Campaign for Love (9 page)

 

 

The pleasantries over, they gave their orders to the hovering
waiter.
While they were ordering, Suzanna studied Jarvis. He was about
Quentin's age, tall, lean and suave with dark brown hair brushed
straight back from a high forehead. His brown eyes were dark and
intense, and his jaw had a stubborn thrust. A warm smile and ready
laugh saved his otherwise forbidding appearance.

 

 

"I, for one, can't wait any longer to hear about the campaign you've
mapped out for Quik-Bix. Tell us about it, please," said Cyrus as
soon
as the waiter had gone.

 

 

"I'll be glad to. Mr. Pierce has our art department's layouts, which
he'll show you when the table is cleared after lunch. For now, the
basic idea is a six-month series, the basic theme being "On the Q.T.
Which is a play on QB for Quik-Bix. They'll never know you didn't
make
it from scratch."

 

 

"Very clever."

 

 

"We're starting with Monkey Bread. It can be made in a tube pan or
just
a coffee tin, greased. The only ingredients are your Quik-Bix and
melted margarine, slightly cooled. Your Quik-Bix are dipped
individually in the margarine or butter, then layered on top of each
other, slightly overlapping.

 

 

"After they're baked, they're unmolded and the buttered biscuits can
be
pulled off and eaten one by one as a monkey would. Variations are
great, too, like a sprinkling of white or brown sugar, or putting
cinnamon and nuts between the layers."

 

 

"That sounds fantastic," enthused Cyrus Reed.

 

 

"Dumplings are even easier. You simply lay your Quik-Bix on a cooked
stew or fricassee, cook them uncovered for about ten minutes, then
covered for another ten. They're lighter and more uniform in size
than
home-made. And since they're light, people eat more of them, which
won't hurt your sales," said Suzanna with a grin.

 

 

"That's what we're aiming for, to sell more of them," said Barry.

 

 

"Another popular recipe calls for Quik-Bix, a deep fat fryer, and a
brown bag with cinnamon and sugar. After frying the 'doughnuts' you
simply shake them in the bag with the sugar and cinnamon for the
tastiest, tender doughnuts you've ever eaten.

 

 

"If you want to be real fancy, you can roll them out slightly, put a
teaspoon of thick preserves off center, fold it over, moisten the
edges
to seal it, then proceed as before."

 

 

Cyrus smiled. "Those recipes sound so delicious and so easy. I'll
have
to tell my wife about them."

 

 

"There are more," said Suzanna. "Most of them just as easy, but
you'll
find them all in the layouts. Sticky-buns, assorted sweet rolls and
salt sticks, to mention a few."

 

 

"You're a real prize, if I may say so, Ms. Sills," said Barry
Jarvis.
He leaned in closer and proposed a toast.

 

 

"Here's to booming sales in no time, and some of those great
sounding
doughnuts as soon as we can get our test kitchen to work."

 

 

He and Suzanna seemed to hit it off immediately, which should have
made
Quentin happy. That was not, however, the impression he gave Suzy
throughout the rest of the lunch, going more and more quiet
throughout
the afternoon the more Barry tried to draw her out, and became more
chatty himself.

 

 

The spreads were a huge hit, as she knew they would be. So why
didn't
Quentin look more pleased?

 

 

Finally, having concluded their lunch and their business, they said
their goodbyes. As they rose to leave, Cyrus Reed exacted a promise
from Suzy to visit their test kitchen with Quentin at their first
opportunity.

 

 

Suzanna and Quentin taxied back to the office not quite an hour
later
than usual. Suzanna had a feeling of elation over the kudos she'd
earned.

 

 

This is definitely where it's at for me, she exulted inwardly.

 

 

After saying "See you later," to a rather surly looking Quentin, she
got right on her next surge of ideas.

 

 

Back in her office, Suzanna got onto her computer right away and
started to map out a campaign for another of Imperial Foods'
products,
'Spudz' an instant mashed potato that Suzy used in lots of
unexpected
but delicious ways. She was sure they would also be a pleasant
surprise
to the Imperial Foods clients.

