for a second...
Next thing she knew a big hand was shaking her awake. She bolted upright, trying to get her bearings.
“I’m on it, Pence. Don’t worry. I just...” she blurted, her mind still in dreamland.
“Hey, it’s all right. There’s no Pence here. It looks like you just drifted off for a second,” a familiar voice said.
Becky blinked. Sure enough, Mark was standing there, smiling gently at her. And in his hand was the cup of coffee she’d been waiting for.
“Here. It’s still hot,” he said, handing it to her.
She took it silently, waiting for him to comment on what he’d heard her say. He didn’t disappoint her.
“Who’s Pence?”
She looked at him, expecting to see ridicule in his eyes. But there was only compassion.
“He’s the reason I don’t do workplace relationships. Or relationships at all, for that matter.”
“Ah. Why?”
Without knowing why, Becky found herself wanting to confide in him.
“He was creative director at the agency where I interned during grad school. He was my mentor, and then he became...more. Much more.”
That was the understatement of the year. But Mark didn’t need to know how bad things had gotten—or how far she’d run to get away from him.
She shrugged her shoulders. “The whole thing left a bad taste in my mouth. So I decided to focus on my career instead. And now here we are. Competing for the promotion that should be mine.”
Mark smiled ruefully and lifted his coffee mug. “Indeed we are. Although I have to admit I’d rather be competing to see how fast we can make each other come.”
Becky raised an eyebrow. “You don’t want this job?”
“Of course I do,” he said with a heated smile. “And I’m going to get it. But I’d also like to hear you screaming my name again. Creating killer ads makes me hot.”
Becky couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up. “Well, that’s nice to know. But I’m afraid I can’t help you. I’ve got an equally hot campaign to finish.”
Mark slowly got out of his chair and walked over to where she stood. “Okay, but just so you know, I’ll be thinking about you,” he said, dropping a kiss on her neck.
Her blood sizzled at his touch, and she found herself hoping he’d keep going.
Instead he turned and walked away. “Sweet dreams,” he called.
Grabbing her still-warm coffee cup from the counter, Becky started the trek back to her office. Sleep would have to wait. She had a campaign to perfect—and a devil of a man to vanquish.
* * *
Mark took a deep breath, straightened his black sport coat, and walked into the crowded conference room. He had timed his entrance carefully, so that he was almost late but not quite. He needed every tool in his arsenal to keep Becky off balance.
“Nice of you to show up!” David boomed.
“I was just putting the finishing touches on our concept,” Mark answered. “Nothing less than perfection will do, after all.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” David said. “Now, since you’re so sure of yourself, how about you go first?”
Mark took a deep breath, then snuck a look at Becky. She was sitting quietly at one end of the giant conference table, her emerald-green dress the only bright spot in the overly industrial room.
She looked at him mockingly. “Yes, Mark, why don’t you go first? We’re dying to hear what you’ve come up with.”
Mark looked at her, then looked at David.
David nodded encouragingly.
He took a deep breath as he strode to the head of the table. This is it, he told himself. Time to knock their socks off.
“I’ve spent a fair bit of time around women,” he said. “I like to think I know what makes them tick. In fact,” he said, turning to write on the whiteboard behind him, “the way I see it, women want three things... First, they want to look good. Which, for most women, means being skinny. Second, they want other women to be jealous of them. And third,” he said, writing the number three with a flourish, “they want a man. Not only that, they want a man of their choosing. And they want him to drool over them. Which, if we’re honest, brings us back to number one. But there are plenty of yogurts promising to make women skinny. To stand out, we need to say something different.”
He turned the first board over, so the whole room could see a woman in a cocktail dress being admired by a host of attractive men. Once he was sure they’d seen it, he read them the headline.
“‘Eden. The yogurt for the woman who knows what she wants.’ That’s our tagline. We’ll use it in connection with women in all kinds of situations. At the beach,” he said, flipping over boards sequentially, “in the dressing room, hailing a cab. In every scene men will be staring, openmouthed, at the female.”
When he’d finished a momentary silence filled the room. He glanced from one face to another but couldn’t read what anyone was thinking. This crew would be awesome at poker.
Finally he looked at Becky and cocked an eyebrow at her. The concept had come a long way since the last time she’d seen it.
She cleared her throat.
“So your message is pretty much: ‘Eat this, be skinny, get men to lust over you’?” she asked.
He shrugged his shoulders. “In a nutshell. It’s taking the bikini-clad woman in a beer commercial and turning it on its head. Men get to be the hangers-on.”
“Huh... But what about women who aren’t interested in men?”
Mark turned to look at her, expecting to see spite in her eyes. But instead he saw genuine interest. “That’s a good point,” he said. “But I think this idea has legs. It could cover different topics.”
She walked around the room, grabbed the marker out of his hand and began to write down ideas. “Like instead of men it could be openmouthed business associates admiring her. Or cyclists left in her dust.”
“Oh, I see where you’re going,” he said. “That could be cool.”
She grinned at him, and for the first time since they’d returned to New York he got a glimpse of the happy, gorgeous girl he’d shared a night with in Vegas.
He grinned back. “So, what if—?”
David cleared his throat.
“I like where this is going—but, Becky, didn’t you have a concept to present, as well? This is a competition,” he said.
Becky
