Page 1 of Tell Me Something

CHAPTER ONE

I looked at my watch and sighed, stealing a glance at my boss. The guy was going to have an aneurysm if the model didn’t show up soon, so I stood to the side and out of his way. With Warren Carlyle’s pacing and the extra fifty pounds or so he was carrying on his frame, he would be sweating through his expensive suit at any moment. This had to be his worst nightmare as the senior vice president on a million-dollar advertising campaign, to be waiting on Katrina Tross, a hot, upcoming model who was the It Girl of this year.

The location of the hotel rooftop and bar, used for photo shoots such as this, had been confirmed with her agent yesterday, along with the time. But Katrina’s agent wasn’t answering the phone now. I didn’t know Warren very well as I hadn’t worked for him that long, but I had witnessed his displeasure and was not looking forward to the fallout if the model’s absence jeopardized the Cassius Rum ad campaign.

It probably wasn’t a coincidence that Katrina Tross’ asking price had quadrupled since our company had booked her eight months ago and now she was a no-show, but I kept my thoughts to myself. No one wanted to hear from an administrative assistant who’d only been part of the advertising world a mere four months. If I was lucky, it would only be for nine more. By then I’d have enough saved up for law school.

I glanced over at the waiting professionals who’d earlier converted a small supply closet into a dressing room: the costly hair stylist flown in from New York, the fashion designer, and one of the best photographers in the business, Bart Chesley, whose asking price was most likely a large chunk of the budget for the day. He was an older man who looked a bit eccentric with his ponytail and a pair of hipster jeans that no one with gray hair should probably be wearing. He was practically steaming over his time being wasted and seemed to have had no issue telling Warren as much a few minutes earlier. Unlike most people, he wasn’t intimidated by my boss.

When I thought matters couldn’t get any worse, a tall man in a well-tailored suit strode in. My boss’s entire demeanor changed instantly as he rushed to greet the stranger, a man who made it obvious he was in charge.

As I watched the newcomer walk closer with Warren, I sucked in my breath. He was, for lack of a better word, gorgeous. Tall, with broad shoulders and sporting short, dark black hair, he had features that were classically chiseled and definitively masculine.

I knew I was staring, but thankfully I wasn’t the only one. Trisha, the makeup girl, sidled up next me.

“Wow, he’s even hotter in person. All that money and a nice package —he is something,” she acknowledged.

I nodded and then realized she spoke as though she knew him. “Who is he?”

She laughed. “Sorry, I forgot you’re new. That’s Josh Singer, as in owner and CEO of Gamble Enterprises. That includes Gamble Advertising, Gamble Properties, and Gamble Productions. He’s the only man I know who can make Warren sweat it.”

I knew the name but had never seen the man. “He seems really young to have all that.”

Trisha shrugged. “I think the advertising and hotels came from his father. The movie production thing is newer.”

“He looks pissed.” I watched him speak to Warren in a terse tone that I couldn’t quite hear.

“Yeah, well, he’s known for his temper. His messy divorce from that Brazilian supermodel a few years ago was quite the tabloid fodder.”

We both observed him make a quick phone call and then go over to speak with Bart the photographer, who obviously felt comfortable enough with Josh that he made his frustrations known.

“We only have the space until four. Where the hell is she?” Bart grumbled.

“You know he’s kind of intense-looking, but maybe that’s what makes him hotter, you know?” Trisha sighed.

All I could do was nod. I snapped out of it when Warren barked at me.

“Haylee.”

Walking quickly over to the three men, I met the dark green eyes of Josh Singer and then tried to focus on my boss. “Yes, Mr. Carlyle?”

“You said that you confirmed with her agent yesterday?”

“Yes, sir, I did. I’ve been trying his phone as well as her assistant’s over the last hour, but I’ve only gotten voicemail.”

“And did you leave a message?”

His voice was so condescending that it took all of my effort not to say something smart. Instead, I took a deep breath while trying to ignore Josh’s eyes on me. Warren was trying to appear like he was in control, especially in front of his boss.

“Yes, sir, I left several.”

We all turned at the same time toward a commotion in the doorway and watched as Katrina Tross herself came strutting into the bar.

“About damned time,” Bart muttered under his breath.

Warren was all smiles for the model, shifting completely into what I called his schmoozing role. I assumed it went with the territory at his level in the advertising world. “Hello, my dear, good to see you. We’re running behind, so if we can get you into hair and makeup, we can get started.”

Quirking a brow, she gave Josh an assessing look with a sexy smile. “Fine, but I only have one hour.”