“Mr. Fontaine, welcome to McDunn and Early. So nice to see you again.” Alyssa held her hand out in greeting. He stepped off the elevator and before he could handshake, she slid her arm through his elbow. The sudden contact caused a shiver to pulse through him.
She didn’t seem to notice. “We’re all set up in the conference room. I’ve asked Mr. McDunn and Mr. Early to attend, as well as my mentor, Tony White. You remember Tony?”
“Yes.” His head was spinning a little from the closeness of her. And that perfume she was wearing. What was that scent, anyway? It made him want to draw her closer and bury his nose in the spot where her hair fell over the back of her ear.
They walked together down a narrow hallway. In fact, it was so narrow that walking tandem as they were, she bumped her shoulder against the wall. She looked at him with good humor and chuckled. Necessity caused her to drop his arm and move in front of him. He regretted the loss of her arm on his as soon as she released him.
Now she walked in front of him down the long hallway, turning to look over her shoulder to talk, causing an additional unwanted observation: how world-class great her tight rear end looked in her navy slacks. My God, what was wrong with him? He couldn’t remember a single time he’d ever felt this out of control around anyone.
“Here we are.” They entered the room. “There are refreshments in this corner, and I’ve placed you here, Mr. Fontaine.”
“It’s Grant, by the way.”
“Sure.” She blushed a little and the color made her complexion gleam. “Help yourself to whatever you’d like. We’ll start in just a moment.”
She turned her back to him and went to her spot at the table. Unable to help himself, he watched her, his eyes lingering on the swing of her hips as she moved, the curve of her breast, practically hidden by her jacket, as she bent at the waist to pick up a folder from the table. A rush of heat hit his face and he felt an unbidden hardening in his groin. He tore his eyes away from her and shook his head. He turned to the refreshment station and gave himself a firm internal talking to.
Enough was enough. He’d gone years without an attraction to any woman – what was it about this particular one that had aroused his primal impulses, long buried?
But this woman – getting involved with her would be disastrous. He needed to stay in control around Caroline’s mother. She had to see him as a safe, non-threatening guy, someone to trust. A friend she could open up to and share her life with.
Grant took a deep breath and reached for a bagel. He took a bite he wasn’t hungry for and concentrated on slowing his racing heart. Falling for Alyssa would kill the new mission.
Forty minutes later, Grant sat between the two agency partners while Alyssa wrapped up her presentation. She’d covered her advertising ideas in all the venues they’d agreed to. The amount of samples she’d generated in two short weeks was staggering. Alyssa was damn good at her job. He knew he’d encountered the best advertising exec in the city. Friedman, Inc would have to step it up a notch or two to keep up.
Alyssa finished her presentation and looked directly at Grant. “Now, what questions do you have?”
Grant sat back in his chair and brought his folded hands to his lips. “I have no questions.”
The partners in the room, Daniel McDunn and old Ambrose Early hastened to console him. “This is just a proposal, Mr. Fontaine. Anything here can be enhanced or customized as you see fit,” the younger partner, McDunn said.
Ancient Early chimed in, “Of course we’d provide you with whatever Account Executive you need. If you’re concerned with Ms. Stark’s inexperience, we can team her up with …”
“Hold on. Why would I be concerned with Ms. Stark?” Grant glared at the partner with menace on his face.
Ambrose drew an asthmatic breath and proceeded with caution. “I’m not suggesting you should be. I’m just saying that if Ms. Stark’s short tenure with our firm concerns you, we’ll pair her up with an experienced Account Executive such as Mr. White. Our goal is to meet your needs. Exceed them, in fact.”
Grant made a conscious effort to tamp down the anger that was stoking in his chest. Had this old man paid any attention over the last forty five minutes? Did he have any idea how talented this young woman was and how lucky his firm was to have snatched her up?
