Ship of Dreams (Dreams Come True Series Book 2) (2 page)

Cassie took the brochure, lifting a brow. “Is this business or pleasure?”

“Oh, this is business, but who says they’re mutually exclusive?” He gave her a wink as he rounded his desk.

The corridors of Hawk Media were hushed, the plush carpeting lending a soft touch to the otherwise glass and brushed chrome ultra-modern office space. The account executives whose offices lined the halls were hard at work, studying spreadsheets, talking on phones, tapping out emails, or meeting with members of their teams. A group stood in front of an oversized digital white board in what served as the agency’s idea space, throwing suggestions up on the board.

The nimble mid-size company had only been around a little over ten years, but they were making a splash in the ad biz, especially after they’d snatched the Kensington hotel chain right out from under Concept Advertising.

They’d done the same thing with him.

Hawk Media had wooed his biggest account away from him, but while the CEO preferred the New York-based agency’s philosophy, he’d told Hawk that Nathan was part of the package. So after almost ten years with the same boutique agency in Atlanta, first as an account coordinator, before working his way up to senior account executive, Hawk had come calling. And Nathan had listened. In the immortal words of Don Corleone, “They’d made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.”

Though it broke his heart to leave behind his Buckhead home and the proximity to his sister, the siren song of the Big Apple couldn’t be ignored, and the position, Vice President of Business Development, the salary, and the bonuses were too good to pass up. Especially now when he needed the money.

He’d make a name for himself in the big city. Not bad for a boy from the hills of North Georgia who’d once been told he’d never be more than a whore’s bastard.

First order of business—get the Imperial Cruise Lines account.

“You needed to see me?”

Hawk glanced up from his sleek computer. “Yes. Have a seat.”

At only forty-six, Hawk McCutcheon was on a high-speed trajectory to success. His blond locks lent him a devil-may-care surfer look, but those who judged the book by its cover did so at their own peril. A former All-American quarterback, he played by the rules, but that didn’t mean he didn’t play a tough game. And while he had an easy smile and a generous nature, he expected one-hundred-ten-percent from his employees.

Family photos ranged the credenza behind his immaculate Lucite desk, including one of him and his father, U.S. Senator Mitchell McCutcheon, at the President’s inauguration ball. Star-studded lifestyle notwithstanding, according to his employees, Hawk was a tried and true family man.

“Where are we on Imperial Cruise Lines?” Hawk eyed him over a pair of reading glasses.

“Cassie’s booking my trip as we speak—on the
Nave dei Sogni
—the first availability. Research team is pulling demographics, financials, and current marketing collateral, and the same information on Imperial’s three closest competitors. Word on the street is Imperial is seeking to lower its age demographic, attract younger, more dynamic clientele, with lots of sports and entertainment dollars to spend. And they’re building a smaller liner with an eye toward uncompromising quality and an even higher staff-to-guest ratio to do it.

“We already have the data on the spending habits of this demographic,” Nathan continued, “we just need to do some number crunching. Imperial is looking for interactive marketing services for the digital space. They fired Kendall-Monroe because the agency’s ideas were . . . ‘antediluvian,’ to use the Junior Jeffries’ term.

“Well, we’ll deliver fresh, innovative ideas that will blow any competition out of the water. Pun intended,” Hawk finished with a grin. His expression grew determined as he tapped the desk with his finger, “I want this account and you’re just the man to get it for me.”

Jackson’s assistant escorted Laura into a modest-sized, but well-appointed office. B
ehind the mahogany desk sat a man, that although her father’s contemporary, appeared years younger. His thick pewter and silver hair, tanned, clean-shaven face, and ready smile gave Jackson Jeffries the appearance of a well-aged movie star.

He rose as she approached his desk, his gray eyes alight with approval as he appraised her. “Little Laura Armstrong has grown into a beautiful, poised young lady. How did that happen? Last I saw you, you were headed off to college.”

She smiled at the compliment. “That was a decade ago.”

“Has it been that long?” He indicated a group of chairs around a beautifully-restored leather steamer trunk that served as a coffee table. Models of Imperial’s ships, old and new, ranged the office on their own wood pedestals, down-lighting illuminating every detail. Photos of dignitaries from around the world covered the walls.

