LITMIR.BIZ

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“I can probably manage to share a meal with you without pushing the dishes aside and just taking you on the table.”

      The image that conjured up sent shivers of heat along her body. “Don’t even joke,” she said, hating the breathless edge her voice took on.

      “I wasn’t really joking,” he said.

      He was dangerous.

      “Stay away from me, Mark,” she said. “I really appreciated yesterday…on a couple of levels. And I would’ve loved to become friends with you. But you’ve got to see how this won’t work.”

      He took that in silence for a moment, then the two of them headed to their respective rooms. She noticed her hand shaking slightly as she wrested with the card key.

      She’d been so close to sleeping with him, she thought, with regret so keen it was painful. Now, she knew that every single ounce of common sense told her that he was off-limits, for good.

      He pulled out his wallet, producing a business card that he quickly scrawled something on. “Here,” he said.

      She stared at it. “What’s this for?”

      “It’s my cell-phone number,” he said. “Just in case you change your mind about dinner.” He paused. “Or anything else.”

      She watched as he effortlessly opened his room door and shut it behind him. She finally went into her own room…the card burning a hole in her pocket.

      You’re not going to call him, she told herself.

      Still, she couldn’t bring herself to throw the card away.

      “ALL WE HAVE TO DO IS TAKE OUT one puny competitor, and the house brand for Marion & Co is ours,” Simone said, back at the office in New York. “Now—brainstorm. What do we know about Diva Nation, and how can we knock them the hell out?”

      Mark looked at his boss, and then at the VP of marketing, Roger, who was sitting in on the meeting. They were both standing at the head of the large conference-room table, looking puzzled. Well, puzzled wasn’t the best way to describe it. Simone looked determined, as always, but also somewhat frazzled. Roger looked gob-smacked. The rest of the Trimera team, seated around the broad expanse of table, was somewhere between the two. Except for the resident pit-bull saleswoman, Carol, who looked as if her solution would involve some kind of violent force.

      “I cannot believe this. I cannot…frickin’…believe this,” Roger finally said, anger filtering through his obvious surprise.

      Simone sighed. “Roger, we’ve been over this.”

      “I don’t think you realize what a slap in the face this is,” he countered, obviously eager to discuss in front of the team what he’d already hashed out with Simone in private. “Marion & Co. has always carried Trimera. We’ve always had a good relationship with them. Now, they’re creating an exclusive house brand, and they’re going to pit us against some nobody brand from California?” He looked at Mark. “I thought sales were doing well in that channel! Could somebody please tell me how the hell this happened?”

      Carol cleared her throat before Mark could respond. “Account management has reported some problems with the Marion & Co. account,” she said, her voice deceptively calm. Her eyes looked fiery and triumphant, though.

      “That true, Mark?” Roger snapped.

      Mark forced himself not to glare at Carol. “Actually, it’s not,” he responded, his voice cool. “At least, we may have lost sales volume, but not market share. We’re doing fine.” He paused. If you’d read my last three reports, you’d know that.

      Roger brushed off the comment, as Mark knew he would. “So, if we’re doing fine, who the hell is Deviant Nation, anyway? And why are they even in this?”

      “Diva Nation,” Mark corrected. “They’re a small independent brand out of Los Angeles. They’re getting some decent distribution, though, and their products are getting a good deal of buzz. They’re not much now, but if their numbers keep up…”

      He drifted off when they all looked at him.

      “Is there any pulse you don’t keep your finger on?” Simone asked with admiration.

      He didn’t want to think about how many fingers he’d had on the pulse of Diva Nation…or how much closer he would’ve gotten, if she’d let him.

      “I keep an eye out,” Mark said elusively.

      “Well. This calls for desperate measures,” Roger said in that finicky, snarky tone of his. “Carol—you’re my point person. We’ve got to make sure that this thing runs smoothly.”

      Mark felt his blood pressure raise slightly. He was tired of being passed over. And, frankly, this one was too damned important. He really liked Sophie, but business was business—and since business was the one thing that stood between him and Sophie, he figured she’d probably understand more than anyone.

      “Roger,” Mark interrupted, before the man could continue barking out his instructions, “Simone said that she was going to give me the next product launch. You agreed to let me be point on the next proposal. I think that this counts.”

      The rest of the team was now openly gaping at him. He had to admit, he was a bit surprised, himself.

      Nothing ventured, he reminded himself nervously.

      “A little crappy product launch is one thing,” Roger said dismissively, although he seemed surprised, as well, that Mark had spoken up. “But after all, you didn’t report the sales information to me, and that would’ve been important.”

      Mark gritted his teeth.

      “Besides, we’re going to need more than charm on this,” Roger added. “I need somebody who knows product and figures.”

      Mark tried not to let the obvious insult get his temper too high. “I know the product, and I know the background. Most of all, I know Marion & Co.”

      Roger smiled indulgently. “Not well enough, obviously, to—”

      “If you’d read the last report I sent, you’d know exactly why we’re stuck in this mess.”

      Now the rest of the team was more than gaping—they looked horrified. Being assertive, or aggressive, was one thing. Committing career suicide in public by challenging one’s extremely temperamental vice president…well, now, that was something else.

      Smooth move, McMann.

      “I see,” Roger said, in a flat tone of voice that said he was purely pissed off. He glared at Simone, as if it were her fault things had gotten out of hand.

      Simone hastily shuffled some papers on the desk, keeping her voice brisk. “You know, I think that a compromise might work. If Carol took the lead, and Mark worked with her, he could bring his competitive knowledge and his familiarity with the account to the table, while she could hone the message and get the product side in line. What do you say?”

      Mark sent a silent prayer of thanks that Simone was firmly on his side. She was far more diplomatic, for one thing—and she’d been playing internal politics for years.

      “We’ll talk later,” Roger said sharply, “but since you seem so intent…fine. McMann, you’re working with Carol. I’ll expect to see preliminary notes by next week. Pull the meeting together. And don’t screw this up,” he said, with obvious menace in his voice. “I want this one locked down.”

      With that, he stalked off. The team let out a sigh of relief as Simone instructed them to go back to their desks. That is, everyone except Carol, who was looking both exceptionally arrogant and irritated.

      Gonna have a problem with you, Mark noted.

      “Mark,” she said, “I’ll have my assistant pull together the meeting, and I’ll get the notes done, as well. Why don’t you send me any information

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