Holiday Playbook
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Yahrah St. John
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HarlequinOne
“Anything new to report, Giana?” Roman Lockett asked during the Atlanta Cougars’ managers’ meeting the Monday after the long Thanksgiving weekend.
As the chief marketing and branding officer, Giana Lockett oversaw the football team’s marketing efforts and business operations and strategies surrounding the team’s brand. She hated when her brother called her out like he was the teacher and she was the student, especially since she was the only woman sitting at a table full of men.
“I’ve begun working with the Lockett Foundation to help spearhead the league’s efforts in youth football and community outreach, as well as finalizing a college basketball tournament here at the arena.”
“That’s great, Giana,” her father, Josiah Lockett, chimed in. “And what about endorsements for Curtis?”
Curtis Jackson was a star wide receiver and the Atlanta Cougars’ newest recruit.
“We’ve got Curtis teed up for sneaker, fast food, cell phone and luxury vehicle endorsements.”
“And what about sports drinks?” her father pressed.
Giana knew exactly what he was asking about. Her father wanted to work with LEAN, a sports drink brand owned by Wynn Starks’s company. But the elusive billionaire had kept Giana at arm’s length for much of the year. Usually, it was the other way around with companies coming to athletes, but LEAN seemed determined not to join forces with the Atlanta Cougars, which was why the deal was especially appealing to her father. He hated being told no.
Giana had gone through the usual channels of making a pitch to Starks’s marketing team about what a great partnership they could have. And she’d spoken with his personal assistant in the hopes she’d make headway, but for months Wynn Starks had doggedly given her the slip. Her perseverance had won out and she’d garnered a meeting for today.
“I’m exploring different options,” Giana finally replied, keeping her response cagey.
“Excellent. Sounds like you have it under control.” Roman gave her a wink. “Let’s move on to the injured list as we head into the playoffs.”
The meeting finished up shortly after. Her father rushed off for an appointment, leaving Giana blessedly free from another tirade about why she hadn’t managed to get the Starks Inc. deal.
“Thanks for the assist, Rome,” Giana said after the remaining staff cleared the room.
“I’ve got your back.”
Giana glanced up at her big brother. “Thank you.” At six foot two, her brother was several inches taller than her. Today he was in a gray designer suit with a navy tie and looked every bit the general manager he’d become several months ago when their father stepped back from the role. Roman was easy on the eyes, with milk chocolate skin the same as hers and a sculpted beard.
“I knew Dad was about to fire into you on LEAN, and I didn’t think you wanted the heat.”
“I didn’t, but don’t worry. I have a meeting scheduled with Wynn Starks today and hope to land the deal.”
Roman’s bushy eyebrows rose. “Sure you’re not overconfident, Gigi? He has been hard to pin down.”
“I play to win, Rome,” Giana responded. “Same as you.”
“Go get ’em, tiger.” He laughed when she sashayed out of the room.
Minutes later when she returned to her office, however, her boss lady ego was deflated. “What do you mean, he canceled?” Giana folded her arms across the blazer of her navy blue suit and regarded her assistant, Mara Hall. “I thought this was a done deal.”
“It was until his PA called me a few minutes ago and said Mr. Starks is fully booked and didn’t have a minute to spare.”
Giana rolled her eyes. It was a bald-faced lie. Wynn Starks must have learned she was on his calendar and told his PA to call off their meeting. A meeting she’d booked weeks ago. She couldn’t understand why he managed to foil her every time, but she refused to play by the rules any longer. “Mara, can you get me the report Nico Shapiro did on Mr. Starks?”
Nico was the investigator the Atlanta Cougars kept on retainer to handle delicate situations. He was damn good at his job.
“Of course.” Mara left her office, and Giana leaned back in her executive chair and fumed.
If Mr. Starks wanted to play hardball, that’s exactly what Giana would do. She hadn’t grown up around three brothers without learning how to play dirty.
Mara returned several minutes later holding a manila folder. She handed it to her. “Thank you,” Giana responded. “Can you close the door, please?”
Once Mara had gone, Giana reviewed the report again. It stated Wynn frequented a local gym and liked to box. So she came up with a strategy. She would show up where he was until he had no choice but to talk to her.
Wynn Starks was in a foul mood. He’d thought it was going to be a good day. He’d run five miles. The workout had cleared his mind and gotten him into the right head space to run the sports drink company he’d founded a decade ago.
Riding his limited-edition MTT Turbine Streetfighter to the office, he’d felt the wind against his face and felt alive. But that had been the last of the good vibes this morning. The first miss had been when he arrived and his personal assistant, Sam Clark, had informed him he had a meeting scheduled with Giana Lockett.
