by Jan Freed
He frowned as Laura cited the tremendous increase of traveling women in the workforce and the fact that over ninety percent of vacation-destination decisions were made by women. She theorized that with many minor changes, but no major expenditures, Regency Hotels could become the preferred choice of an extremely loyal consumer group that was starved for “royal treatment.”
The lowly copywriter had taken complete and absolute control of the meeting, Alec realized with a jolt. Unless he did something fast, she would leave him in the dust.
“The key to targeting women successfully is to seduce them with thoughtfulness,” she continued in the definitive tone of an expert. “You can’t imagine what a powerful attraction that is.”
Alec grinned at Sam, man-to-man. “Funny, I’ve seduced my share of women over the years. But it wasn’t my thoughtfulness they thanked me for.”
Laura’s golden eyes took on the look of a hissing cat’s. “Must have been the twenty bucks you left on the nightstand.”
Sam’s whoop ricocheted off the walls. When at last he quieted, he wiped his eyes and glanced at his watch. “Holy jalapeños, it’s almost happy hour.” He sank back in his chair and looked from Laura to Alec, an odd expression on his craggy face. “What’s all this Mister and Miz stuff? You two fight like you’re married. Sure you don’t have something going on the side?”
Alec gaped at Laura, her horrified expression no doubt a reflection of his own.
“Guess not,” Sam said, chuckling. “How ‘bout you two letting me buy you a beer? I know a place where the Corona’s cold and the burgers are hot. We can talk some more about Laura’s ideas there.”
Reaching into his pocket, Alec pulled out a roll of Tums and peeled back the paper wrapping. He’d lost control all right. Of the meeting, and his whole sorry life. But by God he would get it back. Starting now.
He pushed away from the table and stood. “Last one there buys the first round.”
* * *
LAURA TILTED her head back, swigged from a long-neck bottle and then plunked her drink down on the weathered picnic table. Thirty minutes ago she’d felt on top of the world at Sam’s obvious interest in her proposal. Now here she sat on Bubba’s outdoor patio, nursing a beer and growing irritation. She glared at Alec over her sweating bottle. Drat the man. Why had he accepted Sam’s invitation before any decisions had been made? She’d had no choice but to tag along and protect her interests.
Sam lumbered up to the table clutching a red plastic basket and a frosty Corona. “Sure I can’t interest either of you in a Buffalo Burger?”
They shook their heads in unison, Laura a bit more vigorously than Alec. She sniffed once and wrinkled her nose.
Sam grinned. “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. I’d rather eat this than prime rib.” He settled next to her and hovered over his basket of food like a mother bird over hatchlings.
Laura propped an elbow on the rough cedar and buried her chin in one palm. The outdoor speakers blared an Astros-Cubs game, its commentary droning like the speeding traffic visible on Loop 610. When Alec and Sam launched into a riveting discussion of baseball statistics, her lids drooped.
Lord she was tired—tired of getting the runaround and just plain bone weary. The sleepless night and constant worry over her family’s well-being had caught up with her. She slumped lower. Her lids weighed ten pounds each. The warped table beckoned like a Beauty Rest mattress.
“I want this little lady in charge of my creative team, Alec,” Sam said around a mouthful of food.
Laura’s eyes popped open. She straightened. Alec looked like he’d just stepped in a cow patty and didn’t know where to clean his foot.
Sam stuffed the last bite of burger into his mouth, washed it down with a lusty swallow of Corona and shifted on the bench to face both Laura and Alec. His baby blue eyes sharpened shrewdly. “You’re lucky as a flea in a kennel she came along, son, and you know it. Now if you can just keep that snake-eyed Marsh character away from my account, we may still have a working relationship.”
Jubilation flowed through Laura, as reviving as caffeine. Alec had no choice left but to promote her now. She’d beaten him at his own game. Only...he didn’t look beaten.
Alec drained the last of his beer with the air of a man about to take action. He thwacked the empty bottle down. “Did you or did you not hire Harris, Bates and Whitman Advertising three months ago because of my track record?”
Sam beetled his brows. “You know I did.”
