One More Night(5)
A new note landed in his inbox from Gino Rizzo, an executive at Comedy Nation, who put the p in prick when it came to negotiations. Clay had been brokering a deal for a producer client of a new late-night show, and Gino had railroaded every point. He read the note, his chest tightening and his fists clenching with every word. Damn bastard was threatening to walk if Clay didn’t take care of the final clause today.
He shoved a hand roughly through his hair, and slammed his laptop shut. If he left it open, he’d send a nasty email. Instead, he rose and paced up and down the short aisle of the jet. He ran through options as he wore a tread on the plane’s carpeting. The silent ride and the smooth hum of the engines cleared his head, becoming the soundtrack he needed to figure out what to do next. His client, a one-time sports announcer, needed this deal. Desperately. He’d struggled mightily to get this far in his career, and Clay couldn’t leave him hanging. The guy had a wife and four kids, one of whom had needed multiple surgeries to correct a birth defect. The gig with Comedy Nation was the first nibble his client had had in a year, and he needed that deal.
Fuck.
That meant one thing.
The key to negotiating power was being the one willing to leave everything on the table. In this case, Clay wasn’t the one willing to walk away. He hated not being in that position. But if his client wouldn’t walk away, he couldn’t, so he’d have to walk—or fly, rather—to the other party.
Parking himself back in the seat, he opened his laptop, and banged out a reply.
Fifteen minutes later, Julia stirred. He turned off his computer once more, stood up to root around for his bag under the seat and locate one of her wrapped gifts, then returned to the seat next to her as her eyes fluttered open. “Hey handsome,” she murmured.
“Hey gorgeous.”
“What have you been up to?”
“Working.”
“Always working,” she said, shaking her head
“I could say the same for you,” he said, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead, the gift box tucked by the side of his leg. He swallowed, wishing he didn’t have to say the next thing. “Hey, I hate to do this, but Rizzo at Comedy Nation is playing hardball, and I have to get things ironed out.”
“He’s such an ass,” she said, her voice coated in irritation. “I wish you could punch that guy.”
He laughed, loving her put-up-your-dukes nature. “Trust me, I would like to land one on him.”
“So you need to go to L.A. instead of Vegas?”
He nodded, the corner of his lips curving into a frown. “For a couple of hours. I don’t think I’m going to be able to join you at the Farrell meeting. But if you absolutely want me there, I’ll find another time to see Rizzo.”
“No. I know Grant needs this deal,” she said insistently, referring to Clay’s client. The fact that she knew the names of his clients and that she cared about his business had always touched him. What he did for a living mattered deeply to him; he liked that the details mattered to her too. “It’s absolutely fine. I am a big girl and can handle my meeting.”
“I know you can. I just wanted to make sure.”
“And then after my meeting, I plan to have a date with a lounge chair and a Pina Colada poolside at the Allegro until you return. I can just kick back and work on my non-tan,” she said, gesturing to her creamy, fair skin that she always covered in sunscreen. Then she placed her hands together in a prayer, as if making an oath. “But in the meantime, I promise not to agree to anything or to sign a thing without my lawyer looking at it,” she said, giving him a sexy little wink.
An appreciative moan escaped his throat. “Mmm. I have taught you well the perks of being with a contract man.”
“Want to play lawyer and naughty client?” she said suggestively, running her hand along his thigh. “Oh, Mr. Lawyer, I’m thinking of signing on the dotted line when you’re not around.”
“I’ll put you over my lap and spank you.”
“That’ll only make me want to go wild with blue ink,” she said, playing the part well. She quickly changed her tune as she placed a palm on his chest and raised an eyebrow. “You sure you’re not sneaking off to Los Angeles to get me a ring?”
He laughed once more. She’d been trying to get it out of him since the night he told her he’d wanted to take her to Vegas for the weekend. Even with her business meeting, she was hunting for clues of a proposal. Only his brother knew he planned to ask her to marry him this weekend. “I’m not going to Los Angeles to get a ring, but even if I were I would never tell you,” he said.