Sweet Surprise: Romance Collection

by Wanda E. Brunstetter, Kristin Billerbeck, Kristy Dykes, Aisha Ford, Birdie L. Etchison, Pamela Griffin, Joyce Livingston, Tamela Hancock Murray

  Coward!

  Mrs. Emerson broke into her thoughts. “Thank you for meeting with us today,” she said, extending her hand.

  “Us?”

  “Yes. My son, Sebastian, will be in momentarily,” Mrs. Emerson assured. “In the meantime, I’ve already looked over your sample photos. I must say, they are quite impressive.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Emerson. I do my best to create memorable photographs.” She handed the older woman a formal portfolio of her best photos. “I also have examples of my most recent work here, if you care to see them.”

  “Certainly.” Mrs. Emerson took the portfolio. “Please, call me Rhoda.” She sat down in the executive chair behind a large desk, but not before motioning for Gwendolyn to take her seat in a nearby leather chair. Gwendolyn watched as Rhoda flipped through the book. “Hmm,” she said.

  “You have a question?”

  “I notice that your professional portfolio includes weddings and portraits, but no commercial ads.”

  Gwendolyn swallowed. She knew when she agreed to the interview that Rhoda might mention her lack of commercial experience, but this woman cut right to the chase! “I was an assistant at Bruce Studios for five years,” she answered.

  At that moment, the young photographer was glad to see that Rhoda apparently didn’t make the connection that Gwendolyn and Bruce shared the same last name. “You might know us. I mean, them.” Calling the people at Bruce’s studio “them” instead of “we” seemed strange. “They” were her work family. And her friends. She cleared her throat.

  “Yes, I am familiar with them. Your association was one of the main reasons why I was willing to give you a chance.”

  Oh, great. I’ll never get out from under his shadow.

  Rhoda flipped through to the last picture. “And, I do like the artistic shots you included.”

  Rhoda’s compliment gave Gwendolyn courage. Maybe she did have a grain of talent, after all. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “Oh, don’t ‘ma’am’ me.” She waved at Gwendolyn as if the gesture would cause the offending reference to disappear. She shoved a box in her direction. Gwendolyn’s inspection revealed that it contained individually wrapped brownies.

  “All right, Rhoda.” Gwendolyn selected a tempting piece of cake loaded with frosting and chocolate chips. “Thank you.” She nodded toward her portfolio as Rhoda continued to flip through the pages. “My education is mentioned on my résumé. College gave me an opportunity to take artistic photos, as well. The type of creative photography that makes a print ad successful.”

  “I see.” She set the portfolio on her desk. “All of that is very commendable, but I want you to know here and now that I have my limits. I want to reach the next generation, but not at the expense of our current customers. I look at the magazine ads. This artsy stuff can be a bit much sometimes. I will not accept any campaign that doesn’t mention our product. And I don’t want to see black and white photos of anemic-looking couples crawling all over each other. I’ve heard the old adage that sex sells, and perhaps it does. But I won’t resort to that tactic to convince customers to buy our products.”

  Obviously, despite Rhoda’s willingness to argue with Sebastian, her son’s opinion held powerful sway. She resolved to remember that. “I hadn’t planned on that type of ad for you,” Gwendolyn assured Rhoda. “I’m afraid some other manufacturers have cornered the market on those. I understood I would be working with a cow and a cake.”

  “Oh, and don’t forget Bernie. The Saint Bernard.”

  “A–a Saint Bernard?”

  “Of course. We always use Bernie in our winter campaigns—unless you have a better idea.”

  “No, no,” Gwendolyn hastened to assure her. Racking her brain, she remembered seeing a Saint Bernard in past ads for DairyBaked Delights. Their popular slogan, “DairyBaked Delights to the rescue!” flashed though her memory.

  “We’re quite attached to Bernie,” Rhoda said. “My father was fond of his Saint Bernard, so he liked to use him in the ads way back when. I’ve kept up the tradition as a nod to the past.”

  “I like that.”

  Rhoda sent her a pleased smile. “If you’re as good as I think you are, I’ll be giving you more latitude later. That’s why I want you to know the rules right off the top. Love of our product is more important than art, I believe.”

  Gwendolyn’s first love was art, but she couldn’t express disagreement with her prospective client. She searched for a common denominator. “I think it does help to be familiar with a product you’re selling.”

