by Jan Freed
“I had two choices,” she admitted. “Scrap the last eight months of my life and start over at a new agency. Or trust your sense of fairness and put my fate in your hands.”
A small movement drew her attention to the long tanned fingers resting lightly on the steering wheel. She stared as his thumb rubbed slow lazy circles against the padded leather.
“Brave woman, considering Kleenex is standard issue for my female staff.” His eyes were the deepest hue of bluebonnets....
“Wh-what?”
A car horn blasted from behind, jerking her gaze from his.
“My reputation,” he explained, as if speaking to a dull child. “You’re not afraid of it?”
“I haven’t cried since I was a little girl. I’ll take my chances.”
Years of masculine companionship had taught her to give as good as she got, Laura assured herself. Besides, her father’s recent heart attack left her no choice. She would walk on burning coals if it would help ease his financial burden. And the fastest way to send money home was by earning a promotion with her current employer.
Laura drew a deep breath. “As a businessman, Mr. McDonald, would the idea of your company wasting a valuable resource upset you?”
“You’ve got my attention.”
“I know this may sound conceited, but I’m too talented to waste on jobs that require the imagination of a slug. If I was allowed the opportunity, I could contribute a lot to this agency.”
“Go on.” His tone was noncommittal.
“When I was hired, Mr. Whitman told me there would be plenty of opportunity for advancement.”
“Mr. Whitman?” He threw her a sharp glance. “Didn’t Tom Marsh hire you?”
“No, he didn’t. One of my professors at UT had gone to school with Mr. Whitman. He arranged for the interview. I never talked to Tom until my first day on the job.”
“It’s customary for low man on the totem pole to get the jobs no one else wants. Did you expect him to promote you right away?”
“Of course not!” She straightened and drummed her fingertips on the molded armrest. “I expected to earn my stripes like anyone else before working on more important accounts. And for eight months I’ve given the most trivial assignments my one-hundred-percent best effort.” Her fingertips stilled as her words sped up. “But at what point will I be allowed to move up the totem pole? Last month Jim Reese was promoted ahead of me to the Capital Computer account after only three months with the agency.”
Laura was beginning to read Alec’s implacable face more easily. He obviously doubted her abilities. “If you’ll take the time to compare Jim’s performance with mine,” she challenged, “you’ll see why I filed a complaint with Human Resources.”
Alec frowned. “I was never notified about a complaint.”
“Mr. Marsh likes to work out staff problems ‘quietly,’ which to him meant ignoring my requests for more challenging assignments. Eventually I got so desperate I started submitting unsolicited ideas on the Regency account. Just to show him my capabilities.”
A flicker of interest crossed Alec’s face. “What did he say about your work?”
She turned toward her window. “He tossed it in the trash without even looking at it. He said that he would be the judge of when I was ready for more challenge.” Laura curled her fingers at the memory. “That I’d better not go running to Mr. Whitman, either, or he’d make me long for the days of Yellow Page assignments.”
“If you want to be successful at Harris, Bates and Whitman, Ms. Hayes, you’ll have to develop a tougher hide,” Alec said in a lecturing tone. “Perhaps another agency would suit you better.”
She blinked, then ground her teeth. Hadn’t he heard anything she’d said? “You don’t seem to understand. I can’t get a higher position somewhere else by showing a portfolio of Yellow Page ads. And by now everyone at the office, including Tom Marsh, knows about our little tête-ê-tête. Do you honestly think he would let me leave without trying to get even? I won’t be able to land a decent job at any top Houston agency after today.”
It was only a slight exaggeration. Mr. Marsh had enormous influence in the Houston advertising community. He’d won a wall full of awards for the agency, although none in recent years. A discreet call here and there, and she would be blacklisted without any recourse.
Alec kept his gaze on the road. “Perhaps you should have thought of that before sneaking behind the man’s back and kissing up to me for a promotion.”
Laura’s outrage rose like bile, obliterating everything but her need to wipe the patronizing expression off his face. “Kissing up to you? I went on the offensive, you pompous bigot, just like you would have done in the same situation. Only you can’t get past the fact I’m a woman long enough to see this meeting was my only chance of building a future here!”
