All's Fair in Lust & War Page 12

  Mark held up his hand. “High five,” he said, grinning. “We did it.”

  She slapped it enthusiastically.

  “What do you think David will do? Larry specifically said he wants both of us on the team.”

  “I have no idea,” Mark said. “And I’m not really in the mood to worry about it. Let’s go have us a Midwestern carnivore kind of lunch—and charge it to the company.”

  “That sounds fantastic,” she said. “But let’s go see if we can find Pence’s team and gloat first.”

  * * *

  The moment they stepped off the elevator Becky heard the sound of raised voices. One definitely belonged to Pence.

  Becky grabbed Mark’s hand and followed the squawks into the central reception area.

  “What do you mean, he won’t see us? I flew my entire team from Detroit for this meeting!” Pence sputtered, his face flushing beet-red as he gesticulated wildly. “I demand that he make good on his promise to meet with us!”

  Mary was doing her best to calm him. “I’m sorry, Mr. Britton, but there’s nothing I can do. Mr. Richards has left for the day.”

  “Left for the day? How can that be? I—we...”

  Becky knew she’d never have a better chance to exact her revenge. Stepping forward, she said, “Mary? I’m sorry to interrupt, but can I steal you for a second?”

  Relief flooded the other woman’s face. “Yes, Becky? What can I do for you?”

  “David had to leave, but he wanted me to make sure to tell you that he’ll be emailing over some contracts later this afternoon. In order to stick to the timeline Mr. Richards has requested we’re going to need to move fast.”

  “Of course. I’ll be on the lookout for them. Tell David he’ll have the signed contracts by the end of the week.”

  “Wait. What?” Pence squawked, his blue eyes flashing with anger as he moved to stand in front of Becky. “Are you telling me your team won the business?”

  “As a matter of fact I’m not telling you anything at all. You can read all about it in the next issue of AdWorld.”

  “You little...” Pence said, rage suffusing his face.

  Before he could finish the thought, Mark stepped forward.

  “Is this your old boss, Becky?”

  She nodded. “The one and only.”

  “I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said, extending his hand. “None of it good.”

  Pence reluctantly shook it. “And you are...?”

  “Mark Powers. Becky’s teammate. You have no idea what you missed out on when you let her go, buddy. This woman is brilliant.”

  Pence’s already scarlet face turned even redder.

  “I don’t know what she’s told you, but it’s almost certainly not what actually happened,” he said.

  “I’m not interested in your opinion,” Mark said. “Come on, Becky, let’s get out of here.”

  But Becky wasn’t done yet.

  Turning back to Pence, she smiled sweetly. “If you get canned, give me a call. We might be able to find a job for you. In our mail room.”

  Then she turned on her heel and swaggered out, leaving Mark to follow.

  When they were clear of the building he pulled her to him and kissed her soundly.

  “That,” he said between kisses, “was amazing.”

  “I know,” she said smugly. “You have no idea how good that felt. It’s like a million-pound weight has been lifted off my back.”

  “Wanna celebrate...in bed?”

  “I do. But not until we know for sure what we’re celebrating,” she said, stepping backward out of his arms. If David announced he was giving the promotion to Mark, she didn’t want to hear the news while still tingling from his touch.

  “Okay, then. Still up for lunch?”

  She shook her head. “I’d like to be alone for a little while. It’s been a big morning. I need some time to process it, you know?”

  He nodded, a sad smile on his face. “I get it. See you back at the office, then?”

  “Yep,” she said, then reached up to give him one last melting kiss.

  “What was that for?”

  “Just a little something to tide you over,” she said. Silently she added, And something for me to remember you by.

  * * *

  Mark jogged around the corner, his dress shoes slipping on the polished cement floor. If there was one meeting he didn’t want to be late for it was this one.

  Once the frosted glass doors were in sight he stopped for a second to catch his breath and straighten his tie.

  This was it. If he got this promotion he could finally feel as if he’d made it. That he’d gotten where he had in his career because he was talented—not because his stepfather had greased the wheels. His mother might even be a little bit proud of him. Maybe she’d stop thinking of him as a mistake.

  Taking a deep breath, he stepped through the conference room doors.

  It was crowded. And hot. Everyone in the whole agency seemed to be there, and the air was quickly growing stale. David stood at the head of the big table, with Becky on his right.

  “There you are, Mark. We were beginning to wonder if you’d gone off somewhere to celebrate without us.”

  “Just staying true to form. You know how I like to make an entrance,” he joked.

  Becky rolled her eyes at him.

  “Yep,” she said. “He’s the diva on this team. I’m the brains and the brawn.”

  The assembled crowd laughed appreciatively.

  “All right, enough monkey business,” David said. “Come on up here and we’ll get this show on the road.”

  Mark made his way to the front of the room, taking his place at David’s left.

  Once the audience had stilled, David launched into his speech.

