Page 7 of Steel

She squeezed my arm. “Oh no. You’ll think of something. Who knows. Maybe this campaign will change everything.”

All I could do was burst into laughter. “Right. I doubt that. Come on. You’re not getting out of this.”

Her chuckle wasn’t comforting. We headed into the group room where I tried to be hopeful that something good could come out of the wretched day.

“We have a list of possibilities,” Greg proudly announced while holding up a notebook.

“Then let’s have it. I need some good news.” I slipped into a chair, preferring them to a bouncy ball that my previous counterpart had insisted everyone use when in the room.

Greg was more than happy to bounce up and down while reading off a list of possibilities. While a few of the professions weredecent, including the local ice hockey team, the proof was in the pudding of what the players looked like.

“Do we have art?” I tossed out when he was done.

Sheila pulled up the coordinating photographs, which had been blown up and was showing on one of the large screens. I sat back, uncertain what to say. Everyone else was also quiet. “Do you mean to tell me that there isn’t a single hockey player on the Los Angeles Cougars who is even remotely decent looking?”

“That guy right there isn’t bad,” Debbie insisted.

I turned my head very slowly, certain she was kidding. “Now, I admit that I don’t know much about hockey, but given he’s sitting on that huge machine, I think he might be the ice sweeper or whatever they call him.”

“The Zamboni driver,” Wayne tossed out. “She’s right.”

I dropped my head, which was now pounding just behind my temple. “Let’s roll through the other ideas.”

After twenty minutes of looking at what they came up with, I was now one hundred percent convinced there wasn’t a decent man anywhere in or close to California. Not one.

“I don’t mean to burst your bubbles, but…” My words dropped off because I honestly had no idea what to say and it was closing in on three in the afternoon. Four hours until disaster.

“They all suck.” At least Mark made the statement with utter confidence.

“They all suck. So…” I continued, trying very hard not to rip every strand of hair from my head. “Spit out more. Random ideas. Whatever comes into your minds.”

While they were slow in starting, more and more ideas were thrown into the gauntlet.

Meanwhile, Brenda was actively searching on her laptop, staying out of the fray. I didn’t blame her in the least.

By the time the crew finished, I was exhausted. “The rodeo doesn’t sound too bad.” At least I could admit one decent idea. Especially since Debbie had tossed out waste disposal men. Garbage men. I couldn’t get past the idea of the stench.

“What about smokejumpers who just happened to be involved in a rodeo event for charity?”

I glanced at Brenda to see if she was serious. “Is that for real?”

“Yep. Very real and you see the photographs from the event and from some marketing promo they did for trying to hire new firefighting dudes.” Brenda was more excited than I’d seen her in a long time.

“Then by all means. Let’s see them.”

We all crowded around the laptop as she scrolled through several pictures. I had to admit the men were hot. All perfect representations of the male species.

“From what I can tell, there are six contenders minimum, but look at this guy. He is the cover shot. Right there.” The moment she flipped to another screen, even the guys whistled.

Leaning forward, I read the name and chuckled. “Steel Beckett. That can’t be his real name.”

“Who cares? A man of rock-hard steel. Imagine what we could do with the promos. I mean, whoa, baby.”

Debbie was right about this. He was wearing jeans and leather chaps and it appeared he’d just ripped off his shirt when the photographer snapped the photo. To say the man was hot as Hades was an understatement. While my eyes were drawn to his perfectly chiseled six-pack abs, so perfectly formed I longed to run my fingers over every indentation, the chaps accentuated the rest of his carved package.

And exactly what God had given him in the manhood department. The bulge between his legs was… mouthwatering. While I should be ashamed by my reaction, I couldn’t help myself. His body was bronzed from being in the sun and his hair a wild mess, completely tousled as if from spending hours in bed.

My very active imagination managed to get the best of me. For a few seconds, I envisioned him under a sheet, staring up at me with his sensual eyes.