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  “Not yet,” she said, looking almost as desperate as he felt. She swallowed nervously. “Where is everyone?”

  “You’re the first.”

  She slid into the room, careful to keep her distance. She put her portfolio on the floor, then on a chair, then on the table, then back on the floor again. By the time she was done, Jason was tempted to take it and toss it through a window.

  “Am I making you nervous?” he asked instead, taking a certain amount of grim satisfaction in the thought.

  “Yes,” she said, perching on the edge of a chair as if she were prepared to run at the first sign of trouble.

  He nodded and took a seat opposite her, training an unflinching gaze on her. If he’d hoped to further disconcert her, however, the attempt failed miserably. She drew in a deep breath and returned his gaze evenly, then said, “Maybe we should talk about it.”

  “Oh, no,” he said softly, a warning note in his voice. “Believe me, I am in no mood to hear anything you have to say unless it has to do with those designs you brought.”

  The silence that fell after that was nerve-racking. After another ten minutes of strained quiet, he jumped to his feet, opened the door and shouted down the hall. “Harriet, what the hell is keeping my grandfather?”

  At his shout Harriet came running, an expression of alarm on her normally passive face. “He just called, sir. He had an emergency, out of the building. He said you should go ahead without him.”

  “Out of the building?” His voice again rose to a level he would never have considered using before Saturday. Just being around this Roberts woman seemed to shatter every bit of self-control he had. He lowered his voice. “What kind of emergency would take him away from here?”

  “I don’t know, sir. He didn’t say.”

  “How about Lansing?”

  “Actually his office called, too. He said you and Ms. Roberts should be able to reach a decision without him.”

  Desperation curled inside him. He did not want to go back into that room with Dana Roberts. He might very well strangle her.

  He reminded himself that he was a civilized, sophisticated man. Surely he could contain his anger long enough to look at her designs objectively, then get her out of here. He would never have to see her again, especially if the designs were awful. The prospect of turning them down cheered him considerably.

  “Shall I reschedule?” Harriet asked.

  “No. As long as Ms. Roberts is here with the designs, we’ll go ahead. Tell my grandfather I want him to join us the minute he gets back.”

  “Of course.”

  When he walked back into the room, wide blue eyes met his. “If this isn’t a good time…” she began.

  “No,” he said impatiently. “Let’s get this over with. Show me what you’ve brought.”

  “But your grandfather…”

  “Isn’t coming.”

  “But he…” Her voice trailed off in confusion. She cast a panicked glance in the direction of the door and looked as if she’d like to make a run for it.

  Jason regarded her oddly. “He what?”

  “Nothing.” With an expression of grim determination in her eyes, she opened her portfolio. She looked at the stretch of table between them and inched closer. She seemed to be assessing her odds for survival.

  Finally she drew in a deep breath. “I can’t get into this without at least apologizing first. What I said on Saturday, it was a terrible mistake.”

  “Yes,” he said curtly, “it was.” He gestured toward the designs. “Get on with it.”

  For a minute she looked as if she wanted to say more, but finally she shrugged and began describing her work.

  She had just started when Jason interrupted, “You enjoyed slugging me, didn’t you?” The words popped out before he could stop them.

  Pink stole into her cheeks. “No, really. I mean, if you’d been a thief, I would have enjoyed it, but you’re not. Look, I really didn’t realize who you are.”

  “I did try to tell you.”

  She shrugged. “I wasn’t in the mood to listen. It’s a bad habit I have. I make up my mind about something or someone and that’s it. No second chances.”

  “Yet you’re here, expecting me to forget all about what happened. Why should I?”

  “Because I’m genuinely sorry and I really need this break.”

  “Lucky for you, then, that I’m able to separate my personal feelings from my business decisions.” He tried to make it sound noble, but it came out smug. He only hoped it was true. Right this second he wanted very badly to hate her designs. He wanted to tell her she was incompetent. He wanted to make her feel as lousy and humiliated as he’d felt on Saturday.

