IT TAKES A REBEL

by Stephanie Bond

  What he needed was distance from her. Maybe if he took a trip, gave her time to marry Reddinger…

  His phone beeped, which meant Tuesday had patched a call through to his line.

  “Jack Stillman,” he said into the handset.

  “Jack, it’s Al Tremont.”

  “Hey, Mr. T., what can I do for you?”

  “Just calling with good news, son. The focus group gave the commercials a big thumbs-up, highest marks possible.”

  “That’s great, sir.”

  “So, with that little formality behind us, we need to sit down and negotiate a long-term contract with your agency, and for you to be the exclusive Tremont’s spokesman! The marketing department is gearing up for billboards, personal appearances, you name it.”

  Jack’s stomach clenched. “Mr. T., I need to talk to you about that. Of course, the agency would be honored to handle your business, but … I’m bowing out as spokesman.”

  Al made a choking sound. “What? I don’t understand.”

  “I’ll honor the contract we signed giving Tremont’s permission to use the spots that were filmed, but that’s the end of it for me.”

  “But why, son?”

  “It’s complicated, sir.”

  “It’s Alex, isn’t it?”

  Jack blinked. How much did her father know? “I don’t know if you’ve talked to Alex about it—”

  “Yes,” Al cut in. “I know it puts you in an awkward situation, son, but I was hoping the two of you could work together despite the, um, problem.”

  Damn, maybe they were closer than he’d assumed. “Please don’t take offense, sir, but I simply can’t work under these circumstances. I’ll hand off your account to Derek, and I’m sure you’ll find a new spokesperson soon.”

  Al cleared his throat with a low rumble. “I don’t think you understand, son. It’s you I want, not your agency. I can get just about anyone to come up with a catchy slogan and draw me a few pictures, but I want Jack the Attack representing the store.”

  Stunned, Jack sat in silence. Just as he’d suspected.

  “To put it plainly, Jack—no endorsement, no advertising account. And if it sweetens the pot a little, you won’t be working with Alex. You’ll be working with our new vice president of marketing and sales, Bobby Warner.”

  So Alex hadn’t received the promotion.

  “What do you say, Jack? Are you in?”

  Jack sighed, and although anger drummed through his veins, he could imagine the disappointment on Derek’s face when he told him they’d lost the account.

  “Sure, Mr. T. I’m in.”

  *

  She loved him. A person got a lot of thinking done in the course of three sleepless nights, and after dissecting Sammy Richardson’s advice during the commercial shoot, Alex had come to a frightening conclusion. She, the woman who prided herself on forging a stable future on all fronts, had fallen for a motorcycle-riding rebel who would soon be voluntarily homeless and had no intention of settling down with one woman.

  And with the overwhelmingly positive response from the focus group, it looked as if Jack would not only be their spokesman, but would be handling their advertising account to boot. She’d kept her word to her father, and although she’d underestimated Jack’s ability, she was willing to concede that having him as a spokesman might give them the sales boost they needed.

  She’d simply have to find a way to disguise her feelings for Jack and work with him until she could arrange to hand off the ad agency liaison responsibilities. The future seemed a little vague, but of one thing she was certain—when Heath returned from Cincinnati this afternoon, she would break their engagement.

  Funny, how her feelings for him—or rather, her lack of feelings for him—now seemed so crystal clear relative to her feelings for Jack. She realized how much she and Heath had been robbing each other of a wonderful experience. Heath deserved someone who loved him the way she loved Jack—wildly and unreasonably. If Heath truly loved her, which, upon reflection of their relationship, she doubted, then he would eventually get over her, just as she would eventually get over Jack.

  “Alex,” her father said, striding into her office without the courtesy of a knock. His face was flushed scarlet, and she was immediately concerned for his health.

  “Yes, Dad?”

  “I just wanted you to know that you almost cost us an ace spokesman.”

