The sudden ringing of the phone startled her, and Livvy jumped, spilling coffee down the front of her cream silk blouse. She frowned at the dark, spreading patch in exasperation. That was all the afternoon needed to complete it. A stain on her brand-new blouse.

The phone rang again, and Livvy picked it up. She identified herself and then wished she hadn’t when she recognized the voice of Walt Larson, a client who had hired their advertising agency to design a campaign to promote his building supply company.

“You were wrong, Miss Farrell,” Larson announced gleefully.

Firmly walling her annoyance behind the practical demands of keeping the customer happy, Livvy forced a laugh. “It would hardly be the first time, Mr. Larson. But what exactly are you referring to?”

“I checked, and it isn’t against the law to have a bigbreasted woman in a tiny bikini in a television ad.”

“It’s against the law of good taste!” Livvy’s resolve slipped slightly. “Mr. Larson, you sell building supplies for the do-it-yourselfer. What do scantily clad women have to do with that?”

“Sex sells!” he insisted. “You’re supposed to be the advertising expert. You should know that.”

Livvy gritted her teeth, counted to ten and then said, “That is a gross oversimplification.”

“Now you listen to me, Miss Farrell....” Livvy turned at the sound of a sharp knock on her door. Before she could respond, it was pushed open. Larson’s hectoring voice faded to a minor annoyance in the background, as Conal’s large body filled her vision. Eagerly her eyes skimmed over his face. His dark eyes gleamed with suppressed excitement, sending a wave of anticipation through her.

Her eyes instinctively sought the intriguing line of his mouth, lingering over the firmness of his lips. She didn’t know what had excited him, but she sure knew what would work for her—if he were to gather her in his arms and press his lips to hers. A shiver raced over her skin, raising goosebumps.

“...pay the bills!” Larson’s indignant tone finally registered in Livvy’s bemused mind.

“Yes, Mr. Larson, but...” Her concentration suffered a major setback when Conal perched on the edge of her desk, and Larson launched back into his tirade. She could feel the warmth from his large body reaching out to her. Luring her closer to him.

In self-defense she dropped her eyes and found herself staring at his thigh. His muscles were pushing against the thin gray material of his suit pants, and Livvy felt her fingers tremble with the urge to touch him. To probe the strength of his muscles and find out if they were as hard as they looked. To—

“...big boobs,” Larson concluded.

“Boobs!” Livvy jerked up, outrage momentarily dousing her fascination with Conal’s body.

“Breasts,” Conal amended in a stage whisper.

Livvy ignored him, even if she couldn’t entirely ignore the tightening of her own breasts at the gleam of mischief in Conal’s eyes. Clients might be important, but there were limits to what she was willing to do to keep an account. Larson was skating seriously close to that limit.

Livvy’s eyes narrowed as an idea suddenly occurred to her.

“Mr. Larson, I will concede that you have a point that sex sells, but you’re being very unimaginative about it. Instead of a bikini-clad woman, why don’t we hire a model from one of the male strip clubs?”

“What?” Larson sounded confused.

“It’ll be great,” Livvy said blandly. “We can get a muscular type in a sequined jockstrap and—”

“You can’t do that!” Mr. Larson sputtered.

“Why not?” Livvy felt the trembling of Conal’s body, and she looked up to see him choking on the laughter he was trying to contain. Conal would be a natural in the role, she thought dreamily. They could put him in a redsequined bit of nothing and drape him over a power saw. Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. She would buy. And so would half the women in New York City.

“I don’t think you appreciate my business,” Larson blustered. “I’ve half a mind to take it elsewhere.”

Half a mind about summed it up, Livvy thought acidly. “We would be very sorry to loose your business,” she lied, “but of course you must do what you think best.”

She gently hung up the phone in contrast to the way Larson slammed the receiver down.

“What was that all about?” Conal asked.

“Inappropriate sex,” Livvy muttered, not wanting to talk about Larson’s fixation with large-breasted women.

“Sex inappropriate? Is that possible in this culture?” Conal grinned at her, his white teeth gleaming darkly against his tanned face, and the laugh lines around his eyes deepening. When he smiled, he smiled with his whole face, Liwy realized. Would he make love with the same intensity? Would he—Stop it. Livvy hastily yanked her imagination up short. She absolutely had to get some kind of grip on her daydreams, because they were beginning to take over her mind every time she even thought about Conal. Somehow she had to find a way to dilute her fascination with him because time wasn’t doing it, as she’d hoped it would when she’d first met him eighteen months ago. Time only seemed to be deepening her attraction to him.

She took a deep, steadying breath and said, “Forget our probably ex-client and tell me what happened.”

Conal shifted uneasily. He momentarily couldn’t remember why he’d come into her office in the first place. He’d taken one look at the aggravation on her face, and had wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and wipe away every last vestige of strain. He wanted to kiss her until he managed to replace her annoyance with the mindless bliss of sexual desire. He stared down into the brilliant blue of her eyes, desperately wanting to see them grow cloudy with passion. Passion for him.

He clenched his teeth against the burgeoning need that shot through him like a pain. Fat chance he had of that, he thought grimly. He couldn’t even convince her to go out with him, let alone go to bed with him. Patience. He repeated what had become his mantra during the long months Livvy had worked for him. Sooner or later he was bound to find a chink in her armor. If he was ever to convince Livvy to see him as her lover, he absolutely couldn’t do anything to scare her off. As long as he remained on friendly terms with her, he would be in a position to take advantage of it. In the meantime he would tell her the good news.

“I got a phone call from Grandma Betty’s Soup Company.”

Livvy sat up in sudden interest. As far as she knew, it was the first time they’d been approached by a subsidiary of one of the large multinational chains.

“And?” Liwy prodded him.

“And they want us to submit a proposal for a new line of soup mixes they’re developing.” He offered the words like a gift.

“That’s fantastic!” Liwy enthused.

“It sure is. To paraphrase someone or other, this could be the start of something big.”

But not too big. Livvy instinctively rejected the thought of Conal expanding his small agency. She loved working closely with him and wouldn’t want to lose that intimacy.

“There’s just one thing,” Conal added slowly as he reached the part that he knew was going to be tricky.

“As long as it doesn’t involve bikinis, I can deal with it.”

“It’s the time element. From the deadline they set for our first presentation, I think they originally tried another ad agency and it didn’t work out.”

“How tight is the timing?”

“They want a presentation in six weeks.”

“Six weeks! It’s impossible. Have you forgotten my vacation starts Friday?”

“Take it later,” Conal suggested.

“This is later. I was supposed to go in August and had to postpone it when we had that rush job for the record chain. Besides, I’ve already made reservations in Extaca.” Livvy stiffened her resolve not to give in. She had deliberately planned her vacation in Mexico, hoping that being so far away from Conal would allow her to get her obsession under control. But even so, Conal was right. This really was a great opportunity. An opportunity she would normally have grabbed with both hands.