Plain Jane's Texan. Jan Hudson
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years, but the agency where she worked was on the skids. She’d had some ideas for turning things around if she’d gotten the promotion. But now... well, if she didn’t make a move soon, her career would be in the toilet.
Creative director?
Twice her salary?
Talk about perfect timing. This could be—
Hold it, Eve, she told herself, laughing. This sounded too good to be true. There had to be a catch. It wasn’t the first time that Lottie had gotten her pumped up over some opportunity only to find that things weren’t nearly so terrific as Lottie had proclaimed.
Eve shrugged. But it wouldn’t hurt to check it out. She wouldn’t even mention it to her family yet. Fighting the urge to cross her fingers, she reached for the phone.
Two days later, Eve was in Dallas. She couldn’t believe her luck. Coleman-Walker was becoming well-known in the business as an innovative agency and a real up-and-coming contender. In fact, Lottie had sent her a couple of trade articles about the shop, and Eve had read them on the plane. If she’d been impressed with what she’d read, she was doubly impressed when she arrived.
From the minute she walked through the double doors and into the funky renovated factory, Eve knew that this would be a fantastic shop to work in. The place was alive. teeming with vitality. Unmistakable creative energy hummed in the air and bounced off the walls. She immediately caught the mood of the dozen or so people she spotted; she felt revved up and excited and broke into a grin when a guy on roller skates whizzed by. Godzilla would have croaked.
She loved the agency; she felt an immediate rapport with Bart Coleman who interviewed her. They talked nonstop for over an hour. Working for Coleman-Walker would be a dream come true. This was a sharp group. She ached to be a part of it.
When Bart said that the job was hers if she wanted it, she almost burst with excitement. She wanted to throw herself into his arms and yell, “I’ll take it! How much do I have to pay you to work here?” She managed to play it cool and promised to get back with him.
Once outside the building, she couldn’t hold in her excitement any longer. She threw back her head and shouted, “Yaaa-hooo!” When people turned to stare at her, she only laughed and waved and scooted around in a tight circle, pumping her arms and grinning.
No way could she turn this down. The gods had definitely smiled on her. This was the chance of a lifetime. Eve was convinced this was her destiny when she found a perfect place to live near the Dallas County line.
The elderly gentleman who owned the small farm, complete with a fixer-upper house, pecan trees, barn and chicken coop, had gone to live in a nursing home. His son had agreed to sell the property at a bargain if she would take the place “as is” and agree to care for the old gent’s beloved mule and aging milk cow. A teenager from down the road had been tending them and would probably be available to help Eve if she wanted to hire him.
Why not? What were another couple of animals? She agreed at once and signed the papers. Granted, the farmhouse was a bit run-down, but a little paint would do wonders for it. The barn and the fences were in good shape. Why, she might even get a horse. She’d always wanted a horse.
This was great. Life was good. She called Bart Coleman from the airport and accepted the job—on one condition. She needed help in transporting her animals to Texas.
Matt Crow sat in his big leather chair in downtown Dallas, ankles crossed, the heel of one boot resting on the massive desk in his office. He tossed paper wads into the wastebasket and stared at the framed eleven-by-fourteen of an angel. He’d bought the picture from Irish’s wedding photographer, and it had held a prime place on his desk since then. Another copy was on his dresser at home.
Would that phone never ring?
He ripped another sheet from the legal pad, wadded it, and sailed it toward the overflowing basket. He was nervous. He must have gone through half a dozen pads waiting for Bart Coleman to call. He was going to get an ulcer if this went on much longer.
The phone rang. Matt grabbed the receiver and answered before the first ring finished.
“It’s a done deal,” Bart Coleman said.
Matt broke into a broad grin. “She accepted?”
“Yep. Coleman-Walker has a new creative director. She reports for work on the fifteenth.”
“Then the Crow Airline account is yours under the terms we discussed. But, Bart, I swear to God—”
Bart laughed. “If she ever gets wind of this, my ass is grass.”
“You got that right. And I don’t want Jackson or any of the rest of my family to know anything about it, either.”
“Don’t worry, Matt. This is strictly between you and me. And by the way, I’m impressed with the lady and her book. I think she’ll work out fine, and if she doesn’t—”
“I know. In two weeks, you say?” He felt himself grinning like a fool.
Three
“Settled in?” Bart Coleman asked as Eve entered his office carrying a large stack of applicants’ portfolios.
“Almost. I’ve culled these books from the ones you left on my desk. They’re not bad, but the others are great.” She set the load on a table and sat down across from Bart. “Sure we only need three extra people? I’ve found a mountain of talent already.”
“Three for now. Bryan Belo, along with Sam Marcus, Nancy Brazil and a couple of freelancers are already doing some preliminary work on the new account that I want you to supervise. I don’t think that you’ve met Bryan. He’s out of town. I’ll introduce you later.”
“Great. I’ve already met briefly with Nancy and Sam, and I’m anxious to begin. Tell me about this account. Nancy said it was some sort of funky airline. That sounds almost like an oxymoron to me. I’m not sure I’d want to fly on a funky airline.”
Bart laughed. “Don’t worry about that Although it’s a small company compared to some of the big boys, Crow Airlines has always had a reputation of being safe and dependable—but fun. Wild uniforms and crazy ads, that sort of thing.”
Eve’s heart lurched. Crow? As in Jackson Crow. As in Matt Crow? Surely not. “Crow Airlines?” she managed to say.
“That’s right You probably haven’t heard much about the company in your neck of the woods, but getting that account was a real coup for our little shop. Not only is it an agency’s dream in regard to creative possibilities, but we’ve been able to almost double our billing. We’re about to pop our buttons. And I want you to be our number one gal in coming up with an outstanding campaign and keeping the client happy.”
Bart’s excitement was evident, but her stomach felt queasy. She swallowed, then took a deep breath. “Exactly who is the client?”
“Crow Airlines. I thought I said that.”
“Oh, you did” A dozen thoughts sizzled through her brain, each more ominous than the other. Please, dear God don’t let it be one of Kyle’s cousins. Eve didn’t think she could stand it if she’d gotten this terrific new job only because she was Irish’s sister. “I meant... who will I be dealing with from the compan?”
“The owner himself. Great guy. We were fraternity brothers at the University of Texas, and I’ve been twisting his arm for that account since Gene Walker and I started the agency. He finally relented.” Bart grinned and winked. “I usually leave the hustling to Gene, but I’m a helluva salesman when I put my mind to it.” He glanced at his watch. “We’d better get cracking. We’re set to meet our new client for lunch.”
When Bart strode to the door and motioned for her to precede him, she balked, every muscle in her body tense. “Who is this great guy who owns Crow Airlines?