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Authors: Stephanie Bond
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father murmured, a nostalgic smile on his broad face. "Jack the Attack working for me."
Incredulous, Alex's mouth worked up and down in alarm. He was dismissing her opinion on this critical matter? "Dad, surely
you're not willing to jeopardize our advertising campaign, possibly our entire holiday sales season, simply to hire that has-
been jock?"
He clasped her hand between his two. "Alex, dear, the man is talented, and he has a catchy idea that the rest of the staff
likes."
"They're just humoring you."
"Then I wish you would, too," he said, adopting a heart-melting smile.
"Dad—"
"Alex, do this one thing for me. Work with Jack Stillman to get this campaign off the ground and let's see where it goes."
"But the timing … it's so risky—"
"And sometimes it takes a rebel to shake things up," he said, then looked contrite. "Sweetheart, I'm sorry I raised my voice in
there, but I think you had your mind made up before the man even walked in."
"Dad, if you could have seen him yesterday—"
"And now we know why he looked the way he did, to make a point."
Alex scoffed. "That's impossible—he had no idea I was dropping by. On top of everything else, the man's a pathological
liar."
"I like the boy, and my gut tells me this is the right thing to do, but it won't work unless you get on board."
"Oh, you need me now?" She hated the hurt she couldn't seem to keep out of her voice.
His smile was indulgent. "Of course, sweetheart. I won't offer Stillman the contract unless you agree to monitor the
campaign."
A warm, fuzzy feeling lodged beneath her heart, and she smiled in spite of their disagreement. How she loved this man—her
mentor, her hero. She couldn't dispute the fact that his business judgment was usually sound, although she had an ominous
feeling about this particular decision.
"In fact—" he winked "—taking on this kind of project will prove what a team player you are, my dear."
The vice presidency—was he dangling his endorsement in front of her? Alex sank her teeth into her lower lip.
"What do you say?" he asked, squeezing her hand. "Help me keep my promise to Jack's father. I have a feeling their business
could use a life preserver."
"More like a crash cart," she observed dryly.
"So you'll do it? For me?"
The last vestiges of her anger dissolved and she nodded, amenable to a compromise. "But only for two weeks. If the focus
group doesn't like what Jack Stillman comes up with, then we cut ties with him and interview the St. Louis firm."
Her father beamed. "That's my girl." With his hand on her waist, he steered her back in the direction of the boardroom. Alex
felt buoyed, willing to accept full credit for his good cheer.
Resigned to the unpalatable task before her, Alex inhaled deeply and followed him back into the room, aware of the anxious
glances from the table. Al walked up to stand beside Jack, pulling Alex close to him on the other side. Behind her father's
shoulders, she caught Jack Stillman's mocking gaze and wondered how she'd keep from socking him over the next fourteen
days.
"I'm happy to report," her father said, his eyes shining, "that Alex and I have reached a compromise to give Mr. Stillman the
opportunity to impress us, and I'm sure that, just like on the football field, Jack won't let us down."
Jack inclined his head to acknowledge the smattering of polite applause. "I'll do my best, sir."
Two weeks, Alex told herself, forcing a smile to her lips. She could walk on hot coals for two weeks if she had to. And it
wasn't like they'd have to be together every minute—after all, Jack wouldn't be involved in every aspect of the project. He
would simply hand off his ideas to the photographer and the producer of the commercials, for instance. She could take it from
there. Yes … things weren't so bad.
"In fact," her father continued, his face animated. "I just had an inspiration! Who needs to look for a male model when we
have Jack the Attack?"
Alex's stomach
Incredulous, Alex's mouth worked up and down in alarm. He was dismissing her opinion on this critical matter? "Dad, surely
you're not willing to jeopardize our advertising campaign, possibly our entire holiday sales season, simply to hire that has-
been jock?"
He clasped her hand between his two. "Alex, dear, the man is talented, and he has a catchy idea that the rest of the staff
likes."
"They're just humoring you."
"Then I wish you would, too," he said, adopting a heart-melting smile.
"Dad—"
"Alex, do this one thing for me. Work with Jack Stillman to get this campaign off the ground and let's see where it goes."
"But the timing … it's so risky—"
"And sometimes it takes a rebel to shake things up," he said, then looked contrite. "Sweetheart, I'm sorry I raised my voice in
there, but I think you had your mind made up before the man even walked in."
"Dad, if you could have seen him yesterday—"
"And now we know why he looked the way he did, to make a point."
Alex scoffed. "That's impossible—he had no idea I was dropping by. On top of everything else, the man's a pathological
liar."
"I like the boy, and my gut tells me this is the right thing to do, but it won't work unless you get on board."
"Oh, you need me now?" She hated the hurt she couldn't seem to keep out of her voice.
His smile was indulgent. "Of course, sweetheart. I won't offer Stillman the contract unless you agree to monitor the
campaign."
A warm, fuzzy feeling lodged beneath her heart, and she smiled in spite of their disagreement. How she loved this man—her
mentor, her hero. She couldn't dispute the fact that his business judgment was usually sound, although she had an ominous
feeling about this particular decision.
"In fact—" he winked "—taking on this kind of project will prove what a team player you are, my dear."
The vice presidency—was he dangling his endorsement in front of her? Alex sank her teeth into her lower lip.
"What do you say?" he asked, squeezing her hand. "Help me keep my promise to Jack's father. I have a feeling their business
could use a life preserver."
"More like a crash cart," she observed dryly.
"So you'll do it? For me?"
The last vestiges of her anger dissolved and she nodded, amenable to a compromise. "But only for two weeks. If the focus
group doesn't like what Jack Stillman comes up with, then we cut ties with him and interview the St. Louis firm."
Her father beamed. "That's my girl." With his hand on her waist, he steered her back in the direction of the boardroom. Alex
felt buoyed, willing to accept full credit for his good cheer.
Resigned to the unpalatable task before her, Alex inhaled deeply and followed him back into the room, aware of the anxious
glances from the table. Al walked up to stand beside Jack, pulling Alex close to him on the other side. Behind her father's
shoulders, she caught Jack Stillman's mocking gaze and wondered how she'd keep from socking him over the next fourteen
days.
"I'm happy to report," her father said, his eyes shining, "that Alex and I have reached a compromise to give Mr. Stillman the
opportunity to impress us, and I'm sure that, just like on the football field, Jack won't let us down."
Jack inclined his head to acknowledge the smattering of polite applause. "I'll do my best, sir."
Two weeks, Alex told herself, forcing a smile to her lips. She could walk on hot coals for two weeks if she had to. And it
wasn't like they'd have to be together every minute—after all, Jack wouldn't be involved in every aspect of the project. He
would simply hand off his ideas to the photographer and the producer of the commercials, for instance. She could take it from
there. Yes … things weren't so bad.
"In fact," her father continued, his face animated. "I just had an inspiration! Who needs to look for a male model when we
have Jack the Attack?"
Alex's stomach
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