All's Fair in Lust & War

by Amber Page

  She looked at Mark. He looked back at her, his face pinched with uncertainty. Okay, since he didn’t seem to be willing to take charge they were going to do things her way.

  “Here’s what I think,” she said. “I think we need to overwhelm the client with our awesomeness. We need to go in there with print, digital, TV—the works. Obviously we’re going to need everybody’s help. Mark and I will act as creative leads and work on the big concept stuff—I’m thinking we should tackle TV first—and we’ll break everybody else into small teams to handle individual projects. We’ll meet with the teams daily, to check their progress and keep everyone on task. When we’re satisfied with a project, we’ll bring it to you for final approval. Sound good?”

  David leaned forward, reluctant admiration showing in every line of his face. “That’s a good plan,” he said. “If I didn’t know better I’d think you’d been handling assignments like this for years.”

  Don’t blush, she told herself. Don’t you dare blush.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I’ve been waiting a long time for an opportunity like this.”

  “Better get to it,” David said. “You have a lot to accomplish in a very short amount of time.”

  Becky nodded at Mark and they rose, walking silently across the office.

  “Good luck,” David called as they closed the door. “I’ll be watching you. Remember, this is still a competition!”

  * * *

  It was well after eight p.m. before Becky was finally able to sit down at her desk.

  It had been a long day of kick-off meetings and strategy sessions, but the teams now had their marching orders and were ready to move forward.

  Groaning, she kicked off the patent leather heels that had been torturing her feet all day and massaged her toes. If this was what her life was going to be like from now on she was going to have to invest in some more practical shoes.

  And some protein bars, if the tormented sounds issuing from her empty stomach were any indication.

  She was seriously considering eating the wizened apple she’d found at the back of a drawer when Mark walked in, carrying a delicious-smelling pizza.

  “Dinner is served, my lady,” he said, presenting it to her with a flourish.

  Becky tore open the box and grabbed a slice of the pepperoni-studded goodness. “It’s official,” she said, practically moaning as the heavenly mixture of cheese, tomato sauce and bread hit her tastebuds. “You are my hero.”

  “I try,” he said, snagging a piece for himself. “Some days it’s easier than others.”

  They chewed in companionable silence.

  “What do you think?” he eventually said. “Can we pull this off?”

  “‘This’ meaning...?”

  “The pitch. Three weeks isn’t a lot of time to finish everything you proposed.”

  “Oh. Well, yeah, of course we can. Especially since we’ve got an entire department of talented people at our disposal.”

  “That does help,” he said between bites. “I’ve never experienced this level of support before. I’m usually the guy they bring in to salvage a project that’s gone off the rails or save an account that’s in danger. No one ever really wants to work with me.”

  She thought that sounded kind of lonely, but didn’t think he’d appreciate it if she told him so. “It is a pretty unique thing you do. How on earth did you end up being a modern-day dragon slayer?”

  “I’m not sure. Just luck, I guess.”

  “That’s some luck you have. You’ve worked with some of the best agencies out there,” she said, eyebrows raised.

  “Yeah, well, I’ve got some connections. It’s all about who you know in this business,” he said, looking off into the distance.

  The sour look on his face was one she’d seen only once before.

  “Let me guess. The stepdad?”

  “The one and only.” Mark grimaced. “He’d do just about anything to keep me out of his house and away from his wife.”

  “What does he do, anyway?” For some reason, Becky imagined Mark’s stepdad as being some kind of modern-day nobility, living off his inheritance and not doing much of anything.

  “You’ve heard of Kipper, Vonner and Schmidt?”

  She snorted. “Of course. They’re only the largest ad agency in New York.”

  “My stepdad’s the Kipper. And he bought out Vonner.”

  “Oh,” Becky said, trying not to be impressed. “I guess he would have connections.”

  “Yep. He’s the only reason I ever got any work. At least to begin with.”

  Becky was willing to bet there was more to the story than that. But she wasn’t in the mood to push.

  “Well, connections or no, you’re really good at what you do—at least according to the internet. You’ve got almost as many awards as I do.”

  “Ah, so you cared enough to look me up, huh?

  “Of course. You didn’t think I’d let you back into my pants without making sure you weren’t a serial killer first, did you?”

  “I wasn’t aware that you’d put much thought into the situation at all.”

  She lowered her eyes, suddenly unable to meet his penetrating gaze. “Well, I may have done it post-pants-getting-into. Last night.”

  “I see. And what did you decide?”

  She smiled. “Well, it was quite a debate. On the one hand, you’re great for stress relief.”

  “Sure—I’ll buy that.”

  “But you’re bad for the rep. I had an ice-queen thing going, you know.”

  “Well, it’s too late to save her,” he teased. “I distinctly remember seeing her melt Saturday afternoon.”

  “You might be right. But I was a little worried I might lose my competitive advantage by sleeping with you.”

  “A valid concern.”

  “But then I realized engaging in pillow talk is a great way to gather intel.”

  “True enough.”

  “There’s also the brain goo problem.”

  “Brain goo?”

