prefers to be called my assistant.”
“Whatever. I don’t want to talk about the woman you’ve got taking your calls. We need to discuss the lion woman.”
“Lion?” Nick asked, genuinely confused.
“Yes. The gal who runs the web thing.”
“Oh. You mean Jessie. Her agency is called Roar.”
His father snorted. “And if that’s not a ridiculous name for an agency I don’t know what is. You got any Scotch in here?”
“No. I’m not in the habit of drinking in the office.”
“More’s the pity,” his father said, before settling in one of the ancient burgundy leather armchairs Nick had inherited when he took over this office. “Your generation has taken all the fun out of advertising. I remember when—”
“Dad. I don’t have time for a trip down Memory Lane right now. I’m trying to figure out how to save our agency.”
“Yes. That’s what I wanted to discuss with you. First of all, you need to eliminate Roar from the picture.”
“Obviously that would be ideal, but we don’t have the resources to do what she does. If you had invested in digital when I told you to we wouldn’t be in this situation,” Nick said, trying not to let his temper get the best of him.
His father waved his hand. “Let’s not start that again. I brought you back because you said you wanted to fix things—not rehash the past.”
Nick motioned toward the piles of spreadsheets and glossy ads in front of him. “That’s what I’m trying to do.”
“You’re not going to find the answer in paperwork. You should be buttering Phyllis up—getting her to fall for the good ol’ Thornton charm. I know you’ve got it in you.”
Nick couldn’t stop the roll of his eyes. “Phyllis is smarter than that. Besides, she’s been happily married for a million years.”
“True. But she’s still a woman.” His father folded his hands behind his head and looked up at the ceiling, as if a slideshow was playing there. “There’s not a woman in the world who doesn’t want to feel wanted by a handsome man. Why, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve closed a deal because of—”
“Dad!” Nick shouted.
He sat up straight again. “What?”
It took everything he had not to grab a roll of duct tape and shut his father’s mouth for him. “I don’t want to hear about your glory days. I want to talk about how we can set this agency up to start winning again—and shut down the buyout bid.”
His father slumped back in his chair and sighed. “All right. Fine. Shoot.”
Nick took a deep breath. He had to remain calm if he wanted his father to listen to him. “We need to go digital. Now. I need you to give me free rein to set up an online advertising division. I’ll invest in the latest equipment. Steal all the best people from the already established agencies. And then I’ll have them create spec work for all our current clients. Before you know it we’ll have a giant new revenue stream without having to go through a single pitch.”
“And how does that help us with our current problem?”
“It ensures that we never lose another piece of business to an upstart like Roar.”
His father nodded. “All right. I’ll think about it. In the meantime I want you to get the Goddess launch back in our court.”
“I plan to—but I’ll need to prove to them we can handle their digital needs first.”
His father slammed a fist into the arm of his chair. “You don’t have to prove anything. Just give ‘em a little theater. Come up with a great campaign idea, put together a slick presentation, and bam! Roar is history.”
“It’s not going to be that easy to beat Roar. Phyllis loves Jessie.”
“You think so?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.
“I know so. Phyllis has commanded us to appear at the charity ball together. She wants us to present a united front to make the higher-ups feel better.”
“And you agreed?”
Nick sighed. “At this point I’m willing to do just about anything to keep Phyllis happy.”
His father nodded as he got up to leave. “Just make sure you keep it about business. It wouldn’t do to get involved with this harpy.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
That was a lie. He’d been dreaming about what she’d look like with her clothes off quite a bit.
For now that was off the table. But after he’d beaten Roar he had every intention of getting her naked.
Jessie looked at herself in the dressing room mirror, smoothing her hands over the emerald-green silk of the form-fitting evening gown she was wearing.
“I don’t know, Gloria. It’s a little too …”
“Too what? Elegant? Classy? Gorgeous?” snorted the long-legged brunette from her seat on the floor.
“I was going to say too much. It isn’t me.”
“Oh, Jessie. You’re going to a black tie gala. That sequined bandage you usually pass off as formal attire isn’t going to work this time.”
“Maybe we should keep looking.”
“No. No, we shouldn’t. You’ve already tried on every other dress in your size in the store,” Gloria said, pointing at the towering stack of evening gowns that was draped over the dressing room’s upholstered chair.
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
Jessie sighed as she twisted her hair up into a loose bun and stared at her reflection. She knew her sister was right, but she felt like a little girl playing dress-up in her mother’s clothes. The elegant, polished woman staring back at her from the mirror was a stranger to her.
“Maybe I shouldn’t go at all. I could just call Phyllis and tell her something came up.”
“What’s going on, Jessie?” her sister asked, crossing the small room to stand in front of her. “This isn’t like you. Are you scared?”
“No, not scared. Just intimidated.”
“Why? Your agency—the agency we started less than two years ago—has been chosen to launch a huge make-up line. You’ve been asked to attend one of the year’s most prestigious charity balls as the guest of that same make-up line. And you’ll be sitting right next to someone from New York’s biggest and oldest ad agency—the agency that you showed up and outdid. This is your moment to shine!”
“But
