Beautiful Crazy Part 5

Time to wrap this up and seal the deal. No way could she let the big a.s.shole and his pitch steal her thunder. "In conclusion, I think you need to focus on a few key issues-how to get the most bang for your buck and how to grow your fan base organically." She paused and looked around the table. They were listening. Waiting for her to finish. Interested.

"Jolt is not only the hands-on kind of agency you need, but I love your music, and I'm part of your target market. You can't buy that kind of authenticity."

Turning to look directly at Mason's reddening face, she drew a deep breath. "I know why a big firm is interested in you guys. You're going to be huge without Jolt or GEM. But signing with a monolithic corporation means getting lost among all the other major label acts they cater to. With Jolt, you'd be the main act, and our time and resources would be devoted to promoting you. Besides, Mason Dillon wouldn't know cool if he woke up next to it."

Chapter 6.

Mason was torn like a day-old concert ticket. On the one hand, he was p.i.s.sed at Kevan's low blows and repeated hits to GEM and his leadership. On the other, she was right in oh so many ways. Even more, she wasn't just a pretty face anymore. Nor was she only a hot, pinup body with curves he could get lost in. She'd proven she had the brains to back up the bod. In a word, she was a challenge.

And he liked a challenge.

The idea that she knew who he was shouldn't bother him, but it did. Was the connection they had even real? Had she felt what he had felt last night, or had it all been bulls.h.i.t? It had been a long time since someone had pulled one over on Mason "The Ice Man" Dillon.

Nail this, Dillon. Doesn't matter if she knew. You got this.

Standing, he took the cable from Kevan and plugged his laptop into the projector. His pulse was a steady thrum in his ears. Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh. The screen displayed the vibrant colors of the paused video demo his creative group had put together for prospective clients.

He cleared his throat and rolled the tension out of his shoulders. Time to go to work.

"Thank you, Ms. Landry, for highlighting GEM's a.s.sets and ill.u.s.trating the vast resources and connections we utilize to make our artists money. A lot of money." Mason smiled at Kevan as she sat rigidly in her seat. Her flinty stare never left his face.

"The ability to send a tweet and gather a thousand Facebook friends doesn't make you a marketing expert, but Ms. Landry does have a point. GEM has a long, successful history in the entertainment industry, and in the past, has targeted more established, conventional artists."

Mason clicked the projector, and the slide changed just as Kevan turned her chair to face the screen and crossed and recrossed her legs.

f.u.c.k. Those legs.

Ignore her. Do your magic.

"The music business has transformed over the last decade, and we've rolled with it. We'd really like to make Manix Curse the cornerstone of an edgier brand of our client portfolio, one that targets a younger demographic, but still utilizes our established industry expertise to help grow the band's fan base and earning potential."

To emphasize his point, he gave his patented "trust me" grin and pointed it at the band, desperately trying to blot out the aggravating woman sitting at the end of the conference table. Her jabs and unyielding attack had set everyone on edge.

"And how do you plan to do that, Mason?" The tall, wiry drummer asked, a glint of defiance in his eyes.

Had the drummer realized the tte--tte between him and Kevan had gone beyond the boardroom? He'd seen Jax with Kevan before the band had hit the stage last night. Yes, he'd noticed her earlier but had a.s.sumed she was just a fan.

"Great question, Jax. After studying your band and your fans, we've concluded we should focus on three key areas-sponsorship opportunities, greater exposure through higher profile events and tours, and a record deal with an established recording company."

"Who is 'we'?" Marco threw in, tossing back his long, braided hair.

"My market research team was responsible for the data in this video. As you watch, keep in mind we can produce professional-grade videos for the band, too."

"Putting something on the Internet doesn't mean anything. Contrary to popular belief, videos don't go viral by themselves," Kevan interjected, her voice rising. "It takes strategy and planned effort."

"I can also distribute them through the traditional media channels, like MTV. Regardless, I'd like to take a more boutique approach and work with you directly."

Joe nodded his head. Apparently, he liked the idea.

"One of the benefits of going with GEM is our relationship with potential sponsors and industry media outlets. We could explore opportunities with equipment manufacturers, drum and guitar makers, energy drink distributors. The list is endless." He had their attention now.

Kevan appeared to examine her nails, except for the occasional burst of air from her mouth, which sounded suspiciously like disbelief.

"Our mainstream media connections can be useful, as many of those groups also own metal and hard rock media properties, both print and online."

