by KB Winters
Timeless Passion
Book 1
By USA Today and Wall Street Journal Bestselling Author
KB Winters
Copyright © 2015 KB Winters and BookBoyfriends Publishing LLC
Published By: BookBoyfriends Publishing LLC
Copyright and Disclaimer
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination and have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 KB Winters
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of the trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Contents
Timeless Passion Book 1
Copyright and Disclaimer
Chapter One — Grant
Chapter Two — Megan
Chapter Three — Grant
Chapter Four — Megan
Chapter Five — Grant
Chapter Six — Megan
Chapter Seven — Grant
Chapter Eight — Megan
Chapter Nine — Grant
Chapter Ten — Megan
Chapter Eleven — Grant
Chapter Twelve — Megan
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More From KB Winters
Acknowledgements
About The Author
Chapter One — Grant
It was one of my favorite days of the year—excluding Valentine’s Day, which always provided a cornucopia of hot, but desperate single girls to score—the annual marketing symposium at UCLA. It was the day that all marketing students either counted down to, or dreaded, for their entire senior year. It was a couple of months before graduation, and the students were tasked with one final project, that was not only essential to get right in order to pass the class, but it also carried the weight of being given a major job offer right out of school. Essentially, it was like draft day in the NFL.
Had it really been five years since I’d been one of them? I wondered, as I watched a nervous group of students waiting to present their projects. As I walked through the auditorium to my seat, I could feel the anxiety radiating off of them. I smiled to myself. It may have been years ago, but I knew for a fact that I’d never been that intimidated by it. My years at UCLA were mostly spent drinking and getting laid. Sure, occasionally I cracked open a book and jumped through all the academic hoops, but my college years had been for fun. I’d went to college knowing it was the only time in my life when I would be able to blow off steam and get away with just about anything. Because, waiting for me on the other side of the graduation stage was my father presenting me with the keys to my office at Timeless Timepieces.
God, it really had been five years.
I could remember it so clearly, graduation, and that week-long celebration in Tahiti, and then, coming home to start work the following Monday. And that’s where I’d been ever since—work. Not that it was a bad thing, I genuinely enjoyed my job. Sure, it took some time to settle in and get used to the schedule, and my personal life had taken some tweaking, but eventually I’d found a satisfactory balance between work and play.
I settled into my seat and waited for the first student to present. When I’d first started at Timeless Timepieces, my father, the CEO at the time, had sent me to the symposium every year to do recruiting for the marketing department. After his death two years ago, I’d taken up the CEO chair but had continued coming to the annual event in person, rather than farming it out to someone else. I liked the excitement and energy of the event itself, as the best of the best ran through the paces. Something about the energy was infectious and gave me a boost. Over the past few years, I’d scored some really talented assets that helped to shape the current marketing department, and this year I hoped to raise that bar even further.
The current marketing department had recently been rocked by a series of firings after a skimming plot was uncovered. Nearly half of the department had been weeded through, and the people I was left with were struggling to pick up the pieces. So, this year’s symposium was more important than ever if I had any hope of plugging up the holes left behind by the scandal.
A young man stepped onto stage and those in attendance fell silent as he began the first presentation. I wondered if it was best to be first or last. Overall, his presentation for a marketing campaign for a line of eco-friendly shopping bags was smooth, and the student had a strong voice, but I scratched off his name from the notepad in my hand. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I knew that he wasn’t what I was looking for. He was followed by a young woman. She was tall, blonde, and stacked. I couldn’t focus on what she talked about, because halfway through her presentation I remembered where I’d seen her before. She was one of the subs I’d been offered at the underground BDSM club, Fuego, the last time I’d gone. I ended up choosing a perky redhead over the blonde, but her face was still in my head, and seeing her again—albeit fully clothed—was too big of a distraction. I scratched out her name too, knowing that would never work out.
It had been awhile since my last visit to the club. Working on the latest line of watches had consumed all my time and energy over the last few months. Timeless Timepieces had been stagnant for awhile, and while sales held firm, I wasn’t satisfied with the overall direction of the company. I wanted to push into the next level, but finding what that next level was, took all my energy—mentally and otherwise. Trying to figure it out plagued me day and night until I finally came up with the idea that gave birth to the newest product line — Shock Watches.
During those months, I’d pretty much been boarded up in my office around the clock, and while I’d gone out a few times, to bars or clubs downtown, close to the office, by that point, it was more an act to release of tension. None of the girls I’d been with had lasted longer than the time it took to get on, get off, and get her home. It had been months since I’d let myself dominate and take my time with a woman.
Although, after the Shock Watches launched, things would slow down, and I could shift gears once again.
