The Forbidden Twin(10)

John wasn't taken into Fin's office but to the conference room attached  to it. Several people were seated at the oval mahogany table-the editor  in chief, Fin; her executive editor, Cade McMann; Bridget Elliott, the  photo editor … and Scarlet.

He'd never been to a meeting with Scarlet in attendance before. Why would an assistant fashion editor be there?

John shook hands with Fin, Cade and Bridget. He met Scarlet's gaze  directly and nodded. She raised her brows. No clue there as to how she  felt.

"I'm not going to beat around the bush, John," Fin said. "I'm sure you've heard about the competition my father instituted."

"I'm aware of the details." Having just seen Maeve over the weekend,  John realized how much Fin looked like her mother, although she had  Patrick's head-and drive-for business.

"I intend to win." She leaned toward him, her body rigid. "But I can't if you keep pulling ad revenue from my profits."                       
       
           



       

"I'm responding to what my clients' needs are, Fin."

"We came up with an idea we'd like to toss out at you. Go ahead, Scarlet."

Scarlet picked up a remote control. She gave him a quick look, all  business, which might have worked had she been wearing a gray,  pin-striped, baggy suit and her hair in a bun. Maybe. As it was, her  shiny hair curled softly over her shoulders, and she wore a deep purple  dress that clung to every shapely inch of her. His mind wandered … .

She brought up an image on the big-screen monitor on the wall. "Picture  this as a feature article. We might call it 'Trends,' or something like  that," Scarlet said. "Ten to twelve photos of the hottest trends for  each season, as we generally do. But this is an example of how we would  incorporate your clients' products."

A hip blond model was seated at a bar in what looked to be a  neighborhood pub. She wore an outfit meant to draw the magazine reader's  eye, but in her hand was a bottle of Crystal Crème soda. The  juxtaposition of a soft drink being served at a bar would make the  reader pay even more attention, he decided. Very clever.

"Product placement," Scarlet said unnecessarily. "Here are a few more."

Images flashed across the screen, each photo the superb quality that  Charisma was known for, and each including a product of one of his  clients, generally a food or drink item, easily integrated into the  scene.

Cade pushed a folder toward John. "Price guides. You'll find it cheaper  than a full-page ad, of course, but a fair price, we think, for the  value."

Scarlet handed him a manila envelope. "Here's a CD of each sample so you  can pitch your clients with visuals. These are mock-ups, obviously.  We'd have to work closely together, matching our focus for the article  with your product for the layout. Some products will lend themselves  easily, but some won't. Some of these products have never been  advertised in Charisma, like Crystal Crème. We think it opens a lot of  new doors."

"You know that once you start down this path, you won't be able to go  back," John said, skimming the price sheets. "And you'll be accused of  selling out."

"We've talked it over," Cade answered. "Analyzed it. Had a few hearty  debates, too. It's no different from a television program or movie  showcasing products."

"It's not as if it's something new in the business," John said. "But it  is new for you. Something you've resisted because of the ethics  involved."

"It's a new day," Scarlet said. "A time for change."

She'd parroted what she'd overheard him say to Patrick the past weekend.

"We ask one thing, John," Fin said. "We want an exclusive. You don't go  to the other EPH magazines-or anyone else-asking for the same thing. Let  us run with it first."

John nodded. "Unless they ask. I can't pass up reasonable business,  either, Fin. And I want an exclusive, as well. You don't offer this  opportunity to anyone else for a few months, either."

"Fair enough," Fin said. "I've asked Scarlet to be your liaison on this project. Does that work for you?"

He didn't dare look at Scarlet. "Sure."

"She came up with a list of your clients whose products might be suitable for us."

"That's very competent of her."

A momentary silence hung over the room, then Fin said coolly, "We're pleased we found a way to keep your business at Charisma."

"So am I." And now he and Scarlet would work together as well as play  together, if that was what they could call it. But this business  relationship would extend beyond the month.

"If you have time to stay and talk with her now, we would appreciate it."

"I do."

"Good." Finola rose, as did Cade and Bridget. "We'll be in touch."

The room emptied except for Scarlet and John, who sat across the wide table from each other.

"Your concept?" he asked her.

"Does it matter?"

"Just curious. I couldn't figure out why an assistant fashion editor was  in on an ad meeting. If you came up with the idea, it makes sense that  you would be here. Seems to me, though, that you'd like to take credit  for something so daring for Charisma."

Scarlet sat back in her chair, her arms crossed. "Fin's a great boss.  She's turned us into a team where credit and blame are shared."

"I've known her for a few years. This is the most on edge I've seen her."                       
       
           



       

"The competition." Scarlet shrugged. "Everyone's feeling the pressure."

"You think she should be the one to win? The one to become CEO of EPH, over your uncles?"

"I don't work for them." She smiled sweetly. "Here's the list." She skated it across the table.

He caught it, stood and walked around the table, not taking his eyes off  her. She watched him, as well. He sat beside her, close enough that her  perfume drifted across the space between them. Her signature scent  aroused him instantly.

"Are we still on for Saturday night?" he asked.

The door opened. Jessie shouldered her way in, carrying a tray with  bottled water and glasses of ice. "Cade said I should sit in on your  meeting."

"Great," Scarlet said with a little too much enthusiasm.

Saved by the intern. John could see the thought flash through Scarlet's mind.

And because he wasn't going to take no for an answer, he decided to be creative himself.



John had been right about one thing, Scarlet thought a half hour later  as they left the conference room and headed to her cubicle. She did want  credit for her idea to keep his business at Charisma. Not for the  glory-she was a team player-but she wished her grandfather knew what  she'd come up with. She wanted him to see that she was valuable to the  magazine, not just an Elliott being given a position because of the  family name.

As long as she was being honest with herself, she admitted she wanted  John to know, too, because she needed him to acknowledge her abilities.  It was unlike her to crave approval. What did that say about her? A sign  of a new maturity … or insecurity? She wished Summer was home so they  could talk about it, at least the part about Granddad. But their phone  conversations, frequent but short, never allowed time for deep  discussion, plus Summer was living a dream. Scarlet didn't want to wake  her with reality yet.

Scarlet knew John was right behind her as they reached her cubicle, but  his footsteps were almost silent. Sneaky. He was sneaky in a lot of  ways. Good ways, interesting ways, like his card with the flowers that  had only his phone number printed on it. Like luring her to the  conference room at the Spring Fling. Like disguising his incredible body  with boring suits. Outwardly he needed some flair to match what he was  inside, which was fascinating.

The orchids he'd sent were still fresh, the vase overflowing with the wondrous blooms. She saw his gaze land on them.

She thumbed through a stack of papers on her desk, pulling out the one she wanted to give him.

"Thanks," he said. He stuffed the sheet into his briefcase. "I'll be in touch as I meet with each client."

He left. Just like that. Without finalizing plans for Saturday night, even though he'd asked her before.

An assortment of possibilities about how she could do him bodily harm  ran through her head. Had he forgotten or was he playing a game with  her? Maybe he was unhappy that they would be working together on the  same project for an indefinite period of time.

Any other man might-

She stopped. Sat down. Set her elbows on her desk and rested her chin in  her hands. John wasn't like any other man. And that was the problem.

She was used to leading a relationship, had thought she was letting him  lead. But the fact of the matter was, he wasn't … leadable.