She glided across the thick red carpet and sat primly in the oversize club chair next to Mark.
“I trust you had a good time in Vegas, my dear?” David asked.
Becky seemed to force out a smile. “It was amazing, David. Thank you so much for letting me go.”
“Of course—you deserved it. Besides, I knew you were one woman I could trust not to get too carried away in Vegas. I would have never sent that partner of yours. She’s trouble with a capital T.”
Becky’s laugh sounded even more forced than her smile had been. “Yeah, you know me. Married to my job and all that.”
“Oh, not to worry, Becky. Sooner or later a fine-looking girl like you is bound to get snapped up. Then you’ll be too busy having babies to write brilliant campaigns for me anymore. That’s how it always goes. Right, Mark?”
Mark was floored. People still talked like that? In an office? It was a miracle this guy hadn’t been slapped with a multimillion-dollar lawsuit yet. Or, judging from the fury flashing in Becky’s eyes, murdered.
“I don’t know about that, David. I know plenty of working mothers who—”
David cut him off. “Right, right. I know. Girls can do anything men can—blah, blah, blah. None of that matters right now, because my brilliant little sparrow is as single as they come...and I’m going to be keeping you both too busy for her to change matters any.”
Becky sucked in a breath and seemed about to say something, but she never got the chance.
“All right. Enough of this chitchat. Let’s get down to business, shall we? You two are among the most talented creatives this business has to offer,” David said. “And I’m going to need every bit of juice you’ve got. We’ve been asked to take part in the agency search for Eden. You both know what that is?”
Becky nodded. “The yogurt company?”
“You got it,” David said. “They’re coming out with a new line of low-fat, all-natural Greek yogurt flavors designed to get all those pretty hipster ladies hot and bothered. Our job is to figure out how to do that. And, since their advertising budget is a quarter of a billion dollars, we damn well better nail it.”
Becky practically bounced up and down in her chair. “Oh, I’d love to get my hands on that one,” she said.
“Oh, those pretty little hands are going to be all over it. So are yours, Mark. Just...er...hopefully not on the same spot at the same time!” he said.
Mark laughed uncomfortably. “No chance of that happening, sir.” At least not that David needed to know about.
“Good. Now, the Eden people tell me they don’t want any ‘suits’ working on their account. They want something young and fresh...something none of our existing creative directors are. That means you two have the opportunity of a lifetime.”
David got up from his chair and started to pace.
“So here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to break the agency into two creative teams. Becky, you’re going to head up one. Mark, you’ll be in charge of the other. Whichever one of you comes up with the winning concept and sells it to the client will win a fifty-thousand-dollar bonus—and become the youngest creative director this agency has ever had.”
Mark blinked slowly, trying to wrap his head around this new twist. David had never said anything about a competition.
“You’re making me compete for the creative director position?” asked Becky, her eyes sparking angrily in an otherwise pale face. “But you told me that when I came back from AdWorld the job was as good as mine!”
“It is,” David said. “All you have to do is win the Eden account.”
Mark watched as Becky sprang up from her chair. There was no doubt that murder was on her mind.
“I will,” she said from between clenched teeth. Then she turned to glare at Mark. “And don’t you dare think for a second that you’ve got a shot!”
With that, she strode from the room, controlled fury in every movement. Good thing he had no problem with beating a sexy woman at her own game, because there was no way he was losing this job.
Turning to David, he said, “This competition’s going to be quite a challenge.”
“I’m counting on you to win,” David said. “Don’t let me down.”
“I won’t.”
* * *
Becky slammed her office door so hard the wall shook.
“Wow. What’s up your butt?” Jessie asked.
“David,” Becky said.
“Ewww, that sounds uncomfortable!” Jessie giggled.
Becky glared at her. “It’s not funny,” she said. “That stupid blowhard is trying to give away my promotion again.”
“The one he swore would be yours after you got back from Vegas?”
“The one and the same.” Becky sighed, her heels tapping a staccato tune across the cement floor as she paced.
Jessie grabbed Becky’s coat. “All right, you’re going to tell me what’s happened. But not here. A discussion like this calls for hot-fudge sundaes.”
* * *
“You don’t have to win this by yourself! You’ve got your whole team behind you,” Jessie said between bites of hot fudge.
“I don’t know who’s on my team yet,” Becky said, picking up her spoon, watching as the melting ice cream dripped back into her bowl. “I could get stuck with anyone.”
“Did David lay out any rules when he said the creative department was going to be split in half?”
Becky shook her head.
“Then I vote we make the rules for him,” Jessie said, grabbing a pen and paper out of her green velvet purse. “All right. No thinking allowed. Tell me who would be on your dream team.”
“You,” Becky said slowly.
“Yeah, well, obviously. Who else?”
Becky fell silent and looked out of the window at the busy street outside. Three girls walked arm in arm, laughing and talking as they went. Just then one lone man broke through their line, forcing their arms apart. They let him through, but shot up their middle fingers at him after he passed.
“I know what we need,” she said, excitement zinging through her pores. “Jessie, we need girl power. Let’s make this a battle of the sexes.”
“Wait—what?”
“David thinks women creatives don’t have it in them to be as good as men. Let’s prove him wrong. Let’s gather all the women in the department on our team and let Mark have the men.”
“But there are more guys than girls in our department. It won’t be an even match,” Jessie said.
“Numbers aren’t everything,” Becky said. “Especially since the product in question is aimed squarely at women our age.’”
