Tease

Present company excepted, she wanted to say, but held her fire. She usually kept a pretty good grip on her emotions—Meredith liked to call it a headlock—but anger wouldn’t get her anywhere with him anyway. She needed to stay grounded because this guy was a raging river. He held nothing back, and she didn’t have that luxury. She had to preserve her energy to save the account that he’d put in jeopardy.

“Are you done with the gym?” he asked. “It’s reserved on Friday mornings for murder ball. You and your team are welcome to join us. Carlotta has a mean serve.”

“Murderball?”

He grinned. “Dodgeball where you come from.”

So that’s why he was here. Dodgeball. Not because he couldn’t wait until the evening to meet her. Figured.

“They may want to play,” she said, referring to her team, “but I have some calls to make. Give us a minute to finish up our brainstorming session, and we’ll be out of your way.”

“Take your time.” Suddenly warm and friendly, he worked open the top button of his white dress shirt. “I need to hit the locker room and change first, anyway.”

She mumbled something about seeing him at dinner that night, and then turned back to her team, not surprised to find them riveted. The gym virtually hummed with tension. A corpse would have been sitting up.

“Let’s meet tomorrow morning in the Sandbox,” she told the team, referring to one of the agency’s many themed conference rooms. “I know it’s the weekend, but we have a deadline bearing down on us like a tsunami.”

Andy rose first, picking up his mat. “So, what kind of a campaign is this going to be? Shock and awe?” He grinned, apparently at the possibilities. “I’m sure I could come up with something that would put Faustini management on life support.”

Hmm. Andy may have just handed her the perfect opening. She had no idea whether Gabriel was still behind her, but she hoped so. This was her chance to make an impression on all of them, but most of all, she wanted him to hear it.

“Keep in mind,” she said formally, “that it will be difficult for Faustini to pay their advertising bill if they’re on life support. They are the client, and without them this agency wouldn’t exist. They’ve hired us to do a job. Let’s do it. Let’s give them the campaign heard around the world. But don’t forget that the client has to like it first or no one else will ever see it.”

Tess couldn’t tell whether they were with her or not, but she wasn’t finished. “It’s not us versus Faustini,” she said. “It’s us and them. We’re a team, and they’re part of it.”

Her team gave her a smattering of applause, and she curtsied. Tess waited for Gabriel to say something, and the silence became awkward. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that he’d already left. So much for the crusading speech.

As she knelt to pick up her mat, she had the feeling the murderball game had already started, and there were only two players. This was a one-on-one with Danny Gabriel, and she was the rookie, fighting for a piece of the star player’s turf. And maybe for her career.

Chapter Two

Tess hovered in the narrow stall, trying not to drop her purse, or anything else, into the sleek, low-slung toilet. She’d just finished her business when a man had entered the bathroom and taken the stall right next to hers. Now she was stuck. Or rather her outfit was stuck. Her cotton gauze jumpsuit had been perfect for the Qigong session that morning, but it should have come with assembly instructions for all the hooks, snaps and tabs. Now she was having a slight wardrobe malfunction. She’d ended up with a hook and nothing to attach it to but a snap. And she couldn’t very well leave the stall half-dressed with a dude next door.

The agency’s bathrooms were coed on the theory that new experiences were stimulating and enriching—and Pratt-Summers was known for providing their creative staff with plenty of stimulation. The coffee lounge offered more choices than Starbucks. It also had an oxygen bar, a tea bar and a gourmet snack bar, featuring exotic dark chocolate from around the world that was said to be as potent as prescription mood elevators. Anything to keep the ideas coming.

Tess had worked straight through lunch on the Faustini account, and this was her first break of the afternoon. All she wanted to do was pee and get back to her desk. But it looked like she was going to have to take herself apart like a model airplane and start over.

The adjacent door opened and banged shut.

Tess hesitated, listening. She could hear him washing his hands and chatting with Mitzi, the mysterious washroom attendant, who seemed to be on a first-name basis with everyone at the agency. Apparently she was as much a fixture as the bathroom’s fancy gold faucets. Tess had heard through office scuttlebutt that Mitzi had been with the agency through every management shake-up, of which Tess was just the latest. She not only guarded the bathroom and the adjoining lounge, she ran an aromatherapy concession, did reflexology and was rumored to be a licensed acupuncturist.

