by Robyn Grady
Removing the Montblanc hitched behind one ear, David furrowed his brow and tapped Serena’s A-grade print proposal with the pen.
If he decided to push it and pursue an intimate relationship, which he could taste he wanted it so bad, and Serena agreed, what happened if she somehow screwed up the campaign? There were numerous ways a blunder could still happen before Jezz was back on deck. How would that affect his relationship with his clients? With his colleagues in the industry?
They’d say he was driven by his head, and not the one on his shoulders. Everyone would recall how he’d been just as brainless when he’d hedged all his bets on Olivia and had lost so badly on that hand. He’d been young and foolish the first time. What excuse would he have now?
Then again, if this campaign went belly up, he wouldn’t have to worry about gossip. He’d be out of business and this time there’d be no second chance.
‘Is that okay with you, David?’
He started. Rather than admit to being on another planet, he rocked forward, grunting along the lines of, ‘Sure, Serena. That’s fine.’
He fell back into his previous train of thought, his gaze washing over her bewitching face then body as she scooted back her chair to round the table and continue relaying her top-notch ideas.
He sponged up the keen sparkle of her eyes, the slim energetic line of her limbs, the way those low-waist dress pants hugged her shape as though they’d been stitched with only her hips in mind. A glimpse of her tanned tummy was visible below a stretchy white blouse. Every so often a belly bauble glittered as though winking at him. Normally he’d consider that too younger generation for his taste. Yet on Serena it only served to complement one highly irresistible package.
Then there was her breezy manner. That tinkling laugh. The mask of concentration when she lodged a pencil between her teeth and stared at the floor while considering some important point. How her eyes shone, as they did now, with a passion he craved to know intimately again. It made him want to sweep her up, escape somewhere, and forget everyone and everything but her. Her embrace, her abandon, her hands clasping his neck as they both spiralled up into glittering space.
The death grip on his pen eased.
The answer was really very simple. He needed to kiss Serena Stevens. No, more than kiss her. Bed her. Have her again. Unwrap the clothes from her body and make uncensored love to her flesh and to her mind. If not as an ongoing relationship, which clearly was best, then just one more time.
He’d find a way to make certain that was enough.
He didn’t realize the meeting had finished. As people milled past he pushed out of his seat to catch Serena.
She gazed over at him with her usual dimpled smile as they moved together out the room, but something subtle about that expression had changed and he couldn’t quite put his finger on what. Maybe it was because he saw her differently now. Maybe it was because she did.
He straightened his tie. ‘Have you spoken with Jezz this morning?’ They only talked shop these days. Safer than innuendo, certainly, but not nearly as much fun. ‘Will she make it to the launch tomorrow night?’
The promotional launch of Hits would be held at David’s large, some might say palatial, home. The two-storey Mediterranean-style dwelling, complete with all the trappings of luxury, was perfect for his company’s high-profile occasions, like tomorrow evening’s soirée.
Arms full of folders, gaze dead ahead, Serena moved down the corridor. ‘Jezz’s leg is still giving her trouble. She’s on antibiotics.’
‘We won’t see her tomorrow night, then?’
‘I’m hoping so, but maybe not.’
‘Which means you’ll have to take front seat there as well.’
‘You don’t think I’m up to it?’
Since the booth incident, Serena’s attitude had changed. More assertive and confident. Great. But sometimes, like now, she could sound defensive or annoyed. About their night together? No reason to be—she’d enjoyed herself as much as he had. And she’d been the one to set the one-time-only rule, even when he’d let her know he was open to the suggestion of seeing her privately again.
As to her handling the launch responsibilities, naturally he’d expect her to be nervous about taking the lead in front of hundreds of inquisitive strangers. But he’d be there to support her.
‘You’ll do fine,’ he assured her. ‘The crowd will lap you up.’ Her smile could be more convincing, so he added, ‘The guest list is impressive. Reviewers, agents, reporters, recording executives, international acts visiting the country. You’ve done a great job getting it together.’
Serena simply nodded.