  She frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I just got off the phone with Jack Stillman, and he was ready to decline a long-term contract for spokesman because he said he couldn’t work with you anymore.”

  Confusion, hurt, anger—her mixed emotions, tripped her tongue. “I d-don’t understand.”

  “You promised me,” her father said, his tone low and accusing. “You promised me that you would work with him, and now I find out that you’ve been so difficult, he doesn’t want to work with Tremont’s at all.”

  Difficult? Because she’d slept with him? Did Jack now find the situation too awkward? Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound emerged.

  “All because you were determined to sign some high and mighty advertising agency from St. Louis,” he added.

  “I had no idea Jack felt that way,” she murmured, standing on shaky knees. “But if you feel so strongly about haying Jack Stillman as spokesman—”

  “You know I do!”

  She swallowed. “I was planning to step aside and let someone else work with the ad agency.”

  “There’s no need,” her father said, laying a memo on her desk. “Bobby Warner was just named vice president of sales & marketing, and he’ll be taking over those duties.” He exited as he’d entered, without preamble.

  Stunned, Alex sat down to read the memo, disappointment coursing through her. Stinging from her father’s words and Jack’s betrayal, she swung her chair around to face her computer, and put her fingers on the keyboard.

  Through a blur of tears, she typed a short letter of resignation from the company she loved. Her father’s attitude had made one thing perfectly clear—she could no longer work in this environment, yearning for the love of two men she’d never have.

  A few minutes later, a knock sounded at her door. Sniffing quickly, Alex looked up to see Heath stick his head in. “I heard,” he said softly. “Can I come in?”

  She nodded, her stomach churning. “When did you get back?”

  “Just now. I’m sorry about the vice presidency, Alex, but in light of my news, it might be for the best.”

  She frowned. “What news?”

  His smile was a bit shaky. “One of the reasons I’ve been spending a lot of time in Cincinnati lately is because the bank where the store has its accounts has offered me a job. A great job.”

  Unable to hide her surprise, she asked, “Why haven’t you said anything?”

  He shrugged. “I was afraid it wouldn’t pan out, and I didn’t want you or your dad thinking I wasn’t being loyal. I know this company means everything to you.”

  “Heath, I just typed my letter of resignation.”

  “What?” His expression changed from surprise to elation.

  “That’s wonderful! Now we can both go to Cincinnati—I know you’ll be able to find a terrific job there, Alex.”

  She looked at Heath, his cheeks pink from excitement, his eyes shining with enthusiasm. They could make a clean break from Tremont’s, from Lexington, from her father, from Jack. Could their relationship be salvaged? Alex bit down hard on her lip, wavering.

  *

  Chapter 17

  « ^ »

  To get his mind off Alex that afternoon, Jack threw himself into the paperwork on his desk, finishing tasks as fast as Tuesday could stack them in front of him.

  “I don’t know what’s gotten into you,” she said, finger wagging, “but I hope it’s chronic.”

  Jack sighed. The last thing he needed was a persistent dose of the hots for Alex Tremont. “Would you mind labeling folders for the accounts we’ll be calling
on next week? I need to file some information I found on the Internet.”

  “One step ahead of you,” she said cheerfully, setting the stack of labeled folders on the edge of his desk.

  Jack smiled. “Thanks.”

  “Do you mind if I take off a little early? Reggie wants me to meet his girlfriend tonight, so he’s taking us out to dinner.”

  “Have a great time,” Jack said, lifting his hand in a wave. As he picked up the folders, he realized how valuable the woman had become to him and to the business in such a short time. He liked her no-nonsense attitude and her spunk, and he wanted to keep her around.

  “Tuesday.”

  She turned back. “Yes?”

  He reached into his pocket and removed a spare door key from his keyring, then tossed it to her. “You’re hired.”

  She caught the key neatly, and a grin spread over her face. “Thank you, sir. I’ll see you first thing in the morning.” She fairly danced through the swinging doors and a few seconds later he heard the bell on the front door jangle as she left.