Tess gave up on the jumpsuit. Let it flap. She might flash a few people, but her white cotton sports bra wouldn’t give anyone much of a thrill.

She rolled her neck, aware of clicking noises. A massage would be wonderful, except that Mitzi made her nervous. The washroom attendant looked to be in her mid-forties, attractive in a strange way. She had severely cropped hair, an olive complexion and dark, expressive eyes. She was also short-waisted and pear-shaped, with the lowest center of gravity Tess had ever seen, which probably made her a powerhouse masseuse. And to her credit, she kept a beautiful bathroom. There were orchids everywhere, plush rolled towels, pearlescent hand lotions and the place smelled luscious. Today, it was essence of an English rose garden. But on Tess’s first day at the agency, she’d smelled something she couldn’t identify, and Mitzi had explained that she’d been using oil of hemp for a massage.

Hemp? Could Mitzi add drug dealer to her list of specialties?

Tess had given her a wide berth after that, but she seemed to be the only one who was concerned. As far as Tess could tell, Mitzi was widely revered for her advice on everything from health to dating and relationships. She got more respect than the CEO. Right now, she and the unidentified man were discussing his blood pressure and she was recommending that he burn candles during his power nap.

“Lavender, geranium or neroli,” Mitzi suggested. “Lavender is good for dandruff, too. Makes a wonderful tonic for the hair, and if you put the buds in a dream pillow, it will help you sleep. But be careful, you might see ghosts. And, by the way, I have plenty of that ylang-ylang soap you like. You know, the libido-booster bar with just a touch of nutmeg.”

The man’s embarrassed chuckle made Tess wonder if Mitzi had winked at him. Libido booster? Dream pillows and ghosts? No wonder he had hypertension.

Tess had decided to wait until the transaction was over. She couldn’t be sure the man wasn’t Danny Gabriel, and she didn’t want another awkward encounter with him now. Their dinner tonight would be plenty soon enough.

The moment she heard the man leave, Tess let herself out of the stall and went to the long bank of sinks to wash her hands. Mitzi, keeper of the towels, was seated on her stool at the end of the long counter, her many products displayed on wall racks behind her. She watched Tess intently, ready to hand her a towel when she was done.

Tess thanked her and grabbed some paper towels instead. “In a rush,” she said, taking a moment to scrutinize herself in the mirror.

Good girl? Her? What had Gabriel been thinking?

She pulled on a tight curl, trying to get it to relax and dangle in a provocative way. How did she get stuck with yellow bedsprings for hair? She’d always wanted to be one of those fey beauties whose hair went flying every time she gave it a little shake. The kind who gave men whiplash when she strolled by. She sighed. Not in this lifetime.

Still, she hadn’t had that much difficulty attracting men, especially back in college. She’d gone through a wild-child phase when hormones and adrenaline had uncorked inside her like a magnum of champagne. Reserved as she’d been, she’d gotten bold enough to flirt, and that was all the encouragement certain boys had needed. Suddenly, she was wildly popular. Not for any of the right reasons, of course, but the boys’ reactions had taught her that being sexy was about much more than one’s appearance.

Too bad she’d been riddled with guilt the whole time. Being “bad” had only been fleetingly good. Mostly, the experience had left her confused about her sexuality and her urgent need for male attention. And years later, when she’d finally figured it out, the answers hadn’t been pretty.

The bathroom door swung open behind her, and a small pack of women burst into the spacious room, laughing and talking, probably on a break.

Tess thought she recognized them from the Research Division but couldn’t be sure. She’d been introduced around by a Human Resources person, but she’d met too many people that week. It was all a blur.

“Last night was a Rolling Thunderclap,” one of the women said as the three of them entered separate stalls. “It was loud and fast, and there were reports of smoke coming from my ears.”

“Reports? How many people were there?” the second woman asked from her stall.

“Just me and my boyfriend, but he gave me updates on the half second.”

“Sounds more like a Shake, Rattle and Roll to me,” the second woman said. “Were there coital quivers? I’m a Mountain Fountain girl, myself.”

