Ship of Dreams (Dreams Come True Series Book 2) Read online

  “All right. I’m game. Tell me about your agency.”

  Before she could start her pitch, the office door opened and a tall, good-looking younger version of Jackson entered the room. Same thick hair, but light brown with hints of pre-mature gray at the temples, same gray eyes, same ready smile. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree.

  She remembered Jackson Junior, or Jack, from dinners at the country club, golf outings, parties at her parents’ house, and high school. She’d tried her sixteen-year-old girl’s wiles on him. Four years older, he hadn’t been impressed, having eyes only for Miss New York and his girlfriend at the time, Stephanie Smallwood. They’d married after college, only to get divorced five years later.

  “Jack, you remember Milt’s daughter, Laura.”

  “Yes.” His eyes lit up. “Of course.”

  “Laura was about to tell me a little about her agency–”

  “Giddings-Rose,” she supplied.

  “Giddings-Rose?” Jack interjected. “Laura, I should tell you, we aren’t looking for a traditional Madison Avenue agency. We already fired Kendall-Moore. We want to move into the digital age, freshen our brand and broaden our consumer base, with a focus on a younger demographic.”

  “You’re speaking my language,” Laura said with a grin.

  Jackson beamed at his son. “Jack is our Vice President of Customer Relations and he’s been pushing for Imperial to enter the age of social media.” He chuckled. “What I know about social media could fit in a thimble.”

  Laura jumped in with both feet. “Imperial has catered to the older wealthy client, but with that clientele dying off, the line needs to refocus its brand on a younger demographic, people my age, with copious amounts of discretionary income.”

  Jackson Senior and Junior eyed one another.

  Jackson spoke first. “We had that in mind when we designed the newest ship—”

  “The Nave dei Sogni,” Laura interjected.

  “That’s right,” Jackson said, “and its itineraries, shore excursions and onboard activities, but we haven’t been able to reach that client. Now we’re building a new, smaller four-hundred-fifty passenger liner—the ultimate boutique ship—”

  Jack interrupted, “—which will offer unstructured cruises that give passengers the feel that they are truly on a personal yacht. This won’t be your grandparents’ cruise. Most passengers on the Sogni have been our usual clientele, perplexed by the offerings. The only people your age we get on the ship are there because it’s their parents’ or grandparents’ anniversary or birthday.”

  “Forget what you think you know about Giddings-Rose,” Laura started her pitch. “We have the finest creative team in the business, with two Webbys, five ADDYs, one Mosaic, and fifty years of experience combined, the media buying power of the large agency we are, but with the digital savvy of an interactive agency. We give you the best of both worlds. Strategic planning, web design and development, search engine marketing, digital lead generation, digital brand development, rich media campaigns, interactive marketing and communications strategy, data mining, and ROI assessment.” She took a breath.

  “You don’t have a cruise line in your client roster,” Jack pointed out.

  “No, we don’t, but we do have an international airline and a five-star hotel chain on our books, plus one of the world’s top travel companies, so we have experience in the high-end travel and hospitality industry.”

  Jackson glanced at his son and nodded. “Okay. We’ll give Giddings-Rose a shot.”

  “But your initial research and creative is on spec,” Jack added. “We’ll expect your pitch the end of July, but we’ll have a pre-pitch meeting with both agencies before that. We’ll be in touch to set that up.”

  Laura stuck her hand out to Jackson. “Thank you.”

  “It’s a pleasure to see you again.” Jackson covered their clasped hands with his other hand. “You truly have grown into a beautiful woman.”

  “Thank you, Jackson.”

  “I’ll walk you out.” Jack guided Laura through the door. “How did we not know you worked for an ad agency?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Have you met my father?”

  Jack laughed. “Right. Then how did you find out we were looking?”

  “My father blurted it out, forgetting his daughter was in the business.” If he even knew in the first place.

  “Maybe that’s a good thing. A little competition never hurt anyone, and Imperial can only benefit.”

