by Calista Fox
Lola still wasn’t totally sure she’d survive in the Marketing department at Staci Kay, but she felt just optimistic enough to take the leap of faith and buy the affordable version of her dream car.
* * *
Alex pulled into the parking lot adjacent to Pete’s, and Lola took the space right next to his Volvo.
She climbed out and said, “Silver suits you, but I am so loving this shade of blue.” She admired her new ride and then turned back to him with a bright smile, dimple and all.
“You look damn fine in that Beamer.” The adrenaline pumping through his veins was proof.
“I feel good about it,” she said as she locked the car with the fob. “Kind of nervous, because I might be biting off more than I can chew at Staci Kay. At the same time, it’s great to feel challenged and pressed to come up with the BBD every single day.”
“Your Bigger Better Deal being this ad campaign?”
“I thought I had it nailed from the pitch,” she said, as they walked to the entrance. “But I’d only scratched the surface. Which makes me curious about why Todd hired me. I think it has something to do with cornering him outside the men’s room. He seems to like chutzpah.”
“Babe, that’s something you have never lacked.”
She beamed, stealing Alex’s breath with her exuberance and sparkling eyes.
“I want to be their little superstar,” she confided. “I’ve barely slept since they promoted me. I can’t seem to shut down my mind—I’ve had trouble arranging all my thoughts.”
Alex pulled the door open for her, and they stepped inside Pete’s hip joint, heading for the long, stainless-steel bar lined with black bar stools. Soft, strategic lighting set off the sapphire accents. Tonight, a band with a sound similar to Imagine Dragons performed on stage.
Pete rounded the bar and swept Lola into a bear hug, lifting her off her feet. She let out a squeal of delight.
When he released her, he shook his head and said, “Damn, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”
“Missed me, did ya?”
He laughed. “Life’s not quite as exciting without Lola Vonn around.”
She fanned herself with a hand and, in a sultry Southern drawl, said, “Oh, the flattery.”
Pete led them to a high-top up front by the band, with a RESERVED sign on it.
“You were expecting us,” Lola said.
“I told Alex if you didn’t come around soon, I’d never forgive you.”
Alex snickered. “That’s not exactly what you said.”
“Sit. Drink. Eat. Enjoy.”
Lola caught Pete’s arm. “You’re joining us, right?”
His gaze slid to Alex, who said, “It’s not a date, man. Bring us all a round of martinis. Make hers dirty.”
“I do like it that way,” she said, with a playful wink that made Alex’s cock spring to life. And had him thinking of all the ways he’d made her come the previous evening.
“I’m on it,” Pete said. “And I’ll put in an order for my latest app addition to the menu, truffle fries with garlic aioli. These alone will make you orgasm.”
He returned to the bar.
“Smart-ass,” Alex muttered as his friend sauntered off. To Lola, he said, “Pete knows I fucked you.”
She blanched. “You couldn’t come up with a preamble for that?”
“Just thought you should know. We talked at the gym.”
“Which is just one step removed from the locker room, I’m assuming.”
He studied her carefully, but she didn’t look miffed. “I figured he’d catch on when I blatantly ogled you.”
Lola grinned again. “You don’t do it in a lecherous way, so don’t worry about it. In fact, I’m up for more—” She cut herself off, appearing slightly hesitant.
Alex figured he could slay this one and barrel right through any sort of reticence on her part. “More FWB?”
“Well, yeah. Sort of. I mean. Yeah.” Her cheeks flushed.
He chuckled, then said, “Last night was killer.”
“Very unexpected. But definitely off the charts.”
They stared at each other, and Alex realized Pete was right—this was downright treacherous territory. They’d not only crossed a line, they’d obliterated it from the sand. Because Alex wanted her now more than ever before.
Luckily, their friend returned with cocktails and menus before Alex delved too much into what that all meant. Pete took the stool next to Lola and said, “Dinner and drinks are on me. Congrats on the promo, Lo. And welcome back to A-Z.”
They all clinked rims and sipped martinis.
