Читать книгу Living the Fantasy - Kathy Lyons - Страница 8

KEN DIDN’T KNOW WHETHER to be depressed or dive headlong into a Desperate Act. It was obvious that he had erred badly. Having finally found his queen, he’d assumed she was a model (Mistake number one), stalked her like a psycho creep (Mistake number two), declared he “wanted her” and tried to buy her for a weekend or more (Mistake number three), and then when he’d finally realized his error, he lost the opportunity to explain himself (Mistake number four). Marilyn had whisked the woman away only to return fifteen minutes later to negotiate the woman’s fee as if she were bartering the crown jewels.

And in all of that, he got the distinct feeling that his Guinevere—a Ms. Ali Flowers—had no interest in being a model. So now he was faced with two choices. He could either give up entirely—not really an option. Or he could try again with Ali. But how? What to say to explain that he wasn’t creepy or insane? And how to convince a hospital PR rep to quit her job to come work for him for a summer? Because he could pay her well, but probably not that well.

He was still chewing on that thought when Marilyn finally realized he wasn’t going to negotiate any fee until he talked to Ali again. She clicked her teeth shut and pushed up from the table. “I’ll be right back,” she snapped, then tugged on her short jacket and stomped out.

Which left him sitting in the conference room with Paul, his vice president of marketing, while staring morosely at the table. Fortunately, Paul knew just how to talk to him.

“So, you’re sure this is the woman?”

Ken nodded without even taking his chin out of his hand.

“No one else will do?”

Ken shook his head.

“And she’s not even a model.”

Ken shrugged.

“So basically, we’re screwed.”

“Unless I can charm her into quitting her job for us.”

“Uh-huh. Screwed.” Then Paul paused. Ken knew what was coming. Paul was tall, dark and baby-faced cute. Not exactly handsome, but a man who looked and dressed the part of a marketing executive. And if one of them was going to charm Ali, then it would probably be Paul. “Do you want—” Paul began.

“No. Absolutely not. You stay quiet.” Both of them were startled by the vehemence in his words.

“Ooo-kay.”

“Let me sink or swim on my own here.”

Another long pause. “You know you’re not being entirely rational, right?”

Ken had no response to that. Of course he wasn’t being rational. But apparently, he didn’t care. Especially as Marilyn’s office opened up and out she came with one sharp-taloned hand gripping his Guinevere’s arm.

Ken shot to his feet, yet another mistake (number five) as his chair nearly flopped to the floor behind him. Fortunately, Paul had fast hands and grabbed it. Get a grip! Ken ordered himself. But it was hard to hear his own thoughts over the pounding of his heart.

The conference-room door opened and the ladies entered, Guinevere first. Ken searched her face, hoping for a clue, but he saw nothing that reassured him. Her face was composed, her eyes were alert, but there was a general air of wariness about her. And no wonder. She probably thought he was a total sleaze.

Time to start being charming. He pulled on a smile.

“Hello, Miss Flowers. I’d like to—”

“Flores.”

“—apologize. I must have sounded like a…What?”

“Flores. My name is Ali Flores.”

“Oh.” He could have sworn Marilyn said Flowers. Great, now he was really screwing up. “Um, I apologize. For getting your name wrong and for acting like a lunatic earlier.”

She smiled, a soft curving of her lips that did not show teeth. It was a reserved smile, and he found he liked her all the more for it. It softened her face without bowling him over with a polished exterior. It made her feel more real, and he found himself relaxing at the sight of it. She was a normal person. Hopefully, she understood that he was a normal guy—one who made mistakes.

Then Marilyn had to spoil the mood by hauling out a chair and strong-arming Ali into the seat. “Excellent! Now that that’s out of the way, let’s sit down and talk details.”

Ken bristled. He had a Neanderthal reaction to seeing anyone manhandling his queen, even if the man-handler was a woman. But before he could say anything, Paul leaped into the breech. Great, his employee got to be the hero before Ken could do more than glare.