  They’d arrived at the elevators. “My father was right,” Jack said, his face earnest.

  “About what?” Laura turned to face him.

  “That you’ve grown into a beautiful woman.”

  Alrighty then. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Jack, but I think I’m the one who should be sucking up to you.”

  “Then you can start sucking up by having dinner with me.”

  She tilted her head as the elevator dinged. “Perhaps.” She stepped into the elevator and turned around. Just before the doors closed, she said, “Call me.”

  Chapter 2

  Later that same day, Nathan sat at the head of the conference room table surrounded by representatives from the various departments. Imperial wasn’t the only account on his plate.

  Hawk Media began as an interactive agency, but over the last five years had grown into a more agile version of a full-service agency, complete with creative and production departments, strategic market planning, and media buying. But digital and social media still remained at the core of Hawk’s services.

  Today’s meeting involved a tech giant ready to roll out its latest technology in just eight months, which put Hawk Media under the gun to plan and implement the campaign for its launch two months earlier in order to stimulate anticipation in their users and users-to-be.

  An existing account, the agency had gigabytes of analytics on the company, so it was a matter of defining the message, creating the collateral and the print and digital ads, and buying the media.

  Nathan needed to get his head in the game, but his mind kept drifting to that morning’s sidewalk encounter. Who was she? What did she do? Where did she live? Was she single? Married? Maybe she was a lesbian. He frowned at either possibility.

  “Nathan? Did you have an issue with the latest timeline?”

  He glanced up to see Pramod standing in front of the digital white board, a perplexed look on his face. “Hmm? Oh. No. It’s fine, why?”

  “You had a frown on your face.”

  Chagrin washed over him. “Oh. It’s nothing. Sorry. Please continue.”

  “Right.”

  Get it together, Nathan. Hawk Media didn’t hire you to daydream about women. Well, not women, but one woman in particular. One woman who’d left a definite impression after such a brief encounter.

  “Talk to me,” Laura said as soon as Katie answered the phone.

  “First, how’d it go?”

  “I wouldn’t be asking for numbers if I didn’t need them.”

  “Hot damn.”

  “And I think I might have a date with Jackson Junior.”

  “No shit?” Katie laughed. “I so want to be you.”

  “So, talk numbers to me, baby.” Laura dodged harried pedestrians, as she listened to Katie’s rundown on Imperial Cruise Lines.

  “The average income of the cruise line’s customers is five hundred K. Average age is between forty-five and sixty-five, so you’re about fifteen years early to the party, which is good, since word is that’s the demographic they’re looking to entice.”

  “That’s what Jackson said. Perfect,” Laura interjected.

  “I’ve been poking around on their website, and boy, Imperial doesn’t pull any punches when it comes to pampering its guests with all-suite, all-veranda staterooms, five-star dining, a spa that puts Guerlain to shame—not that I’ve been there mind you, but I’ve drooled over pictures—staterooms that offer elegant furnishings, Bang & Olufson sound systems, fresh flowers daily, and Egyptian
cotton linens. But they really need to update to responsive formatting for their website.”

  Laura flipped through the rather pedestrian, traditional brochure she’d picked up, as she walked along East Seventy-Sixth Street toward her office building. Ignoring the need for updated collateral, she skimmed the contents. She knew Imperial catered to those with discerning tastes and the money to appease those tastes, but she didn’t expect to be so . . . wowed by the line’s luxurious offerings. After all, she’d stayed in her fair share of five-star hotels and resorts around the world.

  Turning down Madison Avenue, she told herself to look away from the Louboutin store window. Since when did I ever do what I was told?

  “Holy crap! You should see this penthouse stateroom,” Katie continued. “The bathroom is bigger than my apartment. The ship is like a floating Four Seasons. No, it’s like a floating Four Seasons on crack.”

  At Laura’s silence, Katie prodded, “Are you listening to me, or are you standing in front of the Louboutin window drooling?”

  “No. Okay, yes. But they have this pair of hot pink satin pumps. And I swear they’re calling my name.”