She said, “It’s good to be back. And I can’t wait for my family to return from their cruise. I didn’t tell them about the move. Didn’t tell Alex, either. I wanted to surprise everyone.”
“I’m sure you made his year.” Pete smirked.
“No shit,” Alex murmured. Having Lola in his bed made a man want to pound on his chest and let out a triumphant roar. Clearing his throat, he added, “I was shocked to see her at my condo, that’s for sure.”
“I’m shocked you let her stay,” Pete said, with a good-natured laugh. He asked Lola, “On a scale of one to ten, how insane have you made his life so far?”
“I forgot to use one coaster, okay?” she said, with feigned exasperation. “I mean, they’re glass-top end tables. Not like you can’t wipe them down.”
Alex rolled his eyes. “You don’t get it at all, Lo. It’s not that I can’t clean up after you. It’s that I think you should appreciate the fact that I need organization in my life.”
“First,” she reminded him, “I told you that I do respect your need for the neat and orderly in your world. But I also told you that a little CF from time to time keeps things interesting.”
“Ah,” Pete said with amusement in his tone. “Lo and her clusterfucks.”
“It wasn’t a gripe,” Alex contended. “I was just stating the obvious.”
Lola’s voice turned saucy. “If I followed all your rules, how boring would I be?”
Pete whistled under his breath. “Fuck me. Here she goes.”
Alex laughed, because she had him on that one. And knew it. “Point taken. How idiotic of me to have asked you to wear a robe over your nightgowns.”
“When it wasn’t at all what you wanted,” she challenged.
Pete’s brows quirked. “You do realize I’m caught in a sexual-tension crossfire here, right?”
Lola glared at him. Alex’s jaw clenched.
“Just sayin’,” Pete added, clearly entertained. “Guess I should check on those truffle fries.”
He left them alone. Alex took a healthy drink of his martini, then said, “You can mess up my condo all you want.”
She shook her head. “I don’t do it on purpose.”
Alex eyed her speculatively.
She contemplated further.
He finally said, “Yeah, you do. It makes me crazy. But in a good way.”
“Alex.” Lola sipped her cocktail, then let out a long breath. “We don’t mesh, like you said. And yet… we do. What does that mean?”
“At the moment—” he started, but as he caught sight of Pete out of the corner of his eye, returning with their appetizer, he said, “Let’s skip it go for now.” No easy feat for him, but the timing was all off.
Pete set the bowl of fries in the center of the table, along with the aioli and two other dipping sauces. “Eat up. These are awesome.”
“They smell divine,” Lola said, before digging in.
“You guys in the mood for wood-fired pizza?” Pete asked. “Our new house specialty is the Margherita. Not spicy, Alex.”
“I’m game,” Lola immediately chimed in.
“Sure,” Alex said.
Pete headed back into the kitchen.
Alex almost scowled at himself. Trying to play it cool for Lola was a joke. Especially in front of Pete. They all knew he didn’t do spicy. Didn’t do adventurous. Didn’t do crazy, spur of the moment.
And yet… He gazed at Lola over the rim of his martini glass. It dawned on him that he was selling himself short. He’d been spicy, adventurous, crazy, spur of the moment with her last night. And was more than ready, willing, and able to go to the extreme with her again.
He wanted her in ways he’d never considered with any other woman. He wanted the primal, can’t get enough of her feelings to continue.
He didn’t want to screw himself, though, by getting in over his head.
Draining his martini, Alex speared her with a serious expression and said, “I know you’re treading water right now with this new job. I don’t want to mess anything up for you. Get your feet underneath you, then we’ll see what’s what with the FWB.”
She gnawed her glossy lower lip a moment. Pete served another round of martinis before returning to the bar.
Lola said, “What happened last night helped me to get my bearings with this ad campaign and come up with something even more provocative. But I do need some sleep.” She shook her head. Gave him a heated look. “I don’t want to sleep.”
Alex grinned. “I’m not going anywhere, Lo. You know where to find me.”
It was a difficult, complicated, painful retreat. But a necessary one, in Alex’s mind.
