“Good question,” she replied. “This is a VIP event, and if they’ve forgotten about us, then we’ve failed. Resending it feels desperate.”
Katy tapped her pen on her lips. “And if we’ve failed?”
Olivia smiled.
Katy was a little firecracker and was learning fast. The thing about media relations was much of it was using your instincts, and while there was a strategy to it, you could never be sure where people’s loyalty was from day to day.
So you had to stay in reactive mode, and not play your cards too soon.
“Then we’re in trouble.” She laughed, then pursed her lips. “I tell you what. Why don’t you two hit Frame Bar on Wednesday night? Take the corporate credit card—but don’t go crazy—and see what you overhear.”
Frame Bar was the hot spot for NYC reporters during the week. Unless there was a story breaking, many of them were there rubbing shoulders with each other, networking.
“Undercover PR. I like it.” Thomas grinned.
Katy laughed and jumped up to get the card from Olivia’s desk. “Can we drop into the new hotel and have a look around beforehand so we can legitimately rave about how awesome it is?”
Olivia waved her hand. “Of course, sorry, I should have invited you today, but it was last minute. Ring Aaron’s secretary and arrange a time to go down. Here’s a few snapshots.”
She slid her phone across the table and the three of them began looking through the photos she had taken.
“What’s up with Fletcher?” Thomas asked, narrowing his eyes. Olivia frowned and moved to glance at the photo he was referring to. “He looks... mad or something.”
Fletcher wasn’t angry. He was staring at her as she took the photo, tortured with need.
Just as she was.
This was bad. Really bad.
“Let’s choose one with just Daniel.”
––––––––
AFEW HOURS LATER,Olivia slid her bag onto her shoulder and turned to leave her office when she found Fletcher standing in the doorway.
She froze beside her desk.
“Hey.”
“Can we talk?”
“Of course,” she said as he stepped in and closed the door behind him.
“I wanted to apologize for this morning. It completely goes against company policy and was inappropriate of me.” He plunged his hands into his pockets.
His jacket was gone, and his white shirt was rolled up those muscular forearms. On his wrist the large silver watch he wore most days snagged on the material of his pants and his tie was slightly loosened showing an inch or two of naturally tanned smooth skin.
Not that she should be noticing those things.
Olivia averted her gaze, trying to pretend he was just any other colleague.
She failed.
“Fletcher. You don’t need—”
“I do. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable at work, Olivia,” Fletcher said.
Olivia.Not Liv.