She was scarcely aware of the truck turning. When the vehicle passed through the ornate wrought-iron gate of a magnificent redbrick Georgian house, her anger dissolved into uneasiness.
Alec switched off the ignition and shifted to face Laura. It took all her courage not to turn away. He studied her intently, as if he didn’t quite know what to make of her.
“You’re wrong, you know.” Amusement danced in his eyes. “Under the circumstances, I can understand why you bypassed Tom. And I’m not a pompous bigot, either.”
One corner of his mouth kicked up slightly, deepening a masculine dimple in his left cheek.
“I’m a smart pompous bigot.” He sobered quickly. “But I’m afraid I can’t reward you for insubordination.”
Her heart plunged. It was a long moment before she could speak. “Is this how you get your jollies? Getting people’s hopes up so you can knock them down?”
Many a former schoolboy would recognize the look she gave Alec then. Laura Hayes always came up swinging.
“You’d be wise to reconsider your decision,” she said, pleased to see Alec’s relaxed slouch slowly straighten. “You can and should reward me. First, because I’m talented. Second, because I’ve honestly earned a chance for more responsibility. And last, because...”
“Don’t stop now, Ms. Hayes. I’m fascinated.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Because unless you assign me to the Regency Hotels creative team, I can virtually guarantee that you’ll lose the account before the month is over.”
He regarded her incredulously. “Are you threatening me?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Smart pompous bigot, aren’t you?”
Alec lifted his right arm to her seat back. The deceptively innocent movement pulled fine worsted blue wool taut across his shoulders. Clearly it wasn’t padding that made them seem a mile wide. His big body radiated anger, wrapping her in an oppressive embrace.
Dear Lord, what have I done? She swallowed hard. “D-don’t you have a problem here at home to take care of?”
“My problem will sit safe until I get to it,” he assured her, leaning even closer. “Don’t change the subject, Ms. Hayes. I’m extremely interested to know how a junior copywriter could affect the fate of this agency’s largest account.”
His scornful gaze drifted down her department-store ensemble. She resisted the urge to cross her foot over a deep scuff mark no amount of bone-colored shoe polish had been able to hide.
Raising her chin, she treated him to her own scathingly slow inspection. “Some people in this world, Mr. McDonald, are not dependent on connections to pave their way to success.”
Alec had been married to the daughter of founding partner John Bates. Agency gossip said that even after the divorce, John had favored Alec over other staff members, including Paul Whitman, also a founding partner.
Laura ignored the small twitch in Alec’s cheek and folded her hands. “Whether you admit it to me or not, we both know Sam Parker is fed up with this agency’s lackluster creative efforts.” She slid him a wry glance. “It doesn’t take a CIA agent to know he’s inches away from defecting. You need someone working on his account who can turn the si
tuation around. If Mr. Marsh hasn’t done that by now, quite frankly, I doubt he ever will.”
Alec’s upper lip curled. “Let me get this straight. A woman with a whopping eight months on the job is going to do what a man with twenty years’ experience hasn’t been able to accomplish?”
She studied him coolly. “Exactly what bothers you more, Mr. McDonald? My gender or my lack of experience?”
Without moving a muscle, he loomed darker and larger. “Your complete lack of respect bothers me a lot, Ms. Hayes. A hell of a lot. Just what are you suggesting I do? Fire Tom and promote you to creative director?” He eyed her with distaste. “Or is it my job you want?”
Laura sniffed. “The only thing I want—the only thing I’ve ever wanted from this agency—is the chance to practice my craft. Give me something more challenging than a Yellow Page ad and judge my talent for yourself. If I fail, I’ll resign without a peep.”
“And if you succeed?” He arched a skeptical eyebrow.
Just watch me, Spock. “Then I’ll have gone where no man has gone before. Even one with twenty years’ experience.”
Laura’s smirk froze as his teeth bared in a humorless smile. She’d jumped in feetfirst again and as usual left her head behind.
“Very well, Ms. Hayes. If you really want that assignment, you’ve got it.” He searched her eyes almost anxiously. “You do want it, don’t you?”
