Kiss of Fashion

Chapter 1

The coronary started in Megan Bell’s chest while an ulcer wrenched her stomach. Or it might have been a brain tumor. Considering she’d been called a hypochondriac in the past, it could be anything.

She watched her old boss take his last walk to the elevator. Meg’s heart tightened even more. Mr. Torrey had been her friend and mentor, letting her shine behind the scenes while he took the bows in the limelight. She preferred it that way, but now had to fend for herself with some new guy.

Do you know you have the most adorable face I’ve ever seen? she heard.

She eased her gaze toward the client while sitting in her cubicle near Mr. Torrey’s old office. This client was so slimy, but she knew to bite her lip and not say a word out of the ordinary. Even though she was a professional, she was a New Yorker, and this man was begging her to slam her fist into his mouth from some of his earlier comments. If only he wasn’t a client…

She tossed back her long hair and took a deep breath. I can tell the new boss you’re in. And your name again? She’d tried to erase it from her mind, even though his name was on Mr. Torrey’s schedule, which sat in front of her. She also wanted this guy to know she wasn’t impressed with him one bit.

Ethan Washington. His gaze and smile moved toward her chest. I work at a modeling agency, where we represent the big top models such as Anastasia, Calliope, and many others.

Top models? And you called me adorable? What was he smoking?

Ethan lifted his gaze to her face as his fingers touched her arm, his brown eyes framed by his curly brown hair. You’re absolutely beautiful. How about you come to work for me instead of staying in this dungeon?

He seemed like the type to film porn. He wasn’t trustworthy and she wasn’t about to pose nude for this guy or anyone. She backed away from his hand. I’m no top model.

Neither were Ana or Calliope when they came to see me. He reached out and stroked her cheek, his fingers feeling like snakeskin. You have more natural beauty than they ever did. I love brunettes, and with your ice blue eyes, you’re quite beautiful, in a girl-next-door type of way.

Nope. He probably just wanted a one-night stand and she certainly wasn’t that type. Ethan Washington was slimy, making her skin crawl.

She moved away from his fingers and checked the monitor. Will you look at that? We’ve just gotten an email. Our new boss’ name is Brendan Johnson and he should be here—

Welcome, Mr. Johnson, the personnel director said in his typical dramatic fashion. The director exited Mr. Torrey’s empty office as another man headed toward him. The personnel director shook the new man’s hand, smiling as if he’d just won the lottery. Everything’s in order just like you wanted. No request is too big for you. Would you like coffee or tea, or something stronger to drink?

The tall medium blond-haired man with striking blue eyes appeared dumbfounded. No, I just want to get to work.

I knew you’d be a team player. The personnel director chuckled as he nodded toward Ethan. "This man had a meeting…I mean has a meeting with you right away. He’s representing Anastasia, I mean Ana, the top model, to run with the newest ad for our company."

What’s she promoting? Brendan asked.

The personnel director leaned closer. Lingerie. Thongs, especially. But only in markets that can handle such things without viewers rebelling. His whisper wasn’t even close to quiet. Meg wanted to roll her eyes from the way the man’s eyebrows danced.

Brendan motioned for Ethan. I’ll see you right now.

Yes sir. Ethan grabbed Meg’s hand, lifting it to his lips. I’d like a secretary taking notes, and this one’s my favorite. He winked, making Meg want to hurl. Or was that a stomach ulcer she was sure was forming, just from Ethan’s aftershave?

Her thoughts made her almost sound as if she was a hypochondriac, like she’d once been called in high school. That couldn’t be true, could it?

Meg extracted her fingers from Ethan’s grip, making a mental note to wash her hand. Germs from scaly snakes weren’t her friend.

Brendan studied Meg’s face before turning toward Ethan. I thought she was with you. She looks like a model.

No, she works for you, for now, Ethan said. I’d like her to join us.

I see. Brendan’s left eyebrow rose. Miss…

Bell. Meg got to her feet. Megan Bell.

