When We Met (Fool's Gold #13)(8)

“Justice Garrett, please.”

“Speaking.”

“Hi, Justice, I’m Taryn Crawford. I know your wife. I’m a partner at Score, here in town.”

“Right. Patience has mentioned you. The PR firm with the football players.”

“That’s us.” This was stupid. She felt like a mom trying to set up a playdate for her socially awkward child. Except despite her grumbling about the move, she really did want the guys to be happy. They might annoy her from time to time, but they were all the family she was ever likely to have.

“You have ex-military guys employed there,” she began. “They like to work out and stuff?”

There was a pause. Taryn could present a multimillion-dollar PR presentation to the most uptight skeptic with no problem. Why was this so hard?

“Was that a question?” Justice asked.

“No. Okay, so you know about Jack, Kenny and Sam, right? Former football players. They’re still competitive and...” She told herself to get to the point. “The guys have a new outdoor basketball court. They play a few mornings a week. I thought you and your guys might like to join them.”

There was another pause, then Justice chuckled. “My guys and I would like that very much. I hope yours aren’t sore losers.”

Taryn grinned. “Nice try. Your team is so going down.”

“We’ll see about that. What time do they start?”

“Six. Day after tomorrow.”

“We’ll be there.”

She hung up, feeling more than a little proud of herself. She logged in to the company’s remote data storage and downloaded the work she’d done the previous night, then updated several accounts.

At nine, she met with her graphics and design people. Her team of six was the heart of the organization. All presentations came out of that office, including graphic design, layout and videos for sample commercials and promotional spots.

There was also Sam’s staff of two accountants who ran all the numbers; Taryn’s assistant who doubled as the office manager; Larissa, Jack’s personal assistant and the boys’ private masseuse; along with Kenny and Sam’s assistant.

When Kenny, Jack and Sam had first come to her about moving to Fool’s Gold, she’d warned them that they would lose valuable staff. One of the few times in her life when she’d been wrong when it came to business, she thought. Everyone had been excited about relocating. Taryn had been the lone holdout.

Who could have guessed that carefully selecting family-oriented, well-adjusted employees would come back to bite her in the butt? she thought with a grin.

Her assistant stepped into her office. “They’re ready for you.”

Taryn followed her into the smaller conference room. Sam, Jack and Kenny were there, freshly showered after their morning game—because part of the remodeling had included putting in a locker room. Make that two, because while Taryn never planned to bathe at work, she’d insisted on equal facilities for the women. So they, too, had large showers, lockers and a steam room. The difference was she never insisted on holding meetings in the steam room, while the boys had on more than one occasion.

Now she walked to the far end of the table and opened the laptop there. Then her gaze settled on Jack, who had chosen not to dress after his shower. He sat at the conference table in a white robe and flip-flops.

“Let me guess,” she said. “Larissa is here.”

“She’s warming up the massage table as we speak.”

“Tell me you’re wearing underwear,” she said.

Jack winked.

“My team’s been working on several campaigns,” she said as she typed on the laptop. Through the company’s internal network, she could access her computer files remotely and pull up any necessary information.

“Here’s what we came up with for the Klassique Rum campaign. We’ll have the sample commercial ready by the end of the week, but in the meantime, here are our thoughts for print ads and the Facebook campaigns.”

She touched her computer keyboard, and a slide appeared on the large screen at the opposite end of the room. “We pulled colors from their new labels. Obviously rum means parties and fun.”

“Beach parties,” Kenny corrected, then grinned at Jack. “That was a hell of a weekend.”

The two of them had visited Klassique’s headquarters in the Caribbean. While Taryn had been invited, she’d passed. Watching Kenny and Jack in action with dozens of nubile, willing women wasn’t her idea of a good time.

The speakerphone in the center of the table buzzed.

“Jack, Larissa’s ready,” Taryn’s assistant said.

Jack was already up and moving. “See you later,” he called.

“I really hope he keeps his robe on until he gets into the massage room,” Taryn murmured.

“Me, too,” Sam told her. “Because he’s not wearing any underwear.”

Fortunately their employees were good-natured about the idiosyncrasies of working for former jocks, but every now and then Taryn had to field a complaint about too much male nudity.

Usually from the spouse of one of the female employees.

Taryn turned her attention back to the campaign. She went through it slide by slide. Kenny had several insights from the client’s perspective, while Sam tallied costs. Two hours later, when they had nearly finished, Jack walked back into the room.