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?’
‘No, thanks,’ Jessie croaked out.
‘Not at the moment, Karen,’ her boss said.
‘OK, I’ll leave you to it.’
‘Relax,’ she mouthed to a shell-shocked Jessie as she walked past her.
And then she was gone, shutting the door behind her.
Jessie just stood there in the middle of the large, plushly furnished office, her shock slowly draining away, anxiety rushing back. Anxiety and dismay.
Fate hadn’t been kind to her at all. It had dangled the most wonderful opportunity in front of her nose like a carrot, only to snatch it away at the last moment. Because this Mr Marshall—regardless of what his first name turned out to be—wasn’t about to hire her, no matter what she did, or said.
There was no way out.
If she told him the truth about why she’d been at that bar last Friday night, he would feel both humiliated and threatened. If she didn’t tell him the truth, then she had to fall back on that other even more sordid reality. That she’d fancied him like mad and been tempted by him, despite knowing he was married.
No, that wasn’t right, she suddenly realised. If she kept her decoy work a secret, then she would not have known he was married. He didn’t wear a wedding ring. She’d noticed that the other night.
In that case, how could she explain her sudden disappearing act?
Saying simply that she’d changed her mind seemed rather lame. She would come across as a tease. She supposed she could say someone in the ladies’ room had warned her he was a married man and that was why she’d done a flit.
That might salvage her pride and reputation, but it wouldn’t do much for his.
The main problem here was that he’d known he was a married man all along, and he’d still asked her to go to a hotel room with him.
Recalling that highly charged moment brought back to Jessie the feelings she had shared with him that night. The mutual attraction. The rush of desire. The heat.
She stared at him as a new wave of heat flowed through her body, flooding her from her toes right up into her face.
There was no way out of this, except out the door.
‘I guess I might as well leave right now,’ she choked out. ‘Just give me my portfolio back, please, and I’ll get going.’
