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Damn. “You’re twisting my—”
“I’m only the back office details person.” She overrode his protest, G.I. Jane on a roll. “I’m handy with textbook theories, but have no useful practical experience. I couldn’t possibly help you in the real business world. Isn’t that right, boss?”
“No! You’re way off base. I’ve been under a lot of pressure, and I took it out on you. That was my temper talking, not me. C’mon, Lizzy, you know how I get. I’m not proud of lashing out when I get mad, but that’s the way I am.”
“No, Cameron. That’s the way you choose to be.”
The icy contempt in her voice chilled his blood. He suppressed a shiver of premonition. “Okay, you’re right. I should never have blown up in your face. I’m sorry, okay? Tell me what I can do to make you forgive me.”
“Move out of my way.”
He loosened his grip on the chair arms.
“I need to go type my letter of resignation.”
His elbows straightened and locked.
“What’s the matter, Cameron? Are those instructions too detailed for you? Well, here’s a high concept.” She raised her palms and flattened them against his chest, “I quit!” she yelled, and gave him a mighty shove.
He staggered backward and hit the edge of his desk, his rump coming down hard.
She erupted from the chair and crossed the carpet so fast a trail of static snapped in her wake.
Dazed, he blinked at the empty doorway, wondering how the situation had escalated so completely out of his control. He’d had many lively debates with his vice president since founding Malloy Marketing, but never a true fight. An ugly fight, complete with insults and bruised feelings.
His fault. His goddamn temper’s fault. All his life it had spoken before his brain could counsel caution. All his life he’d been forgiven due to a face and abilities he’d been born with, that made others seem to think he was special. A regular Golden Boy. And now, one of Austin’s ten most eligible bachelors to boot.
He raised the heels of both palms to his eye sockets and pressed. Yeah, he was a born winner, all right. Everyone thought so. He’d managed for years to scam them all.
All but the one person whose opinion he trusted and respected most.
Lowering his hands, Cameron conceded he’d pushed the boundaries of his friendship with Lizzy to the breaking point. Wounded pride had demanded her dramatic response. She hadn’t actually quit, of course. They were a team. A one-two punch. His creative campaigns and her marketing plans had knocked many an agency out of the competition for choice accounts.
Despite his mean-spirited reference to “my company,” she knew he appreciated her contributions. Hell, her salary almost matched his, solid proof of how important she was in the food chain. Still, she obviously wanted him to grovel a bit longer.
Cameron slid off the desk, smoothed his trousers and straightened his tie. No problem.
He’d hurt her, and for that, no penance was too harsh. He would give her the pound of flesh she deserved, even though they both knew she had no intention of resigning. Not to be cruel or anything, but…please. Malloy Marketing was her whole life.
Without it, what would she do?
CHAPTER TWO
SHE’D GO TO NEW YORK, that’s what she’d do. Madison Avenue, here I come!
Elizabeth marched down the long hallway, her vision blurred, her heartbeat loud in her ears.
Ten years she’d given to that man and his company. Ten years of blood, sweat and tears to help him fulfill his dream. And for what?
Had he thanked her for offering to help bail him out of this—or any previous crisis?
No.
Had he appreciated her arriving early and staying late day after day, year after year?
Not hardly.
Did he realize why she’d followed him from high school to the University of Texas, why she’d majored in advertising, why she’d chosen to work at a fledgling agency headed by an inexperienced owner fresh out of college?
He didn’t have a clue.
Any more than he knew she’d turned down three lucrative job offers from competing agencies in the past year alone!
“Elizabeth?” a deep voice boomed from an open doorway on her left.
She whizzed past. Tim’s complaint du jour about Mitch could hold. Better yet, Cameron could deal with the fueding account executive and art director. After all, they were his problem now.
“Hey, where’s the fire?” Susan called from the office on Elizabeth’s right.
She sped by without turning her head. One sympathetic look from the agency’s media director would turn on the faucet, and she had to stay tough. She had to stay mean.
She had to stay mad.
Firming her trembling lips, she hit the spacious tiled lobby at a near jog. From behind the curved receptionist counter, perpetual phone pressed to her ear, Rachel smiled her dear smile and motioned Elizabeth to come there.
Instantly her nose burned and her throat thickened. She never slowed.
Entering the second hallway, she focused on the fourth doorway up ahead. Almost safe. Just a few more seconds.
“Yo, Elizabeth!” Pete called from her left.
Not my problem, she told herself sternly. He was a copywriter. Let him write an interoffice e-mail if he couldn’t ask in person. Cameron was a jerk, but he wasn’t a monster. He’d let the man leave early for his son’s T-ball game.
The next two offices were blessedly empty.
She veered inside hers, slammed the door and slumped gratefully back against wood. Hallelujah. Peace and quiet. No curious eyes. She was safe at last.
Hiding from the real world in my nice safe office…
Elizabeth’s eyes slid closed against the sting of fresh tears. Despite Cameron’s intimidating verbal explosions, he wasn’t a violent man. His hot temper burned out quickly, leaving him rational and ready to deal with whatever had set him off. She’d grown proficient at dousing many of his flare-ups before they occurred, and failing that, had learned not to take them personally. His anger was usually about small stuff, not worth sweating over in the scheme of life.
But this stuff was big. A huge hot cauldron of seething emotion. Heaven knows how long this stuff had simmered inside Cameron before boiling over and spilling free. Without the added fuel of tremendous stress, he might have kept the lid on his true feelings forever. But he hadn’t. Intentionally or not, he hadn’t.
Bottom line, she was only another employee to Cameron. One he clearly didn’t consider a partner in any way.