Sam was an unassuming young fellow with pale skin, floppy brown hair and a warm smile, who preferred Dockers and a polo shirt to a suit and tie.
Wynn’s face scrunched into a frown as he finished off the protein shake Sam had waiting for him. “I thought I eighty-sixed that meeting?” He guzzled the shake, and before he could hand it to Sam, his assistant was already taking the container from him.
“Yes, you did, but she rescheduled.”
“I’m not interested in meeting a spoiled rich princess who wouldn’t know the value of hard work if it hit her in the face.”
After Giana Lockett reached out to him the first time, Wynn had done his research. She hailed from the Locketts, who owned the Cougars, Atlanta’s football franchise. They were connected and well-known in town and were exactly the kind of people Wynn steered clear of. They reminded him too much of his ex-wife Christine’s family. They were all about money, power and privilege which wasn’t everything in Wynn’s mind. He’d always tried to make sure his money, power and privilege were used to help others and not just make his pockets fatter.
Wynn wasn’t a fan of football players. When he’d been in high school, he’d been mercilessly bullied by jocks on the football team. He’d always been lean and trim, but back then he’d been much smaller and they’d taken advantage of him, taking his lunch money or stuffing him in his locker. Because of the experience he’d steered clear of football teams and instead focused his attention on other athletes.
“She’s been very persistent,” Sam stated, following him into his office.
“Give her the brush-off. I don’t care how you do it. Just get rid of her.”
Sam left, and Wynn thought the day would improve, but then he’d heard from focus groups that the new drink Starks Inc. planned on debuting wasn’t up to par and its release would have to be pushed back. Wynn gritted his teeth. He hated failure.
Starks Inc. specialized in sports drinks, fresh-made juices and smoothies. His initial effort, LEAN, had brand-name recognition and had put Starks Inc. on the map. The investors who’d made him a billionaire several times over at the age of thirty were expecting the next big thing, and Wynn had to deliver.
He was still feeling out of sorts when he showed up to his favorite gym in Buckhead to meet his best friend, Silas Tucker, later that afternoon for one of their regular sparring sessions. Silas was a famous restaurateur in Atlanta and owned several restaurants. He’d made it big after winning a chefs’ competition on television.
“Hey, man, it’s good to see you,” Silas said, giving Wynn a one-armed hug.
Silas and Wynn were about the same height and were both athletic and lean, which was why they matched perfectly in the boxing ring. Their biggest difference? Silas’s dark looks always served him well with the ladies who liked chocolate brothers over Wynn’s tawny light brown complexion and perpetual five o’clock shadow.
“Give me a minute and I’ll be right out.” Wynn headed toward the locker room and changed into a tank and shorts. After placing his duffel bag in the locker, he walked back to the gym. He loved the energy here and needed to blow off some steam.
“What’s with the frown?” Silas asked when Wynn came toward him. “Bad day at the office?”
When he didn’t reply, Silas didn’t pry. His friend knew when Wynn was ready to talk, he would. Instead, Silas joined him in a quick warmup of some squats with a kettle ball, shoulder stretches and jump rope. Wynn did his usual one-two bounce on his feet and then left hook, right jab combination.
Once his muscles were sufficiently warmed up, Wynn began wrapping his hands to prevent sprains. He strapped one gloved wrist in place before finishing the other. When he was ready to go, he joined Silas in the ring and put his mouth guard in place and his helmet over his head.
“What’s new?” Silas asked as they began sparring.
“The usual work, work and work.”
“Life isn’t all about work, my friend. You’ve been going ninety miles an hour for a few years, since before Starks Inc. went public. In case you didn’t know it, you’ve arrived.”
Silas paused, which gave Wynn the opportunity to give him a one-two punch. “Hey, no fair. I wasn’t ready.” Silas rubbed his jaw with his gloved hand.
“Perhaps you should stop talking, then,” Wynn replied, stepping back into a boxing stance. “I have some aggression to get rid of.” If he couldn’t punish himself in the ring, he would go for another run or work out in his home gym.
“The best way to get rid of this tension is with a little female attention, if you get my drift,” Silas responded with a quick right-cross hook.
Wynn bobbed to the outside and missed the incoming attack. “When I’m in need of female company, I know how to find it.”
“You could have fooled me. When was your last date?”
Wynn couldn’t recall, but it didn’t much matter because he wasn’t interested in women. He hadn’t been since his ex-wife, Christine Davis, had stomped all over his heart and damn near taken his business. Lucky for him, his ironclad prenup had survived the battle. He was congratulating himself when a hush fell across the gym.
