radio spots. But the media advertising for this particular campaign was tied together, which meant that the ad agency was responsible for newspaper, radio and television material.
"When I talked to Maxwell last week," Leah continued, "he hinted that someone in his office was trying to play politics, but at the time, he didn't seem to think it would affect us."
"It won't affect us," Mr. Gregory said, his features tight and hard. "I won't let it. No one plays games with Universal. If they can't straighten out their act, we'll pull the whole thing."
"The whole project?" Leah asked, frowning. "But that means it would be well into next year before we got it put together,"
"They won't let us pull it," he said confidently. He pulled the car off the freeway and parked in front of a small restaurant. "I want you on this as soon as we get back to the office." As he stepped from the car, he was still talking, and Leah had to scramble out to catch his words. "Drop a few hints that Mr. Gregory thinks maybe he's given them too much leeway and just might start making suggestions."
She chuckled softly. He was right. They wouldn't have to pull the project. There was nothing an advertising man liked less than a client who tried to do his job for him.
For the next half hour they ate in silence. She could almost see his mind speeding through the problem, finding alternatives, testing and discarding ideas.
He met her gaze. "I think you'd better look over the campaign they did for us two years ago."
Leah remembered the campaign well. Although she hadn't been closely involved in the project, she had followed every step, absorbing it all so that when she had her chance she would be aware of the pitfalls.
"It was good stuff," he continued. "Study all the old copy and make notes. There was something there that's missing in this new material."
Leah nodded. That meant she would have to take the material home with her. She had three meetings scheduled for this afternoon—meetings she couldn't possibly put off.
A small frown tugged at her lips as she suddenly wondered if he knew how often she took work home with her. And if he knew, did he care?
She glanced up at his thoughtful, distant face. Do you see me, Mr. Gregory? Do you really know who's sitting across the table from you?
It annoyed her that she had even allowed the thought to develop. It shouldn't matter whether he saw her or not. But somehow, it did. It mattered very much.
She had never worked as closely with him as she had in the last two months. Now they stayed late at the office together. They shared meals. Breakfast, lunch, dinner—whatever was going at the time. On some
days she spent more time with him in his office than she did in her own.
And never once had he even hinted that he saw her as an individual. As a woman.
Aha! she thought with derision. Now we're getting to the heart of the matter. She wanted him to see her as a woman.
Admit it, Leah, she goaded herself silently. You're annoyed because the man hasn't made a pass at you. You don't care if he doesn't see you as an individual. But your feminine ego demands that he see you as a woman. And that, may I say, is totally unworthy of you.
She tried to tell herself that she was relieved that he didn't notice her femininity. And logically, she knew she wouldn't even be thinking along these lines if the dreams hadn't made her take a closer look at him. They had forced her to accept him as a human being as well as her boss. She had begun to see that Paul Gregory wasn't the one-dimensional, characterless creature she had wanted him to be. He might not be the man in her dreams, but now she knew he was very definitely a man.
A man who didn't find her particularly attractive, she added silently. Even if it wasn't logical, even if it wasn't worthy of her, that fact bothered her more than she cared to think about.
Leah's smile was slightly acid. She would be in a terrible predicament if he ever decided to press for a more
"When I talked to Maxwell last week," Leah continued, "he hinted that someone in his office was trying to play politics, but at the time, he didn't seem to think it would affect us."
"It won't affect us," Mr. Gregory said, his features tight and hard. "I won't let it. No one plays games with Universal. If they can't straighten out their act, we'll pull the whole thing."
"The whole project?" Leah asked, frowning. "But that means it would be well into next year before we got it put together,"
"They won't let us pull it," he said confidently. He pulled the car off the freeway and parked in front of a small restaurant. "I want you on this as soon as we get back to the office." As he stepped from the car, he was still talking, and Leah had to scramble out to catch his words. "Drop a few hints that Mr. Gregory thinks maybe he's given them too much leeway and just might start making suggestions."
She chuckled softly. He was right. They wouldn't have to pull the project. There was nothing an advertising man liked less than a client who tried to do his job for him.
For the next half hour they ate in silence. She could almost see his mind speeding through the problem, finding alternatives, testing and discarding ideas.
He met her gaze. "I think you'd better look over the campaign they did for us two years ago."
Leah remembered the campaign well. Although she hadn't been closely involved in the project, she had followed every step, absorbing it all so that when she had her chance she would be aware of the pitfalls.
"It was good stuff," he continued. "Study all the old copy and make notes. There was something there that's missing in this new material."
Leah nodded. That meant she would have to take the material home with her. She had three meetings scheduled for this afternoon—meetings she couldn't possibly put off.
A small frown tugged at her lips as she suddenly wondered if he knew how often she took work home with her. And if he knew, did he care?
She glanced up at his thoughtful, distant face. Do you see me, Mr. Gregory? Do you really know who's sitting across the table from you?
It annoyed her that she had even allowed the thought to develop. It shouldn't matter whether he saw her or not. But somehow, it did. It mattered very much.
She had never worked as closely with him as she had in the last two months. Now they stayed late at the office together. They shared meals. Breakfast, lunch, dinner—whatever was going at the time. On some
days she spent more time with him in his office than she did in her own.
And never once had he even hinted that he saw her as an individual. As a woman.
Aha! she thought with derision. Now we're getting to the heart of the matter. She wanted him to see her as a woman.
Admit it, Leah, she goaded herself silently. You're annoyed because the man hasn't made a pass at you. You don't care if he doesn't see you as an individual. But your feminine ego demands that he see you as a woman. And that, may I say, is totally unworthy of you.
She tried to tell herself that she was relieved that he didn't notice her femininity. And logically, she knew she wouldn't even be thinking along these lines if the dreams hadn't made her take a closer look at him. They had forced her to accept him as a human being as well as her boss. She had begun to see that Paul Gregory wasn't the one-dimensional, characterless creature she had wanted him to be. He might not be the man in her dreams, but now she knew he was very definitely a man.
A man who didn't find her particularly attractive, she added silently. Even if it wasn't logical, even if it wasn't worthy of her, that fact bothered her more than she cared to think about.
Leah's smile was slightly acid. She would be in a terrible predicament if he ever decided to press for a more
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