mixture of cheese, tomato sauce and bread hit her tastebuds. “You are my hero.”
“I try,” he said, snagging a piece for himself. “Some days it’s easier than others.”
They chewed in companionable silence.
“What do you think?” he eventually said. “Can we pull this off?”
“‘This’ meaning...?”
“The pitch. Three weeks isn’t a lot of time to finish everything you proposed.”
“Oh. Well, yeah, of course we can. Especially since we’ve got an entire department of talented people at our disposal.”
“That does help,” he said between bites. “I’ve never experienced this level of support before. I’m usually the guy they bring in to salvage a project that’s gone off the rails or save an account that’s in danger. No one ever really wants to work with me.”
She thought that sounded kind of lonely, but didn’t think he’d appreciate it if she told him so. “It is a pretty unique thing you do. How on earth did you end up being a modern-day dragon slayer?”
“I’m not sure. Just luck, I guess.”
“That’s some luck you have. You’ve worked with some of the best agencies out there,” she said, eyebrows raised.
“Yeah, well, I’ve got some connections. It’s all about who you know in this business,” he said, looking off into the distance.
The sour look on his face was one she’d seen only once before.
“Let me guess. The stepdad?”
“The one and only.” Mark grimaced. “He’d do just about anything to keep me out of his house and away from his wife.”
“What does he do, anyway?” For some reason, Becky imagined Mark’s stepdad as being some kind of modern-day nobility, living off his inheritance and not doing much of anything.
“You’ve heard of Kipper, Vonner and Schmidt?”
She snorted. “Of course. They’re only the largest ad agency in New York.”
“My stepdad’s the Kipper. And he bought out Vonner.”
“Oh,” Becky said, trying not to be impressed. “I guess he would have connections.”
“Yep. He’s the only reason I ever got any work. At least to begin with.”
Becky was willing to bet there was more to the story than that. But she wasn’t in the mood to push.
“Well, connections or no, you’re really good at what you do—at least according to the internet. You’ve got almost as many awards as I do.”
“Ah, so you cared enough to look me up, huh?
“Of course. You didn’t think I’d let you back into my pants without making sure you weren’t a serial killer first, did you?”
“I wasn’t aware that you’d put much thought into the situation at all.”
She lowered her eyes, suddenly unable to meet his penetrating gaze. “Well, I may have done it post-pants-getting-into. Last night.”
“I see. And what did you decide?”
She smiled. “Well, it was quite a debate. On the one hand, you’re great for stress relief.”
“Sure—I’ll buy that.”
“But you’re bad for the rep. I had an ice-queen thing going, you know.”
“Well, it’s too late to save her,” he teased. “I distinctly remember seeing her melt Saturday afternoon.”
“You might be right. But I was a little worried I might lose my competitive advantage by sleeping with you.”
“A valid concern.”
“But then I realized engaging in pillow talk is a great way to gather intel.”
“True enough.”
“There’s also the brain goo problem.”
“Brain goo?”
“Yeah, when I’m around you and start thinking about what we could do to each other my brain turns to goo.”
“Oh,” he said, looking devilishly pleased. “Well, that’s a good problem to have.”
“It is. Especially since the best way to fix it is to do the things I’m thinking about.”
“Which means...?”
“Which means you should probably stock up on condoms. I have a very good imagination.”
He grinned. “I already did.”
“Good. Because you know what I’d like to do right now?”
“What?”
“Have sex in an elevator.”
“Did you just...?