Turn Back the Dawn Page 4

  Kate sighed. "Sure. Anyone else?"

  "Uh, yes. Mr. Dayton."

  "Great. What did he want?"

  "You're asking me?" Linda laughed. "Kate, I'm just a secretary—how could I be trusted to pass along any information?"

  Kate laughed. "Mm—that is his attitude, isn't it? Well, I 'll give him a call and find out."

  "Do you want me to get him for you?" Linda asked.

  "Uh, no. I'll call Kurt first. But thanks."

  She hung up and sighed. Kurt. She didn't know if the thought of calling him was especially unpleasant because of him, or because of the contrast to Ben. For she knew the call would be among her last with him—on a personal basis, at least. She didn't even want to think about what it would be like working with him from now on—one of the reasons she shouldn't, perhaps, have become involved with him in the first place.

  And she was going to do it all over again with Ben

  Austin, most likely: make the same mistakes, suffer the same shock of surprise, and then endure the difficulties that went along with continuing to work together. Yet, for all her attempted rationality, she couldn't imagine that the problems she'd have to expect in working with Kurt from now on would ever occur with Ben. Not that he seemed like a saint; but he seemed so . . . she hesitated. She couldn't quite put her finger on it. He was appealing in a thousand ways—handsome, sexy, sincere, attractive, in telligent— all qualities she had known in many men. But there was something extra that somehow found its way into all his other good qualities. And then she realized what it was. He was secure. Unlike Kurt, he didn't seem to need to have his ego stroked by every passing female; he didn't have a chasm of insecurity beneath his confident exterior. Unlike other men she had known, he didn't seem to have to prove himself in any way with her: intellectual ly, physically, emotionally. And she knew that, as he him self had said, there was no turning back.

  If she could have had any confidence in her feelings, she would have been happy: she had, after all, apparently come across a very interesting, available man. But instead, the pleasure of anticipation was mixed with apprehension. For she feared that Ben would inevitably turn out like all the rest. It was just a matter of time.

  In the meantime, however, she would do well to take advantage of her clearheadedness and break off the relationship with Kurt once and for all. There were no unan swered questions there, no mysteries yet to unfold.

  She picked up the phone before she could procrastinate any longer. And in moments she was talking to Kurt.

  "You called," she began.

  "Yes. Several times, Kate. You've been in a hell of a long meeting."

  "Yes, well, the new account executive and I had a lot to discuss."

  "From Blake-Canfield? I just got the memo."

  "It looks as if we're going to have a great campaign."

  "That's great," he said. "But listen. I don't want to talk about that. I want to get together with you."

  She sighed. "I really don't think there's much point, do you?"

  "Why not?" he demanded. "You've kept me in the dark for days, Kate—some reference to something I don't even know about."

  "Oh, come on!" she cried. "You want it spelled out, Kurt? Fine. It's over between us, you're seeing another woman, it would have been over anyway, and that's that. Okay?"

  "I'm not seeing another woman," he said.

  "Fine," she said. "I really don't care either way."

  "What did you hear?"]

  "I heard you were seeing Cynthia Williston."

  He didn't say anything. Then she heard him sigh. "I'm not seeing her anymore," he said. "You haven't even given me a chance to tell you that, you know. All of this is after the fact."

  "Oh, come on. What difference does that make?"

  "I'd like to see you," he said. "I think we could clear things up."

  "I think we could cloud things up," she said.

  "You know what, Kate?" he said in a low, angry voice she had never heard before. "I don't even know why I'm arguing. There are plenty of women who aren't hung up on monogamy the way you are."

  "Fine," she said. "Go find them."

  "I will," he answered. "But you know what?"

  "What?"

  "You're fooling yourself," he said heatedly, "into think ing you're something you're not — a woman who's inter ested in things like faithfulness and all that other stuff— for whatever reason—something in your back ground, I guess. But you're not really interested in any of that crap. Because if you were—really—you never would have hooked up with me in the first place. You're just playing games, Kate, like women who invite a man up to their apartments and are surprised when he makes a move."

  "Well," she said quietly. "That's all very interesting. If you really think all of that, Kurt, then there really isn't any more to say. Good-bye." And she hung up. God! He had become so ugly! She knew that he had done so only because he was hurt, and angry. But she also knew that he had meant every word he had said. He had kept those thoughts to himself in the past, for obvious reasons. But the moment he knew the relationship was over — really over -he let her know what he really thought.

  And the worst part was that much of what he had said was true.

  She turned away from the phone and looked up Mr. Da yton's extension. If nothing else, he would distract her fr om thinking about Kurt.

  Kate," he said jovially, when she was finally put thr ough by his secretary. "Thanks for returning my call. H ow's the campaign going?"

  "Fine so far," she said. "It looks very, very promising."

  "That's just great," he said. "And that's why I was calling. I'll tell you what. I think I may have something— or someone, I should say—who might be able to help you out. Really give the campaign some zing."

  "Oh?" she said coolly, knowing she was bordering on rudeness but unable to muster any enthusiasm. It didn't sound promising, coming from him.

  "Yes. Kate, I'll tell you what. If you have some time free, I'd like to bring her by your office. You can chat, get to know each other a little, and then tell me what you think."