  Unfortunately the logo designs were impossible to dislike. He had to admit he was impressed, his eye immediately drawn to one that was simple and conservative. Elegant. He could see it on some nice gray stationery. Or maybe cream-colored. It would be very businesslike.

  “I like this one,” he said, quickly settling the matter. “I’ll call John.”

  Dana immediately began shaking her head, no longer the least bit meek or shy. “That one’s old-fashioned,” she said emphatically.

  “We’re an old-fashioned company.”

  “No. Don’t you see, the fabrics you create are rich and bold. They’re exciting. You need a logo that reflects that. This one,” she said, pointing to the one he’d instinctively disliked as being too brash, too much like Dana herself.

  Unfortunately he had a hunch Brandon would agree with her. His grandfather was far more daring than he was. His father would only care how much it was going to cost to implement.

  “Too expensive,” he countered, mouthing what he was certain would be his father’s objection.

  “Actually, I don’t think so. I’ve costed it out,” she said and shoved a piece of paper toward him.

  “What do you know about costing out something like this?”

  “I work for a printer. We do jobs like this all the time. I figured in all the different ways you’d be likely to use a logo and what it would cost to get a new one implemented.”

  Disconcerted by her thoroughness, Jason looked over the figures. They looked reasonably accurate. He caught the hopeful glint in her eyes and cursed the day he’d ever met her. She was going to win, though he wasn’t about to concede victory too easily. He stood and began to pace, trying to figure out his tactics.

  “Okay,” he began finally, “if it were up to me alone, I’d consider this one, but…”

  Suddenly he found himself enveloped in an impulsive hug. Whisper-soft wool caressed his cheek. The scent of spring flowers teased his senses. Every muscle in his body responded to the lightning-quick roar of his blood.

  “Oh, thank you,” she said. “Your grandfather said…”

  The words had the effect of dashing icy water over him. Jason stepped carefully away from her. His gaze narrowed. “That’s the second time you’ve mentioned my grandfather. When exactly did you speak to him?”

  She looked miserable. And guilty. Damn the pair of them, he thought.

  “Well, I…” she began.

  “Never mind,” he said, cutting her off before she could offer him lies. “It’s clear that this entire meeting was a set-up. I’m sure the two of you will be very pleased to know that I will go along with your choice. Now, if you don’t mind, I have things to do.”

  Before he could make his exit, the door swung open and his grandfather rushed in, looking harried. “Sorry I’m late. Are you two finished? Jason, what did you think?”

  “I think you two are in cahoots,” he said bluntly. He glared at his grandfather, then let his furious gaze settle on Dana. “I still don’t know how you did it, but let me warn you. Stay the hell out of my way from here on out.”

  Chapter Three

  Stunned by the depth of anger behind Jason Halloran’s softly-spoken warning, Dana stared after him as he slammed the boardroom door behind him. Her heart pounded wildly as her own temper rose to m
atch his. Of all the arrogant, condescending jerks! She hadn’t arranged this meeting. She hadn’t conspired with anyone. Didn’t he realize that she’d simply been told to show up, just as he had been? Couldn’t he see that she’d been every bit as shocked as he at finding them alone?

  When her pulse finally slowed, she glanced at Brandon Halloran to see how he was taking his grandson’s outburst. Obviously he was the one who’d set them both up, but there wasn’t a hint of remorse in his expression. If anything, he looked downright smug.

  “I thought it went rather well, didn’t you?” he said, sounding pleased.

  Dana regarded him as if he were several cards shy of a full deck. “Well? You think it went well?” She shook her head. “Where was Lesley Bates? And where were you anyway? You promised to be here.”

  “No,” he corrected. “I promised to take care of Jason. And I told Lesley not to come.”

  “And what do you think you accomplished?”

  He leaned back in his chair and beamed. “What I wanted to, and quite well, as a matter of fact. Jason almost never loses his temper.”

  “Oh, really? Well, I have a news flash for you. He seems to make a habit of it around me.”

