Songbird (28 page)

The elevator touched down again and a handful of people in party dress spewed out. “Well?” he asked, gesturing toward the waiting lift.

Life is not a spectator sport, Kelli thought. This was the most interesting, attractive man she’d met in years. A smile lit her face. “Sure,” she said. “Why not?” And she stepped lightly into the empty elevator in front of him.

He punched the button for the top floor. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.” They began to ascend, and he leaned against the side wall and smiled at her for the first time. He looked even more handsome when he smiled. Disarmingly so.

“
What’s your name?”

“
Kelli Ann Harrison.”

“
Kelli Ann. Beautiful name. It suits you.”

She held on to the side rail, her heart beating oddly as his eyes held hers for a long moment. “Thanks. And you are?”

“
Grant Pembroke.”

She was going to say “Pleased to meet you,” but decided that sounded trite, so she settled for a simple “Hi.”

He said hi back, his gaze never leaving her face. Bemused by his intense study, she dragged her eyes away from his, focusing instead on the way his short, black hair curled slightly above the collar of his blue shirt. Expensive-looking shirt. Gorgeous hair. Conservative cut. Probably a desk job. No, something more adventuresome than that. “Are you with the CIA?” she asked.

His eyes widened. “The CIA?”

“
Well, you know, all this cloak-and-dagger stuff. Very suspicious.”

He laughed. It was a low-pitched, pleasant laugh, and she liked the way it sounded in the enclosed space. “This is hardly cloak-and-dagger. More like block and tackle.”

She wanted to ask him more, but the elevator slowed and jerked to a halt. Another bevy of party-goers waited in the hotel hallway as they squeezed out. Grant led the way down the ribbon of red-and-black patterned carpet to a small table where a stocky guard in the hotel uniform sat reading a magazine. Kelli could hear the hum of laughter and conversation through the closed door beside him marked Presidential Suite.

“
My date finally got here,” Grant said, and told the guard Kelli’s name. “Check and see if Lazar put her on the list instead of me.”

The doorman picked up a sheaf of papers from the table and made a slow, meticulous check mark beside her name.

“
This man is with you?” he asked, frowning.

Kelli smiled and nodded. With a shrug, he hauled himself out of his chair and opened the door. Grant’s hand dropped from her shoulder to the small of her back and he accompanied her inside, where a crowd of people in elegant evening dress milled against a backdrop of soft music and drifting cigarette smoke.

Christmas was still three weeks away, but red and green tinsel garlands were strung across a wall of brocade curtains, along with a banner that read Happy Birthday in large, red letters. Tantalizing, spicy aromas wafted toward her from an elaborate hors d’oeuvres table in the center of the room.

Grant drew her away from the door and leaned close to her ear. “Thanks,” he whispered.

His breath was a sweet, moist vapor against skin that seared with unexpected heat.

“
You’re welcome,” she said softly.

He straightened and inclined his head to search through the crowd. His hand still at her back, he said distractedly, “Will you be free later? Because if you are, this won’t take long. Would you like to meet back here in say, about an hour?”

Kelli was seized by an impulse to accept, to say as a matter of fact, I’m free for the evening, and I’d love to meet you anywhere, anytime. But reason intervened. Bob
had
invited her, and he’d show up any minute. “I’m sorry. I can’t. I’m meeting someone.”

Grant turned back to face her, his blue eyes dimmed with apparent regret. “Anyone important?”

“
Possibly my boss.”

“
Possibly
your boss?”

“
He offered me a position with his company. I haven’t accepted it yet.”

“
I see.” He ran a hand through his dark hair and shook his head with a worried frown. “Still, is this going to get you in trouble? Letting me in the way you did? The doorman’s sure to tell him—”

“
Don’t worry about it. I’ll come up with some excuse.”

“
I don’t know. I’d hate to see—”

“
I’ll be fine. Honest.”

He sighed. “Well, then, so be it.” He paused for a couple of heartbeats, looking into her eyes. “Goodbye, Kelli Ann Harrison.” He held out his hand.