“You know, Marilyn,” Paul said, “I believe I need to go over the contract with you in detail. We’re not signing anything until I get a few questions answered.”

“But what about—”

Paul took Marilyn’s arm and physically pulled her off Ali. “I’m in charge of the contract part. My boss is in charge of the campaign and the company as a whole. So you and I are going to talk turkey somewhere else. Now.” Then he all but shoved Marilyn out of the room. He was half a step out of the door when he somehow managed to grab hold of Elisa. “You, too,” he said. Then he glanced back at Ken and shot him a wink. “Sink or swim, buddy.” Then he was gone.

Ken released a slow breath, beyond grateful to finally have Ali in the room alone. But right on the heels of that relief was the knowledge that it was all up to him now.

He tried another smile. “Okay, so now they’re gone.”

She nodded, but didn’t speak.

“So we’re clear, I wasn’t trying to hire you as a prostitute or anything earlier. I thought you were a model. I was trying to book you—”

“I know,” she interrupted. “I figured that out.”

“Oh, good. Because I was afraid…” He swallowed. Stay on track. “So I’d like to hire you as a model. But you work at a hospital. Then Marilyn said…well, she said your name was Flowers.”

Ali grimaced. “She wants me to change my name.”

“Don’t you dare!” Then he flushed, belatedly realizing that he had no right to tell her to do anything with her name one way or the other. “I mean, Flores is a great name. And Flowers is a stupid one.”

Her lips curved a little more and her eyes seemed to sparkle. “Don’t you like flowers?”

Was she teasing him? He didn’t know and so he didn’t know how to respond. “Um, well, sure, they’re pretty and all. And you are, too, so, you know, Flowers would be okay if you really want it. But I don’t think you should change who you are. Unless you want to change your name. I mean—”

She laughed, that soft chuckle that pressed every damn happy button he had. Then she pressed her hand to her mouth and her eyes widened. “Oh, sorry,” she gasped.

“For what?”

“I, um, I shouldn’t have laughed like that.”

“No, you should have. I’m falling all over myself today. I’m sorry. I’m trying to impress you and doing such a damn bad job of it.”

Again her laughter bubbled up, though he could tell that she was still trying to hold it back. “That’s so funny,” she murmured.

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” he drawled. Usually when he tried to impress a girl. Once again he was choosing sink over swim.

“No, no!” she exclaimed. “It’s funny that you’re trying to impress me.”

He frowned. “Why wouldn’t I try to impress you? You’re beautiful and charming. And I want to hire you to be my Guinevere.”

She sobered and her expression showed true confusion. “But why? Why would you want me?”

And wasn’t that just the question of the hour? Paul had asked that, Marilyn, too. He gave the same answer that he’d given them. “Because you fit the part. You’re real.” He gestured to the stack of model photos on the table. “They’re not.”

She tilted her head, and he nearly lost himself in the curve of her neck as it met with a nice jaw, swooping up into a perfect shell ear.

“I bet if you’d met them, they’d be real, too.”

He snorted. “I have met them. Every single one of them paraded before me all morning. I only have to talk to them for half a minute to realize that they’re…well, they’re just like Marilyn.”

Her eyes widened. “Which part? Mad Marilyn where she decides my name should be Flowers? Or Scary Marilyn where she tells me I’ve got a dead-end job and that there’s nothing special about me unless I take classes from her and lose weight?”

“Don’t you dare!” Then again, he remembered that he didn’t have the right to tell her what to do and not do. “I mean,” he hastily amended, “don’t take classes from her. She’ll turn you into one of them.” He touched the nearest model photo and pushed it to the opposite side of the table.

“But I should lose weight?”

“What? No! You’re fine! And I can’t wait to see you in a corset.” Oh my God, had he just said that? “I mean…I think you’d look great in a…but not in a skanky way, you know. It’s the costume…And you’re beautiful in just what you’re wearing.”

