Vegas Virgin (Nevada Bad Boys 1)

“Right.” Mr. Hawthorne nodded. “We appreciate you joining us.”

The next ten minutes were agonizing. My boss pitched his best ideas, completely laid out with charts, graphs, and everything we would normally use to woo a client. Max just ignored it for the most part, looking at his cell phone and grunting when potential sales figures went up on the screen. I could see the frustration growing on Mr. Hawthorne’s face, even if he managed to avoid verbalizing it. The Energy Enhanced representatives seemed to look towards Max for approval each time a new idea was put on the table and when he didn’t react, they followed his lead. The meeting was going south. Ideas were flying from every direction and crashing before they hit their target.

“I’ve got an idea...” I finally broke my silence. My boss gave me a shake of his head, indicating I was speaking out of line.

“I’m sorry.” Max put down his phone. “Who are you?”

“I’m...” I tried to swallow the dryness in my throat. “I’m Abby Grant. I’m fairly new here but—”

As if he didn’t remember.

“You’ll have to excuse me, Ms. Grant.” Max’s voice dripped with the same sugary sweetness he had when I met him at the club. “I’m not trying to be insulting, but I’ve heard a lot of ideas and none of them have been worth the syllables.”

“You haven’t heard my idea.” My words came out quick, almost as if someone else said them—it almost startled me when I realized they came from my lips.

“The floor is yours.” Max gave me a smile and I could see that Mr. Hawthorne’s brow had erupted into sweat as he stared at me.

“Your marketing strategy.” I started to feel a bit of courage as I began to speak. “You’re trying to cater to high end clients. I’m not sure your brand is built for that. The name Energy Enhanced doesn’t exactly scream high class.”

“Abby...” Mr. Hawthorne walked across the room and put his hand on my shoulder. “Gentleman, I apologize. As she said, she’s new.” His hand tightened on my shoulder.

“I’d like to hear what she has to say.” Max leaned towards the table. “I don’t like hearing problems without a solution, so is there more to this epiphany?”

“Yes.” I shrugged off Mr. Hawthorne’s hand and opened my folder. “I know it isn’t a market share you’re really after, but Energy Enhanced is actually doing very well with the college crowd. They don’t care about all the vitamins you’re infusing with caffeine to make it more appealing than the competition. They’re just drinking it and realizing it gives them a lift. You’re growing in that market faster than any of your competition.”

“Do we follow that market?” Max looked towards the representatives from Energy Enhanced.

“No.” The man who had introduced Max shook his head. “It isn’t the market sector we’re after. Our strategy is—”

“How can we ignore it?” Max drummed his fingers on the table. “Fuck strategy. Business is all about opportunity and Ms.—I’m sorry, I forgot your name.”

“Abby.” Mr. Hawthorne stepped forward with a smile that was glowing. “Abby Grant.”

“Ms. Grant has clearly picked up on something you haven’t been paying attention to. I think they just proved that they deserve our account, wouldn’t you agree?” He stared down the group from Energy Enhanced.

“Yes sir.” Their reply was almost in unison.

W HEN THE MEETING WAS over and people started to leave, I slipped out of the conference room and retreated to the break room. It was empty. Everyone that had time to take a break was on pins and needles as they waited to find out how many advertising dollars the account was going to be worth. I knew it would be a lot. I was more confused than ever about Max—Mr. Mistake. He had to remember me, even if he just seemed to feign indifference. I fixed a cup of coffee, stirring in cream and sugar. A few seconds later, I heard someone walking into the break room. I turned around to see Max. Even a few minutes without him directly in front of me had made me forget how attractive he was. He looked like

he was sculpted from perfection, staring at me with those oh so mind boggling dark brown eyes.

“Hi, I’m Max—short for Maxwell, but please don’t call me that.” He extended his hand.

“Seriously?” I put down my coffee cup and folded my arms across my chest.

“Okay, fine.” He looked down at the floor. “Yeah, some people call me Mr. Mistake.”

“I don’t make mistakes.” I shook my head.

“Never?” He raised his head and smiled. “Not even one?”

“No.” I shook my head again. “Don’t feed me your crap. I don’t have the stomach for it. I’m not interested in being a one-night stand and I’m certainly not going to ever call you Mr. Mistake.”

“You’re very confident.” He grinned. “I didn’t expect that.”

“Don’t try to woo me. Don’t give me this sugary sweet nonsense. I already know it is nothing but a lie.” I stared at him.

“Fine.” He started walking towards me.