“And I fall somewhere between Napping Kitten and Arctic Silence,” the third said. “Therapy was suggested.”

Mountain Fountain was a Qigong position, but Tess was pretty sure they weren’t discussing martial arts. She moved aside as the women emerged all at once, not unlike synchronized swimmers. They washed their hands, thanked Mitzi for the towels and disappeared into the adjoining lounge.

Tess glanced at Mitzi, who shrugged. “This month’s Cosmo has a Name Your Orgasm quiz,” she explained. “Apparently, orgasms can reveal hidden aspects of your personality. If you’re limited to one kind, it means you’re not expressing yourself fully as a human being.”

“Ah.” Tess nodded. ’Nuff said. She gave her hair another tweak and frowned. A giant sigh escaped her. Limited to one kind? She should be so lucky. What was an orgasm? She couldn’t remember. Most of hers had been pretty forgettable anyway, if she was being honest. No Rolling Thunderclaps. Even all the heavy breathing in college had been only briefly exciting—and definitely not worth the self-recrimination afterward.

Mitzi was watching Tess with a knitted brow and enough concern to send Tess running. She reached for the Faustini bag the designer had given her, along with a pair of their gorgeous new stiletto boots. Each of the team members had received some Faustini launch products as gifts, and to better help them sell the line. Pride of ownership was a prime motivating factor, and old man Faustini, as everyone called the sixty-two-year-old founder of the company, was smart enough to know that.

“Gotta go,” Tess said. “Work to do.” She gave Mitzi a reassuring nod, but it didn’t seem to register. Mitzi’s health-o-meter was engaged.

“Female trouble?” Mitzi said. “Let me guess. PMS, right?”

Tess was too startled not to respond. She was premenstrual beyond belief, bloated and incredibly hormonal. Worse, she’d never been hornier. She glanced down at her body. “Does it show?”

Tess’s period was nearly two weeks late. Probably stress. She definitely wasn’t pregnant, unless this was an immaculate conception. She hadn’t had sex in months, which seemed to be affecting her cycle.

Good for creativity. That’s what she’d been telling herself. Theoretically, pent-up sexual energy could be channeled into other things, like work. In reality, though, she was getting more frustrated, not less, despite the distractions of a new job and a new life. At this rate, her sexual energy would soon be the equivalent of a black hole, sucking up every productive thought she had. Too bad she hadn’t been assigned to come up with an ad campaign for porno flicks.

Mitzi was off the stool and down on her knees, searching through the cabinet beneath the sink. “Maybe some clary sage and juniper-berry tea? It balances hormones, and it’s a powerful diuretic. You’ll pee like a racehorse.”

Tess reached for her purse. “Does it come in bags?” she asked, ready to buy on the spot. What did it cost? Fifty bucks a bag? Sold. Anything that equaled less bloating was gold.

“Aha!” Mitzi beamed as she pulled out a small box of tea bags.

The transaction went quickly, and the price was fair, but it all felt vaguely illegal to Tess. Maybe because Mitzi had literally gone under the counter to get the tea.

“Did I hear a man in here earlier?” Tess made small talk as she waited for Mitzi to process her charge card. “I met lots of people this week, and his voice sounded familiar.”

“Did you meet Danny Gabriel?”

Tess tried not to act startled this time. “Yes. Was it him?”

“No, but that’s who you were thinking it was, am I right?”

“I thought it might be him. Are you supposed to be psychic or something?”

Mitzi wrinkled her nose at the idea. “If the first five senses work, why do you need a sixth? Good eyes and ears is all it takes around here.”

Laughter drifted from the other room, where the women were hanging out. Tess wondered if they were still comparing personal bests or had moved on to something else.

She signed the credit card slip Mitzi pushed toward her and tore off her copy. “Thanks for suggesting this,” she said, picking up the box of tea. “I’m sure it will help.”

Mitzi had her PDA out and was busy making an entry. It was probably how she kept track of sales or inventory. “You’re welcome,” she said, not looking up, “but I think you might need more than tea, dear.”

Tess was already heading for the door. “Thanks, but I have plenty of soap and candles. This will be fine.”

“Tess Wakefield.”

