The Billionaire's Sexy Rival (Jameson Brothers Book 3) Page 2

  And she was strangely okay with it.

  She cut a quick sideways glance at William as they both migrated toward the front of the room. He was exchanging pleasantries, and she was doing the same, shaking hands and watching him all the while. The photos she saw of him around the subway—not to mention the splash pages in magazines showcasing his opulent life outside of the office—really didn't do the man justice. The way he carried himself, you'd think he rolled out of his California King every morning with his dark hair perfectly coiffed; the shadow of his stubble perfectly maintained; the dimples…

  Oh lord, the dimples. Did they Photoshop them out of all his professional photos? William didn't smile often, but when his generous lips did flex in the vague direction of mirth, his stern jaw gave way to a perfectly symmetrical pair of dimples. They made his cheekbones more defined, his dark, almond-shaped eyes more curved and crinkled. Up close, he was a completely irresistible specimen of a human being.

  And he definitely knew it.

  "Ms. Hanniford? Would you like to start us off?"

  Poppy blinked slowly to disguise the fact that she needed to mentally come back down to earth. Several potential clients had that look of expectation in their eyes, and she nodded. She knew what was being asked of her without having been present the last several seconds. William watched her, and one of his dimples resurfaced; he looked distinctly amused. Poppy wondered if he could see past her mask of calm.

  She nodded and moved to the front of the room. The others took their seats; William remained standing. He leaned back against her side of the table and crossed his arms. Poppy wondered if he knew just how distracting his impressive forearms were. She cleared her throat.

  "I just want to take a quick moment to thank you for the opportunity you've extended to Wildflower Agency," she began. "I speak for everyone back at my office when I say just how excited I am to be here today." She spoke her introduction easily, confidently. She saw the stiff bodies inside the little boardroom begin to relax as she massaged them with her pitch.

  "…and I have here a mockup of what the social media spot would look like, if you'll turn your attention to the board your lovely secretary is wheeling in…"

  Poppy continued an explanation of her vision—more accurately, her intern's amateur bastardization of her vision—as she called attention to points of interest in the larger-than-life graphics she had brought with her. She preferred tangible presentation elements to projections or PowerPoints. She could see her audience nodding along, and better yet, leaning in to discuss with their neighbors as she carried on.

  "…that being said, I think the ideas that the Jameson Ad Agency has brought with them today would result in a superior product," she concluded. "I'm happy to give the floor up now and segue into Mr. Jameson's presentation."

  A surprised murmur rippled through the boardroom. William, for once, looked completely thrown off his game. She could see it in the clench of his hands gripping the conference table. He was very good at hiding his reaction, but Poppy knew the signs. She often surprised people the way she had just surprised William. And it wasn't just some tactic to undermine his calm—no matter what his puzzled gaze quietly accused her of.

  Poppy motioned to the empty spot beside her. After a moment's consideration, William pushed off from the table to join her at the front of the room. He was an intelligent man. He would take the opportunity given to him. Poppy sidestepped to allow him the floor.

  "Jumping off from what Miss Hanniford was saying, I find her approach well-considered, and her reasoning completely sound. With that in mind…" William flowed dazzlingly into his own idea for the media spot, as if he needed no introduction, and no segue was required. Poppy couldn't help but watch admiringly; his hands swept the air, he held his audience with his gaze…until that gaze slid her way.

  "…something like that, Miss Hanniford?"

  "I couldn't have said it better myself, Mr. Jameson." She meant it, and she let her agreement show in her smile. Was it her imagination, or did William lean toward her then, just a little? It was hard to tell where her presentation ended, and his began…and it was harder still to track their distance from one another when her full attention was completely caught up in him.

  "Wonderful!"

  Poppy blinked and turned from William back to their audience. The head of Love Connection Publishing rose from her chair and offered a small, singular applause; judging by the looks exchanged by the others at the table, this sort of reception had never happened in the boardroom before.

  "I want you. Both of you," the head emphasized, her eyes tracking between them. "We're going to proceed with the interview process, but I want the two of you working together every step of the way."

  Poppy exchanged looks with William. "This is highly unorthodox…" William said, but he appeared at a loss. Poppy had to privately agree with him, although she wondered at the dismay in his tone. It was as if the client had personally insulted him with her indecision. Poppy herself had been under the impression that today's presentation would be the deciding factor when it came to which agency the publishing house wanted representing it. She had thought Jameson Agency would win the deal with their pitch.

  But she didn't betray her puzzlement now as much as William did. Whatever his problem was, she could use it to her advantage to look like the bigger man…so to speak. She turned back to the head of the house, smiling gamely. "All right. So a collaboration going forward between agencies is what you have in mind?"

  The publisher nodded. "I can only see good things resulting from the tete-a-tete the two of you engaged in today. If you accept my offer, the two of you will be working together with the panel of authors I have lined up for Conventional Romance this year. The person who works most successfully with the members of our panel, and helps our authors to successfully create and present materials to promote Love Connection at the con, will be the one awarded the account."

