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“Don’t tease me, sweetheart.” He raised a brow just as the doors opened, and he motioned for me to step off first.
I wore my favorite black pencil skirt, a white blouse, and a black suit coat. My hair was pulled into a neat chignon, and I’d changed shoes three times because I wanted everything to be perfect. I’d settled on nude stilettos. I wanted this so badly I could taste it.
I didn’t know why they’d asked Lincoln to come. I didn’t want to make it a big deal because he’d seemed uncomfortable when I’d told him. But I had written a story about him, and they wanted it. That was part of the deal. I’d never worked with a magazine of this caliber, so as far as I knew, this could be perfectly standard to bring a client along.
“You must be Brinkley Reynolds.” The receptionist was in her mid-thirties, tall with blonde hair, and she had a friendly smile. Her eyes moved to the handsome man beside me. “And you’re Lincoln Hendrix. I’m a huge fan.”
I chuckled when Lincoln scowled before quickly forcing a smile. He didn’t want the attention to be on himself today because he knew how much this day meant to me. The woman led us down a hallway and knocked on the door before we stepped into a large conference room.
There were three men in suits who came around the table and approached Lincoln first. They all shook his hand and stood there gaping at him. I sensed his discomfort immediately. I shook it off. They ran a sports magazine, and he was an icon on the field. It was fair that they were excited to meet him.
I wasn’t going to let anything ruin this day.
“This is the star of the show, Brinkley Reynolds,” he said, holding his hand out to me.
They shifted their attention my way and made introductions. Lou Colson was the president and the man I’d been negotiating with. Darrel Fisher was their chief legal, and Steve Monty was the managing editor. We settled around the big table with all three men on one side and Lincoln and me on another.
“The story you wrote was one of the best I’ve read in a very long time,” Lou said, and my heart raced. He was a very powerful man in the industry, so a compliment from him was as good as it gets in my world.
“Thank you. That means so much to me,” I said, trying to keep my tone even as the nerves were setting in.
You’ve got this. Shake it off.
Lincoln glanced at me, and I saw the pride there.
“And finally allowing fans to get to know a little more about you, Lincoln, is going to have the magazine selling off the racks.” He turned his attention to my boyfriend. “Obviously, you know we want this story and any future stories that you’re willing to let Ms. Reynolds write about you.”
Future stories?We had never discussed any articles with Lincoln in the future.
Lincoln squared his shoulders. “This is the story. She’ll be moving on to other athletes, I presume.”
I could feel the tension radiating from him, and it was time to speak up. This was an interview, and I needed to sell myself.
“I wrote the article on Breen Lockhart that I forwarded to you, as well, and I’m open to any interviews that you would want to set up for me. I’m also open to getting out in the field and covering games and meeting athletes.” I paused and sucked in a breath because I desperately wanted to prove that I could do this job. “I’ve wanted to work for this magazine for as long as I can remember. I’ll do whatever it takes to be the best at my craft. I promise I won’t let you down.”
Lincoln’s hand found my thigh beneath the table, and I knew he was trying to comfort me.
“That’s great to hear, Bailey,” Lou said. “We’re interested in what Mr. Hendrix is willing to do beyond this current story that you’ve written. Maybe he’d agree to give you an exclusive interview once or twice a season?”
What the hell? Did he really just call me by the wrong name?
“Her name is Brinkley, not Bailey,” Lincoln hissed, and I knew that he was pissed off with the direction this was going. I needed to turn this around.
“Right. Please forgive me,” he said. “We’d be willing to buy whatever articlesBrinkleywrites about you moving forward, and we can look into a permanent position down the road.”
Why were they only talking to him? This was my interview. My hands fisted on the table, digging my nails into my palms to remind myself to keep it together.
“I thought you were interviewing me for a full-time position today? That’s what we spoke about on the phone and in our emails,” I said, raising a brow as I looked Lou Colson right in the eyes.
“Correct. It’s a conversation that we’re starting, pending what Mr. Hendrix has planned regarding future articles with you.”
“Come on, gentlemen, what exactly are we here for? Let’s shoot it straight because, at this point, you’ve wasted her fucking time and mine.”
“Lincoln,” I said under my breath as I met his gaze. “I’ve got this.”
Because we both knew what we were here for now.
They were using me to get to him.
