her face, let her go for it.” Dash dusted his palms together in a dismissive gesture.
Marissa met Judd’s gaze. “Am I officially managing the Baxter and Jackson account?”
“You did a splendid job of negotiating, Marissa. I’m proud of you,” her boss said.
She soaked up his praise. She was a sponge expanding to full size. Her chest tightened and her heart floated. But Judd wasn’t finished.
“However, Dash is right. Getting Thibbedeaux on board isn’t going to be easy.” He furrowed his forehead. “The man’s a complete eccentric.”
“You don’t think I can handle him?”
“It’s not you I’m concerned about.”
“I’m not without my charms, Judd.” She batted her eyelashes.
“Your sex appeal isn’t in question here, it’s Thibbedeaux. He’s a wild card. Are you certain you really want to tackle this obligation? It’s better to back out now than not deliver in the end. Don’t make a promise you can’t keep.”
“If I don’t commit to this, we’ll lose Baxter and Jackson as clients.”
“Quite possibly.”
“And if I do commit, I greatly improve our bottom line.”
“I take it that means you’re going out on the limb,” Judd said.
Marissa nodded. Challenge was her middle name. The dangling carrot was too juicy to ignore. That and the thought of rubbing the smile off Dash’s smug mug.
“I’ll guarantee you Thibbedeaux if you guarantee me the account-director position.”
“Done,” Judd said.
Yes! Mentally, Marissa did a victory dance. She knew just how to celebrate snatching this deal from Dash’s teeth.
For the last few weeks an adorable pair of six-hundred-dollar silver-and-azure Jimmy Choo sling backs had been calling her name. With her promotion practically in the bag, she could afford the splurge. After work this evening she was heading straight for Bergdorf Goodman.
Dash waylaid her in the corridor after the meeting. He took her by the elbow and tugged her aside. “Care to make it interesting,” he asked.
Marissa eyed him suspiciously. “What do you have in mind?”
“A wager.”
“What kind of wager?”
Dash raked a speculative gaze over her body.
“Forget it, you sleaze.” She yanked her elbow from his grasp.
“You misunderstand me. Much as I would enjoy the comfort of your hot bod, that’s not what I’m proposing.”
“No? Then what?”
“Five Benjamins says you can’t bring Thibbedeaux in.”
Marissa stared at her competitor. The idea that he was willing to bet against her to the tune of five hundred dollars had doubt creeping around inside her.
“I’m betting you have to sleep with him to get what you want.”
“You are such a jerk-off, you know that? I don’t have to lower myself to your level. I can convince Beau Thibbedeaux to take the job without any added sexual enticements.
“A thousand bucks says you can’t.” He extended a hand.
Phooey. She shook off her reservation. She’d proved once and for all she was a better negotiator than Dash.
“It’s a deal,” she said and slapped her palm into his.
2
“WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME you got laid?” Remy Thibbedeaux asked his older half brother and silent business partner, Beau.
Remy was polishing the bar with a dish towel and putting out fresh peanuts in anticipation of happy hour. The front door stood open and a light tourist crowd prowled the street. Several weeks from now the entire French Quarter would be wall-to-wall people in town for Mardi Gras.
But this afternoon the small Bourbon Street bar and grill was empty save for the two brothers and Leroy Champlain, a blind jazz musician who napped at the back table, soaking up the sunshine slanting in through the spotless window. His fastidious brother kept the place cleaner than an operating room, which was quite a feat considering their centuries-old location.
Beau sat cocked back on the two rear legs of a cane-bottomed café chair, tugged the brim of his New York Yankees baseball cap down lower over his forehead and took a lazy swig from his beer. “Can’t see how that’s any of your business.”
“I was thinking a pretty female might snap you out of your doldrums.”
“Well, you can stop thinking.”
“You worry me, Beau. Mopin’ around with nothing to do.”
“I’m not in the doldrums,” he denied. “And I’m certainly not moping.”
“So what would you call it?”
“Evaluating my options.”
“Bull. You’ve got nothing to occupy your mind. What with me running the bar and Jenny taking over the B and B you’ve simply got too much time on your hands.”
“Serious evaluating takes time.”
“I hope it’s your future you’re seriously evaluating. It’s been over eighteen months since you split the sheets with Angeline.”
“I didn’t break up with Angeline. She broke up with me.”
“’Cause you wouldn’t ask her to marry you.”
“A man doesn’t like to be rushed.”
Remy snorted. “You two went together for five years. Can’t say as how I blame the woman for wanting a commitment.”
“It wasn’t commitment that had me dragging my heels and you know it. Angeline and I simply weren’t right for each other.”
“It took you five years to figure that out?”
“We had our moments.”
“She never did get over you leaving Manhattan.”
“Nope.” Beau took another swig. He had been nursing the bottle all afternoon and the beer had grown warm. It tasted dry and yeasty. “She didn’t understand about connectedness.”
Remy shook his head. “You and this connectedness business.”
“Try having my childhood and see what you end up yearning for.”
“Point
