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expect no disruption.
    She was about to be very disruptive.
    She took a deep breath and walked out of the elevator.
     
    22
     
    Benson Bailey was one of the biggest advertising firms in New York, and it showed.
    The eighth floor was as impressive as the lobby had been. Photos were mounted on the walls - she thought they were original David Baileys. There was also a Hockney and a massive Jackson Pollock. Futuristic silver-leather furniture that looked like the miniskirt she’d worn yesterday was everywhere. Discreet stills from their more famous TV campaigns were mounted on every office door right over the nameplate.
    Lita marched up to the polished girl with the pearls sitting at the kidney-shaped reception table.
    ‘I’m here to see Mr Lancaster,’ she said smoothly. ‘I have an appointment.’
    The girl looked up sharply.
    ‘Mr Lancaster? I don’t see anything in Lord Lancaster’s book.’ Her eyes darted towards a corner oce. ‘I’ll have to check with his assistant,
    n’kiss.’
    Damn. Lord Lancaster. She should have checked; Bill said he was a limey, lookie mistake, Lita thought, angry with herself. She followed the suspicious girl’s line of sight.
    ‘I can’t help it that you don’t know how to keep appointments written down,’ she snapped, and marched across to the corner oce. She heard the girl getting up from her desk and padding across the thick white carpet after her, but she didn’t look back. Lita was used to running the streets of Soundview and this Upper East Sider was no match for her. Her hand closed or the office’s brass door and she pushed it open.
    A tall, thin, dark-haired, utterly gorgeous man in a pinstriped suit, his curly hair coming over his collar, was standing there with his assistant, a plump woman of forty. He stopped speaking, and his eyes flickered over Lita, taking in every inch of her, finally resting on her breasts.
    ‘I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop her. My lord,’ the girl said, flirting with him heavily even though she was out of breath. ‘I don’t know how she got past the lobby …’
    ‘Entirely my fault,’ the young man said smoothly, in an aristocratic English accent that turned Lita’s bones to water. ‘I forgot to notify Mrs
    Smith about this appointment. So nice to see you, Miss …’ ‘Morales,’ Lita said.
    ‘That’s it. Miss Morales. Won’t you come in?’
     
    3

Chapter 4
    He closed the door behind her.
    ‘Have a seat.’
    Rupert Lancaster gestured to her to sit down. His brows were slightly
    raised, and he was smiling slightly. Lita was used to beatnik art directors and account executives in flares and orange-and-purple print shirts. This classic look, the English tailoring and the sober tie, almost made her nervous. He looked damn good in it. He also looked serious.
    He was the first man she’d felt attracted to since Hector, and suddenly
    the last small pangs she’d felt for Hector disappeared. She knew they
    would never be back either. Rupert Lancaster was in a difference class.
    Lira sat down. ‘You’re Lord Rupert Lancaster?’
    ‘I’m Rupert, or Lord Lancaster. In your case, Rupert. I make it a
    point of not being stuffy with brave young women.’
    Lita blushed richly. She had been expecting him to say ‘beautiful young women’. The compliment was so much better this way. She had been brave. ‘Well, thank you anyway.’ ‘
    He settled back in his chair and looked her right in the eyes. Normally their gaze went straight to her breasts and hovered there throughout a meeting. Lira found she was breathing a little heavier. Man, she loved that accent. She loved those dark eyes, the aquiline nose and the dark hair just creeping over his collar.
    ‘Now. I assume you have something you want to say?’
    ‘Yes. You manage the Costa lica account. You’re looking for a new
    girl for the TV campaign.’
    ‘And you want to be considered.’
    ‘No. I don’t want to be considered. I want the job,’ Lita said boldly.
    He