“Would you mind hitting the “Close” button?” My voice was edgy.
“Good idea. Places to go; people to meet.” He rose to his feet. My eyes roamed up his long, athletic legs. He was easily six foot three. A magnificent pillar of leanness and muscle.
With his long forefinger, he pushed the button, and the doors glided together. The elevator descended, but before I could stand up, it came to a jolting halt. I felt the onset of a mini panic attack. My heart raced and sweat pooled behind my knees. I hated being out of control.
“Are you okay?” asked the mysterious stranger, crouching down again.
I gulped. Unable to find my voice, I nodded like one of those bobble head dolls. The truth: I was losing it, and I wasn’t sure if it was the effect his gorgeousness was having on me or that of the erratic elevator.
He brushed my chin with the edge of my long platinum braid. “Don’t worry. This happens all the time with this elevator.”
Without warning, the elevator jerked and began to free fall. I gasped while the breathtaking man beside me contently grinned.
“Hey, we’re moving again. This is an express elevator, so we’ll be down in no time.”
My heart dropped to my stomach even faster. This man was having a very uncomfortable effect on me. I felt my cheeks heat and my heart tick like a metronome.
In no time, the elevator reached our destination, and the doors opened wide. My companion lifted me to my feet. His firm grip around my shoulders made me tingle. We stood face-to-face. My five foot seven inch frame in six-inch heels confirmed his estimated height. Standing erect, his body was even more imposing than I’d imagined. His shoulders were square, his hips narrow, and his legs long and solid.
“Ladies, first,” he said with a sexy wink.
With my briefcase in hand, I shot out of the elevator and walked briskly through the bustling mid-century themed lobby to the entrance of the hotel. The clickety-clack of my heels across the marble floor echoed in my ears. Mr. Infuriating strode next to me, keeping up with my pace with ease.
Outside the tall, early steel and glass building, we stood side by side. The early morning rush of New York pedestrians and cabs passed us by. The weather was picture-postcard perfect and surprisingly mild for a mid-February day. I was glad that I didn’t wear a coat
“Can I give you a ride?” he asked. “My driver will be here any minute.”
“I have my own driver,” I replied without looking his way.
“Impressive.” I didn’t miss the playful sarcasm in his voice.
His driver, in a sleek black Ranger Rover, pulled up first. A hotel valet raced to open the back door for my companion.
“See ya.” He winked at me again.
Bastard!
With a roguish smirk, he slid into the Rover. His eyes lingered on mine before the passenger door closed. My deadpan face didn’t move a muscle as the car pulled away.
Two minutes later, my black town car pulled up. My driver stepped out and escorted me into the back seat.
“Good morning, Miss Long.”
“Good morning, Nigel,” I said brightly as I sidled gracefully into the car. Trusty Nigel was always my driver when I came to New York for business. I could always count on the jovial, silver-haired Brit to get me anywhere. And there on time.
“Where to this morning?”
I gave him the address of ZAP! It was located in the heart of Soho.
I leaned back into the comfy leather seat and let out a sigh. This was the tenth—-and last advertising agency—I was visiting. Since the beginning of the week, I had met with all of the top Madison Avenue ad agencies. It had been a draining, whirlwind tour.
Truthfully, none of them had impressed me. As CEO of Gloria’s Secret, the largest lingerie retail chain in the world, I was looking for a creative team to help me bring my empire to a new level of sensuality and sales. With the insane popularity of books like Fifty Shades of Grey, I was convinced women were looking for a new way to express themselves. A way that communicated: Take me—I’m yours. If we were going to stay ahead of the competition, then I had to be the first to tap into this hot, new erotic trend. We were already developing a line of provocative products.
The car cruised down Fifth Avenue, Nigel expertly weaving in and out of the maddening mid-town traffic. In the back seat, I mused about my upcoming meeting.
Unlike the other ad agencies I’d visited, ZAP! was a relatively new kid on the block. What was called a “boutique agency.”
Several things I’d read online about it had impressed me. First, they had created a campaign for a new Japanese minivan that made the word “minivan” sexy. The campaign’s tagline: “And the mommy goes “mmmmmmm.” Anyone who could turn an oppressive minivan into a sexy beast scored points with me.