Calculated Risk by Elaine Raco Chase Page B

surprise
and pleasure at his demand. “Well, the music industry could be
compared to the stock market,” she explained. “Sometimes bullish,
sometimes bearish. Right now, it’s hurting financially. Recording
companies are axing artists and employees by the dozen, and the
pirating problem has plundered sales. We always seem to have
industry meetings about it but --.
    “Consumers have tightened their purse
strings, and impulse buying is less frequent despite instant
downloads. Even video game sales that had given us a boost are
stagnant. I’ve been aggressively exploiting music videos for my
clients and, of course, radio and concert tours.”
    Stevie warmed to her subject with
natural enthusiasm. “It’s quite a challenge, Quint, to develop an
artist and work on his performance image. We book as many TV
appearances as we can, set up the tours, create promotional videos
and make sure the artists, especially the younger ones, know what
to say and when to say it.”
    His eyes held even more respect. “You
certainly have more than the usual business responsibilities. How
do you manage?”
    “In the beginning, I felt totally
disoriented and terrified,” came her ready admission. “When my
father retired and I took over, the obstacles – both personal and
professional – kept mounting. But I was determined not to give up,
so I kept swinging.” Her lips curved in an easy smile. “Slowly the
outlook began to improve. Clients and employees began to trust my
judgment and decisions. Those who couldn’t or wouldn’t were
replaced by those who could. And now Brandt Associates is sailing
on calmer waters and –“
    “What’s the matter?” Quintin asked.
“Why did you stop?”
    Her flustered tone echoed her agitated
demeanor. “Because I’m supposed to be encouraging you to talk about
yourself and your career, not vice versa.”
    He blinked in confusion and then
laughed. “Is this carved in stone somewhere?”
    She deliberated for a moment and
nodded. “Yes, I think it is. At least that’s what my mother told
me,” Stevie added demurely.
    “Don’t believe it,” he admonished, not
trying to hide his amusement. “I find you more than interesting.”
His voice deepened. “I find you fascinating.”
    The tea arrived. Stevie poured the
pungent liquid into handle-less cups and thought about his
compliment. She was becoming more and more self-conscious, and when
she spilled some of the steaming brew on the pristine white cloth,
that feeling escalated. “I make a terrible geisha,” she babbled,
using her napkin to blot the stain. “I also can’t dance or play the
lute and I’m banned from singing in three states.”
    “But a geisha’s main art is to please a
man,” he countered, his long fingers curling around the fragile
teacup.
    “How very chauvinistic, Mr. Ward,” came
her silken drawl. “Don’t you think a man should learn to please a
woman?”
    Quintin’s black pupils eclipsed their
brown irises. “I think the perfect solution is for each to please
the other and, in doing so, discover even greater pleasures for
themselves.”
    “Confucius couldn’t have said it
better.”
    “Wisdom comes with age, and I’m just
now discovering who gives me pleasure.”
    Her lashes fluttered like black
lacewings. “And who does?”
    “Stephanie Brandt.”
    “Why?”
    “Because you know yourself. You listen
to the input of others but ultimately make your own decisions. You
don’t fulfill a role, you create it. I feel as if I’ve come home
whenever I’m with you, and …” He paused for a moment, waiting to
gauge her reaction. “…I love the idea of waking up next to
you.”
    The sincerity of his declaration robbed
her of coherent thought. He was saying all the words she had been
praying to hear, and still she felt the need to proceed with
teasing caution. “You’re just as precocious as your son.” The
moment Stevie mentioned Rob, she saw him undergo a change. Her hand
quickly captured his. “I’m