Читать книгу Dating the Enemy - Amber Page - Страница 10

JESSIE GROWLED WHEN she heard the phone ring. She couldn’t possibly reach it from where she sat, huddled under her desk. Not for the first time she cursed the ancient wiring in her office. It shorted out the power strip that kept her laptop juiced at least three times a day, necessitating these little sojourns.

Someday she’d get that fixed. Hopefully someday soon—especially if they kept landing new business.

“Gloria? Can you get that for me?” she shouted, hoping her sister would hear her.

“Got it!” Gloria yelled as she skidded across the slippery wooden floor and dived for the phone.

“Good afternoon, this is Jessie Owens’s phone … Yes, she’s here. She just needs a minute to get to the phone. Can I tell her who’s calling?”

Gloria peered down at Jessie. “A man named Nick is on the phone. He says you two met at Becky’s wedding.”

Nick? That was a surprise. Given how fast he’d run after she threw herself at him, she hadn’t thought she’d ever hear from him again.

Stupid champagne. She knew better than to drink that stuff. All her internal filters disappeared after a couple of glasses.

Finally untangling herself from the mess of cords, she held a hand up to Gloria. “Help me up, would you?”

Gloria pulled, hard and the two women overbalanced, ending up in a pile on the floor.

They looked at each other and burst into giggles.

“Smooth move, ace.”

“Right back at ya, grace.”

Jessie was still laughing when she spoke into the phone. “Hello, this is Jessie.”

“Jessie. It’s good to know your laugh sounds just as intoxicating when I’m not hopped up on wedding pheromones,” a gravelly voice said.

“I’m surprised you remember how my voice sounded. You sure hightailed it out of there as quickly as you could after we chatted!”

“It wasn’t you,” he said, his voice low with what she assumed was mock regret. “It was the garter. I didn’t want to get anywhere near it.”

Jessie laughed again. She could certainly understand that. After she’d caught the bouquet she’d been forced to coo over the flowers with a gaggle of over-hopeful women, then dance with the aging, paunchy bachelor who’d caught the garter.

“I don’t blame you. It was a weird scene,” she said, leaning back against her desk.

“Weddings usually are. If we’d actually gone back to your room, your friends would have had us married off by morning.”

“Nah, they know better. As far as I’m concerned, marriage is a waste of time.”

Nick laughed. “I hope you didn’t tell Becky that?”

“Of course not. I was my usual supportive self,” she answered, picking up the framed picture of the two of them that sat on her desk. “It has been a long time, though. What? Three months? You’ve been busy, I suppose?”

“Well, you know … I just had to fit a transatlantic move into my schedule, start a new job, and figure out how to save my family’s business. Little stuff.”

Jessie laughed. “You could have stopped at transatlantic move. That would have been enough for me.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” he said.

An awkward silence fell and she glanced down at her watch. “Crap,” she said before she could choke the word back. “I’m late.”

“Late?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a meeting with a new client and their agency. It’s guaranteed to be a hundred kinds of awkward.”

“That stinks. As it happens, I’m on my way to an equally awkward meeting even as we speak. I’ve got to talk my client out of doing something spectacularly stupid—in front of the idiots who are advocating the stupidity.”

“That sucks,” Jessie said, pulling a navy suit jacket from the hook in her office and dashing out of the brownstone that housed her agency.

“Tell me about it.”

“So. What can I do for you?” she said as she clattered down the pavement. “I hate to rush you, but in about three minutes I’ll be heading down to the subway—and you know what that does to cell signals.”

“Oh. Right. Well, I was wondering if maybe you’d want to attend a charity ball with me tomorrow night. I know it’s last-minute, but my father just informed me I have to go and, as I recall, you said you’d love to attend one.”

“Will you be picking me up in a pumpkin-shaped carriage?”

“I can if you promise to wear some glass slippers,” he replied.

“Touché,” she said, pausing at the top of the staircase that led down into the subway. “Okay, you’re on! Where should I meet you?”

“Oh, I really will pick you up,” he said. “Mark already gave me your address.”

“Right. Then I’ll see you about eight?”

“Better make it seven.”

“Okay. See you then,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant.

But inside she was squealing. Going to a ball with the handsome son of a business tycoon? Looking forward to that would certainly get her through this meeting, no matter how badly it went.

Nick looked at his watch, wishing with all his might that his driver would turn off the classical music and step on the gas pedal. Leaning forward, he said, “Bob, can’t you go a little faster?”

The bald man turned and made a face at him.

“What? Are you late for a hot date or something?”

“No. Just a meeting with our agency’s biggest client.”

“The one they brought you back from London to save?” the big man said, one eyebrow raised.

