If she’d met either Gage, who wore khakis and a nice shirt, or Jase, who wore jeans, boots, and a polo, on the street, she would assume they were professionals, but not moguls. Yet, here they were, operating a multi-arm business with interests in almost everything in the gambling world.
And here she was, right in the middle with them. And, if they liked her proposal, taking Connor’s publications to an international level.
“Readership of Vegas Nightly is up about four percent since midyear,” Connor was saying. “Ad dollars are still a little low, but they’ve rebounded despite the hack, and despite the price difference between Reeves Pub and the competition.”
“Are you going to drop to those pricing levels?”
“No.” Miranda said, and all eyes turned to her. “The strategy of Clayton Holdings is to go low, and once the competition is gone, raise its spot rates by at least ten percent. With Reeves readership rising and advertisers coming back on their own, we can hold our position.”
“I agree,” Connor said. Miranda set her papers on the conference table. “Miranda’s got a new initiative she wants to pass by us.”
“Thanks.” She couldn’t look at Connor. If she looked at him, she would lose her train of thought, and she needed that train to stay on the tracks. “Eco-tourism is becoming quite the hot niche in the travel space. Reeves Pub has a solid handle on the general Las Vegas tourism industry with Vegas Nightly and the insider guides we put out quarterly. Those give us a national profile.” She passed presentations to each of the brothers. “Gage and Callie are working on an eco-friendly spa and resort; there are eco-trips to every single continent and most countries. With our handle on Vegas and Nevada tourism, I think Reeves Pub should consider adding an eco-tourism imprint to the brand. Starting small, of course, with North American destinations, but expanding at a regular basis.”
“Isn’t that kind of niche-y for a publication?” Jase asked, his voice deep and slightly gruff.
“It is, but with the growth in that sector, it’s a strong move. Plus the addition of an eco-mag, and we could keep it online to start, driving the eco-friendliness of it all. If the online version goes well, and we add links to it from both Vegas Daily and Nightly online portals, we could add a print eco-mag, too. It’s a good way to test how Reeves Pub could play to a larger national audience, and maybe even go international.”
“It’s a risk.” Gage said, drumming his fingers on the conference tabletop.
Miranda acknowledged that. “We already have somewhat of an international base because of the attraction of Las Vegas to international travelers. It’s a good next step.”
Gage looked at Jase, who looked at Connor.
“It’s interesting,” Jase said.
“It’s a move that would strengthen Reeves Pub overall. Clayton Holdings is strictly a local news provider. No regional magazines, nothing national. We would be giving advertisers outside Las Vegas something to latch on to.” Miranda shuffled her papers. “If you’ll turn with me to the third page, I’ve outlined potential ad revenues,” she said, gathering steam.
This was what she’d wanted all through college and through those awful years she spent at the Foundation. The expansion plan would mean increased stability for Reeves Pub, although it would also mean a significant outlay of cash in the near-term.
She glanced up. Connor smiled at her, and her stomach flip-flopped. His blue eyes mesmerized her for a moment, and all she could think about were his long fingers releasing that stack of papers to reach for her. Miranda cleared her throat and continued. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He sat with one ankle resting on the opposite knee. He wrote something on the papers. This was why it was better to keep things on a business level with Connor. She didn’t have to wonder what he was thinking as he thumbed through the prospectus. This was business. Nothing personal.
She glanced at him again, concentrating on the papers before him. Just business. Just the way she wanted it. Her heart hammered beneath her breath. This was what she wanted, wasn’t it? That friendly smile, the kind they’d shared before she insisted on the no more kissing thing, nearly made her forget the proposal. She didn’t want to be tripped up like that.
Finished, Miranda waited for a long moment at the head of the conference table.
“I like it,” Gage said finally. “It fits nicely with the overall thrust of Connor’s magazines and newspapers, but it’s different from what is already on the market. Plus,” he shrugged, “I’m going to have an eco-property opening up next year, and I’m sure I could get a break on the advertising.”
“No way, pretty boy,” Connor said. “Family discounts are for retailers and amusement parks. You pay the full price.”
“I’d charge him at least double just for the crack about the discount,” Jase added. Gage rolled his eyes.
“I get no respect,” he said, but there was no malice in his voice.
“That’s because you’re just a pretty face.”
“Gentlemen,” Connor raised his voice. He turned his attention to Miranda, and her stomach tightened. God, it was like she was a gymnast the way her stomach seemed to cartwheel and flip according to where Connor looked or what he said. “We’ll work together on this. Look into freelancers, potential destinations. No canned ‘this is a great hostel’ or ‘the beauty of the desert’ pieces. We take people completely off the grid.”
“I can handle the additional research—”
“I know.” Connor shrugged off her comment. “But I take a hand in every project we start. I did it with the Daily; I did the first redesign of Vegas Nightly. Let’s start this up Monday morning.”
“Keep us updated,” Gage said and stood. “It was nice to see you again, Miranda.” Jase followed him to the door, but Connor remained at the conference table.
Miranda stacked her set of papers. Put them in the manila file folder. Should she go?
She didn’t want to go.
She definitely shouldn’t stay.