  “Yeah, when I’m around you and start thinking about what we could do to each other my brain turns to goo.”

  “Oh,” he said, looking devilishly pleased. “Well, that’s a good problem to have.”

  “It is. Especially since the best way to fix it is to do the things I’m thinking about.”

  “Which means...?”

  “Which means you should probably stock up on condoms. I have a very good imagination.”

  He grinned. “I already did.”

  “Good. Because you know what I’d like to do right now?”

  “What?”

  “Have sex in an elevator.”

  “Did you just...? You want to have...?”

  “Sex in an elevator. Yes. It was all I could think about on the way down from David’s office this morning.”

  He shot up from his chair, excitement and desire dancing in his eyes. “Let’s go, then. I wouldn’t want your brain to be clogged with goo any longer than it needs to be.”

  * * *

  A short time later, Becky hit the lobby button so their elevator could resume its descent. Her brain was magnificently clear—and her thighs were wonderfully achy.

  Elevator sex was much more acrobatic than it looked in the movies. If Mark hadn’t been so wonderfully strong it wouldn’t have been possible at all.

  Becky peeked over at the man in question just in time to see him rubbing his biceps.

  “I guess you got your workout for the day, huh?”

  He smiled at her ruefully. “I think I did. Totally worth it, though.”

  Feeling strangely shy now that the deed was over, Becky blushed and looked up at the ceiling to avoid his eyes—only to find herself looking at a different k
ind of lens.

  “Oh, crap,” she breathed. “There’s a camera up there.”

  Mark’s jaw dropped. “What are you talking about?”

  She pointed. “There’s a camera. In the ceiling.”

  “Oh, well...” he said.

  “Oh, well? I tell you we were just filmed having sex and you say, Oh, well?” she squeaked.

  “Becky, look at me,” Mark said.

  Reluctantly, she did. The intensity in his gaze was almost too much to bear.

  “I’m not ashamed of what we’ve done here. If someone wants to watch, let them,” he said. “Besides, no one ever looks at those tapes unless there’s a robbery or something.”

  Looking into the bottomless pits that were his eyes as she was, she couldn’t doubt his sincerity. He meant what he was saying. Deciding there was nothing she could do about it anyway, Becky nodded.

  “I guess you’re right,” she said, and reached up for one last kiss.

  Just then the elevator bell dinged.

  “Well, I guess that puts an end to the evening’s festivities,” Becky said as she pulled away and stepped out through the open doors into the marble lobby.

  “It doesn’t have to,” Mark replied. “You could come home with me.”

  For a brief moment Becky found herself wondering what it would be like to fall asleep in his arms. Heaven, probably. Better not to think about it.

  “Nah, I don’t think so,” she said, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. “I’ll leave you to your dreams. They’re bound to be steamier than anything I can come up with.”

  Mark let out a bark of laughter as he held the glass door open for her. “This from the woman who just propositioned me with elevator sex? I don’t think you give yourself enough credit, my dear.”

  “Well,” she said as she breezed past him, “I guess it’s up to you to top my idea, then. Better put your thinking cap on.”

  Blowing him a kiss, she strode off into the dark night, waiting until he was out of earshot to give in to the hysterical giggles that were bubbling at the back of her throat. Her sex-kitten act was going to need work if they kept this up very long.

  * * *

  Mark collapsed into the black leather massage chair in the creative conference room and closed his eyes, groaning out loud when the vibrating knobs found the tight spot between his shoulder blades.

  It had been another long day spent in meetings and reviewing his team’s work. He and Becky hadn’t even had a chance to think about their own assignments.

  This creative directing stuff was hard.

  He was just starting to relax, the tension in his back mostly gone, when his phone rang. When he saw who it was he groaned again. His stepfather always had had impeccable timing.

  Mentally steeling himself for a lecture, he hit the answer button.

  “Hi, Bill.”

  There was a pause as the man on the other side of the line took a sip from a clinking glass. “Hello, son.”

  Mark cringed. He hated it when Bill called him that.

  “What can I do for you, Bill?”

  “Oh, nothing...nothing. Just checking in to see how the Eden thing is going.”

  “You know about that?”

  His stepfather snorted. “Of course. I know everything that’s going on in this industry, son. So, have you closed the deal yet?”

  Mark sighed. “No, we haven’t even gotten to the pitch stage yet. But it’s going very well. In fact, I’m acting as creative director on the campaign...”

  “That’s right. You and that Becky girl. I hear she’s pretty hot stuff.”

  “You have no idea,” Mark said.

  “Yeah, well, you’ll keep your hands to yourself if you know what’s good for you,” Bill said. “It’s never a good idea to mix business with pleasure.”

  Now it was Mark’s turn to snort. “Is that what you told my mom? I seem to remember she worked for you before she married you. Unless that was a business arrangement too...”

  “Just keep your hands where they belong and do this right,” Bill snapped. “Our family’s reputation is on the line here.”

  “How do you figure? I never tell anyone we’re related unless I have to.”