Jessie put down her spoon. “You, my dear, are brilliant.”
“Well, yeah,” Becky said. “Haven’t you seen my awards shelf?”
“I have.” Jessie snorted. “You think it’s bigger than Mark’s?”
“Hmm, I don’t know,” Becky said, her mind showing her wicked images of Mark’s thick penis twitching in her palm as she kissed his muscled chest. “I honestly don’t know much about him at all. Other than the fact that he’s magic...”
“Magic?”
Becky started, reluctantly letting her daydream disappear.
“That’s what I told him he was. Magic Man from Vegas.”
Jessie stared at her, her blue eyes almost green with jealousy. “Man, that must have been one good night.”
“The best,” Becky said. Seeing the question in Jessie’s eyes, she put her hand up in a “stop” gesture. “But it was just one night. I don’t want or need a man in my life right now. What I need,” she said, grinning, “is a team of Magic Women. Let’s go put it together.”
“I knew my girl was in there somewhere. And—” Jessie grinned, handing Becky the check “—since yo
u’re about to be fifty thousand dollars richer, I’ll let you get this.”
Becky rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she said. “But only because you’re about to work your ass off for me.”
* * *
Mark was staring out through the window of his office at the crowds teeming past on Madison Avenue, wondering what on earth he had gotten himself into.
Usually he was brought in to save the day. Agencies never called him until they were facing a problem they couldn’t solve—a challenge they couldn’t meet. He got to play the part of vagabond hero. He came in, slayed the dragon, claimed a few hot nights with the delicious advertising damsels he had rescued, then left.
He didn’t get to know the other players in the story. Never bothered to worry about whose toes he was stomping on, or what effect his actions had on those left behind when he rode off into the sunset.
His life, both professional and personal, was very much a case study in the “Wham, Bam, Thank You, Ma’am,” approach to life. And that was the way he liked it.
After all, the one and only time he’d allowed himself to fall in love he’d found out the hard way that it had been his stepfather’s name—or, more aptly, his money—that had gotten him the girl. And when she’d found out that Mark would never inherit the family fortune Sandra had turned to someone who did have top billing on a rich man’s will.
The day he’d found Sandra in bed with his stepbrother hadn’t been the first time he’d cursed his stepfamily, but it had been the last time he’d admitted to being part of it.
These days he didn’t need anybody or anything. Well, nothing except for a killer job and a place among advertising’s greats—a place he’d earned on his own.
So why did a certain blonde keep interrupting his thoughts?
Just then Becky strode in, fire in her eyes.
“Wow, hey—thanks for knocking,” he said, trying to ignore the way his pulse quickened when she entered the room.
She stalked forward until she was standing directly in front of him. She took a long, slow look around the room and he knew she must be taking in the overly plush carpet, richly upholstered furnishings, the floor-to-ceiling windows and comparing it with her own small if brightly colored closet.
“Nice setup,” she said. “What’d you do? Sleep with David to get it?”
He snorted. “I think you know that’s not the way my tastes run, babe.”
Her face flushed, and he would have given anything to know what she was thinking. She looked up at him and he could see the heat veiled behind her professional fury.
“Let’s get one thing clear,” she said. “What happened was supposed to stay in Vegas, just like David said. It will never happen again.”
“Never, huh? That’s a long time.”
She looked away quickly, but not before he saw the desire flashing in her eyes.
“I’m serious,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. “I’ve worked too hard to get where I am to let some man screw up my life again.”
The disdain in her voice struck deep. So she thought she could just dismiss the maddening attraction that raced between them, huh? It was time to prove her wrong.
He pulled her into his arms and tilted her face up to his, giving in to the urge he’d been fighting since she’d walked into the room.
“I think you know I’m not just ‘some man,’” he said, as he brushed his lips across hers. “I’m magic.”
With that, he deepened the kiss. For a second she stiffened, but then something in her seemed to give. With a soft moan, she relaxed against him and opened her mouth.
He lost himself in the chocolate-flavored cavern as hunger roared to life. Their tongues darted and danced and he pulled her closer, wanting more.
He was reaching for the buttons on her blouse when the sharp whistle that signaled the arrival of a text message on his phone blared.
Becky jumped back, staring at him with undisguised horror.
“I’m not sure if you’re magic,” she whispered. “But I am beginning to think you might be the devil.”
Mark took a breath, shaken by how fast he had lost control. Obviously the heat that had sparked between them in Vegas had been no fluke.
“I’ve been called worse by my competition,” he said. “But usually not until after I beat them.”
She briefly closed her eyes, and when she opened them again her stare was fiercely competitive.
“Right. The competition. I came to tell you that I’ve chosen my team. I’ll take the women—you take the men.”
“A battle of the sexes, huh? All right, if that’s the way you want to play it,” he said, still trying to get himself under control.
“No, that’s the way I plan to win it,” she said. “I never lose.”
“Neither do I, Gorgeous Girl,” Mark said, getting angry. “But guess what? One of us is going to. And it won’t be me.”
She took a deep breath and straightened her spine.
“Yes. It will. This job is mine and there’s no way I’m going to let you steal it,” she growled, then strode from the room.
“I’m not going to steal it. I’m going to earn it,” he said to her departing back.
And he would. He just hoped he didn’t have to crush her in the process.
Copyright © 2014 by Amber Page
ISBN-13: 9781460338858
Dressed to Thrill
Copyright © 2014 by Bella Frances
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.
www.Harlequin.com
Dressed to Thrill Page 17