  “As you all know, we delivered our pitch to Eden this morning. Mark and Becky led the presentation, and I must admit they did a fantastic job. They had the client eating out of their hands. They even got a standing ovation.”

  There was a smattering of applause in the room.

  “In fact,” David said, “the client bought into the campaign on the spot. We’re the new marketing partner for Eden Yogurt—and about to be two hundred and fifty million dollars richer as an agency!”

  The room broke out into riotous applause as their colleagues cheered their victory.

  “That’s not all,” David continued. “As you may remember, Becky and Mark have been involved in a competition of sorts. The prize was a creative director title and a hefty bonus.”

  The room stilled as everyone waited for the next part of the announcement.

  “But choosing one over the other has proved to be surprisingly difficult. They’re both incredibly skilled creative geniuses. They both worked on the winning concept from beginning to end. And they both gained the respect and admiration of the client.”

  Mark drew in a breath and held it.

  “So in the end I decided to create a new type of position. One that gives them each their due. Mark and Becky, you’re now creative codirectors. You’ll function as a creative director team, splitting the responsibilities for the Eden account according to your skillsets.”

  Mark blinked, trying to connect the dots.

  Next to him, Becky said, “So there’s no winner or loser? We’re both getting promoted?”

  “That’s right,” David said. “Eden is a new kind of account for us. It’s only right that a new type of team heads it up.”

  The room exploded with cheers.

  Becky shrieked happily and threw her arms around David. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you so much!”

  He chuckled and patted her back uncomfortably.

  “I’m the one who should be thanking you, my dear. You’ve jus
t secured my retirement. Which brings me to my last announcement... If this were a television show I’d have a giant check sitting here. But, since it’s not, you’ll just have to make do with these regular-size ones.”

  He turned to Mark.

  “One fifty-thousand-dollar check for you,” he said, and, to Becky, “One fifty-thousand-dollar check for you.”

  Stunned, Mark looked down at the check in his hand. This was really happening. The check was his. The job was his. And, he thought, looking at Becky’s laughing countenance as she accepted congratulations from her friends, at least for now the girl was his.

  He was surprised to discover that it was that last ingredient that made him the happiest.

  Maybe it was time to rethink the no-relationship clause.

  * * *

  By the time Becky managed to break free from her excited colleagues and escape to their office, darkness was falling over the city.

  She closed the door and leaned against it, reveling in the blessed quiet.

  She jumped when Mark’s voice rang out in the darkness.

  “Congratulations, creative codirector,” he said. “You did good today.”

  “Mark? Where are you?”

  “Just admiring the view,” he said, clicking on a lamp by the windows. “And enjoying the fact that I’ll get to look at it every day from now on.”

  Becky crossed over to where he was standing. Time to reintroduce reality.

  “What if I want this office?”

  He blinked. “What?”

  “Now that we’re both creative directors, or at least codirectors, David will probably give us each our own office. What if I decide I want to keep this one?”

  “I guess I assumed we’d continue to share,” Mark said. “Since we’re heading up the same account and all.”

  “I doubt it,” she said. In fact she hoped not. It would be almost impossible to keep her distance from him— something she knew she had to start doing—if they were in each other’s physical space all day.

  “Do you want your own office?” Mark asked, a dark look on his face.

  She sighed. “Yes and no. Mark, these last few weeks have been fun, but we’ve known from the beginning that this couldn’t last. Remember what you said?”

  “I said that we could both go our own ways after this thing between us had run its course.”

  “Right,” she said. “No harm, no foul.”

  “But, Becky,” he said, looking deep into her eyes, “I don’t think it has run its course. I’m having a lot of fun with you—even when our clothes are on. Let’s not give up yet.”

  Uh-oh. Unless she was very mistaken, he was talking about more than the occasional sexual romp.

  “That was never the deal, Mark. You don’t do relationships, remember?”

  He sighed and ran his fingers through his dark hair. “No, Becky, I don’t. Or at least I never have. But this... It’s different somehow.”

  She knew exactly what he was talking about. Somewhere along the way they had crossed the line from being sex buddies to...something more. Something that scared her even to think about.

  “I know,” she said. “But we can’t keep going on as we are—hooking up in the office on the sly and slipping out of the building when no one’s looking. We’re in charge now. Role models. We’re going to have to try to act like we realize that.”

  He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “Well, what if we try something different? Something normal and grown-up-ish. Like, you know, going out on actual dates. And spending the night together whenever we want, rather than heading home after a hookup. That could be fun.”

  “Mark...” she whispered. “What you’re talking about sounds an awful lot like a relationship.”

  “I know,” he said. “But I bet we can make it work.”

  “You and your bets,” she said, smiling. “Nothing is worth doing unless you can bet on it.”

  He grinned and lowered his lips to hers.

  “So what do you think?” he said. “Are you in?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll think about it.”

  Then he claimed her with his mouth and she stopped thinking at all.