  “Then I trust this is not the first time you’ve tried one of our products.”

  She chuckled. “No. I’m afraid I succumb too often to your baked goods. And I do thank you for making sugarless CreamDreams. They’ve gotten me through many a chocolate craving.”

  “Have they now?” Rhoda grimaced. “I’ll tell you a secret, but you didn’t hear this from me. I don’t like the sugarless stuff. But our customers sure seem to.”

  “I enjoy all your products. That is why I jumped at the chance to photograph an ad for DairyBaked Delights,” Gwendolyn said.

  “Really?” Rhoda’s expression displayed her approval.

  “Really.” Gwendolyn nodded. “Even though I want this assignment, I wouldn’t lie to get it.”

  Job 32:21–22 popped into her mind. “I will show no partiality, nor will I flatter anyone; for if I were skilled in flattery, my Maker would soon take me away.”

  For the briefest of moments, she considered sharing the verse with Mrs. Emerson. Just as quickly, the thought vacated her head. No need to appear any more self-righteous than she already had.

  “Good.” Rhoda’s expression softened from that of a tough businesswoman to a mother hen’s. “I didn’t think you looked like someone who would resort to deceit.”

  “Never.” Seeing Rhoda’s friendly expression, she decided to take a chance. “I’m a Christian.”

  Rhoda’s face lit up. “Even better.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “We’re not supposed to ask, you know.” She leaned even closer and lowered her voice another notch. “I do believe you are the perfect photographer to take us into our next phase of development. Don’t tell anyone, but we’re planning to—”

  An interior door to their left creaked open. Startled by the unexpected intrusion, Rhoda and Gwendolyn both nearly jumped out of their chairs as they looked in the direction of the sound.

  Rhoda leaned back, swiveled her chair, and smiled too broadly. “There you are, Sebastian.” Her voice was louder than necessary.

  Gwendolyn shot her gaze to the door through which Sebastian entered the office. She stood in anticipation of a handshake and mustered a smile for her opponent.

  Chapter 2

  G wendolyn had to compose herself from taking in a noticeable breath of surprise and pleasure upon spying her adversary. Sebastian Emerson appeared nothing like the bellowing troll she had heard protesting her existence. Despite his reminiscence of Grandpa and his old-fashioned attitude of thrift, Gwen-dolyn could see by his youthful appearance that Sebastian had not yet celebrated his thirtieth birthday. Sebastian was one of the rare men who was several inches taller than Gwendolyn. A dark suit nipped at the waist accentuated his broad chest and shoulders, suggesting hours spent lifting weights. Deep brown hair was cropped to perfection. She couldn’t resist staring up into Sebastian’s gray-blue eyes.

  A spark of interest ignited as he returned her look, only to fade as he apparently remembered he was supposed to be against her. “So you are the photographer.” His voice was curt.

  So much for a friendly greeting.

  His mother gave Sebastian a warning look before turning to Gwendolyn. “This is my son, Sebastian Emerson.”

  “How do you do, Mr. Emerson.” Remembering that most men don’t offer their hands in greeting to a woman unless she makes the gesture first, Gwendolyn extended her hand. Sebastian might have been a rival, but she wouldn’t stoop to abandoning her manner
s.

  He took her hand. His grip proved to be firm and businesslike, though more warm and pleasant than she expected. “You may call me Sebastian. Mr. Emerson is my father.” The smile Sebastian gave her in return was warm enough to make Gwendolyn wonder if Rhoda’s son could somehow be molded into a real human. He even went so far as to motion Gwendolyn to one of the seats situated in front of his mother’s desk, then sat beside her.

  “Gwendolyn,” said Mrs. Emerson, who had seated herself in the spacious executive chair behind her desk, “Sebastian is our VP.”

  “Supposedly,” Sebastian muttered.

  Gwendolyn knew her expression betrayed her surprise at his comment. She tried to contort it back to normal.

  “Unlike yourself, the VP didn’t find out about the new ad campaign until this morning,” Sebastian said in an aside to Gwendolyn.

  “Sebastian doesn’t like surprises,” Rhoda explained. “But never mind that. The important thing is the photo shoot. Gwendolyn, as we discussed earlier, you’ll be working with Pansy during the first shoot. You are familiar with Pansy, I’m sure.”

