The Pitch: City Love 2 (12 page)

“You don’t seem very happy about it.”

It was early Saturday morning and I sat next to John dripping water onto the sand. We were staring out at the gentle rolling surf.

“I am,” I told him, “I’m just fucking terrified.”

I wasn’t quite sure what had possessed me to call John after my phone call with Paul the previous night. The desire to prove to myself that I could do something terrifying, like riding a surfboard, suddenly seemed very urgent. So far it had only been one hour and I’d been dumped more times than I could count. That I was still alive was strangely comforting.

I watched John sifting the sand through his toes. “If you weren’t scared right now, you wouldn’t be making progress,” he suggested.

“I know, but right now I’m feeling overwhelmed,” I confessed. I’d told him all about our new account win and the issues with Paul working on the account. I’d even told him about my impromptu kiss.

“It won’t be so bad once you’re in the midst of it. Right now you’re staring down the barrel of it, not knowing how it’s going to work out.”

He was right. I turned to him. His long ebony hair fell in loose waves past his ears and he looked very much the surfer. He also looked very much a man, with a strong jawline set against prominent cheekbones. Scarlett continued to claim she wasn’t interested in younger men, but John didn’t seem younger to me. He was mature and astute, and very level-headed.

“What?” He glanced at me uncertainly.

I shook my head. “I was just thinking Scarlett’s rule about younger men is ridiculous,” I told him.

“Tell me about it. That woman needs psychiatric help.”

“Yet you still can’t get her out of your head?”

“Like a disease.”

“You make it sound so romantic,” I said, and laughed.

John turned to grin at me, but his smile held frustration. “What’s wrong with me?”

I placed a hand on his arm, which was warm to the touch. “To be fair, Scarlett is a very alluring woman. Do you think it might be a case of wanting what you can’t have, which makes it all the more enticing?”

John frowned and studied the sand, his brow creased in concentration. “I’ve already considered that, but no such luck. Every time I try to put her from my mind I catch myself thinking how amazing she is.” He looked at me, his dark brown eyes earnest. “She’s all bite and bravado and she doesn’t trust anyone. When I tell her I think she’s good at her job, she scoffs and insults me. When I look at her artwork and tell her she’s talented, she makes it into a joke. It drives me insane but I still can’t help seeing the good in her.”

“You unnerve her,” I said slowly, the realization dawning. “She puts a lot of effort into the bravado and you’re looking right past it. I’m surprised she’s still taking your calls.”

“What a load of shit. You’re one of her closest girlfriends. Don’t tell me you don’t see past her act and call her on it? She’s still friends with you.”

I bit my lip while I pondered his statement. “You’re right. We do see past it, but we don’t call her on it. Not very often anyway. It’s a kind of silent agreement between us.”

“Well, she needs to grow up.”

I smiled. “You’re probably right.”

John let out a tortured groan and ran a hand through his wet hair. “Sorry. How did we get onto this? Aren’t I supposed to be teaching you how to surf?”

“Probably. If it makes you feel any better, I’ve no idea how I’m supposed to work with Paul on this massive new account while he pretends he doesn’t have feelings for me.”

“From what I can tell so far, you’re pretty good at keeping it professional.”

“You’ve been talking to Scarlett.”

“Maybe. But I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Yes.”

“So keep it professional then. Wait for him to make the next move.”

I cast my gaze over the ocean. “How does that work?” I asked. “The man is expert at pretending he has no feelings. I’ve made my feelings clear and look where that got me.”

“If he’s not man enough to make a move and admit his feelings, he doesn’t deserve you.”

I went silent, burying my toes in the sand while I reflected on John’s frank advice. I really valued his honesty and openness. I suddenly had the urge to return the favor. “Can I give you some advice about Scarlett in return?”

“Sure.”

“Resist her.”

“Resist Scarlett?”

“Yes. Tell her you’ve reconsidered and you’re not comfortable doing the nude session.”

“I’m
not
comfortable doing the nude session,” John admitted.

“So don’t do it. And stop letting her boss you around. Would you let anyone else treat you that way?”

“No,” he said, sullenly.

“And when she contacts you next for a favor or request, tell her you’re busy.”

John swallowed, most likely contemplating the fallout from a Scarlett denied scenario.

“She’ll live,” I said.

“She’ll probably hate me.”

“So what? It’s about time she realized good looking, decent men are worth going after.”

He frowned at me. “Aren’t you one of her best friends?”

“Yes. I’m trying to do her a favor – and make sure you don’t get hurt in the process.”

John looked out at the water for a long time and when he turned back to me his eyes were determined. “Alright. I’ll stop letting Scarlett push me around if you keep things with Paul professional until he makes the next move. We deserve better. It’s time to get on with our lives.”