  Jack turned back to his computer, whistling under his breath, realizing that by hiring an office manager, he’d made a commitment to grow their business. The idea of being spokesman for Tremont’s was sinking in—the money would be good, and would allow him to put extra money into the business, to relieve some of the pressure for Derek. And as much as he hated to admit it, being the department store spokesman would still give him a thread of a connection with Alex.

  When the bell on the door jangled again, Jack called, “Did you forget something?”

  “Yeah,” came Derek’s voice. “I think I forgot our office address because I don’t recognize this place.”

  Surprised, Jack jumped to his feet and hurried to the front, sporting a wide grin.

  Looking tanned and happy, Derek and his new wife Janine stood in the front office, staring at the changes.

  “You’re home early,” Jack said, pumping his brother’s hand and lifting the blond Janine off her feet for a bear hug.

  “Janine had to get back to see a doctor,” Derek said, sliding an arm around her waist.

  “Are you sick?” Jack asked, immediately concerned for his new sister.

  “No.” She beamed. “I’m pregnant!”

  Elated, Jack clapped his brother on the back. “That didn’t take long.”

  “Well,” Derek said, a little sheepish, “we did have a long honeymoon.”

  “And a tiny head start,” Janine said, holding up her thumb and forefinger.

  “Shh,” Derek chastised, but grinned anyway.

  “Mother will have quite a surprise when she gets back,” Jack said.

  His brother nodded, then gestured to the office. “Speaking of surprises…”

  “Oh, yeah,” Jack said, “come on back and I’ll show you around. The IRS auditor left this morning—we’re in good shape—and Tuesday will be back first thing in the morning.”

  “Tuesday—you mean that woman who wandered in off the street?”

  Jack dismissed his concern with a wave. “You’ll love her.”

  Derek was impressed with the new furniture and equipment, but his first concern, of course, was cost.

  “Already paid for,” Jack assured him. “Compliments of Keeneland.”

  His brother laughed, shaking his head. When Janine excused herself to visit the restroom—Derek said she’d been doing a lot of that lately—his brother asked about the Tremont’s account.

  “The focus group results for the commercials came back today—we’re in. Al Tremont wants us to meet next week to negotiate a long-term contract.”

  “That’s great, Jack! Do you have some stills?”

  Jack hesitated, then fished out the thick folder of photographs from the Tremont shoot and handed it to his brother.

  Derek frowned. “These are all of you!”

  “Sit down,” Jack said, gesturing to a chair. He caught his brother up on the details of the spokesman-ad account tie-in as quickly as possible, leaving out the sordid details of his association with Alex.

  Her brother squinted and scratched his head. “You’re modeling now?”

  Jack sighed. “It’s not modeling.”

  “Well, whatever, it must have impressed the daughter.”

  Jack averted his gaze and nodded.

  “What?” Derek asked.

  “What do you mean, what?”

  “That look.”

  “What look?”

  “That I-got-a-woman-problem look.”

  Jack crossed his hands behind his head. “Not me, man.”

  Derek leaned forward in his chair and stared at Jack until he squirmed and cracked his knuckles in one sweeping motion. “You did it, didn’t you?”

  Jack frowned. “Did what?”

  “Slept with her.”

  He stood and walked around to lean on the front of his desk, then sighed. “Okay, yeah.”

  His brother winced. “Ah, man! Tell me you didn’t do it to get the business.”

  “Of course not!”

  “So how will this affect your ability to work on the account? Does her father know?”

  “He seems to know—”

  “Christ, she told him?”

  “I don’t know, maybe she told her boyfriend, and he told her father.”

  Derek quirked an eyebrow. “Are the two men close?”

  Jack cleared his throat. “Her boyfriend is the CFO.”

  “Oh, now there’s a smooth move.” Derek threw up his hands. “What were you thinking?”

  Jack scowled. “That I could have this extremely pleasant conversation when you found out.”