“As I recall, you insisted I supervise your account before you signed our agency contract. What’s the matter, Sam, don’t you trust me anymore?”
The older man scrubbed a hand over his silver burr haircut. “‘Course I do, Alec. You’re the only reason I’ve stuck it out this long. Hell, my entire marketing department thinks you’re God’s gift to advertising, but...” He trailed off uncertainly.
“But you’ve lost confidence in the rest of the agency, right? And I don’t blame you.” Alec toyed with his beer label a moment, then looked up with compelling earnestness. “What if I were to tell you First National Bank has approved a generous line of credit for a new venture of mine? What if I said that venture would be up and running by the time you’ve come to the end of your ninety-day termination notice to Harris, Bates and Whitman? What if you knew that venture would make Regency Hotels its first priority? Think you could put your faith in McDonald Advertising?”
Laura’s stomach sank. Had this ace been up his sleeve all along? She frantically called his bluff. “I’d ask about the no-compete agreement he signed if I were you, Mr. Parker.”
Alec impaled her with a glance. “Being John Bates’s son-in-law gave me certain privileges. I didn’t sign anything.” He focused back on Sam. “I’ve been planning this move for months, except the part about soliciting your business. I’d intended to leave the agency’s existing accounts alone when I set up my own shop.”
“What changed your mind?”
Raising a hand to block the setting sun, Alec squinted. “Tom’s little stunt. I realized how much things have changed since John died. Integrity, professional courtesy—they’re wasted on the present management. I’m neither legally nor morally obligated to give them my loyalty, Sam.” His hand dropped. “I don’t like how they operate, and I’m getting out—with or without your help.”
Laura stared, fascinated in spite of herself. Lit by golden rays, his eyes shimmered as blue as Lake Travis on a cloudless day. He’d rolled his cuffs to midforearm and loosened his tie. A light breeze ruffled his gleaming black hair. Her mind struggled to match this man with the by-the-book, corporate stuffed shirt of yesterday.
As if reading her thoughts, Alec shifted his attention to her. A zap of pure energy zinged up and down her spine.
Sam cleared his throat. His twinkling gaze encompassed them both, then steadied on Alec. “Alec, you’re a good man to have in my corner. I trust you with my budget, my marketing staff and my business strategy. But you couldn’t come up with a good creative campaign if I held a knife to your zipper.”
Alec visibly winced as Sam nodded toward Laura. She tensed.
“This girl’s got great ideas and more goddamn balls than a Rockets’ locker room. Just the kind of person I want on my team, Alec. Now you hire her to head up my creative team and I’ll give your question serious consideration.” He patted his shirt pocket, pulled out a cigar and matches, then lit up. Taking two deep puffs, he squinted through the smoke and awaited their reaction with obvious enjoyment.
Laura released a pent-up breath.
Alec was the first to recover. “Sam, please reconsider. This woman has no discipline, no self-control. She’ll disrupt the entire office.”
Laura threw him a poisonous glance. “Yes, Sam, have a heart. This man is a human robot. I can’t be creative with him breathing down my—”
“That’s my offer. Take it or leave it.” Sam’s expression hardened. “When I leave this table, my offer walks out with me. If I were you
two, I’d come to some agreement real quick.”
It occurred to Laura suddenly that the odds had shifted in her favor. That she had a golden opportunity to fulfill both her career goal and family obligation. And that, wonder of wonders, she held a royal flush.
Her heart racing with her thoughts, she kept her eyes on Sam. “I don’t think I can work for Alec, Mr. Parker, but I’ll consider working with him—at Hayes and McDonald Advertising.”
Ignoring a strangled sound from across the table, she concentrated on Sam’s admiring grin. “Those are my terms, if you’re willing to accept them.”
“Hell’s bells, I like your style, girl! McDonald Advertising, Hayes and McDonald Advertising...” He shrugged a massive shoulder. “Makes no difference to me what’s on the door, as long as you’re inside. Guess it’s up to you now, Alec. You can shake hands with your new partner and guarantee my business—or not. Either way, I’m firing Harris, Bates and Whitman Advertising tomorrow.”
