As they stopped outside her office, Kason's thoughts were on Revelle. They were about to face off.
He wanted to walk out of her office the same way he would walk in: without a campaign.
“You can go first,” Rhaden told Kason as he crossed to a cluster of chairs centered between hallways. “Take it easy on Revelle.” His comment turned Kason around. Dunn looked worried. “She gives eighty hours a week to the organization. She's pro-Rogue.”
“Lady needs a hobby or a boyfriend.”
Rhaden shuffled the magazines on a side table. “She has neither.”
“Maybe you could qualify as her hobby.”
Rhaden ducked his head. Heat reddened the back of his neck. The magazine he picked up and pretended to read was upside down. The man was distracted.
Kason knocked on Revelle's office door, then entered before she could officially welcome him. Dark green leather and mahogany made the space elegant yet businesslike. An enormous black-and-white photograph of James River Stadium circa 1935 covered half a wall.
The picture captured a time before the luxury suites, concession stands, and press boxes. Fans had taken stairs to the upper decks, prior to the elevators and escalators. The stadium had been renovated three times since its construction. Yet it still hadn't lost the Roman Colosseum architecture favored by so many sports facilities.
All sportsmen were warriors in their own right.
Noting his arrival, Revelle half rose from behind her desk. A redhead with violet eyes and classic features, she wore rimless glasses and a tailored black power suit that left her sexless.
Her lips parted, then closed. She frowned when he threw his body into a green leather club chair and met her gaze squarely. Game on.
She nodded at him. “Kason Rhodes.”
“Revelle Sullivan.” He nodded back.
Greetings over, they stared at each other until Revelle blinked. “You're bald.”
He cracked his knuckles. “You're observant.”
“You look mean.”
“You look stressed.”
“I've a lot to do and little time to do it.” She swept her hand across her desk. Three stacks of file folders fought for space amid a computer, desk lamp, and a bouquet of lavender roses. “Sorry about the mess. My assistant quit without notice. I'm trying to regroup.”
She slipped off her glasses, forced a smile. “Know anyone looking for a job? Someone who could start tomorrow?”
Dayne immediately came to mind. She'd mentioned needing more than the part-time hours offered at Frank's Food Warehouse. He didn't, however, know her qualifications. He had no idea whether she had office or computer skills.
He also wasn't ready to tell her that he was a Rogue. So he shrugged, said, “No one at the moment.”
“If you think of someone, send her my way. Hours and pay are good and we have great company benefits. I'm also willing to train.”
She pulled a file from the middle of the pile closest to her and withdrew a blank piece of paper. “I need your Five Fun Facts for Rogues Highlights. You promised to send them in, but apparently they got lost in the mail.”
Highlights was the free fan brochure available at the stadium's main gate. It featured the ballplayers' pictures, statistics, and personal info.
“Mail can be slow.” Kason blew her off. “I'm sure the Fun Facts will arrive in a day or two.”
“Highlights goes to press tomorrow,” she said evenly. “To be on the safe side, let's do the facts now.”
“Now isn't good for me.”
He pushed forward in his chair, and she hit him with, “Go for the door, and I swear I'll tackle you.”
Lady had guts.
“Five questions, Kason, quick and painless. Fans like to identify with their favorite players. These are the people who fill the stands and pay your salary.” She poised her pen over the paper. “Favorite candy bar?”
“Butterfinger.” He spoke between clenched teeth. “Movies?”
“Blade Runner and Raiders of the Lost Arc.”
“Music?”
“Bruce Springsteen and early Bob Seger.”
“If you didn't play baseball you'd...?”
“Be an architect.”
“Quote or philosophy?”
“Play hard, as if Opening Day were October.”
Revelle peered at him over the rim of her glasses. “Single or seeing someone?”
“That's more than five questions.”
“The women on the sixth floor want to know.”
The women who'd come out of their offices to check him out. “I'm presently living with someone.”
“That will break a lot of hearts.”
He didn't think of himself as a heartbreaker. Dayne, however, did provide a good excuse. She hadn't officially moved out. If women thought him involved, a few might respect his relationship.
Revelle set the paper aside, moved on. “Promotion time, Kason Rhodes. Ever hear of Platinum?” He shook his head.
Revelle filled him in. “It's an upscale jewelry shop. Gayle de Milo is known for her designer pieces, commissioned for an elite clientele. She's recently branched out to a cosmopolitan, more moderately priced line as well. She's planning a television commercial, and she wants to feature you.”
Pimp jewelry? Not in this lifetime.
The thought was so ludicrous, Kason hit his feet. He wore a ten-year-old watch that lost five minutes over the course of a year even with a new battery. He couldn't tell the difference between fourteen-karat gold and gold plated.
He stood tall, arms crossed over his chest. “I'm not your guy.”
“Gayle believes you'd be perfect.”
“Gayle doesn't know me.”
“She's seen you play ball. You're hard faced and your intensity is staggering. Her idea for the commercial centers on romance: the bigger the man, the harder he falls when he meets the right woman.”
“Get real.”
“Gayle hopes to shoot five thirty-second commercials,” Revelle continued. “In the first—”
“No 'first,' “ he said, cutting her off. “I'm not interested.”
She narrowed her eyes, fight in her features. “It's my job to offer you the promotion. So hear me out.”
Kason admired the corporate woman. She was all business and no bullshit. Because she was Guy Powers's niece, she got one more minute. “Wrap it up.”