Best Of Makeovers Bundle Part 61

Marc pressed a finger to her lips, infinitely tender. "I know about the cancer, Anna. I understand. I think I do, anyway."

"I didn't want you to be like my father. I didn't want to die leaving so much behind," she said, tears starting in her eyes.

"It's not going to happen, Anna. We'll make sure you have regular checkups. We'll buy organic, for Pete's sake. We'll do whatever it takes. But we won't do it without each other," he said.

There was a great deal of determination and love in his tone and a serious expression in his eyes. Anna closed hers for a moment, scared to think how much she'd almost lost. If it hadn't been for the Ducati...

"Thank G.o.d for that bike!" she said reverentially.

"Are you kidding me? I'm going to have the thing melted down to nothing, or crushed or whatever they do. Destroyed utterly. I never want to feel like that again in my life."

"But I would never have realized how stupid I was being. I thought I was being sensible. Smart. But when that car was sliding toward me the only thing I could think about was how much I loved you, and how much I was going to miss out on." She reached up a hand to touch his face lovingly. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry for being too scared to believe in a future, for not even trying for a future for us."

"It doesn't matter," he said simply.

Looking into his eyes, she knew he meant it. And that he loved her, body and soul. No matter what their separate intentions, no matter how hard either of them had tried to play the game and keep it to just s.e.x, they'd wound up in the same place.

Marc pressed a kiss to her palm, then held it to his chest.

"I love you, Anna," he said, ducking his head to kiss her.

And even though she was bruised and battered, with a drafty, inadequate hospital gown barely maintaining her dignity, Anna felt the familiar s.h.i.+ft of desire deep inside as their tongues met and their lips caressed each other.

"Mmm," she said against his mouth, and she felt him smile.

"Don't go getting any ideas. You've got a head injury, and we're in an emergency ward," he warned her as she strained closer.

"So? I love you, too, by the way," she said, kissing him again.

This time when they pulled apart there was a faint flush on his cheekbones, and he hooked a finger in the gaping neckline of her gown and snuck a peek at her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

He made a strangled noise, but he stepped away.

"Later," he promised her.

"But-" she objected.

"No buts. We've got forever," he said.

And she realized he was right.

Emily McKay.

Her Wildest Dreams.

CHAPTER ONE.

UNREQUITED love was for silly, foolish girls. Which was just one of the reasons Jane Demeo was fairly certain what she felt for her boss, Reid Forester, wasn't unrequited love.

Unrequited l.u.s.t? Maybe. Unrequited knee-weakening, heart-pounding, gut-churning attraction? Possibly. But definitely not unrequited love. Besides, Jane was neither silly nor foolish. Love? Nope.

Though she'd never quite pinned down exactly what emotion it was she felt for Reid, there was one thing of which she was certain-its unrequitedness.

Reid Forester was the kind of upstanding, well-respected, all around good guy who would never dream of having an affair with an employee.

She, it turned out, was not quite that moral and often dreamed of having an affair with him.

That was, in fact, exactly what she was doing while sitting in her cubicle at work, when Audrey, Reid's a.s.sistant, stuck her head around the corner and handed her a note.

"Wh-wh-what's this?" But by the time she forced out the question, Audrey was long gone.

Jane flipped open the fine linen card stock and read the message inside. "Need to see you ASAP re: the Butler account. ~ R. Forester"

Jane's heart pounded as she read the tight masculine script. Reid needed to see her. Her.

She rolled her chair back to glance into the next cubicle where Teresa, the other member of her team, was putting the final touches on the ad they'd present at ten o'clock.

Why had Reid asked to see only her?

She glanced at the note clutched in her hand. Yep. That was definitely her name on the front. And, yep, that was definitely "ASAP."

Jane b.u.mped her chair back, stood on trembling legs, and made her way down the hall to Reid's corner office. As she was waved into his office by Audrey her heart seemed to throw itself against her rib cage like a wild beast desperate to break free. Maybe it was fear. Maybe antic.i.p.ation. Or maybe just the awareness that she'd never been alone with him before.

