Amazonia
by Ariela Vaughn
Copyright 2012 Ariela Vaughn
Smashwords Edition
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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One
Layla Harper stroked her cat’s silky white fur and wished she knew when her boss would call. So what if she had blown up at him and walked out of his office? Jefferson Prescott had deserved every bit of it and more for treating her like a weak-minded female. Never mind that the client had liked her vision for their ad campaign. Jefferson had thought the lacy dresses on the models were too girly to be used in a cologne ad. Perhaps if he would have focused on the rest of the image, such as the virile male model posed between the two fawning young women, he would have understood the message—that this cologne would make a man irresistible to gorgeous women. Wasn’t that every man’s dream?
The client certainly thought so, but apparently Jefferson wasn’t every man. Come to think of it, Layla had never seen a photo of a girlfriend on his desk or heard him mention a date even though it was a well-known fact around the office that he wasn’t married. Could it be he didn’t like the ad campaign because he didn’t want to attract women?
Layla’s hand stilled and she looked down into the cat’s bright blue eyes. “He can’t be gay, can he? He’s never shown an interest in men either, Fluffy. Maybe he’s asexual and just doesn’t care one way or the other about relationships?”
That kind of apathy would explain his misunderstanding of the ad she had created. But it didn’t explain his attentiveness whenever he stopped by her office to discuss a project or for a brief chat.
Before her musing could go any further, the phone rang, startling her and Fluffy. The cat launched himself across the room and disappeared into the hallway. Layla reached over and grabbed her cell phone from the table beside her. Jefferson’s number showed on the screen.
She drew in a deep breath and answered. “Layla Harper.”
“You need to come back to the office,” Jefferson’s deep voice responded.
“If you just want to yell at me again, I think I’ll stay home until tomorrow.”
“Layla, please.” His heavy sigh brought a twinge of guilt. Perhaps she was being more difficult than necessary, but her irritation ran deep and it was difficult to let it go.
She took a deep breath, reaching for the patience she knew lay buried somewhere inside. “Look, it’s been a long day and there’s only half an hour left before the end of business. I can’t get there in time to get anything productive done.”
“So count it as overtime. I think you owe it to the company, since you walked out early.”
“Do you remember why I walked out early, Mr. Chauvinistic?” Layla snapped, her temper rising once more.
“Yes, I stated my opinion of your ad idea and you took offense at it,” Jefferson returned with just as much heat. “Now, if you want to have a job tomorrow morning, you’ll get your behind back here and into my office in twenty minutes or less.”
“Yes, sir.” She hung up before he could reply and glared at the phone. “Dictating jerk.”
Reluctantly leaving her comfy chair, she stood and headed for the bedroom. Fluffy lay in the middle of her quilt, sound asleep as if he hadn’t fled the ringing phone just moments ago. Layla rolled her eyes and went to her closet. Since she currently wore her favorite pair of ratty jeans and a form-hugging tank top, she figured she should change into something a little more professional before returning to the office.
Then her gaze fell on the glowing green numbers of her alarm clock. By the time she got there, everyone would be leaving for the day, except for her and the man forcing her to work late. She grabbed a pair of sneakers and pulled them on.
“If he wants to ruin my evening because of some misguided power trip, he can just deal with seeing me in this.”
The only addition she made to her outfit was a zippered hoodie sporting a flaming skull on the back. The front bore the name of her cousin’s heavy metal band, Death Fire. Although she’d managed to keep her wilder side hidden from everyone at Prescott and Hayes for the five years she’d worked there, her irritation with Jefferson removed all her reservations about letting him see it. He was invading her downtime, so he could deal with it. The worst that could happen was that she had to look for a new job in the morning, but even that likely wouldn’t be too difficult. After all, Gordon Marketing had been trying to lure her away from the position she’d loved until the disastrous meeting with Jefferson this afternoon. The only reason she hadn’t switched firms yet is because she had worked hard to reach her current position and earn the respect of her colleagues and clients. She didn’t want to have to start over at a new firm with new clients.
She grabbed her cell phone and keys on the way out the door. Her one concession to her “weekend personality,” as her cousin called it, was the black Jeep sitting in her driveway. She had spent more than one Sunday evening washing off mud and returning the paint to a high shine in order to prevent anyone at work from guessing she spent her weekends out in the middle of nowhere and helping her cousin’s band transport equipment to venues at fairgrounds, warehouses, and the occasional barn.
Fifteen minutes later, she rode the elevator to the fourth floor of Hildegard Tower. The huge steel-and-glass building housed multiple corporations, but Prescott and Hayes owned the entire fourth floor. Layla’s office sat in the middle of the main hallway, near the bank of elevators and reception area. She bypassed it, ignoring the stunned gazes of her coworkers leaving for the day, and strolled to Jefferson’s corner office.