  Derek shrugged. “Oh, well, if Tremont knows and he offered you the account anyway—”

  “I won’t be working directly with the daughter anymore.” He picked up the minibasketball and tossed it toward the hoop. It bounced off the rim and rolled into a corner.

  “And, um, how do you feel about that?”

  Jack retrieved the ball and threw it up again. “When did you become a shrink?” The ball glanced off the rim again and bounced back to Derek.

  “Since you became a case,” his brother said, sending the ball swishing through the net. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were acting as if you were hung up on this woman.”

  “And how am I acting?”

  Derek crossed his arms and looked around the back office, taking in the new decor and the new computer equipment, the stack of completed paperwork on Jack’s desk, and Jack’s clothing—part of his Tremont’s wardrobe. “Grown up.”

  “Oh, very funny.”

  “Enough, Jack,” Derek said, his voice low and serious. “Tell me about this woman.”

  Jack dragged his hand down his face, willing to confess to murder if it would take away the nagging tightness in his chest. “Alex is … different.”

  “Oh, hell.”

  “Do you want to hear this or not?”

  “Sorry, go ahead.”

  He sighed, struggling to put into words the kinds of abstract things that had been floating through his mind like confetti. “Alex is … smart. And straight-laced. And she wears her hair in this tight little bun, except when she’s on the bike with me…” He groaned, realizing he sounded like a bad lyricist.

  Derek laughed. “I don’t believe it. My little brother has fallen in love.”

  Jack jerked his head up. “Love? Whoa, I didn’t say anything about love.”

  “Who’s in love?” Janine asked, rejoining them.

  Derek jerked his thumb toward Jack.

  “Wait a minute!”

  “Who is she?”

  “His boss.”

  “That’s not true!”

  Janine grinned. “Is she in love with you, Jack?”

  He frowned, objecting to the direction the conversation had taken. “I kind of doubt it, seeing how she’s engaged to another man.”

  She slipped her arm around Derek’s waist and gave him a squeeze. “Speaking from experience, so
metimes a person doesn’t realize they’re settling until they meet the person they’re really meant to love.”

  Out of respect, Jack didn’t roll his eyes.

  His brother winked. “You’d better let her know how you feel, Jack.”

  He scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

  “I know it sounds scary, but believe me, man, it’s the not telling that’ll eat you up.” He smiled down at his wife and patted her stomach. “Ready to go home, sweetheart?”

  She nodded, and they left, arm and arm, heads together, footsteps in synch. Jack watched, marveling at the change in his brother. He always thought his brother would settle down with a demure mouse, not a blond siren. But bubbly Janine had really brought out Derek’s lighter side. In fact, they were complete opposites, just like—

  On the other hand, lots of people were opposites, and it didn’t mean they were in love.

  Massaging the tightness just below his breastbone, Jack retrieved the basketball and spun it on the tip of his finger as his brother’s and sister-in-law’s words reverberated in his head. You’d better let her know how you feel … it’s the not telling that’ll eat you up.

  But did he love her?

  Jack eyed the basketball hoop and pursed his mouth. L-O-V-E. Four letters, four baskets. If he made them all, he might call, just to feel her up—er, out. And just to make it fair, he would close one eye and use his left hand.

  He tossed the L ball.

  Swish.

  Dammit.

  He tossed the O ball.

  Swish.

  Dammit.

  He tossed the V ball.

  Swish.

  Dammit.

  He tossed the E ball.

  It rolled around the rim once, twice, three times … then popped out.

  “Yeeesssss!” he shouted, pumping the air with his fist. He dropped back into his chair and waited for the relief to wash over him. Instead, his chest resumed its dull ache. He stared at the phone, then the clock. Four-thirty on Thursday afternoon. No doubt she was still at the office, possibly making plans to go out with Reddinger.

  He could always call her and say it had been nice working with her, he reasoned, and picked up the phone.