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Authors: Leanne Banks
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some of the clutter.”
“How do you think your mother would feel about that?”
“It’s possible she wouldn’t even notice.”
Elle snorted, then tried to cough to cover it. “I don’t think so.”
“Well, start with one room downstairs. Take it over and redo it the way you want. Put the old stuff in storage.”
Elle felt a trickle of excitement. “This might work.”
“Of course it will work,” he said. “It was my suggestion.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re so arrogant.”
“That never stopped you before,” he said.
She sucked in a quick breath. “No,” she whispered. “It didn’t.”
“What do your want for dinner tonight?”
What she wanted more than anything was a quiet dinner in Brock’s apartment at the office. But she knew that wasn’t possible. He wouldn’t let her near the office yet. She felt a deep sense of loss. They’d shared so many private memories there. “I’d like some good old American cooking tonight,” she said, thinking of one of the few places they’d actually gone to together—a diner with a delicious defiance against the carb-hating trend of the day.
“Mashed potatoes,” he said, and she heard the smile in his voice. “The Four Square Diner. Don’t spend too much time at the outlets. I’ll call later to firm up a time,” he said and hung up.
Elle glanced at the sexy leopard-printed sheath hangingon the end of the rack. She wondered if she would ever be able to inspire Brock’s primal urges again.
After a jam-packed day, Brock stood to greet Elle at The Four Square Diner. He studied her face. “You overdid it today,” he said. “You’re tired.”
She brushed her lips against his cheek. “Thank you. You look gorgeous, too,” she said and sat down.
He couldn’t keep his lips from twitching. “You’re supposed to stay rested.”
She picked up the menu from the table. “There’s a difference between rested and going into a coma. How was your afternoon?”
“Good. The campaign for the Prentice account is going smoothly,” he said.
“Great. How do you like your new assistant?”
“He isn’t you,” Brock said.
She nearly dropped her menu. “You have a male assistant?” she asked, surprised.
“Careful,” Brock said. “You’re edging toward sexist.”
“The whole advertising business is sexist,” she said dismissively. “I wasn’t aware you’d ever had a male assistant.”
“I haven’t,” Brock said. “But this one is competent.”
“It might also negate any criticisms about your marriage to me,” she said. “Good strategy.”
Brock met her gaze, giving nothing away. The waitress arrived and took their order. After she left, Brock returned his attention to Elle. “What did you buy today?”
“Odds and ends,” she said, wondering how muchof an embarrassment he considered her to be. She’d often thought her grandfather had considered her an embarrassment until he’d found a use for her.
“What odds? What ends?” he asked. “Just tell me you bought a new robe that you won’t trip over.”
She smiled. “Yes, I did, along with a few other things. Do you have plans for this weekend?”
Brock shrugged. “The usual,” he said. “Work.”
She nodded. “There’s always that.”
She noticed him lift his hand to a man across the room. She recognized the man as one of Brock’s executives, Logan Emerson. The man nodded at Brock, glanced at her, then looked away. She’d always had an odd feeling about Logan. Brock hadn’t discussed his hiring with her and she’d always wondered at Brock’s motivation for bringing him into such a high-profile position at Maddox. Logan had never seemed to fit in.
“How’s he doing with the other account reps now?” she asked.
“Fine,” Brock said. “I’ve altered his duties a bit in the last few days. I think that will work out better.”
“Oh, really?” she asked. “What will he be doing?”
“I’ve assigned him to work more closely with personnel
“How do you think your mother would feel about that?”
“It’s possible she wouldn’t even notice.”
Elle snorted, then tried to cough to cover it. “I don’t think so.”
“Well, start with one room downstairs. Take it over and redo it the way you want. Put the old stuff in storage.”
Elle felt a trickle of excitement. “This might work.”
“Of course it will work,” he said. “It was my suggestion.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re so arrogant.”
“That never stopped you before,” he said.
She sucked in a quick breath. “No,” she whispered. “It didn’t.”
“What do your want for dinner tonight?”
What she wanted more than anything was a quiet dinner in Brock’s apartment at the office. But she knew that wasn’t possible. He wouldn’t let her near the office yet. She felt a deep sense of loss. They’d shared so many private memories there. “I’d like some good old American cooking tonight,” she said, thinking of one of the few places they’d actually gone to together—a diner with a delicious defiance against the carb-hating trend of the day.
“Mashed potatoes,” he said, and she heard the smile in his voice. “The Four Square Diner. Don’t spend too much time at the outlets. I’ll call later to firm up a time,” he said and hung up.
Elle glanced at the sexy leopard-printed sheath hangingon the end of the rack. She wondered if she would ever be able to inspire Brock’s primal urges again.
After a jam-packed day, Brock stood to greet Elle at The Four Square Diner. He studied her face. “You overdid it today,” he said. “You’re tired.”
She brushed her lips against his cheek. “Thank you. You look gorgeous, too,” she said and sat down.
He couldn’t keep his lips from twitching. “You’re supposed to stay rested.”
She picked up the menu from the table. “There’s a difference between rested and going into a coma. How was your afternoon?”
“Good. The campaign for the Prentice account is going smoothly,” he said.
“Great. How do you like your new assistant?”
“He isn’t you,” Brock said.
She nearly dropped her menu. “You have a male assistant?” she asked, surprised.
“Careful,” Brock said. “You’re edging toward sexist.”
“The whole advertising business is sexist,” she said dismissively. “I wasn’t aware you’d ever had a male assistant.”
“I haven’t,” Brock said. “But this one is competent.”
“It might also negate any criticisms about your marriage to me,” she said. “Good strategy.”
Brock met her gaze, giving nothing away. The waitress arrived and took their order. After she left, Brock returned his attention to Elle. “What did you buy today?”
“Odds and ends,” she said, wondering how muchof an embarrassment he considered her to be. She’d often thought her grandfather had considered her an embarrassment until he’d found a use for her.
“What odds? What ends?” he asked. “Just tell me you bought a new robe that you won’t trip over.”
She smiled. “Yes, I did, along with a few other things. Do you have plans for this weekend?”
Brock shrugged. “The usual,” he said. “Work.”
She nodded. “There’s always that.”
She noticed him lift his hand to a man across the room. She recognized the man as one of Brock’s executives, Logan Emerson. The man nodded at Brock, glanced at her, then looked away. She’d always had an odd feeling about Logan. Brock hadn’t discussed his hiring with her and she’d always wondered at Brock’s motivation for bringing him into such a high-profile position at Maddox. Logan had never seemed to fit in.
“How’s he doing with the other account reps now?” she asked.
“Fine,” Brock said. “I’ve altered his duties a bit in the last few days. I think that will work out better.”
“Oh, really?” she asked. “What will he be doing?”
“I’ve assigned him to work more closely with personnel
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