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* * *
Bell
Porn ’stache folded. As I knew he would. You can try to pull the women are overemotional in business card all you want, but you can’t argue cold, hard evidence, which is what I have. Security footage of John in the building after he was fired and his digital footprint all over my clients’ information files sealed his fate.
I blink against the sun as I overlook the city skyline, visible from the prominently located high-rise in Houston. In the eight years since I started this company, I’ve gone from working out of my bedroom to being the youngest female president and CEO of a marketing agency in the country. Now my personal offices are housed in Houston’s prestigious Galleria, though I have staff across the United States. That’s the beauty of business these days—you can do it from anywhere in the country. Especially when your business focuses on online marketing.
Even so, I’d always thought the city skyline outside my office window would be a bit bigger.
And it was—for a moment.
“Ms. King, call on line two.”
Closing my eyes on the bright Texas sun, I let the black dots dance behind my lids as my eyes adjust. I swivel in my chair, reaching for the intercom button on my phone. “Who is it?”
Forbes just ran an article citing King Marketing as one of the top ten innovative companies to watch. Which means lately I’ve been getting a lot of cold calls from businesses wanting my company’s help.
“A Mister… uh, oops!” She giggles. “I forgot his name.”
I roll my eyes at the recent temp the agency sent. Who giggles at their own ineptitude? I don’t bother replying. I disconnect with her and pick up the receiver, pressing two. “Campbell King here.”
“Hello, Ms. King. Thank you for taking my call. Glad I could catch you before lunch.”
Sex. That’s what the voice sounds like. Tingles shoot across my skin. All roads lead to Rome? Well, all tingles lead to my hoo-ha.
“Ms. King?”
“Hmm, what?” I shiver. “Oh, yes. I’m here.” I shake off the trance his voice put me in and uncross my legs, planting both feet firmly on the floor under my desk. I finally register what Sexy-voice said and glance at the clock on my desk. “Yes, well, I usually don’t leave for lunch until noon.”
“The time difference.” He pauses. “I forgot. It’s already noon here in New York.”
My stomach drops. New York?
“I recently read the article about your business in Forbes,” Sexy-voice continues. “Your company’s really been making a name for itself, thinking outside the box and reinventing businesses by enlarging their digital presence. That’s exactly what we need. I wanted to call as soon as I was ready to set up a meeting. I’d like to discuss the possibility of your company coming on as consultants in developing a new marketing plan for Moore’s that utilizes social media. Something Moore’s has been sorely lacking.”
Moore’s? He couldn’t mean the Moore’s, could he?
“I’m sorry, Mr.…?”
“Moore. Chase Moore.”
Holy shit.
“I’m sorry, didn’t your secretary tell you?”
I take a deep breath. “No, I’m sorry. I recently lost my amazing assistant to maternity leave, and the temps haven’t been… well, up to par, so to speak.”
He chuckles, and it does something to my insides. “I understand. Moore’s has recently undergone a few personnel changes of its own.”
“Hence your phone call to King Marketing.”
Another laugh. “You’re quick.”
“You have to be, in this business.” Feeling more in control, I pick up my fountain pen and scratch out ‘Moore’s’ on my legal pad. “So, Mr. Moore, just what exactly are you looking for?”
* * *
First class has ruined me for life. I spent the flight curled under a cashmere blanket, my feet toasty in complimentary slippers while the stewardess served me glass after glass of champagne.
