Sweet Deception (19 page)

After the meeting with the account manager, Helena, Rex and I went back to their office to brainstorm.

“Ugh.” Rex pulled a face, as he dropped into his chair. “How the hell are we meant to make this glamorous? Toothpaste isn't exactly the sexiest of items, is it?”

Helena pulled out a new pad, and drummed her pen against the paper. She always thought best when she was jotting down words or images. “Let's think—what are we trying to say here?” This was typical of her thought process—other than my mother, she had one of the most logical brains I'd ever encountered, and always boiled projects down to their simplest concept and then built up from there. “We basically want something that says it's going to whiten your teeth, but also keep them strong. Now, what has
strong teeth? Maybe an animal of some kind . . .”

Her pen was moving across the page already, as she started running through ideas. Then something popped into my head.

“What about a vampire?” I said it without thinking whether they wanted to hear from me. Up until now, I hadn't put any suggestions of my own forward, but instead had just carried out the ideas that Helena and Rex gave me. They both turned to stare at me, surprise written across their faces. Maybe it wasn't appropriate, but I ploughed on regardless. “Vampires use their teeth all the time, to bite their victims, which means they have to be strong. And they're alive for ages, so that gives the suggestion that the toothpaste helps your teeth last. And vampires—well, everyone thinks of them as sexy and glamorous, don't they?”

Neither of them spoke for a moment. I wondered if they were going to tell me what a ridiculous idea it was, but then Rex broke into a smile.

“I like the way you think, girl.”

“Not bad.” Helena was nodding thoughtfully. “That's not bad at all.”

Rex began jotting some words onto a page. “And how does this grab you for a caption: ‘For strong, white teeth, that will last several lifetimes'?”

Helena held up the package of Brite toothpaste. “And instead of ‘Bite Me,' we could say ‘Brite Me.' ”

Rex chuckled. “That's just cheesy enough to work.” He looked over at me. “Congratulations, darling. It looks like you've just come up with your first creative concept.”

*  *  *

The rest of the day was spent refining and honing the idea, and then it was left to me to put together the storyboards. It was a Friday, and Rex and Helena were both leaving early—he was going home to see his family in Cornwall, and she was heading to Paris for a friend's hen do. Before they went, they both looked over my work, and gave me a couple of small changes to put through.

“There's no rush on it, though,” Rex said as he was leaving. “You can make the changes on Monday, if you want.”

“I might stay and get it out of the way, rather than have it hanging over the weekend.”

“Whatever works for you.”

It took longer than I'd imagined to make all the amendments. When I was finally happy with what I'd done, I straightened up, stretching my back, suddenly aware of just how stiff I was from hunching over my sketchpad. I looked up at the clock, and saw that it was just after eight. The night cleaners had arrived, and I could hear the distant hum of a vacuum cleaner down the hallway.

Helena had asked me to put the sketches on Richard's desk when I'd finished them. He liked to cast his eye over all
the campaigns before they went out. So I put on my coat, and got my bag together, planning to drop them off on my way out. He wouldn't be around at this time, but at least the sketches would be there when he came in on Monday morning. Although knowing Richard, he'd be in at some point over the weekend anyway.

The offices were pretty much deserted at this time on a Friday night. There was only a handful of people still around, and they were on deadline, so no one stopped me to talk. They didn't have time for idle chitchat.

The executive offices were all shut up, and the secretaries' desks empty, their computers powered down. The door to Richard's office was closed, but I didn't even think about knocking. I just turned the handle and walked straight in—which was unfortunate, because at that exact moment, he strolled out of the en suite bathroom, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans.

I could feel my mouth forming a cartoon-like O, as my eyes ran over his bare chest. He had a towel thrown round his shoulders, but it did little to cover him. He was seriously ripped, with an actual six-pack, every muscle perfectly defined, like an underwear model.