He needed time to process what had transpired between them so unexpectedly. So quickly. He needed time to get a grip on his riotous emotions. And maybe Lola could use some time to acclimate, too. To everything.
They polished off the fries, and Pete delivered the pizza, joining them for dinner. They talked about high school and college. Even though Pete hadn’t attended ASU with them, he’d remained a part of their crew. He’d worked the bar during those years, and had taken it over when his father’s cancer had worsened. Pete Sr. was still alive—good news there. He’d defied his six-month death sentence by three years. Was, in fact, making a strong comeback while the cancer was in remission.
After dinner, Alex and Lola returned to the condo. She hesitated in the kitchen, her fingernails drumming an incessant beat on the granite counter.
Alex’s body was on fire for her, no ignoring that. But he said, “Get some sleep, Lo. You can’t be a marketing superstar when you’re exhausted.”
She sighed. “Yes. Right. And I am exhausted. At the same time, I’m… all fired up.”
Alex nodded. “Yeah, I know. My bed’s so damn close, I could whisk you off in a heartbeat. But…” He squared his shoulders. Sucked it up. “We both have other things on our plates. Sleep tonight.”
It took all the self-control he possessed, but Alex walked away.
Of course, with every step, he wanted to turn back to her. Grab her and whisk her off to his bedroom.
Steely resolve was a bitch of an emotion. It tugged at him. Tore at him. But Alex powered through and kept on moving toward his room.
He left the door open, though. Just in case…
Chapter Six
Lola paced the conference room again during the next morning’s meeting, having come up with a few more clever ideas since she’d gotten a good night’s sleep. Yet she felt like she was still in need of more creative vibes.
Sarah’s gaze followed her. “You didn’t write on the board the thing you said yesterday about thinking better on your feet because of the shoes.”
Lola drew up short and eyed the group. “Is that something significant?”
Todd nodded. “This is a process, Lola. Seeds can be discarded or they can be cultivated. If we don’t plant them, we’ll never grow a garden.”
“Right.” She bit back the grin. They allowed her to write on the board once more. How cool was that?
“My thought,” Jen interjected, “is that we have varying degrees of how a woman’s shoes impact her entire existence. For example, I can’t wear the sexy stilettos or peek-a-boos that might have been the star of this whole campaign if we hadn’t pulled in the diversity aspect. I have hobbit feet.”
All eyes landed on Jen, and she shrugged while her cheeks flushed.
“Seriously,” she continued. “It’s so embarrassing. I won’t wear strappy sandals or any other revealing style. I stick with the classics. The basics. Because I just don’t have attractive feet, and my toes are, well, weird and stubby. My husband teases me and says my mom pulled my socks too tight when I was a baby, and so my toes sort of curl under. But…” She wagged a finger as she made her point. “I can still find the perfect Staci Kay shoes to fit my style and every outfit in my closet.”
Lola smiled. A little something about Jen’s confession jerked her heartstrings. Jen had opened up to the group. Lola wondered if it was because she’d shared a little about herself the day before.
Lola said, “We all have insecurities. Yet we can find the right boost with Staci Kay shoes. We wouldn’t be here otherwise, would we?”
“My wife, Krista, is short,” Mark blurted. “Like, really short. Four-foot-eleven. Can’t even make that five-foot mark. But that woman in five-inch heels?” He grinned, and it lit his dark-brown eyes. “She’s kick-ass.”
“See?” Lola said. “We’re not just selling shoes. We’re selling attitude. Confidence. Even altitude.”
Mark laughed. “It’d be safer for us all if we didn’t mention that last one to Krista.”
Todd closed his leather portfolio and stood. “Good work, people. Keep it up.” He left the room, followed by his director and manager.
Lola took another leap of faith and asked her coworkers, who lingered around the table, “Where do we go from here?”
“Lunch,” Sarah said.
“Stingray Sushi,” Jen chimed in.
“Awesome,” Mark added.
Tiff asked, “I’m invited too, right?”