“Mr. Early, I assure you I am highly impressed with her. Every idea she gave me was dead-on. She identified gaps I didn’t even know I had. And with her focus on the Young Adult market, we’ll open up our demographics even more. I wouldn’t be surprised if Calibrite took over the market share in six months.”
He heard a gasp and looked over at Alyssa. She was staring at him, her eyes wide, her cheeks flushed. He would’ve concentrated on how attractive the color made her face had the old man not responded.
“Well, of course! We hire only the best in the industry. If you are comfortable with Ms. Stark as your Account Executive, then she will be yours.” He cleared some huskiness out of his throat, sank into his chair and lowered his head.
Grant snuck a glance at Alyssa and locked gazes with her. Before he could stop himself he winked.
She gave him an amused smile before she took control of the meeting again. “Thank you for your confidence in us. What are our next steps?”
Friedman would have his head if he didn’t allow them their counter-proposal. “Could I take these materials with me to review? I’d like to give my existing ad agency the chance to present any new ideas they want to counter.”
Alyssa nodded. “Absolutely.” She pulled out a sheet of paper. “I’ve prepared a temporary protection clause. With your signature, you agree that all the ideas are the property of McDunn and Early, protected as if by official copyright. Although you can share the ideas, Friedman is prohibited by law to use them.”
Grant whipped out his pen and signed the paper. “Very wise, Alyssa.” He handed the sheet back to her and couldn’t help inhaling her aroma as he stood and closed the distance between them. God, she smelled good. “I will meet with Friedman and be back in touch with you in a few days.”
Her face beamed in a delighted smile. “I’ll be waiting for your call.”
The memory of that smile served as his beacon through several moments of hand-shaking and hob-knobbing with the two partners. While he was surrounded by Misters Early and McDunn, he kept his eyes on Alyssa’s movement. She strolled over to Tony White, her beaming smile still in place. Her colleague gave her a high five and pulled her into a brief hug. Grant’s imagination ignited for a moment. Were the two of them already engaged in an office love affair so soon after Alyssa’s arrival in New York?
And if the answer was yes, exactly how would he feel about that?
The partners’ jubilant comments washed over him, and he shook hands and nodded. He was probably even smiling, yet he wasn’t listening.
Alyssa’s mentor had every right to congratulate her. He felt a glimmer of gladness that she had someone at work to share her successes with, but another emotion battled for a more prominent position. Jealousy? Would he be jealous if Alyssa had found herself a man?
Or, maybe protectiveness was all it was. Not for Alyssa’s sake, but Caroline’s. Yeah, right. He and Alyssa are to be friends only, not lovers. Her love life was none of his business.
He cleared his throat. “I’ll be in touch, Alyssa.”
She looked up from her conversation. “Thank you, Mr. Fontaine. If there’s anything I can do for you in the meantime, don’t hesitate to call.”
He waved and the two partners escorted him out the door amidst a verbal flurry of promises. “Grant,” he mumbled under his breath. “Call me Grant.”
Chapter Six
A week later, Miranda brought in a stack of mail and laid it on Grant’s desk. “Would you like more coffee?”
He glared at the screen, absorbed in a distributor’s complaint he’d received over email. Why couldn’t people just do their damn jobs? Why did he have to involve himself in all this touchy-feely crap
as President of the company?
“Mr. Fontaine?”
He sighed and pushed his laptop a couple inches away. He tore his gaze from the screen to his secretary’s face. “I’m sorry, Miranda. No more coffee. How about a bottle of water?”
She nodded. “Coming right up.” She turned to leave, then pointed. “I left your mail there.”
Grant picked up the short stack. With 99% of correspondence coming electronically now, his good old US Postal Service mail was lean these days. With Miranda purging out the useless marketing and donation requests that he didn’t need to see, he was only left with the important stuff. He took out his brass letter opener – a gift from Maurice on an anniversary year – and opened a square white envelope made of heavy paper. He pulled out a high-quality card stock. Before he even read the calligraphy print he knew it was an invitation to somewhere. Probably a black tie event at a thousand dollars a plate. Some highbrow charity dinner that allowed the rich people of New York to put on their dressiest clothes, mingle together, eat expensive food and drink even pricier drinks. No, thanks. Not his scene.
