Since caffeine would just make her more jittery, Megan chose to sit and read a magazine. Or try to read. She wasn't really having much luck interpreting the little squiggles on the page as words. Instead, she looked around the room. At the perfectly decorated space. At the abstract art that suggested pills and powders, but was more decorative than informative.
Still, the art made sense considering PCM's core business was pharmaceuticals.
Other than the nature of his business, she knew only the basics about Parker Manning's background. Like the fact that his Houston-based family had money, that he'd boarded at a private high school in Austin, and that he'd moved to Los Angeles to go to college. According to various gossip sources, he'd dated actresses, dabbled in producing, and been front and center with two successful companies that he'd turned around and sold right after they hit big.
Rumor had it he'd tripled his net worth within a year, and the starting number had been none-too-shabby.
After that, he'd fallen a bit off the social media and tabloid radar, though there were still the occasional rumors about whom he was dating and where he was traveling. Then three years ago, he'd formed PCM Enterprises, a small pharmaceutical company that had rocketed to success, shifting Parker's image in the tabloids from useless, monied playboy to brilliant entrepreneur with a wild past, a shadowy present, and money to burn.
All of which had made him perfect for the Man of the Month contest, even though at the moment Megan was wishing she'd never heard of the man. And she was getting seriously tired of waiting to see him.
Antsy, she rose and crossed to the reception desk again. "Actually, maybe I could speak with his assistant first? Lisa."
"I'm sorry, Tracy Miles is Mr. Manning's current assistant, and I'm afraid she's out today."
"Oh." Well, great. So much for talking through what happened with the former assistant. She was probably fired for being an unorganized idiot.
Then again, Megan hadn't kept proper track either. If she had, she would have realized she'd never received the signed agreement back. As much as it sucked, this had been her project, her baby, and her stupid, lame-ass mistake.
What a mess. All she'd wanted to do was prove to the folks at The Fix that Jenna hadn't made a mistake in hiring her. That she actually had a brain and could help out with all of the various tasks at the popular bar. Most important, she'd wanted to pitch in with the marketing, because that was Jenna's area, and Jenna had taken a risk by offering Megan a job, even though The Fix was on a tight budget. And even though Megan knew buckets about makeup but next to nothing about marketing.
She'd spent two whole nights brainstorming ideas, and had been so proud when Jenna and Tyree had loved the idea of advertising the entrants in the Man of the Month contest on pre-contest flyers instead of simply promoting the winner after the fact. From that idea, it naturally flowed that they'd want to up the game a bit where the entrants were concerned.
Yes, most of the guys who'd been entering were total hotties, but very few of them were local celebrities. But if they could get some of the local television guys or wealthy business owners ... basically anyone who made the news or the tabloids regularly, that would be a total plus. Especially if the guy was a social media draw.
And Parker Manning was about as social media centric as they came.
Megan had been foolishly certain that Parker would participate, if for no other reason than that she was the one doing the asking. True, she'd turned him down when he asked her out, but that was only because of timing. The truth was, she'd been tempted. Yes, he'd had a bad boy reputation, but back in LA she'd been wilder and stupider, and there'd been a definite tug in the area of her nether regions.
She shivered. If she could take it all back, she would have dumped Carlton in a heartbeat and accepted Parker's invitation. If she had, maybe she'd never have seen Carlton again. Maybe she'd never have bolted.
She'd left Los Angeles without looking back, and her first sight of Parker in Austin had been an unpleasant twinge, especially since she'd been so careful not to reveal her location on social media or even contact any of her former clients for recommendations or referrals. Maybe she was being overly paranoid, but so be it. She'd left LA to get away from Carlton; she wasn't about to telegraph where she was.
She'd almost not approached Parker because of that. But she also recalled that the tabloids had reported on a rift between them, apparently a nasty one. And so she'd decided to take the risk. She'd remained a bit hesitant, though, and that was part of the reason why she hadn't asked him to participate personally, but had put the request out through his assistant, who'd told her he'd love to be part of it.
But apparently his former assistant was a space cadet--and Megan was an idiot.
Now Parker was pissed, and Megan had to somehow dig herself out of this hole.
She had no idea how she was going to manage that. She hoped their past acquaintance would smooth the way. And groveling was definitely on the menu.
"Ms. Clark?"
At the sound of her name, Megan jerked, her head snapping up as the magazine in her lap tumbled to the ground. Clumsily, she bent to retrieve it, then clutched it to her chest as she looked up at a tall, elegant woman standing just inside the frosted glass doors that led into the depths of the office. "Yes?" she squeaked.
"Mr. Manning will see you now. If you'll just follow me?"
She drew in a deep breath, then nodded as she fell in step behind the leggy blonde
. Parker's office was down the hall. A corner office, of course, with a stunning view of the Capitol building, the University tower, and a wide spread of the Austin skyline.
More stunning than the view, though, was the man. Parker stood in front of his desk, leaning casually against it in a light gray suit that looked like it cost more than she made in a year. Possibly two.
His eyes met hers, an icy blue that somehow radiated heat, and she pushed her glasses more firmly up her nose, as if trying to lock him in focus.
"Ms. Clark," he said, his voice as cold as his eyes, but somehow underscored with a sensual tease. "I understand we have a little problem."
"I--well, yes." She tried to pull herself together, but dear God, he was distracting.