With a light knock on the door, a pretty blonde girl who couldn’t be more than twenty-one or twenty-two entered. She crouched in a way that the neckline of her billowy blouse exposed a nude bra. The room quieted as she rounded the table and smiled at Sebastian, but she whispered as she set a giant coffee cup in front of him. “Dunkin’delivery.”
He smiled back at her. “Thanks, June. You saved metoday.”
She winked and slunk back out of the room as the guys watched. Maybe it was the cynic Neal had awoken in me, but I couldn’t help wondering if Sebastian had slept with her or was working on it. Was anyone immune to his charms? Was I? Based on the way jealousy sparked in me—I wasn’t. He’d captured my attention this morning with practically no effort on hispart.
My cheeks warmed when I noticed only Sebastian had turned forward again, and he was scanning my face. As if reading my every thought, he raised a dark, knowing eyebrow, then reassumed his perma-scowl.
I cleared my throat, calling their attention back once June had closed the door behind her. “May Icontinue?”
A man signaled that he had a question. “Are we introuble?”
Vance opened his mouth, but I spoke first. “No,” I said, “but you’re headed forit.”
“Are you like Anthony Pellicano?” Justin asked. “You inflict pain and make things . . . goaway?”
Sebastian sat back in his seat and spoke around the end of his pen. “She doesn’t know who thatis.”
“You can think of me as Pellicano if that helps, minus the dead fish and prison sentence,” I said. Something like approval passed over Sebastian’s face, but he quickly schooled it. “But when I say ‘ease the sting,’ I mean there’ll be growing pains. Maybe an example will help. You’re all awareModern Manis one of the country’s top ten men’s interest publications, but do you have any idea how it tests withwomen?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Sebastian said. “Women aren’t ourdemographic.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” I said, then turned to Vance. “And therein lies one of your biggest problems. While I admit your publication has made great strides in the diversity arena, that only pertains to men. By ignoring the female demographic, you’re automatically excluding fifty percent of the world’spopulation.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Sebastiansaid.
“Is it? Take a look at this pie chart.” I picked up the remote and flipped the slide. “Women influence over eighty percent of consumer spending in the U.S. That’s trillions of dollars you’re leaving on the table by ignoring them. Of primary shoppers in a household, over fifty percent are women. Tell me, Mr. Quinn, who does the grocery shopping in your household—you or yourwife?”
Sebastian flexed his right hand as his eyes flicked to my chest. I wasn’t sure how, but I instinctively knew he was thinking about our pre-collision flirtation that morning. “That’s sexist,” heanswered.
“I see. So, you do the majority of shopping for you and yourwife?”
“I’m single.” He smirked. “And I test great withwomen.”
“So I’ve heard.” I gave him my most sugary smile. “Unfortunately, I’m looking for someone who can score more than onenight.”
“My wife does the shopping,” a man volunteered, and everyone turned to him. “I haven’t stepped into a supermarket since I got married, and I’m fine withthat.”
“What’s your name?” Iasked.
“Garth.”
“Thank you, Garth. That’s precisely my point. Do you know the average wait time in a grocery store checkout line? Up to five minutes.” I moved to the next slide without bothering to turn and check it. They could read. “What do grocery stores sell in the checkout aisles? Impulse buys.” I hit the button again. “Do you know how much more likely women are to impulse buy than men?” I looked out at a sea of blank faces. Only the woman nodded. “Exactly my point,” I said. “You don’t know, because you don’t know women. I do. And this is just a preview of the kind of research my agency hascompiled.”
Sebastian turned to Vance. “Are you hearing this? She’s talking about single-copy sales in the grocery store aisle, a space everyone knows isdead.”
“True, consumers are no longer bored at checkout,” I said. “They have their phones, and the team back at my office is analyzing your online presence as we speak, but don’t discount print yet. It supports digital, enhances branding, and draws in lifestyle readers with more disposableincome.”
“Anyone can Google statistics,” Sebastian said. “How do you suggest we implement all that without alienating our malereaders?”
“My agency actually conducted much of this research,” I said, reaching under the table for my purse, “so, no, it’s not available to anyone with a Wi-Fi connection. Part of what you’re paying for is my data.” I pulled an August 2017 issue ofModern Manfrom my bag and flipped to a Post-it near the middle. “Here we have a ‘dating hacks for geeks’ article authored by Garth Hurley and presumably edited bySebastian.”
Sebastian slid his tie through his hand. Its gold color only enhanced the idyllic green of his eyes, but he must’ve known that when he’d purchased it. He nodded meon.
“Your advice is that they use their brain power for ‘something useful’ such as memorizingModern Man-approved pick-up lines or choosing books from the ‘panty-dropper library’ on thewebsite.”
“That page gets a lot of hits,” pointed out a man I assumed worked inweb.
“Then, you suggest they swap their glasses for contacts—which isarchaicallystereotypical—and their Star Wars t-shirts for a tailored outfit from Saks for the firstdate.”