He preferred the solitude of his penthouse after a long week. Mingling with business people was not how he chose to spend his off-time. He’d always been like that.
Well, not always. There was once a time when he tolerated socializing and blending with the beautiful people. Of course, he had a partner at his side then. A beautiful, vivacious partner who thrived on getting out, meeting people and talking.
Life was different then.
He tossed the invitation aside and picked up the next envelope. While he opened it, his mind wandered to a day many years ago. A day he had worked hard to forget. A day that no longer invaded his every waking moment with stabs of anxiety and pain, but one that still attacked his resting hours, when the barrier was lowered and the unwanted could slip in.
He and Marguerite were celebrating their love with a rare vacation – a week in Paradise – Hawaii. He’d been working for his father-in-law for three years at Calibrite. Maurice insisted that his workaholic son-in-law get away for a couple weeks, take his daughter for a carefree vacation in the sun.
While away, Marguerite shared a secret – she was carrying their child. It was wonderful news. Marguerite was the center of all that was fantastic in his life. A terrific marriage, a lucrative and challenging career with a bright future, and now, a family. His heart soared on the breeze as they rented a posh sports car and took it on a drive around the island.
Grant rose to his feet, pushing his desk chair backwards with a rush. His heart pounded and a line of sweat broke out on his forehead. He stalked to the plate glass window and looked out at the busy street below. Over the last decade he’d struggled to control these memories so he could forge ahead with his life. Although Marguerite’s life ended that day in Paradise, his went on. He had spent a long time recovering from the physical damage of that day, but the emotional damage was taking far, far longer.
But the vault had opened now, due to a careless glance at a black tie affair invitation. Of course, his life would’ve been different if he hadn’t encountered that truck on the curvy mountain road in Hawaii. A rented sports car was no match for a dozing truck driver who had veered lanes and plowed over them.
Grant shuddered. Both of them pinned in the vehicle, dependent on help coming. The truck driver’s horror. The ambulance arriving, the frantic race to the hospital. Getting the news that Marguerite didn’t make it. His own legs paralyzed. Months of physical therapy, fighting to regain the use of his legs when all he wanted to do was curl into a ball and give up.
His Marguerite, gone. And with her, their only child. His dream life, so perfect, was over.
There was a quiet tap on his door and Miranda breezed in with the water bottle. He pulled himself together, swiped a hand over his face. He turned and walked back to his desk. “Thanks.”
She gave him a curious glance, but he waved her away. She peered a little closer at his face. “You okay?”
Grant smirked. Miranda had been there through his rough patches, as well as when things were breezing. He could lie to her but it was no use.
He exhaled some breath and shook his head. He started to speak and then pointed at the fancy white card on his desk.
She stepped over and picked it up. “A party invitation. I see.” She nodded and looked at him with warmth in her expression. No more words were needed. Then she studied the invitation closer. “It’s for McDunn and Early clients. You’ve made the A list.”
To Friedman he was on the F list. He couldn’t really blame them for taking the news of their replacement so poorly. But times were changing and Calibrite’s advertising needed to change too.
Grant concentrated on calming his breathing, getting his heart rate under control. Memories of Marguerite’s death came so rarely now, he forgot how frightening they were.
“Are you going?”
He gave her a look. “What do you think?”
“My guess would be no, based on how you’ve turned down every other social invitation for the last eight years or so. If you don’t watch out, people might think you’re anti-social.”
“I could be pegged with a worse reputation.”
Miranda placed the invitation back on his desk. She studied him again and patted him on the back. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Thanks.” He nodded at her and she seemed convinced. She left the room.