I wasn't sure why his perfectly sculpted physique surprised me so much. I knew he worked out a lot and did a lot of sport. But somehow seeing him semi-naked like that had shaken me. I was so used to seeing him in suits, looking
smart and commanding. I'd forgotten what existed beneath. I also had to admit that for all the naked male bodies I'd seen in the last few years, I'd never come across such a perfect male specimen in the flesh before. I was used to guys who drank and smoked too much, and would have to sit down after running twenty metres.

“Can I help you with something?” Richard's amused voice jolted me out of my daydream.

“S—sorry.” I stuttered a little, feeling flustered that he'd caught me staring at him with such blatant approval. It was so unlike me—where were the smart remarks and general air of nonchalance that usually came so easily? “I wasn't expecting to see you here—and not like, well . . .”

I didn't want to look, but my eyes seemed to have a life of their own, and I found my gaze running over his naked torso again.

“I've just been to the gym,” he said to my unvoiced question of what the hell he was doing strolling round like this. “And I prefer to shower up here.”

“Oh, right. Of course.”

A fresh shirt hung on the handle of one of the filing cabinets. It looked like it had just been picked up from the dry cleaners, given the plastic cover on it. Richard walked over and, turning his back to me, slipped the towel from his shoulders, and shrugged the shirt on. “So what can I do for you?” he asked, turning back to face me, as he buttoned up.
“Or did you just stop by in the hope of ogling me?”

Usually I'd fire off a witty comeback, but for the first time ever my mind was blank. I cleared my throat, trying to pull myself together and focus. I nodded down at the storyboards in my hand. “I've got some sketches with our ideas for the Brite campaign.”

Richard's eyes brightened with interest. “Great. Bring them over. I'd love to see them.”

“What—now?”

“No time like the present, is there? Unless you need to rush off?”

“No, not at all.”

I walked over and laid my drawings on his desk. He came to stand by my side, and I tensed a little. I could smell the musky, masculine scent of his shower gel, and somehow I felt suddenly aware of him as a man—something I'd never felt before.

He appeared completely oblivious of how I was feeling, as he stood there flicking through my work. “These drawings are great,” he said finally. “I'd forgotten how talented you are.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled, both pleased and embarrassed by his praise.

“And Helena told me this was all your idea?”

“It was a team effort.”

He looked up and smiled at me. “I'm glad to hear all the
praise hasn't gone to your head.” He perched on his desk, growing serious. “But honestly, I'm really pleased with how everything's worked out. You're doing a great job.”

“I'm enjoying it. More than I thought I would.” I glanced away, knowing that there was something I needed to say, but not wanting to put it into words—to admit it to him, or to myself. I cleared my throat. “You were right,” I said finally. I forced myself to raise my gaze to meet his. “Working here has been good for me.”

His eyes glinted. “Do I get to say I told you so?”

“Not if you value your front teeth.”

Richard laughed. It was a rare sight, seeing him relaxed like that. His eyes crinkled and his strong cheekbones seemed more pronounced. It suddenly struck me how good-looking he was. I wondered why it hadn't occurred to me before.

His eyes dropped to the TAG Heuer watch on his wrist. “Look, I was heading off now. Do you want to walk out together?”

To my surprise, I couldn't think of anything else I'd rather do. “Sure. Why not?”

He grabbed his gym bag, and we headed towards the lift. We walked in silence, which was unusual for us. Usually we were bantering about something or other. But tonight I felt strangely shy around Richard. I guessed it must have been the shock of seeing him half-naked.

“So what're you up to this weekend?” Richard said as we stepped into lift. He gave me a sideways glance. “Or is it best if I don't know?”

“What do you mean by that?” The teasing about my excessive lifestyle was standard for us, but for the first time ever it bothered me. “Oh, right, I get it. You don't want to know because I must be up to something debauched?”

He looked a little taken aback by my snappiness. “Sorry . . . I didn't mean anything by it. I just know you like to go out a lot, and I assumed you'd have plans tonight.”