He responded to her knock with a curt, “Enter.”
Layla fought down her temper and opened the door. “I’m here as ordered. What couldn’t wait until morning?”
Jefferson sat behind his desk, his eyes wide and his mouth open slightly. He quickly snapped it closed and rose, coming around to meet her. “Is this part of a new ad campaign or part of a new campaign to drive me nuts?”
She crossed her arms and glared. “Neither. This is me when I’m not working. I would have changed, but I got the feeling you would rather I didn’t take the time.”
“Touché.” He stepped around her and closed the door, and then he returned to his desk chair. “Have a seat.”
She dropped into the chair he indicated and sprawled comfortably, tired of playing the part of the perfect little businesswoman. Obviously, it had been a mistake to completely hide her tomboy tendencies, since Jefferson apparently couldn’t stand a show of femininity.
He twisted his leather chair back and forth, and a quiet, soothing creak filled the air. After studying her a moment longer, he stopped and leaned forward, steepling his fingers in front of his chest. “Layla, I’ll be honest. Our working together isn’t going as well as I had hoped when I asked you to assist me with the New Man Cologne account.”
“That’s hardly my fault, since I di
d as you asked by taking care of the photo shoot. You forgot to tell me that you had a different vision for the photos than I did.” She lifted an eyebrow, hoping like crazy he wasn’t on his way to demoting her to the position of gofer. “By the way, did you notice how much the client loved those images, even though you hated them?”
“I did.” Jefferson worked his jaw, and Layla realized she’d better quit pushing him before he grew so exasperated he fired her. He took a deep breath and slowly released it before speaking again. “Look, Layla, I didn’t have you come here to restart our earlier argument.”
“Oh?”
“I want to make amends, work out our differences.” He crossed his arms on his desk and leaned closer. “Somehow, you and I have to learn to work together peacefully.”
“And why is that? Unless the client is suddenly unhappy with the New Man campaign, I don’t see why we need to worry about it.” She gave a nonchalant shrug and settled deeper in her seat. “After all, we were only working together on that one project.”
“Well, that’s the problem. The client was so pleased with our work that they’ve asked us to work together on the campaign for their new perfume, Amazonia.”
Despite her tension at the thought of working with Jefferson on another project, Layla couldn’t help laughing. “Amazonia? Really? And who do they intend to sell this perfume to, the Women’s Lumberjack Association?”
“Not quite.”
A small smile lifted the corners of Jefferson’s mouth, and Layla suddenly realized just how sexy the man was. For the first time since she walked into his office, she took a good look at him. His normally neat dark hair was tousled, as though he had run his fingers through it several times. He had removed his tie and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his crisp white shirt, revealing a strong tanned throat. With his suit coat casually hanging open as well, Layla could see that the man beneath the perfectly tailored clothing had a nice build. If she were a betting woman, she’d lay odds that his chest and abs were chiseled enough to make even the most oblivious woman drool, and she was far from oblivious.
Jefferson raised one eyebrow in a most appealing manner, and his green eyes sparkled with amusement. “Layla? Did you hear what I said?”
Heat infused her cheeks as she realized she’d been caught staring. “Sorry, my mind drifted for a moment. What were you saying?”
“I said the client wants us to work our magic and make Amazonia appeal to every woman. They want the name to invoke the mental image of a strong but sexy woman, one who can take on the world and still enjoy a romantic candlelit dinner with her husband or boyfriend.”
Layla’s mind turned from her boss to ideas for the ad. “So, no lumberjacks.”
Jefferson chuckled, a rich sound that sent sparks of warmth shooting through Layla’s veins. “No, I can’t imagine lumberjacks fitting the sexy part of the brand’s image.”
“Well, I could probably come up with a way to make it work, but I assume the client wants something a little more big city and a little less backwoods.”
“You got it.”
“When do they want the initial ideas?”
“If we could have something for them by the middle of next week, that would be great.” Jefferson combed his fingers through his hair, tousling it even more and making Layla’s pulse rate spike. The man was the embodiment of the cologne campaign they had just completed—an irresistible woman-magnet.
She looked away from him and picked at a weak spot on her jeans. It looked like she would soon have a new hole, not that she minded. The holes and frayed cuffs just added to the look. Plus, the denim had been washed so much it couldn’t get much softer, which was the main reason she loved them.
“So, do you have any ideas percolating in that pretty little head of yours?”
Layla’s head shot up, her hackles rising at his chauvinistic way of referring to her. Then she saw the warmth in his eyes, and shock chased all traces of irritation from her system. Could it be that instead of being out to get her, he was actually interested in her? She shook off the thought. No way could he be interested in a closet tomboy. “I have a couple of ideas, but I’m not sure how well lace and work boots go together.”
