A Season of Miracles. Heather Graham
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if you came with me, I’d show you a good time, you know.”
“I’m sure you would.”
He slid off her desk at last, brushing her cheek with his fingertips. “I’d show you off to all my friends. You are gorgeous, you know.”
She caught his hand and squeezed it. “Thanks, Griff.”
“Oh, by the way, Daniel asked to see you. His office.”
“When?”
Griff looked at his watch. “Hmm…a while ago, I guess.”
“Griff, why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m sure it’s nothing.” He placed his hands on her desk and leaned toward her again. “Why don’t you defy him? Just go home!”
“Because it might be important,” she said impatiently. She stood and walked past him.
“Hey, Jillian?”
She turned back.
“Happy Halloween. And merry Christmas shopping.”
Eileen Llewellyn paced in front of the storyboards set up in her office, looking at the newest sketches for the catalog campaign. Of medium height, with coal-dark hair that was expertly styled to flatter her heart-shaped face, she was elegant, efficient and a picture of total sophistication. She liked business suits with tailored jackets, short skirts and high heels. She walked with an aura of confidence and authority. One look from her cool blue eyes could silence a room. She had been born to soar in the business world.
But at the moment she was agitated. She groped for the pack of cigarettes on her desk, slipped one out without looking and lit it, grateful in the back of her mind that the company owned the building and she could smoke in her own office whenever she damn well pleased. Exhaling a cloud of smoke eased her aggravation slightly, but still, she continued to stare at one storyboard, in particular. It showed a woman in an off-the-shoulder, long-sleeved, dramatic gown with a flowing skirt; it somehow had the look of something from another time, another world. The woman was draped across an iron chair near a fireplace, and a man was bending down before her, his fingers brushing the bare flesh of her throat while he set a locket around her neck. It was a wonderful sketch. Striking. Seldom could one piece of art speak so clearly, especially in the commercial world. The artist was to be highly commended. It conveyed everything it should. The timelessness of a gift of fine jewelry. The pure romance of such a gift. The class, refinement…more. It was wonderful. What she could do with this one sketch alone…
But, damn, it was irritating.
There was a tapping on her door.
“I’m busy,” she called out sharply.
The door opened, anyway.
Theo walked in. He was a tall man, imposing in stature. Though barely thirty, he had already acquired a few gray strands in his dark hair. They gave an impression of wisdom and authority. He knew how to use his physical presence well, but he didn’t intimidate her. She glanced at him over her shoulder, irritation evident in her eyes.
“Theo, I said—”
“Yeah, I can see you’re busy, puffing away.”
“What do you want?”
“It’s great, isn’t it? I want to use it for more than just the catalog. I want to pull some of the ads we’ve already got for December and rush this in, instead.”
She flashed him a frown. “Theo, it’s way too late to go changing the Christmas ads! December magazines are already on their way out.”
“I was thinking newspapers. And maybe a television campaign, after Christmas.”
“Television? It’s a sketch!”
Theo was silent for a moment, arms folded over his chest, eyes on hers. He smiled slowly. “We both know the real thing isn’t a sketch.”
No, the real thing wasn’t a sketch. It was Jillian. A perfect likeness. The woman was tall, elegantly slim, but shapely, as well. The hair was long and a beautiful reddish blond. The eyes were deep green, like expensive emeralds. It was Jillian.
And she had been drawn with love. Or at least with pure infatuation.
“Eileen?” Theo said.
She let out a sigh of impatience, stubbing out her cigarette. “Jillian is a designer. Yes, she’s good-looking, Theo, really good-looking, but she isn’t an actress.”
“She could carry this off, and we both know it.”
“Brad Casey in art must have a hell of a crush on her. Besides, who knows if she’d even be willing.”
“Brad Casey saw something and used it in this drawing. As to Jillian being willing? Our Jillian? She is Llewellyn Enterprises. She lives and breathes the company.”
“Careful. She gets angry when you say that,” Eileen warned.
He arched a brow. “Hmm. I’m just a hard-working second cousin—you’re a direct descendant of the old boy, just like our Jillian.”
“Well,” she said sweetly, leaning back against her desk to light another cigarette and survey him with cool blue eyes, “Grandfather doesn’t seem to care about that, does he. No one compares with Jillian, but you’re right up there, aren’t you, Theo?”
“Eileen, it sounds as if we need to supply your office with a scratching post.”
“Would you stop, Theo? I didn’t start this. Look—”
“Eileen, you know I’m right, you know this is brilliant. Pure accident, and yes, that poor sod Brad Casey probably does have a crush on Jillian. But it’s perfect.”
A hard rap on the door interrupted them. Griff swept in, bearing a silver tray with a tea serving and Halloween cookies. He slid the tray onto Eileen’s desk and looked at the sketches.
“Wow! Our golden girl is a beauty, isn’t she? I mean, for real. No wonder the old boy dotes on her.”
“Griff, some of us want to get out of here today,” Eileen said, walking around behind her desk.
“Television spots would be perfect,” Griff told Theo. “I heard you through the door,” he said in response to Theo’s quizzical look.
“Thanks for the input,” Theo said briefly. “What’s with the cookies?”
“The old boy sent them out to all of us—his idea of trick-or-treat, I guess,” Griff said. “I gallantly swept them from the hands of the young office assistant about to hear you two airing the family laundry.”
“We weren’t airing the family laundry,” Eileen said impatiently.
“Think Jillian will be willing?” Theo asked Griff.
“We can persuade her.”
“I want to move on this before Marston gets any more involved.”
“Endear Jillian to us before Marston gets his hands on her, huh?” Griff teased.
“What are you talking about?” Theo asked impatiently.
“He’s brilliant, right? And the old boy has pulled him in above all of us.”
Theo turned away, studying the sketches again. “Don’t be ridiculous. I suggested Marston. I went to school with him.”
“He’ll be just like Big Brother—watching,” Griff said.
“This is a company, not a kingdom,” Theo said impatiently.
But Eileen was studying Griff thoughtfully. “Douglas Llewellyn is all about family. Marston is nothing, really, not without—” Eileen said.
“Jillian,”