Tangled Up Read online

  “We don’t have to. I’ll take it on.”

  He sipped the beer for a moment, thinking about the new clients. He’d argued with Elise about taking them on, money or no, because if there was one thing Jamison didn’t want Wolfe and Baron turning into, it was a babysitting service for douche bags. She’d fought him on it for a few reasons, money one of them. Never enough money, she’d told him, not with a baby on the way and the economy the way it was. The other reason was even simpler—the trio of reality TV stars might be famous only for their stupidity, recklessness and lack of couth, but they were super fucking famous. The biggest-name clients Wolfe and Baron had scored to date.

  “You don’t have the experience,” he told Caite flatly. “I’m going to have to head this one.”

  She sighed and rolled her eyes, not even trying to hide it. Jamison blinked, surprised by both her reaction…and his lack of it. He’d fired people for less than that. A whole bunch of them as a matter of fact, which was why he and Elise and Bobby were the only ones working in this place, at least until she’d insisted on hiring Caite. But with a full belly and the beer, his favorite, mellowing him a little, all he did was grunt.

  “You’re going to give yourself an ulcer,” Caite said.

  Jamison took another long pull of beer. “You have a better idea?”

  “I told you my better idea.”

  “You’ve been here, what, six months?”

  “Nearly eight,” Caite said with another shake of her head that left him feeling uncomfortably ashamed.

  “And you think you have what it takes?”

  “I’ve been handling clients on my own for the past four months,” Caite said quietly. “Brought some in on my own, too.”

  Which he ought to have known. Dammit. He’d been so caught up in his own client list that he’d been letting Elise deal with the “new hire,” who, as it turned out, wasn’t all that new any longer. “I thought we took you on as an assistant. Filing. Copying.”

  “Fetching coffee?” Caite gave him another one of those stunning grins. “Relax. I’ve been doing all that, too. But technically, you took me on as a junior account manager. Not an assistant.”

  “Elise assigned you other work, huh?” Jamison finished his beer and set the empty bottle on the table. Caite nodded. “She’s a little nicer than I am.”

  “More than a little,” came the answer.

  Again, from anyone else, the smart-ass reaction would’ve probably sent him into a fury, but something about this girl…This woman, he corrected himself. Because Caite was young but not girlish. Not at all. Something about this woman eased him away from anger. Like taking in a breath of cool air when you’d spent too long in a sauna.

  “She must think highly of you,” Jamison said.

  “I think she’s been pleased with my work. You’d be pleased, too, if you’d paid attention to it.” Caite sipped her beer and gave him a long look over the top of it. “You should pay better attention, Jamison.”

  Something slithered through him then, at that tone. Those words. The calmly assessing look in her blue, blue eyes. Her confidence…and that smile.

  “Tell you what,” he said, leaning closer. “If you can prove you can handle it, I’ll let you work on this project.”

  “Oh, I can handle it,” Caite said. “The question is, can you?”

  2

  “YOU’RE A LITTLE cocky, aren’t you?” Jamison said with a gleam in his dark eyes that had Caite sitting up a little straighter to meet his gaze head-on.

  “Pot, have you met kettle?”

  To her relief, because it could’ve gone either way, he laughed. Then tipped his empty bottle at her before tossing it into the recycling bin next to the conference room door. “You’re in for a helluva lot of work. It’s not just setting up a media plan for them, you know. They’re all already on all the sites—”

  “I know,” Caite cut in smoothly, thinking of the after-hours work she’d already put in pulling together a media management plan for the three new clients. “It’s not just monitoring their activity but doing damage control, as well as coordinating coverage when they’re booked for gigs and managing that, too. Getting them sponsorships. Stuff like that. I’m not a total newbie. Before I came to work here, I had three years in social media experience.”

  Jamison snorted laughter. “You probably don’t remember a time when social media didn’t exist.”

  “I’m almost thirty years old, Jamison. I can assure you, I remember a life before Connex.”

  He looked thoughtful. “It’s not going to be easy. These kids are hard to handle.”

  “Which is why we got them to pay us the big bucks. Nobody else wants them, not even for the notoriety.”

  For a moment, she wished she hadn’t said that, even though it was the truth. Wolfe and Baron were not notorious, and there was a reason for that. Jamison had started this business with an eye for clients who traveled in influential circles but didn’t make a scene. Businessmen, politicians, the occasional socialite. Once Elise had come on board, Wolfe and Baron had begun to expand into the celebrity arena but still handled mostly theater actors, artists, classical musicians, not rock stars. Handling these three reality TV stars was totally new ground for them, but Elise had been adamant about taking them on.

  Nellie Bower, Paxton France and Tommy Sanders were going to put Wolfe and Baron on the map.

  And Caite intended to be part of that. She eyed Jamison now. “I can handle them.”

  Jamison narrowed his eyes. “What makes you think so?”

  “Because I’m good at what I do. I told you. Because I think outside the box. Because I’m young and hip.” She paused with a smile. “Because I’ve actually watched Treasure House, unlike you.”

  “Piece-of-shit show.”

  “Oh, it’s a shit show, all right, which is why it gets the ratings, and why those three are so popular right now.” Caite shrugged. “Look, it’s no Doctor Who, but there’ve been some decent episodes.”

  “You watch Doctor Who?”

  Should she be offended at his surprise? “Um, duh. Yes.”

  “I used to love that show as a kid.”

  “Well, here’s some news for you, Gramps—it’s been updated since then.”

  He looked startled at first, then gave her a grudging laugh that sent a thrill all through her. A laugh from her curmudgeonly boss was as rare as icicles in a Texas July. “Some people have lives, Ms. Fox. Like we do things other than watch television.”

  Somehow she doubted that he had much of a life. It was all work with him. Hours in the office, hours outside the office. She didn’t know much about his personal life, other than that he had no wife, no kids and seemingly no family. Maybe he’d sprung full-grown from a trumpet, like in that old Greek myth she could never remember—and that would make sense, because he sure had the body of a Greek god.

  Hold it in, girl, she counseled herself. He’s your boss and a little too bossy for you even if he didn’t sign your paycheck.

  “I have a life,” she said instead, like a challenge.

  He took it. She’d known he would. It was in the glint of his eyes and lift of his chin and something in the way his breath shifted. She’d watched him go head-to-head with too many people not to know what sorts of things got him going, but had she deliberately chosen this tone of voice, those words? Caite thought that maybe she had.

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah,” she said in a lower voice, meeting his eyes without looking away. “A rich, full life that includes time for television, along with lots of other…things.”

  Jamison pinned her with his gaze, his teeth bared a little in a predatory smile. “And you think I don’t have a rich, full life? Why? Because I don’t rot my brain with shitty reality television shows?”

  “No,” she said on a low breath. “Because you don’t make time for those other things.”

  For a moment, she thought he’d reach across the table and take her by the chin. Or, oh, God, fist his fin