“Do you really think women like me sit around and watch anorexic supermodels strut around on the catwalk?” With her hand on her hip, she reminded him of his sister, the other spitfire in his life with attitude to spare. “Or do you think it’s more likely men like you who watch that crap? Men, need I remind you, who don’t actually buy lingerie anyway. Check the research.” She tossed one of her binders at him. He caught it easily and pushed it to the side.
“I don’t need to look at the data.” He combed a hand through his hair. She must really think he was a sex-crazed idiot. He wanted to point out that the “Be a Vixen” angle was his idea in the first place, and he wasn’t a moron. He certainly didn’t become a partner at PBA by being a completely useless jackass. But then again, why would she think any differently? He was constantly trying to get under her skirt. Not to mention the fact they hadn’t managed to come up with anything constructive or usable in the last few weeks. Hell of a way to start his new job. “I remember. Men’s lingerie purchases are minimal and seasonally driven. We need to attract loyal, repeat customers,” he recited dutifully, raising his palms in a gesture of surrender.
“Good. I’m glad to see you were paying attention.” She gave him a curt nod and replaced her glasses. “Just keep in mind this has to be subtle. We’ll need a robust digital campaign, something that will go viral.”
Cole laughed and shook his head in disbelief. He wasn’t sure how it had happened, but suddenly he was taking orders from her? And he kind of liked it. She knew what she was doing in the boardroom and the bedroom. She deserved to take the reins on the Vixen account.
Hell, she deserved to be a partner.
Chapter Seventeen
Exhausted, Olivia crossed her arms on the desk blotter and buried her face. The hours they were pulling for Vixen were taking their toll and she needed a good night’s sleep. Preferably one that wasn’t filled with lustful dreams of Cole.
“Time for an afternoon pick me up,” Chloe sang, barging in without so much as pausing to knock. Already full of energy, she bounced across the room and placed a cup of Starbucks’ Espresso Roast on the desk.
Olivia perked up, happy to indulge in a caffeine fix with her best friend. “Have I told you lately that I love you?”
“Not today, but you can do me one better.” Chloe smirked, balancing on the edge of the chair across from Olivia’s desk.
“Hmmm?” Sipping from the paper cup, she closed her eyes as the scalding liquid burned a path to her belly, warming her from the inside out.
“You still haven’t told me if you’re going to see Alex again. Spill! Right now or I’m taking my coffee back.”
Olivia’s grip tightened protectively around the paper cup. “You are not getting this coffee back. Not even over my cold, dead body. And, no, I am not planning to see Alex again.”
Shame ripped through her. She’d called Alex Sunday night and given him the old “it’s not you, it’s me” speech. He was a great guy, but there would never be anything between them. Much as she hated to admit it, he just wasn’t Cole. Not that Chloe would understand, since as far as she knew, things with Cole were one and done. Thankfully, a knock at the door killed any further discussion of Alex. Her jaw dropped at the sight of an outrageously large bouquet of long-stemmed roses and white calla lilies…on stilettos.
“These just arrived for you.” Gabby peeked around the blossoms and stepped forward slowly, being careful not to spill any water on the carpet. “Should I just put them on your desk?”
“Holy crap!” Chloe blurted out, her gaze flying to the mammoth arrangement that nearly toppled Gabby.
“Uh, sure. The desk is fine.” Olivia sprang to her feet and came around to help. When they got the flowers settled on the desk, leaving zero work space, she thanked Gabby and turned her attention to the sweet-smelling new addition. She took a deep breath, inhaling the intoxicating scent of summer.
With oversized blossoms and crisp, vibrant colors, they were easily the most beautiful and extravagant flowers she had ever received—not that she was exactly accustomed to floral deliveries at the office. Or anywhere else, for that matter. And calla lilies just so happened to be her favorite flower. It was an incredibly sweet gesture, but who could have sent them? Clients didn’t send gifts like this, no matter how much they appreciated her work. She tore the card from the bouquet and read it silently.
For a real Vixen.
Cole.
Desire stirred low in her belly, roaring to life at the very thought of his touch. She could resist his perfect smile, his cut abs, his sinful tongue. She could even handle his cocky I-can-make-you-come-whenever-I-want attitude. But this? What was this? Naked friends—correction, ex-naked friends—didn’t send flowers to each other, did they? Maybe they did and she’d missed the memo. She had been out of action for a while.
“So, am I supposed to guess or are you going to tell me who they’re from?” Chloe asked. She was trying hard to appear casual, but the mystery was obviously killing her.