It Takes a Rebel (24 page)

"I know what I see," Sammy said, her voice gentle but firm.

Jack entered from the side, wearing a white bathrobe, flanked by two giggling young women who were still powdering his

nose and patting his hair.

"See," the woman continued. "He's irresistible. Every woman he meets falls in love with him. But believe me, don't do it. It

took me years to get over him." Sammy clapped her hands to get the attention of the crew that appeared pushing pallets of

furniture and other props, then started belting out directions.

Alex tried to shrug off the woman's well-meaning warning—she had nothing to worry about. But she found herself

mesmerized as the shoot commenced and Jack moved through numerous takes like a pro.

He was gorgeously somber in the business suit scenes, striding with purpose across an office setting.

He was charmingly casual in the backyard barbecue scene, tending a grill.

He was breathtakingly sweaty in the gym scene, lifting weights.

And he was knee-weakeningly sexy in the bedroom scene, reclining in boxers, the hand of one of the models on his shoulder.

The photographer took rolls and rolls of film of him in every one of the outfits she'd chosen—including the black thong,

which had all the women on the set twitching. Sammy suggested that they get a couple shots with his tattoo showing, which only

heightened the mood.

The man was magic, Alex conceded, and the camera loved him. He moved with economy, somehow packing a sense of

approachable masculinity into every gesture. Occasionally, he made eye contact with her, and to her consternation, her body

leapt in response. After three hours of a slow-burn, Alex had to cross her legs.

Sammy threw her a sympathetic look, then yelled, "Cut—that's a wrap."

Chapter 16

« ^ »

"
L
ooks to me like your business is just starting to gain some momentum," Stripling said, handing Jack a stack of papers. "So I'm

recommending that the penalties and interest be dropped. Coupled with the payment plan I set up, the agency should be caught

up on its back taxes within six months."

Jack shook his hand. "Thanks, Stripling. My brother Derek will be so relieved."

The man's smile was genuine. "Good luck, Jack." He tipped his hat to Tuesday, who gave him a fond wink.

When the door closed, Jack wheeled and pushed through the swinging doors. He poured himself another cup of coffee, then

dropped into his new leather swivel chair in front of his new wood and metal desk. To his extreme aggravation, Tuesday was

on his heels.

"All right, out with it."

Jack frowned. "What?"

"You just got the IRS off your back, you have six new client appointments set up for next week, your brother will be back in

a few days to help, and I've never seen such a long face."

Jack drank deeply from his cup. Since Monday, he'd been battling a funk born of proximity to Alexandria Tremont. After the

shoot was over, she'd announced she would be in touch once they had the results of the focus group audience, maybe sometime

this week. After several days of regular contact with her, he supposed he was suffering from withdrawal. He found himself

toying with the phone, or riding his bike near her building on the off chance a legitimate excuse for talking to her would occur

to him. One didn't.

He simply couldn't get the woman out of his mind.

"It's that Tremont lady, isn't it?"

"Absolutely not."

"Whew, the fire alarm's going to go off for sure, 'cause liar, liar, your pants are on
fire
."

He rolled his eyes upward to meet her disapproving gaze. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay," she sang, throwing up her arms and turning toward the front office. "No one can accuse Tuesday Humphrey of

sticking her nose in where it don't belong."

Jack snorted as she moved through the swinging doors, then swiveled his chair around to face the easels of posters he'd

drawn for the Tremont's account. He'd lain awake most of the night exploring his state of mind, and trying to get to the root of

the problem. He wished he'd never agreed to be the spokesman for the department store, account or no account. Because on top

of the increasingly suffocating feeling of being tied to someone else's schedule, there was the little problem of working with

Alex.

No, he corrected, the problem wasn't working with Alex—the problem was working with Alex and not being able to take her

home afterward. He lusted after the woman with an unprecedented intensity, and he knew they could have fun together for a

while. But Alex was engaged to a successful man, and he had nothing to offer her save a pile of paintings.

At the races she'd said she liked the serious, professional side of him. Except the serious, professional side of him that she'd

seen had all been a sham, propped up by his lies and Tuesday's corroboration. He had no desire to be serious and professional.

Just thinking about being tied to this desk, or to any desk, made him jittery.

What he needed was distance from her. Maybe if he took a trip, gave her time to marry Reddinger…

His phone beeped, which meant Tuesday had patched a call through to his line.

"Jack Stillman," he said into the handset.

"Jack, it's Al Tremont."

"Hey, Mr. T., what can I do for you?"

"Just calling with good news, son. The focus group gave the commercials a big thumbs-up, highest marks possible."

"That's great, sir."

"So, with that little formality behind us, we need to sit down and negotiate a long-term contract with your agency, and for you

to be the exclusive Tremont's spokesman! The marketing department is gearing up for billboards, personal appearances, you

name it."

Jack's stomach clenched. "Mr. T., I need to talk to you about that. Of course, the agency would be honored to handle your

business, but … I'm bowing out as spokesman."

Al made a choking sound. "What? I don't understand."

"I'll honor the contract we signed giving Tremont's permission to use the spots that were filmed, but that's the end of it for

me."

"But why, son?"

"It's complicated, sir."

"It's Alex, isn't it?"

Jack blinked. How much did her father know? "I don't know if you've talked to Alex about it—"

"Yes," Al cut in. "I know it puts you in an awkward situation, son, but I was hoping the two of you could work together

despite the, um,
problem
."

Damn, maybe they were closer than he'd assumed. "Please don't take offense, sir, but I simply can't work under these

circumstances. I'll hand off your account to Derek, and I'm sure you'll find a new spokesperson soon."

