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a
conservative gray tweed blazer.
    “Oh no,” she answered too brightly. “I had a
huge breakfast. I should have ordered the half-size salad.”
    His eyes narrowed, and the predatory glint
she’d noticed upon her arrival returned. He glanced at the
preliminary plan, then back up. He rubbed a thumb along his strong,
square jaw.
    Magee’s heart thundered against her ribs. This is it. The
jig’s up .
    She waited for the guillotine blade to
drop.
    He opened his mouth. She sucked in a
breath.
    His mouth snapped shut. Her breath whooshed
out.
    “What?” Her voice squeaked. If the guillotine
didn’t get her, the suspense surely would.
    “You’ve done your homework. I like that.”
    Her homework? Phew . He didn’t know her secret, after
all.
    Good on ya, girl. Stay cool .
    Placing aside the hard copy, Justin retrieved
her tablet from the empty third place setting and browsed through
the presentation again. “Your idea to use magazines like Mountain Bike
Frenzy sounds expensive, but worth it. I’m impressed.”
    Magee tucked a lock of hair behind one ear.
Leaning forward, she bracketed her hands—with their ten flawless short raspberry nails—around her salad plate. The fishy scent of
anchovies assailed her nostrils, but she ignored it.
    “I’m glad to hear you say that, Justin,
because the market research clearly indicates two distinct
audiences for CycleMania’s advertising purposes. The first is the
recreational cyclist your stores currently target through local
Internet, radio, and newspaper spots. That approach is working
well. Aside from updating the ads, I see no reason to change it.
Streamlining the website and increasing the company’s social
networking efforts will make a difference, too.” Her finger bumped
the crouton out from beneath the napkin, exposing it to Justin’s
line of vision. Discreetly, she curled her pinky around the crouton
and nudged it toward the table edge. Another nudge…
    Tik-plop .
    The crouton ricocheted off her chair arm,
landing on her lap.
    “The second target audience,” she continued
with as much professionalism as she could muster, given the crouton
on her skirt, “is the cycling enthusiast. Specifically, the
hard-core mountain biker. Young. Hip. Radical. Intense. Serious
about the sport and willing to pay top dollar for the latest
innovations. For this particular audience, we need a medium with a
concentrated focus. Mountain Bike Frenzy is an excellent example.”
    Justin nodded, and she released a breath.
She’d sold him. She could sense it.
    “This is where Willoughby Bikes comes in,” he
said, returning her tablet to the table. He dipped his spoon into
his minestrone.
    “Exactly.” Taking her cue from her client,
Magee dug into her salad. She really did love garlic. Too bad her
breath preferred mints. “With the manufacturer picking up half the
cost to have their bikes featured in your ads, it’s a win-win.
Plus, the similarity between store and product names lends to great
short copy ideas. Picture a glossy spread in Mountain Bike Frenzy ending
with something snappy like, ‘The Cyclone. Available exclusively at
CycleMania.’ It has a nice ring to it, wouldn’t you agree?”
    “Provided I sign the deal with Nathan
Willoughby.”
    “You will.”
    “Yeah? I don’t know anymore.”
    Magee’s scalp tingled. She’d never before
heard Justin Kane speak of the CycleMania–Willoughby Bikes deal
with less than absolute confidence. “Why do you say that?”
    He didn’t answer, just eyed her, his
ring-less ring finger tapping staccato time on the table.
    She moistened her lips. “Uh, Justin?”
    “Something’s happened.”
    “What?” Please don’t say this ‘something’ could affect the
deal .
    “It’s personal, but…it could affect the
deal.”
    Argh . Magee held her breath. The substantial
advertising revenue inherent in Justin’s deal with Willoughby Bikes
would help repair the financial damage she’d caused her father’s
advertising agency