“Well, I don't.” I sounded prissier than I'd intended. I couldn't understand why I was feeling so defensive. And then an idea entered my head. “In fact, do you want to grab a drink?” I said abruptly. The words were out of my mouth before I was even aware of what I was doing. “Maybe even dinner? My treat. To say thank you for everything you've done for me.” I wasn't entirely sure that was the reason I wanted to take him for dinner, but I didn't want to examine my motives too closely right now.

Richard's eyes flicked over to me. I saw a hint of surprise there, and then it was gone. “I'd love to.” His words were clipped. “But I've got plans tonight.”

I was surprised by just how disappointed I felt. “Oh, right. Of course.” I forced my voice to sound bright. “Another time perhaps . . .”

He didn't respond.

I stared at my feet, feeling a little awkward and embarrassed. Fortunately the elevator door pinged then, alerting us to the fact we had reached the ground floor. But any relief I felt at the chance of making a quick getaway evaporated as the doors pulled open, and I saw Petra sitting on one of the couches in reception.

She looked up as the lift doors opened, and when she saw it was Richard, she got to her feet, reminding me just how annoyingly tall, slim and elegant she was.

“So I take it you two made up?” I said to Richard, as we crossed the reception floor.

He didn't bother to reply, and there was no more opportunity to ask questions, because we'd already reached Petra. I stood by as she exchanged a quick kiss hello with Richard. I felt small and scruffy next to her, like I'd been thrown together. I caught a glance of myself in the glass frontage of the building. Even in my more sober clothes, I still looked cheap and trashy. Not smooth and classy like her. I blamed my hair. The bleach was just too much . . .

Richard turned to me. “Petra, you remember Charlotte?”

Petra's smile dimmed a little. “How could I forget her? Richard mentioned he'd found you a job here. He said it was difficult for you at first, but that you'd settled in now.”

“He did?” I couldn't help feeling a little betrayed that he'd been talking about me with her.

Petra must have sensed my discomfort, because I saw a
small smile playing on her lips as she ploughed on. “He's so sweet to you, isn't he? Talks about you all the time, like he's a concerned big brother.”

I'd heard this said before, but for the first time it annoyed me.

“Really? He talks about me all the time?” I smiled pleasantly, to take the sting out of my next words. “That's funny—because he never mentions you.”

Petra blinked in surprise, and then her green eyes narrowed a little, as she studied me more carefully. Richard frowned at me, looking perplexed.

“I hate to be rude,” Petra said as she slipped her arm through Richard's. The knife twisted farther in my gut. “But we really should be going. We're already late for our reservation, darling.”

“Sure. Let's grab a cab.” Richard looked over at me. “Can we drop you somewhere?”

The look of horror on Petra's face at the prospect of me crashing their evening was almost enough to make me take him up on his offer, but I had no desire to play third wheel. “Thanks, but I'm fine.”

They bid me goodnight, and hurried outside to hail a cab. I followed them, but turned in the direction of the Tube station. I glanced back in time to watch Richard opening the car door for Petra. She paused as she was getting in, to say something to him, and he threw back his head and laughed.
I hadn't seen him so relaxed for ages. But it wasn't the sight of Richard looking happy with Petra that took me by surprise—it was the flash of jealousy that ripped through me.

“Earth to Charlotte,” Rex said. “Is anyone in there?”

He waved a hand in front of my face. I blinked a few times, as I came out of my daydream. I looked up to see Rex standing above my desk and staring at me with a quizzical look on his face. “Sorry. What did you say?”

“Forget about that.” He perched on my desk. “I want to know what the hell was going on in that head of yours just now? You looked miles away.”

I felt my cheeks heating up a little. Although I'd never admit it, I'd been thinking about Richard. It was strange, since walking in on him half-naked the previous Friday, he'd been on my mind. Whereas before I'd go out of my way to ignore him at work, this week I'd found myself looking out for him all the time, hoping that I might run into him or find an excuse to talk to him. I'd even caught myself spending more time over my appearance in the morning, thinking
about what I was wearing and how my hair and make-up looked.