Al cleared his throat with a low rumble. "I don't think you understand, son. It's
you
I want, not your agency. I can get just

about anyone to come up with a catchy slogan and draw me a few pictures, but I want Jack the Attack representing the store."

Stunned, Jack sat in silence. Just as he'd suspected.

"To put it plainly, Jack—no endorsement, no advertising account. And if it sweetens the pot a little, you won't be working

with Alex. You'll be working with our new vice president of marketing and sales, Bobby Warner."

So Alex hadn't received the promotion.

"What do you say, Jack? Are you in?"

Jack sighed, and although anger drummed through his veins, he could imagine the disappointment on Derek's face when he

told him they'd lost the account.

"Sure, Mr. T. I'm in."

* * *

Richardson's advice during the commercial shoot, Alex had come to a frightening conclusion. She, the woman who prided

herself on forging a stable future on all fronts, had fallen for a motorcycle-riding rebel who would soon be voluntarily

homeless and had no intention of settling down with one woman.

And with the overwhelmingly positive response from the focus group, it looked as if Jack would not only be their

spokesman, but would be handling their advertising account to boot. She'd kept her word to her father, and although she'd

underestimated Jack's ability, she was willing to concede that having him as a spokesman might give them the sales boost they

needed.

She'd simply have to find a way to disguise her feelings for Jack and work with him until she could arrange to hand off the ad

agency liaison responsibilities. The future seemed a little vague, but of one thing she was certain—when Heath returned from

Cincinnati this afternoon, she would break their engagement.

Funny, how her feelings for him—or rather, her lack of feelings for him—now seemed so crystal clear relative to her

feelings for Jack. She realized how much she and Heath had been robbing each other of a wonderful experience. Heath

deserved someone who loved him the way she loved Jack—wildly and unreasonably. If Heath truly loved her, which, upon

reflection of their relationship, she doubted, then he would eventually get over her, just as she would eventually get over Jack.

"Alex," her father said, striding into her office without the courtesy of a knock. His face was flushed scarlet, and she was

immediately concerned for his health.

"Yes, Dad?"

"I just wanted you to know that you almost cost us an ace spokesman."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I just got off the phone with Jack Stillman, and he was ready to decline a long-term contract for spokesman because he said

he couldn't work with you anymore."

Confusion, hurt, anger—her mixed emotions, tripped her tongue. "I d-don't understand."

"You promised me," her father said, his tone low and accusing. "You promised me that you would work with him, and now I

find out that you've been so difficult, he doesn't want to work with Tremont's at all."

Difficult? Because she'd slept with him? Did Jack now find the situation too awkward? Her mouth opened and closed, but no

sound emerged.

"All because you were determined to sign some high and mighty advertising agency from St. Louis," he added.

"I had no idea Jack felt that way," she murmured, standing on shaky knees. "But if you feel so strongly about haying Jack

Stillman as spokesman—"

"You know I do!"

She swallowed. "I was planning to step aside and let someone else work with the ad agency."

"There's no need," her father said, laying a memo on her desk. "Bobby Warner was just named vice president of sales &

marketing, and he'll be taking over those duties." He exited as he'd entered, without preamble.

Stunned, Alex sat down to read the memo, disappointment coursing through her. Stinging from her father's words and Jack's

betrayal, she swung her chair around to face her computer, and put her fingers on the keyboard.

Through a blur of tears, she typed a short letter of resignation from the company she loved. Her father's attitude had made one

thing perfectly clear—she could no longer work in this environment, yearning for the love of two men she'd never have.

A few minutes later, a knock sounded at her door. Sniffing quickly, Alex looked up to see Heath stick his head in. "I heard,"

he said softly. "Can I come in?"

She nodded, her stomach churning. "When did you get back?"

"Just now. I'm sorry about the vice presidency, Alex, but in light of my news, it might be for the best."

She frowned. "What news?"

His smile was a bit shaky. "One of the reasons I've been spending a lot of time in Cincinnati lately is because the bank where

the store has its accounts has offered me a job. A great job."

Unable to hide her surprise, she asked, "Why haven't you said anything?"

He shrugged. "I was afraid it wouldn't pan out, and I didn't want you or your dad thinking I wasn't being loyal. I know this

company means everything to you."

"Heath, I just typed my letter of resignation."

"What?" His expression changed from surprise to elation.

"That's wonderful! Now we can both go to Cincinnati—I know you'll be able to find a terrific job there, Alex."

She looked at Heath, his cheeks pink from excitement, his eyes shining with enthusiasm. They could make a clean break from

Tremont's, from Lexington, from her father, from Jack. Could their relationship be salvaged? Alex bit down hard on her lip,

wavering.

Chapter 17

« ^ »

T
o get his mind off Alex that afternoon, Jack threw himself into the paperwork on his desk, finishing tasks as fast as Tuesday

could stack them in front of him.

"I don't know what's gotten into you," she said, finger wagging, "but I hope it's chronic."

Jack sighed. The
last
thing he needed was a persistent dose of the hots for Alex Tremont. "Would you mind labeling folders

for the accounts we'll be calling on next week? I need to file some information I found on the Internet."

"One step ahead of you," she said cheerfully, setting the stack of labeled folders on the edge of his desk.

Jack smiled. "Thanks."

"Do you mind if I take off a little early? Reggie wants me to meet his girlfriend tonight, so he's taking us out to dinner."

"Have a great time," Jack said, lifting his hand in a wave. As he picked up the folders, he realized how valuable the woman