froze. “I...uh...thought we should set up shop someplace public. With more space, I mean. Like, you know, the conference room.”
“Why? Are you afraid to be alone with me?” Mark asked, half hoping that she was. He’d love to know he had that kind of power over her.
“What? No. Of course not. I just thought we might need the whiteboards or something,” she said, pointedly not looking at him.
“I’ve got plenty of whiteboards in my office,” he said. “I don’t know about you, but I like a little privacy when I’m working hard. And everybody can see into the conference room.”
She picked at her fingernails. “I don’t know...”
He couldn’t resist the urge to tease her.
“I promise to be on my best behavior. I won’t show you my underwear even if you ask me to.”
Becky laughed at his reference to the first time they’d met.
“Okay. Deal. I won’t show you mine if you don’t show me yours,” she said. “But you’ll have to help me move my stuff.”
* * *
By the time they’d finished moving her desk, laptop dock and giant monitors, dark had fallen and the lights from the skyscrapers that surrounded them twinkled like stars.
Becky gazed out of the window and sighed.
“I could get used to a view like this,” she said.
Mark came to stand beside her. “It is pretty sweet. Definitely beats the view I had at my last office.”
“Oh? Where was that?”
“Los Angeles,” he said.
“Oh. Yeah... I can see how you’d get tired of looking at palm trees and bikini-clad babes,” Becky teased.
“I was a contract worker. Which meant I was one small step away from sitting in the basement with a red stapler. The only thing I had to look at was fuzzy cubicle walls.”
“Ah. At least I’ll always have Ryan Gosling to keep me company,” she said, motioning to the poster she’d tacked to the wall by her desk.
“If you get tired of looking at him I’m happy to pose for pictures,” Mark said.
Becky stepped back. “Now you want to be my eye candy, huh?”
“Nope. I just want you to want me to take my shirt off.”
If he only knew... But she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t even kiss him—at least not again. That morning in his office had been an aberration.
“Dream on, buddy. I don’t sleep with the competition.”
“I know, I know,” he said. “But you can’t blame a guy for trying. You know, if you slept with me I might not try so hard to win.”
“Yeah, right. I’m pretty sure you don’t give up that easily,” she said, giving him a sideways smile.
Then she turned away. It was either that or give in to the temptation to rub her hands over the hard planes of his chest.
“I’m going to check my email and then head out for the night,” she said. “You?”
“I think I’m just going to head out,” he answered. “I need to hit the hay so I’m ready to rock tomorrow. See ya in the morning.”
Becky waved vaguely in his direction as he left and fired up her laptop. She didn’t really need to check her email—that was what smartphones were for. But she did need some time to get used to her new surroundings and wrap her head around the situation.
Truth really was stranger than fiction. If she’d set out to write a book she’d never have come up with anything as screwy as this. It was almost reality-show-worthy.
She could see it now: Flung: Where One-Night Flings Compete.
Giggling, she peeked at her inbox. She was surprised to see it was flooded with messages of support from the whole creative team. The guy in charge of the agency might be a sleaze, but he sure did hire good people.
She was just about to close it up when she saw a name that froze her heart.
Pence.
What did he want?
She considered deleting the email without reading the message, but knew that was the coward’s way out. Taking a deep breath, she clicked on his name, willing herself to stay calm.
Hey Babe
Saw you at AdWorld, but I knew you wouldn’t want to talk to me so I didn’t say hello. Couldn’t stop thinking about you, though. You look good. Done good, too. I’d like to say I’m surprised, but you learned from the best—me.
Did you know my agency is pitching to Eden, too? I’d say may the best man win, but we both know who that is—me.
I’m sorry I’m going to have to crush you. But, hey, there’ll always be a job waiting for you here! Oh, and Chelsea hit the road, so there’s a room for you, too.
Pence
Becky read it twice, unable to believe what she was seeing. Unfortunately the message only got more infuriating the second time around.
Could the man be any more repulsive? Was he really inviting her to take his wife’s...er...his ex-wife’s place over email?
Unable to contain her rage, Becky screamed. Her shriek echoed in the mostly empty office, carrying her pain right back to her ears.
She slammed her laptop shut and got up to pace.
There was no reason this should affect her so much. She’d outgrown him. Outstripped him. She was twice as good as that scum-sucker had ever been on his best day.
Seeking confirmation, she grabbed one of her awards off her desk, stroking the golden statue. She was good. Damn good. And nothing that man could say would convince her otherwise.
But still she heard the echoes in her brain. “No-good hack,” they spat. “Bed-hopping social climber,” they hissed. “As terrible on paper as you are in bed,” they screamed.
Unable to help herself, Becky chucked the award across the room. It landed with a dull thud, the thick red carpet seeming to reach up to protect it from damage.
Becky caught the sob before it could escape from her throat. It was time to go home.
* * *
Becky turned the key in the faded red door that marked the entrance to her third-floor walk-up and trudged up the stairs.
This morning she had felt so confident. So alive. She’d been sure that the world was hers to conquer.
Now? Now all she wanted was a giant glass