Laura’s scalp prickled. “Of course.”
In the place where her instinct dwelled, a faint drumroll sounded.
Ready...
“Well, then, Ms. Hayes, here it is. I want a multimedia campaign concept for Regency Hotels that is designed to increase occupancy by twenty percent over the next year.”
Aim...
“It must be totally different from anything we or any other agency has done for them before. I’m looking for innovative ideas...and practical applications. Any questions so far?”
Her mind was a black hole. Fortunately her tongue was used to navigating without a captain. “No. You’ve been very clear.”
“Excellent!” Alec’s gaze leapt to life with the first real gleam of pleasure she’d seen, then dropped to inspect a thumbnail. “Oh, and Ms. Hayes?”
It could have been an afterthought, a minor detail remembered, but Laura was beginning to know the man.
Fire, you son of a bitch!
“I want it on my desk by three o’clock tomorrow.”
CHAPTER TWO
ALEC HITCHED the clanging aluminum ladder tighter under one arm. He would kill the kid. No—that was too merciful. He would take away Nintendo privileges for a week. Jason would consider that a fate worse than death.
As if dealing with the outrageous Ms. Hayes wasn’t enough for one day, once again Alec had failed miserably as a father. Jason had stared down from his perch in the backyard’s ancient pecan tree and flatly refused to move. Logic, threats, an offer to buy him the video game of his choice—nothing had budged his obstinate little rear.
Now Alec felt the impotent fury and self-disgust of a parent who has sunk to bribery and still lost. Thank God his neighbor had been home to lend an extension ladder. With luck Alec just might be able to get himself and Ms. Hayes back to the office by one. After all, he mused with a burgeoning grin, she had a challenging new assignment to tackle.
Unbidden, the vision of Laura accepting her impossible task with quiet dignity invaded his mind. There had been a strength of purpose in the set of her mouth and chin he’d almost admired. And those exotic eyes...
Alec frowned at his train of thought. The woman was a troublemaker. An undisciplined, self-serving hotshot looking for an easy route to glory. He’d given her exactly what she deserved.
Clattering toward his backyard fence, he eased the ladder’s top rung through the open cedar gate. Somewhere around the sixth rung, the contraption jammed on a protruding hinge, squashing the hell out of both his thumb and any remaining good humor he possessed. He stumbled free of the gate and glared at the towering tree fifty feet ahead.
A stream of giggles drifted down from its dense canopy of leaves. Unbelieving, his gaze traveled first to one bone-colored pump, burrowed in the grass beneath spreading branches, before locating its mate a few feet away. As if flipped off in haste, the shoe lay upside down with its heel pointing skyward like an accusing finger. He groaned inwardly.
She was up in that tree with Jason. Just how she’d gotten there, Alec didn’t know. But now he had not only one, but two errant children to retrieve.
Dragging the ladder behind him, he plowed a fifty-foot trail to the tree trunk and propped his cumbersome load against the bark. Slowly, dreading what he would see, Alec raised his gaze.
The woman was halfway up the tree, damn it. And from the look of things, on the verge of breaking her fool neck. His anxious gaze darted higher, recorded his son’s safety, then swung back to the shapely derriere swaying toward him. As one slim foot stretched down, his interest quickened.
With every inch her toes lowered, Laura’s black linen skirt crept higher above the knee. Several runs sprouted from a gaping hole in the heel of her panty hose. He followed them up a trim ankle and nicely curved calf until...
Sweet heaven!
Who would have thought that little Miz Women’s Lib—Miz Judge-My-Talent-For-Yourself—had the legs of a Las Vegas showgirl? He slid an appreciative gaze from thigh to instep, then shook himself. She was certainly acting the part of a bubblehead.
“Unless you want my son to witness your death, Ms. Hayes, kindly stay still,” he bellowed.
Laura’s entire body jerked, including her supporting foot. She groped to reestablish hand- and footholds before glowering down under her billowing cotton sleeve. “The only one who’ll get me killed is you, Mr. McDonald. If you’ll get out of my way and stop yelling, I’ll be fine.”