  “I assume she’s the dairy cow who’s been your symbol for a while.”

  “Exactly. You and Pansy will be selling these.” Rhoda handed Gwendolyn two stuffed toys that had been sitting on her desk. One was a white-and-brown cow, and the other was a Saint Bernard with a small plastic barrel that mimicked wood around his neck.

  “How cute!”

  “We think so.” Rhoda smiled. “This little toy is free with three proofs of purchase and $1.99 postage and handling. Not a bad deal, don’t you agree?”

  “Not a bad deal at all.”

  “I was told you’re good with animals,” Rhoda said.

  She hesitated. “I haven’t had the opportunity to work with a cow,” she had to admit, “but I look forward to meeting Pansy.”

  Gwendolyn cut her glance to Sebastian long enough to ascertain his response to her answer. Instead of the disapproval she dreaded, she caught him in a tender look, studying her as though he were eager to memorize her features. His unspoken message sent embers that made her skin tingle hot before he focused his attention back to the business at hand.

  “As I’m sure you know,” Rhoda droned, “we’re hoping the new campaign will increase our fall sales well into winter.”

  Gwendolyn nodded. “People love to have lots of baked goods to serve when they entertain.”

  “Especially over the hectic Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays,” Rhoda agreed. “And we do have a superb line of kosher products for Hanukkah as well. I’m sure you realize that many of today’s women don’t have time to do their own baking.”

  “And that’s where DairyBaked Delights comes to the rescue,” Gwendolyn pointed out.

  Rhoda chuckled. “I’m glad to see you’ve just about memorized our ad copy.”

  “I make it my business to know as much as I can about my clients.”

  “You’re a young woman after my own heart. It sounds as though we’re off to a great beginning. And if the first shoot increases our sales,” Rhoda added, “we’ll be calling upon you for a second shooting. Then you’ll be well on your way to a long-term position as our photographer for DairyBaked Delights.”

  “That would be wonderful.” Gwendolyn cut her gaze to Sebastian long enough to see if he would object. Thankfully, he said nothing. She breathed an inward sigh of relief that she hoped didn’t show on her face.

  Rhoda stood. Sebastian and Gwendolyn followed suit.

  Rhoda eyed her from head to toe. “You certainly are statuesque, more like a model than a photographer. It’s a wonder you stay behind the camera. You’re as pretty as many of the girls in the glamour magazines.”

  “That hardly matters, Mother,” Sebastian reminded her.

  “Don’t pay any attention to my son,” Rhoda told Gwendolyn. “He seems to have some difficulties dealing with humans.”

  “Don’t we all, at one time or another?” Glancing at Sebastian’s physique, its fine tone evident even under his suit, Gwendolyn had a sudden thought. “Sebastian, have you ever considered modeling?”

  “You have the job, Miss Warner. There’s no need to resort to flattery.” Though she knew Sebastian wanted her to think he had been insulted by her remark, Gwendolyn noticed his face held a shadow of pleasure.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Sebastian,” Rhoda chastised, “you are the one who ought to apologize for being so ungracious. I taught you better than that.”

  “I know.” He set his handsome face in Gwendolyn’s direction. “Sorry. Thanks for the compliment.”

  “Maybe my compliment was my way of saying that I just want you to be comfortable with the way your company is presented to the public.” She hoped her explanation, despite its incoherent logic, absolved her from her unintentional expression of interest in her new boss. “Your mother has already told me that she doesn’t want anything too artsy or with blatant sex appeal.”

  “Right.” He nodded.

  “I think what you have in mind is just the approach for your product. However,” she continued, “you’ve seen the trend of company leaders going directly to the public.” And none of them are nearly as attractive as you are.

  Her idea took her by surprise. Gwendolyn lost her train of thought. “And I–I—”

  “You what?” he asked. “You’re suggesting that I should appear in our ads?”

  “That’s not such a bad idea, Sebastian,” Rhoda intervened. “Why don’t you consider it?”

  “No thanks. Vanity is not one of my weak points.” Sebastian surveyed Gwendolyn, his eyes glimmering. “Judging by how you’re thin as a reed, you must not ever indulge in baked goods.”

  “Then you don’t know me very well.” She placed her hand on her hip. “I have a huge sweet tooth.”

  “You wouldn’t know it to look at you.”