Well, Megan, it looks like you have a job to do. She headed toward the room, but Brendan stopped her when she got closer, his mouth moving toward her ear. Don’t accept his job.

Huh?

We’ll talk later. Just take notes and we’ll talk after this meeting.

Meg nodded, glancing back at the client. As Ethan smiled, he winked suddenly. Her imaginary ulcer spewed out daggers, piercing the lining of her stomach, or so she imagined. He was only after wanted one thing, which wasn’t just to hire her. If she knew some sort of martial arts move, just to prove she wasn’t a plaything, she could put him in his place.

Meg followed her new boss into his office, accompanied by Ethan. She kept glancing at him, to make sure his hands stayed away from her.

Brendan stopped short, staring at the overflowing desk. I don’t like this one bit.

Like what? she asked.

The desk. He picked up the waste can, and with one swoosh of his arm, emptied all the papers from the desk into it. Much better. He turned toward Ethan, motioning toward the huge conference table on the left side of the room. Won’t you have a seat?

Meg was appalled, studying the empty desk. But sir, all billing and appointments were in that pile. Mr. Torrey had a system.

Not my system and not my bills or appointments. Nope, clean slate. He sat down across from Ethan. Now come over here and have a seat.

She blew out a sigh and headed toward the table. After pulling out a chair beside where Ethan was seated, she began to sit down. At least she’d get to see out the windows when the meeting got boring.

"Beside me," Brendan bellowed.

Meg jumped out of the seat in terror.

His jaw tightened. Don’t they teach you people anything in the secretarial pool?

She swallowed hard. Sir?

Sit beside me. He pulled out a chair. Over here. He addressed Ethan, his face exhibiting frustration. I’m sorry for the delay, but give me a minute here.

Meg got up from her seat, took her pad of paper and pen, and headed to the other side of the table so she could see the office doors. She didn’t like this new boss one bit. He might be eye candy, but good-looking men were usually the worst kind of boss. As soon as she had a break, she was calling the temp agency to see if another job had come available.

She sat down beside Brendan, shook back her hair, and turned to see him. Is this better, or would you like me moving an inch to the right, or maybe a tad to the left?

Brendan raised his eyebrows. Insubordination gets you nowhere.

She narrowed her eyes, opened her pad of paper, and clicked her pen more than once, checking the tip.

Problem? Brendan asked.

No, but this company pen’s been giving me problems… She shot him a dirty look and looked down over him, timing it perfectly so he’d get the message. …and doesn’t measure up.

He looked like he was going to laugh, but bit his lips instead. I see. His attention turned toward Ethan. Now, what did you want to meet with me about? I’ve just been given this job and have no idea what’s going on yet.

Ethan continued to stare at Meg. I want her to tell you.

Meg’s face heated up. Me? I’m just taking notes.

You know what’s going on here, right? Brendan sat back in his chair with a smirk, turned, and stared at her. Tell us, Megan, what is this meeting about?

Well, sir, you can call me Meg.

"Fine, Miss Bell, what’s this meeting about?"

Miss Bell. Right. He was just a rotten person.

She blew out a breath, making her hair blow upward, and watched the two men in front of her. Mr. Torrey was supposed to design a television ad for women’s lingerie using the famous top model, Anastasia. The ad would be tested on premium channels, because of the sensitivity of the product. They wanted to use a remote location for the shoot.

Remote? Brendan turned toward Ethan. Not in our studios? Why is that?

Ana wants rustic. She thinks it shows off her blonde hair more.

Brendan leaned closer. Is she calling the shots?

Ethan still stared at Meg, but talked to Brendan. Yes. Ana’s in charge, per her contract. She’s beautiful and demands a seven-digit salary, so yes, she’s calling the shots. He pointed toward Meg’s hair. Who do you use for your beauty salon?

Beauty salon? Hardly. The place was a glorified barbershop.