  “Exactly,” Brandon said.

  “Not that I blame him entirely,” Dana said before the full impact of Brandon Halloran’s comment registered. “You wanted him to lose his temper? Why?”

  “The man’s bored. He needs a challenge.”

  Suddenly Dana began to catch on. She didn’t like the implication one bit. “Oh, no,” she said, shoving designs into her portfolio with little regard to neatness. “Forget it. I’m not hiring on as entertainment for your grandson.”

  “Of course not,” he soothed. “You’re an excellent graphic artist. John Lansing will be lucky to have you on staff.”

  Suddenly the job at the printing company began to look better and better. She could stay on, do a few odd design jobs. Eventually she would find another agency job, one that wouldn’t put her into contact with one man who seemed to enjoy yelling at her and another who thought such behavior was tantamount to a mating ritual.

  “I’ll be in touch,” the old man said as she grabbed her purse and headed for the door.

  “No, really. Please let it go.” There was an edge of desperation in her voice. “If you want the designs, they’re yours. I’ll leave them at the Lansing Agency. You make whatever arrangements you want with them.”

  “You don’t want the job?”

  Dana thought of what it would mean to her to be hired by the small, prestigious agency. She compared that to one more second in the presence of the disconcerting, manipulating Halloran men. “No,” she said firmly. “I do not want the job, not if it means seeing that man again.” She glared in the direction Jason had gone in case there was any doubt about which man she’d meant.

  Even that seemed to bring a smile to Brandon Halloran’s lips. Why did she have this terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach that he was likely to have the last word?

  * * *

  “Ms. Roberts? John Lansing. Congratulations!”

  Dana sank down on the stool in front of her design table. “Congratulations,” she repeated weakly. “For what?”

  “Halloran Industries wants the logo design. The job is yours.”

  Where was the sense of elation? The satisfaction? All she felt was panic.

  “I don’t think so,” she said, forcing herself not to think about the opportunity she was giving up. The future. The money. Was she every bit as crazy as Brandon Halloran and his grandson?

  Her response was greeted by silence, then, “I don’t understand. You don’t want the job? Is it the salary? Have you had a better offer? I’m sure I can come up with a deal that will match anything anyone else in town is likely to give you.”

  “It’s not the money,” she said, practically choking on the words.

  “What then?”

  “I just don’t think I’m cut out for that sort of work,” she lied.

  “Of course you are. I can’t tell you how impressed Brandon Halloran is with you.”

  “I’m sure,” she muttered.

  “I hate to pressure you, Ms. Roberts, but the truth of the matter is, Brandon wants you on this account very badly,” he said. Then he added the clincher: “If you don’t agree to join the Lansing Agency, we could lose Halloran Industries.”

  Dana gasped as she recognized Brandon Halloran’s trump card. The man intended to lay a monumental guilt trip on her. “That’s ridiculous,” she said. “You’ve had that account forever.”

  “It’s a cutthroat business and it all turns on the quality of the campaign. Brandon Halloran insists he’ll take his business to whichever agency you do join. It’s as simple as that.”

  “The man is nuts,” she said with feeling. “He is certifiably nuts. A fruitcake! Loony tunes!”

  “He’s one of the smartest businessmen I’ve ever met and he drives one helluva bargain. He wants you on this account. I want you on this account.”

  “Why me?” she said, but she already knew the answer and it had nothing to do with her designs. Brandon Halloran had handpicked her for that ill-tempered grandson of his. She was sure he hadn’t told John Lansing that.

  “Maybe I could talk him out of it,” she said. Thinking of the stubborn, determined glint she’d seen in his eyes, though, she doubted he’d listen to reason.

  “Wouldn’t it just be simpler to accept my offer?” Lansing suggested.

  Simpler, maybe, Dana agreed. Then images of Jason Halloran popped up. Disconcerting images, the kind that made a woman’s pulse race even against her own will. Sure it would be simpler to say yes, but wiser? No way. She and Jason Halloran were like oil and water—they just weren’t destined to mix. One or the other of them was always likely to be clinging to a last shred of sanity.

