One Night Standards(8)

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 you have on Diva Nation and Marion & Co. in an e-mail? Or give me any copies of paperwork you have.” She smiled, an echo of Roger’s humoring grin. “I’ll start working on the actual presentation.”

“I’ll work with you, Carol,” he said, keeping his voice smooth. Charm, as Roger had said. “A lot of my knowledge isn’t on paper. I’d rather we just work together.”

She set her face in a frown. She was a slender woman, with red hair cut in a straight bob, and eyebrows so sculpted they looked chiseled onto her face. She’d had a problem with Mark since the day he’d joined the team. “Mark, can I talk to you for a minute?” she said in a low voice.

He nodded, allowing himself to be pulled aside, knowing that Simone was studying them intently. “Yes?”

She took a deep breath. “Look, it’s obvious that Roger doesn’t really want you on this project. So why don’t you let me do the bulk of the work?” Her eyes were like laser beams in their intensity. “No offense, but I know that this stuff—reports, this kind of leg work—isn’t really your strong suit.”

He winced. Remind me again how that’s not supposed to offend me. “I’m curious—what makes you say that?”

“Well, you’ve never done something like this before,” she said, as if it were patently obvious.

“But I’ve worked on lots of projects,” he countered. “Hell, lots of people on the team have asked me for advice. And Simone knows nobody knows competitive info like I do.”

She frowned, as if amazed he was still putting up a fight. “Well, you’re a sales guy. You don’t have the background…”

“I got my MBA two years ago,” he said shortly. “In marketing.”

She sighed. “You don’t know how we work.”

It was like battering up against a concrete slab. He sighed. He wasn’t going to win if he fought her way—supposed rational arguments, business talk. He only had one choice left.

He leaned forward, smiling…his most winning smile. He made sure he focused his gaze on her as if she were the only woman on earth. It was something they’d always talked about on the catwalk, back when he’d modeled.

She swallowed hard, obviously taken off guard.

“I won’t get in your way, Carol,” he said, his voice pitched low, almost intimate. “I know that this is a big deal, and you’ve probably done tons of marketing launches and competitive proposals. I’m only asking for a chance.”

She blinked at him. He’d never turned the full force of his charm on her before—he hadn’t wanted to waste the energy, and frankly, he always felt a little dirty when he used it this deliberately. Still, he knew the minute she started to waver.

He deliberately pulled his drawl out to a ribbon. “Please,” he murmured. “It would mean a lot to me.”

She flushed slightly, and looked away, taking a deep breath before looking back at him. “I…I’ll need to do most of the work, though,” she said, and then cleared her throat so her voice didn’t sound so ragged. “And we’ll need to make sure that I’m the one that does most of the talking.”

“Of course,” he said easily. He didn’t agree, but he’d tackle that later—he had a yes and he wasn’t going to mess with it, just as he’d always learned in sales. “We’ll set up something tomorrow to touch base, would that be all right? Then get all the details ironed out.”

“All right,” she said, although she finally sounded a lot less sure of herself. Then she walked away.

Mark gathered his papers together, and Simone walked up beside him. “You are amazing.”

He paused, picking up his pen. “How’s that?”

“I didn’t think anybody could chill out Warrior Princess Carol,” she responded, with a light chuckle in her voice. “But if anybody could, it would be you, huh?”

He chose to ignore that. Simone was his boss, and sort of a friend, but her sense of business ethics could get somewhat hazy. “Thanks for standing up for me with Roger,” he said instead, focusing on her kindness.

“It’s time. I know you’re smart, Mark,” she said. “You just need a chance, that’s all. So—what else do you know about Diva Nation?”

“Not as much as I’d like,” he admitted. “They’re not very big, but their products are amazing—really outside the box.” He smiled slightly, remembering. “I know that they’ve got a perfumed body lotion that is practically hallucinogenic.”

“Really,” she said, her voice ripe with speculation. “I probably don’t want to know how you know that.”

He realized he was letting something slip, and quickly clammed up. “I’ll buy their entire product line before I meet with Carol. And I’ll know a ton more by tomorrow.”

“You know,” Simone said carefully, “I couldn’t help but notice you had a bit of a connection with that Diva Nation woman—Sophie, her name was. Right?”

“She’s a nice woman,” Mark said carefully. “And just because we’re competitors doesn’t mean I need to hate her on sight, does it?”

“I’m merely saying,” Simone continued. “She seemed to like you, too. Maybe you could see what you could find out. I’m sure she’d be happy to talk to you on some kind of neutral ground.”

Mark felt it again—that dirty, unethical, icky feeling. “Trust me, she’s not the type.”