She backed off slightly. "Cheap ’do’s, why?"

They do a fabulous job. He rested his head on his palm with his elbow on the table. Can you take me there on our next date?

Next date? Her eyes rounded. I don’t think so. I don’t date clients.

He darted his eyes toward Brendan and returned to Meg’s eyes. Ah, but would you date your boss?

She glanced at Brendan then looked back at Ethan. No, sir. Strict rule.

Ethan’s gaze inched toward Brendan. I want her to work for me.

Meg crossed her arms. Then I definitely don’t date my bosses.

Brendan ignored her comment and watched Ethan. Who, Meg? You want her to work for you?

Yes. She’s perfect. I’d put her on my arm and attract the right people who will pay me millions of dollars just from having a trophy girlfriend.

What a stupid idea.

Brendan seemed speechless for a moment. I think that’s her decision. I certainly can’t pawn her off on a client like that. She’s not a slave to our company.

You’ve got that right, Meg murmured.

Miss Bell? Brendan turned completely toward her. Did you have something to say?

She donned as innocent a look as possible. No sir. What else would you like to know about the television ad for the thong?

Well, probably everything, but you can fill me in later. Over lunch.

Lunch, sir? What was wrong with these men? Were they insane?

His sudden stare bored a hole through her. Yes, it seems we need to go over the employee handbook so you know your place in meetings.

She felt her shoulders sag as she lowered her head. Yes sir. She was so out of there, as soon as she could get another job—unless she died of a heart attack or toe fungus before that.

I think this meeting’s over. Brendan extended his arm toward the slimy snake client. I’m sure it’ll be fine to find a rustic place for Ana. When is she coming to see us?

Tomorrow. Ethan shook Brendan’s hand. Or this afternoon. It depends on her current assignment, walking the runway for one of your competitors.

Brendan nodded slowly as he let go of Ethan’s hand. I see. Send her to me, and we’ll talk.

Meg wanted to jump in, but bit her lips. She just hoped Ana did her ‘talking’ outside the office so she wouldn’t have to hear them moaning. She’d read all the gossip in the tabloids about Ana’s way with men.

Both men stood and Brendan ushered Ethan toward the door, with Meg following close behind.

It’s good doing business with you, Brendan said. Bring Ana back any time, and we’ll have a meeting with her.

Sure will, Ethan said. But only if Meg’s in the meeting. He winked at her, took her hand, and lifted it to his lips in a wet kiss. Until we meet again.

She was ready to deck him. No upstanding New Yorker would put up with this, and since she lived in Queens, she certainly wasn’t anyone’s puppet. However, she also knew her place, so she pulled her hand from his, clenched her teeth and squared her shoulders, but kept quiet. This pipsqueak of a man was worthless in her eyes, and she was about to make him realize it.

Give me a call. Brendan opened the door and Ethan walked out.

After she wiped the back of her hand on her dress, Meg started to follow, ready to take Ethan down. Spit on her hand was abuse.

Brendan grabbed her arm, stopping her. Not so fast.

But it’s not lunchtime yet. She pushed up her sleeves, ready for a fight. Plus, I have a job to do with that man.

He pulled her back into the room. No, you don’t. He’s a client. Let him go. Besides, I want you to type a letter for me.

Sir?

Yes. You’re my secretary for the day and have to answer to my beck and call.

That meant subservience to him. He sounded more and more like a dictator.

Meg rolled her eyes and sighed. But I have work on my desk. Plus, she wanted to catch up to Ethan to set a few things straight.

Brendan shook his head in determination. I’m giving you more. With his hand still on her arm, Brendan closed the door and led her to his desk. You do know how to type, right?

How nasty was he? She cleared her throat and donned her best professional demeanor. Yes, sir. I went to secretarial school and have a bachelor’s degree in business.

He dropped his hand from her arm. And you’re a secretary?

Yes, because it pays the bills. She crossed her arms. Do you want me to type it on your computer or write it now and type later?

