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Her pause is full of promise.
“How are we going to do that?” I’m already using ‘we’ for this project, knowing that Jayme has a brilliant idea in that gorgeous head of hers. It’s a bold change from my attitude only twenty-four hours ago where marketing was my baby and no one could touch it or tell me anything.
“An influencer extravaganza.” She swipes her hands through the air, looking vacantly into thin air. “This will be a branched initiative. First, we need to invite a few select influencers for sponsored trips. In exchange, they’ll post content on their feeds highlighting Americana Land. And best of all” —she claps her hands, excited as she finishes— “a summer concert series.”
I want to be over the moon with her idea. I really do. Especially given how happy she seems, but as she looks at me expectantly, what comes out of my mouth is, “We already do that every year.”
That’s the truth, and I’m honestly a little surprised that she doesn’t know that. Her research has been impeccable, maybe even too much so in some areas, so how did she miss that we do a multi-show series every summer? The headliners are usually bands from decades past trying to make a little cash by singing classics to the gray-haired set, but they’re always sold out.
Jayme rolls her eyes at my confusion and laughingly pushes at my shoulder as though I said something funny. “Not the boy band redux concerts. Aren’t you listening? A series directed at the social media generation.”
Nope, I’m not listening now. Not when I’m distracted by her touch, however fleeting. I want to take her hand and press it to my shoulder again, move it to my chest and down my abs to my cock.
“Carson?”
My name on her lips rouses me from my fantasy. “So . . . uh, another concert series?” I sound like an idiot, but my brain is not receiving the majority of the blood flow in my body at the moment so I’m lucky I can form actual words and not just make gibberish sounds. I fight adjusting myself in my slacks, but do shift in my chair a bit to make room. Thankfully, Jayme doesn’t notice.
“Yes. We’ll contact Spotify, TikTok, and Instagram artists—DJs, bands, indie singers—and have them perform. Again, using their followings as market targets, and live streaming the shows on various platforms to emphasize the brand recognition. We’ll finish the season with a big show. I don’t know who yet, but we’ll get someone right on the cusp of making the jump to mainstream and make it an interactive set, with the live stream moderated by someone doing engagement activities like prize giveaways and Americana Land trivia.”
That is different from what we typically do. Very different, but interesting. My brain’s already going a million miles per minute, in a hundred different directions as I work out the logistics of putting Jayme’s idea into play.
When I’m silent for too long, she asks, “What do you think?”
“I like it,” I tell her honestly. “It’s going to be a lot of work, but we already have an on-staff production team that does planning and set-ups, the graphics department can get on flyers, and the IT crew can source a small group to do the livestream prep and management. Our biggest issue is going to be the timing. We’ve got a lot on the calendar, so putting these concerts around the other ones, our shows and parades, and the annual charity event, will be no easy feat.”
I go quiet as I think about everything we’ll need to tackle because this will be no small undertaking if we do it right. A campaign like this will affect every department from the on-the-ground teams to administration, but it’ll be worth it if it works.
Jayme snaps her fingers in front of my eyes, which are seeing a to-do list instead of her beaming smile. “Guess that means you approve?”
When I focus on her once more, I find her fighting back laughter as she watches my brain work. “I approve,” I growl, though I’m covering laughter of my own. “As long as you’re promising to work with me, side by side, through all the late nights.”
Every bit of that sounds as though I’m proposing sex, sex, and more sex. She said we needed to stay professional, and I can do that, but a project of this scale in this timeframe is going to require a lot of close work, and flirting with danger sounds right up my alley.
And make no mistake, Jayme Rice is danger in a stunningly sexy package.
“I think I can fit you into my busy schedule,” she teases, looking up at me through her long lashes, unsuccessfully fighting back a small smile.
“Then let’s do it.”
CHAPTER 6
CARSON
I should have left hours ago. Jayme did, after a long day of working together to brainstorm ways to make this new campaign come to life. I wonder what she’s doing now? Is she curled up on her couch in comfy pajamas or getting dressed up for a night on the town again?
