The Corporate Marriage Campaign. Leigh Michaels

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      “On the contrary.” Darcy reached for a mug. “I’m working very hard to get a full-time job. In fact, one of the applications in the stack on the desk, waiting for the mailman to pick it up, is addressed to the head of marketing at the Kentwells stores. I put my best samples in it. Of course, I put my best samples in all the packages I send out.”

      “Marketing,” he said thoughtfully. “Dave said you’re trained as a graphic artist.”

      “You know, it sounds to me as if Dave was doing more talking about me than about his client. That’s not like Dave.”

      His gaze flickered. “I asked him about you.”

      “Really? I don’t suppose you’d care to tell me why you wanted to know?”

      “I might be able to pull some strings for you.”

      “Why would you want to?” Darcy asked bluntly. “Why would it even occur to you? The impression I made this morning can’t have been anything to make you want to help me out. Or do you mean Dave asked you to give me a hand?”

      He didn’t answer. “You have a certain potential.”

      “Oh, I get it. You’ll find me a job with your competitors so I can create chaos for them. Or are you just interested in getting me out of here so I can’t gossip about Caroline’s problems? Of course it’s a little late to prevent me from talking about what happened this morning, if I wanted to. Not that I would, because I can keep a secret.”

      “Dave assures me you’re the soul of discretion.” His voice was dry.

      “But you don’t believe him, so you want to cut a private deal to keep me from blowing my mouth off.”

      He didn’t answer. “I’d like to tell you about my problem, Ms. Malone. Or may I call you Darcy?”

      “I guess I can’t stop you from calling me whatever you want. But before you tell me all the gory details about Caroline, you should know I don’t counsel battered women or the guys who beat them up.”

      “I have no intention of telling you the details, gory or otherwise, about Caroline.”

      “Then what on earth can I do for you, Trey?”

      He seemed to flinch at the name. Darcy had expected he would, and that was exactly why she’d used it.

      “I started to tell you earlier,” he pointed out. “If I might finish my explanation?”

      Darcy handed him a mug of coffee. “Sure. I’ve got nothing to do but listen.”

      “When Caroline first set her wedding date, the stores’ advertising department decided to take advantage of the fact. What they came up with is a sort of hybrid of royal wedding and advertising blitz.”

      “Interesting combination.”

      “They’ve planned a three-month-long program of print and media ads showing the bride and groom choosing everything for their wedding and their new home.”

      “From an engagement ring to a lawnmower,” Darcy murmured.

      “I don’t think they thought of the lawnmower.”

      “Then your advertising department is obviously in need of some fresh blood.”

      He winced.

      “Sorry,” Darcy murmured. “I guess that’s probably not a good image right now, considering Caroline’s bruises and that scab on her lip.”

      “At any rate, the ad space and time have already been scheduled, the merchandise which will be featured has all been selected, and the photographers are booked to take the pictures. In fact, they started two days ago.”

      “I begin to see the dimensions of the problem,” Darcy murmured. “You’ve got all the pieces of a campaign and now the stars have winked out on you.”

      “That’s about the size of it.”

      Darcy sipped her coffee. “I don’t suppose you could be lucky enough that the fight between Caroline and her fiancé was over another man? Then you could just blot out the current guy from the photos and substitute the head of the new one.”

      “No,” he said. “We’ll have to start over.”

      “Of course you’ll have Caroline’s split lip to contend with—though I suppose you could photograph her only in profile, until she heals…”

      “Are you always this irreverent?”

      “Generally, yes,” Darcy admitted. “Though perhaps I should point out that it isn’t my intention to be disrespectful to Caroline and the trouble she’s having.” Only to you. Why are you telling me all this, anyway—Mr. Smith who wanted so badly to be anonymous?

      “Dave suggested we use someone else.”

      “You know,” Darcy murmured, “I’m always amazed when it’s the expensive attorney who comes up with the obvious answer and thinks it’s brand-new and original.”

      “Yes, I’d already considered the possibility of making a switch. The question, of course, is who to use instead.”

      Darcy shrugged. “Doesn’t the store have a bridal registry? You could call up the couples who are already listed and ask if they’d like some free stuff in return for using their pictures.”

      “Those people are already well into the process. They’ve made most of their decisions already. The whole point of the campaign is the excitement when a bride and groom look at all the options the store makes available to them.”

      “And then they’re going to choose exactly the merchandise you’ve already decided to feature? Sorry, I suppose I’m being irreverent again.”

      “Plus we need to start shooting again tomorrow—we’re already well behind schedule—and that doesn’t leave time to do background checks on the people who are already listed in the bridal registry.”

      “Investigate them? Whatever for?”

      “Considering why I’m here this morning, I’m surprised you have to ask. We narrowly escaped putting a batterer into a prominent spot in our advertising. I’d hate to find out after the fact that we chose a bigamist or a sex offender instead.”

      “You’re just about as big a cynic as Dave is. Okay, how about Dave?”

      “Dave?”

      “Salt of the earth. He wouldn’t exactly be royal wedding material, but the ads would have the advantage of looking like real people.”

      “Real people?”

      “Yes. Pardon me for saying it, but I think the average customer of your department store is likely to have a little trouble picturing herself in Caroline’s size three bikini. Your sister’s gorgeous—or she would be without the bruises. But she looks like a model. Whereas if you had a normal-size, СКАЧАТЬ