Brendan seemed to have something up his sleeve. I think typing it right now is a good idea. I want it to go to the boss so he’ll know right away what I’m thinking.

Meg headed to the desk, sat down in front of the computer, and turned it on. Within minutes, the monitor came to life and she brought up a common word processor.

Brendan sat down on the other side of the desk and watched her, a stupid grin covering his face. You ready?

Yes, sir.

He put his feet up on the desk, looking up at the ceiling as he thought. Dear Mr. Adams.

She spun the chair toward him. The big boss?

He lowered his eyes to hers. Yes, I think it needs to go to him instead of the personnel director. This is company business and the big guy needs to hear this.

Fine.

She turned back to the computer and typed as he dictated.

He continued, his eyes directed at the ceiling again. I’ve just come from a very important meeting with the agent of Anastasia, and it seems that he’s made one of our secretaries an offer of employment.

Meg stopped typing and stared at Brendan. He wasn’t serious, so this really isn’t necessary.

Brendan lowered his feet then leaned up toward Meg. It most certainly is necessary. If I’m going to have to work with you, I expect you to toe the line. Keep typing and add, ‘However, this certain secretary has an attitude problem and would be a valuable asset if she’d learn to keep that attitude in check.’

Uh-oh. Meg lowered her head and kept typing. She’d done it again. Her big mouth got in the way of her job, and she knew her days were numbered—unless she died of a parasite attack before that. She hadn’t traveled to South America or gotten into any pond, so the chance of that was practically nil.

Brendan continued. I’d like to keep an eye on Megan Bell, the secretary in question, and give you my findings in one week as to how she’s progressing. If I feel it necessary, I’ll let you know if we can negotiate a deal with Mr. Washington as to his offer of employment for Megan, if she pushes too far and becomes unemployed with Adams’ Ultimate Fashions.

It was only getting worse. She kept typing, feeling the tears in her eyes. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of winning, yet was ready to turn in her resignation before she even had another job.

Sincerely, Brendan Johnson, director of advertising services.

She sucked up her tears and narrowed her eyes. She couldn’t wait to call that temp agency again. She was willing to take any job. Even working in the sewers smelled sweeter than working with this guy. Is that all? she asked.

Yes, I think so. Print it out and put a copy on my desk, then get ready for lunch. He stood up and towered over the desk while she clicked on the print button.

She stood up, took the paper from the printer as it spit out, and handed it to him. He grinned while she grabbed her things and walked away.

Ten minutes, he yelled.