He extended a hand and I shook it.

“Deal,” I said.

*

As it turned out, getting on with our lives was remarkably easy.

I barely had time to breathe once the account with ACB kicked off. In the space of six weeks I’d hired six additional staff. My to-do list was endless. I was in the midst of staff induction programs, working on formulating and setting up reporting for the ACB account, and developing their first campaign. Even if I’d wanted to, I didn’t have time to think about Paul.

He attended our weekly meetings with ACB and we’d had a number of conversations relating to the bank, but it was purely business. And I was happy to keep it that way.

I’d realized during the last month I had little time in my life for a relationship. In reality, I had little time for basic errands like shopping and cleaning. Mia had been right. Having ACB as a client was a full-time job. Not that I wasn’t enjoying it. They were a good client, listening to our campaign suggestions with respect and enthusiasm. And Grounded Marketing’s bottom line had never looked better.

My desk phone rang and I picked it up, still concentrating on the revenue forecast I’d been working on.

“You need to take a break.”

“Well, hi Paul,” I said.

“If you keep up this sort of pace you’ll collapse in a heap by Christmas,” he went on.

“Were we having a conversation about something? Because I think I missed it.”

I heard him sigh on the other end of the line. “I had no idea the kind of hours you were working.”

“Who told you?” I was careful not to deny his statement because I’d been making a habit of getting home after ten every night. And working on weekends.

“Your mother. And she agrees that eighty-hour weeks are not sustainable.”

I didn’t know who to get angry with first, so I decided denial was the best approach. “I don’t see why it’s an issue. I suspect it’s inevitable when you take on a big account like this. I’m sure it will settle down after we launch the first campaign early next year.”

“You’re falling into a trap, Madeleine. You do these sorts of hours now, ACB will come to expect them permanently.”

“I don’t have a choice, Paul.”

“It’s your business. You always have a choice.”

“To lose the account? Because that’s what will happen,” I told him with finality.

“It’s an easy mistake to make,” Paul continued, but I interrupted him.

“Mistake? So you think I’m making a mistake, do you?” I said coldly. I didn’t need his honesty right now, I had enough on my plate. “And you’re right. It’s my business. I can run it how I like.” I pulled the phone away from my ear, ready to hang up.

“Do you hear yourself, Madeleine?” I heard him say. “Because the Madeleine who set Grounded Marketing up four years ago would be shocked.”

I stared at the phone in my hand, the blue eyes in Paul’s profile picture staring back at me. Slowly I brought the phone back to my ear. “Go on,” I said quietly. I rested my head in my other hand. God, I was
so
tired, I suddenly realized.

“When we first met, you told me you didn’t want to be one of those agencies who churns and burns staff. Who makes unrealistic requests of people. Have you spoken to your staff lately to see how they’re coping?”

I didn’t say anything, because I hadn’t, I realized with a stab of guilt. I’d been too busy.

“And have you actually worked out what the hourly rate would be for the number of hours you and your staff are working on this account? I’m betting you’re too hung up on that big monthly figure to realize that it’s actually a pretty raw deal.”

I remained silent and looked guiltily at the spreadsheet on my computer screen. I hadn’t considered it from that perspective.

“Can I make a suggestion?” Paul asked.

“You seem to be full of them,” I said, although there was no malice in my tone, just resignation. “Go ahead.”

“Take a weekend off.”

I looked out the window at the panoramic view of Darling Harbour. It was nearing Christmas and the sun was shining brightly. The restaurants and shops overlooking the water bustled with activity. I tried to remember the last time I’d gone for a drink or dinner with the girls.

“That’s at least the third time you’ve given me that advice. Either I’m a slow learner or you’re not a very good mentor,” I joked.

“I’m about to become the world’s best mentor,” Paul told me. “I’m going to a media industry love-in this weekend and Greg can’t make it. Why don’t you come in his place? You don’t have to attend any of the events or dinners, you can just hang out in your hotel room and read a book by the pool. My treat. The ticket would just go to waste anyway.”

The image of lying in my bikini reading a book by the pool popped into my mind. I almost started to salivate. I was about to say yes, when I realized what I’d been about to do. I was in the midst of launching one of the biggest campaigns in Grounded Marketing’s history – there was no way I could take time out of the business right now.

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea, but thanks anyway,” I said.

“I’m not taking no for an answer,” he replied, calmly. “I’ve already given Julia the flight details.”

“You
what?
” Fury burned in my chest. Who did he think he was? Mentor or not, he was overstepping the mark.

“She thought you’d be crazy to say no to a four-day escape to Fiji,” Paul went on.