Alec frowned. Delving into his pocket with one hand, he located his last antacid tablet and popped it into his mouth. Until today, he probably hadn’t raised his voice in three years.
“I appreciate your heroics, but you could get hurt.” Shrugging out of his suit jacket, he placed it carefully on the grass. “Stay put and I’ll come get you.”
Grasping the ladder in both hands, he notched his foot on the bottom rung and looked up. Laura glared down like a treed cougar ready to leap on his neck. Confused, he instinctively sought the nearest male for an explanation.
Jason peered down over dangling sneakers, his alert blue eyes rimmed in thick dark lashes. “I don’t think she needs your help, Dad,” Jason said. “She can climb pretty good—for a girl.”
Alec’s gaze dropped lower to where Laura was perched, narrowed on her smug expression, then lifted back up to Jason. “How good, son?”
The boy shifted his weight, unmindful of the swaying branch beneath him. Dappled sunlight dusted his wheat blond cap of hair. “Well—” he hesitated, his ego obviously battling with admiration for Laura’s skill “—almost good as me. Wasn’t her fault the branches got too small way up here.”
Sensing a flurry of movement, Alec lowered his gaze just in time to see Laura touch down on a gnarled branch stretching parallel to the ground. She pivoted and faced him squarely, planting feet and fists Peter Pan style. So there, her impudent grin said.
Something hard and tight inside Alec loosened a fraction.
He scowled. “I believe I asked you to wait in the truck until I came back, Ms. Hayes.”
Her grin faded, replaced by an exasperated glare. “You left me in a hot truck with the electric windows rolled up—and no keys, I might add. If I were a dog, Mr. McDonald, you could be arrested for cruelty.” She sat down in a huff, feet dangling, and made a show of adjusting her skirt.
Suppressing a smile, Alec crossed his arms and leaned one shoulder against the bark. “As long as you were risking your neck up there, why didn’t you bring Jason down?”
“I moved down to a bigger branch, Dad,” Jason volunteered. “She said I wouldn’t like bein’ a pancake.” He pee
red at Laura and giggled infectiously, as only a six-year-old can.
Alec watched the exchange through narrowed eyes. The two were certainly chummy. His son had never looked at him like that.
“I warned you once about your impulsive behavior, Ms. Hayes.” He let his gaze slide over her disheveled appearance, lingering on her torn panty hose. “Don’t expect me to pay for clothing damages.”
Her unrouged cheeks bloomed roses, intensifying the rich brown hues in her eyes and hair. Against a fluttering green backdrop, she looked as natural and vibrant as spring itself.
“I was more concerned about your son’s safety than about my clothes. That twig Jason sat on could have snapped any minute. Your ladder wouldn’t have helped a broken neck.”
Alec calculated the distance from Jason to the ground and felt a sharp skewer of alarm. He shifted, ignoring the bite of rough bark beneath his shoulder. She’d responded to Jason’s danger, and he’d treated her abominably in return.
“Where I grew up, we climbed fire escapes, not trees,” he explained. Staring somewhere in the vicinity of her feet, he lowered his voice for her ears alone. “I’ve never climbed a tree in my life.”
The admission embarrassed him. God only knew why he cared what this woman thought. But for some reason he did.
“I didn’t mean to imply you didn’t care.” Laura matched his quietness. “It’s obvious you love Jason very much. And he certainly loves you.”
He raised an eyebrow. “For someone who loves me, he has a hell of a way of showing it.”
She pointed a finger overhead and swung her legs. “You mean this?“ Two enchanting dimples appeared briefly. “He couldn’t show it more plainly if he sent you a singing telegram.”
With nonchalant ease, she pushed off the branch and fell feetfirst in the lush grass. Brushing twigs and leaves off her skirt, she walked slowly toward him and met his eyes in unmistakable challenge.
“Why do you think he insisted on you being the one to get him down?” she asked.
Alec strove to maintain his casual stance against the tree, nearly failing when he looked down at her upturned mouth, the lips pink and slightly parted. For the life of him, he couldn’t make a sound.
