So it was no real surprise that the nightmare started right on schedule. The very first meeting of the month was with Tom of Tom's Country Catering, who wanted a Christmas spot, and it started badly even for a client meeting. Tom wanted to be in the commercial. He wanted to help write the copy. He wanted to dress up like Santa and possibly pose with reindeer. Cassie and Chip were pouring tact over him like maple syrup, trying to persuade him that all that detail work would be undignified for a man of his stature, and he wasn't budging. Bored, I wished that they would tell him the truth about clients' ideas or just resign the account so that I wouldn't have to listen to this argument for the ten millionth time. Besides, the man's size was all the advertising his business really needed anyway.

To be polite, I focused on the client before tuning out for what I hoped would be a nice rest. But then something went wrong with my vision. One minute, a fat man was sitting in the client's chair, and the next, Monica was...fingering the top frog of her gown and giving me her most incendiary smile.

I knew what it meant--and knew even better that this wasn't the time or place. I tried to look away but wound up looking down anyway and then couldn't quite look away again. Literally couldn't--it was like my focus was physically locked.

"You're staring at my tie," Monica purred.

Tie? I blinked...and the client was back in that chair, looking aggrieved. "She's staring at my tie," he told Jack.

Cassie, sitting directly across the table from me, looked up from her market research to study me narrowly. What could I say? Fortunately, Jack thought of something first.

"She's just like a parakeet," he told the client, all charm. "Gets fascinated by bright shiny objects. We have to keep her completely away from Christmas trees so she won't hurt herself."

The client's tie was a bright shiny object--a hideous hot-yellow satin thing--but I resented the parakeet part all to hell. And Jack knew it; he was grinning at me, smug as the devil. I was just about to ask him to step outside when Troy leaped in.

"You know, that color might work really well as the signature color for the campaign," he told the client. "Red and green get done to death at Christmas, and yellow is a good food-related color. What do you think?"

The client didn't know what to think but started talking anyway, and the crisis was over.

"Thanks," I whispered to Troy, who winked in return.

I willed myself to pay attention and not zone out anymore. But the client had one of those half-track minds, so he got right back to the Santa concept. Cassie and Chip went back to work on him, and in self-defense, I went AWOL again.

Monica had a half-track mind in some ways, too. When she materialized again, the first three frogs of her gown were open, and she was wearing the ruby crucifix down where I knew that I couldn't look in public. She began to tug the chain up and down, slowly, so that the cross rode up and down her cleavage, very slowly, up and down, up and...

"Now she's staring at his tie," the client complained.

I found myself focused on Chip, who was trying not to laugh.

"Must be his tie tack," Jack told the client happily.

Cassie gave him a look that could have cut glass. "We don't want to embarrass her by drawing attention to the problem, do we, Jack?" Then, to the client: "Please don't take offense. Dev doesn't always know what she's doing. She was in a car crash a couple of months ago and hit her head."

I resented that, too, but Cassie had just kicked me under the table--a little harder than necessary. By the look in her eye, she wasn't sure what was going on but wasn't taking any chances.

"Oh," the client said, visibly relieved. "Yeah. Sure. I understand now. I had a cousin that happened to once."

"Was he ever right again?" Jack asked innocently. "If you don't mind my asking."

"Oh, sure. After a couple months. Well, maybe more like three."

Jack leaned back, positively sated. "Well, then, there you have it. We'll have her back in time to stuff the Thanksgiving turkey. Isn't that great news, Dev?"

What with one thing and another, the meeting was clearly no longer safe, so I pushed my chair back and stood. "Forgive me for the distractions, Mr. Johnson. My writers can help you on creative for the rest of the meeting. I'm going to lie down for a while."

"You don't want to fool with a head injury," the client agreed.

With as much dignity as possible, and making sure not to let Kurt catch my eye, I left the meeting. A few steps down the hallway, I heard the client say, "Could take longer than three months, really. My cousin spent about that long just watching the shopping channel, day and night."

I decided to really go lie down.

"You'd better be here to give me a report on the Tom's meeting. Then you'd better be gone."

"I'll type up my notes and shoot 'em to you on e-mail, if you want."

"I want. Now go."

"One more thing, boss. Real fast. Got a second?"

I saved the file and leaned back, arms crossed, looking as ominous as possible.

"I was really taken with the way you looked at Chip's tie tack," he said. "There was something almost...sexual about it. Can you show me just one more time how you did it?"

I got up and moved toward him with intent.

"Just in the interest of research. I might use it in an ad."

I kept walking.

"OK," Kurt said quickly, and got out of the room a step ahead of bodily harm.

Jerk. But an overly observant jerk. I'd have to think of something to do about him if Monica was going to be like this for very long.

"Someday, you're going to shock me," I told her.

"Very jaded for a former celibate."

"You may have had a little to do with that." Sighing, I threw my coat and attaché in the nearest chair. She was clearly waiting, and she never took no for an answer, but I couldn't shift gears quite that fast. "Do I have time for a drink?"

Monica pointed to the hearth, where two brandies were warming. Careful not to step on her, I picked up the snifters, handed one down, and started toward the couch.

"You'll be more comfortable here with me," she said. "Please. Get comfortable."

That was all the way out of character, and it threw me for a second. "You're not going to just pounce? Or scratch? Or bite?"

"You don't trust me."

"No."

"Try. Or I will pounce and scratch and bite."

Well, then, what did I have to lose? Carefully, I lay down next to her. She reached over. I braced against pain--and felt only a gentle touch.

My shock must have shown, because she explained herself. "You've had a hard day. Again. You've had a hard year, actually. Six hard years. Have you finally had enough tough love?"

Startled, I laughed. "Tough what?"

"Tough love. You don't seem to be acquainted with any other kind."

"I'm not really acquainted with any kind. But don't you mean tough sex?"

"If you wouldn't fight me, it wouldn't have to be."

"I don't fight you."

"You do mentally. You just think I don't know it." She smoothed my hair. "You can actually be rather sweet when you forget how evil I am."

"Well," I said reluctantly, "you have your moments too."

"Imagine the damage to my reputation if that got out."

"Your reputation? What about mine? I wouldn't last 10 minutes in this town if this got out."

"You wouldn't last 10 minutes at your agency, you mean. Such a vicious place. Such sharp tongues, and so much talk." She continued to stroke my hair. "When you come home at night, I can smell the fear on you for an hour."

"That's not fear. It's Jack's cigars." I grimaced. "Ever since I quit smoking, I can't stand the smell of smoke, even on people's clothes. Can you imagine how I must've smelled? Two packs and a day, and... What?"

She had leaned into me and was sniffing delicately. "Ahhh. Eau de Fear. Really, the Bulgari works better on you, but there's no accounting for..."

"You sound like Cassie sometimes," I grumbled.

"Imagine that. Now, where were we before you changed the subject in such a hurry? Oh, yes. We were talking about all the talk at your office."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Of course not. You've had a long day. You're tired." She kissed my forehead and worked her way down softly, almost lovingly.

Grateful, I pulled her closer. "Like I said, you have your moments."

She paused just over my mouth. "Oh. That's right. I almost forgot. I'm evil." Then, before I could react, she pushed me down and bit.

(c) 1999, ROCFanKat

Continued - Part 14