She placed her hand in his. As she returned his firm handshake, unsteady pulses began to thump in strange places in her body.

“
Thanks again,” he said.

She had to blink twice to watch him as he turned and wove his way through the crowd. It wasn’t until he’d disappeared from sight that she let out the breath she’d been holding in a long, wistful sigh.

Well. So much for a brush with destiny—the proverbial chance encounter with a mysterious stranger. She had acted spontaneously, lived a bit dangerously, then duty called and poof! She was right back where she started. Normal, everyday existence.

She caught herself. What was wrong with
normal?
Things were shaping up very nicely in her life at the moment, thank you very much. She relished her independence. She wasn’t looking for another entangling relationship; she’d barely recovered from the last one. It was just as well that Grant had walked away.

Kelli wandered idly through the room for several minutes, observing the party-goers, mulling over a few possible explanations to give Bob. A tuxedoed waiter offered her a glass of champagne—one of her favorite beverages—but she declined, wanting to keep her head clear for the meeting to come. Instead, she crossed to the circular buffet table, where a tiered silver centerpiece spilled over with fresh fruit of every color and description. An attractive arrangement of trays below was filled with plump prawns, stuffed mushrooms, puff pastries, and marinated chicken wings. The mingling aromas made her mouth water.

She was about to reach for a plate when a laugh caught her attention. Her eyes shot toward a wide doorway into an adjoining room, where she saw Grant shaking hands with a rotund man in a dark-blue suit. Lazar? she wondered hopefully. A giddy sense of elation swept over her, as if she’d just helped perpetrate an undercover scheme of vast magnitude and importance. He couldn’t have done it without me, she thought—and then realized she didn’t know what it was. Was that fair? Couldn’t he at least have told her what business he was in?

She slipped across the room, through the open doorway. She squeezed between a knot of people and stopped behind a leafy potted palm as tall as the door. I’ll just listen long enough to find out why he’s here, she promised herself, parting the fronds slightly and peering through at Grant’s back a feet away.

“
Don’t be too hard on him, Ted,” Grant was saying.
Ted. So it was Ted Lazar.
“He was just doing his job.”

“
Job, shmob. I’m gonna give him hell.” Ted was a head shorter than Grant, about the same height as herself, a paternal type with a fringe of white hair and a congenial yet commanding air. “Stupid of me to forget, it’s been a hectic day, but he shouldn’t have turned you away without looking for me.”

“
Don’t worry about it,” Grant said. “I managed to get in.” Kelli liked the way his tapered grey suit jacket fit smoothly across the wide expanse of his shoulders and the slope of his back. “I know you’re on a tight deadline so I didn’t want to waste any time. I’ve had my eye on Cassera’s for years, Ted. We’re the people you’re looking for. We can do a hell of a job for you.”

“
Not so fast, Grant.” Ted’s laugh was low and gravelly. “I didn’t promise anything. I just said we’d talk.”

“
If you’re not happy with the people handling you now, I’d think you’d want to do more than just talk.”

“
Maybe.” Ted lifted a cigar to his lips and inhaled deeply, then squinted puffy eyes and blew out a slow column of smoke. “When you called this morning, I agreed to meet you because I’ve seen your work. Damned good. One of the best ad agencies in San Francisco, I’m told, even if you’re not one of the biggest. And your list of clients is impressive.”

Kelli let the palm fronds flip back into place and froze, her heart pounding in sudden comprehension. Grant Pembroke owned an advertising agency. He was here to try to steal the casino account from Bob Dawson!

“
Kelli! There you are.” A hand touched Kelli’s shoulder and she jumped, repressing a startled scream. “I’ve been looking all over for you,” Bob said.

He wore a black suit and striped shirt that looked positively dapper, and his thick shock of silvery-blond hair was carefully combed, not a hair out of place.

“
Sorry I’m so late,” he continued. “I got tied up at the office and couldn’t get away. Then traffic was horrendous—it took me five hours to get here.” He elbowed his way back into the main suite, pulling her with him. “The guard told me you came in with someone. Why didn’t you tell me you wanted to bring a friend?”