He stood with his back to her, staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the view of the Texas Capitol. Hands shoved deep into his pockets stretched the fabric of his white s.h.i.+rt taut across the impressive muscles of his back. From across the room, she felt the tension in his shoulders. Even alone, Reid didn't let down his guard.

Since he couldn't see her enter, she cleared her throat. Still he didn't turn around, but said, "Why don't you close the door behind you, Jane?"

He phrased it like a suggestion, but she recognized it for the order it was. The click of the latch seemed to echo in the silence that stretched between them, and her heart pounded until she was sure he must be able to hear it.

"You're wondering why I asked you here."

She nodded, then realized he couldn't see her. Praying she could keep her blasted stutter under control, she kept her answer short. "Yes."

Please don't say you called me here to fire me.

"Relax. I'm not going to fire you."

"How did-" she started to ask.

"You look ready to faint."

Only then did she realize that he wasn't looking out the window, but at her reflection in the gla.s.s. The floor seemed to tilt out from under her. She sucked in a deep breath, but the extra oxygen only made her feel more light-headed.

Though she could see him clearly in the window, his expression was guarded. Beside his reflection, she saw her own-all straight brown hair and wide eyes. She did indeed look ready to faint.

Suddenly he turned to face her. "I don't want you to be afraid of me."

Sensing he wanted a response, she said simply, "I'm not afraid of you." And for the first time in her life, speaking came easily to her.

His gaze moved over her face as if searching for the lie to her words. "I've tried to stay away."

"Stay away?" Though in her heart, she knew what he meant. He felt it, too. This magnetic pull between them.

He rounded the desk and crossed the room with impatient steps. He cradled her jaw in his palm, his thumb brus.h.i.+ng her cheek. "No matter how I tell myself it's wrong, no matter how I try to stay away, it's no use." His thumb caught on her lower lip, tugging gently against her defenses.

Her breath came in bursts as heat spiraled through her body. The scent of his cologne-something woodsy and rugged-washed over her. She'd never been this close to him before and she had to tilt her head in order to look into his eyes. Eyes of pure green, without a fleck of gold or brown.

She only had to sway to press her body against his, yet somehow she resisted. She wanted this moment to be perfect. To last forever.

Just as Reid started to lower his mouth to hers she stopped him. "Wait."

His gazed clouded over with confusion and desire. "What?"

"You hardly know me," she protested. "You never even speak to me. I didn't think you even knew I existed."

"How could I not know you?" He cradled her face in both hands to gaze deeply into her eyes. "I've tried to ignore you. To ignore this. I haven't spoken to you because I've been afraid of giving in. I know it's wrong, but I can't stay away from you. You make me weak."

Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Her body swayed towards his and she steadied herself by reaching for his arms. His biceps tightened as she wrapped her fingers around the hardened muscles, reminding her of his strength and power.

Yet she made him weak.

The thought sent a surge of feminine satisfaction through her. Why was she resisting this? She wanted him. Had wanted him from the moment she'd first seen him five years ago. And this moment was perfect.

As she tilted her mouth up to his her eyes drifted closed and she waited for his kiss...

"d.a.m.n it, Jane, you haven't fallen asleep, have you?"

Jane's eyes snapped open, a moment of foggy confusion evaporating as the real world shattered her fantasy.

Teresa's critical voice rang in her ears, effectively clearing her vision. She sprang from her office chair and turned to face Teresa, who, despite her diminutive size, managed to loom in the entry of Jane's cubicle.

"I w-w-wasn't-" Her words clogged in her throat, trapped by her desperation to explain. She forced herself to slow down, to draw in a calming breath. "I was just meditat-"

Teresa snorted, too impatient with Jane's verbal stumbling. "Meditate all you want, you know you'll still be a wreck at the presentation. Which, by the way, is in about ten minutes. Don't be late."