  The next thing she knew someone was knocking. She jumped backward—but not before the door opened, admitting David.

  His eyes darted back and forth between her and Mark, taking in their slightly disheveled clothing and flushed faces.

  “David,” she said. “We were just, uh, I mean, we were—”

  “We were just cementing the official end of our feud slash competitive relationship with a hug,” Mark broke in.

  “Oh. I see,” David said, twitching his tie. “Well, that makes sense. Especially since you’re going to be working together every day. It’s important to present a united front.”

  “Exactly,” Becky said, glancing at Mark.

  “Well, I was just coming in to congratulate you one more time,” David replied. “Make sure you get some rest this weekend. We’re going to hit it hard on Monday. Becky, you’ll be moving into the office next door to this one—Fred Sutherland’s old digs.”

  She nodded, relieved that he seemed to be buying their story.

  “Sounds good,” she said.

  “See you Monday,” Mark chimed in.

  “Right you are,” David said, giving them one last suspicious glance. “Have a good one.”

  When the door was once again closed Becky whirled on Mark. “That,” she hissed, “is why an ‘us’ is not a good idea. I just got promoted. I don’t want to get fired.”

  “I don’t remember signing anything that said we couldn’t date coworkers.”

  “Maybe not, but I’m sure David wouldn’t approve of the two of us getting together. And you know how tough it is for him to treat me like a creative professional. He’d find a way to use our relationship as a way to discredit me.”

  “I think you’re being a little tough on the guy. All he cares about is the bottom line. And you just tripled his income. I don’t think he’s going to give you a hard time about anything.”

  Becky shook her head. It was no use. Mark would never understand how tough this business was for women. Or how biased David was against female employees.

  “Well, whatever. Only time will tell,” she said. “But I just don’t think he could handle the thought of us as both a couple and a working team.”

  If she was being honest, she wasn’t sure if she could, either.

  “Just promise me you’ll think about it,” Mark said.

  She sighed and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him goodbye. What she wouldn’t give to be able to throw caution to the winds and just say yes. But she had to start focusing on her career again.

  “I will,” she agreed. “But don’t expect me to change my mind.”

  NINE

  Becky was just sitting down with a steaming pot pie and a glass of her favorite Pinot Grigio when her cell phone began to whistle cheerfully.

  It was her mother.

  Becky stared at the screen. Should she answer it? Probably. If she didn’t, she’d just keep calling back.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “Well, there you are. I was beginning to wonder if you were lying dead in an alley somewhere.”

  “Don’t be so dramatic, Mom. It hasn’t been that long since we talked.”

  “I haven’t heard from you since you called to tell me you got home safely from the conference! That was almost a month ago.”

  Surely it hadn’t been that long? But, now that she thought about it, maybe it had. She had considered picking up the phone on countless occasions, but when she’d thought about everything that was going on, and how impossible it would be to explain to her mom, she never had.

  “I’m sorry, Mom. Things have been
really busy at work.”

  “Work, work, work. That’s all you ever talk about. When are you going to give me something to brag about to the ladies in my book club?”

  “Well, actually, something pretty huge happened today,” Becky said, suddenly eager to tell her mom. “I got promoted. To creative director.”

  There was a brief silence.

  “That’s nice, dear. Does that mean you’ll be able to afford to come home more often?”

  “I don’t know. We haven’t discussed salary yet. But I did get a really big bonus.”

  “Maybe you should use it to buy a place in a better neighborhood. I worry about you, you know. It doesn’t seem safe, especially with those tattooed hippies wandering around at all hours of the day and night.”

  “Mom. I live in Greenwich Village, not Hell’s Kitchen. This is a great neighborhood.”

  “I’m sure it is, but I’d feel much better if you didn’t live right in the city like that. There’s so much crime.”

  Becky smacked her forehead with her palm.

  “We’ve been over this a hundred times. I moved to New York because I wanted to live in the city. Not in some cookie-cutter house in the suburbs.”

  Now it was her mother’s turn to sigh. “I know, dear. I know. I just wish you’d move past this wild phase of yours and settle down with someone nice.”

  Becky snorted. Wild phase, indeed. “I’m only twenty-nine. There’s no rush.”

  “That’s what you think, dear. But once you hit thirty, your best baby-making years are behind you. I don’t want you to end up in some infertility clinic, trying to get your tired eggs to work.”

  “I know. I’ve read every article you’ve ever emailed me on the subject.”

  Her mother continued as if she hadn’t heard.

  “You know, your cousin is pregnant again.”

  “Which one?”

  “Tiffany. This will be her third.”

  “Well, tell her I said congratulations.”

  “You could come for the baby shower and tell her yourself.”

  “I’d rather stick needles in my eye,” she muttered.

  “I heard that,” her mother said, sighing loudly. “Well, I’ll let you go. I’m sure you have far better things to do than talk to your mother on a Friday night.”