  She hesitated, waiting for him to say more, but apparently he had said all he was going to. "I'm sorry, Mr. Dayton. I don't quite understand. Who—uh, how is this person going to fit into my campaign?"

  He chuckled. "I thought you'd never ask, Kate. As the Ivorsen and Shaw girl, naturally. My niece, Alexandra. She's just in from Kansas—this month, as a matter of fact. Been staying with the wife and myself, plans on getting her own place soon. Hitting the modeling agencies at this very moment, as a matter of fact. And you never did see a prettier twenty-one-year-old young woman, I swear. I think you'll love her."

  Kate closed her eyes. She didn't need this at all. "Uh, Mr. Dayton, I'm sure your niece is very pretty. But the agency is handling the casting, and—"

  "Now, look here," he interrupted, "Kate Churchill, I was in your office not more than twenty-four hours ago when you explained the entire way the campaign was going to work. And you and I both know that if you wanted to cast King Kong's mother as the Ivorsen and

  Shaw girl, you could. It's our campaign, Kate--not Blake-

  Canfield's."

  She sighed. "Of course it's our campaign. But the cam paign, sir, is an integral whole. All the parts have to fit together." As she spoke into what felt like a void, she realized she was taking an approach that wasn't quite right. She'd never be able to convince him to leave the campaign alone. And who knew, anyway? Maybe his niece would somehow — miraculously — be right for the part. "Please don't misunderstand me, Mr. Dayton. I'd love to meet your niece. And perhaps we can use her for other work, if she's not exactly right for the major cam paign. In any case, all I meant was that I am working with Blake-Canfield Advertising, and I wouldn't want to do any hiring or even considering without them. But I'll tell you what. We're having an audition tomorrow — at the agency. Why don't you ask your niece to meet me there? And then we can see what develops."

  "That sounds perfect," he said
, obviously mollified.

  She gave him the details, hung up, and then shook her head. Since yesterday, she had been expecting Dick Day ton to be difficult over the course of the campaign. But she hadn't anticipated what had just occurred. Now, if she didn't hire his niece — a distinct and likely possibility — he would be hypercritical for the duration of the campaign. And if she did hire his niece — extremely unlikely, but a possibility nonetheless — her authority would probably be challenged whenever Dick Dayton decided his dear little niece needed more exposure. Damn.

  The next day Kate arrived at Blake-Canfield's offices on Fifty-fifth and Madison at eight forty-five. The audition was scheduled for nine o'clock, but Kate had taken a taxi] to be sure she'd be on time, and it had miraculously zipped through traffic twice as quickly as Kate had expected.

  After finding out from the receptionist that Ben wasn't in yet, Kate sat down on one of the low leather couches near the door. It was an impressive office, with soft lighting, cream-colored walls and carpeting, and large, blown- up prints of some of Blake-Canfield's ads. As Kate was wondering which ones Ben had worked on, a very pretty dark-haired young woman came in and walked over to the receptionist.

  Kate hoped she was one of the auditioners. If she wasn't, Kate was going to seriously consider suggesting that she audition. There was something startling about the young woman, and that was the very quality Kate felt was most important in casting the ad. They didn't want faces that were too beautiful, off-putting to all but the most confident viewers. But they did want attractive. Special people with flair. And this young woman—dressed all in white, from her cowboy hat to her jeans to her boots—had a definite flair. Her hair was auburn, her eyes dark blue, and her skin was fair and smooth. And though her features were unusual—a full mouth, high cheekbones, high forehead—she was arrestingly pretty. And then Kate heard her give her name to the receptionist: Alexandra Dayton.

  A few moments later, when she sat down near Kate, Kate introduced herself. They talked for a bit—about Alexandra's search for an apartment, about the modeling business and Alexandra's dread of the audition—and Kate found her natural and charming. When other people finally began filing in—employees, actors and actresses for the

  audition, messengers—Kate and Alexandra wound the conversation down. And then Ben strode in—his hair windblown, his cheeks red from the autumn chill. He lit up when he saw Kate. "Come on in to my office," he said, smiling. And she went with him down the long hall to his office.

  It was the first time Kate had seen it, and she loved it immediately. It was very spare and businesslike, leaving the focus of the room to the magnificent view that swept down Madison Avenue. The furniture was all modern— deep, rich brown leather couches and chairs, sleek black desk and conference table. And there were more poster-size framed ads on the cream-colored walls.

  When Ben closed the door softly behind him, Kate turned and looked at him, suddenly unaware of the surroundings, aware only that she was alone with him.

  He looked wonderful. With his sheepskin jacket and corduroy pants he was a man with his own style—not like the hordes of Burberry-coated men rushing up and down Madison and Park avenues every morning.

  His lips curved into a crooked, amused smile. "Am I wearing pajama bottoms?" he asked, looking downward. When he looked back at Kate, it was with a sparkle in his eyes. "You're looking at me as if I forgot something very crucial.

  She laughed. "No, no. I was just—staring, maybe— because I liked what you were wearing. Not the usual succesful-man-working-on-Madison-Avenue outfit."