Was she that daunted by the idea of playing hostess to the crème-de-la-crème crowd? He wouldn’t have been surprised a month ago, but she seemed to have grown so much since then.
She shifted the folders in her arms as they passed the water cooler. ‘Will Rachel be there?’
He nodded. ‘My other clients would expect it.’ An ugly thought struck. ‘Has she been behaving herself?’
No reports of her jealousy over Serena being awarded the campaign had leaked back to him thus far. Even given her bouts of brilliance, his judgment must have been in the john the day he’d given Rachel Bragg that five-year contract. Far too temperamental. He didn’t know a single person in the company who got along with her, including him. He’d give his lawyers another call. That woman had an ego the size of China, but surely if he offered a big enough cheque she’d bow out.
‘I can handle Rachel,’ Serena told him.
David reached to scoop the folders from her arms. She hesitated a moment at the contact, before giving in to hand them over.
‘Anything I need to know before the launch kicks off?’ he asked.
Serena shook out her arms as she strolled beside him. ‘A few catering details need sorting out. But other than that, all systems are go.’
‘Good, good.’ David nodded over, a lame grin stuck on his dial, when all he wanted to do was bury his face in the sweeps of hair spilling over her shoulders and nuzzle the perfumed slope of her neck. His gaze skied down the length of one toned, tanned arm. Already he could taste the honeyed landscape of her skin.
For the hundredth time he asked himself: how did Serena feel about him now? They’d never discussed the booth incident. They’d agreed it was best. But more and more he felt compelled to break the silence. Beneath this new polished exterior, was she in as much torment as him?
He followed Serena through into an office originally intended for Jezz. She gestured to the credenza and he placed his bundle next to a whirring fax machine, which was busy spitting out a string of quotes from an exclusive model agency.
‘You’ve worked hard these past weeks.’ He slapped any grit from his hands and faced her. ‘The weekend will be full on. Why don’t you take Monday morning off? Have a facial.’ Or come to bed with me.
She seemed shocked. ‘I can’t do that.’ Her gaze flew around the room to take in the mountains of prints and copy and scripts banked up in each corner. ‘I’ve got too much to do.’
He’d closed the distance between them. But she walked around him to sit at her desk.
He’d been dismissed? His back straightened. He wasn’t ready to leave. ‘I was about to organize a coffee? Want one?’
With that almost-smile, she glanced up from the report she studied. ‘I don’t drink coffee.’
Really? ‘Why don’t I know that?’ He lived on the stuff.
She shrugged. ‘You never asked.’
He crossed the room and hooked a leg over the corner of the desk closest to her chair. She swivelled left to face him…to let him know she wasn’t intimidated? That couldn’t be right.
He smiled inside.
Or, to show she could manage the restraint as well as he could.
He jerked his chin at her desk. ‘Then what’s the mug for?’ He swept it up and read the logo painted in pink funky letters across the ceramic white. ‘Go Girl, huh?’ Cute.
&n
bsp; ‘I’ve had it a while.’ She took it from him and set it back down ‘Water. I drink lots of water throughout the day.’
He raised his brows. Good for her. ‘What do you drink at night?’ A subtle tease? So shoot him. He’d missed their word games. Didn’t she?
‘Chardonnay…’ she blinked ‘…with red soda.’
He swung his leg. ‘I have the occasional beer.’
Her nose screwed up. ‘I hate beer.’
‘Nothing better when a big game’s on.’
‘Football?’ He nodded. Her gaze didn’t falter. ‘I hate football.’
His leg stilled. She was determined to prove her point. They were different. Incompatible? But didn’t opposites attract? He leant the barest margin forward. ‘What do you like?’
Her cheeks pinked up, but her expression didn’t budge. ‘I like my work.’
‘I know that.’ He wouldn’t be put off. ‘What else?’ I know at least one thing.
Her gaze wavered. She turned back to her desk and started scribbling a lengthy note on a spreadsheet. ‘I like Thai food.’