“The one and only.”

“Say no more, son. I’ll get you there. Buckle up.”

As the town car turned off the traffic-jammed street on to a glorified alley Nick quickly did as he was told.

He was more worried about this meeting than he cared to admit. If he could get the cosmetics account back on solid ground it would go a long way toward shoring up the agency’s future—and putting an end to the board’s threats to sell it.

Silently, Nick cursed his father for selling shares of Thornton & Co. without giving him a chance to buy in. If Nick couldn’t get Thornton in the black again his old man would side with those vultures and sell the business he’d promised his grandfather he’d protect—and he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.

Nick thought back to all the times he’d looked for his father in the stands at football games and soccer matches, only to find his grandfather there instead. Remembered all the times his grandfather had been there to help him with his homework when his mom and dad had been missing in action. Hell, his grandfather had been the only one to show up for his high school graduation.

Saving the agency from his father was the least Nick could do to pay him back. Especially since it was the only thing his grandfather had ever asked him to do.

Nick sighed. It was going to take a long time to undo the damage his dad had done. He was going to have to take it one step at a time. First he’d get Goddess back. Then he’d reward himself with a night out with Jessie.

Ever since he’d held her in his arms at the wedding he’d wanted to see more of her. The sound of her laugh was embedded in his brain, tinkling to life at the most inappropriate of times—like when he was out with one of the never-ending stream of society women his mother kept fixing him up with.

He wondered what his mother would say if she saw him with Jessie? Probably something terrible.

There was no way Jessie would win approval from anyone in his family. From what Mark had told him, he knew she didn’t have the family ties or social standing that would make her a real person in their eyes. She was a nobody from somewhere in Michigan.

And he already knew what happened when he fell for a “nobody.” He got hurt and she got paid to go away.

No need to go through that again. Much better to keep things light. Flings were all he allowed himself—and something told him Jessie operated the same way.

“Nick?”

Nick blinked and realized Bob was staring back at him.

“What?”

“We’re here.”

“Here?”

“Yes. At the site of your hot meeting?”

“Oh. Right,” he said, shaking his head to clear it of thoughts of the redhead. “Thanks.”

“You want me to wait?”

“No. I don’t know how long this will take. Go home to your wife. I’ll catch a cab home.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks,” Bob said with a grin. “For the record, I’m looking forward to the day you’re in charge.”

“Me too, Bob. Me too.”

With that, he stepped out and headed into the sleek glass building.

Nick waved at the blond-haired receptionist as he strode through the marble foyer.

“Hey, Joan. Are they in the usual spot?”

“They are, indeed,” she said. “But don’t you have time to chat for a minute?”

“Sorry, babe,” he said, giving her his sexiest grin. “Maybe next time.”

“All right—fine. But I’ll hold you to it!”

He saluted and kept moving through the twelve-foot doors. She was cute, but if he ever had to listen to another one of her stories about Fred, her adorable cat, he might just poke his eyes out.

Still, he’d do whatever he had to to remain a favorite here. Perception was king in advertising, after all.

He looked down at his watch. Seven minutes past three. Crap. That meant the meeting had started without him. Still, it wouldn’t do to look as if he was in a hurry.

He stopped, took a deep breath, and opened the door, already preparing his apology.

But when he saw what or rather who was inside the sleek conference room, the words died in his throat.

“Jessie? What are you doing here?”

The redhead looked up from the computer screen she’d been sharing with the elegant gray-haired woman who was his client, a confused look on her face.

“Working. What are you doing here, Nick?”

“The same.”

Quickly, their client intervened. “I see you two already know each other?” she said. “How convenient.”

“Well,” Nick said, mind whirling. “We’ve met—but only socially.”

“I didn’t even know Nick was in advertising,” Jessie added.

“Oh. Well, you’re about to get to know each other a lot better,” Phyllis said. “Nick—Jessie’s company is our new digital partner. I set up this meeting so we could discuss what our strategy will be moving forward.”

With that, the pieces of the puzzle clicked. Jessie was in charge of the agency he’d been hoping to dissuade Goddess Cosmetics from using. Suddenly his resolution to do whatever it took to win back every scrap of the Goddess business, even if it meant destroying the other agency, was no longer a challenge he was looking forward to. Instead it was a problem he’d rather avoid.

Still, business had to come first.

Putting his dreams of having a hot affair with Jessie on the back burner, he took his seat at the table.

“Yes. About that … While I’m sure Jessie and her company have plenty of experience in the digital landscape, I don’t think it’s necessary to direct as much of your marketing budget online as she is recommending,” he said, launching into his carefully prepared spiel.