  “You and your shoes. Focus, Imelda.”

  “Right. I have enough shoes anyway. Said no one. Ever.” If there was one thing that could distract her, it was shoes, of the über expensive variety. Well, that and a hot man—preferably one with an accent. “Okay. I’m back.” With one last glance at the delicious window display, she refocused her attention. “What else you got?”

  “Two of their ships, the Sogni D’oro and the Fantasia, carry approximately fifteen hundred passengers, but their newest addition to the fleet is a thousand-passenger ultra-luxury liner they’ve christened Nave dei Sogni.”

  “Right. Ship of Dreams,” Laura muttered to herself. “That’s the one I want.” Fitting. “Ask Sanjita to make the arrangements—the earliest date possible. And I want the penthouse.”

  “But—”

  “I’ll personally make up the difference in cost. No one will ever suspect an occupant of the penthouse is an account executive. Let me know if I need to pull a few strings with Jackson.”

  “Damn, Laura. I repeat, I want to be you,” Katie huffed out.

  “Not if I don’t get this account, so have Sanjita get me on that ship. ASAP.”

  “How’s the honeymoon?” Laura set aside the spreadsheets Katie had created on Imperial, and took a few minutes to prop up her feet, and catch up with the new Mrs. Darcy Butler Ryan, her newlywed best friend. A half-eaten salad sat on her desk, long abandoned in her analysis of the numbers.

  “Oh, Laura, it’s so romantic. Long walks on the beach, candlelight dinners, breakfast in bed.” Darcy sighed. “It’s perfect.”

  Laura rolled her eyes at Darcy’s effusive, dreamy description, but she couldn’t be happier for her. After years of searching for the perfect man, Darcy finally found him right under her nose—in the form of her best guy-friend, Josh Ryan.

  Now they were spending two weeks at the Four Seasons in Nevis. “And how is the ambulance chaser? Missing the sound of sirens yet?” She couldn’t resist, even though she knew Josh didn’t practice personal injury law. She and Josh had a long-running battle over who could deliver the sharpest jab.

  “Are you two going to poke at one another until we’re old and gray? Besides, he’s a mediator now, not a lawyer.”

  “Just because he’s your husband doesn’t mean I can’t use him for target practice. And once a shyster, always a shyster. But on to more important things. How’s the sex?”

  “Laura Danforth Armstrong, I am not going to discuss my married sex life with you. It’s too personal.”

  Laura winced at the use of her middle name—her mother’s maiden name. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.” She accepted a note from Sanjita, glanced at it, and nodded in response. “Come on, throw me a bone. I’ve hit a dry spell.”

  “What, no hot new guy with a sexy accent?”

  Laura had an affinity for men with foreign accents. Darcy once accused her of hanging out at the U.N. to pick up guys. She thought about Jack Jeffries, but quickly moved on to her knight-in-tropical-weight-wool. Tall, good-looking Nathan.

  He had a sexy accent—a Southern one. And a devilish grin. “No, and I won’t have time in the weeks ahead, anyway. Which reminds me, I won’t be home when you get back so you’ll have to save the vacation slide show for later.”

  “Why, what’s up?”

  “Remember that cruise line shopping for an ad agency? Well, I’m going after it, and I leave that week for a ten-day Mediterranean cruise.”

  “You have such a tough life.”

  Laura laughed. “Said the pot to the kettle. Let’s see, two weeks in Nevis this month, followed by two weeks in Napa and Sonoma after you return.” Laura and Josh had thrown aside their rivalry to surprise Darcy with a two-week trip for her thirtieth birthday. A best-selling romance author, Darcy’s next series was set in California Wine Country. They thought the trip would jumpstart the inspiration. And, at the time, give Darcy a much-needed break from her all-out pursuit of Mr. Right.

  “Lots of men with accents on that trip.”

  “Yes, but most will be old enough to be my grandfather.”

  “Well, don’t injure yourself playing shuffleboard in hooker heels.”

