“Laura,” he said from behind Megan. “It's nice to see you. Do you know Mrs. Lambert?”
Appraising, but not hostile, blue eyes slid to Megan.“Mrs. Lambert. Laura Wray, Atlanta Constitution.”
Megan shook the slender hand extended to her.“Megan, please. I'm with WONE.”
“You're not on the air?”
“No, I'm local sales manager.”
“It's a pleasure to meet you.”
It was difficult to determine the nature of the woman's smile, but Megan categorized it somewhere between sad and wistful.
“I don't think those seats across the aisle are taken,” she said. Again Megan noted a hopefulness in her throaty voice.
“No,” Josh said, vetoing the idea before Megan could voice an opinion. “The sun will be on that side once we take off. I've already sighted some seats back here.” Gently but firmly he pushed Megan along the narrow aisle. “See you later, Laura,” he said dismissively.
“Yes. See you later.” Her voice trailed off.
Megan sat in the window seat Josh indicated. He placed her bags in a tiny closet at the rear of the plane, then came back to sit beside her. “Comfortable?”
“Yes, but I can't get the seat belt out. It's wedged between the seat and the wall.”
He leaned over her to examine the problem. “I think I can.” Reaching across her lap, he grasped the nylon strap and tugged hard. His elbow bumped into her breast, not painfully, but with enough vigor to freeze them both for stunned seconds.
His eyes swept down to survey any damage. “I'm sorry,” he said gruffly, staring at her breasts. “Did I hurt you?”
Not trusting herself to answer, she only shook her head. With another, more careful tug, the strap came free and Josh buckled it around her, taking an inordinate amount of time adjusting its length. His hands lingered unnecessarily on her abdomen after the metal had already clicked shut. He adjusted his own seat belt with far less ceremony.
As Terry Bishop's other invited guests took their seats, they stopped to speak to Megan and Josh. Those she didn't already know, he introduced her to. She saw the envy in the eyes of the women and knowing speculation in those of the men.
It rankled that everyone automatically assumed she was Josh's latest conquest and traveling companion, but that was the price she was going to have to pay for victory. If all went according to her plan, by the end of the weekend, portable typewriters and telephone wires back to Atlanta would be humming with the news that the local sales manager of WONE and Josh Bennett were an “item.” That her late husband had been Josh's employee would only make the story juicier.
“How's Barnes?” Josh asked her over the purr of the jet engines once they were airborne.
She turned to him slightly, and when her knee nudged against his in the narrow space, she allowed it to rest there. “Maybe I should be asking you. Have you had any more complaints?”
“Not even a whiff of one. I think you scared the hell out of him.” His teeth were a startling white against his tanned, ruggedly handsome face. The sun on Hilton Head's beach would only enhance the richly bronzed color of his skin.
“I'm keeping close tabs on him,” Megan said. “The parent-company bigwigs were down this week. They've increased my budget. I can't afford any costly mistakes. But besides that, I'd hate to let Barnes go. He's a super salesman when he applies himself.”
“Y
ou're rare, Megan.” The intimate pitch of Josh's voice brought her eyes up to his. “You combine professionalism with pure femininity.”
The tightening muscles in her throat made talking difficult, but she said, “That's not so rare these days. Many women serve in the capacities usually reserved for men and do admirably well.”
He considered the idea for a moment, then said, “Yes, but many women would love to cut a man down to size just for the hell of it, to justify her holding that position, to elevate her own ego. You, on the other hand,” he said, leaning nearer, “didn't enjoy it. You hated lighting into poor Barnes. That's the difference I was talking about. Even though you hold what is typically a man's job, make executive decisions daily, you never for one moment forget that you're a woman.” He was precariously close now. “Nor does anyone else.”
Josh's words made her stiffen with guilt. Wasn't she secretly planning to do exactly what he'd just praised her for not doing—cutting a man down to size just to elevate her own ego? Where once revenge had seemed so sweet, it now tasted foul in her mouth. Was there any honor in cutting a man down and reveling in doing it? Her motives were justifiable, but would other people see her as a grasping, clawing, vicious female who'd been scorned?
She felt the need to defend herself. “That's why I must constantly be on my guard, to make sure that no one takes advantage of me because of my sex.” He couldn't misinterpret the accusation in her voice.
“I've never taken advantage of that, Megan.”
“Haven't you?”
“I've used my position in the advertising field to benefit you. Granted, I wanted you to come on this trip for selfish reasons, but I also thought you needed a break from office pressures. To my knowledge I've never done anything that was detrimental or harmful to you, as a woman or as a professional.”