She laughed. “I got it! Guinevere wears a corset.”

Thank God. She could understand his babbling. That was a plus as he seemed to be babbling a lot right now. And he really needed to stop. So he took a deep breath and decided to go for broke.

Sink or swim.

“Okay, here’s the truth.”

She looked up at him, her eyes dark, her skin flawless, and her lips—wow, those lips. He kept getting lost in looking at her mouth. And so, while he was still dazzled, his words began to flow.

“Back in high school there were two girls. Well, there were a lot of girls, but there were these two in particular. Stephanie was flawless. Tall, blonde, volleyball star and a mouth that was always dewy-moist like in those lipstick commercials.”

She blinked, and then she absently licked her own lips. His groin tightened at the sight. Her lipstick had mostly worn off, but that just made her more natural in his mind. No cosmetic mask, so to speak. Just her, clean and pure.

“Did you win her?” she asked.

“Geek me? No. But I did hang out around her at a couple parties, listening at the fringe, trying to fit in.”

Her lips curved. “I know it well.”

“And then one day I went from her crowd to the food table. I was munching on some chips when I started talking to Heidi. She was on the volleyball team, too, but wasn’t the star. She had a scar right here.” He pointed to a place right above his lip. “We started talking movies, then chemistry class, then philosophy.” He snorted. “Well, philosophy the way two sophomores in high school would.”

“How long did you two date?”

“That’s just the point. We didn’t. Not for another year and a half. But suddenly, I realized the difference between beauty and substance. Stephanie’s beauty ended up just leaving a bad taste in my mouth because it wasn’t real. But Heidi had substance. I could talk with her. We ended up being friends and that was so much better than being attracted by Stephanie’s flawless beauty.” He gestured to the pile of photos. “These girls are just another pinup, but you’re someone I can talk to. I could do it in the hall, and I can do it here. You have no idea how powerful that is. It means the world to me and will to the kids who are going to buy my product.”

She stared at him and he just looked back. Did she understand? “But actually, I’m kind of shy.”

He smiled. “I know. It’s like the difference between a whisper and a shout. I’ll tune out a shout. Everyone shouts. But a whisper? Now I’m intrigued. Now I’m leaning in to hear more.”

She blinked, and he wondered if he’d caught her. She’d certainly captured him. It wasn’t just her unconscious beauty, which certainly grabbed him. It was the way she bit her lip when she was thinking. The way she listened when he spoke. And the way she thought about what he said without just throwing back what she thought he wanted to hear.

“Let me explain what I’m planning.” He pulled a series of screen captures out of his folder and pushed them to her. “We’re launching this game.” He pointed at the cover image of Winning Guinevere.

“Wow. She’s gorgeous.” She traced the woman’s face with a long, tapered finger.

Looking at the design, he made a quick decision. “I’m changing the cover design. Blondes are overdone.”

She glanced at him but didn’t comment. So he took a deep breath and plunged into his pitch.

“Winning Guinevere is a take on the King Arthur legend turned video game. Players can be anyone in the legend they want—knights, fair maidens, Merlin, King Arthur or Lancelot. They can even be Mordred if they’re so inclined.”

“The betraying bad guy?”

Ken nodded. “He’s there to muck up the works, so to speak. But the core of the story is between Arthur and Lancelot. Who will Guinevere choose?” He lifted the page to show her another picture. “That’s you. Guinevere.”

She peered down at it. “I don’t look anything like her.”

“But you feel like her. And besides, I’m changing her look to reflect you.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re not serious.”

“I am serious. I can’t express how important it is to have the right Guinevere. She will make the campaign that should launch the product that—” He cut off his words. He probably shouldn’t tell her that this one product could make or break his whole company.

“And you think I’m Guinevere.”

“I know it.”

She looked back at the picture in front of her. Then taking a deep breath, she turned the page, looking deeper at the product specifications. “The point of the game is to win…me?”