“I – ” He hadn’t said anything about Fiji. Oh, God.
Fiji
. Part of my brain was already picking out which bikinis I would pack, but I shook myself fiercely. “I can’t take four days out of the business, Paul.”

“It’s only two. We leave Friday and return Monday.”

“Two days, then. I can’t take two days.”

“If you can’t take two days away from ACB, then you shouldn’t be servicing other clients,” Paul replied, matter-of-fact.

“Hang on – ”

“You know I’m right.”

“That doesn’t make it any less annoying,” I spat immaturely.

“Annoying or not, you need to clear your head. If you want to vent about work while we’re away, I’m all ears, but do not bring your laptop. Understand?”

“I still haven’t agreed that I’m coming,” I said sulkily.

“You’re coming. I’ll pick you up from your apartment six am on Friday morning.”

“Paul?” Control Freak Madeleine was about to protest again. I squeezed my free hand into a tight fist until my manicured nails dug sharply into my palm. Tropical Island Madeleine gave Control Freak Madeleine the finger. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure. I’ll see you Friday.”

I was going to Fiji for four days with Paul.

I surveyed the contents of my wardrobe again. This shouldn’t have been so hard. And it was
business
. As many times as I repeated it to myself, it wouldn’t sink in. The female part of my brain insisted on a clothing selection based on the off chance I might run into Paul by the pool or be required to share a meal with him.

So much for keeping it professional. Paul had already made it clear it was a work trip for him. Yet I couldn’t shake the nerves that came with knowing I’d be getting on an airplane with him and traveling to a tropical island. Two days of sunning myself by the pool, with a book no less. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d read anything non-work related.

I jumped as my apartment buzzer sounded. I looked at the clock. Eight thirty pm. It was Thursday night and I’d forgotten I’d invited Scarlett over for a drink. I buzzed her in and resumed packing.

Scarlett was another person who wouldn’t take no for an answer. She’d been at me for a couple of weeks to catch up for a drink but I’d kept canceling, too busy with work. As soon as I’d told her I was heading to Fiji for four days she’d invited herself over because technically – in her words – I was now officially on holidays and couldn’t use work as an excuse to ignore her.

I heard my front door slam. “In the bedroom,” I called out.

Scarlett entered dressed in tight fitting black jeans and an equally tight black tank-top, brown paper bag in hand. “Here.” She waved the bag in my direction and I pointed to the kitchen.

“You know where the glasses are.”

Scarlett huffed and walked out. I heard her stomping around the kitchen and rattling around in the cupboards for wine glasses. What was up with her? She seemed more pissed off than usual. She returned a minute later, already half-finished with her glass of wine. She set mine on my bedside table and sat on my bed next to some clothes I’d laid out, ready to pack.

Scarlett eyed the selection. “You need to include a dress.”

I pointed at blue and yellow full-length dress folded on the bed. “Over there.”

“Not a summer dress, stupid. A hot, sexy number.”

I paused and looked at her, hands on my hips. “Why would I want to do that?”

“So Paul can remove it from you,” she said simply, with a satisfied grin.

I cleared my throat and walked to my bedside table for the glass of wine. I did not need to be encouraged to think about Paul in that way at the moment. “It’s business.”

“And I’m a lesbian.”

I attempted not to choke on the spicy Shiraz in my throat. Once I recovered, I said, “I would have said you were bisexual. When did this happen?”

Her eyes glittered with mischief. “When you wouldn’t take my calls for two weeks straight because you were too busy at work.”

I winced. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Not as sorry as I am that John has changed his mind about posing nude for me.”

I assessed her body language for signs that I was in deep trouble, but relaxed because she was still reclined on the bed. “I may or may not have told him to reconsider,” I admitted.

“It’s very gallant of you to protect the innocent boy.”

“He’s not innocent! And he’s not a boy.”

Scarlett gave me a coy look. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“No, of course not. I like John, that’s all. And he’s not innocent. He’s genuine.”

Scarlett scoffed. “Yeah, he genuinely wants to get into my pants.”

“Is that all it’s about for you?” I asked. “It’s not always about sex, you know. He’s interested in a relationship.”

“You know I don’t do relationships.”

“Which was why I told him not to pose for you.”

Scarlett narrowed her eyes at me and pouted. “You’ve ruined all my fun.”

“And protected a genuine guy from being used and abused. Can I suggest you stick to your usual type?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

I stopped folding the pair of shorts I had in my hand and looked at her. “That wasn’t meant to be an insult, just a statement of fact.”

“Well, I don’t like you interfering in my love life.”

“Now you know how I feel,” I muttered.

Scarlett inclined her head thoughtfully. “Touché. I suppose I deserve that.”

“So are you going to leave John alone from now on?”

