All's Fair in Lust & War (6 page)

She murmured her assent, but when he looked at her he could tell her brain was busily working on another problem. Pulling her shirt over her head, she paced over to the whiteboard on the wall.

“We’ve been going about this all wrong,” she said. “Women aren’t going to buy our yogurt just because we recognize their awesomeness. That doesn’t do anything for them. They’re going to buy it if it solves a problem for them. So if the problem is insecurity, we need to position ourselves as a solution.”

He watched as she scratched silently on the board with a red marker. Her butt jiggled ever so slightly with the movement, and he found himself wanting to feel the weight of it in his palms again.

She turned to look at him, triumph lighting her eyes.

“I’ve got it. Check this out. It could be something like, ‘Working mom guilt weighing you down? Take an Eden moment and believe.’”

Mark’s brain kicked into gear. “Maybe. Or what about, ‘Eden. Your shortcut to a more perfect you.’”

Becky wrote it down.

“Good thought. But what about...?”

And they were off and running.

* * *

The next time Mark looked up, the sun was setting.

“Wow. We’ve been at this all day,” he said. “You hungry?”

Her stomach growled loudly in response. Laughing, she said, “I guess so!”

“How about I take you out somewhere? My treat.”

“I don’t think so,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’ve got laundry and stuff to do tonight.”

“Oh, come on. Laundry on a Saturday night? You’re not fifty. I’ll take you back to my place for dessert,” he said, winking suggestively.

She smiled sadly. “Mark, what happened before...it can’t happen again. The situation’s too complicated. Besides, I don’t date people—”

“You don’t date people you work with. I know. You keep saying that. But who said anything about dating?”

She flushed. “I don’t do what we did this afternoon with coworkers either.”

“We were enjoying each other. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“You say that now. But if we keep it up before long there will be feelings, then hurt feelings, and eventually heartbreak. I don’t do heartbreak,” she answered.

Mark felt himself getting frustrated. “You don’t do heartbreak. I don’t do relationships. So we should be well matched.”

“I don’t think so...” she said, looking everywhere except at him.

Mark gently turned her to face him.

“Listen to me. This situation
is
complicated. We don’t need to add sexual frustration to the mix. After all, we didn’t get anywhere today until after we let that go. Right?”

She gave a slight nod.

“And you have to agree the sex is amazing. Probably some of the best I’ve ever had.”

She looked up sharply. “Really?” she said.

“Really.”

“I thought it was just... I mean you’ve been with so many... And I...um...haven’t...”

“Becky?”

“What?”

“You’re amazing. Period.”

She smiled, her cheeks flushing pink. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. So let’s just agree to enjoy each other until this—whatever this is—is over and decided. Then we’ll go our separate ways. No harm, no foul.”

She looked at him. “Do you really think it can be that easy?”

“I know it can,” he said. “I won’t let it be any other way.”

She stared at him for a long moment, an unreadable expression on her face. “I’ll think about it,” she said.

He nodded, knowing that was probably the best answer he could hope for at the moment.

“Don’t think too long,” he growled.

She just smiled in response, blowing him a kiss as she walked out through the door.

He knew she’d eventually agree to his proposition. The chemistry they had was too incredible for either of them to walk away. And as long as they kept it to the physical realm no one would get hurt.

Heck, he didn’t have enough cash to make her want anything more permanent anyway. She might not
seem
interested in his wallet, but he knew from experience that even the sweetest girls were ultimately moved by money.

For the first time he found himself wishing they weren’t.

FIVE

“This is good.
Really good,” David said after Becky and Mark had pitched their concept to him. “Which one of you came up with it?”

Nice try,
Becky thought. She wasn’t going to let him knock one of them out of the competition that easily.

“It was pretty organic,” she said out loud. “I couldn’t tell you which one of us nailed the final line. Could you, Mark?”

“No, not really,” he said. “We make a surprisingly great team.”

“Good, good—glad to hear it,” David said, leaning back in his chair, hands behind his head. “Now we just have to decide how to proceed.”

“When is the presentation?” Becky asked.

“October thirtieth at ten a.m.”

“Oh. Good. We’ve got some time, then,” she said. More than three weeks, as a matter of fact.

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 kind 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.