Not Quite as Advertised. Tanya Michaels

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СКАЧАТЬ away. If only Nick would come in, she could excuse herself gracefully.

      Since it didn’t look as if anyone was bringing her a file in a cake, she’d have to spring her own escape. “We shouldn’t stand in the doorway like this.”

      “True. Buy you a drink?”

      “Very generous…considering it’s an open bar.”

      “It sounded more gallant than, wanna go get a free watered-down cocktail with me?”

      “Since when do you care about being gallant?” The old pain was numbed but still there, like emotional scar tissue. “I had you pegged more as opportunistic.”

      His jaw clenched, but then he shrugged. “Have it your way. I just thought maybe you could use a drink before you take second to my first. Again.”

      Not if there was any justice in the world.

      Her nomination this year was a first for Visions Media Group, and though Wyatt was ecstatic about the added credibility it lent his small company, she wouldn’t be satisfied with anything less than victory. Somewhere deep down, she questioned how healthy her desire to win was, but her mom had taught her that “also-ran” meant nothing. Besides, knocking Hugh down a peg would be a favor to the universe, benefiting all mankind.

      Womankind, at the very least.

      And it’s not like I’ve taken ambition to an unwholesome level. She wasn’t some unscrupulous nut who’d smear her opponent’s reputation, or bribe judges or throw virgin sacrifices into volcanoes to appease deities. Good thing, since the Dallas-Fort Worth area was as lacking in volcanoes as her social circle was in virgins.

      Inching away, she went with a more direct brush-off this time. “You’ll have to excuse me, Hugh. I see my boss over there, and he wanted a preview of my acceptance speech.”

      “By all means.” He didn’t reiterate his prediction of winning, but his smirk conveyed the message all the same.

      She ground her back teeth together as she walked away. Tuxedo, eight hundred and fifteen dollars. Cost of admission to ADster Awards Dinner, ninety dollars. Hugh Brannon’s ego, limitless.

      “AND THE GOLD ADSTER goes to…” Tessa St. Martin, a curvy woman in a short sequined dress, opened the envelope.

      Hugh waited along with everyone else for the winner’s name.

      “Kimmerman and Kimmerman’s Life in Motion campaign for ATC Tires! Hugh Brannon, account supervisor.”

      He shoots, he scores.

      The crowd didn’t exactly go wild, but all around the table, Hugh’s co-workers began congratulating him. Individual awards were given out for specific creative contribution, but recognition for an overall campaign went to the person who’d coordinated the client’s branding with the agency’s work. In this case, Hugh. His friend Mike Denton slapped him on the arm, and Kimmerman Sr. himself reached across the table to shake Hugh’s hand.

      Standing, Hugh nodded his thanks, but his mind drifted for a second to a fellow nominee across the room. He knew without seeing her that Jocelyn would be smiling graciously—as if she were actually happy for him—and clapping along with everyone else. He also knew she was crushed by her perceived “failure.”

      She’s got to learn not to take these things so seriously, he thought as he walked to the onstage podium.

      A competitive man himself, he didn’t mean to be hypocritical about Joss’s drive. He loved to win, and he was glad for the accolades. It wasn’t easy to make all-terrain tires memorable and entertaining, and he’d worked hard to integrate his team’s ideas with the client’s needs. But Joss worked hard at everything. If she kept up her pace and intensity, she’d have an ulcer.

      Or worse.

      His smile faltered at the dark thought, but he reclaimed it as he took his trophy and kissed Tessa’s cheek. Reciting his speech, he checked his impulse to look for Joss. Seeing her earlier tonight had been as galvanizing as the bell ringing at the opening of a boxing match, except fighting wasn’t what he wanted to do with her.

      Not the only thing, anyway. There’d been a time when their verbal sparring had been a prelude to mind-blowing sex.

      Despite telling himself he wouldn’t seek Joss out, he continued to subconsciously scan the crowd as he acknowledged the creative team he’d supervised. Ah—there she was, as gorgeous as ever and forcing herself to smile. Looking at her genial expression, no one would ever guess her fondest wish was to see Hugh shish-kebabbed on an open flame.

      Last year, she’d shocked him by walking over from Mitman’s second reserved table to congratulate him. It had been the only time she’d voluntarily spoken to him between his landing the Stefan’s Salons account and their parting of ways during the investigation of Mitman.

      He and Joss had worked in client recruitment, in no way associated with the departments accused of selling falsely manufactured data and using exaggerated focus-group numbers to cut costs and research time. But in spite of her blamelessness, after the industry scandal broke, Joss had become even more determined to prove herself than before—which he hadn’t realized was possible.

      Knowing there were other awards still to be presented, Hugh wrapped up his remarks. “There are doubtless others I could thank, but you all don’t want to listen to me drone on when there are more important people in the room.” He winked at Tessa, who stood stage left.

      Tessa was attractive, but she was no Joss McBride.

      He returned to his seat, managing not to look in Joss’s direction again, but her features were already etched on his memory. She was wearing her hair back tonight, but he preferred it down, softly framing an oval face with a stubborn chin. Her slim nose and high forehead added classic elegance, but her smoky jade eyes and full mouth promised untamed sensuality.

      If her face had left an indelible print on his mind, it was nothing compared to the impression her body had left on his. Joss could be as cool and tart as iced lemonade when she wanted to be, but he knew from the three glorious weeks he’d spent in her bed that the woman burned like living flame. Unfortunately for him, her passion also led to grudges, and when he’d won the account she’d been eyeing—and the resulting promotion—she’d refused to forgive him.

      Her uncompromising stance was a prime example of her taking something personally. He’d been doing his job! Sure, she’d been interested in the account, but her pitches hadn’t accomplished anything, and rivalry had always been part of their relationship. He certainly wouldn’t have kicked her out of bed if the situation had been reversed. He wouldn’t have kicked her out of bed for selling state secrets to foreign governments.

      More recently, Kristine Dillinger, a woman from his neighborhood, occasionally shared Hugh’s bed. Athletic and easygoing, Kristine was always up for a great weekend, whether it was going to a bed-and-breakfast in the country with early-morning hiking, or pizza and a leisurely night at his place. As long as they were both single, they got together when they felt like it and owed each other no phone calls or explanations in between. Their friendship was as comfortable as it was casual.

      No where-did-he-see-himself-in-five-years, what-kind-of-provider-would-he-be analysis. He hated dates that felt like job interviews. Maybe she didn’t set off the internal bells and whistles that Joss had, but time spent with Kristine СКАЧАТЬ