“Robert Marston?” she repeated impatiently.
Robert Marston had just started working for the company. He wore Armani just as well as Griff did, but he came with sharp, very dark eyes and, in Jillian’s opinion, a sharper—possibly darker—mind. He was handsome, intelligent, deep-voiced and very articulate. He had gone to school with Theo, and spent the past five years with one of the fastest-growing computer companies in the world. He was the type of man who walked into a room and drew attention. By his physical nature he seemed to exude authority.
She had felt wary of him from the moment she had first seen him—and that had actually been from quite a distance. She didn’t even know the color of those dark eyes of his. There had been far too many rumors flying about for her to willingly meet the man her grandfather had brought into the business.
Was he stepping on her cousins’ toes? Or were her cousins in agreement with the situation, content for Marston to be the one with the power? Somehow, she doubted it.
“Why on earth would you assume I’m going out with him?” she asked too sharply. She had wanted to convey courteous impatience. She was afraid that her tone had given away concern.
His grin told her that he had, indeed, heard far more than impatience in her voice. “Well, are you going out with him?”
“No, I haven’t even met him yet. I saw him across a room. And I don’t believe in going out with business associates.”
“So?”
“I’m going out with Connie.”
“With Connie?” he repeated. Was that relief she heard in his voice? Connie had been one of her best friends forever, way back to grade school. Connie was also her administrative assistant. And since it was such a family enterprise, Connie’s husband, Joe, also worked for the company. He was on Daniel’s staff.
“Yes, Connie and I are going out. As we do every Halloween,” she reminded him.
He dropped his teasing manner for a moment and looked at her seriously. “You’re really going to go—”
“Christmas shopping, yes.”
“As everyone does on Halloween,” he responded with a fine line of sarcasm.
“It’s a personal tradition,” she said with feigned indignation. It was a strange tradition, she knew, and it had started when they were little kids who went trick-or-treating together. Now Connie had two daughters, a dog, a cat, a bird and in-laws coming out the kazoo, so she traditionally started her Christmas shopping on October thirty-first, convinced that the best Christmas sales came on Halloween, when everyone was doing last-minute scrambling for a costume. They had a great time shopping, then going trick-or-treating with the girls, and then, usually, just spending the evening together checking out the acquired candy.
“All right,” Griff said. “Just so long as you’re really going out.”
“I really am.”
“Not to baby-sit or hand out candy.”
“No.” Her voice was steady. She wasn’t baby-sitting, and she wasn’t handing out candy.
“And you’re really going to have a good time.”
“Really.”
“Because if you came with me, I’d show you a good time, you know.”
“I’m sure you would.”
He slid off her desk at last, brushing her cheek with his fingertips. “I’d show you off to all my friends. You are gorgeous, you know.”
She caught his hand and squeezed it. “Thanks, Griff.”
“Oh, by the way, Daniel asked to see you. His office.”
“When?”
Griff looked at his watch. “Hmm…a while ago, I guess.”
“Griff, why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m sure it’s nothing.” He placed his hands on her desk and leaned toward her again. “Why don’t you defy him? Just go home!”
“Because it might be important,” she said impatiently. She stood and walked past him.
“Hey, Jillian?”
She turned back.
“Happy Halloween. And merry Christmas shopping.”
Eileen Llewellyn paced in front of the storyboards set up in her office, looking at the newest sketches for the catalog campaign. Of medium height, with coal-dark hair that was expertly styled to flatter her heart-shaped face, she was elegant, efficient and a picture of total sophistication. She liked business suits with tailored jackets, short skirts and high heels. She walked with an aura of confidence and authority. One look from her cool blue eyes could silence a room. She had been born to soar in the business world.
But at the moment she was agitated. She groped for the pack of cigarettes on her desk, slipped one out without looking and lit it, grateful in the back of her mind that the company owned the building and she could smoke in her own office whenever she damn well pleased. Exhaling a cloud of smoke eased her aggravation slightly, but still, she continued to stare at one storyboard, in particular. It showed a woman in an off-the-shoulder, long-sleeved, dramatic gown with a flowing skirt; it somehow had the look of something from another time, another world. The woman was draped across an iron chair near a fireplace, and a man was bending down before her, his fingers brushing the bare flesh of her throat while he set a locket around her neck. It was a wonderful sketch. Striking. Seldom could one piece of art speak so clearly, especially in the commercial world. The artist was to be highly commended. It conveyed everything it should. The timelessness of a gift of fine jewelry. The pure romance of such a gift. The class, refinement…more. It was wonderful. What she could do with this one sketch alone…
But, damn, it was irritating.
There was a tapping on her door.
“I’m busy,” she called out sharply.
The door opened, anyway.
Theo walked in. He was a tall man, imposing in stature. Though barely thirty, he had already acquired a few gray strands in his dark hair. They gave an impression of wisdom and authority. He knew how to use his physical presence well, but he didn’t intimidate her. She glanced at him over her shoulder, irritation evident in her eyes.
“Theo, I said—”
“Yeah, I can see you’re busy, puffing away.”
“What do you want?”
“It’s great, isn’t it? I want to use it for more than just the catalog. I want to pull some of the ads we’ve already got for December and rush this in, instead.”
She flashed him a frown. “Theo, it’s way too late to go changing the Christmas ads! December magazines are already on their way out.”
“I
