tans. She was more like a museum display. Refined, elegant and partitioned off with thick velvet rope. She had Do Not Touch signs all over her, and yet, like a museum display, that made her all the more tempting.
She tilted her head and put one perfectly manicured hand on her shapely hip. Her skirt-and-jacket combo was expertly tailored to skim her curves, revealing her figure, but not in an obvious way. Her dark brown hair was twisted into a neat bun and her pale, flawless skin, rare in the sun-obsessed state of California, had just the right amount of makeup to look a bit more perfect than nature allowed.
“What are your terms?” she asked.
“My terms?”
“What do you expect from me so that I may be worthy of the somewhat exorbitant sum you’re offering me?”
She had attitude, but that was a good thing. She would be dealing with the media on his behalf, and in order to do that, she was going to need a backbone of steel. She seemed eager to prove that it was firmly in place.
“If you really think the sum is exorbitant I could always offer you less.”
“I could never turn down your generosity, it would be rude.”
He chuckled. “Well, in the interest of good manners, by all means, accept it. As for the rest, I expect you to be on call twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. I have projects happening all over the world in several different time zones, that means it’s always business hours. That means if something happens and I need my PR specialist, you have to be available. I can’t afford for you be off on a hot date.”
“Your chauvinistic nature is showing again, but I assure you that nothing takes priority over my job. Not even hot dates.” She quirked a dark eyebrow, her brown eyes glittering. She liked this, challenging him, he could tell. And he took it as a good sign. His last public relations specialist had cracked under the pressure in less than a year. It was a hard business, even harder in his industry and with his level of visibility in the media. The fact that Lily seemed to enjoy a little bit of friction was a good sign.
“In that case why don’t you get down to the business of signing your life away to me?” he said.
A faint smile curved her berry-painted lips and she turned to face her desk, grabbed a pen out of the holder and bent over slightly so that she could sign the contract. It was a pose she had to know was provocative. Her fitted pencil skirt cupped the round curve of her butt so snugly he couldn’t help but admire the flawless shape. And she had to know that. Women always knew. No wonder Jeff Campbell had assumed she’d been making a play for him. Deluded idiot. Lily wasn’t making an offer, she was out to intimidate. And on most men, he could see how it might work. But not on him.
She straightened and turned, her jaw set, her expression one of satisfied determination. She extended her hand and he took it. She shook it firmly, her dark eyes shining with triumph.
“I look forward to doing business with you, Mr. Forrester.”
He laughed. “You say that now, Ms. Ford, but you haven’t started the job yet.”
CHAPTER TWO
THE fact that the very first thing she felt when Gage’s deep, masculine voice pulled her out of the deep sleep she’d been in was a shiver of excitement, and not a pang of annoyance, was disturbing on a lot of levels, all of which she was too tired to analyze in that moment.
“It’s one in the morning, Gage.” Lily blinked against the blinding light radiating from the screen of her smart-phone. After four months in his employ, she should know better than to be surprised by a midnight phone call.
“It’s nine a.m. in England.”
“And we have a crisis on our hands?” She rolled over and brushed her hair out of her face, the cool sheets from the side of the bed that had been unoccupied chilling her slightly.
“The sky isn’t falling, if that’s what you mean, but we have protesters lining the streets at our newest building site and I need a press release that will help cool things down.”
“Now?”
“Preferably before the mob tears down the foundation of our new hotel,” he bit out.
Lily sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, pushing the button for speakerphone and bringing up the specs of the project up on the screen. “What’s the issue?”
“Environmental impact.”
She studied the report. “It’s a green build. Recycled materials are being used for as much of the hotel as possible, anything that isn’t is being purchased locally and it’s helping to stimulate local economy.”
“Good. Put all of that in a press release and get it sent.”
“Just a second. I was in bed. Asleep. Like a normal person,” she said, sleep depravation making her grumpy.
She stood and made her way to her desk, which she had moved a mere foot away from her bed just for such occasions. Her laptop was still fired up, so she sat down, dashed off all of the necessary info and emailed it to Gage. “How’s that?”
“Good,” he responded a few moments later. “What do you suggest? Written or verbal?”
“Both. Call down there and see if you can speak to someone on the phone. I’ll contact the local news station. Then we’ll work on getting it into online editions of the papers today and print for tomorrow. That ought to defuse things, as much as possible anyway. They still might not be happy about the build in general, but if you show that you’re conscientious it should go a long way in smoothing things over, at least with the general public, which is really the best you can hope for.”
“You really are good,” he said, that voice sending a little frisson of … something … through her again. She’d thought she would get used to him in the months since he’d walked into her office and hired her. In a lot of ways she had, but he still had the ability to throw her off balance if she wasn’t prepared for him.
“I’m the best, Gage,” she said sharply, “don’t forget it.”
“How can I? You never let me.”
“I hope you mean in deed rather than word,” she said archly.
“Take your pick.”
“All right. I’m going to call some televisions stations and then I’m going back to bed.”
“Fine, but I need you in the office by five.”
She bit back a groan. “Of course.” It was likely he was already at the office. Between work and dalliances with supermodels she wasn’t sure if Gage Forrester ever slept.
She hung up the phone and proceeded to make her phone calls before falling back into bed. She could get two good hours before she had to be in the office.
And why did Gage’s voice seem to be echoing in her mind while she tried to drift off?
She walked into Gage’s office at 4:59 a.m. with two industrial-sized cups of coffee. “Thought you might need a hit,” she said, setting the cup down
