“Yeah, I get to see you. I can’t wait.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“I’m excited about the video launch, too.” He laughed again. “I wish I could see you tonight, but I’m taking a red-eye into JFK. Plan on dinner tomorrow, though.”
“Can Cary come? I invited him to the video launch already. You two know each other, so I figured you wouldn’t mind. Too much, anyway.”
He snorted. “You don’t need a cockblocker, Eva. I can restrain myself.”
The cab pulled over in front of the Crossfire and the driver stopped the meter. I pushed cash through the Plexiglas slot and slid out, leaving the door open for the guy rushing over to hop in. “I thought you liked Cary.”
“I do, but not as much as I like having you to myself. How about we compromise and agree that Cary comes to the launch and you come to dinner alone?”
“All right.” I figured it wouldn’t hurt to make the situation easier for Gideon to deal with by picking a restaurant he owned. “How about I make the reservation?”
“Awesome.”
“I’ve got to run. I’m just getting to work.”
“Text me your address, so I know where to pick you up.”
“Will do.” I spun through the revolving door and headed toward the turnstiles. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“I’m looking forward to it. See you around five.”
Tucking my phone away, I entered the nearest open elevator. When I got upstairs and was buzzed through the glass security doors, I was greeted by Megumi’s phone thrust in my face.
“Can you believe this?” she asked.
I pulled back enough to bring the screen into focus. “Three missed calls from Michael.”
“I hate guys like him,” she complained. “Hot and cold and all over the place. They want you until they have you, then they want something else.”
“So tell him that.”
“Really?”
“Straight up. You could just avoid his calls, but that’ll drive you crazy. Don’t agree to meet with him, though. Having sex with him again would be bad.”
“Right.” Megumi nodded. “Sex is bad, even when it’s really good.”
Laughing, I headed back to my cubicle. I had other things to do besides referee someone else’s love life. Mark was juggling several accounts at once, with three campaigns rolling into the final stages. Creatives were at work and mock-ups were slowly making their way across his desk. That was my favorite part—seeing all the strategizing come together.
By ten o’clock, Mark and I were deep into debating the various approaches to a divorce attorney’s ad campaign. We were trying to find the right mix of sympathy for a difficult time in a person’s life and the most prized qualities of a lawyer—the ability to be cunning and ruthless.
“I’m never going to need one of these,” he said, somewhat out of the blue.
“No,” I replied, once my brain caught up to the fact that he was talking about divorce attorneys. “You never will. I’m dying to congratulate Steven at lunch. I’m really so thrilled for you two.”
Mark’s grin exposed his slightly crooked teeth, which I thought were cute. “I’ve never been happier.”
It was nearing eleven and we’d switched to a guitar manufacturer’s campaign when my desk phone rang. I ran out to my cubicle to grab it and had my usual greeting cut off by a squeal.
“Oh my God, Eva! I just found out we’re both going to be at that Six-Ninths thing tomorrow!”
“Ireland?”
“Who else?” Gideon’s sister was so excited, she sounded younger than her seventeen years. “I love Six-Ninths. Brett Kline is so freakin’ hot. So is Darrin Rumsfeld. He’s the drummer. He’s fine as hell.”