“A bunch of uptight pri—jerks with broomsticks up their rear ends.” He shot a glance at Lily, who didn’t react. “Not that I don’t like them or anything.” Then the impact of what Reggie had said hit him. “They’re buying Wild? That London firm? Seriously?”
“They’re based in London, but they have offices around the globe. Their portfolio of clients is world-class and—”
Jack cut him off with a dismissive wave. “Can the copy, Reg. I know who they are. Why? Why would you sell Wild Marketing? To anybody?”
Reggie folded his arms and leaned on the table. “I can’t refuse this offer.”
Disappointment coiled through him. Reggie was the smartest brain in advertising, a gifted marketer, unparalleled in the ability to schmooze clients and harness the power of an imagination.
“Why would you sell?” Jack asked again, hoping for a different answer, because the possibility of it being about money squeezed the life out of his chest.
“I have my reasons, Jack. And you…you would understand.”
“Good. Tell me what they are.”
Reggie closed his mouth and glanced at his hands, a gesture Jack had seen a thousand times when the man wanted to buy time and think of the perfect, processed response. But Jack deserved better than that. He waited.
When Reggie’s eyes finally met his, Jack could read the message. Trust me. “I have a compelling reason.”
But his blood had kicked into a slow boil and he’d long forgotten the woman next to him. Jack had come into Wild Marketing ten years ago, and in that decade he and Reggie had bonded into an incredible team and built Wild into one of the premier boutique agencies in Manhattan. Why would he let their rare and special little firm be swallowed up by some international conglomerate who wouldn’t know kick-ass creative from…from an infomercial? No. No.
He shook his head. Compelling reason wasn’t enough.
“You know that Anderson, Sturgeon and Noble will be the end of Jack Locke and your firm.” Jack kept his voice modulated, with no need to slam the table while he issued the ultimatum.
“I knew you would initially react that way. But I’ve made special arrangements in the contract. The only way they can buy Wild Marketing is if you are named president and the head of their New York operations.” He gave Jack an expectant look. As if he would jump up and down at the idea of being the president of Anderson, Sturgeon and Ignoble? “And that’s why Lily is here,” Reggie finished, indicating with his hand that it was her turn to talk.
She sat a little straighter and trained her gaze on Jack. “My company is called The Change Agency,” she said. “Reggie has hired me to work with you on a complete professional and personal image makeover to prepare you for the office of president and the management role that will require.”
For a moment he actually thought his veins would burst when his blood hit two hundred centigrade. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. No words. No jokes. No sound.
“It involves an external makeover and some performance coaching,” she added. “I’ve developed a technique and have had success with—”
Anger whipped through him and he whacked his fist so hard on the rosewood that the coffee cups rattled. Lily’s eyes widened, but she didn’t flinch.
“—a number of individuals,” she finished. As they stared at each other, she added, “I told you it wouldn’t have to be painful.”
He glared at her, then at Reggie, corralling a temper he didn’t even know he had.
“No, thanks,” he said quietly. “I don’t need any coaching on my performance.” He leaned over to Lily and gutted her with a look that he hoped reached right into her soul. “Surely you figured that out last night.”
Her cheeks paled slightly, but again, no flicker of emotion in her eyes. Oh. She was a tough one, this Lily Harper. This agent of change.
Slowly he stood. “Best of luck with this, Reg.”
“Jack, I need you.”
Jack froze at the note of…what was it? Desperation? Something in Reggie’s voice that had never, ever been there before.
“I have to leave the business,” Reggie said softly.
He had to leave the business? Jack just narrowed his eyes at his friend, his blood still heated enough not to trust what might come out of his mouth.
“The takeover by Anderson is contingent on having a president in place who knows the business and clients, because if we don’t, we’ll lose those clients and that business, and the new owners know that.” Reggie’s words were rushed, his voice as tight as the band that constricted Jack’s chest.
“Then I hope you can find someone, Reg. But it won’t be me in the navy-blue suit flying over to London for P&L meetings. Wrong guy. Wrong suit.” He angled his head toward Lily. “Wrong approach altogether.”
He left the room and hadn’t made it halfway up the center stairs before Reggie reached him. “Wait.”
He froze on the step and turned. “I’m leaving, Reg. I don’t know why you’re doing what you’re doing or why you needed to butter me up with some sex kitten first, but I’m leaving.”
Reggie took the few steps between them, putting his hand on Jack’s arm. “Listen to me.” Again Jack saw signs of pain he’d never seen before on Reggie’s face: a clenched jaw and the down-turned mouth. “Samantha is dying.”
For the second time that day Jack thought he’d been punched. “What?”
“She has inoperable brain cancer.” Reg’s dark eyes welled behind the glasses and Jack could hardly swallow. “I have to give her the one thing I haven’t given her for twenty-five years while I chased my dream and my clients and my success.”
Jack still stared at him.
“I want to give her time, Jack. Every minute I can, I want to be with her.”
“Are you sure?” This couldn’t be. Not the gentle woman who had never said a mean thing in her life, who only wanted children, and never had any. “Have you gotten a second opinion? A third?”