Teresa spun on her heel, trotting off towards the conference room, leaving Jane standing dumbfounded, embarra.s.sment burning her cheeks, shame burning in her gut.

d.a.m.n it. Why did her tongue always trip her up? Just once, why couldn't she be ready with a snappy comeback? Why did her stutter always get the best of her?

Well, she wouldn't let Teresa keep the upper hand. Jane grabbed the black folio from her desktop and followed.

When they reached the conference room, she held out the oversized portfolio to Teresa. "My new idea for the ad."

Teresa's gaze flickered dismissively. "What's the point? We're meeting Reid and Matt now to show them our ideas for the Butler Steam Vac account. Even if this brainstorm of yours is better than what we've been working on, we don't have time to rework the pitch."

"We're not pitching to Butler until Friday, that's plenty of time. Besides, w-w-what we've got now is hackneyed. Y-you said so yourself yesterday. Frazzled mom steam-cleaning grape juice out of her carpet? It's been done. This new idea is s-s-"

"Is s.e.xy. Yes, I know. Jane, all your ideas are s.e.xy. But we're pitching an ad for a steam cleaner. I just don't see how that can be s.e.xy."

"Just look at it?"

Teresa sighed, but took the portfolio from Jane. "I'll glance through it."

A few minutes later, while they waited for Reid and Matt Blake, the VP of Creative Development, Jane looked over Teresa's shoulder while she flipped through the sketches Jane had done the night before. Even though she'd mounted them on black paperboard mats, they were primitive. Normally, Pete, from the graphics department, would translate those ideas into a slick PowerPoint presentation. Today, there hadn't been time. Still, she was proud of her work.

This was her creativity-her mojo-at its absolute best. Another Reid-inspired fantasy turned into brilliant ad copy.

She'd had the idea late last night, while she sat on the floor of her living room dressed in her yoga pants and a tank top, sipping red wine out of a tumbler, staring at her empty fireplace, fantasizing. In her mind, she'd worn a flirty little black dress. The wine had been champagne. Flames had flickered in the fireplace. And Reid had been there.

As the fantasy had played out in her mind, she'd grabbed a notepad and started sketching.

A pair of champagne flutes discarded on the fireplace mantel. A faceless couple slow-dancing, their bare feet shuffling across plush carpet. Pan back to a shot of them on the floor, his hands braced on either side of her face as he leans in to kiss her, her knees bent, her thighs cradling him. Her toes curling into the carpet as her hips rock up to meet him. Pan away from the couple, past the champagne flutes to the Butler Steam Vac propped in the corner. Then the tagline, "Because sometimes you want your carpet to be really clean."

Jane held her breath as Teresa studied the last sketch. She thought she might even have heard a soft chuckle escape.

"W-w-well?" She lowered herself to the chair beside Teresa and scooted it up to the conference table.

Teresa narrowed her gaze to nearly a glare. "You know, it's good. You wouldn't have brought it in otherwise."

"But?"

"But...We present in-" she glanced at her watch "-less than five minutes. I'm not going to pull a fully developed pitch for a couple sketches. What we have is solid, too."

What they had had been done a thousand times. "But-"

"No." Teresa snapped the portfolio closed. "Look, Jane, it's my decision to make. When you're heading up your own team, you can make your own decisions. Until then, leave this kind of thing to me."

Jane nearly groaned in frustration. It always came back to that: Teresa's position as team leader.

Not that Jane couldn't be a team leader if she wanted to. Matt had offered to put her in charge of her own team more times than she could count. Lately, she'd been tempted to take him up on his offer. Sure, it was more money and more creative freedom. But it was also more work, more responsibility...and more of facing her gut-wrenching fear of giving presentations.

How could she accept a position as team leader when every time she opened her mouth her fear of stuttering crippled her into mute silence?

The answer was simple. She couldn't.

But she could fight for this idea. Especially since she knew she was right. "Teresa, w-w-we-"