“
I...ran into him unexpectedly,” Kellie said.
That was certainly true, wasn’t it?
“He only stayed a few minutes.”

“
Where did he go? You shouldn’t have brought him up here. He wasn’t cleared.” Bob grabbed two champagne glasses from a passing tray and handed one to Kelli. He raised his glass. “To my newest and most attractive creative director. Cheers.” He took a long drink.

I haven’t accepted the job yet,
Kelli wanted to tell him, staring dubiously at her glass. Champagne was for celebrations. Weddings. Christenings. Bon-voyage parties. Romantic evenings for two. Somehow she didn’t feel like celebrating tonight.

“
What do you think about all this?” Bob indicated the crowded room with a nod of his head. “Did you take a look around downstairs? Ever work on an account this size?” He took another drink. “Wait till you meet Lazar. He’s a sweetheart of a guy. Let’s go find him and introduce you.”

Kelli tensed with anxiety. “No, wait.” Grant would no doubt be talking to Ted Lazar for a while. What would Bob say if he discovered
she’d
admitted one of his
competitors
to the party? Somehow she had to keep them apart. “Before I meet him I should know everything that’s going on with the account,” she said, trying to stall for time. “You told me yesterday there’s a big campaign coming up?”

Bob nodded. “
Big
is an understatement. The board decided they’re tired of the old logo and the look we’ve been using on all the collateral materials. They want a brand-new print image for the hotel and casino, everything revamped. And a new campaign to go with it.”

Kelli took a surprised breath. Everything revamped. A hotel and casino this large would use a ton of collateral materials—brochures, menus, coupons, stationery, rate cards—not to mention a whole new ad campaign.

“
The account’s kept us pretty busy for six years,” Bob said, “but we’re talking big bucks now.”

Kelli felt a rush of excitement. She’d never worked on a project of such magnitude. Dawson Advertising must not be on retainer, or Grant wouldn’t be here trying to steal the account away. “Is anyone else bidding on this?”

“
Just one agency, a small fish out of Reno. Routine stuff, to make sure our prices stay in line. Nothing to worry about.”

So, he didn’t know about Grant.
“Why nothing to worry about?”

“
They don’t have a chance in hell of coming up with a workable campaign,” Bob said with a self-indulgent smirk. “I took a little trip to Reno a few weeks ago. I’ve got three of the guy’s top people working for me now—his head account exec, copy chief, and art director. Wasn’t hard to spirit them away. Even dedicated souls will move on if you offer them the right price.” His chuckle stopped when he saw the expression on her face. “Don’t look so shocked. Everyone does it. It’s a cutthroat business. You don’t stay on top by sitting back and twiddling your thumbs. You’ve got to nip trouble in the bud before it starts.”

Bob drained his glass. “Take today, for instance. This hot shot from San Francisco tried to move in on my territory. When Ted told me he called—Ted likes to keep me on my toes, it’s a power trip he plays—hell, this account’s been mine for six years. I’m not going to waste my time on a proposal of this size while he puts it out to bid to every Tom, Dick, and Harry that comes along. And I’m sure as hell not going to let Pembroke Advertising steal it away.”

Kelli’s pulse quickened. “What did you do?”

“
Just told Ted a few things I ‘heard’ about Pembroke.” Bob chuckled. “Spread a few rumors.”

“
What did you say?” Kelli asked, her stomach knotting.

“
Who cares, as long as it works? Fifty bucks says Ted won’t give Grant Pembroke the time of day now.”

Kelli felt sick. She’d been uncomfortable in Bob’s office the day before, and now she knew why. This man’s business tactics turned sleaze into a new art form. How could she even have considered working for him? How could she have considered working for
anyone?

I may not make much money free-lancing, she thought, but at least I have my integrity. She’d only agreed to the interview in a moment of financial despair. Now she realized she’d never wanted the job in the first place. When she got back to Seattle she’d build up her business, make a go of it somehow. And she’d never—no,
never
—work for anyone else again.