Cole drummed his fingers on the table, fuming. He was due in Pritchard’s office, but he was too pissed to go anywhere just yet. Better to be a few minutes late and get his temper under control after the way Olivia had just nuked him. He wasn’t buying that “dare” bullshit for a second. Maybe it had started out that way, but either she was a hell of an actress, or she was in denial. He was betting on denial. Maybe Olivia thought she could fool herself, but she wasn’t fooling him. The way she’d reacted to his touch? That wasn’t just convenience. That was authentic. She had enjoyed every moment in that hotel room—and every stolen moment since—just as he had. Maybe even more.
No, their problem wasn’t sex; it was his partnership with Pritchard. She was never going to forgive him for that, despite the fact that it was entirely out of his control. And maybe he had been a bit tough on her team today, but he stood by the message. Nothing says lovin’ like Mama’s Muffins? He couldn’t have come up with a more cliché tag line if he tried. No way in hell were they pitching that garbage as long as his name was on the door.
Shit.
Cole rubbed his hands across his face and groaned. He’d completely screwed up again, leading with his ego instead of his brain. Instead of showing Olivia she was a valuable asset to PBA, he’d managed to completely alienate her in front of her team, like the self-involved asshat she accused him of being. So much for earning her trust.
Truth was, hearing her say they should forget that first night together had really burned, and he’d let that frustration affect his behavior. Cole, who’d built a reputation for being cool and collected, had lost his temper and let his personal feelings bleed over to his professional life. Olivia was right. Instead of tearing the group down? he should have helped her build them up. And today’s screw-up had probably put him another two steps back with her and the team.
He headed to Pritchard’s office. Halfway there, his cell vibrated, demanding his attention. He reached into his pocket to retrieve the phone and glanced at the caller ID. He didn’t particularly feel like chatting with Brody, but the guy usually only called when he had information, and his connections were one of the assets Cole had brought to PBA. Now wasn’t the time to start ignoring them, no matter how black his mood. He swiped to accept the call.
“Cole Bennett.”
“Hey, man,” Brody practically shouted through the phone. Probably to ensure he’d be heard over the background noise. Cole would’ve bet his paycheck Brody was at happy hour. “Long time no talk.”
“Yeah, I’ve been a little busy with the move,” Cole confirmed, not bothering to elaborate.
“No worries,” Brody returned. “I won’t keep you long, but I heard something interesting today and I thought you’d want to hear it sooner rather than later.”
“I’m listening.”
“McKenzie lost one of their top clients today, Vixen Enterprises.”
“The lingerie company?” Cole asked.
“Yeah, man. Can you believe it? Talk about a golden goose.”
“How reliable is this information?”
“Let’s just say I’m sitting across the table from a very drunk, very unemployed young woman from McKenzie who used to work on the account. I hear there will be a formal announcement tomorrow, but Vixen is going to be in the market for a new agency.”
Cole rolled his eyes. Leave it to Brody to try and take advantage of the situation in more ways than one. As usual, the guy oozed class. Tamping down his disgust, he thanked Brody for the tip and disconnected.
He did a quick search on Vixen Enterprises as he walked to Pritchard’s office. The results confirmed what he suspected. Vixen was a giant, holding a majority share of the U.S.’s more than thirteen-billion dollars in annual lingerie sales. Landing the account would be huge not only for the agency that landed the account, but also for the individual who made the pitch. It would be a career-maker for some lucky bastard. As he processed this information, an idea began to take shape. He knocked on Pritchard’s door, determined to see it through.
He found his partner hunched behind his desk, poring over the latest edition of Ad Week.
“You wanted to see me?”
“Yeah,” Pritchard confirmed, checking his watch. “But I need to make this quick. The wife made dinner plans at some posh new restaurant in Midtown and she’ll have my balls if I’m late.”
Cole shook his head and laughed. “Fair enough.”
Pritchard’s face shifted, a frown tugging at his thin mouth. “What the hell happened in the Mama’s Muffins meeting today?”