“Let me stop you right there, Nick,” Phyllis broke in. “My decision to rely on Roar is not up for discussion. We had Jessie’s people do a thorough analysis of the performance of our advertising campaigns over the last few years, and we have decided that something needs to change. The materials your company has delivered are quite frankly stale, and certainly aren’t getting the results we need.”

“How can you say our work is stale? The last campaign we did for you won awards from three different competitions!” Nick said, doing his best not look at the redheaded beauty sitting next to his client.

As long as he didn’t have to speak to Jessie he could pretend she was just a troublesome competitor, and not a woman he’d like to see naked.

Phyllis sighed and fiddled with her pen. “Yes, yes, that’s true. But you used the same old tired tactics. TV, radio, magazine ads … We don’t care what the advertising community thinks. We care what our customers think. And you’re not reaching them. To do that you’ve got to be on the internet. You’ve got to speak to them on those virtual networks—like Jessie, here, does.”

Jessie cleared her throat and glanced up for the first time since he’d sat down, discomfort shining in her blue eyes. “The term is social networks, Phyl,” she said. “And, yes, you do have to be there. Our research tells us—”

“I don’t care what your research says,” Nick broke in. “My agency has been handling Goddess’ advertising for fifty-six years. I think we know what your customers want, Phyllis.”

“You’re wrong,” Jessie said.

Pushing a button on her laptop, she got out of her chair and went to stand where she could point at the chart that had appeared on the projector screen.

“See this red line?” she asked, looking directly at him, challenge vibrating in every line of her body.

“Of course I do,” he answered, trying not to notice how well she filled out the lime-green sheath she was wearing.

“That represents the sales figures for the Goddess line over the last three years. As you can see, they’ve gone down twelve quarters in a row.”

“That’s not our fault—” he started.

“I wasn’t finished,” she snapped. A new slide replaced the old—this one a bar graph.

“This slide shows us how sales have been affected by advertising efforts. As you can see, profits actually went down after the launch of the last campaign—and stayed there. Obviously something isn’t working.”

Nick was silent for a moment. She had a point. He knew she did. But since he’d only gotten control of the Goddess account two months ago those numbers didn’t reflect what his team was capable of.

“I am aware of that. But I’ve hired a new creative team and we’re working on materials that will mitigate the problem.” He turned his attention to Phyllis. “Give us three months and I promise you you’ll see a big difference. The things we’re working on are like nothing you’ve ever seen before.”

“Good, good … I’m glad to hear it,” Phyllis said, a pained smile on her face. “But I don’t have three months to wait. We’re launching a new product line in six weeks, and I need a big campaign to introduce it to the marketplace.”

Nick’s heart plummeted. “New product line? Well. That’s interesting.” Thinking fast, he continued, “That’s not much time, but I’m sure my team can handle it. We’ll have to work night and day, but I am confident we can have some concepts for you to review within the week.”

“No need, no need. Jessie already has it figured out. Her team has come up with a dynamite campaign.”

Nick glanced her way, his blood boiling. She had just made his life—and his plan to get the agency back on track—a great deal more difficult. Taking a deep breath, he said, “Okay—good. You’ve got digital handled. But we’ll still need to get the print ads going, and TV, and probably some direct mail. You can’t launch a product without investing in traditional advertising.”

“All in good time,” his client said, leather creaking as she leaned back in her chair. “But there’s no need to rush. We’re going to put our entire marketing budget in the digital space for the launch. Then, after we’ve gotten a foothold there, you guys can do your stuff.”

Nick swallowed, unable to believe what he was hearing. “So you don’t want Thornton involved in the launch at all?”

“I think what she’s saying is that Roar is in charge and you should follow our lead,” Jessie said, squirming in her chair.

“You’re trusting Roar with this? No offense, but I think that’s a huge mistake.”

“Be that as it may, Jessie’s got the helm on this one,” Phyllis said, getting up from her chair. “Make sure whatever materials you eventually present are in line with what she’s doing. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to move on to my next meeting. I’m sure you two have plenty to talk about, so feel free to stay as long as you like.”

And with that she was gone.

Nick stared at his adversary, wishing she wasn’t so damn attractive. And that his hands didn’t itch to hold her.

Channeling the haughty air that was his birthright as a fourth generation advertising executive, he looked calmly across the table.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve gotten yourself into?”

Jessie blinked. How dared he address her like some sort of troublesome child?

He’d been driving her crazy since the second he walked in. That haughty sneer hadn’t left his face for more than two seconds. He certainly wasn’t acting anything like the man she met at Becky’s wedding.

And now he questioned her abilities?

“I think I just got a hold of a branch on your money tree—that’s what I think. And you don’t like me shaking it.”