Ten minutes. Just about enough time to have a heart attack.

~~~~~~

Chapter 2

Meg shut the door behind her, dropped her things on her desk, and immediately phoned the temp agency. Jamie, it’s Meg. Anything yet?

No, the woman on the other end of the line said. You’re overqualified for everything. Why not work up a résumé and try to get a job in your field?

Because I don’t have experience, Meg all but whispered. No one will touch me.

I’ll keep looking.

Thanks. Meg hid the side of her mouth with her hand. I have a new psycho boss, she said in a low tone.

I understand.

Meg ended the call, grabbed her purse, and ran into the ladies’ room. While leaning up against the wall near the sink, she dabbed at her eyes. No one had ever treated her like that before, but she also knew she deserved it. She should’ve checked the new guy out before giving him attitude and should’ve played it much differently. Granted, he wasn’t much older than she was, but he did deserve respect.

Meg stopped her tears, washed her face, and reapplied her makeup. While doing so, a co-worker from the secretarial pool, or ‘The Pool,’ entered the bathroom.

Problem? Kimberly asked.

Meg knew the gossip mill ran rampant, and there was no way she’d tell the nosey woman anything. Not at all.

Kimberly leaned closer. You look like you’ve been crying.

Nope, Meg said, sniffling. Just a cold. She felt like she was having a coronary, and was sure of it from the feeling in her chest. However, she always did overreact for medical things. Maybe it was a brain tumor from the pain in her nose. Or pneumonia.

That’s not what we heard in The Pool. We heard you got reamed out good by the new guy because you made fun of him.

Meg looked up from the mirror, her mascara in her hand. Who said that?

Rayanne. She was walking by the office and heard the whole thing. So were you fired or what?

Not fired, Meg said. As a matter of fact, the new guy is taking me to lunch. To read her the riot act, no doubt, but Kimberly didn’t need to know that.

An inner-office romance, huh? Kimberly asked. They’re not allowed.

I know. Meg finished with her mascara. It’s a working lunch. She touched up her blush and dabbed on some lipstick.

But he is cute. Kimberly just wouldn’t let it go, now would she?

Go for it. And good luck, too.

Maybe it was a stomach ulcer. No, it certainly had to be something more serious. It was probably appendicitis and she’d keel over dead in a minute. However, she had no related pain, so she ruled that out.

I just might. Kimberly shook back her hair in the mirror. Considering I’m the prettiest one in The Pool, I’m sure he’d pick me.

Meg’s face registered major confusion, watching Kimberly in the mirror. Prettiest one in The Pool? Who was she kidding? There was no way she was even close to being pretty, with her overbite, big bony nose, and no chin. Also, three-hundred pound women weren’t pretty, by model definition. Ethan would howl in laughter at Kimberly’s comment.

Meg put her things back in her purse, and just as she headed out of the restroom, she saw Brendan leaning against the wall beside the door. Have a nice chat in there? he asked.

Why?

He took her arm, guiding her away from the door. We’ll talk. Get your coat and let’s go.

Meg approached her cubicle amidst stares from the other members of The Pool, grabbed her coat, and joined Brendan.

His eyes were glued to her face, as if he was giving her a message. No, put your coat on. I’ll wait.

Meg looked around at the people all staring. Every eye was on her, so she decided to make the best of it. You’re very caring about your employees. She put her purse on the floor, and pulled on one arm of her coat. He helped her with her other arm, making her stand in awe of him, almost embarrassed.

Yes, I do care about my employees. He picked up her purse from the floor and handed it to her, before he leaned closer. Now if you’re done giving these people a show, we can go to lunch.

Yes, sir. She yanked her purse to her shoulder. He put his hand on the small of her back, directing her toward the elevator.

As soon as they got there, he pressed the down button. What did Kimberly have to say to you in the bathroom?

Meg snapped her head toward him in surprise. How do you know her name?

I spent the morning going over personnel files. I know everyone in The Pool. That’s what they call it, right?

Yes, sir.

The elevator doors opened and they entered the empty space. Meg stepped away from him, eliciting a grin from his face. Are you scared of me? he asked.

No, sir. She pressed the lobby button, wishing he’d go by himself—right through an imaginary hole in the floor, the whole way out the door of the building. Maybe she could invent such a button and push him into it.

As soon as the door shut, Brendan stared up at the numbers on the wall. What did Kimberly say? Her picture was on file.

Meg crossed her arms. There was no getting out of this conversation. She wanted to know if I was fired, because they heard I made fun of you in a meeting. She also thinks you’re cute, and she’s the prettiest one in The Pool, so she’s sure she can win you over.

He turned his head toward her, his eyebrows lifted in surprise. Kimberly? The prettiest one? He bit his lips, appearing as if he was holding back laughter.

Yep. There you go. I think she’s single, too. She winked at him, crossing her arms even tighter, while her face returned to anger. This guy was nothing more than a player with a big head full of power.

Inner-office romances are frowned upon at Adams’ Ultimate Fashions, however, if done properly, no one would ever know. He moved closer to Meg, staring up at the numbers.

She inched away.

Besides, she’s definitely not my type. He just had to keep pressing the issue.

Uh-huh. She took another step away from him, wishing the elevator wall would disappear so she could put more space between them.

He chuckled once again, moving closer. "You are scared of me."

No, sir. She clenched her jaw. It’s called respect. Not only did Ethan need to be punched in the mouth, but it seemed her new boss needed some dental work as well.

Right. Respect. He chuckled to himself, but it wasn’t funny in the least.

The elevator doors opened when they reached the bottom floor. Meg stepped out onto the marble, just trying to get away from the ogre beside her. However, when she did, she slid right across the floor in her heels, noticing the ‘wet floor’ sign as she went.

Brendan caught her and righted her to her feet. His eyes met hers while holding her in his embrace. The floor’s wet.

Uh…I see that. He was so attractive and his eyes so blue, her heart beat double time and her stomach did loop-de-loops. She couldn’t be falling for him, literally, could she? He was a mean man. She probably had something like clubfoot or maybe she had an inner ear problem and that’s why she lost her balance around him.

With a grin, he took her elbow, helping her across the rest of the floor. You okay?

Yes, sir. She had to keep up the professional exterior, even though she wanted to do otherwise. He was so tender at that moment, she imagined what he’d be like if she dated him.

What was she thinking? This man was a brute. Then again, women always fell for the bad boys. That’s what she’d seen in the past. And this guy made bad boys appear like Santa Claus.