‘So do I. Pad Thai noodles. But it’s got to have lots of chilli.’
‘I don’t like it hot.’
‘I think you do.’
She shot up from her desk. The chair flew back. Her chest went in and out in shallow little breaths. Red patches crept up her neck. ‘I have a lot to get done.’
His gaze swept over her as he took his time standing. He shouldn’t interfere with her focus; the quality of her input meant as much to him as her.
But this wasn’t over, and today he’d decided he wanted her to know it. They’d made love once and catastrophe hadn’t befallen either one of them. He could, and would, have her in his arms again. Though she wouldn’t say, to his very bones he knew she wanted that, too.
He headed for the door. ‘We’ll talk later.’
Halfway out into the corridor she called him back. ‘I almost forgot. Yesterday I spoke with a Linda Marley, a record producer.’
Turning back to listen, David drew the pen from his shirt pocket and clicked the top in and out.
‘We’ve bumped into each other a few times these past weeks,’ she explained, ‘and Linda’s come up with a great idea to stage a mini auction tomorrow night.’
The pen stopped clicking. ‘Go on.’
‘We could give out numbers and have people bid on, say, a half-dozen items. The money could go to flying an out-of-state viewer to the première show as a special guest. Give them accommodation, limo service, the whole deal. The publicity would make a sensational spread.’
As usual, David admired her enthusiasm and vision—that was why he’d hired her for this job in the first place. However, ‘A lot of organization would need to go into something like that before tomorrow night. Do you have the time?’ He doubted it. She was up to her eyeballs already.
‘I can try. Linda said she’ll give me a hand.’
He tugged an ear. ‘Have you spoken to Jezz about this?’
‘Not yet.’
David thought it through. If Serena could pull it off, the publicity would be a nice bonus. However, he didn’t want her to jeopardize the other pots she had on boil. He could trust Jezz’s opinion on this one to know exactly where Serena was at and whether this idea was feasible.
‘Run it by her and if Jezz thinks it’ll fly—’he turned to leave ‘—you got me, top to bottom.’
‘I couldn’t ask for anything more.’
What?
He spun back, but her head was buried again in paperwork. Intrigued more than ever, he moved down the corridor towards his office.
Before his night with Serena, he’d had a dry spell. Good sex was better than fine, but, as well as the sizzle, he missed the comfort of an intimate partner, speaking quietly in the darkness with someone cradled in his arms, the company of soft feminine breathing only slightly out of sync with his own. But not just any woman.
It had to be Serena.
He swept into his office and slammed the door.
Was he fooling himself? Would one more night be enough? Tomorrow he planned to find out.
CHAPTER EIGHT
RECLINED in a canvas chair on Jezz McQade’s balcony, Serena tried her best to look unconcerned at news that left her a little faint.
‘I’m so sorry, hon. Truly I am.’ Jezz tipped back in her chair and drove frustrated fingers through that flurry of red hair. ‘I wish this blasted leg would hurry up and mend, the doctor says it doesn’t look good.’
Gaze drifting from the cast to a panoramic view of the city, Serena processed the information. She’d hoped like crazy Jezz would be well enough to go to the launch—that way her stomach could stop churning like a cement mixer as she thought about tomorrow night.
Serena felt a pat on her shoulder. She looked away from the sunset to find Jezz’s warm expression.
‘If I possibly could, you know I’d go.’ Jezz gave the shoulder a rub, then sat back and growled. ‘If this leg weren’t so bloody stubborn and my medication didn’t put elephants to sleep—’
Serena surrendered to a grin. Jezz always made her smile, which was a big reason they worked so well together. There’d been late nights and tight schedules, biting nails and frantic phone calls. But, mainly, these past weeks had been fun. Jezz had let her know in lots of ways that she’d developed a soft spot. Jezz had become something more than a friend to Serena as well.
Unable to get comfortable, Jezz shifted in her chair, then realigned the cushion at her back. ‘I know you’ll be sensational tomorrow night. Just like you’ve been all along. You’ve done a fantastic job. David agrees. He thinks you’re pretty special.’
