He crammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Can I take your coat or get you anything before we get started?”
She removed her wrap, unveiling a low-cut silk blouse that complemented her curves nicely. “That coffee smells great. I’d love a cup.”
“Coming up.” He headed for the kitchen. “Is it okay if we work in here today?”
“Of course. I want to make this as convenient as possible. I’m willing to accommodate your schedule in any way necessary.” Kendra set her portfolio and laptop on the black, poured concrete kitchen countertop.
He grabbed two mugs from the cabinet, filled her cup, added cream and handed it to her.
Kendra thanked him and settled onto her seat, then opened her laptop and pulled two copies of a thick, bound document from her leather bag. She handed him one and opened the other. “I’d like to give you the overview of the plan Marcus and I agreed on.”
Nate thumbed through the document quickly. Neat, efficient, color-coded. Very Kendra. He dropped it onto the countertop with a thud. Leaning back in his seat, he sipped his coffee. “Shoot.”
* * *
Nate was determined to make her turn and run, just as she had seven years ago. Well, they were beyond that. She’d signed her name to a contract and walked away from her most lucrative client.
No turning back.
She’d stayed up late the past few nights working on the proposal, and Nate wouldn’t give it more than a cursory glance?
Fine.
She hadn’t expected him to give in easily. But if he was already annoyed with her treatise on how to get his career back on track, he certainly wasn’t going to like the steps she’d outlined.
Too bad.
This was what needed to happen if he wanted to get out of this predicament and land his new contract and endorsements.
Kendra met his defiant gaze. “Our campaign will focus on three strategies. First, you need to meet with each person you mentioned on that tape and apologize. Talk to them man-to-man and explain what happened—before we go public. Call anyone you can’t get a sit-down with. Then we make the public apology.”
Nate was growing more agitated by the minute. He folded his arms. “If I’m apologizing to each of them individually, what’s the purpose of a public apology?”
“You said your tight end was more concerned with his individual stats than winning a championship. That your quarterback, and long-time friend, has been dialing it in all year. You slammed your defensive players for skating on their natural talents and having poor work ethics. And you claimed your running back is three years past his expiration date. All of that is public. So your apology needs to be, too.”
“It’s not like I didn’t call myself out for my mistakes, too. Funny how they didn’t include that part.”
“I get it. That makes me believe that this Stephanie Weiss who broke the story is out to get you. This was calculated. Vindictive.”
Nate bristled at the mention of Stephanie’s name. “If they were going to leak the video, I just wish they’d shown everything.”
“Fortunately, someone leaked the full video. Probably the person who actually recorded it. At the press conference, we’ll play the missing part where you skewer your own mistakes, too. Then you’ll make a statement. We’ll go from the emotional angle of the disappointment you were feeling—with yourself and the rest of the team. Any sports fan can sympathize with that. Explain that while the critique was your honest assessment of what led to the loss, you regret the harsh words you used to express it.”
Nate’s lips puckered like he was sucking on a lemon. He nearly drained his coffee mug. “Fine. Anything else?”
“Be honest. Tell them your team is your family, and like most family disputes, this one will be resolved behind closed doors, not in the public arena.”
“Won’t they want to ask questions?”
“Doesn’t mean you have to answer them.” She shrugged. “We’ll establish from the outset that you won’t be entertaining questions.”
“That’s an idea I can get behind,” he mumbled. “What’s the second strategy?”
“We have to change the narrative out there about you on our terms. We’ll cherry-pick media outlets that are trustworthy, but we’ll lay the ground rules about which topics are off-limits.”
“If I’m not talking about the tape—which is what they’re all going to want to talk about—what am I there to discuss?”
“At this time of year, there are a million opportunities to discuss the play-off games—on radio, television, newspapers and blogs. You can offer your razor-sharp game analysis there. Plus, you’ll set yourself up for a career as an analyst once you retire.”
Nate shrugged. “I could do that, I guess.”
“And you’ll be phenomenal at it.” Kendra smiled, encouraged that Nate had taken well to at least part of the plan. “You’ll also need to talk about your philanthropy.”
He frowned, his eyebrows forming angry slashes over his dark eyes. “The Johnston Family Foundation isn’t some cheap publicity stunt. I’m not looking to blow my own horn.”
“I know, which makes the work you do all the more admirable.” She held up a hand, holding off the next wave of protest. “But just think how much more good you could do if you publicized the work you’re doing with wounded veterans and high-risk children from low-income families.”
Nate stood and paced the floor. “Our clients have been through enough. They need someone to give them a hand, not someone else who only sees them as a means to their own end. No.” He shook his head. “I won’t do it.”
Kendra inhaled deeply, then took a different approach. One Nate might better understand.
“You don’t want to take advantage of your clients. I admire that. But if we can’t repair your reputation, you won’t be in a position to help them as much as you’d like.”
He didn’t respond, but stopped pacing and rested his chin on his closed fist.
“Besides, if more companies—including your current sponsors—were aware of the programs your foundation offers and the difference you’re making in people’s lives, they’d want to contribute. That means you’ll be able to help even more people. Isn’t that what you want?”
“You know I do, but I won’t betray their trust.”
“I’d never ask you to do that.” Kendra softened her voice. “All I’m asking is that you give them the opportunity to help themselves and others. I’m sure a lot of the families your foundation has helped would be eager to participate in a goodwill campaign to spread the word and increase funding.”
Nate dropped into his seat, as if he were exhausted from a fight. “Fine. I’ll agree to some media coverage for the foundation programs, but
