Page 15 of Pursued by the Player

"It was Kennedy's decision," Joel added. The two men followed in her wake as she walked down the row of cubicles toward Kennedy's office.

"Ah, there you are." Kennedy opened his office door and held out his arms as she approached. "My little star."

"Star?" Greg asked.

"But we were the ones who got the account," Joel added.

Kennedy waved his hand at the two men. "Excuse us; this is a private meeting." He slid his arm around Mel and steered her inside. "Hold all of my calls," he said to his assistant Jill as he shut the door behind them.

"You wanted to see me, Mr. Brach?"

"Yes, yes. And call me Kennedy."

That was a first. Her boss had always insisted that everyone called him Mr. Brach out of respect. Clutching her notebook tighter, she hung out by the door. Her boss wasn't a pleasant man, and he seemed almost giddy as he unbuttoned the top button on his burgundy suit coat and sat behind his desk. Something was up, but she didn't know what.

"Please, have a seat." Kennedy ran his hand through his expertly tousled ebony hair.

Mel glanced at the chair and hesitated. "No thanks, I think I'll stand."

"Come now, we're all friends here." he motioned to the seat. "Sit."

There was definitely something going on. Kennedy was never so nice to her. Hell, he was never so nice to anyone. Mel slowly moved to the seat and sat on the edge.

"Good," Kennedy said as Mel put her notebook in her lap. "Have you seen this afternoon’s paper?"

"No."

"I see." He spread his fingers over the front page and then turned it to face her. "It seems as if you have managed to make the front page.

Mel widened her eyes as she stared down at the story. "Oh God."

"Fantastic, isn't it?" Kennedy leaned back in his seat and steepled his fingers. "This creates such a delicious opportunity."

Mel snatched up the newspaper and stared at the picture. It was taken of her, shortly after the almost-accident. She was laying sprawled on the ground in her mystery man’s arms. She stared at his handsome face, and at how gently his arms cradled her body. Heat crept over her skin as she remembered what had followed in his limo.

"I'm surprised you didn't give him your number."

"What?" Mel glanced up from the paper.

Kennedy leaned forward and tapped the headline. "Seems as if lover boy can't get you out of his head. He's looking for you."

Mel glanced down at the headline, which read "Superstar Jett Gorski looks for lost love."

"Turn it over."

Mel glanced at her boss, then flipped over the paper. The second picture was of her handsome stranger, walking around outside Black Towers with an obnoxious pink shoe in his hand. Underneath the picture, it talked about how Jett, starting pitcher for the Los Angeles Lions and renowned playboy, was spotted wandering around outside Black Towers asking people if they knew the owner the other sequenced pink shoe.

"You did great, kid."

"I did?" Mel asked as she set down the paper, head spinning at the revelation that her mystery man was no mystery to most of the world. What had she gotten herself into?!

"Yeah. You left him wanting. Men love that shit." He grinned and leaned his elbows on his desk. "Now it's time we go in for the kill."

"The kill?"

"Yes." He cleared his throat. "I want you to ask him to be the face of our new all-sports line."

"You what?"

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