  “I’ll try not to. Gotta run. I’ve got some work to finish up, and my personal shopper from Neiman’s called. I see a new bikini and maybe a slinky new dress or two in my future.”

  “I repeat, you have such a tough life.”

  Drawing the tie from his neck, Nathan walked through the door of Hawk Media’s corporate Upper East Side apartment and dropped his briefcase on the floor beside the foyer table.

  Boxes still stood, waiting to be unpacked. He’d had no time to settle in, so far unpacking only the essentials. Since the apartment was furnished, his own furnishings were in storage until he could find a place to buy.

  Something with a view, he thought, or maybe something with a tidy yard. Of course, he’d pay twice as much in New York for a place half the size of his home in Atlanta. But the farm came first.

  The boxes would have to wait a little longer. His days would be long until he left for the cruise in two weeks. And after he returned, who knew when he’d get around to them. Grabbing a glass from the cabinet, he opened the bottle of scotch he’d managed to unearth last night and poured two fingers. Toasting himself, he let the honeyed warmth glide down his throat.

  And, leaning against the counter, thought again of Laura.

  For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why he didn’t ask for her number. Or at least her last name. Oh yeah, because he wasn’t after women. He was after a certain cruise line account. Not, he thought, that she would have given him her information even if he’d asked for it.

  Funny, as a leg man, he’d have thought those long sexy legs of hers would have been the main feature he’d remember about her. Especially since he’d had his hand wrapped around one of those legs.

  But it wasn’t the first thing that came to mind when he thought of Laura. It was her eyes. Cool and deep like a mountain lake. Then there was that mouth. Full lips, a half smile that formed a hint of a dimple at the very corner. A very kissable mouth, that.

  Scrubbing his hand through his hair, he reminded himself he had no time to fantasize about what else that enticing mouth could do. Odds were, in a city this big, he’d never see her again anyway.

  Swallowing the rest of the scotch, he retrieved his briefcase for the spreadsheets he’d be up half the night poring over.

  Fishing the last shrimp from her Pad Thai, Laura popped it in her mouth before resuming her draft of the creative brief for a clothing line by a hot new designer. The BoHo clothes didn’t suit Laura’s taste level, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t work up a kick-ass creative brief.

  In the hush of the office—everyone else having left a couple of hours earlier—Adele sang softly from the computer about turning tables. Another ho
ur, two at the most, and she’d have it finished. Then she could head home for her hot date . . . with a Brad Pitt movie on Netflix.

  She jumped at the knock on her door and coughed as she almost swallowed the lump of partially-chewed crustacean. “Jesus, Curt, you scared me. I thought I was the only one left.”

  He smothered a chuckle. “Sorry about that. I saw a light on and came to investigate.” He approached her desk and slumped into a chair. “Why are you still here?”

  “I’m finalizing the creative brief for the Kim Sun Lee account.”

  “I didn’t think the team needed that for another two weeks yet.”

  Laura shrugged. “No sense in waiting when I can get it done now.”

  He looked around her office, then out the window at the dimming summer light. “No, why are you still here?” He glanced at his watch. “It’s almost eight-thirty on a Friday night.” He eyed the spreadsheets, sketches, and notes piled on her desk alongside the takeout boxes. The half-finished bottle of water. The diet soda can. “Don’t you have a home?”

  “I could ask you the same thing,” she pointed out as her fingers continued to fly over the keys, glancing up in time to see his soft, sad smile that said touché.

  “Shelby’s visiting her sister in Maine, and the kids are at a sleepover. I thought I’d catch up on a few things.”

  “Same here. Since I’m leaving in a couple of weeks, I want everything in order before then.” That, and her parents were in Manhattan and had asked her to join them for dinner. Well, her mother had asked her to join them, anyway. So she’d needed an excuse. To hide.

  Hiding. That’s what she was actually doing. Hiding from her parents. Just like she’d done when she was a teenager. Only then she’d done her hiding at Darcy’s.