The blonde waved at the crowd and I dropped my eyes to my paperwork, not wanting her to recognize me. My reputation—to the public—was strictly business. I was the son who had taken over his father’s empire after his untimely death and was determined to carry on Timeless Timepieces legacy in honor of him.
All of which, was true, but didn’t exactly mesh well with my personal life. That was why it was imperative to keep them separated.
Two and a half hours passed before the host of the event announced there would be an hour long break for lunch. I hung back, waiting for most of the room to clear before I stood and left the auditorium. I knew it was only a matter of time before someone recognized me and wanted to personally pitch me on some idea. In addition to being a CEO of a billion dollar empire, I also had an impressive venture capitalist portfolio and had been the driving force behind several huge launches. Which at a place like the symposium, basically made me catnip to all the students with entrepreneurial ambitions.
I wasn’t in the mood for lunch, choosing instead to wander out of the auditorium and away from the masses scurrying to find a quick bite, and meandered down the external breezeway which had been set up with dozens of boo
ths showcasing different ad campaigns. I paid quite a bit of money to get Shock Watches a booth—partly in hopes of having some idea sparking conversations with the students who stopped by to look, in case I wasn’t taken by anyone in the presentation portion of the event. Ideally, I needed to round up four marketing minds to bring on board starting in July. But I had an ulterior motive as well, mainly that having it at the UCLA event would not only get some raw feedback from the brightest up and coming marketers, but it would also ensure that I got the ads in front of a sea of eyeballs that belonged to the next generation of wealthy business movers and shakers—all of whom, would need to rock an impressive new watch when they won their first big pitch.
I spotted the electric blue of the Shock Watches marketing board from a few feet away, but slowed my pace as I neared when I spotted a woman standing over the display case that held replicas of some of the new product.
Although I could only see her from behind, I knew that I didn’t recognize her from the presentations, and being an ass man, I knew that I would have remembered hers. She leaned over the case, giving me an even better view as her mid-thigh length dress crept up in the back. She was studying the Timeless Timepieces booth, and I was compelled to know what she was looking at so intently.
I sidestepped a large group of students to take a closer look. She was petite—probably no taller than five-three, but she carried her curves well. Perfectly proportioned. My lips twitched into a smile as I let my mind dream up what her body would look like out of her slightly vintage looking a-line dress. Her hair was raven black and pulled back into a long ponytail that went halfway down to her perky ass. She wore some chunky, art deco earrings, and a pair of black ballet flats to complete her interesting ensemble.
And interesting, she was.
I unclipped my name badge that some buck-toothed freshman had given me at the registration area and slipped the plastic coated card into my pocket. I knew I wouldn’t be able to pass as a student, but she didn’t need to know who I was. Not at first, anyways.
I cut across the breezeway and joined her in front of the display that was carefully crafted to showcase the Shock Watches line. All of my efforts had been poured into the line, in hopes of catapulting Timeless Timepieces out of the country club, golf buddies demographic, and onto the arms of the young and upcoming wealth in the country. The project was a result of nearly a year of my investment, both time and piles of money. It would be dramatic to say that everything was riding on the success of the line, but I couldn’t see how Timeless was going to continue once all the baby boomers were gone if I didn’t find some way to make it relevant to the 18-35 category—and fast.
“Enjoying the symposium?” I asked, stepping into the intriguing woman’s space.
She jolted, as though I’d pulled her from deep thought, and gave me a quick once over. “Hi. Um, sure.”
She was so taken aback by me it only made my heart pump harder. Up close, she was even more gorgeous than I’d imagined, and with one look up and down her curves, I knew I had to have her.
She had no idea what I was capable of, but I would love the chance to show her.
Her big green eyes darted between me and the display, as I continued to stare at her. “You?” she asked.
I nodded and flashed a smile. “Immensely. Do you like these?” I asked, directing her glace back to the Shock Watch display.
She studied it, and I watched her, gauging her reaction. Personally, I’d seen the display so much that it was burned into my corneas. Along with my in-house marketing team, nearly five hundred hours had been spent making sure it was just right.
I watched her, wondering what her name was, and suddenly her face fell. She looked back at me, and her pert nose was wrinkled. “Honestly?”
“Of course,” I replied.
“I’m not in love with it.”
I smiled but narrowed my eyes slightly. “Really? And why is that?”
She tore her eyes away from me and looked back at the display. “Well, I think the watches are—nice, but, oh I don’t know. Obviously, I’m not their target market, so what does it matter what I think?”
I’d spooked her. I shrugged, releasing the tension between my shoulder blades, and gave a more natural smile. “I think they’re pretty impressive. Badass, some might say.”
She laughed and immediately covered her mouth, muffling the melodic sound. “Sorry, I’m so sorry,” she apologized when she gathered herself.
