Jacquie D’Alessandro - A Sure Thing?

Book 27 in the Wrong Bed series, 2003

Winning a one hundred million dollar ad campaign. Now that would be one hell of a Christmas present.

Adam Terrell, CEO of Maxximum Advertising, pressed the button to disconnect his call, rose from the chair behind his curved granite desk, and barely refrained from indulging in an undignified end-zone type victory dance.

The chance for Maxximum to represent ARC Software in its new ad campaign was definitely not a bad way to start off the day. The account wasn't yet in the bag, but as he'd just learned during his phone conversation with Jack Witherspoon, ARC's CEO, Maxximum was one of the agencies on the short list.

"And it's my job to make sure Maxximum is the only agency left on that list," Adam murmured to himself.

Unable to remain still, he crossed the wide expanse of pale blue carpet to his huge office windows. From the vantage point of his tenth-floor, Madison Avenue office, he stared down at the busy street below. Pedestrians, their collars pulled up against the blustery winter cold and lingering snow flurries, trudged along the busy Manhattan street, many laden down with colorful holiday shopping bags, vaguely reminding Adam that only ten days remained until Christmas. There was no doubt about what he wanted sitting under his tree-a contract with Jack Witherspoon's signature.

But since Maxximum wasn't the only firm vying for the account, he needed an edge. Something to make Maxximum stand out. And he didn't have much time. Witherspoon wanted an ad campaign in place before his next shareholders meeting. Adam needed his best and brightest on this.

Two names instantly popped into his head. Matt Davidson and Jillian Taylor. Both were openly ambitious, exceptionally talented and creative, and able to focus on their jobs with single-minded concentration and determination. And both were highly competitive-especially with each other. They circled each other like two wary fighters in the ring, and had done so since Matt joined Maxximum a year ago and promptly landed the Strattford Furniture account-a company Jilly had been courting for several weeks. The gauntlet had been thrown, and over the past year, Adam had watched with calculated interest how Jilly and Matt constantly tried to outdo each other. Sure, their rivalry brought tension to the office, but who cared? It also brought results, with Maxximum the big winner. If Jilly couldn't bring in a particular client, then Matt could, and visa versa.

"Jilly and Matt," he mused. "Yeah" If he sent them both after ARC, no doubt one of them would land the account. And if there was one thing Adam liked, especially where hundred-million-dollar accounts were concerned, it was a sure thing.

Of course, Jilly and Matt wouldn't like it. Last summer Adam had purposely pitted them against each other for the Lone Star Steaks account, certain that one of them would win it for Maxximum. And Jilly had succeeded, with a brilliant campaign fired by her determination to beat her nemesis.

Adam had shrugged off their displeasure at his tactics.

Sure, it was devious. But the only way to survive in the cutthroat world of advertising was to wield a sharper machete than the next guy. He sure as hell hadn't built Maxximum from a start-up company to one of the best ad agencies in New York in under ten years without a little bloodshed. But perhaps the smartest strategy would be to make sure Jilly and Matt didn't realize they'd been squared off against each other again until it was too late

One corner of Adam's mouth lifted. After crossing to his desk, he picked up the phone. A little bit more blood was about to be shed.

Matt Davidson exited Adam Terrel's office, closed the heavy oak door behind him and awarded himself a mental high-five. Yes! He'd waited a long time for a chance like this, and he had full confidence in his creative ability to land the ARC account. Goodbye, cubicle-hellooo multi-windowed corner office. And hellooo promotion, raise, bonus and perks, too.

His mind already buzzing with ideas, he made his way toward the desk of Adam's secretary, Debra. Per Adam's instructions, Matt needed to get the number of Maxximum's travel agent from Debra, then book himself a room at Chateau Fontaine for this weekend. Adam had already arranged a suite for Jack Witherspoon at the Chateau-one of Long Island's most exclusive resorts, built on the property of the Fontaine Winery-the perfect place to schmooze wine aficionado Jack. Jack had even cleared his calendar for Monday, affording Matt an extra day to reel in his fish. Between the winery, the five-star restaurant, wine tastings, cigar bar, spa, indoor pool and luxurious rooms, Matt didn't doubt for a minute that ARC would sign with Maxximum.

When he arrived at her desk, Debra was on a call. She smiled, held up her index finger to indicate she'd only be a minute, then returned her attention to her computer screen. Matt nodded and leaned his back against the white marble pillar near Debra's desk. A cheerful holiday song lauding the joys of a winter wonderland filtered softly from the recessed stereo speakers. Casting his gaze around, Matt noted the blink of twinkling lights adorning the six-foot Christmas tree in the corner near the bank of windows, a colorful reminder that time was running short to complete his Christmas shopping. He still needed to pick up a DVD player for his sister and brother-in-law and a few stocking stuffers, but at least the Barbie Dream Mansion for his niece and the surprise he'd spent weeks planning for Mom and Dad were done deals. God knows his parents deserved something special after what they'd recently weathered. Mom's test results were expected this weekend-he prayed the news would be good and the dark cloud of worry that had hung over the entire family for these past weeks would disappear. He refused to consider any other alternative. Yup, this was going to be a great Christmas. Certainly better than last year

"Sorry to keep you waiting." Debra's voice pulled him from his reverie. Her blue-eyed gaze glided over him in a slow, top to bottom ogle-an ogle he pretended not to notice. Probably he should have been flattered by her obvious interest, but in spite of the fact that Debra was attractive and smart, she didn't kindle the least reaction in him, which was just as well. Even if her flirtations had set him on fire, he wouldn't hesitate to douse those flames with a bucket of cold water. He'd learned the hard way not to fish off the company pier, and it was a lesson he had no intention of suffering through again.

"What can I do for you, Matt?" She pursed her full lips and gave him a look that clearly indicated she'd be happy to do anything he wanted.

He offered her an easy smile, making sure he was merely polite and not overly friendly. "I need the number for the corporate travel agent."

"Sure." She flipped through her Rolodex, copied the information onto a sticky note, then handed it to him. "Several of us are going to Little Italy for dinner at Carmine's after work tonight." Her voice held suggestive undertones that made it sound more like they were going to a porn flick. "Would you like to come?"

Oh boy. Keeping his expression bland, he shook his head. "Thanks, but I already have plans."

"A date?"

Probably he should say yes-with my fiance and put an end to her interest, but he no longer had a fiance, and he didn't like to lie. After having been the victim of painful lies, he hated being lied to-and that being the case, his conscience balked at telling untruths. Besides, his dad had always told him if you tell the truth, you don't have to remember what you've lied about.