24
Kennedy
I met Cory, my new assistant, at the same time as my new manager, Lance Fisher.
Cory was about my age, but he looked like he belonged on a runway instead of in an office.
Perfectly put together, with close-cropped hair, tailored clothes, and a spark of mischief in his dark-brown eyes. I liked him instantly.
Lance was a different story. He looked like a surfer dude who’d been forced into the corporate world.
His blond hair was going gray at the sides, but he still wore it longer on top and kept fighting an endless battle of keeping the bangs out of his eyes.
His skin was deeply tanned, and his smile revealed teeth so bright there was no way they were natural.
It became clear pretty quickly that Lance was extremely unorganized, and there were no clear instructions on what our assignment actually was.
All I really knew was that we’d be running an ad campaign featuring players from the Los Angeles football team, aimed at promoting sporting opportunities and healthy living for inner-city kids.
On my second day in LA, Cory and I got called into a meeting we were completely unprepared for.
All Lance had told us was that he needed us in the conference room.
I walked in expecting a staff briefing and instead found half the LA Surge team seated around the table.
It wasn’t until I spotted the team’s famous quarterback, Trevor Price, at the head of the table that I realized this was our first client meeting.
“Hot damn,” Cory hissed behind me.
“Ah, excellent.” Lance’s voice rang out from the side of the room. He gestured to the balding man next to him. “This is Dale Dawson, the assistant manager for the LA Surge.”
I swallowed down my irritation and stepped forward, offering my hand. Dale met me halfway and shook it firmly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Miller,” he said politely.
“Kennedy,” I corrected him.
“Kennedy,” he repeated with a small smile.
“We wanted to take the opportunity to introduce you to the team members who’ll be participating in the project you’ll be leading,” Lance explained, looking directly at me. I bit my tongue instead of asking why no one had thought to inform me about this beforehand.
“Kennedy Miller,” Trevor said with his signature Southern drawl, leaning back in his chair like he owned the room.
His gaze made a slow, deliberate trip up my legs, over my fitted dress, before finally landing on my face.
The smirk that followed told me everything I’d heard about him was true.
He was a flirt, and a handful. “Sounds familiar.”
And it should since he’d been part of the Men’s Advantage campaign, but most things had gone through his agent.
Before I could respond, a tall, broad man with reddish-blond hair and a neatly trimmed beard rose to his feet.
He stepped forward with an easy smile and extended his hand.
“Hi, Kennedy. I’m Andy. Nash told me you’d be here.
” Oh. So this was Nash’s friend, Andy Colt.
He reminded me a little of Mitchell, though his skin was fairer and his hair red.
Taller, too—closer to Bryce’s size than Nash’s.
“It’s nice to finally meet you,” I said sincerely, shaking his hand.
“Ah, damn,” Trevor cut in with a grin, rocking back on his chair again. “You’re Reed’s latest catch.”
The comment annoyed me, even though I presumed Trevor was an expert at stirring up trouble. He hadn’t been easy to work with during the previous project. I ignored him and focused on Dale, who was continuing the introductions.
“This is Clark Elliott,” he said, gesturing to a heavyset man with a flat nose and cold blue eyes seated closest to me.
Great. He already looked like he could bite my head off if I so much as sneezed in the wrong direction.
“Next to Elliott is Trevor Price. I believe you worked with him on the Men’s Advantage project.”
We didn’t need the introduction, but Trevor grinned, cocky and completely aware of the attention on him.
“This is Antoine Turner and Booker Robinson,” Dale went on, nodding toward the man beside Trevor and the one across from him.
Antoine’s cornrows and goatee jogged my memory. I was pretty sure he was the running back who always seemed to score.
Booker, meanwhile, was impossible to miss. He was massive, yet his kind, warm eyes and easy smile made me relax a little.
“And finally,” Dale said, gesturing to the last man at the table, “you met Andrew Colt.”
Andy gave me a polite nod, and I got the distinct feeling he’d be one of the easier ones to work with. Booker too. Clark and Trevor? Probably not so much.
Dale turned the attention back to me. “Kennedy Miller is in charge from now on. Cory,” he added with a gesture to my assistant, “will be assisting Kennedy.”
Lance stepped up next to Dale. “We’ll have a whole team working on different aspects of this, but Kennedy and Cory will be your main contacts should you have any questions going forward.”
“Got it,” Trevor drawled, flashing me a wide grin. “Does that mean we’ll get her personal number?”
Dale sighed while Cory chuckled under his breath.
“I’ll give you mine if you give me yours,” Trevor added with a wink.
As soon as the meeting ended, Cory and I slipped out.
I pulled my phone from my bag, checking the notifications that had buzzed in during the chaos.
Sure enough, another cat video from Josh, and a text from Sammy.
I opened the video from Josh. A tiny black kitten attempted—and failed—to jump onto a couch.
A laugh slipped out as I typed a response.
Kennedy
Ah, that’s cute. :)
Josh
Made me think of the first time we met.
I groaned out loud, and Cory shot me a curious look.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
Three second later, the dots appeared again.
Josh
How’s LA treating you?
Kennedy
It’s good so far. Busy, but good.
I stepped into my office and opened Sammy’s message.
Sammy
How’s LA, boss lady?
Kennedy
Just got out of a meeting with the players.
Sammy
The football guys? Tell me everything.
Kennedy
Their QB is a giant pain in the ass. Doesn’t stop flirting.
Sammy
Oooooh, the Trevor Price? Kennedy Miller, you’ve officially made it. :)
Kennedy
If that’s making it, I’m not interested. He’s cocky as hell.
Sammy
Sounds like trouble . . . but the hot kind of trouble?
Kennedy
Maybe. Doesn’t matter. I’ve already got my hands full with your favorite hockey player.
Sammy
Awww. Just don’t let Mr. QB get under your skin. He’s probably used to every woman saying yes.
I had a feeling that was going to be exactly the problem.