“What?” My eyes roamed over the poster, wondering what I’d missed. This girl—whoever she was—was wrong, she was exactly who I wanted to be my target audience. Maybe she wouldn’t buy one for herself, but she looked edgy. Ideally, I wanted her—or someone like her—to get on board and be attracted to the brand. After all, watches were a very common gift item. Surely this girl had brothers—or a boyfriend—that would like a Shock Watch.
The boyfriend question stuck in my head. I’d already appraised her jewelry and noted that an engagement or wedding band wasn’t present.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “If you like them, that’s totally cool. No judgment.”
“Aha. No offense taken,” I assured her. “But, tell me why. What turned you off?”
And suddenly I was wondering what would turn her on…
She pointed at the top of the display, where the Shock Watches logo was displayed in big, bold lettering with an electric blue lightning bolt running through the middle of the words. “These watches are nice enough, but they’re missing that extra edge that the creator is so obviously trying to give them. I mean, the ads are working harder than the product. I know they’re from the Timeless Timepieces brand, which is a really high end brand, so I’m sure they’re great. Quality. But this ad is so overdone.”
“How so?” I asked, tearing my eyes away from her and looking up where she was pointing.
“Starting from the lettering up here, and then the color scheme throughout, it doesn’t really give me the top dollar feeling that you know these things are going to sell for. I look at this and I’m picturing the watch department at Target or something. They don’t look high end enough to be part of the Timeless brand. If I just saw this ad, I would picture something made of plastic, or something.”
Ouch. Target? The most basic Shock Watch had a $15,000 price tag to go along with it. Last time I checked, that was outside the scope for big box retailers and discount shops.
“These watches are made of gold, platinum, and titanium. Some of the upper tier ones have precious gems and stones embedded in the face.”
“Exactly,” she said. “But if you didn’t see the watch, and just saw the logo? What would you think?”
It was hard for me to disassociate the two. I folded my arms and looked back at her. “All right, then how would you suggest marketing them, then? How would you do it?”
“I’d drop the lightning bolt altogether. I mean, really? Who’s their spokesperson? Thor?”
“What if they had a more Indiana Jones feel?” I asked. That had been one of the original pitches, but the rest of the team hadn’t quite caught the vision. Majority rule shot that idea down, but if the public liked it, perhaps it was worth a shot.
The girl rolled her eyes. “Wow. That’s even worse. No 90’s movies or super hero inspiration. Like what? Here’s your Indiana Jones lunch box, backpack, and a Shock Watch? I hardly think so.”
The blood was pumping hard and fast through my veins as this woman single-handedly shredded a campaign that had taken months of hard work to build. The worst part was, as she explained it, I was starting to see that she was right.
Maybe the entire thing was too shtick-y.
“I would say, make the design and logo all black, keep the bold lettering, and lose the lightning bolt. Maybe outline the letters with the electric blue if it absolutely has to stay. That would make the letters stand out more. I would display the watches in solid black boxes with the same shocking blue on the inside lining. That would make the gold and platinum po
p, especially on the ones with stones on them. That would probably draw the eye even more in a case of them and would probably sell more of those more expensive ones. They need to hire a team. I’m thinking three, celebrities that are cool, young, and fresh. Action stars—but again, no super heroes or Indiana Jones, so they shouldn’t even think Harrison Ford, no matter how incredible he is. Anyways, the commercials should have slick cars, gorgeous women, but not slutty ones, and then some kind of flash, lux backdrop. Each one could tell a story, and of course, the hero wears the watch. Maybe nothing but the watch…” She drifted for a moment before shaking her head and blushing slightly at her unfiltered comment. “Just my two cents.”
My mouth was practically hanging open by the time she finished. Her marketing talk had my cock halfway ready to go, and the way her pouty lips moved, had it the rest of the way there.
She ran her eyes over me. “I mean, really, what you’re wearing would totally work. If you have a sports car to back up that suit, you should call Timeless and offer to be their model.”
“Thank you. I do have a pretty sick car, but I’m not really in the market for a modeling gig.”
She nodded, and I noted that her skin flushed slightly.
“Really though, that critique was fantastic. You’re going to be a great asset to a marketing team. You’ll probably have people knocking you over to offer you a job by the end of this thing.”
She laughed. “Oh, I’m not—no, no, I’m not a marketer.”
I brushed over her comment and extended her my hand, “I didn’t catch your name.”
She took it and gave me another glimmer of her perfect smile. “I’m Megan Louise, but most people call me Megan.”
“Megan,” I repeated, letting the name roll off my tongue. “I’m Grant, but most people call me Mr. Christiansen.”
“Grant Christiansen? As in—” Her eyes flicked over to the Shock Watches display.
I nodded, unable to hold back a small smile at her growing horror.
She immediately dropped my hand and it flew back to cover her mouth. “Oh my God!”