Connor, and let me tell you, when all three of the brothers are in residence at the office, the eye candy is amazing. You have to tell him.”

  “I know, and I can never repay you for helping me get this far.” When Lila invited her to Vegas for a girl’s weekend last summer, Miranda never expected to put her college roommate in this kind of situation. She had needed a break from the mindless fundraising circuit her parents had had her on. Lila made an offhand remark that Miranda should apply for the VP gig at her office, and things spiraled from there. “I’ll tell Connor. I promise.” She just needed one more chance to get his attention.

  “Whether he likes your plans or not.”

  Miranda hesitated.

  “If you don’t tell him, I will.” Lila watched her for a long moment. “It will probably mean my job as well as yours, but I’d rather be fired for insubordination than corporate spying, and right now this is looking more and more spy-ey than insubordinate.”

  Miranda swallowed, hard, and the knot in her stomach tightened. She liked Connor, too. She liked the way he spoke to his employees. How he kept his hands in all the departments but still allowed his managers to lead. She liked the pinstriped suits he wore, the ones that hinted at firmly muscled arms and chest. She’d always been a sucker for a strong upper body. There was that bit of blond hair that fell over his forehead now and then, making her fingers itch to push it back. He had the iciest blue eyes she’d ever seen. Eyes that should be cold, but instead, made her body overheat.

  No, not thinking about Connor’s looks. So not the time.

  The point was, he was a good boss, a good man, and she didn’t like lying to him. She especially didn’t like putting her friend’s job security on the line. Until today, though, he’d barely allowed her to brew his coffee, a task she’d never mastered. Making this presentation, coupled with the newly approved medical plan, was a step toward professional independence.

  “Okay. I’ll tell him. After he approves the presentation.”

  Lila nodded. She crossed to Miranda’s office door and then turned back. “Now go knock him dead. Your ideas are great.” She left, and the door clicked closed.

  Miranda blew out a breath. They were good ideas. Plans that would complement the strengths of Connor’s employees while playing to the appetites of local readers and viewers.

  “You have a master’s degree in journalism and a bachelor’s in business management,” she told the figure reflected in her window. “You have more to offer than a pretty face or the right last name.” The reflection nodded.

  Twenty minutes later, Miranda wrapped up her main pitch. While she spoke, Connor looked over the graphs and charts she’d brought in to underline the changes to Vegas Nightly. A couple of months before, Connor created the Bachelor of the Month feature, and based on its success, she wanted to add red carpet bloggers to the events on the Strip. Every week, one hotel or another had celebrities throwing parties or hosting events, and their readers clicked those stories like crazy. Making those events the focus of Vegas Nightly Online, their streaming news program, would keep eyes on those stories, which would keep advertisers happy. “We cover the red carpet, we chat with the VIPs there, but the kicker is that we get access to their private party areas. Really take viewers behind the velvet ropes. Not even the Hollywood entertainment news programs have that kind of access.”

  Connor mumbled something she didn’t quite catch, so she continued.

  “We have the equipment already, and the staff. Just a matter of changing up shifts. And the print version would offer more in-depth content. For example, when your brother was the Bachelor of the Month, we could have offered an interview with him; something casual. People want to feel like they know celebrities, especially local celebs. I haven’t talked to the bloggers or reporters, but most of them hit the clubs, anyway. They have the contacts to really show viewers what happens in Vegas.”

  “As long as they don’t get sucked in to the show. They’ll have a job to do.” He made a few notes on the pad before him, and Miranda wanted to crane her neck to see what he wrote. Instead, she kept to her seat across the desk from him, clasping her hands in her lap.

  “Getting paid to attend parties … I think they’ll jump at the chance.”

  “Would you?”

  “Get paid to party?” She thought about the options for a moment. Wasn’t that what her father had offered? Take a generous salary from the publishing company but spend her time on boards and at charity events. Not quite the same as actually reporting on Vegas nightlife. “I would,” she decided.

  Connor grimaced. “I hate parties.”