Laura steeled herself to look at Alec. The lake blue eyes she’d admired earlier were the color of gunmetal now—and just as ominous.
I’ll make you pay for this, those eyes promised as he slowly stretched out a hand.
She reached out and bypassed the fingertip grip he sought, sliding her palm to fit snugly against his. Winner take all, she silently answered.
In complete agreement, they shook hands.
* * *
“DAMN IT, Alec, have you lost your mind?” Paul Whitman waved Alec’s letter of resignation aloft and glared across the desk with milky blue eyes. His liver-spotted hand trembled before dropping to the gleaming wood. “You can’t just waltz out of here with our largest account. What would John think?”
Trust the last living partner of Harris, Bates and Whitman Advertising to try emotional blackmail. His manipulation made leaving the agency that much easier.
“John Bates is probably looking down and laughing his wings off right now. He left the door wide open for me to do this someday. In fact, I think he hoped I would,” Alec said with a flash of insight.
Even after the divorce, his father-in-law had continued to treat him with respect and affection. Alec missed John infinitely more than his spoiled daughter. The perceptive businessman must have guessed Paul would exploit Alec to win accounts, then deny him adequate control. By waiving the standing no-compete agreement required of employees from midlevel management up, John had ingeniously protected his protégé’s future interests.
Paul looked at Alec with basset-hound reproach. “To think we’ve harbored a traitor all these years. Disgraceful. Unethical.”
“Like you cutting a deal with Sam Parker behind my back,” Alec bit out. “Economax Lodges stuck with us through the shakiest year this agency ever had, Paul. They trusted us to follow through on the three-year plan we presented.” He snagged Paul’s darting glance with an accusing stare. “But you jilted that account like a bored lover when Regency Hotels crooked its little finger.”
A dull flush crept up the old man’s scrawny neck. His eyes blinked rapidly, then veered left to scan a track-lit wall filled with award plaques and certificates. He raised his sagging chin. “I did what I had to do, Alec. What you’ll have to do, if you’re still hell-bent on founding your own agency. You’ll discover that soon enough.”
Alec jumped to his feet, his only wish to get out now that he’d revealed his decision. “You’ll have ninety days to turn over all art files and close out the billing, Paul. I know I can count on your professional cooperation during the transition.” Alec paused, detecting a spiteful gleam in the CEO’s eyes. “But if for some reason I don’t receive it, I just might feel the need to solicit the other fifteen accounts I reeled in for this agency.”
Leaving Paul’s mouth working like a carp on a riverbank, Alec walked through the door without a single regret. He’d taken four steps down the hallway before relief made him lean against the wall.
Maintaining his composure at work the past few months had become increasingly hard. Living with Jason added pressure to his already strained self-control. Alec protected his son as best he could, but there were times he simply couldn’t resist venturing near the bright, beautiful child—consequences be damned. If only he could trust his temper around the boy. If only...
Alec straightened and shook off his wistful thoughts. He couldn’t change who he was. At least by regaining control of his professional life, he would strengthen command of his emotions at home. Laura wouldn’t be a problem, once he’d talked with her.
Feeling lighter and more optimistic than he had in years, Alec headed back to his office. As usual, his secretary was hard at work. He would miss her, he realized with surprise.
“Good morning, Sharon. You’re looking very well today.”
She lifted startled brown eyes from the letter she’d been typing. “Th-thank you, Mr. McDonald.” Fluttery fingers reached up to her iron gray coif, then drifted down to her matronly purple-flowered bosom. She clutched her strand of beads as if it were a rosary. “Are you feeling all right, sir?”
“Never better.” He perched in companionable silence on the corner of her desk and noticed her empty ceramic mug. “Would you like some more coffee? I was about to get myself a cup.”
She opened and closed her mouth, then shook her head.
“No? Well, when you finish that letter, I need you to run over to Human Resources and pick up something for me.” He plucked a pencil and pad from beside the telephone, scribbled a quick note and ripped off the top sheet. “Give this to Mrs. Layton and tell her I need the file immediately please.” He slipped off the desk and held out his hand.