“That went much better than I expected.” She held the file folder to her chest. Presenting the eco-tourism idea was a good business decision. During a trip to Aspen after she planned an art auction, Miranda thought a regional, eco-friendly resort magazine would be a good addition to Clayton Holdings. Before she could present the idea to her father, she wanted him to see what eco-tourism was, so she invited her parents to a resort in the Rocky Mountains. William took one look at their small cabin, said no one wanted to spend five thousand dollars a night to sleep in a mud hut, and walked out. She knew better than to present a publication based on eco-tourism to him. But the magazine made sense for Connor. For all three of the Reeves brothers, actually.
And it was her idea.
“It’s a good addition, and you’re right, it will solidify our position not only in Las Vegas, but elsewhere, too.”
“I can handle the research and development.”
“I know you can. But like I said, I like to be involved.” Connor stood across the corner of the table from her. He watched her for a long moment. “I think we started this out on the wrong foot,” he said after a long moment. “I don’t normally kiss my employees in my office, and I never take them to the ranch. I’ve never taken anyone to see the glyphs.”
“I’m glad you shared them with me.” Change the subject, Miranda. Change the subject. She couldn’t think of a single, intelligent thing to say, so she turned toward the door.
“But I have dated an employee, once, before. Her name was Alyssa, and she was a reporter.”
Miranda’s mouth went dry, and her stomach clenched.
“She got caught up in Las Vegas. The lifestyle, the drinking, the parties. She thought she was a story, and her antics began to reflect badly on the newspaper.” Connor wiped a hand over his face. “She used her position here as an excuse to party harder, and one day she showed up to a story drunk. I had to fire her.”
“Oh, my God.” Miranda turned to face him. She expected to see annoyance in his expres
sion, but what she saw instead was pain.
“She threatened to sue for sexual harassment, and rather than expose either Reeves Pub or Reeves Brothers Entertainment to bad press, I settled.”
“Connor.” Miranda reached for his hand and squeezed.
“I’ve been little cavalier about this whole us-dating thing, and I don’t know where it would go, but I think,” he paused, “we should have dinner.”
Miranda blinked. She couldn’t be hearing him right. Have dinner? After what he just told her about his past? After what he already knew about hers? He had to be losing his mind.
“I have plans tonight.” The lie rolled off her tongue as if she’d planned it. “I can’t work late.”
“Not because we’re working late—it’s not even five o’clock—and not because your presentation for the new media outlet was perfect. Because I want to have dinner with you. Outside the office.”
“Connor …”
“We made a deal. People watching on the escalators, remember? A new restaurant opened at the Bellagio, and I hear it’s pretty good. Dinner, a little people watching. March Madness is coming up—”
“It’s not even Christmas, Connor.” But if he was already thinking about what they might be doing more than three months down the road … that could be something.
“It’ll be here before you know it.”
God, but she wanted to. Miranda wanted to throw caution to the wind, go to dinner with Connor, people watch with him, and not worry about what anyone else at the office might think, or what was sure to be coming from her father. What was it that Callie said in the library? As long as she knew why she was out with Connor, what did it matter what anyone else thought?
She’d stepped outside her comfort zone when she’d left Denver. She could take one more step away from the cautious, contemplative Miranda she had always been.
Maybe, just maybe, she should take the night and enjoy it.
The thought sent a thrill of excitement down her spine.
For the first time in her life, Miranda pushed aside the voice in her head, the one telling her to go slow, to check all the angles before moving ahead.
“Okay,” she said. “How about Saturday?”
• • •
The hostess, dressed in fire engine red from shoulder to ankle, led them through the restaurant to a small table near a window that overlooked the small lake with the dancing fountains. A string quartet played somewhere in the restaurant, small candles lit tables set for two, and the wait staff seemed to glide between the tables. Miranda knew the gliding was a combination of well-trained staff and dim lighting, but the effect still wowed her.
Connor wowed her.
The fact that she’d agreed to a date with him wowed her.
He’d picked her up at her apartment just before seven, wearing tailored pants, a navy sport coat, and an Oxford shirt open at the neck. He looked like he’d just stepped off a Tom Ford runway, and though she knew she looked good in the cream-colored dress with the fitted waist and flaring skirt, he looked better.
Every woman in the restaurant and a few of the men watched Connor as they walked to the corner table, and it gave Miranda a perverse little thrill. People she didn’t know wanted to be in her shoes tonight. That never happened, not even when she was the bell of so many of her mother’s balls in Denver.
Tonight might be the only night she spent with Connor, and she was determined to enjoy every second of it. The server returned, and they both ordered the salmon. Connor added a nice white wine, and then they were alone again.
“What made you say yes?” he asked after a moment.
She wasn’t about to go through the mental argument she’d been having since that first kiss, so Miranda merely said, “Impulse.”
“You don’t strike me as the impulsive type.”
“Moving over a thousand miles with no job prospects doesn’t strike you as impulsive?” In fact, though a little frightening, Miranda looked at her cross-country move as the sanest thing she had done in her entire life.