Chest growing tight, Serena averted her eyes again.
Of course she’d said nothing to Jezz about the scene at Mixem’s. Would she even be able to put into words how the experience had affected her?
Once she’d made up her mind to fulfil her one-night stand fantasy, her course had been set. Making love with her boss in a veritable cupboard at a respected inner-city address had to be the most reckless, impulsive things she’d ever done, by a mile. And she’d regretted not one moment of it.
Until they’d dressed and it had been time to leave. Then the doubt monsters had really come out to play.
She’d decided to stick to her plan: one time only, get David and her sexual frustrations out of her system, then concentrate on work, on continuing her journey to fulfil her destiny. But her hackles had shot up when she’d thought David would beat her to the punch in saying there wouldn’t be a next time. Then he’d turned things around and suggested more sex on the side. He’d mentioned mattresses and from that point on she hadn’t known if she wanted to forget it ever happened or beg him to take her again.
She still didn’t know.
Serena gazed out over the surrounding skyscrapers. Way above the rest stood the Centrepoint Tower’s golden turret. Its spire reached up to wispy clouds that brushed a tranquil blue sky rimmed in the west by yellow and rose.
Serena sighed.
What was David doing now?
Jezz’s chair grated on the tiles and Serena snapped back. Crutches in place, Jezz hopped through the doorway, which led to the apartment’s main room.
‘Come inside,’ she called. ‘There’s something we still need to organize for tomorrow night.’
Serena pushed to her feet. She’d thought she’d seen to everything. Though she’d never admit it, she’d been so busy all week her energy levels were dragging their feet. But this was by far the most important task she’d been given. If the promotional launch of the Hits programme was a success, she’d have proven herself beyond doubt to not only David but also herself. She’d have an excellent addition to her résumé when she headed overseas.
Her stomach clenched.
She held her gold heart and moved from the balcony into the apartment.
Anxiety. Still happened sometimes when she thought about leaving home. But her dream would happen. It had to, or sh
e’d feel as though she’d screwed up. Just as she’d screwed up so many times through school and fallen short in her dad’s eyes; he was always on to her about doing things his way.
But for now she needed to concentrate on proving herself here.
‘Hon?’ Jezz and her crutches stood at the far end of the room. ‘Can you come over here? I have a devil of a time lowering my behind onto this couch.’
When Jezz was comfortable, she patted the cushion beside her. ‘What’s that I always see you wearing around your neck?’
‘It’s a gift from my mother.’ Serena’s heart squeezed as it always did whenever she spoke about her. ‘She died a few years back. She said it was to remind me that I could reach the stars if I tried.’
Jezz looked from the heart into Serena’s eyes. ‘That’s about the loveliest thing I’ve ever heard. Whenever I told my mother I wanted to sing in Vegas, she’d brush the top of my head and tell me to go feed the chickens.’ She chuckled.
‘But you did sing in Vegas.’
Jezz’s eyes flashed. ‘And I dazzled ’em too. Just like you’re going to dazzle every single person there tomorrow night.’ She clapped her hands and rubbed them together. ‘So, you must have a stunning outfit lined up. Tell me about it.’
Serena froze. She’d been flat out, but why had she not thought of a dress until now? Her mind ran through her walk-in. Smart-casual, business, grunge, weekend…Her heart began to thump. ‘I must have something.’
Jezz thought for a moment, then dived on the side-table phone. ‘Never fear. Your fairy godmother is here.’
Fairy godmother. The title suited her, in a very contemporary kind of way. But, ‘Who are you calling?’
Jezz placed her call and waited. ‘All That boutique.’
‘The exclusive place in the lobby?’ Serena shook her head. ‘I can’t afford anything from there.’
Jezz simply smiled. ‘Hello. Jezz McQade from Room 2810. I need something in a size—’ she flung an appraising glance over Serena’s frame ‘—eight for a black-tie affair tomorrow evening. What have you got that will leave three hundred people gobsmacked?’