The urgency in Mitzi’s voice made Tess hesitate. She turned to see Mitzi coming after her with a halting gait. Tess wondered if she was much older than she looked, or if she’d been injured somehow.

“Is something wrong?” Tess asked.

Mitzi handed her the credit card. “You forgot this.”

“Oh, thank you.” Tess took hold of the card, but Mitzi didn’t let go of it. Instead, she frowned, her dark eyes boring into Tess’s, as if she was searching for something.

“You don’t know anything about this place, do you?” she said.

“New York?”

“Pratt-Summers.”

“I know it’s one of the best ad agencies in the country.”

A sniff of derision. “And you came here with the highest hopes, thinking this was your big chance. But it could just as easily be your downfall. Not everyone is your friend.”

Tess tugged the credit card free. “What are you talking about?”

Mitzi shrugged, as if to say she’d done all she could. She reached up to pat Tess’s face, and it was all Tess could do not to shrink away.

“Why is it that we always want what we can’t have?” Mitzi asked, lowering her voice. “Use your senses, all five of them.”

Tess wanted to make light of the woman’s intensity, but she couldn’t quite break the spell Mitzi had woven. “I will,” she said.

“He has a secret.”

Tess blinked. “He? Who?”

“Danny Gabriel. You only think you know him.”

“I don’t know him at all.”

“Good, you understand.” Mitzi nodded. “Don’t take the people you work with for granted, especially if they have power over your career. I just don’t want you to be blindsided.” She started back to her stool. “It could happen.”

Tess was becoming exasperated. “Are you going to tell me what you’re talking about?”

Mitzi shook her head. She tsked. “My problem is I talk too much. Ask anyone. Pay no attention to me. You’re busy. Go back to work. You’re a good girl, solid. You’ll do fine.”

Tess had been blown off before, but Mitzi was a maestro. Tess didn’t much appreciate the good-girl remark, either. It was the second time today she’d been called that, and it was making her feel like a virgin being groomed as a sacrifice to the advertising gods.

The gallows humor was meant to loosen the knots in Tess’s stomach, but it didn’t work. Was that why she’d been brought here? To be someone’s scapegoat? To draw fire? Every office had internal politics, and she already knew something about this company’s problems, but Mitzi seemed to be suggesting there was more going on. And Mitzi might actually be in a position to know. Her bathroom was the equivalent of a locker room/spa where people came to hang out and gossip.

Tess debated the wisdom of trying to pry more information out of the washroom attendant. Maybe it was a sign that the three women reappeared from the lounge, saying they wanted to look over Mitzi’s wares. Tess noticed how chatty and personal they were with her. One of them asked her about her acting job. Apparently she had a bit part in an off-off-Broadway play. Another kidded her about her sexy new haircut.

Tess made it a point to say hello to the women before she left, and to thank Mitzi again for the tea. A woman with enemies couldn’t be too careful.

Relief washed over her once she was out the door and heading back to her office. Maybe from now on she’d go to the downstairs bathroom. Better for the hypertension, which she probably had by now.

It was mid-afternoon on a Friday, and the twenty-eighth floor seemed quiet as she traveled hallways that curved and meandered to evoke the tributaries of a river. You could get seasick trying to get around quickly. The walls were covered with murals painted by some of the agency’s artists. One was a whimsical underwater motif with sea creatures who’d been given the faces of various staff members. Tess hadn’t figured out what the deeper meaning might be, but she hadn’t failed to notice that Gabriel was a dolphin. Better than a shark, she supposed.

Tess passed the art and production studio on the way to her corner office, but avoided looking inside. She didn’t want to be tempted. She loved seeing the ideas become reality, and this studio was spectacular, large and magnificently equipped. But she couldn’t dawdle any longer. It felt as if the entire day had slipped away from her, and tonight’s dinner was going to be another time-suck. Worse, she would be spending it with a bunch of people who made her nervous—and apparently had secrets that could blindside her. Great.

“Where is it?” Tess hesitated in her office doorway, talking to herself as she peered at her desk. Her heart jumped painfully. “Where’s my PDA?”

Her personal digital assistant was also her cell phone, but there’d been no place to attach it to her jumpsuit when she went to the Qigong session, so she’d left it on her desk. She’d set it on the lead-crystal box that had been her going-away gift from Renaissance. She specifically remembered doing that.