Sharon stared as if he’d sprouted a wart on his nose, then snatched the note from his fingertips. What in God’s name was wrong with the woman?
Twenty minutes later, all thoughts of her odd behavior fled when she handed him a large manila folder. He studied the tab labeled Laura J. Hayes and drew a deep breath. If he was stuck with a hand grenade like Laura for an indefinite amount of time, the more he knew about her the less likely he would accidentally pull the pin. Leaning back, he opened the file.
She was twenty-six, he learned with surprise. Her extraordinary confidence had fooled him into thinking her older, although her complexion should have clued him in. He found her guileless scrubbed innocence rather refreshing, actually. Especially after the hours he’d spent watching Susan preen in front of a mirror.
Tightening his mouth, Alec returned his focus to the file in his lap. If he’d ever doubted Laura’s intelligence, which he hadn’t, her résumé would have dispelled any questions on that score.
She’d received an academic scholarship to the University of Texas at Austin, graduating magna cum laude a full year early with a BS in advertising. It had taken three years, instead of the usual two, for her to earn her master’s degree in marketing, but obviously not because of scholastic difficulties. She’d graduated in the top quarter of her class.
Past hobbies included intramural softball and singing with a rock band. He raised an eyebrow at that, then frowned at a series of complaints she’d filed against Tom Marsh. If Alec hadn’t already resigned, he would get to the bottom of the creative director’s antipathy toward her. As it was, she wouldn’t have to worry about Tom any longer. Alec was a different story.
Sifting through the remaining papers, he was on the verge of closing the folder when a single sheet of elegant embossed stationery caught his eye. He pulled out the letter of recommendation and noted its signature with a sense of awe. No wonder Laura’s proposal had been impressive. She’d studied under Professor Fisher, a world-renowned authority on the subject of cultural trends and life-style targeting.
Scanning the letter quickly, Alec’s eyes widened at the closing paragraph: “During several joint endeavors, I have found Ms. Hayes to be a logical thinker, a self-disciplined student and an even-tempered companion. In short, an ideal partner.”
An ideal partner.
The unfamiliar gurgling sensation
swelled in Alec’s chest and filtered through his vocal chords in the form of a deep rumbling chuckle. Giving in to the overriding impulse, he threw back his head and gave a great belly laugh for the first time in seventeen years.
Just beyond his closed door, a ceramic mug crashed to the floor.
* * *
LAURA SHOOK the empty can and stopped herself short. Idiot. Like the coffee fairy would have visited her kitchen between last night and this morning.
Thank heavens it was Saturday and she had the weekend to pull herself together. As Alec had guessed, her offer the day before of two weeks’ notice had been flatly rejected. She shuddered at the memory of Mr. Marsh’s hostile glare as she packed her personal supplies and departed with cowardly haste.
Grabbing a box of tea bags from the pantry shelf, she turned to her tiny stove and prayed the gas jet would ignite without a match. For once the finicky burner cooperated. Setting the teakettle on it, she stepped back and leaned against the opposite counter to watch for the first feeble wisps of rising steam.
Three days ago her biggest professional challenge was writing a catchy Yellow Page headline. Yet Monday she was due at Alec’s house bright and early to begin the daunting task of launching a new agency. Talk about sink or swim. She’d expected to have more time before—
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Laura jerked back, hitting her head against the cabinet door she’d left open. Darn efficiency apartment. No space, and no peace. The knocking on her neighbor’s door came through loud and clear.
Pulling down a chipped mug, she dropped in a tea bag and poured steaming water over the fragrant leaves. Not as good as coffee, but at least it was caffeine. She shuffled into the bedroom cum living/dining room and sank into her only chair.
Bang! Bang! Bang! “Brenda Lee?”
Laura frowned at the sound of an angry male voice so close to her own front door. Why didn’t her neighbor answer? Surely ten o’clock was late enough for Brenda Lee to be up, even if she had come home after two in the morning as usual. And awakened Laura as usual.