Sarah eyed her for a moment, seemingly debating, as though they typically didn’t ask the administrative assistant along, then said, “Yes. There’s still some shoptalk we need to cover. And we’re expecting you to make the ad agency appointment happen on Monday. For sure. They have to be here.”
“They don’t respond that quickly,” Tiff said, a hint of nerves in her voice. She clearly hadn’t figured out how to go toe-to-toe with Sarah yet. Being included with the team, however, was obviously paramount to her.
“They will this time,” Sarah said in a firm tone. “You heard Todd. He’s all over this campaign. Sell it, Tiff.”
Tiff’s gaze slid to Lola, and her chin lifted. A hint of determination flickered in her hazel eyes. “They’ll be here,” Tiff asserted. “And you’ll blow them away.”
Lola didn’t really know what to make of this turn of events, but as she stared at the team that had started to embrace her and her campaign concept, she said, “Do whatever you have to, Tiff. We’ll be ready for them. More than ready.”
“Hell, yeah,” Mark said.
Sarah and Jen concurred.
In that instant, Lola felt as though—after three long years of wanting this job—she’d finally “made” it.
“I can’t do this without you all—Tiff as well,” she told them. “I know how I feel about the campaign, but let’s face it. Something this big isn’t one person’s vision.”
Mark said, “That’s why we meet every morning and throw whatever shit we can at the whiteboards to see what sticks.”
“So eloquently put,” Jen snickered.
“You know what I’m saying,” he commented. “And we do need to work more cohesively. This project proves how important it is that we act as a team.”
Lola said, “One I’m thrilled to be a part of, by the way.”
“Agreed,” Jen said.
Sarah gave a nod, then said, “I’m starving. Sushi. Stat.”
It was only eleven o’clock, but over sashimi, Crunchy New York, Dragon, and Spider rolls, they brainstormed more ideas that would take Lola’s sexy ad campaign to all-new levels.
While they reconciled the bill, Jen said to Lola, “You should be in the ads too.”
“No.” She gave a decisive shake of her head. “That’s Staci’s role.
She owns the shoes, the company, the image, the ad concept—”
“But here’s a play on all that,” Mark interjected. “Staci is the face of Staci Kay shoes, sure. But her entire empire is built on the premise of her employees’ dedication to her mission and their love of the product. So, an award-winning campaign, in my opinion, would feature those employees who are inspired by Staci and love her merchandise. Not to mention, it would showcase how diverse the company is, right? We have to keep playing up that component. It’s critical to our success.”
Lola’s gaze flitted around the table. She asked, “Would you girls be in the campaign? Jen, you’re Latina. And, Sarah, I see a bit of Native American in you.”
“A quarter Cherokee,” she replied proudly.
“There’s some of our mixed ethnicity Mark spoke of,” Lola said. She turned to Tiff. “You’re Italian, right?”
“Full-on paesana. Parents came straight from Italy to work on an olive farm and eventually own a mill.”
“So essentially,” Mark said, “we have the starting cast for the ad campaign in-house.”
He shot Lola a solid look with a crooked brow. Challenging her to step aboard this crazy train.
Her stomach suddenly churned. She skirted the issue at hand by simply saying, “If Sarah, Jen, and Tiff want to be in the ads, we can totally cast them.”
“And Lily from Sales is African American,” Sarah offered. “She’d be a great addition—she’s a thigh-high-boot girl, and I swear, no one owns the look the way she does. I’m so freakin’ jealous.”
That took Lola by surprise. She’d never guess Sarah had an envious bone in her body.
Jen’s gaze slid to Lola. “So, how about it?”
Her stomach churned itself right into a knot of nerves. “Not me,” she told them. “I want to be the creative behind the scenes, not a face in front of the camera.”
“That makes no sense,” Tiff scoffed. “You’d be incredible. You’re so… Renee Olstead in her ‘Sleepwalk’ vid, but with more of Marilyn’s body.”
Lola tensed, wishing Tiff had stopped at Renee and not tossed in the inevitable Marilyn reference. “This isn’t really my thing.”