Elite (Elite Doms of Washington Book 1)
Page 33
“Mr. Whitestone, we have been working with your firm for over a year. Your competition is getting more ink and more play on social media than you. Media attention requires giving us some news. You need more transparency about your firm.” She could feel his regard burn through her blouse, now damp from nerves. Or lust? “I recognize Mr. Drake may not appreciate the process, but—”
“I know all about news generation, Miss Chantelle.” His words pierced the air. He was probably annoyed she’d dare challenge him. But she’d also learned over the last four months of handling his company’s public relations, he enjoyed verbal jousting. She had hoped today wasn’t one of those days.
“Tell me something I don’t know.” He leaned back in his chair.
“You have twice the business of any other firm in your field, yet a quarter of its visibility.”
“Based on what calculation?”
“Page fifteen of my proposal. Charts and everything.” A thin surge of victory filled her at the surprise on his face. But the pursed mouths around the table showed her the snippy tone wasn’t appreciated. “We just want to bring Whitestone into the twenty-first century,” she added. Okay, probably not the best comeback. But Whitestone International needed a full image makeover, stat.
Carson sat motionless. “I fail to see how changing the colors of our corporate logo will be entering the new century.”
“Rebranding is more than a logo, Mr. Drake. What I meant to say—”
“We know what you meant, Miss Chantelle,” Mr. Whitestone said.
“I’m not sure I understand.” Carson said. “Continue. Enlighten us with your wisdom.”
“I apologize if I offended. I meant we want your audiences to see you for who you really are. Your current branding does not do you justice.” There. That was a vice presidential thing to say, right?
“I understand you’ve worked hard on this proposal.” He tapped her packet. “But I have serious reservations about spending this money right now. I move we wait a few months.”
“Agreed.” Of course, the CFO agreed. She’d labeled him the “Miser.” He’d rub two nickels together to see if they’d mate before spending either of them.
She gripped her notes tighter. “You have two acquisitions coming up, and launching the news under the new brand would be wise.”
In her peripheral vision she caught the other two members of the executive team watching Carson. She’d been in many meetings with this group. As usual, all eyes turned to him when a decision was at hand.
He didn’t seem to notice as his unsmiling face focused on hers. A muscle in his jaw twitched. No man should have such perfect cheekbones. Mustering as much fierceness as she could, she matched his gaze. She imagined few people could hold his alpha stare for very long. She wanted to drop her eyes to her lap. She saw him surrounded by a bevy of women dropping before him in supplication. This man had to have women parading through his bedroom every night. Anyone that looked like him would.
Mr. Whitestone’s voice cut through her ridiculous musings. “Carson, I agree. But the idea has merit. Miss Chantelle. Tell Mr. Brennan we need more time. You may not get the full budget you’ve proposed. But we’ll consider the effort.”
“Thank you.” Thank God. She really needed $300,000. If she bagged at least that amount, she’d have scored a touchdown for her firm.
She closed her portfolio. “I’ll give you a call on Monday to see if you’ve rethought your position over the weekend. We’d want to get started right away.”
“We’ll call you.” Mr. Whitestone stood.
Carson glared at her. He looks like he wants to spank me. She flushed. Stop it. You are Y&B’s next rising star.
As she gathered her things, she took a deep inhale of the warm scent of tobacco and expensive leather that Carson left in his wake. Her female parts clenched in a very un-executive way. She hoped he couldn’t hear the thumping knocks of her heartbeat. Clearly her heart hadn’t gotten the I-won’t-be-affected memo.
“Mr. Drake,” she said before her courage fled. “Did you even read my proposal?”
He turned to her in the doorway. “What do you think?”
She had no idea what to think. The searing smile he gave her held intense dislike. Only Carson Drake could put someone in their place with a grin.
He walked her to the lobby in silence. Her legs rubbed together, the friction heating her thighs. Those foolish, foolish suggestive thoughts returned.
“Miss Chantelle.” He held the glass door open for her. His gentlemanly move surprised her. Someone important must be watching.
She skirted outside to join the taxi line before she said something she’d regret.
She checked her watch. It was almost five o’clock. She had two hours until she met Michael—a man who never should have been more than a coworker. He was the last loose end to tie up before approaching Mr. Brennan with the idea of her promotion. And finally advance her life.
As she eased herself into the cab, she noticed that Carson still stood behind the lobby’s windows. She turned her back on his curious stare. Perhaps she’d gotten to him. Nah. She doubted he gave her a second thought out of the office. She wished she could say the same.
Well, today was a new day. Vice presidents weren’t overcome by erotic daydreams. They kicked ass.
~ ~ ~
Carson stared out the window long after London’s taxicab disappeared into traffic.
He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her today. She kept crossing and recrossing those luscious, tanned legs underneath the glass conference table. Then when she leaned forward to pass him her proposal? The top button of her silk blouse threatened to release. He spent the rest of the meeting anticipating its pop. It didn’t.
He wasn’t sorry he’d given her such a hard time about her idea to rebrand Whitestone. He’d always had the ability to discern people’s true desires and just how far he could push. London needed verbal sparring. Only then would the fatigue and worry in her eyes lift. Her décolletage would flush a beautiful peach color. Her eyes would fire defiantly, and she’d lift that chin in a haughty salute as if he was the biggest jerk on the planet. All her nervousness would vanish.
He stepped into the elevator bank and inhaled London’s lingering perfume. The scent matched her personality. Spicy. And complicated.
Today, she’d fidgeted on that beautiful ass more than usual, which teased his desire to stroke her defiance even more. You wanted to stroke more than that.
She was smart, dynamic and a challenge. With a great behind.
While he had no interest in romantic complications, he often imagined the kind of man she would respond to outside the boardroom. It wouldn’t be someone who’d break her like a wild horse. Or even relegate her to a corral. No, London Chantelle needed to be haltered, gentled and understood. All that energy channeled.
He punched his floor’s button and told his cock to stand down. He scrolled through his e-mail on his phone as the elevator lurched upward. London had already sent a follow-up email, ostensibly from her cab. The woman who never quits? Jesus, what a pistol. His own pistol remained cocked and ready.
He really needed to get a handle on his reaction to this woman.
He’d learned his lesson long ago. Two years negotiating divorce settlements in his early days cured him of trusting any immediate attraction. He’d seen too many relationships dissolve under the harsh light of day. Men shattered by angry, disillusioned females. He’d encountered a few of those harpies himself, beginning with his first serious girlfriend in college. Now safe, short-term, uncomplicated liaisons suited him fine.
By the time he stepped out of the elevator into his office floor, London’s scent had dissipated. But he couldn’t shake the image of her slipping those legs into the taxicab. Given it was late on a Friday, he wondered where she was headed. Not anywhere you are, man. Jaded or not, he couldn’t help thinking what a pity that was.
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About the Author
Elizabeth SaFleur writes romance that dares to “go there” from 28 wildlife-filled acres, dances in her spare time and is a certifiable tea snob. When not immersed in books she can be found burlesque dancing or drinking good, Virginia wine. Find out more about Elizabeth on her web site, like her Facebook page or join her private Facebook group, Elizabeth’s Playroom. Follow her on Twitter and Instagram, too!