Man of the Year. Lisa Ruff
on,” Brenda added smugly.
“I said he was sexy, not that I was interested in him.”
“I say go for it, Sam. If he’s as sexy as you—”
“You know I can’t, even if I did want to,” Samantha interrupted. “I told you what Elliott said.”
“He can’t tell you who you can and can’t date,” Brenda said.
“Sure he can. He holds all the cards. At least as far as the team is concerned.”
“You think he’d cancel the contract because you went on a date with a player?” Brenda was incredulous.
“I don’t know if he would cancel, but he could make our lives very difficult,” Samantha said, serious now. “I can’t—I won’t—take the risk of finding out how far he’s willing to be pushed. I do know Elliott was dead serious when he said he didn’t want any trace of scandal around the team.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Brenda sounded doubtful.
“I know I am. We need this contract much more than I need a date with some smooth-talking, sexy farm boy from Oklahoma.”
“It’s your call, Sam.”
“Exactly, and I don’t want anything that smells even vaguely suspicious getting back to Elliott’s nose. Besides, I get enough of baseball from Boomer. More, I don’t need.”
“Speaking of which, what are you going to do about him?” Brenda shuffled the pictures and came up with Boomer’s. “What’s his bit in all this?”
“Nothing special. I treat him just like any other player. He knows that and so do I. Elliott didn’t seem to think there was a problem, as long as we both knew that there would be no special treatment. I told him about the connection, but it turns out he already knew. Thanks to Boomer.”
“He told him?” Brenda asked, surprised. “Why would he do that?”
“Little brother didn’t want any blotch on his career because I was bidding on the team’s ad contract.”
“Huh? I don’t get it.”
Samantha shrugged. “That’s how he explained it. As it turned out, I may have gotten the contract because of my connection with him, at least indirectly. Elliott said that my knowledge of baseball was one thing that tipped the scale in our favor.”
“That and being low bidder.”
“Well, his budget is tight this year, so that worked to our advantage as well.”
Samantha was philosophical about why she had beaten other, more prestigious firms for the high-profile job. In the end, all that mattered was that she knew her team could do the work as well as, or better than, any other firm. She had convinced Elliott of that. And her spiel to him was not merely boastful, hopeful words. Samantha would not have taken the contract if she did not think Emerald was right for the job and that the job was right for Emerald.
The size of the project was a bit daunting for a small company, though. The firm would be responsible for not only the advertising, but also a new logo, uniform design and colors. Caps, buttons, bumper stickers, giveaways—the list was endless. They would set up interviews for the players at local radio and television stations. The budget ran into the millions.
To handle all this work, Samantha had to turn away numerous smaller jobs, some with clients that she hated to lose. In the past, those small jobs had been the company’s bread and butter. The contract with the Rainiers would usurp all their resources. If Emerald succeeded, it would earn national exposure. Other corporate clients would notice the small company from Seattle and come courting. Samantha’s fledgling firm would fly to a higher altitude in the ad business. With that flight would come money and prestige.
And if they failed? Samantha had not thought much about that possibility. Without consulting her accountant, she knew her business could not afford to lose. If Emerald failed to show Mr. Elliott a healthy return on all his advertising dollars, it would be stretched pretty thin, maybe too thin to recover. Nothing like putting all our eggs in one basket, Samantha had thought when she signed the contract.
“So, Bren, this is the big one. Let’s get started. I want to schedule a kickoff meeting with everyone on Monday. Afternoon is best.” She gathered up the photos.
Brenda jotted a few more notes on her pad of paper, then boosted herself out of the chair. “Right, boss. I’ll set it up.”
Samantha dropped the photos in the center of the mess on her desk. As if by magic, Jarrett’s picture slid out of the pile. He smiled up at her.
“Wipe that cocky grin off your face, Jarrett Corliss,” Samantha warned the man in the photo as she tapped his nose with the eraser end of her pencil. “I’ve got plans for you.”
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