"Dude, like Metal Maniac magazine? How f.u.c.king cool would it be to be their featured ba.s.sist?" Conner grinned widely at his band members, who stared at him in disbelief. Did he not smile often, or were they all already on Kevan's side?

"You're such an egomaniac," Mandi said. Obviously, it was her job to keep her metal men in line, because Conner looked duly contrite as he bowed his head, but Mason caught him throwing a secret thumbs-up to Marco.

Mason's usual confidence grew as the band radiated enthusiasm for his plan. "Metal Maniac is owned by a media conglomerate we do a lot of work with."

These guys wanted to be rock stars, and he was their answer to the big time. Now to clinch the deal. "The biggest piece to your success puzzle entails ascertaining a substantive recording contract. I'd like to shop you around and try to negotiate a plan that would include an advance, travel cost, and support, as well as the best royalty options. Maybe some higher-end equipment."

Check and mate.

"Which of your partner labels would be interested in Manix? I mean, do you think Lady Gaga's label is going to take a second look at a heavy metal band?" Kevan scoffed. Mandi and Jax laughed. Kevan was starting to play dirtier, and he was fighting the call to lower to her level.

His face flamed, and he nearly lost his tightly held control. Instead, he replied, "Actually, Ms. Landry, I have a lot of success signing artists with almost every major label, several of which cater to the markets Manix Curse entertains, including both Metallica's and Korn's labels." Take that, little Ms. Music Diva.

"And now here's a short video we put together, highlighting some of our successes over the last several years." He flipped off the lights and pressed the play icon on his laptop before sitting across from his former lover and current business enemy. The sweet vanilla smell he'd whiffed when she'd fallen stayed in his nose, wreaking havoc with his concentration.

As everyone focused on the film, Mason glanced around the table at the rapt faces of Joe and his band. He smiled to himself, pleased he'd begun to win them over. His eyes latched on to Kevan, the colors from the demo reflecting on her unblemished porcelain skin. Her body language showed strength and control, but her shadowed eyes gave hint to a gloomy sadness within. Not your problem, Dillon. This was business. He was a take-no-prisoners kind of guy.

After the fifteen-minute presentation finished, Mason stood and flipped the lights back on. He turned to Joe and the band. "Any questions?"

They all shook their heads. "I'd really like to thank you for meeting with us today," Joe said. "You both have great plans for leveraging the momentum of this band. It would be extremely difficult to decide between the two paths suggested." Joe paused and took a deep breath.

"Which is why I'd like to take both of you on tour with us. We have a small marketing and PR budget and want to see what each of you brings to the table-not just in theory, but in practice. The tour is eight shows over a week and a half, but you'll get a chance to show us firsthand what you're capable of doing for the band." He looked from Kevan to Mason. "What do you say?"

The room was heavy with silence. Kevan's eyes were wide, and her mouth formed a grim line. She was definitely not happy. In fact, she looked like she might hate him. Was she as off balance as he felt? Strange. Off balance wasn't usually a feeling he had to deal with.

People usually sought out his expertise. He wasn't used to being pitted against newcomers and minor agencies. For years, he'd had a reputation as the marketing golden boy because of his ability to pluck seemingly unknown acts from obscurity and catapult them into superstar status overnight. Pop bands and coffeehouse musicians definitely wanted him on their side. Promoters and marketers wanted to work for him.

Kevan took a long pull from her bottle of water as her eyes darted back and forth between the people at the table. Was that panic starting to flood her expression? Mason knew she'd never go for the tour, since she could hardly stand to spend five more minutes in his presence, let alone two weeks. For some reason, the fact that she looked like she might dart from the room-and he might never see her again-rubbed him the wrong way.

Even though, technically, he was the one who'd left that morning. And he didn't do repeat nights with the same woman. And Kevan was now the compet.i.tion.

"Honestly, Joe, I appreciate the opportunity, but I need a little time to think this over," Kevan said quickly before Mason had a chance to respond.

"Well, why don't you both take a day and give me a call? We hit the road at daybreak on Tuesday and head for Eugene first, then down the West Coast. Laura can email you the schedule."

After some hurried handshakes, it was over. Before he could stop her, Kevan said her quick farewells and charged out of the room, reminding him of those cartoon characters with bright red faces and steam shooting from their ears. He remained professional, but cut his good-byes short and rushed out after her. What was it about this woman that got under his skin? Even after she had tried to gut him in the meeting, he still couldn't stand to see her walk away.

I walked away first.