 

 

Off and on she could hear the sound of Quentin's voice giving
instructions to Sharon, or talking on the phone. She would have
liked
to discuss some of her ideas with him, but he sounded too busy, and
after all, he had not been in the best mood after the lunch. In
fact,
he had been most curt in the taxi.

 

 

After what seemed only minutes, she heard Sharon call, "Goodnight,
Mr.
Pierce. Goodnight, Suzanna."

 

 

She glanced at her watch and saw it was already five o'clock. She
called, "Goodnight, Sharon," and started to get her desk back into
some
sort of order.

 

 

Something made her look up. There was Quentin, watching her from the
doorway with a bemused expression.

 

 

"Oh, hi, Quentin. Anything I can do for you?" Suzy asked.

 

 

"Uh, no, not really, unless you have some ideas on Spudz you'd like
to
bounce off me."

 

 

"As a matter of fact, I think I have some terrific ones. I was
sitting
here wishing I could do just that, but you sounded so busy.''

 

 

"Never too busy for my star," he said with a shake of his head as he
walked in and sat down in what Suzy was beginning to think of as
'his'
chair.

 

 

"I thought about a few ways that I use the Imperial food products."
She
put the recipes she had written out from memory in front of him.

 

 

He flicked through them and gave an approving nod. "Mmm, my mouth is
watering already."

 

 

"Do you think they would go for it? They're not too exotic, are
they?"

 

 

Quentin considered them carefully for several minutes and then
glanced
up. "I think they would be great. But we need to have a trial run.
You
know, give them a taste test before we try them on Cyrus."

 

 

"Trust me. They're good. I use them all the time. The French one is
a
marvelous summertime supper with some crusty French bread. The
German,
Himmel und Erte, means Heaven and Earth. The apple and potato are a
great combo for winter fare, and can be served with a variety of
wursts. The Irish potato cakes are a good mid-morning snack or a tea
time treat."

 

 

"I have a feeling they'll want you to work out standard measurements
for the recipes in their test kitchens with their staff. Do you
think
you could work it out?"

 

 

"Piece of cake," retorted Suzanna.

 

 

"Sure of yourself, aren't you?" he asked as he got to his feet and
started toward her with a look of determination.

 

 

Suzanna looked up apprehensively. Her pupils dilated, her palms went
damp, and her knees weak. She couldn't tell what he had in mind. She
could only hope…. And if he did what she hoped he'd do, how should
she
handle it?

 

 

He swiveled her chair to face him and taking her hands pulled her to
her feet, placing her arms around his waist. Then he took her in his
arms, holding her so close that she was aware of every contour of
his
body.

 

 

"Suzanna," he declared gruffly, "you've said you wouldn't hold me to
my
promise. That's a 'come-on' if I ever heard one. I don't know what's
happening to me, or what you're doing to me, but I can't keep my
mind,
my eyes or my hands off you. You ooze sex from every pore. How, I
don't
know. Yet despite it all, I think you're very innocent. So before
this
thing goes any further between us, I need the truth, Suzanna, Have
you
ever known a man--and I do mean in the Biblical sense?"

 

 

Suzanna lowered her eyes and shook her head in an embarrassed
negative.

 

 

"Look at me, Suzanna," he commanded.

 

 

She did so. Immediately, his lips came down on hers. Her eyes closed
in
ecstasy as she felt his mouth open and his thrusting tongue part her
lips to enter her eager mouth.

 

 

She couldn't control her reaction, nor did she want to. Her own
tongue
started to dart and thrust as avidly as his. Their mouths opened
wider
as if to devour one another. Her hands began caressing his back,
then
slid to his buttocks, where she held him in a desperate clasp as she
pressed her body against his. She felt him grow hard, then pull his
hips away from her as he fought for control.

 

 

With a muffled groan, he released her and gently removed her hands,
holding her at arm's length.