  Poppy nodded. "Conventional Romance" was the biggest annual romance writers' convention to appear in New York City, if not the entire country, and the press coverage of the event was only ramping up with each passing year. Conventions were getting airtime, as was the motley assortment of content creators, cosplay fans, and fringe enthusiasts who attended them with such devotion and vigor. It was an incredible opportunity to promote her client, not to mention her own business—even if she did have to share the opportunity with her agency's biggest rival.

  "And how will the interview process be judged going forward?" William asked.

  "I'm so glad you asked." The publisher came around to their side of the table and leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest. She appeared to be sizing William up over the trendy frames of her glasses—not as a sexually interested woman sizes up a man, Poppy thought, but as a writer sizes up a potential muse. It amused Poppy to think that a hero of William's description might soon be appearing between the covers of a steamy romance novel. "Your performance will be judged on how well you work within the author group. I'm excited to see which one of you pulls out all the stops and brings the most to the table for my house and its writers."

  Is it just me, or did she emphasize the word 'performance'? Poppy mastered a wicked grin at William's expense. She had to hand it to him, if he was at all uncomfortable being pinned by the needle-sharp gaze of this professional woman, he hid it well.

  "I assure everyone in this boardroom that Jameson Agency won't let you down," William said.

  "Wildflower Agency blooms beautifully under pressure," Poppy agreed with a grin. She knew her audience, and could tell that they approved of her metaphor.

  "Excellent. I look forward to seeing what the two of you come up with." The publisher took turns shaking hands with the two of them, before motioning for them to exit at their leisure. Poppy gathered up her documents, then leaned across the table to help herself to one of the muffins. When she straightened, she noticed William's dark eyes burning into her. She couldn't tell what he was thinking when he looked at
her like that—all she knew was she felt the intensity in his gaze in the pit of her stomach, and possibly lower…

  But it was no use trying to mind-read someone like William. He may look mild-mannered and distinguished on the outside, but Poppy knew there was more going on below the surface. Beneath still waters a shark-churned current roiled.

  He held the door for her on their way out. Poppy accepted the gesture, taking a bite off the top of her muffin as if she hadn't even noticed. William followed after.

  "Well, that was interesting," he muttered as soon as they were out in the hallway.

  "I agree," she replied. "But that's how I like to keep my life: interesting. Unpredictable."

  "I think you've succeeded," he said. "Even if it's at the immediate expense of clinching your client."

  "Oh, I'm not worried." Poppy took another dismissive bite of her muffin. She was worried. She wanted so badly to add the publishing house to her roster, but William and his agency were proving to be stiff competition already. He had learned a thing or two from tangling with her in the past, and understood now that she wasn't to be overlooked. Even old agency dogs can learn new tricks…not that William was particularly old, but he was CEO of an agency that had been established long before either of them were born. "Only they can decide what's best for them," she added.

  "I find that an extremely interesting, if misguided, approach to take." William held his hand out to her. Poppy didn't allow herself a split second's hesitation. She grasped it, knowing full well what was coming.

  The pressure of his handshake was instantaneous: his grip was powerful, his fingers and palm contracting together to dwarf her. Poppy had never been so aware of the petite size of her own hands than she was in that moment. Still, it was a power play she was all too familiar with, and she wasn't about to back down just because William might be physically stronger than she was. She tightened her fingers and clutched him back with all her might. She saw one of William's dimples leap approvingly into prominence.

  "Congratulations on winning the first round, Mr. Jameson," she said.

  He crooked a dark, perfectly-maintained eyebrow at her. "I beg your pardon?"

  "You didn't think you'd won the war, did you? Just because I promoted your design over my own?" Poppy let the smile bloom across her face slowly, drawing her painted lips back over what she knew to be a set of immaculate, pristine white teeth. She wanted to dazzle him as much as she suddenly wanted to demolish him. William may wind up coming out on top when all was said and done, but that didn't mean she couldn't give it all she had. She would fight fairly for this contract, but she would fight.

  "I wasn't aware that we were at war, Miss Hanniford," William remarked. "And if we are, I certainly don't expect my enemy to concede to me as easily as you did today. It shows a lack of strong leadership, to the employees that depend on you for a paycheck…and to me."

  The hand that held hers tightened. Their arms no longer moved in the up and down rhythm that made a handshake. Poppy gazed unflinchingly into William's deep, dark eyes.

  "I concede when I know I am beaten," she replied icily. "And I'm not often beaten. I would think you and your agency know that better than anyone, Mr. Jameson." She extracted her hand from his; at the last instant, when she thought he wouldn't let her go, he allowed her to slip free. Her skin tingled with the memory of his grip. Poppy hoped it wasn't a sign of nerve damage.

  She hoped the tingling didn't signal something else, either.

  "Good day, Mr. Jameson."

  "Good day, Miss Hanniford."

  They parted ways coolly, in stark contrast to Poppy's skin, which still burned fever-hot hours later where William Jameson had touched her.

  Chapter Three

  William

  William never thought the day would come that he would see his younger brother Sam boasting a tan. Eddie had always been the outdoorsman of the three of them, but even William managed to see enough sun to give himself some healthy color. In the past, Sam had always appeared as icy on the outside as his personality and business dealings were within. He never used to leave the office if he could help it, and his skin had been an almost vampiric white.