He'd been irritated and even a little angered by her confrontational att.i.tude, but throughout the meeting, she'd held her own, sharing innovative ideas and a clear concept of her plan for the band. A completely different, more gra.s.sroots plan than his, but still good-very good. Her contrasting and conflicting facets fascinated him. Light and dark juxtaposed with hot and cold. Despite his initial impression of her good-time-girl personality, she was all business in the conference room-professional and polished-so unlike the spirited woman who'd come apart beneath him hours before. Her genuine shock at his presence in Joe's conference room led him to believe that maybe he'd misjudged her. Perhaps she hadn't known who he was.

Since joining GEM right out of college, his pa.s.sion and business ac.u.men were well respected throughout the entertainment industry. Or had been until he'd learned his job was in jeopardy. For the first time, the heavy pall of doubt had clouded his usually razor-sharp decision-making skills. Then the stunning Kevan Landry had wiggled her curvy, inked a.s.s and blue-streaked hair into his head and had stayed firmly embedded there for the last several hours.

Mason had been waiting for her when she'd swayed into the room. When she'd walked in, she'd been even more mesmerizing in her business attire-s.e.xy fifties secretary-than she'd been the night before. Warmth had flooded his chest at the pinkish bite mark peeking out from under the edge of her blouse. The image of her naked on his lap, his c.o.c.k buried deep inside her, and the thought of sinking his teeth into the sensitive spot on her shoulder had triggered one h.e.l.l of a hard-on.

And then she was falling. Again.

A few quick strides, and he'd caught her before she'd fallen too far. Again. Secretly hoping it would become a trend. Her falling. Him catching.

The meeting had pa.s.sed too quickly, in Mason's professional opinion. Joe's request to accompany the band on tour should have offended him. However, he understood their hesitancy with his inexperience in their genre of music and with their demographic. He also understood they might have some loyalty to Kevan's company. But eventually, he'd obtain the contract, even if it took more time and work than he'd antic.i.p.ated.

Mason pushed out the door of Joe's office, brushing off the colliding thoughts he had about Kevan. When he finally caught up to her, she stood next to her car, fumbling with her oversized purse.

"Kevan," he called, hurried but not out of breath.

Jogging up, he saw her glance up and her eyes narrow, just before she yanked her keys from her purse, sending them flying from her hand onto the pavement. "Dammit," she said. Hiking up her skirt, she leaned over to pick them up and flashed her lickable rack.

Quickly, he stooped next to her, grabbed the keys, and stuck them in his pocket.

Her pouty lips curved down as she straightened herself. She looked pretty p.i.s.sed, with a pinched scowl marring her delicate features.

"Give me my keys." She thrust her hand out palm up, and her other hand fisted on her hip.

"Not until we talk."

"About how you're a f.u.c.king liar? About how you're poaching my band like you stole Demon Hill? Did you know I was there to sign Manix? Did you creep around my house, looking for my presentation?"

"No. I had no idea who you were. Did you know who I was?" His voice was getting louder.

Breathe. Don't let her get under your skin. Just another day at the office.

"Are you for real? You snuck out of my house like you were ashamed to spend the night with me."

Wow. Toxic anger dripped from her tongue. This might be harder than he'd thought. And who the f.u.c.k would be ashamed of banging a smart, smoking-hot woman like Kevan?

"Oh, or do you want to talk about how we aren't spending two weeks together on a smelly, dirty tour bus? About how I hate you and never want to see your smug face again? See, nothing to talk about."

Kevan spun on her heels and stalked down the street. She probably wouldn't get half a block before her feet started bleeding in those mile-high f.u.c.k-me heels. G.o.d, even in all her glorious anger, she was s.e.xy as all h.e.l.l.

Then something occurred to him. Sometimes his brilliance surprised even him. Maybe he could have some fun with Kevan, since he'd missed her warm body the minute he'd closed the door on her tiny apartment. What was wrong with mixing a little business with pleasure? They were obviously compatible in bed. And they both wanted to sign the same band. Close quarters with his fiery little wet dream might be exactly what he needed to end what was becoming a tiresome trudge of women and gratuitous dates. Especially now that he was pretty sure she hadn't had any idea who he was when she'd taken him home last night.

"Kevan. Stop running away from me." d.a.m.n woman. She had him yelling again. "I didn't know you were interested in Manix Curse until I saw the papers on your table this morning. And I definitely didn't know about Demon Hill."

Without turning, she raised her arm and extended her middle finger. She continued stomping away from him toward the strip mall bordering the parking lot.

