Time After Time (7 page)

"What were you saying about Faith?" Leah asked.

"She's dating a guy from the mail room. I know you've seen him—tall and thin, with three-inch-thick glasses. His name is Derek."

Leah shook her head thoughtfully. "No, I can't remember seeing him. Is he okay?"

Shelley smiled. "The best he'll ever be is okay. But Faith is crazy about him. He sends her poetry on the back of transfer slips."

"Well...that's sort of romantic," Leah said doubtfully. "How long has it been going on?"

"Only about a week," Bitty said. "But don't worry. Neither of them is the type for heavy passion. Besides, Faith said she's not sure he's the One."

All three women groaned. "She'll never learn," Shelley said. "She's still looking for someone who'll sacrifice a kingdom for her."

"If any sacrificing is done, she'll be the one to do it," Leah said regretfully.

"Are you going to lecture her again?" Bitty asked with a grin. "Tell her all about how women degrade themselves by giving up too much for LOVE in capital letters?"

Sacrificing for love? Leah thought with an inward groan as she avoided her friend's eyes. They would laugh themselves silly if she told them about her dream of the night before.

Why on earth had she dreamed something like that? she wondered. She couldn't blame it all on sexual frustration. The tone had been too sickly sentimental. No one in his right mind would ever call her sentimental.

She frowned. She remembered reading somewhere that a cynic was nothing more than a disillusioned romantic. Was that it? Was it possible that the discarding of her adolescent fantasies had not been the natural product of maturing? Could it be that they had been discarded in self-defense after what had happened to her in college?

Leah hadn't thought of Grady in years, and it surprised her that he should enter her mind now. She didn't like the idea that her experience of a young love gone bad could still be affecting her after all this time.

As the talk flowed between the other two women, Leah contributed a word now and then, but her mind was taken over by her thoughts of the past.

She had been so young and innocent back then. Young and innocent and incredibly stupid.

It had been her first time away from home, and she'd found herself caught up in the excitement and scariness of moving into a sorority house and finally being her own person. She had met Grady on campus the second week of the term, and she had fallen in love with him the very same day. Gloriously, overwhelmingly, wholeheartedly in love, as only an eighteen-year-old can be.

Without hesitation, Leah had given one hundred and fifty percent to the budding relationship. She did

Grady's history research; she did Grady's laundry; she had even tried to change her personality so that she would be more like the person Grady wanted her to be.

Then, six months after she had met him, she had discovered that her True Love was sleeping with her roommate. And her best friend. And her English professor. The only person Grady wasn't sleeping with was Mrs. Ostley, her housemother, and at the time Leah had even wondered if the sweet, gray-haired lady hadn't spent an inordinate amount of time staring at Grady's tight jeans.

Leah shook her head. No, she refused to believe that an immature jerk like Grady had had a lasting affect on her life. But she wasn't a cynic. Not really. She was merely more objective than most women. There was nothing wrong with that, she told herself defensively.

And she kept telling herself that. In a few days she had the argument down pat. Working around Mr. Gregory helped enormously. He would have annihilated anyone without a tough shell.

As though to prove that the glimpse of the softer man Leah had seen at DFW had indeed been the figment of an overstimulated brain, her superior had been even more difficult to please. People had taken to ducking into rest rooms and janitors' closets when they saw him coming.

On an evening three days after her lunch with Bitty and Shelley, Leah sat in Mr. Gregory's office, her expression harried as she riffled through the papers in her lap.

"I'll get Leonard to check this out," she said.

"Make damned sure he goes to the right people. I won't have Posner messing it up at this stage of the game." He raised his gaze to hers, his lips tightening into the Frown. "He's your responsibility." Without giving her a chance to respond, he glanced at his watch. "It's seven-thirty. Get your things together and we'll go eat."

And then I can hear for another hour about all the things I've done wrong, she thought with silent sarcasm. She opened her mouth to make an excuse, but again she didn't get a chance to speak.

"If we can figure out what's going on with Maxwell," he said, standing to shrug into his jacket, "it could save us a lot of grief later on."

Leah gave an inward sigh of defeat when she realized there was no alternative to having dinner with him. She should have known better. Paul Gregory didn't make requests; he issued orders.

As she followed behind him in her own car, she reluctantly admitted that they did need to get the issue settled. Leon Maxwell, one of the key men from the advertising agency that had submitted the best proposal—not to mention the highest price—was giving off strange signals. Signals that were making everyone involved in the project uneasy. If Maxwell decided to play musical chairs and leave the agency now or anytime in the near future, it would throw a definite kink in the progress of the new promotional campaign.

In the dimly lighted steak house, they were ushered to a booth at the back of a large, elegantly subdued

dining room. As soon as the waiter had taken their orders, Mr. Gregory turned back to Leah.

"Okay, tell me again exactly what Maxwell said to you—word for word," he said briskly.

She was still talking when their food arrived. And twice, as she ate, she had to reach into her briefcase for additional information.

Finally he nodded. "All right, that's it, then. Tomorrow I'll go see him myself—unofficially."

Leah relaxed against the leather seat with a sigh. She couldn't even remember what she had eaten. The wine, however, was excellent, she thought as she picked up her glass again. In the shadows left by the candles, it looked deep purple, almost black.

"This is a nice place," she murmured absentmind-edly, momentarily letting down her guard. "But I don't know why restaurants with really excellent food insist on candlelight. I can never tell if I'm eating the appetizer or the flower arrangement."