~~~~~~

Chapter 3

As they headed out the front door, a biting wind howled while bits of snow blew into Meg’s face. She turned up the collar on her old coat and walked beside Brendan. As he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, he pulled her head toward him and leaned down to her ear. It’s a cold one for the end of January.

Yes, sir. Being that close to him wasn’t cold at all…it was majorly hot. She had to put any attraction to him out of her mind. He wasn’t making it any easier since he held her so close to him. She kept reminding herself that he was just like the bad boys from her high school days, and not a man to get to know. Those types never grew up, always thinking of themselves first. No siree. Bad boys weren’t for her. She was looking for a man and not a boy, reciting that over and over again in her head.

We’re just going around the corner, he said. I promise it won’t be long.

Yes, sir. Every time she said the word ‘sir,’ she replaced it in her head with an unkind thought—words only spoken in her neighborhood. It made her smile, thinking of the different meanings of the word, just to keep him in the ‘bad boy’ box in her head.

She reeled herself back in, because age-wise, he was an adult. And this man could determine if she’d be homeless or not.

She really needed a different day job. The temp agency was taking way too long.

They entered the expensive restaurant and waited for the host, who was a squirrelly-looking man with a fake mustache and greased back hair. Welcome to Chez Ralph, home of the best French hamburger in the city. Table for two?

Brendan nodded while Meg turned to him with a puzzled look. French hamburger? What was a French hamburger? As if he could read her thoughts, he shrugged his shoulder. At least he wasn’t an idiot, falling for every scam out there.

They both removed their coats, hanging them in the foyer. When Mr. Fake Mustache was ready with the menus, they followed him to a table in the middle of the restaurant.

We have a special today on spaghetti burgers, if you’re interested, Mr. Fake Mustache said.

What was a spaghetti burger? Meg grimaced, just thinking about it.

No, we’d like steak. Brendan chuckled at Meg.

Steak? Meg asked. No way. I’ll just have water. I can’t afford steak.

But I can. Brendan pulled out her chair and helped her up to the table. What game was he playing? One minute he wanted to fire her, and the next, he was nice? Typical bad boy. He must want something.

Since she wasn’t sure what he was doing, she decided to wait and see what he said next.

Brendan ordered them each a glass of wine, and Meg made a mental note not to drink it. She wasn’t good around alcohol and had a tendency to make a fool out of herself.

A waiter approached the table. What’ll it be for the good-looking couple?

We’re not a couple, Meg said. He’s—

With you. Brendan stared at her, as if to shut her up. Don’t deny it.

Huh? Deny what?

He turned toward the waiter, handing him the menus. "Two steaks, medium rare, with baked potatoes on the side. Ranch on the side for the salad for both of