"So, that's it? You're afraid of a little compet.i.tion, so you run? Never pegged you as a coward."

Immediately, she stopped and swiveled.

"I'm not afraid of you," she yelled and took a few steps back toward him. "You're the past, Mason, and I'm the G.o.dd.a.m.n future. You don't know a thing about repping a band like Manix." Her high heels stomped that asphalt as she marched up to him and stabbed her red, manicured finger in his chest. "Your pressed Armani suits will get you laughed off the tour bus like a bad f.u.c.king joke. How long has it been since you've been on the street with one of your clients? You can't just take Manix Curse for overpriced gin and tonics at the club," she said, her voice full of venomous condescension.

What the h.e.l.l does she know?

"I may have been growing one of the biggest West Coast music marketing companies, but that doesn't mean I've forgotten how to get s.h.i.t done, sweetheart." It was none of her business that his company had needed new talent for some time, and unless he delivered fresh blood, he was going to be their sacrificial lamb.

Hot anger boiled in his veins and battled with the memory of that same finger dragging down his chest early that morning.

"You don't get to call me sweetheart. You don't get to call me anything. You are exactly who I said you were." Her voice dropped low.

Mason grabbed her hand and tugged her close. Her sugary scent washed over him. "You didn't seem to mind when I called you sweetheart last night and early this morning." He cringed at the drawl that crept back into his voice, along with his increased arousal. She was messing with his head. Or heads.

She yanked her fingers from his hand. "Go f.u.c.k yourself. Because one night with me is all you're ever gonna get."

A surge of anger crackled in his veins. Before he could stop himself, he said, "One night is all I usually offer, darlin'."

Without warning, the sharp sting of her palm met with his face. Surprised, he took a step back. Kevan gasped. Her eyes widened in horror. Then sharpened again. "I know I should be sorry, but I'm not. You are a smug a.s.shat."

"Maybe. But you don't see me acting like a p.i.s.sed-off teenager." A p.r.i.c.kle of guilt for leaving this morning without an explanation crept into his head.

She clenched both fists, but a quick shadow of desperation, or maybe regret, shone from the depths of her eyes. He wanted to take the desperation from her and chase it away. But he was too p.i.s.sed, and he knew soothing her would only force her to push him away again. A lyric from the White Stripes song "p.r.i.c.kly Thorn, But Sweetly Worn" popped into his head.

G.o.dd.a.m.n infuriating woman. Sweet one minute and freaking out the next. He knew he could convince the band to sign with him, especially if they saw him in action. But wouldn't it be sweeter if he could work out his l.u.s.t for Kevan and get the band? But at this rate, she wasn't going anywhere with him.

"You're a liar, and you used me to get ahead of the compet.i.tion. Just like the sneaky corporate suit you are," she said.

"Don't remember any talk of business or compet.i.tion. The only thing I remember is your hot little body writhing under mine, crying out my name." Leaning forward, he bent down to eye level and heard her quick intake of breath as he looked directly into her eyes. "I didn't know your connection to the band."

Her eyes shot icicles at him, but their gazes remained locked. To convince her to go on tour, he needed to do it in a way that she felt she was the making the decision. Not him. And he couldn't pin her hands behind her and kiss her into agreeing. Nor could he bend her over his knee and spank her beautiful a.s.s until his hand stung. He'd never earn back this fiery woman's body unless it was completely on her terms. Or, at least, she thought it was. This was a whole new animal for him. He'd never pursued a woman. Kevan Landry presented him with yet another challenge. A new plan bubbled up and took shape.

"You need this contract, don't you?" he asked, and she bobbed her chin tersely. "Then why would you say no?"

She shifted her dainty shoulders, the bite mark flashing him as her blouse shifted. Yeah, he needed to get this band signed and get into Kevan Landry another time or two. She stared at her nails, turning them from front to back, examining them. She muttered inaudibly.

Time to ratchet this up a notch. "I can't hear you. One minute you're screaming and slapping at me like a madwoman, and the next you're practically whispering and shuffling like a nervous child." Trying for his most imperious and intimidating look, he stood tall, arms across his chest, one eyebrow drawn up.

"It's none of your business. I'm none of your business."

"I asked a simple question. Why won't you go on the tour? What's the harm?"

She peered up at him through her dark lashes. "Look, I know I was an easy hookup. But you're a d.i.c.k for leaving after looking at my presentation and then showing up here. I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Why?"

"I...I can't."