The Elliotts: Secret Affairs: The Forbidden Twin

She thought about her grandfather, how much she’d disappointed him. As a teenager she’d desperately wanted his attention, and he’d been totally focused on his business, but his disapproval of her dates meant he would at least communicate with her, if only to berate her. She was such a cliché, she thought.

“I always found the ‘wild-child’ tales interesting,” John continued, “because there was no hard evidence you were easy, just speculation, based on who you dated—and maybe how you dress in look-at-me outfits and move like a whirlwind, as if you always know where you’re going and who you are, which is very sexy. I’d say you pretty much made everyone wonder.”

“I’m not the one who arranged this tryst.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you, Scarlet. I thought you would want it as much as I did.”

“Believe it or not, sometimes I think about other people before my own needs.”

His gaze locked with hers. He studied her for a long, quiet moment, then he nodded slowly and stood. He ran a hand down her arm as he passed by.

“Good night,” he said. “Thank you for the dance.”

After the door closed quietly behind him she stood motionless, waiting for her world to return to normal.

She’d misread him, pure and simple. And maybe he’d misread her. It was her manufactured reputation that had driven him to take such a chance as to want to have sex with her on a conference room table with hundreds of people—her grandparents included—nearby.

Maybe he got a rush out of such clandestine moments.

She didn’t. She’d only gotten a rush out of him.

So where did that leave them now?

Six

On the Wednesday after the country club incident, John arrived a few minutes early for a three o’clock meeting with Finola Elliott at Charisma magazine. He wasn’t made to wait in the lobby but was escorted immediately to Fin’s office by an auburn-haired young woman named Jessie, who kept up a running commentary as they wove through the maze of cubicles. He learned she’d been raised in Colorado, was an unpaid intern and a roommate of a Charisma proofreader, Lanie Sinclair. And by the way Jessie eyed him curiously, he guessed she knew he’d been engaged to Summer.

He wished he could ask her which cubicle was Scarlet’s. If he could just look into her eyes, he’d know where things stood between them. They hadn’t spoken since the disaster at the club. In three days they were supposed to go on their first Woo U date.

Or were they?

Maybe his lesson had been only in how to ask a woman out, not the actual follow-through. Another question he needed answered.

Who would break the stalemate? Or had they already burned out? He wasn’t ready to end it. He wanted the whole month until Summer returned. Every last minute. And he wanted some of that in bed.

John wasn’t taken into Fin’s office but to the conference room attached to it. Several people were seated at the oval mahogany table—the editor in chief, Fin; her executive editor, Cade McMann; Bridget Elliott, the photo editor … and Scarlet.

He’d never been to a meeting with Scarlet in attendance before. Why would an assistant fashion editor be there?

John shook hands with Fin, Cade and Bridget. He met Scarlet’s gaze directly and nodded. She raised her brows. No clue there as to how she felt.

“I’m not going to beat around the bush, John,” Fin said. “I’m sure you’ve heard about the competition my father instituted.”

“I’m aware of the details.” Having just seen Maeve over the weekend, John realized how much Fin looked like her mother, although she had Patrick’s head—and drive—for business.

“I intend to win.” She leaned toward him, her body rigid. “But I can’t if you keep pulling ad revenue from my profits.”

“I’m responding to what my clients’ needs are, Fin.”

“We came up with an idea we’d like to toss out at you. Go ahead, Scarlet.”

Scarlet picked up a remote control. She gave him a quick look, all business, which might have worked had she been wearing a gray, pin-striped, baggy suit and her hair in a bun. Maybe. As it was, her shiny hair curled softly over her shoulders, and she wore a deep purple dress that clung to every shapely inch of her. His mind wandered ….

She brought up an image on the big-screen monitor on the wall. “Picture this as a feature article. We might call it ‘Trends,’ or something like that,” Scarlet said. “Ten to twelve photos of the hottest trends for each season, as we generally do. But this is an example of how we would incorporate your clients’ products.”

A hip blond model was seated at a bar in what looked to be a neighborhood pub. She wore an outfit meant to draw the magazine reader’s eye, but in her hand was a bottle of Crystal Crème soda. The juxtaposition of a soft drink being served at a bar would make the reader pay even more attention, he decided. Very clever.

“Product placement,” Scarlet said unnecessarily. “Here are a few more.”

Images flashed across the screen, each photo the superb quality that Charisma was known for, and each including a product of one of his clients, generally a food or drink item, easily integrated into the scene.

Cade pushed a folder toward John. “Price guides. You’ll find it cheaper than a full-page ad, of course, but a fair price, we think, for the value.”

Scarlet handed him a manila envelope. “Here’s a CD of each sample so you can pitch your clients with visuals. These are mock-ups, obviously. We’d have to work closely together, matching our focus for the article with your product for the layout. Some products will lend themselves easily, but some won’t. Some of these products have never been advertised in Charisma, like Crystal Crème. We think it opens a lot of new doors.”

“You know that once you start down this path, you won’t be able to go back,” John said, skimming the price sheets. “And you’ll be accused of selling out.”

“We’ve talked it over,” Cade answered. “Analyzed it. Had a few hearty debates, too. It’s no different from a television program or movie showcasing products.”

“It’s not as if it’s something new in the business,” John said. “But it is new for you. Something you’ve resisted because of the ethics involved.”

“It’s a new day,” Scarlet said. “A time for change.”

She’d parroted what she’d overheard him say to Patrick the past weekend.

“We ask one thing, John,” Fin said. “We want an exclusive. You don’t go to the other EPH magazines—or anyone else—asking for the same thing. Let us run with it first.”

John nodded. “Unless they ask. I can’t pass up reasonable business, either, Fin. And I want an exclusive, as well. You don’t offer this opportunity to anyone else for a few months, either.”

“Fair enough,” Fin said. “I’ve asked Scarlet to be your liaison on this project. Does that work for you?”

He didn’t dare look at Scarlet. “Sure.”

“She came up with a list of your clients whose products might be suitable for us.”

“That’s very competent of her.”

A momentary silence hung over the room, then Fin said coolly, “We’re pleased we found a way to keep your business at Charisma.”

“So am I.” And now he and Scarlet would work together as well as play together, if that was what they could call it. But this business relationship would extend beyond the month.

“If you have time to stay and talk with her now, we would appreciate it.”

“I do.”

“Good.” Finola rose, as did Cade and Bridget. “We’ll be in touch.”

The room emptied except for Scarlet and John, who sat across the wide table from each other.