  “Maybe so. But the ad world is a small place. Those who matter know you’re my son.”

  “Stepson,” he snarled. “As you never failed to remind me when I was living under your roof.”

  “Yes, well, that was then. This is now. There’s a place for you at my agency anytime you want it. Especially if you can bring—”

  “I assure you, I never will,” Mark broke in, and hung up.

  He couldn’t take any more of his stepfather’s asinine advice today. Although he had deflected the question, Mark knew that love had very little to do with Bill’s marriage to his mother. She had told him so herself—on their wedding day.

  He had found her pinning a flower in her hair in her opulent palace of a bedroom at Bill’s house. She’d looked more beautiful than he’d ever seen her.

  She’d seen him in the reflection of her mirror and smiled. “Come here, handsome,” she’d said. “Let me look at you.”

  He’d moved to hug her, then asked the question that had been driving him crazy ever since he’d heard about their engagement.

  “Mom? Why are you marrying Bill?”

  “Because he asked me to,” she’d answered.

  “But you don’t love him.”

  “I don’t have time to wait for love,” she’d said as she straightened the gray-and-white striped tie of his morning suit. “I’m not getting any younger, but you are getting older. And more expensive. This way I’ll have a partner I can count on—and you’ll have a father.”

  “But I don’t want him to be my dad,” Mark had said. “He doesn’t even like me.”

  “He does, too. He just doesn’t know you very well. Be your usual charming self and everything will be fine,” his mother had said.

  She couldn’t have been more wrong. Bill had never shown him anything other than complete and utter disdain. Mark was sure that his stepfather considered him to be nothing more than an annoyance—a piece of unwanted baggage that unfortunately could not be parted from his wife.

  He would have been better off growing up poor and fatherless.

  Suddenly a soft hand landed on his shoulder.

  “You look lost in thought,” Becky said.

  Mark shook his head to clear it. “Just relaxing,” he said, and pulled her down on his lap.

  She put her head on his shoulder and for a moment they just sat together, the vibrations from the still-operating massage chair the only noise.

  Then she sighed. “Being a creative director is way less fun than I thought it would be.”

  He laughed. “You know, I was just thinking that. I haven’t done any actual work today, but I’m completely exhausted.”

  “Me, too,” she said. “But I was thinking I should try to write now that it’s quiet.”

  She shifted on his lap, preparing to get up. But when Mark caught a glimpse of a black lace stocking as her skirt crept up her thigh all thoughts of work vanished from his brain.

  “What’s this?” he said, running his hand up the silken material and under the lace top.

  “Oh, you know... Just a little something to keep you wondering,” she said, blushing.

  “Oh, I’m wondering, all right,” Mark growled, mentally picturing her riding him wearing only those stockings. “I’m wondering what else is under that skirt.”

  She shrugged. “A lady never tells. You’ll have to find out for yourself.”

  That was all the encouragement he needed. He let his hand wander up her smooth thigh, tracing the elastic of the garter up to where it met the satiny belt. Then his hand drif
ted down, toward the middle, looking for the top of her panties. But nothing blocked his way, and soon he felt the soft roundness of her mound under his fingers.

  “You’re not wearing any underwear,” he said, and a bolt of lightning struck his groin, leaving him rock hard and aching for her.

  She put a mocking hand over her mouth, unable to hide her grin. “Oops, I must have forgotten. Silly me.”

  “You. Are. So. Hot,” he said, stroking her bare center and grinning when he saw her expression liquefy.

  He plunged one finger slowly into her core, enjoying teasing her. But it wasn’t enough. He knew he had to have her.

  He drew his finger out and nipped her ear. “Stand up for me, Gorgeous Girl.”

  She did, her legs shaking the tiniest of bits.

  “I’m standing,” she said, her voice husky with desire. “Now what?”

  Mark remembered where they were and paused. “Hang on just a second,” he said, and pushed a chair under the door handle. It wouldn’t do to have one of the cleaning people walk in on them.

  Crossing the floor in two strides, he returned to where Becky was standing, looking beautiful and unsure. “Now, where were we?” he growled.

  She smiled. “I think you were trying to get a better look at my stockings.”

  “Oh, yeah.” He grinned. Reaching behind her, he pulled her zipper down and her gray wool skirt fell to the floor, leaving her wearing only the stockings and heels on her bottom half. He paused, taking a moment to appreciate the perfection of her body. Overcome with a fierce sort of want he couldn’t remember ever feeling before, he pulled her toward him.

  “I want you right here, right now,” he said, sitting down again.

  “In the chair?”

  “You better believe it,” he said, freeing himself from his pants and boxers as quickly as he could. “Get over here.”

  Smiling, she straddled him, plunging on top of him the second he had a condom on. They both groaned, and Mark grabbed her hips, helping her to find her rhythm. He’d never met a woman who fit him so perfectly. So deliciously. If only relationships depended solely on sexual compatibility...

  In no time at all she was arching backward, pushing her breasts into his face as she rocked. He kissed the tender swell of them, feeling grateful that such an amazing woman was giving herself to him.