One
Layla Harper stroked her cat’s silky white fur and
wished she knew when her boss would call. So what if she had blown
up at him and walked out of his office? Jefferson Prescott had
deserved every bit of it and more for treating her like a
weak-minded female. Never mind that the client had liked her vision
for their ad campaign. Jefferson had thought the lacy dresses on
the models were too girly to be used in a cologne ad. Perhaps if he
would have focused on the rest of the image, such as the virile
male model posed between the two fawning young women, he would have
understood the message—that this cologne would make a man
irresistible to gorgeous women. Wasn’t that every man’s dream?
The client certainly thought so, but apparently
Jefferson wasn’t every man. Come to think of it, Layla had never
seen a photo of a girlfriend on his desk or heard him mention a
date even though it was a well-known fact around the office that he
wasn’t married. Could it be he didn’t like the ad campaign because
he didn’t want to attract women?
Layla’s hand stilled and she looked down into the
cat’s bright blue eyes. “He can’t be gay, can he? He’s never shown
an interest in men either, Fluffy. Maybe he’s asexual and just
doesn’t care one way or the other about relationships?”
That kind of apathy would explain his
misunderstanding of the ad she had created. But it didn’t explain
his attentiveness whenever he stopped by her office to discuss a
project or for a brief chat.
Before her musing could go any further, the phone
rang, startling her and Fluffy. The cat launched himself across the
room and disappeared into the hallway. Layla reached over and
grabbed her cell phone from the table beside her. Jefferson’s
number showed on the screen.
She drew in a deep breath and answered. “Layla
Harper.”
“You need to come back to the office,” Jefferson’s
deep voice responded.
“If you just want to yell at me again, I think I’ll
stay home until tomorrow.”
“Layla, please.” His heavy sigh brought a twinge of
guilt. Perhaps she was being more difficult than necessary, but her
irritation ran deep and it was difficult to let it go.
She took a deep breath, reaching for the patience she
knew lay buried somewhere inside. “Look, it’s been a long day and
there’s only half an hour left before the end of business. I can’t
get there in time to get anything productive done.”
“So count it as overtime. I think you owe it to the
company, since you walked out early.”
“Do you remember why I walked out early, Mr.
Chauvinistic?” Layla snapped, her temper rising once more.
“Yes, I stated my opinion of your ad idea and you
took offense at it,” Jefferson returned with just as much heat.
“Now, if you want to have a job tomorrow morning, you’ll get your
behind back here and into my office in twenty minutes or less.”
“Yes, sir.” She hung up before he could reply and
glared at the phone. “Dictating jerk.”
Reluctantly leaving her comfy chair, she stood and
headed for the bedroom. Fluffy lay in the middle of her quilt,
sound asleep as if he hadn’t fled the ringing phone just moments
ago. Layla rolled her eyes and went to her closet. Since she
currently wore her favorite pair of ratty jeans and a form-hugging
tank top, she figured she should change into something a little
more professional before returning to the office.
Then her gaze fell on the glowing green numbers of
her alarm clock. By the time she got there, everyone would be
leaving for the day, except for her and the man forcing her to work
late. She grabbed a pair of sneakers and pulled them on.
“If he wants to ruin my evening because of some
misguided power trip, he can just deal with seeing me in this.”
The only addition she made to her outfit was a
zippered hoodie sporting a flaming skull on the back. The front
bore the name of her cousin’s heavy metal band, Death Fire.
Although she’d managed to keep her
Layla Harper stroked her cat’s silky white fur and
wished she knew when her boss would call. So what if she had blown
up at him and walked out of his office? Jefferson Prescott had
deserved every bit of it and more for treating her like a
weak-minded female. Never mind that the client had liked her vision
for their ad campaign. Jefferson had thought the lacy dresses on
the models were too girly to be used in a cologne ad. Perhaps if he
would have focused on the rest of the image, such as the virile
male model posed between the two fawning young women, he would have
understood the message—that this cologne would make a man
irresistible to gorgeous women. Wasn’t that every man’s dream?
The client certainly thought so, but apparently
Jefferson wasn’t every man. Come to think of it, Layla had never
seen a photo of a girlfriend on his desk or heard him mention a
date even though it was a well-known fact around the office that he
wasn’t married. Could it be he didn’t like the ad campaign because
he didn’t want to attract women?
Layla’s hand stilled and she looked down into the
cat’s bright blue eyes. “He can’t be gay, can he? He’s never shown
an interest in men either, Fluffy. Maybe he’s asexual and just
doesn’t care one way or the other about relationships?”
That kind of apathy would explain his
misunderstanding of the ad she had created. But it didn’t explain
his attentiveness whenever he stopped by her office to discuss a
project or for a brief chat.
Before her musing could go any further, the phone
rang, startling her and Fluffy. The cat launched himself across the
room and disappeared into the hallway. Layla reached over and
grabbed her cell phone from the table beside her. Jefferson’s
number showed on the screen.
She drew in a deep breath and answered. “Layla
Harper.”
“You need to come back to the office,” Jefferson’s
deep voice responded.
“If you just want to yell at me again, I think I’ll
stay home until tomorrow.”
“Layla, please.” His heavy sigh brought a twinge of
guilt. Perhaps she was being more difficult than necessary, but her
irritation ran deep and it was difficult to let it go.
She took a deep breath, reaching for the patience she
knew lay buried somewhere inside. “Look, it’s been a long day and
there’s only half an hour left before the end of business. I can’t
get there in time to get anything productive done.”
“So count it as overtime. I think you owe it to the
company, since you walked out early.”
“Do you remember why I walked out early, Mr.
Chauvinistic?” Layla snapped, her temper rising once more.
“Yes, I stated my opinion of your ad idea and you
took offense at it,” Jefferson returned with just as much heat.
“Now, if you want to have a job tomorrow morning, you’ll get your
behind back here and into my office in twenty minutes or less.”
“Yes, sir.” She hung up before he could reply and
glared at the phone. “Dictating jerk.”
Reluctantly leaving her comfy chair, she stood and
headed for the bedroom. Fluffy lay in the middle of her quilt,
sound asleep as if he hadn’t fled the ringing phone just moments
ago. Layla rolled her eyes and went to her closet. Since she
currently wore her favorite pair of ratty jeans and a form-hugging
tank top, she figured she should change into something a little
more professional before returning to the office.
Then her gaze fell on the glowing green numbers of
her alarm clock. By the time she got there, everyone would be
leaving for the day, except for her and the man forcing her to work
late. She grabbed a pair of sneakers and pulled them on.
“If he wants to ruin my evening because of some
misguided power trip, he can just deal with seeing me in this.”
The only addition she made to her outfit was a
zippered hoodie sporting a flaming skull on the back. The front
bore the name of her cousin’s heavy metal band, Death Fire.
Although she’d managed to keep her
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