 

 

"Why, Suzanna? Why me? And why now? I feel that I could take you
right
her and right now. That you'd let me. It isn't in you to tease. But
after saving your virginity for how many years, why the sudden
change?
Forgive me, but even though you're no beauty, you try to make
yourself
plainer than you are. Did you think I wouldn't notice?"

 

 

Tears came to her eyes as she nodded her head in affirmation.

 

 

"Yes. I didn't think you'd notice because I didn't think you'd
really
look at me."

 

 

He shook his head. "You underestimate yourself. Here and now, I want
you more than I've ever wanted any woman in all my life. But I
refuse
to take you lightly, as if you were a one-night stand, or anything
that
you've prized so highly."

 

 

Suzanna sniffled. "I wasn't preserving anything, Quentin. It's just
that until now the whole idea of sex frightened and disgusted me.
You're the first man I've ever allowed to get close to me. I've been
seeing one man for years, and he's never even kissed me the way you
have. I wanted to be like my other friends, normal, happy, but I
couldn't."

 

 

"Again, why me?" he asked, stroking her back tenderly. "What's made
me
different?"

 

 

"I don't know. Maybe it was because you were attracted to me when I
looked my worst. You weren't after my body."

 

 

Quentin's eyebrows shot up. "You mean other men were?" He sounded
completely incredulous.

 

 

"All the time. That's really the big reason why I quit all those
other
jobs. You're right, I am a fraud."

 

 

Quentin whistled. "There definitely must be more there than meets
the
eye," he said thoughtfully as he tried to discern her figure under
all
the concealing fabric.

 

 

"But we'll go into that at another time. Right now, I think you'd
better talk. Come on. You sit down on the couch. I'll bring my chair
over. I don't trust myself on the same couch with you. And I trust
you
even less," he said sternly.

 

 

When they were both seated again at a safe distance from one
another,
he asked, "Now tell me, Suzanna, who or what turned a sensual
creature
like you off sex?"

 

 

"This will be difficult," began Suzanna, reclining against the
cushions
and trying to relax. "I've never discussed it. My best friends know
only that there was some unpleasantness in my childhood, but I've
never
before told anyone the whole story."

 

 

"That's probably part of your problem," Quentin said wisely. "If you
had talked it all out, you might have been freed of your problem
years
ago."

 

 

"It's not much of a story. When I was very small, my mother and her
sister, my aunt, went shopping, first putting me to bed for a nap.
They
left my uncle to mind me. When I awoke from my nap, I felt something
strange under my hand. I sat up in bed wondering where I was, then I
looked to see where my hand had been. Asleep next to me on the bed
was
my uncle, completely naked.

 

 

"I had never seen a naked body other than my own before. I was
terrified without even knowing why. I just seemed to know that I
couldn't make a sound and that I'd be all right as long as he stayed
asleep. The bed was against the wall, and he was barring my way on
the
outside. As stealthily as possible I crept toward the foot of the
bed.

 

 

"It was brass, I still remember, and looked as high as a mountain to
me. But I managed to get my leg over it and hanging on with both
hands,
I threw my other leg over, then climbed down on the cross bars. I
stole
out of the room and searched the house for my mother, crying quietly
to
myself. Of course, they hadn't returned. I remember putting my arms
up
on the kitchen table, putting my face against them to stifle my sobs
and willing him not to wake up. He didn't. I was still sobbing when
they came home and asked why I was crying.

 

 

"I just pointed to the bedroom. The last thing I remember is both of
them going in, and nothing more but my mother saying, 'Don't tell
Daddy.'

 

 

"She never mentioned the incident again, and of course I wouldn't
either. Perhaps she thought I'd forget. But I didn't, and because
she
never talked about it I suppose I felt I had somehow been to blame.
I
wasn't much more than two years old."

 

 

"You poor baby!" he exclaimed. "No wonder you were traumatized. He
must
have been a real sicko."

 

 

"Yes, I suppose so, although he couldn't have touched me or I'm sure
I'd have awakened. But he must have put my hand where I found it. I
don't remember ever seeing him again. My aunt divorced him a couple
of
months later."