  She decided not to acknowledge his backhanded compliment. “I can prove it. When we shoot the ad next week, I’ll bring the best dessert you ever put in your mouth!”

  Sebastian’s eyebrows arched. “Really?”

  “Yes. And if you don’t like it, you can fire me.” She extended her freshly manicured hand for a shake to seal the deal. When he grasped her fingers, the touch of his warm flesh sent renewed sparks through to her heart. She hoped the gentle squeeze he gave her hand wasn’t a figment of her imagination.

  Clutching her portfolio, Gwendolyn headed to the car. In case they were watching, Gwendolyn kept her step light until she slid behind the driver’s seat, well out of the range of prying eyes. After placing her portfolio in the passenger seat, she crossed her arms over the unfeeling steering wheel and laid her forehead upon them.

  “Now what will I do?” Gwendolyn wailed to the horn. “I have no idea how to cook!”

  Chapter 3

  S tanding in front of her bathroom mirror on the Saturday night before Monday morning’s photo shoot, Gwendolyn looked at her face one last time as she prepared to wash most of its color down the drain. Light foundation, golden brown eye shadow, brown mascara, coral lipstick, and peach-colored blush accentuated her features. After she removed such enhancements, she noticed that she looked younger than her twenty-five years. Did she look like a professional photographer—one who owned her studio—not just a wannabe spending too much of her savings to finance a dream that might prove to be nothing more than pie in the sky?

  She sighed. Putting the shoot together—a vision based on her own idea—had proven expensive and time consuming. Thankfully, her assistant, Fernando, was still in college and eager to work cheaply in exchange for experience and a good reference. Fernando had spent the entire week setting up the scene in the small warehouse space she had rented so Pansy wouldn’t ruin her studio in the city. Not to mention she couldn’t imagine a cow roaming the streets of the nation’s capital.

  Besides hard work, Fernando offered her some amusement. Taking advantage of his dark wavy hair and olive complexion, he had changed his name to Ferna
ndo from what he considered a less than glamorous moniker, Chip. In keeping with the change, he often tried to act as though he had just gotten off the boat—or, rather, the jet—from Milan.

  To her relief, the warehouse was already prepared for Pansy’s arrival in two days. She pictured the scene. A backdrop depicting snow was in place. Artificial snow was ready to be fanned over the scene to create the effect of a winter storm. The look was so realistic that a pleasant shiver traveled up her spine as she remembered happy times playing in snow. She had envisioned just how she would situate the cow and the model she had hired. She felt nervous about Sebastian’s mandate regarding sex appeal. With his concerns in mind, Gwendolyn had spent hours poring over photos of available models. She selected a beauty of understated elegance—a brunette with the right kind of wholesomeness. Surely Sebastian would be pleased.

  Not too pleased, I hope.

  Her cheeks flushed hot. I’m not jealous. No way. Now where did that thought come from?

  Determined not to dwell on her traitorous heart, she concentrated on how she would impose an image of the product itself onto the scene after the photos were shot.

  She sent up a prayer to cover the photo shoot, added her thanks for Fernando, and reminded herself that she’d be giving him a nice Christmas bonus should the DairyBaked Delights account prove profitable.

  Freshened in body and spirit, Gwendolyn decided to indulge in a cup of herbal tea before going to bed. Waiting for the water to heat, she sat at the table in the portion of the kitchen that doubled as a dining area in her small apartment. A batch of the latest fashion and beauty magazines heaped on the counter was too tempting to ignore. These popular publications were those in which she dreamed her photos would appear. Instead, she was fighting for a chance to photograph ads for a tiny bakery situated beyond the growing suburbs of the nation’s capital city, in the middle of what was still Virginia farmland.

  Certainly, the advertising campaign had enough money behind it to offer her a break. Even the first photo shoot guaranteed she would appear often over the next few weeks in the Washington Post, the Richmond Times-Dispatch, plus smaller local newspapers. Rhoda had even said the ad would be run in color in at least two Sunday editions of both of the larger papers. DairyBaked Delights planned to place a full-page glossy in several regional magazines. Such exposure should have excited Gwendolyn, yet it wasn’t enough. She knew her brother wouldn’t be impressed unless she surpassed his success by making the big time. That meant going to New York, Paris, and Milan to shoot photos for famous fashion designers and internationally known products.