just jealous because he gave me a free size upgrade.”
“I could so make a joke about that comment right now.”
“Please don’t,” Delilah said. “I already have the image in my head.”
Speaking of images.... She reached for the paper Chloe dropped on her desk. Sure enough, there was Simon Cartwright, a third of the way down the column, a beaming blonde draped on his arm.
“Finland Smythe again,” Chloe read over her shoulder. “She’s lasted a while.”
“Two months.” Longer than most. Their boss tended to collect girlfriends the way Delilah’s grandmother used to collect souvenir spoons. Fashion models, actresses, would-be fashion models and actresses, a literal parade of beauty, every one of them wearing the same thrilled expression.
Who could blame them? Delilah stared at the black-and-white image. What she wouldn’t give to be a woman exceptional enough to capture Simon Cartwright’s attention.
Like that was possible. Simon was... She nearly sighed out loud. What wasn’t he? The man was handsome, intelligent, sophisticated. You could literally feel the energy change in the room as soon as he walked in.
Her laptop had a better chance of attracting his attention.
“Ooh, look, here’s an ad for that bridal expo I was telling you guys about.” Larissa pointed to a bold-bordered box next to the society column. “You’re both still coming with me, right?”
Both Delilah and Chloe groaned. Since getting engaged to her stockbroker boyfriend, Larissa had been in nonstop bridal mode. “Do we have to?” Chloe asked.
“Yes you do. You’re my bridesmaids. Besides, it’ll be fun. We can look at bridesmaid dresses.”
“What happened to the ones you were looking at online this morning?” Chloe asked.
“Not on company time, I hope.”
All three women jumped. Delilah quickly turned the paper over. Simon Cartwright leaned against her cubicle opening, arms folded across his broad chest. Like it did every morning, Delilah’s pulse skipped a beat at the sight.
Dear Lord, but he took her breath away. It wasn’t that he was traditionally handsome. In fact, on a different man, the prominent nose and sensual lips might not work at all. On Simon though.... The strong features fit as perfectly as his custom-tailored suits. Today’s number was dove-gray, with a jacket cut narrow to emphasize his long, lean build. A swimmer in college, he still swam laps mornings before work. In fact, the damp curls at the base of his neck said he had just come from the pool.
“Good morning, ladies. I didn’t realize there was an intradepartmental meeting this morning. I would have brought pastries.”
“Prework coffee klatch,” Delilah replied.
“Ahhh. Interesting. The things I miss not arriving earlier. Makes me wonder what other fun activities go on when I’m not here. Speaking of...” He turned to Larissa. “How are the wedding plans going, Ms. Boyd?”
“Very well, thank you,” her friend replied.
“Company server isn’t bogging down your internet searches?”
“I, um...no?” Her friend’s cheeks turned crimson. Ducking her head, she missed the momentary sparkle behind Simon’s sapphire eyes. Delilah caught it however; her stomach did another flip.
“Glad to hear it.” He turned his attention to Delilah. “When you’re done with your coffee klatch, I need you in my office.”
Need you. Okay, so he meant regarding business. When said in that rich baritone though, the words still managed to make her insides flutter. Pathetic? Yes. But so was being in love with your boss. If either Chloe or Larissa found out her little secret, she’d never live it down.
Fortunately, she was very good at keeping her feelings hidden. Tucking an imaginary brown strand behind her ear, she gave a quick nod. “Sure thing. Be right there.”
“Someone’s in a good mood,” Chloe noted. “I’m guessing last night went well.”
“Maybe.” As a rule, she preferred not to dwell on Simon’s romantic exploits. Bad enough the gossip columns insisted on rubbing the pictorial evidence in her face. Sitting around speculating only made her feel dumpy and depressed.
She grabbed a nearby legal pad. “Either way, I better get to work. We can gossip at lunch.” Although hopefully by then, a new topic would demand their attention.
CMT Worldwide occupied two floors of their Madison Avenue address. The first floor housed accounting and media. Creative and client services, Delilah’s division, took up most of the second. As head of the New York branch, and director of accounts, Simon’s office sat at the rear of the layout with a sprawling view of the skyline.
Simon stood at the far window bank, facing Madison Avenue. Tall and broad shouldered, with his hands clasped behind his back, he reminded Delilah of a prince surveying his kingdom. Suddenly self-conscious, she smoothed down the front of her blouse. She’d been trying to wear brighter colors these days, in an effort to look more vibrant. Today’s choice was a raspberry satin with pleats and cap sleeves that looked far more stylish on the mannequin. Then, everything seemed more stylish when she wasn’t standing near Simon. No matter what she wore, she felt impossibly drab and average in his orbit. Still, she smoothed the material anyway, and then brushed the bangs from her eyes for good measure before knocking loudly. Simon hated being approached without notice.
“You wanted to see me?”
He turned around. “Jim Bartlett has narrowed his choice to two agencies. Ours and Mediatopia.”
“Fantastic.” Doubly so, given how much work had gone into pitching them the past month. Ever since the brewer announced he was looking for a new advertising agency, Simon—and by extension Delilah and everyone else in the agency—had been working like crazy to convince Bartlett Ale that CMT was the perfect choice to sell their beverages. If Jim Bartlett was down to the final two, that meant the agency’s hard work had paid off. “When do they make their final decision?”
“End of next week.”
Sooner than they originally thought. So why wasn’t he smiling the way he normally did when the agency got good news? In fact, the good mood Larissa mentioned appeared to have faded altogether. “Is there a problem?” she asked. “You don’t sound very excited.”
“Sorry. Bit of a headache. Last night was...” Thankfully, he waved off the rest of the explanation and pulled out his chair. “As for Bartlett, don’t start dancing a victory dance quite yet. We have one more hurdle.”
“What kind of hurdle?” She sank into the chair across from him. If she had to create another PowerPoint presentation, she was going to scream.
“Apparently, Jim wants to spend some time getting to know each of the candidates on a more personal basis before making his final decision. The agency he likes best wins.”
Was that all? “Doesn’t sound like much of a hurdle to me.” More like a cake walk.
“Careful.