  He smilled. "Good." He tilted his head and looked at her speculatively. "But you know me better than that." He smiled "I hope I'm more of a man going against the grain," he said, looking into her eyes. He came up close

  to her then, and put his hands warmly and temptingly over her hips. "I'm so glad to see you, Kate," he said softly.

  He leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers. She pulled him closer, wrapping her arms around him and opening her lips to the delicious warmth of his tongue. What she loved most about kissing him was the way every moment was deep with need, the way he seemed to want her so very, very much. And he wanted to please her as well, kissing her deeply but gently, deepening the kiss only when she wanted more. With a moan that rose from deep inside she drew him in, tasting him with an ecstasy of pleasure, reveling in the heat that was enveloping them both.

  Then slowly, gently, he drew back. "Kate," he whispered. And then he smiled broadly, hazel eyes shining with pleasure. "We do have to stop meeting like this, you know. Cliché or not."

  She raised her chin and smiled. "What did you have in mind?"

  "Oh, dinner. Dancing. Making love."

  He brought his mouth down on hers then, in a long, deep kiss that spread pulsating heat through her body, weakening her limbs, firing her with a core of yearning that burned deep inside. He tasted wonderful, and she wanted more. She wanted to feel his warm skin against her own, to feel his slim hips against hers, to feel his long, muscular legs parting her own.

  He drew back and his amber eyes searched hers. "When?" he asked.

  She said nothing — she could say nothing, with her voice caught inside, under layers of desire.

  "When?" he repeated, and she was suddenly aware of the hardness of his thighs, and a wild liquid warmth plunged through her body. ^Tonight?" he murmured.

  She smiled dreamily and said, "Yes."

  He reached up and stroked her cheek with the back of his warm hand, and she inhaled his scent, brushing her lips across his skin.

  He smiled.

  "What?" she asked quietly.

  "I'm just thinking about how we're in here enjoying ourselves and we're keeping two dozen nervous young kids out there quaking." He brushed back a strand of her hair. "I don't know how I'm going to be able to concen trate with you at my side." He took a deep breath. "I guess that's what casting directors are for."

  She widened her eyes. "Getting derelict in your duties already, just because of a little personal influence?"

  He smiled. "Don't worry. When I first met you and said that your account would be important to me, Kate, I meant it." He smiled into her eyes. "But if we're ever going to go out there, I think we should go now."

  "Just one more kiss," she murmured, lips close to his.

  He smiled, a look of pleasant surprise in his eyes. And then he tantalizingly brushed his lips across hers and winked. "They'll all be too old for the call by the time we get out there."

  She laughed. "Okay. But, oh, I have to tell you some thing." She explained Alexandra Dayton's presence, leav ing out her opinion about the young woman for the moment. She wanted to see what Ben and the casting director had to say about her first, and she also had some serious concerns about hiring her.

  Kate and Ben went down to the casting room together, met with Andrew Coates, Blake-Canfield's casting director, for a few minutes, and waited while Coates went and brought the auditioners in. Coates was a young, slightly whiny man, good-looking until he began to speak. But' Kate was impressed with the way he discussed the cam -j paign, and from the looks of the auditioners she had seen out in the reception area, he had fairly good taste.

  After Coates left, Kate looked around at the rows of beautifully cushioned seats, the slightly raised area at the far end of the room that apparently served as a stage, at the bare walls and floors that wouldn't afford perhaps- needed distractions to the anxious performers. There was video equipment everywhere, with a glassed-in control room at the back of the room and several cameras and microphones on and near the stage. She and Ben sat in the middle row of seats, and she imagined how threatening they probably would look from onstage: the client and the account executive, there to criticize, perhaps encourage in minor ways, but probably not to hire.

  A few minutes later the door opened, and a stream of young men and women poured in, followed by Coates and a young woman with a clipboard. As Kate settled back to listen to Coates give his spiel,
she was once again impressed. Ben had obviously conveyed the sense of the campaign quite well; and many of the concepts in it wen- less than obvious. Coates went on with some specific points about the script, a few hints about relaxing, and then called the first names.

  Kate's stomach jumped as if the names were her own And then, what seemed like only seconds later, Andrew Coates was thanking the first two auditioners as they

  stepped off the stage, and Kate realized she had missed their performance. And she wondered why she was so nervous. She was utterly distracted, completely in a daze. And then she remembered: just before the audition, she had agreed to see Ben tonight. In a dreamy, sensuous, lazy haze, she had said yes to more than just seeing him. She had said yes to much, much more.

  As she felt Ben's presence next to her, knew every inch of him without even looking, a surge of pleasure erupted inside her, a thrill of anticipation that nearly made her tremble. And this, she realized, was what was sending bolts of fear through her. For her feelings for Ben were so strong—physically and emotionally—that she felt she had lost control.

  She had thought of her answer as an act of strength, as an aspect of being a woman who could make choices and decisions and take actions others might consider premature or impetuous. She was her own woman, beholden to one, and she could do what she wanted. But underneath this confidence and self-determination, underneath the wonderful feeling she'd had when she had breathed yes against Ben's lips was the fear that she wasn't really in control, and now she was swept with doubt.