It was a comfortable office. A well-lived-in office. Not the showplace she’d expected from the CEO of one of the world’s most prestigious ultra-luxury cruise lines. But then again, she had memories of Jackson as a kind, unassuming man. One who actually loved his wife and children and didn’t put the importance of the bottom line ahead of his family.

“And now you’re with an advertising agency, and you’d like to talk to me about Imperial’s business.” He leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees.

“Yes.” Despite his humble demeanor, he always could cut to the chase.

“All right. I’m game. Tell me about your agency.”

Before she could start her pitch, the office door opened and a tall, good-looking younger version of Jackson entered the room. Same thick hair, but light brown with hints of pre-mature gray at the temples, same gray eyes, same ready smile. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree.

She remembered Jackson Junior, or Jack, from dinners at the country club, golf outings, parties at her parents’ house, and high school. She’d tried her sixteen-year-old girl’s wiles on him. Four years older, he hadn’t been impressed, having eyes only for Miss New York and his girlfriend at the time, Stephanie Smallwood. They’d married after college, only to get divorced five years later.

“Jack, you remember Milt’s daughter, Laura.”

“Yes.” His eyes lit up. “Of course.”

“Laura was about to tell me a little about her agency–”

“Giddings-Rose,” she supplied.

“Giddings-Rose?” Jack interjected. “Laura, I should tell you, we aren’t looking for a traditional Madison Avenue agency. We already fired Kendall-Moore. We want to move into the digital age, freshen our brand and broaden our consumer base, with a focus on a younger demographic.”

“You’re speaking my language,” Laura said with a grin.

Jackson beamed at his son. “Jack is our Vice President of Customer Relations and he’s been pushing for Imperial to enter the age of social media.” He chuckled. “What I know about social media could fit in a thimble.”

Laura jumped in with both feet. “Imperial has catered to the older wealthy client, but with that clientele dying off, the line needs to refocus its brand on a younger demographic, people my age, with copious amounts of discretionary income.”

Jackson Senior and Junior eyed one another.

Jackson spoke first. “We had that in mind when we designed the newest ship—”

“The
Nave dei Sogni
,” Laura interjected.

“That’s right,” Jackson said, “and its itineraries, shore excursions and onboard activities, but we haven’t been able to reach that client. Now we’re building a new, smaller four-hundred-fifty passenger liner—the ultimate boutique ship—”

Jack interrupted, “—which will offer unstructured cruises that give passengers the feel that they are truly on a personal yacht. This won’t be your grandparents’ cruise. Most passengers on the
Sogni
have been our usual clientele, perplexed by the offerings. The only people your age we get on the ship are there because it’s their parents’ or grandparents’ anniversary or birthday.”

“Forget what you think you know about Giddings-Rose,” Laura started her pitch. “We have the finest creative team in the business, with two Webbys, five ADDYs, one Mosaic, and fifty years of experience combined, the media buying power of the large agency we are, but with the digital savvy of an interactive agency. We give you the best of both worlds. Strategic planning, web design and development, search engine marketing, digital lead generation, digital brand development, rich media campaigns, interactive marketing and communications strategy, data mining, and ROI assessment.” She took a breath.

“You don’t have a cruise line in your client roster,” Jack pointed out.

“No, we don’t, but we do have an international airline and a five-star hotel chain on our books, plus one of the world’s top travel companies, so we have experience in the high-end travel and hospitality industry.”

Jackson glanced at his son and nodded. “Okay. We’ll give Giddings-Rose a shot.”

“But your initial research and creative is on spec,” Jack added. “We’ll expect your pitch the end of July, but we’ll have a pre-pitch meeting with both agencies before that. We’ll be in touch to set that up.”

Laura stuck her hand out to Jackson. “Thank you.”

“It’s a pleasure to see you again.” Jackson covered their clasped hands with his other hand. “You truly have grown into a beautiful woman.”

“Thank you, Jackson.”

“I’ll walk you out.” Jack guided Laura through the door. “How did we not know you worked for an ad agency?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Have you met my father?”