Grant took a deep breath. Time to get back to work. He returned to his desk and reviewed the rest of his mail. Straightening up, he fingered the invitation again. He placed it firmly on the pile to be pitched. He stared at it a moment. Slowly he picked it up, read it again, and stuck it in the inside pocket of his jacket.
* * * *
Alyssa sat on the lowered toilet seat in her cramped bathroom, dodging flying drops of water. “Caroline! Stop it. You’re getting the floor wet.”
Her daughter flipped to her stomach in the bathtub and pumped her arms in a swimming motion. Gangly legs stuck out of the water, then disappeared under the bubbles as Caroline shifted again and sat up, water cascading off her hair. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. Alyssa screeched and held up a towel to ward off the latest onslaught.
“You’ve had enough. Out.” Alyssa stood and held the towel between outstretched arms. Caroline giggled and came to her feet in the tub. She stepped out and Alyssa embraced her in the terrycloth. She inhaled and said, “Mmmmm,” at the strawberry smell of Caroline’s shampoo. “Okay, run to your room and get your jammies on. You have homework to do before bedtime.”
The little girl trotted down the hall and Alyssa straightened the bathroom, soaking up escaped water that had found its way on the floor, vanity and mirror. Ahhh, bathtime. Still one of Caroline’s favorites.
As she made her way down the short hallway toward the living room, Alyssa heard a three-beep signal. A text message had hit her cell phone. She located it in her purse and pulled it out.
“Do u have a min 4 a call?”
She grimaced. Grant Fontaine and his company had taken over her whole life the last few weeks. Preparing the proposals for their meeting had absorbed all waking moments at work and at home, when she wasn’t performing her maternal duties. Then, since she’d received the fantastic news that he’d signed on as a client, her boss Daniel McDunn had made it very clear that Grant was her only client. She was at Grant’s disposal 24/7. While she’d expected to be named Grant’s Account Executive – she had won him as a client, after all – and looked forward to delivering the world-class advertising that he deserved, she didn’t feel it was necessary to be exclusive to him. She could still handle other accounts. In fact, she felt bad about temporarily dumping some of the inactives she’d lured back to the firm with the promise of a fresh look at their advertising needs.
On the other hand, there were only so many hours in the day, and if she had just one client for a while, she could focus on Calibrite, bring in lots of dollars for McDunn and Early, and s
till have enough free time to devote to Caroline.
She glanced at the cell phone in her hand. So, if that exclusive client needed to talk to her at 8:00 at night, so be it. She tapped in Grant’s number and listened to it ring.
“Hello?” He picked it up on the second ring.
“Mr. Fontaine?”
A pause. “Ms. Stark?”
She smiled. “Call me Alyssa.”
“I will if you will. If you insist on calling me Mr. Fontaine, then I will call you Ms. Stark till the cows come home. Isn’t that something you’d say out in the Midwest?”
“Okay, okay. Grant it is.”
“Yeah, you say it now, but tomorrow or the day after, you’ll slip into calling me ‘Mister’ again.”
“Once I get to know you better, it’ll come naturally, I guess.”
“You want to get to know me better, is that it?”
“Well,” she began, then stopped. Her mind raced, not wanting to say anything unprofessional. He was her firm’s newest big shark, after all. And this whole conversation had an entirely too casual tone to it.
She could hear the smile in his next words. “Got you flustered, didn’t I?”
“I just think that we’re going to get to know each other better as we work closely on your account. Professionally, of course.”
“Speaking of my account, I’m looking forward to seeing the prototypes of the social network advertising. That was a stroke of genius on your part.”
She felt her face turn a little warm. She had been pleased with her internet ad ideas for Calibrite, too. “Thank you. The prototype should be ready to share later this week.”
There was a moment of silence. “I got an invitation to your agency’s black tie event.”
“Oh, yes! You became a qualifying client just in time, didn’t you?”
“It’s next weekend.”
“Yes. At the Waldorf. From what I’ve heard, it’s an annual thank you to the clients. This will be my first year, as well.”
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