Nothing!’
The moment she was gone Margaret looked over at a wide-eyed Jessie and grinned.
‘See what I mean? I think you’re a shoo-in.’
Jessie could not believe that fate had been so kind to her. ‘I sure hope so. I really want this job.’ She simply couldn’t go the rest of her life being a waitress.
The reception phone buzzed and Margaret picked it up. ‘Yes, Karen, I’ll send her down straight away. And don’t worry, he’ll like this one. Your turn,’ she said with an encouraging smile to Jessie as she hung up. ‘Down to the end of that corridor. Go straight in.’
Jessie gulped, then stood up. ‘Er—just one thing before I go. Do you happen to know Mr Marshall’s first name?’
‘Sure. It’s Kane. Why?’
Jessie could not believe how relieved she felt. For a moment there…
She shrugged. ‘I knew a guy named Marshall once and I was a bit worried this might be the same man. Thankfully, it isn’t,’ she muttered, and Margaret laughed.
‘We all have one of those somewhere in our past.’
True. But the trouble was this one wasn’t far enough in Jessie’s past. He was only a couple of nights ago, and could still make her tremble at the thought of him.
Her nerves eased a lot with the surety that the Mr Marshall about to interview her wasn’t Curtis Marshall, married man and sexily irresistible hunk. She also couldn’t deny she felt good that her competition had turned out so poorly. Clearly, Nicholas from Adstaff hadn’t given carrot-top the same conservative-dressing advice he’d given her. Or if he had, she’d ignored him.
The door at the end of the corridor led into the PA’s office. It wasn’t quite as colourful as Reception, but still very nice and spacious and modern. Karen herself was nothing like Jessie had expected Harry Wilde’s PA to be. She was forty-ish. A redhead. Pleasantly plump. And sweet.
‘Oh, thank you, God!’ she exclaimed on seeing Jessie. ‘Did you see the other one?’
‘Yes. Um. I did,’ Jessie admitted. ‘But to be honest, people like that are not unusual in the advertising world. She probably sees herself as an artiste with a certain avant-garde image to uphold.’
‘We don’t hire avant-garde artistes here,’ Karen said wryly. ‘We hire people with lots of innovative ideas who know how to work. And work hard. Now, did Margaret happen to mention that Mr Wilde’s away right now?’
‘Yes, she did.’
‘Good. Then you’ll understand why I’m doing part of your interview. Mr Marshall is an excellent manager and motivator, but he has no background in advertising. I’ve been with Mr Wilde a good few years and I know what he likes in an employee. I’ve already had a good look at your résumé, and I was impressed. Now that I can see you in person, I’m even more impressed. If you could just show me your portfolio, please?’
Jessie pulled out her portfolio and handed it over. She’d included samples of the best work she’d done over the years, plus mock-ups of ads she would like to do, if ever given the chance.
‘Mmm. This is excellent. Michele is going to be pleased with you. Michele will be your boss. She’s one of our top executives. Her assistant quit last week after they had an altercation over his lack of motivation. He’s been having a lot of time off. A drug problem, we think. Anyway, she needs a good graphic artist to step into his shoes straight away. She has several things that need to be finished before the Christmas break. On top of that, she’ll be going off on maternity leave in the middle of next year. She’s having another baby. When that happens, we’re hoping you’ll be able to fill in for her. I gather from Adstaff that you do have ambitions to become a creative designer yourself, is that right?’
‘It’s my dearest wish. The sample ads at the back of my portfolio are my own original ideas. They’re not actual campaigns I worked on.’
‘Really. I hadn’t quite got that far.’ She flipped over some more pages of the portfolio, stopping to stare hard at one of the pages. ‘Is this one of yours? This white-goods magazine ad,’ Karen said, holding up a page.
‘Yes, that’s one I made up myself.’
The page had a vibrant blue background to highlight the white goods. In the middle was a dishwasher, washing machine and dryer, surrounded by other smaller kitchen appliances, all in stainless steel. Draped across the three taller items was a very glamorous Mae-West style blonde, her evening gown white with a very low neckline, her scarlet-tipped fingers caressing the appliances. Above her were the words, ‘It’s not the appliances in your life but the life in your appliances,’ a parody of Mae West’s famous comment, ‘It’s not the men in your life but the life in your men.’
‘It’s brilliant!’ Karen exclaimed.
Jessie puffed up with pride. ‘Thank you.’
‘We have a new account for a kitchen-appliance company which this would be perfect for. I must show it to Peter. He’s handling that account. I can see Michele and Peter fighting over you. Of course, Mr Marshall will have to hire you first,’ she added with a grin. ‘But I’m sure that’s just a formality. Come on, let’s get you in there. Hopefully, he’s recovered from the last applicant by now. You should have seen his face when she walked in. My fault, of course. I was the one who picked her. Her résumé was impressive, but in reality she was not suitable at all.’
‘Do you mind if I ask why not? Looks can be deceiving. She might have been very talented.’
‘She was. A very talented graphic artist. But not suitable for promotion. Harry likes his front people to have a certain look, and style. After all, they have to deal with a wide range of clients, some of whom are very conservative. Harry believes first impressions are very important. Kane agrees with him. And you, Jessie Denton, make a very good first impression.’
‘But I’m only wearing jeans.’
‘Yes, but they’re clean and neat, and you wear them with panache. And I simply love what you’ve done with your hair. Very classy.’
Jessie could not have felt more confident as she was ushered into Harry Wilde’s office. Her self-esteem was sky-high, her heart beating with pleasurable anticipation, not nervous tension.
Fate had been good to her, for once.
But then the man seated behind Harry Wilde’s desk looked up, and Jessie’s heart literally stopped.
Oh, no, she groaned. How could this be? The receptionist had said his name was Kane, not Curtis!
But it was him. No doubt about it. She wasn’t about to forget what he looked like, especially when he was even dressed the same, in a suit, shirt and tie.
His ice-blue eyes locked onto hers, his dark brows lifting in surprise. Or was it shock?
‘Yes, I know what you mean,’ Karen said to him with a small laugh. ‘A definite improvement on Ms Jaegers. This is Jessie Denton. Here’s her portfolio.’ She walked forward and placed the folder on the wide walnut desk. ‘I’ve had a good look at it and it’s simply fabulous. Now, can I get either of you some coffee? Or tea?’