“You. Your love. Your gifts.”

“Seriously?”

“That takes on very specific meanings depending on the player’s score. Plus, if they work very hard and do very well, then they get a discount on the purchase of Winning II.”

“And kids will do that? Spend hours on the game just to get a game bonus that isn’t even real?”

“And a sales pitch for the next game. Yes, they will.”

She looked skeptical.

“Trust me. They will because the game is that good. But I have to get them playing the game in the first place. I have to get them started, and I have to show them you.”

“Me.”

“Yes, you. Beautiful, sexy as hell, but approachable. Someone who would bestow royal gifts. Someone who understands them and is worth the time and money.”

“But I don’t understand them. I don’t—”

He waved that aside. “You do know them, you just don’t realize it yet.” He huffed out his breath on a sigh. “Look, I know this doesn’t make any kind of logical sense, but I know what I’m talking about.” At least he prayed he did. “You’re Guinevere, and I’d like to hire you to spend the summer with me.”

“With you?”

He flushed, his mind going to all the wrong things. “I mean, on tour with the whole crew. It’s an entire summer of buses and hotels. You’ll get time off, I swear, but it’ll be in a different city each week.”

He pulled out the schedule to show it to her. Not surprisingly, her eyes widened in surprise. “That’s a lot of dates.”

“Like I said, at least one every week. We do a different step in the story in every city. We start with Arthur and Guinevere getting married at the first stop, but with Lancelot in the wings. Then the next week there’s affection from Lancelot. Next Merlin plays a hand. After that, there’s Mordred causing problems. It builds throughout the summer until there’s a showdown between Arthur and Lancelot.”

“Who wins?”

“You’re Guinevere. You get to decide.” Then he flashed her a grin. “Well, actually we’ll see how the fan choices go. We’ll be blogging and getting fan commentary throughout the summer. In the end, the fans choose for you.”

She smiled up at him. “That sounds like a lot of fun.”

“It is. Exhausting but fun.” He pushed another page forward and prayed that she didn’t flinch. “This is the pay schedule. We cover all expenses and travel. I’m sorry, but my company is being cut to the bone to do this launch. I’m afraid I can’t offer more than this.” It was a lie. For her, he’d pay a lot more. He’d find the money somewhere, somehow. For her.

She nodded slowly, chewing on her lower lip as she looked at everything.

“And, um, I’m sorry, but I think the agency will take a cut of that. Marilyn will insist on that. Even if you don’t have a contract with her right now, I did meet you here.”

“Yeah,” she said softly. “I can’t see Marilyn giving up her piece of this.”

He sighed. After agency fees, the dollars weren’t great. Not bad for a summer actor. Good pay, actually. But he had no idea what she made at the hospital. He probably shouldn’t have reminded her about the agency fees. Let her think she was getting the whole amount so she had more incentive to say yes. But he didn’t want to lie to her, even by omission. Still, he was very aware that he might just have blown it.

“You understand that this is all take-home pay,” he said. “We’re covering all expenses.”

She nodded.

He waited. There was nothing more to say, but God he wanted to. He wanted to beg her to say yes. And as he sat there watching her, seeing the curve of her face, the fullness of her breasts and the feminine arch to her back, he started wanting other things, too.

She flipped through the pages and started reading the contract, her lips pursed as she concentrated. He looked at her lips and starting thinking of other things. What she might also do with those lips. Of what he could do to her to erase the furrows on her forehead. Of what they might do together that had nothing to do with contracts and everything to do with a whole lot of naked wonderfulness in bed.

That’s where his mind went and it was wrong, wrong, wrong! He was her employer—or he wanted to be. So he forced his thoughts down a more professional track.

It took him a while.

“So,” he finally asked. “Is this enough to make you quit your job at the hospital?”

She shook her head slowly. “No.”

His heart sank.

“But for a summer leave of absence? Yes.”