“I’ll put a hold on my plans to use and abuse him if that makes you feel any better.” She took a sip of her wine. “I can’t promise I won’t stay away from him, though. I kind of like his company.”

“Excuse me?” I dropped the shorts into the suitcase at my feet. “What did you just say?”

“I said I like his company. Is that an offence?”

It wasn’t an offence, but it was very unlike Scarlett to enjoy the company of a male – outside of sex anyway. This was interesting, very interesting. Instead of highlighting the fact, I kept my face neutral. “I think John would like that. I definitely consider him a friend.”

“Exactly,” said Scarlett, sloshing what was left of her wine. “Maybe it’s time I had a few male friends for a change.”

“Maybe.” I turned back to my wardrobe, my eyes wide. Good God. What was the world coming to? I was going on a four-day weekend with my business mentor, and Scarlett Wong wanted John as a friend.

*

Paul proved to be a very charming travel partner. Too charming.

After he picked me up at six o’clock, he drove us to the airport. We chatted easily about the trip – I noticed he was careful to steer away from the subject of work. After all, I was meant to be relaxing.

While he parked, he explained the trip was organized by one of their biggest clients, a leading Sydney television station. NTRtain had held the account for almost a decade. Technically it was intended as a party for their senior and top performing staff, but Paul and Greg were apparently considered honorary staff.

“So it’s really just a celebratory booze up with some promotion thrown in about next year’s top rating shows. Greg was gutted he couldn’t make it this year,” Paul said, picking up our bags and neatly organizing them onto a trolley.

“I bet. Is Greg a bit of a party animal?”

“You could say that. The alcohol loosens him up and he invariably ends up chatting up all the young female television executives.”

“Oh. I thought he was married?”

“He is – happily. It’s actually quite harmless. I think he just enjoys flirting, because he’d never stray from his wife. He adores her.”

I tried to picture the type of partner a man like Greg would be married to, but couldn’t. “What’s she like?”

“Gorgeous. Intelligent. They’ve been married since university. She’s my ex-wife’s best friend.”

I bit my lip, awkwardly, not sure what to say.

Confident the bags were settled on the trolley safely, Paul started pushing it toward the terminal, while I followed. He glanced at me curiously. “Greg’s wife, Natasha, is my friend too. We’re all on good terms.”

“That’s very mature of you.”

Paul stopped pushing the trolley to look at me. “I think I may have given you the wrong impression. The separation between my wife and I was mutual. The regrets I have are related to the boys and not being with them full-time.”

I stared at him and watched, feeling a little disorientated, as he started to push the trolley again. He was right. For some reason I’d assumed his wife had requested the divorce against his wishes. I’d never considered he’d wanted it too. I hurried after him, my mind in a fuzz.

He kept a steady pace and before I knew it, we’d checked in and were sitting opposite each other in the airline lounge nursing coffees.

“When we get to the resort, feel free to do whatever you like,” Paul told me. “I’ll be tied up with the television staff all day Saturday. If you’d like to attend the dinner with me on the Saturday night, you’re more than welcome.”

Scarlett’s advice about including a sexy dress came to mind. I’d relented and included a fitted deep purple full-length dress, with a tastefully plunging neckline and back. I pushed the image of it away and forced myself to be sensible. “That’s nice of you, but I’m sure I’d just feel like a third wheel.”

“I doubt it. The dinner is always a laugh. The more the merrier.” Paul finished his coffee and pushed it aside. “It’s totally up to you. Although I should probably warn you that half the party often ends up semi-naked in the resort pool by the end of the night.”

His eyes sparkled with amusement, and I was pretty sure mine were rounded in surprise. “Are you included in that number?” I asked.

“What happens at the party is never spoken of again. Trust me.”

I concentrated on my coffee. I couldn’t tell if his last comment was directed at me, or merely a statement of fact. The truth was, I was starting to regret going with him. Now I was sitting across from him, I wasn’t sure how strong my resolve was to keep this trip strictly business. We hadn’t even boarded the plane and I wanted him.

“Madeleine, what’s wrong?”

Paul’s blue eyes studied me and I had the sudden urge to stand up. “Nothing.” I looked down at him from my full height, which made me feel slightly more in control. “I guess I’m just finding it hard to wind down.”

“I’m not surprised. I’m pretty sure they have a spa and massages at the resort, which you should definitely take advantage of.”

“Agreed. I’ll be back in a minute.” I walked off to find the bathroom without any further explanation.

Paul’s presence was putting me on edge. I reminded myself that I’d made a promise to myself. I wasn’t going to make the next move – that was up to him. The only problem was, the more time I spent with him, the harder I was finding it to keep that promise. The sooner we arrived at the resort, the better. Then we could go our separate ways and I could get down to the serious business of relaxing.