  “You do?”

  “Everyone trying to be happier than everyone else. It’s maddening.”

  “They why operate an entertainment news magazine and video property?”

  “Because I got a great deal on the printing press.”

  “Oh.”

  “Not the answer you were looking for?” He glanced at her. “You thought I had some deep-seated need to report on what the Kardashians do in Vegas?” Connor shook his head. “Nothing quite so shallow.”

  Miranda crossed her legs and sat forward in her chair. “You don’t love the
smell of ink on a press? The sound of the pages as they zip through the stiles?”

  “Actually, those are two of my favorite things,” he said after a moment. Connor returned his attention to the papers on his desk, and Miranda took a moment to study him.

  That shock of dark blond hair fell over his forehead, and he kept pushing it back into place. She couldn’t see his eyes, but she’d watched him enough over the past months to know the blue of his eyes would be darker because of his concentration. He’d hung his pinstriped, navy suit coat over the back of his chair, and his crisp, white sleeves were rolled to his elbows, showing off strong forearms with a smattering of short hairs over his skin.

  He twisted his mouth to the side again, and again made notations on the small pad to his left. She’d never noticed before he was left-handed. Connor flipped between a few pages, and the little crease between his eyes deepened. Her mouth went dry, but she refused to lick her lips. Yes, he looked good in the suit. Yes, he looked better a little disheveled as he was now, and yes, she wanted to run her hands through that mop of hair.

  But he was her boss. This job was too important for her to think of him in any other way. He didn’t even know who she really was, for crying out loud.

  Connor looked up, and Miranda’s face heated. “These are decent ideas.”

  Miranda focused her words before allowing herself to speak. “I know. The biggest changes will be to layout, as you can see—”

  “The layout works.” His voice was flat, and he kept his attention on the papers in his hands, which crinkled when he clenched his hands tighter.

  “No, it doesn’t. It’s clunky. All the navigation goes back to the main page, the writers aren’t deep linking, and related articles and blogs should appear on the sidebar of each piece.”

  “The search feature takes care of that.”

  Miranda shook her head. “Readers will use the search feature on retail sites; most of them don’t think to search for other references to Leonardo DiCaprio or the Kardashians. We need to keep them glued, deep linking, and showing related articles will do that.” Nervous butterflies beat in her belly.

  “I’ll consider a redesign,” Connor said after a long moment. “My plans for the video segment are in line with what you’ve laid out, and I like the additions to the print edition.”

  He liked her ideas. He liked them. Miranda wanted to Snoopy dance around the office but settled for squeezing her hands in her lap.

  “Thank you.” Now was the time. Tell him who she was, apologize for the subterfuge, and then beg him to keep her job. “I wanted to—”

  Connor pushed his chair away from the desk and began unfolding the sleeves of his shirt. “I’m late for an appointment with one of the hotels on the strip. Let’s look at implementation of these ideas tomorrow morning.” He grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and pulled it over his shoulders. “Ten o’clock?”

  Relief washed through her. She had another day to figure out how to tell him who she was without getting fired from the only real job she’d ever held. “I’ll have preliminary numbers and schedules ready,” she said.

  Connor nodded, put a few folders into his briefcase, and motioned her to the hallway. For a few moments they were side by side, their steps in sync, and Miranda could feel the heat from his body. She swallowed.

  Connor paused at her door. Miranda clasped the knob in her hand, feeling the cool metal of the handle against the small of her back.

  “See you in the morning,” he said and continued down the hall, leaving her outside her office door. Her heart seemed to flutter in her chest. Miranda shook her head. What was going on with her? Feeling all giddy as she walked the hall with her boss was so not in her best interests. She needed to be focused on the business, not the animal magnetism of a man in a great suit.

  He liked her ideas, and that was huge. She wouldn’t mess that up with a silly office crush.

  Especially when she still had to figure out a way to keep her job once he found out who she really was.

  To purchase this ebook and learn more about the author, click here.

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