Jack laughed. “Right. Then how did you find out we were looking?”

“My father blurted it out, forgetting his daughter was in the business.” If he even knew in the first place.

“Maybe that’s a good thing. A little competition never hurt anyone, and Imperial can only benefit.”

They’d arrived at the elevators. “My father was right,” Jack said, his face earnest.

“About what?” Laura turned to face him.

“That you’ve grown into a beautiful woman.”

Alrighty then.
“Flattery will get you everywhere, Jack, but I think I’m the one who should be sucking up to you.”

“Then you can start sucking up by having dinner with me.”

She tilted her head as the elevator dinged. “Perhaps.” She stepped into the elevator and turned around. Just before the doors closed, she said, “Call me.”

Chapter 2

Later that same day, Nathan sat at the head of the conference room table surrounded by representatives from the various departments. Imperial wasn’t the only account on his plate.

Hawk Media began as an interactive agency, but over the last five years had grown into a more agile version of a full-service agency, complete with creative and production departments, strategic market planning, and media buying. But digital and social media still remained at the core of Hawk’s services.

Today’s meeting involved a tech giant ready to roll out its latest technology in just eight months, which put Hawk Media under the gun to plan and implement the campaign for its launch two months earlier in order to stimulate anticipation in their users and users-to-be.

An existing account, the agency had gigabytes of analytics on the company, so it was a matter of defining the message, creating the collateral and the print and digital ads, and buying the media.

Nathan needed to get his head in the game, but his mind kept drifting to that morning’s sidewalk encounter. Who was she? What did she do? Where did she live? Was she single? Married? Maybe she was a lesbian. He frowned at either possibility.

“Nathan? Did you have an issue with the latest timeline?”

He glanced up to see Pramod standing in front of the digital white board, a perplexed look on his face. “Hmm? Oh. No. It’s fine, why?”

“You had a frown on your face.”

Chagrin washed over him. “Oh. It’s nothing. Sorry. Please continue.”

“Right.”

Get it together, Nathan. Hawk Media didn’t hire you to daydream about women.
Well, not women, but one woman in particular. One woman who’d left a definite impression after such a brief encounter.

“Talk to
me,” Laura said as soon as Katie answered the phone.

“First, how’d it go?”

“I wouldn’t be asking for numbers if I didn’t need them.”

“Hot damn.”

“And I think I might have a date with Jackson Junior.”

“No shit?” Katie laughed. “I so want to be you.”

“So, talk numbers to me, baby.” Laura dodged harried pedestrians, as she listened to Katie’s rundown on Imperial Cruise Lines.

“The average income of the cruise line’s customers is five hundred K. Average age is between forty-five and sixty-five, so you’re about fifteen years early to the party, which is good, since word is that’s the demographic they’re looking to entice.”

“That’s what Jackson said. Perfect,” Laura interjected.

“I’ve been poking around on their website, and boy, Imperial doesn’t pull any punches when it comes to pampering its guests with all-suite, all-veranda staterooms, five-star dining, a spa that puts Guerlain to shame—not that I’ve been there mind you, but I’ve drooled over pictures—staterooms that offer elegant furnishings, Bang & Olufson sound systems, fresh flowers daily, and Egyptian cotton linens. But they really need to update to responsive formatting for their website.”

Laura flipped through the rather pedestrian, traditional brochure she’d picked up, as she walked along East Seventy-Sixth Street toward her office building. Ignoring the need for updated collateral, she skimmed the contents. She knew Imperial catered to those with discerning tastes and the money to appease those tastes, but she didn’t expect to be so . . . wowed by the line’s luxurious offerings. After all, she’d stayed in her fair share of five-star hotels and resorts around the world.

Turning down Madison Avenue, she told herself to look away from the Louboutin store window.
Since when did I ever do what I was told?

“Holy crap! You should see this penthouse stateroom,” Katie continued. “The bathroom is bigger than my apartment. The ship is like a floating Four Seasons. No, it’s like a floating Four Seasons on crack.”

At Laura’s silence, Katie prodded, “Are you listening to me, or are you standing in front of the Louboutin window drooling?”