Jefferson stared at her and then burst into laughter. “Why do I get the feeling your mind is a frightening place for the unsuspecting?”
“I’m sure it is, which is why you should be glad you’re not in here with me.” She wasn’t about to admit the reason she was glad he wasn’t in her mind. What would he think if he knew she was trying to figure out her chances of a date with him?
“I don’t know. It might be interesting to observe your thought processes for a day. Maybe then I would know how to get along with you better.”
Layla studied him, her heart in danger of pounding out of her chest. “Does it matter whether we get along or not as long as we get the job done and the client is happy?”
“I think it does.” He stood and came around the desk, propping his hip on the front corner. “Wouldn’t you rather work with someone you like instead of someone who constantly rubs you the wrong way?”
With him this close and smelling of woodsy aftershave, she couldn’t imagine objecting to any way he wanted to rub her as long as those hands were as confident as his personality. “I guess we should work on improving our relationship. After all, it might improve our ability to produce ads that will have clients and consumers begging us for more.”
“I was hoping you would say that.” Jefferson straightened and stepped away, leaving her longing for him to come back. “Let’s get some dinner and discuss this new project in a more relaxed setting. Perhaps our problem is that we never see each other outside of the office.”
Layla stood and indicated her unprofessional clothing with a skeptical wave. “You honestly want to spend more time with someone who dresses like this when not working?”
“Sure, why not? It’s not like I always wear a suit. That’s just for business.”
“Point taken.” She resisted the urge to ask what he wore after hours and on weekends. “So, where do you want to go for dinner?”
“How does Shirley’s sound?” Jefferson said, naming one of her favorite diners.
“They have the best cheeseburgers I’ve ever tasted.”
“In that case, let’s go. I’ll drive.” He paused halfway to the door and glanced back at her. “If that’s okay with you?”
With the effort he was making to get along with her, who was she to argue? She gave him a friendly smile as she joined him. “That’s fine with me.”
“Excellent,” Jefferson said and opened the door for her.
Layla stepped into the empty hallway and wondered if dating her boss would be grounds for getting fired.
Two
The normally delicious food at Shirley’s Diner held little interest for Jefferson. All of his senses were attuned to the beautiful woman sitting across from him. Dressed in ripped jeans and a hoodie for something called Death Fire, Layla had never looked more beautiful. Her long, wavy black hair flowed around her shoulders and framed her face. Gorgeous brown eyes peered from behind long lashes as she took a sip of her strawberry milkshake.
“So,” she said, setting her glass aside, “how are we going to turn Amazonia into a sexy product?”
“I’ve been thinking about that, and I have an idea.” Unfortunately, he didn’t know how kindly she would take to it, since it involved her.
“Oh?” She brushed a strand of hair away from her eyes, appearing completely unaware of her beauty. It just added to her appeal and the inspiration he had for their latest project.
“Yes, when I picture Amazonia, I see you.” He braced himself for another round of attitude from her. Admittedly, he had deserved every bit of her earlier tirade since he’d made a complete jerk of himself by objecting to the models’ clothing. After all, everyone had known it conveyed the brand’s image perfectly, himself included. He just couldn’t seem to avoid provoking Layla.
Her silen
ce grew until Jefferson worried he’d overstepped some boundary he hadn’t known about. She wouldn’t complain about him to Marshall Hayes, would she? His partner would likely threaten him with dissolution of the company if he caught wind of Jefferson saying anything that could be construed as unprofessional to one of the female employees. Never mind that Marshall made enough comments of his own he was lucky he hadn’t been sued by half of the interns that revolved through the company on a regular basis.
Layla took a deep breath and spoke softly. “What do you mean, you see me?”
“The Amazonia brand is supposed to be strong but sexy—capable and feminine. When I think of those qualities, you immediately come to mind.”
A pretty blush crept into her cheeks, making her even more appealing. What would she think if she knew how much he longed to kiss her?
He shook off the image forming in his mind and focused on her words.
“I can understand strong and capable. But sexy and feminine? Me?” She gestured toward her current outfit. “Look at me. I’m not exactly a prime example of sexiness or femininity. Even in my work clothes, which you see me in every day, I look more strong and capable than sexy and feminine.”
Jefferson studied her, his mind racing. Was she putting on an act for some reason, or was she truly so unaware of her allure? He knew he wasn’t the only one affected by her. Some of the conversations he’d overheard between male employees at Prescott and Hayes let him know that. As he watched her fidget with her straw, he realized she really didn’t know how gorgeous and sexy she was. Inspiration struck and he pulled out his cell phone to call his favorite staff photographer.
“I have an idea that will help us put this ad campaign together. What do you think of doing a little modeling tonight?”
“What?” Her eyes widened and she shook her head. “I’m no model, and even if I were, I’m hardly dressed for it.”
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