Chloe, and it’s perfect.”
* * *
BY THE MORNING MEETING in the agency’s conference room, Elizabeth was running on stress and caffeine. The stuff that fueled corporate America. Once she presented a hopefully coherent campaign to Micah Devlin and answered his questions, which if past meetings were any indication would be many, she planned on collapsing and sleeping for two days straight.
When she escorted Devlin, dressed in a pair of his own jeans and a pin-striped button-down shirt, into the conference room, he sat at the long mahogany table and pulled out his iPad.
She smoothed the skirt of her charcoal-gray Ellen Tracy suit and glanced down at her red stiletto pumps. Chloe called them her ruby slippers, because Elizabeth felt invincible when she wore then.
Ruby slippers, do your magic. “We believe Rory McAlister is the perfect person to represent Devlin Designs’ men’s jeans.”
Elizabeth pulled the cover off the poster on the easel, revealing Rory—naked from the waist up, his arms crossed over his wide chest, his biceps bulging, his skin slick with sweat—wearing the company’s jeans and his cowboy hat. Below the picture ran the words Devlin men’s jeans. Strong enough to stand up to a real man.
Her breath stuck in her throat as she waited for her client to respond. When she’d first met Micah Devlin she’d been attracted to him. In his mid to late thirties, he was approximately five or so years older than her, and she liked that. He had an MBA from Harvard Business School. Was the CEO of the family business—a Fortune 500 company, no less. He was tall, in shape without being overly muscular. His company contributed to numerous charities. He’d seemed like her dream man. At least on paper.
Then she’d gotten to know him. His controlling personality and micromanaging had effectively incinerated her attraction.
No worries about mixing business and pleasure there.
“I like him,” Devlin said. “He’s strong and fit, but doesn’t look like he spends all day in the gym.”
Relief burst through her, making her knees weak, but Elizabeth clamped down on the emotion. There would be time to celebrate later, once the contracts were signed, her agency’s with Devlin and his with Rory.
“That’s exactly what we were trying to portray. His strength comes from working with his hands and his back, like so many Americans.”
“Do you plan to weave that hardworking attitude into the campaign?”
“Definitely.”
Devlin jotted down notes on the iPad. “What’re the rest of your plans?”
“I thought we’d start with the Times Square billboard, since Devlin Designs has it booked for the next three months. We’d pair that with ads in the New York Times, the Chicago Tribune and USA Today.”
“I understand the newspapers’ appeal, but I’m not so certain about the billboard. Sure, it’ll be seen by millions of tourists, but other than that, how will it help us appeal to middle America?”
His question momentarily threw her off stride. Her grandmother’s voice rang in her head. Is that really the decision you want to make? Have you thought this through thoroughly, Elizabeth?
Shaking herself mentally, she tuned out her grandmother. Elizabeth refused to be intimidated, when she’d prepared for this meeting until three in the morning, and this was one of the questions she’d anticipated. “I think showcasing Rory on June’s billboard is the quickest way to create a buzz while we’re finalizing magazine ads and shooting the TV commercial. When people see Rory’s picture, they’ll want to know who he is. Women will hit your website en masse to find out more about him. We’ll add a new page to the site—meet Devlin Designs’ newest model. We’ll get him tweeting, to add to the buzz. That excitement should help me book spots for him on the morning show circuit.”
Devlin tapped his pen on the table. “Plus the billboard should give us a boost to our East Coast sales.”
Elizabeth nodded, the knot between her shoulder blades loosening. What was it about Devlin that cracked her self-confidence? “The average man is going to want to look like Rory. Women will think if their man wears your jeans he’ll look like Rory. The gay man is going to want to date him. No matter what, they’re going to check out Devlin jeans. I think we’ll get an excellent return on the investment. Even though we’re targeting a different market, everything fashionwise starts here in New York.”
“Since we can’t use the ad we’d planned on for the May billboard because of that model’s scandal, let’s showcase the jeans and introduce Rory instead.”
Elizabeth stared at Devlin, momentarily stunned. A billboard took a minimum of two weeks to put together, and today was April 16.
What did this guy think? That she twitched her nose like Samantha on Bewitched, and billboards magically appeared?
“If we go with this shot—” Elizabeth pointed to the easel and Rory’s gorgeous beefcake photo “—we might be able to pull it off.”
“I like it. An outdoor scene on a billboard will clutter up the message anyway. I don’t want anything distracting from the cowboy, the slogan and the company name.” Devlin clicked his pen as he thought. “Do what you have to, within reason, to get the job done. If you think the budget needs to be revised, let me know.”
Elizabeth nodded. So much for sleeping for two days after this meeting.
“What’s this cowboy’s voice like?” Devlin asked. “Can he do the commercial work or will we need to hire a voice-over actor?”
“Rory has a pleasant voice with a slight Western drawl, which will work perfectly for the campaign.”
“Pleasant? We need more than that for our spokesman.”
“Forgive me. That was a poor choice of words. His voice is hardly average.” She couldn’t tell this Fortune 500 CEO that Rory’s voice sent ripples of excitement through her and made her lace panties damp. Or could she? “The women at the shoot commented that his voice was as good as his looks.”
“I’ve got a lot riding on this. Before I sign this cowboy and the agency contract I want to know what he sounds like.”
Warning bells clanged in Elizabeth’s head. Considering Rory’s unpredictable behavior at the photo shoot, the thought of him meeting Devlin sent dread snaking down her spine. She counted to ten.
Never let a client see uncertainty. It’s the kiss of death.
She smiled at Devlin. “Do you want to meet him in person or would a demo CD work?”
Please say the latter.
Devlin had been about to answer her when his cell phone played “I Could’ve Danced All Night.” He grabbed it out of his briefcase. “Excuse me. I have to take this.”
Phone to his ear, he stepped outside the conference room.
She couldn’t believe that Micah Devlin, who chastised her when she took a call from another client with an “emergency,” had answered his phone. Obviously, he subscribed to the do-as-I-say, not-as-I-do philosophy.
“What’s up?” his surprisingly gentle voice floated in through the open door. “Can it wait? My day is full of meetings.”
While Elizabeth longed to scoot her chair to where she could actually see him as he talked on the phone, she resisted the urge. Innocently overhearing a conversation and openly eavesdropping were two different things, and she had no desire to be caught doing the latter.
“Don’t do that,” Devlin almost pleaded. “You know the doctor told you not to drive for three weeks. Please wait.” Frustration crept into his voice. “I’ll run by the pharmacy after this meeting. I’ll be there in a half an hour tops.” Again he paused. “I love you, too, Nana.”
Elizabeth