Must Like Kids. Jackie Braun

      “Have a seat.” She motioned again to one of the chairs angled in front of her desk and returned to where she’d been, with one hip on the edge, preferring the height advantage it gave her. He had to look up to her now. “In addition to rebutting the information provided in the original article—”

      “That’s been done,” he interrupted.

      “Not by me, it hasn’t.” Julia had read the follow-up article. She’d probably been in the minority there. His response to the original article certainly hadn’t gone viral. “As I was saying, in addition to my rebuttal and some well-placed stories in other media outlets, both traditional and digital, we need to find, or if need be, manufacture, as many opportunities as possible in the coming weeks for you to be photographed and filmed with children.”

      His eyes narrowed. “What children?”

      “I don’t suppose you are close to any? Nephews? Nieces?” she asked. Thanks to her older sister, Eloise, Julia had one of each. It would be great if Alec had an actual relationship with the little ones who would be used in the photo opportunities she had planned. When her question was met with stony silence, she added, “Leave that to me.”

      “You used the word manufacture.”

      “We can’t expect invitations to such events to fall into our laps in a timely fashion. That’s why I propose Best For Baby hold some kind of community event here in Chicago to start and perhaps locations elsewhere around the country if I feel that’s necessary. It will

      coincide with your One Big Family campaign.”

      “So, what? You’re going to have me kissing babies like a politician on the campaign trail?” He looked more appalled than amused.

      “If need be. Do you have a problem with that?” She wanted to know right then how much of a battle she was in for.

      A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I’ll reserve judgment.”

      Julia straightened and went behind her desk, where she picked up a spreadsheet. Handing it to Alec, she said, “These are some of the events I have in mind. The two highlighted in green have been confirmed.” They’d been easy to pin down, since the organizers had been desperate for corporate sponsorship, which is what they’d been promised in return. “The ones in yellow are tentative. There will be more, but this is a start.”

      He barely spared the paper a glance before saying, “I’ll check my schedule and get back to you.”

      “Actually, you’ll clear your schedule, and I’ll get back to you with talking points and suggested attire.”

      “You’re going to pick out my clothing?” He rose to his feet. He didn’t look happy at the prospect. A lot of clients, especially those who came to her under duress, didn’t like being told how to dress. She couldn’t blame them, but that didn’t change anything.

      “You can wear whatever you want to the office or on your own time,” she told him. “But for these events, yes, I’ll be picking out your clothes. What you wear needs to help convey the message we want to send.”

      “What messages are my clothes sending?”

      She glanced down and swallowed an inappropriate sigh. She managed to sound completely professional when she replied, “They tell me you take a great deal of care with your appearance and that you have the means to buy what you want, regardless of the price tag.”

      “And that’s bad?”

      “Most of the people buying Best For Baby’s products can’t relate to your lifestyle, Alec.”

      He folded his arms over his chest. “Are you calling me a snob?”

      “I’m not calling you anything.”

      “But that’s what you think?”

      “What I think isn’t the issue here. That’s the signal you will send if we’re not careful. It’s all about image.”

      She braced for further argument, but he said, “You’re the expert.”

      “Yes, I am.”

      Julia wasn’t fooled by his easy capitulation. She and Alec McAvoy were going to butt heads a lot before their association ended. In a perverse way, she was looking forward to it.

      TWO

      It was like playing a chess match, Alec thought. Or maybe a game of blink, waiting for the other person to close their eyes first. It was a bit galling when he was the one who did.

      Julia Stillwell was a surprise. And not just because she was five and half feet of tidy curves tucked into a creamy silk blouse and conservative navy pencil skirt. She was pretty, nonthreatening. The girl next door. She disarmed her opponents with a cherubic smile, dimples included, that took one’s mind off her waspish sting. But the real kicker was the unsettling amount of attraction he felt for her. It had landed like a prizefighter’s punch to the midsection the moment he’d walked through her door. He was still struggling to regain his footing.

      Fifteen minutes into their meeting, she glanced at her watch—though he didn’t doubt for a moment that she already knew the exact time—and said, “I have to be going, but I’ll be in touch tomorrow morning.”

      “Hot date?” he asked, just to see if he could rile her. No one should be that composed. And, okay, he was curious, too.

      She didn’t look the least bit ruffled. In fact, the smile she sent him was relaxed and filled with humor. “Of a fashion.”

      What in the heck did that mean?

      A couple of pictures were propped on her desk, but from his position, Alec couldn’t make out their subject matter. Were they of her husband? No. He hadn’t noticed a ring on her finger, and he’d made a point of looking. A lover, then?

      Irked by his own curiosity more than by her evasive response, Alec said, “Isn’t it a little early to be knocking off for the day. It’s not even five o’clock.”

      Still standing, she bent and logged off the computer, but not before clicking on a file. On the credenza behind her, the printer fired to life and began spitting out pages.

      As she turned around to collect them, she asked, “How late do you work?”

      “Until six at least, seven on occasion.” In truth, he’d been known to stay past eight and was on a first-name basis with his building’s cleaning crew and the night security detail.

      “For a total of how many hours a week?”

      “Usually fifty to sixty.” Or, as had been the case the previous week, seventy-five.

      She shook her head. Her expression said, I thought so.

      “Well, I put in forty hours at my office. Never more than forty. I start my day early so that I can be out of here early.” She glanced at her watch again. “In fact, today I’ve stayed five minutes late. To accommodate you.”

      She tapped the papers she’d gathered into a neat pile and reached for the stapler. Her efficient movements were the perfect complement to her words.

      “Don’t you ever clock some overtime? I would think, given the urgency of my situation and what you are being paid to address it, that you would be happy to log a few extra hours here and there.”

      He’d hoped that would get a rise out of her, but he wasn’t successful. Not completely, anyway, although he did detect a slight edge to her tone when she told him, “I believe in balance. I have a life. In fact, my personal life has been known to take precedence over pulling in a paycheck when that’s what I feel is warranted.”

      “The perk of being your own boss?”

      “That’s right. I made a decision a long time ago that my children would come first.”

      “You have children?”