A spark lit Reggie’s eyes. “That’s the other thing I can give her. There is some chance, some possible surgery, but the cost is astronomical and the doctors are in Europe.”
“You have the money, Reg.” He gestured around the gargantuan hall. “Sell this.”
He nodded. “I do. But if it works, I want to fund the program that can bring this surgery to the U.S. If it doesn’t work, I want to give millions to research. Millions—” he tightened his grip on Jack’s arm “—that I’ll make by selling Wild Marketing.”
How many slugs could a man take in one day?
“But Anderson wants a seasoned team member at the helm, Jack. They want the man who has been with me for the last ten years. The one who, we both know, built the reputation of our firm with the best damn creative mind in the business.”
Jack held his gaze. “But they want him with a crew cut and wingtips.”
Reggie smiled. “It’s not that bad. I only want you to work with her to…polish up a bit. Just to impress them. She’s amazing, Jack. You should see what she can do with a person.”
“I have.”
Reggie raised an eyebrow. “Buttered you up, huh?”
Jack managed a tight smile. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to do this.”
“Not even for Samantha?”
“Below the belt, dude.”
“Do this for me,” Reggie urged. “Work with Lily Harper, impress the guys at Anderson, keep the job for one year and then you’re free to do whatever the heck you want and I’ll back you.” Once again he squeezed Jack’s arm with a touch of desperation. “I’ll back you. Please. Help me out.”
Lily appeared in the archway that led to the dining room. Even with her uptight hair and right-wing clothes, she was beautiful. Her blue eyes locked on his, rich with challenge.
Aw, man. How the hell did this happen to him?
It didn’t matter how it happened. Because she could cut his hair and put socks on his feet and teach him how to eat with the right fork, but she couldn’t change him.
/> “How long does your average renovation take, Lil?”
Her lips tipped up. “A week at the most.”
“All right, then,” he said, melting her with one long look. “Let’s do it.”
And they would. Every single night.
Four
L ily stood silent for a moment as Jack disappeared into the upstairs hall, then she met Reggie’s gaze.
“So,” he said, his smile humorless, “that went well.”
She met him at the bottom of the stairs. “I’m very sorry about your wife, Reggie. I didn’t realize your desire to sell the company was so personal, or so painful.”
“It is both,” he acknowledged. “But I’m also sorry that Jack’s not quite as amenable to my plan as I’d hoped.”
“I think the tricky part will be getting him to conform without feeling like he’s selling out.”
Reggie sighed, pausing to remove his glasses and rub the bridge of his nose. “Have you ever had to work with someone who didn’t want your services, Lily?”
She glanced at the steps, still seeing the challenge and resentment in Jack’s eyes. And something else. Fear? Anger? Tenacity?
She was no stranger to any of those powerful emotions. “Most people have hired me because they really wanted to improve their image, so they weren’t reluctant. Still, he knows this is important to you and the business you’ve built.”
“I have to get this deal made,” he said, emphasizing that by putting a hand on her shoulder and squeezing gently. “And they won’t accept Jack at the helm of the New York operation as he is. Without him, the sale will fall through, because the agency clients will follow him wherever he goes, and without clients, as you know, the business is nothing.”
“I can polish him to a nice corporate shine, Reggie,” she assured him. “Can you stay for a few days to help nudge him along a little?”
“I’m sorry, Lily. I have to get back to Samantha. Every minute is precious.”
“I understand.”
“Will you say goodbye to Jack for me?” he asked, cocking his head toward the stairs. “He generally only sulks for a few minutes.”
She smiled. “I will.” In one way, it was better to be left alone with Jack. She’d probably feel more comfortable with the process and the inevitable arguments. On the other hand, without Reggie, she was much more vulnerable to Jack’s charm and the sizzling sexual attraction between them.
Well, the sizzling sexual attraction of last night. He surely wasn’t interested in her anymore.
Reggie gathered a jacket from where he’d left it hanging on a post in the hall. “You know, Lily, I chose you for this job because I sensed an inner strength and a certain level of control that I thought a performance coach for Jack would have to have.”
She nodded and murmured thanks.
“But don’t you give up that control,” he added.
“I won’t,” she promised, meaning it completely. “He’s not that persuasive.” Unless the lights are out and nobody’s home, that was.
Reggie chuckled. “Yes, he is. But let me throw this into the mix before I leave.”
She looked at him expectantly. Was he about to warn her out of Jack’s bed? Had he assumed—correctly—that the buttering up Jack had referred to included sex?
“If you succeed at this job, there’s a bonus in it for you.”
Not at all what she’d expected him to say. “It’s okay, Reggie. The money we agreed upon is more than fair.”
“This isn’t about money, not directly. This is about business. If you successfully make Jack into a textbook executive who impresses the British enough to get them to buy my firm, then I am willing to guarantee you the exclusive business for the entire firm of Anderson, Sturgeon and Noble. And I happen to know they are in the market for a professional performance coach to train the top executives in every one of their twenty-six worldwide offices.”
She felt her jaw loosen. Twenty-six worldwide offices? All of the top executives?
“I would love that opportunity, Reggie.” She almost laughed at the understatement. She couldn’t even imagine having that much work, that much income, that much security.
