Bait Read Free Page B

turned her into his employer could not be considered a point in his favor.
    He sighed. “You’re a hard woman, Maddie Fitzgerald, you know that?”
    â€œBelieve me, the knowledge keeps me awake nights.” Her heart rate was almost back to normal. “You want something?”
    â€œI just had a thought—maybe we should try to work Mrs. Brehmer into the spot. You know, have her be the face of Brehmer’s Pet Chow, or something.”
    â€œShe’s ninety years old and she looks like she died about ten years back.”
    Again, she could hear his smile. “So what’s your point?”
    Mrs. Brehmer was also worth about ninety billion, and her account, currently held by J. Walter Thompson, an advertising agency so huge that it was tantamount to sacrilege to mention Maddie’s own fledgling agency in the same breath with it, was worth upward of ten million a year. The thought practically made Maddie salivate. She’d sunk her life savings into buying Creative Partners when the firm for which she and Jon were working had gone belly-up eighteen months before. Unfortunately, so far the company’s finances hadn’t exactly turned around on her watch. If something good didn’t happen soon, this time when Creative Partners went down the tubes she was going down with it. Not a happy thought.
    â€œI suppose we could coat the lens with Vaseline,” Maddie said with a sigh. “Or put pantyhose over it. Something to soften the visual.”
    Jon chuckled. “See, I have good ideas.”
    â€œSometimes.” Maddie was thinking. “Maybe we could put her in a rocking chair in a long black dress, get her to look sort of like Whistler’s mother. Just get a long shot of her. She wouldn’t have to actually say anything. She could be like the company logo.”
    â€œThere you go. Put a whole bunch of animals around her. Cats draped across the back of the chair, dogs at her feet. That kind of thing.”
    â€œWouldn’t hurt to pitch it.” Cradling the receiver between her shoulder and ear, Maddie reached for the hotel-issue notepad and pencil by the phone. With a few economical strokes, she made a quick sketch of Mrs. Brehmer as logo, complete with slight smile, shoulder-perching cat, and oval frame, then examined it critically.
    â€œCould work,” she admitted.
    â€œWant me to come up so we can put something together?”
    â€œNo.” Maddie glanced at the bedside clock. It was not quite midnight. “Our appointment’s not until ten. How about if we meet for breakfast at seven-thirty? That should give us plenty of time to go over everything. Remember, right now we’re just floating this logo idea as sort of a trial balloon. If she likes it, we can go from there.”
    â€œWhatever you say, Boss.”
    â€œGet some sleep.” Because being called Boss was still fresh enough to give her a thrilled little tingle, Maddie’s voice was gruff. Then she bethought herself of something and pulled the receiver back. “Jon—good thinking, by the way.”
    â€œI try. Hey, if you change your mind, I’m only two floors down.”
    â€œGood-night, Jon.” Maddie hung up. For a moment, she simply stared at the sketch she had made as various ways to work Joan Brehmer into the ad campaign they were proposing revolved through her head. The elderly widow was still sufficiently involved in the company her husband had founded in St. Louis fifty years before that Creative Partners had had to fly to New Orleans, where Mrs. Brehmer now spent most of the year, to pitch their ideas to her personally. Given that the old lady felt that strongly about the company, maybe including her in the spot was the way to go. Maybe it would even be the deciding factor.
    Okay, so Jon’s perpetual come-ons were annoying. The man still had some decent ideas. If Creative Partners landed this account ...
    The phone rang again. This time