The Pitch: City Love 2 (10 page)

“Uh huh.”

“Go with me on this. Then you get your team to run through the pitch – except you get everybody to swap roles.”

“Swap roles?”

“Yes. So if Paul was the lead presenter and I was running through the creative, we’d swap.”

“But surely you wouldn’t know each other’s parts?”

He slapped me lightly on the back, much to my amusement. “Exactly! You make it up.”

I looked to Paul for clarity just as a wide smile lit up his whole face. It almost undid me.

“Greg’s a crazy bastard,” Paul said, “but you’d be amazed how it works. Some of those pre-pitch meetings have been the most memorable of my career.”

Greg registered my combination of confusion and disbelief. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but that’s the whole point. The staff really gets into it and they actually pretend to be each other. It’s hilarious.”

“And the best part is that it makes them realize just how much work goes into each aspect of the pitch. It breeds respect among the team,” Paul told me.

I stared at the two of them, amused. Apparently one of the most successful media companies in Sydney was run by a pair of school boys. “So I take it this is documented in your operating procedures?”

Greg grinned at me. “Something like that. Trust us, it works.”

Paul came around to my other side and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Shall I introduce you to a few more important people before Greg imparts any more useful advice?”

“That would be great.”

Greg did his best impression of appearing wounded. “He’s a beast, Madeleine. Promise me you won’t let him push you around?”

“I’m pretty sure I know how to handle him,” I promised with a laugh.

“He likes it when you’re bossy.”

Paul’s grip on my shoulder tightened and he cleared his throat. Greg gave a chuckle and walked away shaking his head.

“You’ve been in business with him for ten years?” I asked.

“Yes. He’s actually very astute. Not that he gives that impression.”

“You balance each other out.”

“We do. Although it can be frustrating at times.”

I thought of the conversation I’d heard earlier. It hadn’t been about work, but I could tell the two men had a strong relationship. It meant they could challenge one another, which was important.

“Come on,” Paul said. “There are some people I want you to meet.”

*

A couple of hours later I sat nursing a wine in the corner of the room. Paul and Greg had introduced me to a ridiculous number of people and I was extremely thankful, but my feet were now staging a protest. You’d think after years of working in high heels my feet would be used to the demands of the job, but it wasn’t to be.

“Are you okay?” Paul asked, looking down at me from his full height.

“Stupid heels,” I replied with a grimace.

“You’re tall enough not to wear them.”

“It’s the look, Paul.”

“I won’t argue with that.” He held out a hand. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride home. No arguments.”

“Not arguing.” I allowed him to hoist me to my feet, wincing a bit.

“Take the bloody things off, Madeleine. No one will care.”

He had a point, so I reached down and pried them off my poor, swollen feet. “Oh God,” I muttered. “Why do I do it?”

“Because you’re a woman.”

Standing flat-footed I noticed he was slightly taller than me. He had no idea how much of a turn on that was for me.

“Can you walk?”

“Just. Let’s face it, I’m too heavy to carry anyway.”

Paul looked at me as if measuring his next words. “Oh, I don’t know. I think I could still throw you over my shoulder.”

We stared at each other. “Probably not office appropriate,” I said eventually.

Paul’s mouth curled at the edges. “Probably not. Come on.”

We walked down the corridor in silence, while that damn word came to mind again.
Goddess.
Was that really how he saw me? If so, then why didn’t he do anything about it?

Kiss him.

My conversation with Christa resurfaced and I did my best to ignore it. It didn’t help that we were alone, waiting for the elevators to the basement, where Paul’s car was parked. I’d only had one drink but it had been on an empty stomach. Combined with my frustration, it was enough to make me do something stupid.

The elevator doors opened. I watched Paul go in ahead of me, but didn’t move.

“Madeleine?”

I hesitated again, and he had to press the button to hold the elevator.

Why, oh why, were we the only ones using the elevator?

I nodded before he could say anything more and joined him inside. He pressed the button for basement two. We watched as the doors closed.

The inside of the elevator suddenly felt very claustrophobic.

“You impressed a lot of people tonight.”

I glanced over at Paul, grateful for the small talk. “What makes you say that?”

“It’s the way you hold yourself. You’re older than your years.” He shot me a look. “I’m not implying that applies to your appearance.”

“You’re getting better at not insulting me. That may have even been a compliment.”

“Good to know I’m making progress.”

“Do you always find giving compliments difficult?” My tone was teasing, but I was genuinely curious.

Paul’s expression darkened. “No.”

I stiffened, not sure what to say in response. Paul studied the floor of the elevator.

