Campaign for Love (8 page)

 

 

When she turned off the TV at eleven-thirty, she acknowledged that
everything she couldn't feel for Jerry, after years of friendship
and
sporadic dating, she could and did feel for Quentin Pierce after
only a
few days as his assistant. Within a few minutes, in fact, she
admitted
with a groan.

 

 

Her mind was vaguely troubled as she went through the automatic
rituals
of bed-time. She had a fleeting thought about having to kiss a lot
of
toads before you find the handsome prince. How could she be sure
she'd
found her prince on the first try?

 

 

She would certainly intercept Jerry's next goodnight kiss. She owed
herself that much. That was as far as she could plan. The rest she
would have to play by ear.

 

 

She fell into a troubled sleep filled with dreams of opening herself
up
to a man, to a masculine man like Quentin, only to face rejection.

 

 

 

CHAPTER TEN

 

 

The next day Suzanna got up early to go through her wardrobe
carefully
for her luncheon with Quentin and their clients from Imperial Foods.

 

 

Suzy was both looking forward to and dreading the meeting. She had
come
up with the idea of running a series of ads to be placed in women's
magazines, especially those aimed at busy moms on the go.

 

 

Featured would be Imperial's "Quik-Bix," their unbaked, refrigerated
biscuits in a tube. Suzanna, who liked to cook, but also used lots
of
short-cuts, had been using the product for a number of years, but
almost never the way they were meant to be used.

 

 

She had amazed Quentin with the number and variety of ways she
dressed
them up into something totally remarkable. It was his guess that
Imperial would be equally impressed.

 

 

Her closet finally yielded a figure-concealing yet becoming worsted
wool suit of forest green with a straight skirt and boxy jacket. Her
best ivory lace blouse had a froth of ruffles at the neck.

 

 

She thought about it for all of two seconds, then decided to leave
off
the fake glasses. In addition to the pale pink lip gloss she
permitted
herself, she used a mere suggestion of green eye shadow and brush of
mascara. She wore her hair up, but loosened slightly with a few
tendrils in front of her ears, giving her face a softer look. A
glance
in the mirror told her that Quentin would think she had made an
extra
effort to look her best, but she was not too obviously transformed
for
him to worry.

 

 

Suzanna knew she had made the right decision on clothes and makeup
as
soon as she arrived at the office.

 

 

For once he was already seated at his desk. "Good morning," he said,
smiling. "That's a very becoming color. You should wear it more
often -
and leave off the glasses more often, for that matter."

 

 

"Good morning, and thank you."

 

 

Suzy smiled demurely, remembering to keep her lips closed and her
eyes
downcast. She had no way of knowing that her look was the antithesis
of
what she'd tried to achieve. Her enigmatic smile and lowered lashes
were unbelievably seductive to most men, as her friend Elsa had
warned
her.

 

 

She saw Quentin frown slightly, reach for his attaché case,
and
then rise to his feet like one in a daze. He followed her into her
office as if mesmerized.

 

 

Suzy put her desk between them safely, and sat down.

 

 

But Quentin put his case on the tabletop, then picked up one of the
chairs and carried it around to her side. He opened his case,
cleared
his throat and said, "Before you get busy, I thought we ought to go
over our client's advertising program so that we'll both know what
we're doing."

 

 

"Good idea," said Suzanna briskly, trying not to show him just how
unnerved she was by his sitting so close.

 

 

He took out a dozen layouts, spread them out in front of her and
said,
"I think display did a great job on these. I know our client will be
impressed."

 

 

"I hope so. How much of what I gave you have you passed on?"

 

 

He shook his head. "Not a thing, except that my assistant uses their
Quik-Bix all the time, and has a surprising number of recipes for
them.
That's why they wanted to meet you at lunch today."

 

 

He pushed the layouts over to her, then moved his chair closer as he
went over each one point by point.

 

 

He was close enough so that Suzy could feel his body warmth and
smell
the manly combination of scents, after-shave, soap and hair gel, and
something that was distinctly Quentin, a sort of musky aura that
aroused Suzanna's newly-awakened desires.

 

 

She became aware of his knee touching her leg, whether by accident
or
design she had no way of knowing, but she forced herself not to pull
away. She also forced herself not to rub against the pressure.

 

 

The trouble was, with him so close, she only half heard what he was
saying. His knee, his voice, his hand that occasionally brushed
hers,
all served to distract her until she felt like she couldn't string
an
intelligent sentence together. She had an almost overpowering urge
to
reach out and feel his thigh. She could see his hard muscles
outlined
even through the winter-weight fabric of his trousers.

 

 

She swallowed and licked her dry lips just as Quentin put the papers
back into his case and clicked it shut.

 

 

He looked purposefully into her eyes as her gaze met his, and gave
her
a tentative smile that seemed to enclose them in a circle of
intimacy.

 

 

Abruptly he got to his feet with a muttered, "Damn!"

 

 

Then, surprisingly he said, "Suzanna! What am I going to do with
you?
Another look like that and I'll forget the promise I made to you
last
night."

 

 

"If it's the one I think you mean, I have no intention or holding
you
to it, Quentin."

 

 

He grinned and shook his head. "You aren't making it easy for me.
But
luckily for you, this isn't the time or the place. You've been with
us
for a short time now, but the thing is, I don't think I know you any
better now than when you started. Sometimes I think I know less."

 

 

She shrugged one shoulder. "There's not much to know. I think you
know
me at least as well as I know you."

 

 

"Touché! But there's a lot more to you than meets the eye. I
hope some day you'll feel you know me well enough to share your
secret,
whatever it may be."

 

 

"That doesn't seem very likely, does it, after what you said last
night," she observed quietly.