  “It’s the chance of a lifetime,” Lansing reminded her.

  Dana sighed. “I’ll think about it,” she promised as a compromise when she couldn’t seem to manage a flat-out no a second time.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he responded. “I’m looking forward to your decision,” he said, suddenly sounding every bit as confident as Brandon Halloran that things were going to go his way.

  Dana wasted nearly half an hour trying to finish the design she was doing for the next event at the bookstore. Unfortunately all of the children she drew surrounding a storyteller looked like pint-sized versions of Jason Halloran.

  He was the crux of the problem, she admitted, not his grandfather. Brandon might be a manipulating, conniving sneak, but her relationship with Jason was the real issue. They’d gotten off on the wrong foot and things had gone from bad to worse.

  Leaving Brandon’s scheming aside, maybe if she went to Jason, told him how important this job was to her, maybe they could find some way to get along. Barring that, maybe they could simply agree to avoid each other. That was, after all, what he’d said he wanted—rather emphatically, as she recalled. Although it was beyond her imagination to come up with a way for a designer to stay out of the path of the head of marketing, she was desperate enough to try anything at this point. At least she could almost guarantee that their paths would never cross outside the office.

  She looked up the number for Halloran Industries and called before she could change her mind.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Halloran has left for the day,” his secretary said.

  Dana glanced at her watch. “At four-thirty?”

  “Yes,” she said, her disapproval evident. “May I tell him who called?”

  “It’s Dana Roberts. I don’t suppose you know where I could find him?”

  “You might try Washington’s Tavern.”

  Dana nearly groaned. The bartender would probably run her off on sight. “Thanks. I’ll try to catch up with him there,” she said.

  Why did she have this terrible feeling that returning to the scene of their original encounter did not bode well for putting their relationship on an improved
footing?

  * * *

  Jason was on his third Scotch. It had clarified his thinking considerably. He had to get out of Halloran Industries before he went stark raving mad. He had a degree in marketing, but it was obvious any important decisions were still being made by his grandfather. In fact, judging from the way today had gone, Brandon had every intention of planning every last detail of his life. Trying to hook him up with Dana Roberts was the clincher. Just the thought of what life would be with that brash, impetuous woman made him shudder.

  “Mr. Halloran?”

  The familiar feminine voice punctured his Scotch-induced serenity. “No,” he said firmly without looking up. “Go away.”

  A knee bumped his as Dana Roberts ignored his plea and slid into the booth. Awareness rocketed through him.

  “We need to talk,” she said.

  Jason groaned. “I thought I told you…”

  “I know what you told me. Believe me, if there were any other way, I wouldn’t be here, but something has to be done to stop your grandfather.”

  He glanced up and met her determined gaze. “Now there’s something we can agree on. What’s the old man done to you?”

  “He has some crazy idea that you…that you and I…”

  She sounded so thoroughly embarrassed that for once Jason couldn’t help a rueful chuckle. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

  “He has to be stopped. Now he’s told John Lansing that if I don’t take this job, he’ll take the Halloran Industries account away from them and follow me wherever I go.”

  Jason blinked and stared. “He what?”

  “You heard me. John Lansing shouldn’t lose an account just because your grandfather’s gotten it into his head to throw us together. Now either you talk him out of that or you and I have to find some other way to put our differences behind us and work together.”

  “Not damned likely!” At her hurt expression, he mumbled, “Sorry, but you know yourself it would never work.”

  “We could try.”

  To his amazement she sounded almost wistful. He would have thought that the one thing they were never likely to agree on was staying out of each other’s way. He squinted at her across the table and saw something vulnerable in her expression. He realized then just how much she wanted this job. She looked like a kid who’d awakened on Christmas morning to discover a longed-for doll under the tree, only to realize it was meant for someone else. It made his usually impervious heart flip over. As crazy as it seemed, he was almost envious of her eagerness.