felt even less like a private work area.
Boz, as Liv called him in her mind but never aloud, barged in and sat down in Liv’s chair before she had a chance to get started on anything.
“Good morning, Ray,” she said, put in the position of standing at attention in front of him.
“I knew you’d want to hear about Friday’s executive meeting,” he said self-importantly.
Most days Liv liked Boz well enough, even though he could be pompous. The round, graying VP was a professional glad-hander, and, to his credit, he was usually as pleasant to employees as to clients.
“I haven’t had a chance to call up the minutes,” Liv admitted.
“There’s going to be a slight shift in your duties, Liv. Nothing major right away, but we’ll be easing you into new responsibilities,” Bosworth said, suddenly intent on examining his fingernails.
“What kind of shift?” Out of the corner of her eye she saw Brandi had stopped working to listen.
“Billy wants more emphasis on client relations. You’ll be expected to generate new leads and work up some accounts of your own. Gradually we’ll take you out of crisis management in favor of having your own client base.”
“But crisis management is my specialty,” she protested.
“And you’re good at it.” Boz tried to smile benevolently, but he was looking at Brandi, not Liv. “This is your opportunity to grow with the firm, be on the cutting edge of expansion.”
She got it. She had to generate new business.
“The firm will supply you with leads, but you’ll do your old job until you have developed a new client base.” He stood and smoothed his dark charcoal jacket, as though it could conceal his barrel belly. “Remember, Liv, Billy wants you to loosen up. Dress more youthfully. Maybe Brandi Jo could give you a few pointers.”
Or maybe, Liv thought angrily, I should cruise the South Side and see what the girls on the street are wearing.
“You know, Billy takes a personal interest in every employee,” Boz said sanctimoniously. “He’s our team leader. He wants success for his employees as much as for himself, and we need a whole new slate of hip clients.”
“I love helping clients who have real problems,” Liv said. “I love the challenge of putting out fires.”
“Well, it wouldn’t hurt you to start a few,” her boss said dryly, dropping his good-guy act. “Brandi Jo, can I see you in my office?”
Liv watched the intern totter out on three-inch heels. How could Boz dump on her in front of an intern? Maybe he’d done it to encourage Brandi Jo. Maybe Liv’s job would be available sooner than she thought.
Liv tried to convince herself that change was sometimes good, but she didn’t like Boz’s explanation. It sounded like a sink-or-swim situation, not an opportunity for advancement.
She had no choice but to try to meet her boss’s expectations, but she would not consult Brandi Jo Willis for tips on how to dress. What did her bosses want, tight low-rise pants and a pierced navel?
Unfortunately, Billy wanted her to look sexy in hopes of enticing new clients for the agency. She wasn’t high enough up the ladder to get a chance at major accounts, so her life would degenerate into a series of tedious lunches and meetings with restaurant owners, club managers and other small-time hotshots.
Meanwhile, what did she have to do to appease the new president of the firm? Darned if she’d copy Brandi’s style, but there were some things she could do.
First, the black turtleneck had to go. Her office was warm enough to wear her sweater without it. The white cashmere plunged to a deep V but tied securely at her waist. She’d spend her day trying to keep it together so her bra wouldn’t show, but at least it would demonstrate she was trying to loosen up.
She’d dawdled too long to waste more time going to the inconveniently located women’s restroom at the end of the outer corridor. It would only take a few seconds to peel off the turtleneck and slip back into her sweater. She stood and quickly started stripping, not really wanting to get caught in the act by her snotty little intern.
The air was cool on her bare shoulders and back, and she shivered in her lacy peach bra.
When a sharp knock on the door startled her, she called emphatically, “Wait just a minute.”
The dark oak door banged inward on loose hinges, and she faced her visitor in an underwire bra that gave her enough uplift to launch a rocket.
“Now, that’s what I call effective public relations,” the newcomer said, pushing the door shut without taking his eyes off her cleavage.
“Nick!”
“Do you do a striptease for all your potential clients?” He had a devilish smile, and he beamed it at her full force.
She was too stunned to continue dressing. Five years had weathered the last vestiges of boyishness from Nick Matheson’s face, but his deep-set eyes were as blue and penetrating as ever.
“What are you doing here?”
“Sorry. The receptionist said to walk right in.” He turned his back to her.
“Are you a potential client?”
Her fingers felt thick and clumsy, but she managed to get into the sweater and yank the ties into a tight knot.
“Not exactly.”
“It’s been a long time,” she said. “How have you been?” Other than gorgeous, sexy and cocky.
“Fine.”
“You can turn around now. How did you know I work here?”
She tried not to squirm as he turned and gazed at her.
“You still look spectacular, Liv.”
“Thanks.”
He still had the annoying habit of dodging questions, but her own reaction concerned her more. How could he possibly look even better at twenty-nine than he had as a twenty-four-year-old graduate student? He was dressed in a conservative jacket and slacks, a big step up from the jeans and sweatshirts he used to live in, but his long, lanky body looked even harder and more muscular. His hair was shorter but still combed back from his forehead. He was clean-shaven, and his skin had a honey glow with high color in his cheeks from the cold outside.
“If you came for an apology, I’m sorry.”
“Oh, your message.” His little grin vanished. “My dentist leaves a friendlier one.”
“I’m sorry about that. I was upset.”
“Because your sister invited me? If you didn’t want me to be there, it’s okay.”
She was touched that Nick cared enough to look her up, but rattled because her heart was pounding. She had to fight a crazy urge to jump into his arms and kiss him silly.
She’d imagined seeing him by accident someday, maybe on the street or at a party. She’d thought up all kinds of clever, witty comments to show him that she was over him, so why couldn’t she remember a single one now?
“It’s not that. The party is canceled. My parents won’t be celebrating their thirtieth anniversary because they’re getting a divorce.”
“Liv, I’m really sorry. I know what a blow it is when parents split.”
“Yeah, and I never saw it coming.”
“If it’s any consolation, mine are much happier apart. They’ve both remarried and like their new lives.”
“Well, I’m sorry my message was so abrupt. I’d just found out, and I had so many people to call and—” She started twisting the ties of her sweater then forced herself to stop. She’d