He had indeed done his homework. But there was no way in hell that I was going to let him know that I was impressed. My expression remained impassive while I responded.
“Yes. We’ve enjoyed phenomenal success. But we can’t stop here. Imitators are springing up. We’ve got to stay on the cutting edge, ahead of the competition.” I paused. Okay, now the test. “Did you read Fifty Shades of Grey?”
He grinned. “Of course.”
Ha! I didn’t believe him. He was bullshitting me. I could tell by the wry look on his face.
“Okay, then what’s the full name of Christian Grey’s adoptive mother?”
“Are you testing me, Gloria?”
“It’s Ms. Long, and yes, I am…Well?”
Without wasting a second, he said, “Grace Trevelyn Grey. And she’s a pediatrician.”
Damn it! Score one for him. Except for one feminist copywriter who pooh-poohed the book for demeaning women, none of the Madison Avenue suits had read it. I had to hand it to him. But exam time wasn’t over yet. “Mr. Zander—”
“Please call me Jaime.”
“All right, Jai-me, tell me, what, in your opinion, has made the book so popular with women?”
He leaned into me, looking straight into my eyes. His gaze was mesmerizing. As much as I wanted to divert my eyes, they stayed on him.
“Truthfully, while the sex is hot, I believe women fall for the romance.”
“What do you mean?” I was all ears.
“Well, Ms. Long, wouldn’t you like me to scoop you up in my arms… tell you that ‘I want you, body and soul, forever’ and make insane love to you on the couch?”
Inwardly, I gasped. He had actually quoted Christian Grey. My eyes took in his mountainous biceps, jumped to the couch, and then back to his crotch. My temperature had just risen ten degrees. Confession: I had the burning urge to shrug off more than just my suit jacket.
He leaned in closer and growled in my ear. “Or would you prefer me to throw you over my desk… or perhaps carry you away and devour you on the conference room table down the hall?”
I squeezed my inner thighs together and could not stop my crossed leg from swinging like a pendulum—a behavior that was so not in my repertoire. I jerked away from him and found my voice. “You seem to know women rather well.”
He sat back in the chair. “Yes, I do.” His tone was confident, almost cocky.
“In my experience, the only men who understand women are gay. Are you, by chance, gay, Jaime?”
He let out a deep, sexy chortle. “Hardly. I could have several hundred stunning women give you a stellar recommendation.”
“Oh, so you have them review you like you’re a book on Amazon?” My deadpan sarcasm camouflaged my shock at the number of women he’d likely fucked.
He laughed again. “You’re quite witty, Ms. Long. I like that in a woman.”
Again, I was speechless. Damn him!
He moved in again uncomfortably close to me and snagged my braid, coiling it around his lithe, long-fingered hand. “So, what will it take to win your account?”
The hair play was angsting me out. And so was his proximity. I promptly removed his hand from my tresses and composed myself once more. “I’ve asked every agency I’ve met with to come up with a pitch by Friday. Do you think your agency could do that?”
“Not a problem. I’ll put my best person on the job right away.”
“And who might that be?” I asked, my voice dripping with a mix of curiosity and sarcasm.
He grinned wickedly. “Yours truly.” With that, he rose and escorted me to the door. Before I could step over the threshold, he barricaded it with his body and outstretched arms. His biceps flexed as he pressed his hands against the framework. We were face-to-face again, only a breath way.
His eyes bore a hole in mine. “I meant to tell you, Ms. Long, I find your eyes fascinating.”
Most people did. My right eye was blue; my left one brown. I had a rare genetic condition known as heterochromia. In press releases and on the Internet, both eyes appeared to be brown thanks to Photoshop. But because I suffered from dry eye syndrome, I was unable to use contacts to conceal my idiosyncrasy the rest of the time.
Jaime continued to study my mismatched eyes. “They’re contradictions just like the rest of you.”
That I hadn’t heard before. “What do you mean?”
“Your mind says one thing, your body says another.”
His words spurred a rush of tingles to my core and sent my heart into a gallop. Damn him! He was unhinging me again. “Mr. Zander, can I please leave?” I spluttered.
With a smirk, he pivoted so that he was leaning against the doorway. He gave my braid a little tug as I hurried past him. “Ms. Long, I look forward to the pleasure of seeing you again.”
“The same.” Bastard!
As I stomped down the hallway, I could feel his fiery eyes on my backside. His voice traveled down the corridor. “Oh, by the way, I find your black lace push-up bra and matching thong very sexy. And that garter…”
Cringing, I just kept moving. How the hell did he know what I was wearing under my Chanel suit?
Chapter 2