Saner than attending Colorado University because it was the school her father had attended, or pledging the same sorority her mother had pledged. Other than standing her ground to live in a dorm on campus and then a suite at the sorority rather than a private apartment paid for by her parents, moving to Las Vegas was the only thing she had ever done for herself. That was more pitiful than impulsive.
Connor tipped his wine glass in her direction. “You had a friend with an in to a local business.”
“True,” she said and sipped the wine. It was slightly heavy with an oak finish, and it was perfect. “What about you? What’s the most impulsive thing you’ve ever done?”
“I already told you, I’m not the risk taker. That would be Jase, and sometimes, Gage. I plot and I plan.”
“Surely there is one thing in the life of Connor Reeves that hasn’t been plotted or planned.”
“Getting you to agree to dinner was a shot in the dark. And risky. You’re best friends with Lila in Human Resources. There’s a whole section in the employee handbook about sexual harassment, improper conduct, and relationship disclosure forms.”
“That isn’t a funny joke.”
A flash of some emotion she couldn’t name crossed his face. “It wasn’t meant to be a joke. The rules were always there, I just ignored them.”
“And you’re ignoring them now because?”
He grimaced. “Because no matter how hard I try to remember that dating someone I work with is a bad idea, I just can’t stop thinking about you.”
“Nice line,” she said and sipped her wine.
“A pitiful truth, actually,” he said.
“This probably isn’t the time to bring this up,” she said, “but I’ve never dated a boss or a co-worker before. I don’t know exactly how this works. Do we need a set of rules? I can’t imagine winging something like this would be a good idea.”
“You mean how do we act in the office?”
She nodded. “Do I still call you Mr. Reeves?”
“You’ve never called me Mr. Reeves, not since the initial interview. No one calls me Mr. Reeves.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Why are you so worried about this?”
“Because I like my job. I like my co-workers. I don’t want to be that girl who everyone knows goes into the boss’s office at ten a.m. for a quickie over coffee.” Her stomach was tight, but for the first time, it wasn’t because of Connor. She’d seen the way secretaries and assistants watched her father, the way he watched them. She knew when William Clayton closed the blinds on his office window it wasn’t because he had a headache, but because he wanted privacy with whatever secretary or assistant had just made an excuse to come and see him. Miranda wouldn’t allow herself to become that kind of person. She took out a sheet of paper she’d printed off a dating website that afternoon. “There are some rules we could follow that will make this easier.”
“Rules like not doing it on my desk or yours in the middle of the day?”
She couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or angry, and it didn’t matter. She did like her job, and she wanted to keep it. If these rules worked to help them keep their private life from interfering with their business life, so be it. “Something like that.”
“Do I strike you as a nooner kind of guy?”
He didn’t, but then again, until she had interned at Clayton Holdings, she’d never envisioned her father as that kind of man, either, or her mother as the kind of woman who would turn a blind eye. “I think if we set up some ground rules, it will be simpler in the long run.”
Connor tilted his head to the side. “Ground rules like?”
“No public displays of affection. When we’re at work, we work. There is a lot to do with the new magazine launch, and we’re still not out of the woods with the existing publications.”
“So you won’t be coming into my office at odd moments with empty file folders and a desperate need for my body?”
His beautiful mouth twisted in a wicked smile.
“As the male form goes, yours is quite good. But I think I can control myself between the hours of nine and five.”
“So no nooners. Bummer. Any other rules we should abide by?”
“No nicknames.”
Connor blinked. “I shouldn’t call you Love Muffin within earshot of anyone in the office. Got it.”
“You shouldn’t call me Love Muffin anywhere.”
“No love muffins?”
Miranda wrinkled her nose. “Definitely not.”
“No nooners. No love muffins. So far, so good. Rule number three?”
“We shouldn’t advertise the fact that we had dinner tonight, or any other night. And we shouldn’t mention the kisses from before, either.”
“Damn it, I was planning on talking about that with the pressmen tomorrow.”
Miranda pursed her lips. “I’m serious. This doesn’t have to be a state secret, but we don’t need to advertise the fact that we’ve been on a date, either. At least, not until we know where this is or isn’t going.”
Connor was quiet for a long moment. “I want to be perfectly clear,” he finally said. “You’re the first woman I’ve ever kissed inside that building. Before … I kept that outside the office, not that that makes it any better or worse. You’re the first that I’ve sat at a roadside taco stand with.” The waitress delivered their plates, but neither Miranda nor Connor picked up their forks. “And I didn’t plan on telling anyone about tonight.”
Her heart beat harder in her chest. “Me, either,” she said.
They finished their meals, chatting about their favorite shows in Vegas. She told him about her favorite hole-in-the-wall diner in Denver, and he told her about a local burger joint he and his brothers had been frequenting for years. His brilliant, blue eyes captivated her. His hand brushed hers when they each reached for their wine glasses at the same time, and a burn began in her veins.
She was dating her boss. For the first time, that thought didn’t make her stomach cramp the way it had when she’d eaten too much chocolate one Halloween. It was a little hard to breathe. The room seemed to spin around them, like they were on the best kind of merry-go-round, and it had nothing to do with the wine. It was Connor.
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