Tess didn’t have an assistant. She did her own scheduling via the PDA’s digital calendar and memo pad. It contained all her appointments, her address book, even her various passwords. All her vital information was stored on that contraption! She would rather have lost an arm.

She began to search her office, starting with the drawers of her desk, which was a rather strange-looking antique made of rattan and glass that creaked under any kind of weight. Actually, the entire office was strange, although Tess loved the wraparound windows that surrounded her from behind. She wasn’t as crazy about the enormous German Messerschmitt airplane nose coming out of the wall facing her desk. The last occupant had clearly been a World War II nut. There was a glass case of army divisional patches, of which the 101st Airborne Screaming Eagle was her favorite. That was one pissed-off bird. If she could ever remember, she would have to ask why all the paraphernalia had been left behind.

She’d been told she could redecorate on the company’s budget, but there hadn’t been time to think about that. Meanwhile, she wanted to duck every time she looked up and saw the plane. She felt like she was about to be strafed.

“Where the hell?” She lifted a stack of account files and searched through the rattan baskets sitting on the credenza behind her desk. Nothing. The PDA had vanished. Maybe she hadn’t left it on the crystal box?

She noticed her quilted coat hanging on the coatrack and reminded herself to check the pockets. At the same time, she saw the blinking message light on her office phone. She’d missed that completely when she came in.

She picked up the receiver and punched in her voice-mail password. At least she had that one memorized. The disembodied electronic voice told her she had several new messages, and she raced through them until she got to one from Erica Summers. The CEO’s musical voice filled her ear.

“Tess, I just found out that Danny Gabriel can’t make our little dinner tonight. He left a message saying that he’d run into you this morning and was very favorably impressed, so didn’t feel a pressing need to attend tonight. Apparently he’s up against a deadline.” Erica sniffed. “We’ll just have to muddle through without him, won’t we? Looking forward to it, Tess.”

Tess hung up the phone and swore softly. Gabriel had just blown her off, and he’d used the company CEO to do it. The guy had balls. He would be conspicuous by his absence at dinner tonight, an obvious sign to the board that he didn’t consider his new codirector important enough to bother with.

Tess had feared the dinner might not go well, but this was ridiculous. She took a deep breath, willing herself to let it go and get back to work. She still had to find her PDA. There was no time to waste on professional ego trips, and she felt certain that’s what this was. But a half hour later she’d given up on the search—and she was still steaming over Danny’s slight. She couldn’t concentrate on anything but her outrage, which wasn’t like her at all.

The desk gave out a noisy groan as she rose.

So, Danny Gabriel was impressed, was he? She was about to make an even deeper impression on him. It was almost four o’clock by her watch. He shouldn’t have left the building yet, if he truly had so much work to do. She had no idea where his office was, but she would search until she found it.

Chapter Three

Tess clicked down the hall in her high-heel boots, pencil skirt and black velvet Edwardian jacket. It was five-fifteen, and she had forty-five minutes before the limo was scheduled to pick her up for the reception. She’d decided to change into her dinner outfit and let Gabriel get a look at what he’d be missing—and call him on his blatant attempt to undermine her on her big night. You never got a second chance to make a first impression, and this was her chance with the company brass, which he very well knew. She even managed to get the kinks out of her hair with a special spray that relaxed and defrizzed. It had loosened her curls, and now they were bouncing all over her head. Extra-large silver hoop earrings and a kiss-my-ass attitude rounded out the look.

She’d also had two cups of Mitzi’s tea. No one could say Tess Wakefield didn’t live dangerously.

Check it out, Gabe, baby. This is the lady you kicked to the curb. Maybe you should watch your shins. She’s wearing boots.

Tess had never felt so tricked-out and sexy. It was almost fun. She figured it was the PMS or the tea, but either way, she had a few choice words for her codirector. She’d called the agency’s receptionist for directions to his office, which had turned out to be quite simple. He was on the opposite end of the building from her, in his own corner office.

The twenty-eighth floor was now a ghost town. Tess didn’t see another soul as she crossed the building. Everyone had gone for the weekend, but if Gabriel really had a deadline, he might still be around.