She dragged in a shuddering breath and forced her tempestuous emotions to calm. Could she really abandon the agency—or Cameron—during the most serious crisis to date? No one else knew the company’s infrastructure or its leader half so well.
He’d been her first market-research study. A high school project she’d updated yearly. Once she’d inoculated herself against his physical beauty, she’d been able to observe him objectively. By now she knew his strengths and weaknesses, his habits and quirks, the name of every revolving-door girlfriend, every Malloy family trait—
He called your mother “Marian” an inner voice jeered. He didn’t remember your parents are getting a divorce!
Elizabeth flinched, then opened her eyes.
Financial worries could consume a person’s thoughts to the exclusion of all else. Her father was a prime example, and she’d forgiven him, hadn’t she? Did Cameron deserve any less?
What about you? Don’t you deserve more?
Of course she did! But…never again to walk through those lobby doors?
Always to go home to an empty apartment?
But…never again to be called “Lizzy”? Never again to see Cameron’s irresistible grin?
Never to be the center in a man’s universe? Never to be a wife and mother?
But—
He’ll never love you! Accept that and move on. Do it.
But—
Do it now, before you get the hots and need estrogen therapy more than sex!
Elizabeth’s shoulders sagged. Oh, God, reality sucked.
Pressing a fist between her breasts, she bled for the June wedding that would never be, the golden-haired babies she would never hold, the happily-ever-after she would never live with the man who directed her actions each day, and starred in her dreams more nights than not. When the last fairytale hope drained from her heart, she waited, curiously detached.
Nothing. Not even the tiniest blip of life.
So be it.
She lifted her chin and pushed away from the door. It was past time to get a life. Preferably her own, this time.
At her desk, Elizabeth booted up her sleek Macintosh PowerBook computer and glared at the newspaper folded carefully beside her telephone.
“Don’t scowl at me,” she told bachelor number six. “You’ll land on your feet. You always do.”
Sniffing, she focused on the screen and composed the most difficult letter of her life. Short, but definitely not sweet. Sweet was the old Elizabeth. The good sport, the team player, the referee and cheerleader rolled into one. The new Elizabeth was head coach of her own game, with her own rules. As of now, Cameron would sit on the bench.
She’d just written “Sincerely” when a soft knock sounded on her door.
“Go away,” she ordered, still typing.
Silence, then three sharp raps.
“Not my problem,” she yelled louder, saving the document.
The door rattled open. Elizabeth looked up. Cameron stood hesitantly in the threshold.
Maybe it was knowing she wouldn’t see that timber wolf stare in the future that weakened her immunity now. Whatever the reason, she desperately needed a booster shot.
The former heartthrob of Lake Kimberly High had matured into a major heart attack.
His extraordinary golden eyes gleamed beneath thick sable lashes, the contrast still as unexpected—the impact still as thrilling—as during her first day in Mrs. Connor’s English class. But today he wore expensive designer duds, not hand-me-downs from Travis. Chosen, she suspected, like the agency’s decor to show that its owner wasn’t “small potatoes”…as if anyone would make that mistake. Whether wearing Armani or Salvation Army, Cameron would exude a confidence impossible to miss. That much, at least, hadn’t changed.
But his hair had darkened over the years from sunny blond to antique gold. His jaw had hardened, his shoulders broadened, his legs lengthened, his muscles thickened. He’d reshaped an otherwise classically perfect nose while helping Seth worm a fractious mare. The tiny white scar bisecting one eyebrow was courtesy of Travis. A miscast fishing lure, as she recalled.
Watching him walk to her desk, she admitted the imperfections only enhanced his masculine appeal. The rough edge to his polish turned females of all ages into drooling simpletons.
As he pulled out one of her guest chairs and made himself comfortable, Elizabeth swallowed hard.
I have to stay mad. “What don’t you understand about the words ‘go away’?”
He tilted his head. “What’s ‘not your problem’?”
“Anything to do with you, that’s what,” she lied.
In point of fact, everything about him threatened her future happiness.
His expression shifted into puppy dog contrition. “Aw, Lizzy, don’t stay mad. You’re the one I count on around here to stay rational and calm.”
“A doormat usually does.”
“Doormat?” His brows lifted. “You’re nobody’s doormat. But I did steamroll over you back there in my office. I’m really sorry.”
“Yes, you are. A sorry SOB.”
He looked startled, but recovered quickly. “You’re right. I deserved that, and more. I was a total jerk. A complete ass. A stupid idiot…you name it. In the past ten minutes, I’ve run out of foul things to call myself.”
“Insensitive moron? Immature hothead? Controlling dictator? Let’s not forget compulsive liar—”
“Liar?”
Ah, finally. She couldn’t have held out much longer against humbleness. “What else would you call a business owner who, for months, hides his company’s true financial status from its highest ranking officer?”
“How about ‘thoughtful’?”
She could only gape.
“That’s right, thoughtful. You have a ton of pressure on you to develop SkyHawk’s marketing plan. I didn’t want to add worry to your full plate.”
“Bull. You didn’t think I could handle more stress. After all, I might’ve jumped out the window of my nice safe office.”
He smoothed his tie, a habit signaling either uneasiness or a grope for patience. “Would you please forget the lousy things I said? We’re a team. A pretty damn great one, in case you’ve forgotten what’s really important.”
She reached for her computer keyboard and pressed a button with flourish. “My letter of resignation is printing out now in the copy room. By noon, the whole agency will know I’ve quit.”
“Lizzy, Lizzy, Lizzy. You’re overreacting.” His sigh fanned the embers of her anger.