“Paul.” I reached over and placed a hand on his arm. His head shot up. When I saw the look on his face, a mixture of anger and frustration, I faltered.

He gave me a grin. “I have quite a way with words when it comes to you, don’t I?”

“Except I wonder if you’re saying what you really mean.” I dropped my hand away and sighed.

He blew out a long breath. “I’m not sure you’re ready for my brand of honesty.”

I stepped closer. “Try me.”

His blue eyes remained unreadable. “It’s not appropriate,” he said eventually.

I stepped in again, closing the gap so our bodies were as close as two people could get without touching. “I’m a big girl, Paul. How about you let me decide what is and isn’t appropriate?”

I watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down while he swallowed. The elevator dinged, announcing our arrival at the ground floor. I wanted to scream at the timing.

Paul stepped past me, and I stifled a tortured sigh. I followed him across the parking lot, my pulse racing and my senses swimming. At this rate I was going to have to goddamn kiss him and risk the fallout. I’d never known a man so frustratingly mute when it came to his feelings.

Despite my long legs, I struggled to keep up with his pace. My stockinged feet slapped against the pavement, and with every step I winced.

“Will you please slow down!”

Paul immediately stopped and waited for me to catch up. “Sorry.”

“It’s enough to make a girl think you’re running away from her,” I muttered.

He gave me a sharp look and then gestured for me to follow him. “I’m just up here.”

A minute later we arrived beside his black Audi and he held the passenger door open for me.

“Thanks.” The cushioned leather seats felt sublime and I stretched my legs out as far as I could. “Thank God.”

He slid into the driver’s seat and started the car without a word. He already knew where I lived because he was making a habit of dropping me home – first when we picked up the files and again after our awkward dinner. We drove in silence. After a few minutes I couldn’t bear it anymore so I reached over and switched on the stereo. Midnight Oil’s “Beds Are Burning” lyrics blared through the speakers. Paul used a button to turn it down.

“Let’s try something else,” he suggested. He selected the next disc and after a moment the familiar sound of the Foals floated through the cabin.

“I didn’t know you listened to the Foals.”

It was dark but I could have sworn he colored slightly. “My oldest son likes it.”

For a split second I had the audacity to wonder if he’d bought the CD after I mentioned I liked the band, but immediately dismissed it. If his son was twelve it was just as likely he’d encouraged his dad to buy it.

The music took the edge off the atmosphere in the car and we rode the rest of the journey in a less uncomfortable silence. By the time we arrived outside my apartment I was more relaxed, but an odd sense of determination had come over me.

“I’ll see you on Thursday, midday, for the big pitch,” Paul said.

I ignored him. “I’d like you to come upstairs for a quick drink.”

Paul didn’t look at me, instead focusing on the view of the harbor outside the window. “It’s late.”

“Yes, I know. That’s why I said it would be quick.”

He turned to look at me. “Are you nervous about the pitch?”

“I need to run through a few things with you, if that’s okay?” It wasn’t the exact truth but it would have to do. I actually wasn’t sure what my intentions were in bringing him up to my apartment, but I knew if I didn’t clear the air with him it was going to seriously impair my ability to concentrate during the pitch.

Paul parked the car. He followed me up the unlit path beside my apartment building, the scent of jasmine leading our way. The hedge was so overgrown in places that we had to duck several times. When we arrived at the entrance doors Paul bumped into me.

“I don’t see how this is safe,” he commented.

“You get used to it.” I unlocked the door and flicked on the lights. The foyer and stairs were art deco, originally built in the nineteen thirties. I loved the old wooden staircase and how the dark tones of the wood contrasted the cream walls. Paul followed me up to the first floor and I opened the door to my apartment. I threw my high heels on the floor with a loud clatter and switched on the lights. We made our way silently down the hallway past my bedroom.

“Nice,” Paul said, when we arrived in my lounge room. He observed my minimalist furniture and the views of the harbor. “Very Madeleine.”

I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, so I headed to one of my inbuilt cupboards next to my flat screen television. “I’m having a whiskey. Would you like one?”

“Whiskey?” Paul stood watching me with a bemused look on his face.

“It’s a lesser known Scottish brand, eighteen year vintage,” I told him.

“Sure. However you’re having it.”

“Straight,” I said, and noticed the bemused look turn to one of respect. “My father is a connoisseur,” I added.

I set two small glasses on the dining table and poured us each a finger. The truth was I didn’t drink whiskey regularly, but I did feel the need for a shot now and then. Right now was one of those times.

After I handed him a drink, he pulled out one of my dining chairs. I watched as he took a sip and was secretly pleased when his eyebrows raised.

“Wow.”