  Such was not the case now. Now that he was back with Trinity, Sam had thawed—and the couples' time together working in Australia had outwardly tanned them beyond recognition. If William found the look jarring on his brother, it certainly benefited Trinity; she positively glowed, from within and without.

  "Wow. So you're really taking this individual pitch personally, huh?" she asked him now.

  The three of them were holding an impromptu meeting over instant coffee in one of the Jameson boardrooms. William had briefed the two of them on his presentation to the publishing house; he had hoped to breeze past it as just another business update, but Trinity's sudden laser-focus was making it difficult for him to move onto other topics.

  "It's unlike you," Sam noted. As if Sam was in any position to point out other people not acting like themselves these days. William fixed him with a critical look, but his brother seemed unfazed. At least that much hadn't changed.

  "You're not usually so hands-on," Trinity continued. "What's so different about this one, William? You're the CEO. Why don't you just delegate?"

  Why don't you just delegate? "Because Poppy Hanniford didn't delegate," William said. True, she may have given one of her underlings a chance to flex their design ideas in the first round—a mistake that should have cost her the running—but she had shown up, and taken personal responsibility for the product her agency put out. Not only that, she had highlighted her own weakness quite winningly. Even William couldn't deny how endearing, how appealing, her bald-faced sincerity had come across. It was unlike anything he had ever encountered in the business, and he had spent most of his life learning the negotiation techniques and counter-attacks required to send his rivals packing.

  No, this prospective client required a personal touch. His personal touch. It was time for Poppy Hanniford to see firsthand just how formidable he was.

  "I prefer that a Jameson represent Jameson Agency in this case," William continued. "And with the two of you in Australia and Eddie on paternity leave, that leaves only me."

  "Seems like you're on the fast track to winning the contract with your one-man show," Trinity observed. "Or at least you were on-track—until you let Poppy Hanniford get under your skin."

  William opened his mouth to argue. He wasn't a man who normally allowed himself to get into conversations where he had to play defense. At the last minute, he caught the sly look in Trinity's eye, and clamped his mouth closed. Any protest he could form—and he could think of a hundred different ones he might throw her way—would only confirm…whatever it was that she was thinking.

  "You spin narratives as expertly as the authors I'm tasked with wrangling," William said.

  "Don't you mean the authors you and Poppy are tasked with wrangling?" Trinity smirked.

  Sam glanced between them. He crossed his arms. He was less quick picking up on the undercurrent of the conversation, but now looked as if he had noticed enough to come along for the ride.

  "There's no way Jameson is going to lose this client to Wildflower," William said confidently. "The right track you perceived us following before is the same one we're on now."

  "Jameson Agency has always been a family business," Trinity said. She sat back, tapping her pen, and dropped a glance in Sam's direction. "…but it's only recently that you guys really started to come together and show the world—and yourselves—that the best way to succeed is to put family first. You've finally made your interpersonal relationships the focus, and the business has only profited from it. I'm just afraid of seeing all your hard work fall by the wayside if you choose to make this your number one priority. You've already cancelled meetings with Eddie multiple times these past few weeks. He'd never admit it, but he was really looking forward to spending time with you. I just don't want to see you put your family second again."

  "You
're wrong," William said dismissively. "I appreciate your take as always, Trinity, but putting the business first is putting family first. It's a family business, as the name implies."

  "But that doesn't mean there has to be a patriarch!" Trinity said in exasperation. "You don't have to rule everything with an iron fist, William!"

  "Trinity." Sam's voice took a tone of warning, but William put his hand up.

  "Please, Samson. Let her finish. I meant it when I said I value her unfiltered input."

  "It's just…" Trinity glanced between the two of them, her determined expression folding into concern, "…all three of you brothers work so well together. As a team. I'm afraid all the emphasis on taking down Wildflower sounds more like a personal vendetta, William. That's all."

  "I will take that into consideration," he promised. "Now Sam, if you'd excuse us…there is something I'd like Trinity to look over for me."

  "I owe Eddie a phone call, anyway," Sam said as he rose. "I'll be sure to send him your love."

  William waved him off. He was already deep in contemplation concerning the next order of business. Trinity rose to come around to his side of the table and examine the documents he spread before him.

  "Is this your business plan for the romance convention?" she asked curiously. William nodded, taking a step back to grant her full access to his outline. "Wow. You've really thought of everything, haven't you?"

  "Exercising that iron fist," he agreed. "I know you've been highly successful in the past running many of our all-female production groups out of L.A. I just wanted your opinion on my plan before I push forward."

  "My opinion?" Trinity turned to him, and William guessed what was coming. Thankfully, he hadn't gotten this far by throwing up walls every time he was faced with outside criticism. "Your 'iron fist' is what's going to get you into trouble. Not just with running the business, and running the family—which you claim to be one and the same—but with this project. In my experience, female-dominated companies don't respond well to the 'man in charge' angle. Even the ones who make a fortune publishing BDSM," Trinity said as an afterthought to herself.