William never thought the day would come that he would see his younger brother Sam boasting a tan. Eddie had always been the outdoorsman of the three of them, but even William managed to see enough sun to give himself some healthy color. In the past, Sam had always appeared as icy on the outside as his personality and business dealings were within. He never used to leave the office if he could help it, and his skin had been an almost vampiric white.

Such was not the case now. Now that he was back with Trinity, Sam had thawed—and the couples' time together working in Australia had outwardly tanned them beyond recognition. If William found the look jarring on his brother, it certainly benefited Trinity; she positively glowed, from within and without.

"Wow. So you're really taking this individual pitch personally, huh?" she asked him now.

The three of them were holding an impromptu meeting over instant coffee in one of the Jameson boardrooms. William had briefed the two of them on his presentation to the publishing house; he had hoped to breeze past it as just another business update, but Trinity's sudden laser-focus was making it difficult for him to move onto other topics.

"It's unlike you," Sam noted. As if Sam was in any position to point out other people not acting like themselves these days. William fixed him with a critical look, but his brother seemed unfazed. At least that much hadn't changed.

"You're not usually so hands-on," Trinity continued. "What's so different about this one, William? You're the CEO. Why don't you just delegate?"

Why don't you just delegate? "Because Poppy Hanniford didn't delegate," William said. True, she may have given one of her underlings a chance to flex their design ideas in the first round—a mistake that should have cost her the running—but she had shown up, and taken personal responsibility for the product her agency put out. Not only that, she had highlighted her own weakness quite winningly. Even William couldn't deny how endearing, how appealing, her bald-faced sincerity had come across. It was unlike anything he had ever encountered in the business, and he had spent most of his life learning the negotiation techniques and counter-attacks required to send his rivals packing.

No, this prospective client required a personal touch. His personal touch. It was time for Poppy Hanniford to see firsthand just how formidable he was.

"I prefer that a Jameson represent Jameson Agency in this case," William continued. "And with the two of you in Australia and Eddie on paternity leave, that leaves only me."

"Seems like you're on the fast track to winning the contract with your one-man show," Trinity observed. "Or at least you were on-track—until you let Poppy Hanniford get under your skin."

William opened his mouth to argue. He wasn't a man who normally allowed himself to get into conversations where he had to play defense. At the last minute, he caught the sly look in Trinity's eye, and clamped his mouth closed. Any protest he could form—and he could think of a hundred different ones he might throw her way—would only confirm…whatever it was that she was thinking.

"You spin narratives as expertly as the authors I'm tasked with wrangling," William said.

"Don't you mean the authors you and Poppy are tasked with wrangling?" Trinity smirked.

Sam glanced between them. He crossed his arms. He was less quick picking up on the undercurrent of the conversation, but now looked as if he had noticed enough to come along for the ride.

"There's no way Jameson is going to lose this client to Wildflower," William said confidently. "The right track you perceived us following before is the same one we're on now."

"Jameson Agency has always been a family business," Trinity said. She sat back, tapping her pen, and dropped a glance in Sam's direction. "…but it's only recently that you guys really started to come together and show the world—and yourselves—that the best way to succeed is to put family first. You've finally made your interpersonal relationships the focus, and the business has only profited from it. I'm just afraid of seeing all your hard work fall by the wayside if you choose to make this your number one priority. You've already cancelled meetings with Eddie multiple times these past few weeks. He'd never admit it, but he was really looking forward to spending time with you. I just don't want to see you put your family second again."

"You're wrong," William said dismissively. "I appreciate your take as always, Trinity, but putting the business first is putting family first. It's a family business, as the name implies."

"But that doesn't mean there has to be a patriarch!" Trinity said in exasperation. "You don't have to rule everything with an iron fist, William!"

"Trinity." Sam's voice took a tone of warning, but William put his hand up.

"Please, Samson. Let her finish. I meant it when I said I value her unfiltered input."

"It's just…" Trinity glanced between the two of them, her determined expression folding into concern, "…all three of you brothers work so well together. As a team. I'm afraid all the emphasis on taking down Wildflower sounds more like a personal vendetta, William. That's all."

"I will take that into consideration," he promised. "Now Sam, if you'd excuse us…there is something I'd like Trinity to look over for me."

"I owe Eddie a phone call, anyway," Sam said as he rose. "I'll be sure to send him your love."

William waved him off. He was already deep in contemplation concerning the next order of business. Trinity rose to come around to his side of the table and examine the documents he spread before him.

"Is this your business plan for the romance convention?" she asked curiously. William nodded, taking a step back to grant her full access to his outline. "Wow. You've really thought of everything, haven't you?"

"Exercising that iron fist," he agreed. "I know you've been highly successful in the past running many of our all-female production groups out of L.A. I just wanted your opinion on my plan before I push forward."

"My opinion?" Trinity turned to him, and William guessed what was coming. Thankfully, he hadn't gotten this far by throwing up walls every time he was faced with outside criticism. "Your 'iron fist' is what's going to get you into trouble. Not just with running the business, and running the family—which you claim to be one and the same—but with this project. In my experience, female-dominated companies don't respond well to the 'man in charge' angle. Even the ones who make a fortune publishing BDSM," Trinity said as an afterthought to herself.

"But I am the man in charge," William pointed out. "By inviting me to continue with them, they've effectively put me in charge. It's what they're paying for, Trinity."

Trinity shook her head. "They're paying for your unique perspective,…but what none of those women will find unique is some alpha male New York CEO trying to tell them what's best for them. And anyway, need I remind you, you're not the one in charge. Even if the two of you are locked in competition for the contract, you still agreed to share responsibilities with Poppy Hanniford. You think she's going to let you walk all over her?"

She might. William doubted if Trinity had ever met Poppy in person, much less found herself on the end of the other woman's cheerleading. It was an exercise in self-defeat… but then why did he always wind up losing to her?

He couldn't get her out of his head. Trinity was right: Poppy Hanniford was in his mind and under his skin. Maybe that was exactly what the woman had intended all along…maybe she played the game by a set of rules that even William, in all his years as an ad exec, hadn't had the chance to learn. Not yet, anyway.

But he would learn. He would watch Poppy like a hawk. He would let his eyes linger on her curves; her lush mouth; her scented sweep of hair. He would let her know in the space of a disinterested glance just how disinterested he was in her win-by-losing tactic—regardless of the fact that he couldn't figure out how she had even managed it in the first place. By every law he and the rest of the sensible world subscribed to, a person shouldn't tie in any competition by throwing the game. He would get to the bottom of her act and expose it for what he was certain it was: a new spin on an old tactic. He just didn't know which tactic yet.

But he intended to find out.

"William? Are you sure you're all right?" Trinity was looking at him. The wryly amused expression she had worn for most of their meeting gave way to one of thoughtful concern.

William leaned against the table and took a bland sip of his coffee. "Of course. Never better. Why do you ask?"

Trinity just shook her head. "You know, for a brother-in-law who professes to weigh everything I tell him, you really don't like it when I tell you you're making a mistake."

"Am I making a mistake?" The word may as well have existed in a foreign language for all the times it had been relevant to his life. William set his Styrofoam cup down and straightened his tie. "What I think I'm making is a play to win."

"The agency wins all the time" Trinity pointed out. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you just want to see Wildflower Agency lose."

I want to see Poppy Hanniford lose, William thought.

He didn't know why, but making the unflappable blonde writhe was foremost on his mind.