“It’s good, isn’t it?” I took a sip and savored the burning warmth as it trailed down my throat. The familiar term, Dutch courage, came to mind, but I pushed the thought aside. I walked over and sat on the edge of my lounge, so we were sitting opposite each other. I took a deep breath. “I need to apologize for last Friday night. Scarlett is a good friend, but she can be meddlesome.”

Paul’s face registered surprise, but he didn’t say anything. He waited for me to continue.

“The thing is, John is desperately in love with Scarlett. Not me. The kiss between John and I was purely for your benefit.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“No one can truly understand Scarlett. In her screwed up mind she thought having another man kiss me might provoke a response from you.” I paused and waited for my words to sink in, watching him carefully. His face remained guarded. When he didn’t deny my statement, I continued, “I told her it was a stupid idea. The silly woman went ahead with her evil machinations anyway, and put poor John up to it.”

“But you kissed him back.”

For some reason it was the last response I’d expected. I reddened. “I was put on the spot and just kind of went with it. Blame it on not being kissed for about four years, as ridiculous as that sounds.”

Paul stood and I watched as he paced the small area between my dining table and open plan kitchen. He repeated the circuit five times before he stopped and turned to look at me. “I should go.”

I stared at him in shock. He placed the whiskey glass on the bench, then walked toward the hallway without saying another word.

“Wait!” I hated the echo of desperation in my voice. “Is that it? Is that all you’re going to say?”

He stopped, but didn’t turn. “What do you want me to say?”

“How about being honest? I’d like to know your feelings,” I suggested quietly.

“My feelings make no difference.” Then he started walking toward my front door again.

I shook my head in disbelief, which soon turned to frustration. Before I could think about what I was doing, I stormed down the hallway, pushed past him and put myself between him and the front door. I glared at him. “Yes it does, especially if I have feelings for you.”

“Madeleine – ”

“
Maddy!
It’s Maddy, alright? Every time you say my name like that all I want to do is – ” I stopped myself and glared at him again. If words weren’t going to cut it, maybe it was time I spoke to him in a language he could understand. I reached over and grabbed him by the shoulders, then pushed him hard against the wall.

I pressed the full length of my body against his, then reached behind his head and brought his lips to mine. I’d expected the physical contact would be a jolt to my system, but I hadn’t anticipated the scent of him. Warm and masculine and surprisingly fresh, it was all I could do stop myself devouring him.

His lips were soft and unexpectedly willing. Our tentative tastes quickly turned to desperate exploration. I could feel his muscled body through our clothes and I pushed myself more firmly against him. I shuddered at the length of him pressed against me, indisputable evidence of his attraction to me. I let out a small cry as his hands came around to cup my buttocks, then traveled the length of my back until they buried themselves in my hair.

I’d only meant to kiss him, but suddenly I wanted to shed my clothes and drag him into my bedroom.

As if sensing my intentions, Paul eased me back gently and looked into my eyes. His blue eyes appeared alight, but uncertain. “Madeleine.”

I gave him a shy smile. “Careful. You’re saying it again.”

“Regardless of my feelings for you, this isn’t a good idea.”

I blinked, unsure of his meaning. “I know it’s been four years for me, so I might have got carried away – ”

“This isn’t a good idea,” he repeated. He released my shoulders and stepped back, breaking the contact between us. “I’m fifteen years older than you,” he continued, looking pained. “I’m divorced, with children.”

“I’m well aware of that.”

“You have your whole life ahead of you.”

“So do you,” I replied stubbornly.

“You don’t understand,” Paul said softly, and reached over to stroke my hair gently. “I’m not the man for you, Madeleine. I can’t give you what you want.”

My temper flared dangerously and he must have seen it because he dropped his hand.

“How about you let me be the judge of that?”

“And have you waste the best years of your life on a man who can’t give you what you need? I don’t think so.” He went to move around me, but I stepped in front of him.

“And what is it I need that you can’t give me?” I demanded.

He closed his eyes and exhaled a long breath. When he opened them again he appeared resigned. “A family. Children. I’ve already had mine. I’ve done such a poor job the first time I’m not willing to bet I’d do any better the second time around.”

I studied him with a mixture of frustration and sympathy. “You’re too hard on yourself. And it’s also extremely presumptuous to assume you know my feelings or intentions.”

He stepped away again. “Wait for the right guy. Although I’m relieved you don’t have feelings for surfer boy,” he admitted. To my surprise, he leaned over and brushed his lips tenderly to mine.

It was all I could do not to pull him to me.

“I’m not that guy, Madeleine. Trust me,” he whispered.

I watched, confused, while he opened the door. He walked out without turning around, closing it firmly behind him.