“What the hell?” Wynn went to turn around and Silas returned with a quick hook, which brought Wynn to his knees just in time to see the most fabulous set of toned brown legs come into his line of sight. No wonder every man in the gym had gone silent. This intruder had legs for days, and Wynn could only imagine what they might feel like wrapped around him.
Wynn’s eyes traveled up the woman’s body until he found himself looking into the stormy dark brown eyes of none other than Giana Lockett.
Her expression said it all.
She was angry—livid, in fact. Even without her saying a word, Wynn could feel his body respond to her. It was a twist in the gut, knowing a beautiful woman could have this effect on him when he’d sworn off women for an indefinite period. He swore as he rose to his feet, because he suspected Giana had come to give him a piece of her mind—and despite himself, Wynn was excited at the prospect.
Giana folded her arms across the sports bra top she was wearing along with her high-waisted leggings. She knew her outfit was revealing, but she’d wanted to grab Wynn Starks’s attention, maybe even push him a little to finally take notice of her. She hadn’t thought about how her outfit might be viewed by the other men working out in the gym. All she’d known was she had to shake things up, even if it meant coming to his home turf.
She walked toward the ring where Wynn was sparring with another man and got a good look at all six feet three inches of him.
Giana couldn’t resist licking her suddenly dry lips. Online and in the pictures in Nico’s folder, Wynn Starks had looked sleek and groomed, but right now he looked dangerous. His tank and gym shorts showed off his athletic physique, trim hips and muscled arms. He had closely cropped dark hair, thick eyebrows and deep brown eyes. Shadowy stubble outlined his strong jaw. Her body warmed, but Giana fought off the sentiment. She was here for business, and she wouldn’t let Wynn’s good looks deter her.
“Mr. Starks. You’re a hard man to get in touch with,” Giana said when he gave no indication he intended to speak.
She watched him whisper something into his friend’s ear and couldn’t help but notice the other man’s smirk as he exited the ring stage left. Then Wynn was taking off his boxing gloves and lifting the ropes to jump down until he was standing a few feet away from her.
“Did you ever think perhaps I didn’t want to be found?”
“We had an appointment.”
“Which I canceled, but clearly you didn’t take the hint. Tell me, Giana Lockett, do you always make it a habit of stalking people and going places you’re not wanted?”
“You know who I am?” Giana responded.
“Of course I do.” Wynn’s fierce eyes met hers. “You’re a Lockett. Everyone in this towns knows you.”
“Then you know I’m a businesswoman, Mr. Starks, and maybe, just maybe if you’d given me some professional courtesy and kept our previous appointments, I wouldn’t have taken the drastic measure of accosting you at the gym.” She caught the way Wynn’s eyes roamed from her face down to the sports bra she was wearing and lower to her snug-fitting leggings.
“I appreciate what you’re wearing, Ms. Lockett, as I’m sure every other man here in the gym does.” He quickly surveyed the room. “But that was your intent, right? You wanted to be noticed.” He walked past her to some shelving, which held rolled-up towels. He grabbed one and wiped the sweat off his face.
“I want you to stop canceling our appointments and hear me out,” she responded hotly.
“I’m afraid your actions have been for naught, Ms. Lockett, because I’m not buying whatever it is you’re selling.” Wynn had never shared his history of bullying with anyone in interviews, so Giana had no idea he was not a fan of football jocks. He went to walk past her, but Giana reached out and grabbed his arm.
“Wait!” She glared up at him, and his gaze lingered on her. For a few brief seconds, Giana saw a shift in Wynn, because he’d felt it, too—a jolt of electricity zinged up her arm and Giana felt a rush of sexual awareness. Immediately, she pulled back her hand and cradled it close to her body, as if she’d been burned.
She didn’t want to jeopardize their business with any pesky feelings. And Wynn’s expression quickly changed back to hostility, as if she’d imagined the moment of connection.
“Won’t you at least give me a chance?” She had to get him to see she was more than a pretty face. “The Atlanta Cougars and our players can be a great resource to help build Starks Inc.’s recognition in the marketplace.”
“I don’t need you or anyone else coming in here telling me how to run my company. I’ve done quite well on my own thus far,” Wynn stated. “Go home, Ms. Lockett.”
Wynn left her standing in the middle of the gym.
Scorned.
Of all the pigheaded men Giana had ever dealt with, Wynn Starks was the worst. For some reason, he held a very low opinion of her, and she couldn’t fathom why. She’d never met him, but Wynn Starks certainly had a block where she was concerned, and for the life of her, Giana couldn’t figure out how to break through it.