He adjusted the jacket over his shoulders and nodded. “And I’d love to give it to you. But this job won’t be easy. It won’t be a matter of changing Jack on the surface. You’re going to have to make him think and act like a different man or the Brits will see right through it. So you, Lily, have your hands full.” He gave her a tight smile and opened the front door. “I’ll be in touch. Mrs. Slattery has been instructed to meet your every need. I’m counting on you.”
“I won’t let you down,” she promised, reaching out to shake the hand he offered.
“Good luck, Lily.” He started down the front steps to where his car was parked in the circular drive, then paused and turned back to her. “And by the way,” he said, pointing a friendly finger of warning at her. “He’s an advertising genius. He’ll use anything he can to convince you he’s right and you’re wrong.” He shot up one meaningful black brow. “Anything.”
“I appreciate the advice,” she said, stepping out into the autumn sun in case his unambiguous comments sent a little heat to her face. He raised one hand in farewell and trotted to his car while she watched, thinking about the conversation.
She had so much to lose, and everything to gain with this project. She truly did appreciate Reggie’s warning, but she wouldn’t be foolish enough to let Jack derail her with sex. What they’d shared last night had been fantastic, but not worth the success of this makeover.
This was her chance. After all the years of classes, of service jobs, of night courses, of striving for something better her whole life. She’d never blow a chance to be the exclusive performance coach for a firm the size of Anderson, Sturgeon and Noble. She’d never blow the chance at the security she craved so much she could taste it.
Turning, she ran smack into a bare, broad, muscular chest.
Jack lifted one corner of his mouth, his green gaze relentless and penetrating. “Now it’s just you, me and the housekeeper,” he said. “You know what that means, don’t you?”
She shook her head, a number of possibilities running through her brain. “What does it mean?”
“That you’re outnumbered by people who like me just the way I am.”
“Oh, I don’t know, Jack,” she said. “I think Mrs. Slattery would like you even with shoes on.” She pointed to his feet. “We’ll start down there and work our way up, okay?”
He rocked back on those bare heels, easily drawing her attention to the fact that once again he hadn’t bothered to snap his jeans closed. “You know something, Lil? For a minute this morning I thought the shopping you had in mind was ring shopping.”
She rolled her eyes. “Nope. Clothes shopping. For you.”
“I thought you were looking for a husband.”
“A husband?” She put one finger on his bare chest. “I don’t need no stinkin’ husband.”
“Then we’re even, Miss Manners.” He grabbed her hand and flattened her fingers against his chest. “’Cause I don’t need no stinkin’ makeover.”
She didn’t move her hand, but let her palm absorb the feel of every hair, every inch of hot skin. “Too bad. You’re getting one. Meet me in the library in five minutes so we can go over the agenda.”
“We’ll work down at the beach,” he corrected.
And so the power struggle began. “No can do. I need my laptop to go over the agenda and walk you through the program.” She tried to ease out of his grip, but he held her hand.
“Walk me through the waves. That library is too constrictive for me.”
“It’s September. The water’s like ice.”
“We can stay warm. And wet.”
The tone, as much as the fact that she felt his pulse jump under her hand, shot a volt of desire through her and reminded her of Reggie’s parting words. Jack would use anything to persuade and distract her.
“The lib
rary,” she repeated. “With a shirt on.”
“Okay to the library.” He pushed her palm down an inch over a few coarse hairs. “But no to the shirt.”
“This isn’t tug-of-war, Jack,” she said. He held her hand flat and firm against his chest, slowly forcing her palm over stomach muscles so well-defined she could count them. One, dip, two, dip, three, dip.
He stopped at the open snap. “Maybe it’s just plain war.”
She slid one finger behind the snap and placed her thumb on the other side. “I’ll meet you in the library.” With one squeeze, she snapped the jeans closed. “Wear whatever you want.”
As she brushed past him into the house, she thought she heard him tsk. Or was that the jeans…unsnapping again?
“I have a plan.”
Lily looked up from where she’d stationed herself behind Reggie’s gigantic mahogany desk, managing not to blow out a breath of relief and victory at the fact that he wore a shirt. A tight black T-shirt with some red scratch of a logo across the chest, but still. Score one for Miss Manners. Two, if she counted the fact that she’d resisted the invitation to go swimming with him.
“Actually,” she said, tipping the screen of her laptop so he didn’t pounce on her agenda before she was ready, “I’m the one with a plan.”
“My plan’s better,” he promised, setting a cup of steaming coffee on the desk in front of her like a peace offering. Then he sauntered over to a long leather couch against the wall across from her. “God, I hate this room.”
He threw a pillow against the armrest and lay down, putting his bare feet up and balancing an insulated travel cup on his stomach.
“What’s wrong with this room?” she asked, glancing around at the steep walls of books, the dark wood and few well-chosen prints. “It’s got a very masculine feel, and it’s full of wonderful books.”
He closed his eyes. “It has too many walls.”
“I count four. The usual number.”
“You should see my loft in SoHo,” he said, sitting up to take a sip of whatever was in his cup. “Two walls in the whole place. The rest all windows looking out over New York. Every room open, no blinds, no barriers.”