He snorted.

“Don’t kid yourself. This is a drop in the bucket for my agency. Besides, Phyllis will wise up and come running back in no time. You don’t have what it takes to keep an account like this happy.”

Jessie stalked across the room until she stood directly in front of him.

“How do you know what I can handle? You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know I’ve never heard of an agency called Roar,” he said, leaning back in his chair with his arms behind his head, one side of his mouth curling up in a sneer. “And, since I pride myself on being familiar with every agency worth knowing in this city, I’m guessing you haven’t done much worth talking about.”

For the first time Jessie understood the expression “seeing red.” It was all she could do not to reach up and strangle him with his tie. But since getting mad was probably exactly what he wanted her to do, she did the opposite. Putting her hands behind her, she hopped up on the giant mahogany table and crossed her legs, making sure he got an eyeful of thigh.

Nick’s eyes widened and he swallowed loudly, his body giving away his sudden interest.

“That’s a very interesting theory,” she said. “But I think if you ask around you’ll find plenty of people talking about us. Perhaps you’re just out of touch? Like your agency.”

Nick looked at her with a predatory gaze and it was her turn to swallow loudly. Even knowing he was now the competition, a part of her still wanted him.

“Careful, Jessie. I might be ‘out of touch,’ as you say, but I could still crush you and your little agency without breaking a sweat.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he growled.

She slowly slid down off her perch, letting her skirt ride up in the process, and watched as he caught a ragged breath.

“Oh, I’m very good at tempting men. In fact there’s only one thing I do better,” she said as she sauntered back to her laptop.

“Which is …?”

She threw him a smile as she snapped the lid shut. “Kicking their butts with my advertising.”

She quickly stowed the computer in her bag, anxious to get away before her disappointment had a chance to catch up with her. It was just her luck that Prince Charming had turned out to be King of the Schmucks.

But when she turned to leave she found her way blocked by a solid wall of muscle. Damn, she hadn’t remembered he was so tall … or so deliciously built.

She tried to move past without touching him. “Excuse me. You’re in my way.”

“We haven’t finished our conversation. About what you’re getting into.”

She looked up at him, a retort on the tip of her tongue, but when he caught her gaze the words died in her throat. His eyes burned into hers, silently communicating an encyclopedia’s worth of knowledge about want and need and straight-up danger.

She stared at him helplessly, trying to think of something that wasn’t, Kiss me now, you hot, sexy—

“Getting into?” she asked, trying unsuccessfully to keep the squeak from her voice.

“Yes. You’re in the big league now. The stakes are bigger. The sharks are hungrier. You sure you’re up for the challenge?”

Forcing herself to step back, she swallowed, then answered, “I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life.”

He opened his mouth to answer, but before he could Phyllis bustled in.

“Oh, good, you two are still here,” she said, oblivious to the mood in the room. “As Nick already knows, Goddess is sponsoring a charity ball tomorrow. Two seats have just opened up at my table and I’d like you to take them.”

“I’d be happy to take them off your hands,” Jessie said quickly. “I’m sure I can find someone to come with me.”

“No, you don’t understand,” Phyllis said. “I want you to attend the ball together. The higher-ups are worried about the direction we’re taking our advertising in. The two of you presenting a united front would go a long way toward allaying their fears.”

Jessie looked at Nick, unsure of what to say. While going to a ball with him had seemed like a dream come true just a couple of hours ago, now it seemed nightmare-worthy.

“I’d be happy to accompany Jessie to the ball,” Nick said with a smooth smile. “After a couple of glasses of champagne she might tell me the secrets of her success.”

Jessie conjured up a hollow laugh. “Not likely, but it’ll be fun to see you try and get them out of me!”

Phyllis nodded. “Great. It’s all set, then. I’ll see you two tomorrow … at the ball!”

“Looking forward to it,” Jessie said, crossing her fingers behind her back.

After Phyllis exited, Nick turned to her with a grim smile. “Pick you up at seven?”

She shook her head. “No. I’ll meet you there.”

“Bad idea. People will notice if we don’t arrive together.”

Jessie’s temper flared. How dared he tell her what to do? “I’m not sure I care.”

Nick scowled. “Well, I do. Unlike you, I’m willing to do whatever it takes to keep my client happy. And she wants us to put up a united front. So I’ll pick you up at seven.”

Then he turned on his heel and left, not waiting for her reply.

Jessie’s heart pounded and the blood roared in her veins. How dared he be so presumptuous? So controlling? He was turning out to be everything she hated about corporate advertising.

Stupid man. She hoped he was feeling good about his little victory—there was no way he was going to get another one.