She just happened to glance up as she finished speaking and was thereby witness to the most extraordinary change. The flickering light picked up a green sparkle in eyes that crinkled at the corners seconds before he leaned back in the seat and laughed.

Mr. Gregory laughed.

He actually laughed. A chuckle alone should have been, in Leah's opinion, accompanied by claps of thunder and flashes of lightning from heaven. But an honest-to-God laugh was inconceivable.

Good Lord, she thought, her brown eyes dazed, the man is gorgeous. The change in him was unreal. His

features were softer, fuller. It looked as though he had discarded ten years in a single instant.

"What's wrong?" he said, still smiling as Leah stared in amazement.

"Nothing," she said, shaking her head helplessly. "I've just never seen you laugh before."

He raised one brow, his green eyes filled with amusement. "Well, Miss French, since I've never heard you say anything funny before, I guess we're even."

Never in a million years, she thought wryly. Not even if he left half his brain at home.

Picking up her glass, she swallowed the remainder of the wine in a single gulp. She felt strangely disoriented. This was not the man she had worked with for four years. This was a man she didn't know.

Then a crazy thought flashed through her mind.
But you do know him. This is the man who walks through your dreams.

Chapter Four

Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell: It fell upon a little western flower—

A Midsummer Night's Dream
—Act II, Scene 2

T
he radio spots stink."

Leah glanced at Mr. Gregory. They were in his car on their way back from a presentation at the advertising agency. It had been three weeks since he had taken her to the steak house for dinner, and although he occasionally relaxed enough to smile, he was still as formidable as ever.

"I know damn well those weren't Maxwell's work," he continued. "And he knows I know it. He was watching me too closely while they were being presented."

"Yes, I noticed," she said.

Universale marketing department handled ads in the trade papers, and they usually took care of the daily newspapers and radio spots. But the media advertising for this particular campaign was tied together, which meant that the ad agency was responsible for newspaper, radio and television material.

"When I talked to Maxwell last week," Leah continued, "he hinted that someone in his office was trying to play politics, but at the time, he didn't seem to think it would affect us."

"It won't affect us," Mr. Gregory said, his features tight and hard. "I won't let it. No one plays games with Universal. If they can't straighten out their act, we'll pull the whole thing."

"The whole project?" Leah asked, frowning. "But that means it would be well into next year before we got it put together,"

"They won't let us pull it," he said confidently. He pulled the car off the freeway and parked in front of a small restaurant. "I want you on this as soon as we get back to the office." As he stepped from the car, he was still talking, and Leah had to scramble out to catch his words. "Drop a few hints that Mr. Gregory thinks maybe he's given them too much leeway and just might start making suggestions."

She chuckled softly. He was right. They wouldn't have to pull the project. There was nothing an advertising man liked less than a client who tried to do his job for him.

For the next half hour they ate in silence. She could almost see his mind speeding through the problem, finding alternatives, testing and discarding ideas.

He met her gaze. "I think you'd better look over the campaign they did for us two years ago."

Leah remembered the campaign well. Although she hadn't been closely involved in the project, she had followed every step, absorbing it all so that when she had her chance she would be aware of the pitfalls.

"It was good stuff," he continued. "Study all the old copy and make notes. There was something there that's missing in this new material."

Leah nodded. That meant she would have to take the material home with her. She had three meetings scheduled for this afternoon—meetings she couldn't possibly put off.

A small frown tugged at her lips as she suddenly wondered if he knew how often she took work home with her. And if he knew, did he care?

She glanced up at his thoughtful, distant face.
Do you see me, Mr. Gregory? Do you really know who's sitting across the table from you?

It annoyed her that she had even allowed the thought to develop. It shouldn't matter whether he saw her or not. But somehow, it did. It mattered very much.

She had never worked as closely with him as she had in the last two months. Now they stayed late at the office together. They shared meals. Breakfast, lunch, dinner—whatever was going at the time. On some

days she spent more time with him in his office than she did in her own.

And never once had he even hinted that he saw her as an individual. As a woman.

Aha! she thought with derision. Now we're getting to the heart of the matter. She wanted him to see her as a woman.

Admit it, Leah, she goaded herself silently. You're annoyed because the man hasn't made a pass at you. You don't care if he doesn't see you as an individual. But your feminine ego demands that he see you as a woman. And that, may I say, is totally unworthy of you.

She tried to tell herself that she was relieved that he didn't notice her femininity. And logically, she knew she wouldn't even be thinking along these lines if the dreams hadn't made her take a closer look at him. They had forced her to accept him as a human being as well as her boss. She had begun to see that Paul Gregory wasn't the one-dimensional, characterless creature she had wanted him to be. He might not be the man in her dreams, but now she knew he was very definitely a man.

A man who didn't find her particularly attractive, she added silently. Even if it wasn't logical, even if it wasn't worthy of her, that fact bothered her more than she cared to think about.

Leah's smile was slightly acid. She would be in a terrible predicament if he ever decided to press for a more personal relationship, because then she would have to find a diplomatic way of turning him down.

But at least he could have had enough sensitivity to give her the opportunity of telling him no, she thought with total disregard for logic.

"Well?"

She looked up to find him staring at her in irritation. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "What did you say?"

"I asked you to come to my office before eleven tomorrow so we can discuss your impressions of the two projects." He spoke slowly and carefully, so that even someone of her limited intelligence could understand.