 

 

"As a matter of fact, it does," he replied as he tucked the last of
the
layouts into his case. "We'll be thrown together more than ever now
that we've gotten that new cosmetic account."

 

 

"I don't understand. What cosmetic account, and why should it make a
difference?"

 

 

"The account is Femme Fatale and, among other things, we will have
to
go out on location, probably somewhere in the Bahamas, while they
take
stills and film for their new campaign which we will be laying out
for
them. You'll be free to go, I hope?"

 

 

She nodded, thrilled at the prospect for more than professional
reasons. "Oh, absolutely. I have no ties."

 

 

"Good. Now I'd better get some work done before we meet those
clients
for lunch. Friends?" he asked, extending his hand.

 

 

"Of course. Always," she answered as she took his hand in both of
hers
and gave him a warm, though not dazzling, smile.

 

 

"There!" he exclaimed. "You've done it again with that innocent,
almost
shy smile that still manages to be alluringly full of promises and
possibilities."

 

 

"Is that bad?" asked Suzanna mischievously.

 

 

Quentin looked at her intently, took a step that brought him within
touching distance, then, in one swift, unexpected motion he swept
her
into his arms long enough for Suzanna to feel his arousal. Then with
one mere peck of a kiss, he released her as suddenly as he had
enveloped her, barely giving her time to enjoy her feeling of power.
Then he was gone.

 

 

Her legs were so weak that the quick release almost caused her to
fall.
She reached for the desk and held on until she had regained her
self-control.

 

 

Then she headed for the bathroom, where she dashed cold water on her
face and let it run over her wrists. It helped a bit, but Suzy knew
enough to know that what she really needed was a cold shower.

 

 

 

CHAPTER ELEVEN

 

 

The rest of the morning passed quickly, and almost before she knew
it,
Quentin was standing in the doorway saying, "It's almost time to
leave.
Are you ready?"

 

 

Suzy went to get her fake fur coat and hat, standard equipment for
New
York's autumn chill.

 

 

"I'll be right with you," she said as she slipped the cape over her
shoulders and put the hat on with a brief glance in the mirror in
her
handbag.

 

 

The soft faux mink was a bit too becoming, but it was worth it to
see
the look of admiration in Quentin's eyes.

 

 

As they left through his office, he took a vicuna topcoat from the
rack
and shrugged into it as they passed through the outer office.

 

 

Sharon looked up in surprise as Quentin said, "Lunch with a client,
Ms.
Welsh. You can take an extra half hour for lunch yourself."

 

 

"See you later," said Suzanna.

 

 

On the way down in the elevator, Suzanna could see Quentin taking
inventory on her, probably because he wanted her to make a good
impression on a valuable client. Almost as if he read her mind, he
said, "You look extraordinarily attractive today, Suzanna."

 

 

"Thanks. I used to have a grandmother who said, 'Fine feathers make
fine birds.'"

 

 

Quentin threw his head back and laughed, taking Suzy completely by
surprise.

 

 

"Smart woman, your grandmother. But it's more than just fine
feathers."

 

 

"Well, grandmother had another one that might apply. 'A little
powder
and a little paint makes you look like what you ain't.'"

 

 

"Your grandma must have been a funny lady."

 

 

"She was. When I know you better I'll tell you some others."

 

 

"I can hardly wait," he said with a broad grin. "You know, I just
realized that this is the first time I've seen the lighter side of
you.
You're usually so dead serious and up-tight that I didn't know you
had
a funny side. I like it."

 

 

She wrinkled her nose. "You make me sound like an old prune."

 

 

"Not at all, just very, well, restrained.

 

 

Once they reached street level, Quentin ushered her to the curb and
hailed a cab. Because it was a beautiful dry day, they didn't have
long
to wait.

 

 

In a short time they were at Four Seasons and the Maitre d' was
asking
them about their reservation. Quentin gave his name and the names of
the other two members of their party, and then a waiter showed them
to
their table.

 

 

Suzanna and Quentin, first to arrive, sat down and ordered drinks
while
they were waiting. The ice had been broken and the thaw set in. They
started the getting acquainted process by exchanging personal
statistics.

 

 

"Do you have a family?" Quentin asked.

 

 

"Yes," answered Suzanna. "My parents are retirees living in Dallas.
You?"

 

 

"The same, except mine are in Phoenix."

 

 

The small talk continued with roots, schools and childhood
reminiscences. Between the vodka martinis and the confidences, the
atmosphere soon warmed to mellow. Suzanna and Quentin were both a
bit
sorry to see the waiter approaching with their clients. Quentin
stood
to make the introductions.

 

 

"Ms. Sills, may I present Cyrus Reed, President and Chairman of the
Board of Imperial Foods. This is their advertising executive, Barry
Jarvis. This is my assistant, Suzanna Sills."

 

 

Suzanna offered her hand. Both gave her a firm handshake and a
cordial,
"How do you do?"

 

 

Cyrus Reed was a well-built man, about fifty-five, with iron gray
hair
and a ruddy complexion. As he took a seat across from Suzanna, he
positively beamed. "I can't wait to hear some of your ideas. I've
heard
lots of good things about your work from Quentin."

 

 

"Thank you," she replied. "It was easy, really. It just happens that
I've used your Quik-Bix for years, and I'm always coming up with new
ways to serve them. When I told Mr. Pierce, he said you'd be
interested."

 

 

"That's a very fortunate coincidence for our company," said Barry
Jarvis. "I'm sure you'll come up with some more magic for our other
products as well when the time comes."

 

 

"As a matter of fact, I have some already."

 

 

They all smiled indulgently at her, and for once she felt the belle
of
the ball without having worry that it was because of her beauty.
This
time all the men wanted her brains. It was a novel feeling.