The Perfect Proposal Read online

  Mitch blew out a breath. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “So, let me make sure I have this right. In order to become the next CEO of Hightower Advertising, I have to prove that I can sell a hot dog?”

  William beamed at his nephew as if Mitch were a slow-witted child who had answered a difficult question correctly. “Precisely.”

  Chapter Three

  Monday morning dawned bright and chilly. The autumn day was perfect for a warm sweater and a long walk in the park. Unfortunately, even if Annie had been in the mood to do such a thing—which she wasn’t—she wouldn’t have had the time. In over five years of service for Hightower Advertising, Annie had never missed a day of work, much less been late.

  Until today.

  And there was only one person to blame: Mitch Hightower.

  Annie had been up so late into the night thinking about possible campaigns and strategies against him, she hadn’t been able to get a decent night’s sleep. Then, to add insult to injury, he’d turned up in her dreams as well. And, to her ultimate irritation, not her nightmares. Having never had the much-fabled wet dream, Annie was amazed at how real one seemed. How vivid it had been. But why had her twisted subconscious cast Mitch as the role of lover? Annie shook her head. She didn’t understand it.

  Admittedly, she found him attractive. She’d had the opportunity to really study him at William’s house yesterday. Mitch had the sort of face that could mesmerize. Ruggedly masculine, all angles and smooth planes. A square jaw complimented a sexy cleft in his chin. Lips designed for sin and eyes the color of blue glass. Jet-black wavy hair that curled at the ends and would undoubtedly be his best feature when he awoke all tousled in the morning. Annie drew in a ragged breath. Oh, yes, there was no denying he was handsome.

  But far more appealing than any of these assets was the blatant sexuality that radiated from the man. Mitch was obviously comfortable in his own skin and confident in his ability to attract the opposite sex. An alpha male through and through.

  Just the kind she ordinarily didn’t like and never planned to get involved with.

  At fifteen past nine, Annie whipped her little coupe into a parking space. She grabbed her briefcase and speed walked to the office. Upon arrival, she buzzed her secretary to make certain that Lester Peters hadn’t arrived yet. To her relief, he hadn’t. When William had announced that she and Mitch would be competing for Lester’s business, Annie had initially been horrified.

  Les was an eccentric little cowboy who prided himself on his family and his ability to smoke a cigar from tip to butt without dropping an ash. In addition to his vast business accomplishments, Les had a pudgy finger in almost every pie from cattle to oil. He’d recently begun designing his own clothes. Annie grinned. The outfit she’d last seen him in had rivaled some of Elvis’ later getups.

  In addition, he adhered to the “hands-on” business approach and preferred to be included in every detail. In short, though she’d grown fond of the little dictator, he was very difficult to work with.

  Which was the exact trait that Annie was banking on to win this bizarre competition. She’d worked with Les before. Mitch hadn’t, and therefore he had no idea what sort of client they were dealing with. William asked Annie to give Mitch the lowdown on Les. She had. She’d told him everything could be found in a file. The rest Mitch would have to learn on his own. And she couldn’t wait to see that.

  Mitch tugged at the tie around his neck as he waited for the elevator to deliver him to the sixth floor of Hightower Plaza. He scowled. Hell, he hadn’t worn a damn tie to work in years. They were a bothersome accent, undoubtedly designed by a woman. A twisted woman. Probably ancestor of Annie Witherspoon’s, Mitch thought uncharitably.

  Yesterday Mitch had hoped for an afternoon alone with William. Had hoped to persuade his uncle to give up this harebrained scheme and give Mitch his rightful position as CEO. But then Annie had shown up and foiled his plan.

  Didn’t that woman ever stay at home? Did she make regular appearances at William’s house, or was this some new tactic to gain control over the company that his unsuspecting uncle hadn’t figured out yet? To his regret, Mitch doubted it; William had always been an excellent judge of character. Nevertheless, Mitch chose to think the worst of her. It made what he was about to do a lot easier.

  Because Mitch fully intended to win.

  He wouldn’t let a pair of big brown eyes come between him and his heritage. Even though she’d been a thorn in his side the majority of the weekend, he’d still managed to play a little defense. Via the Internet and company files, he’d gleaned every bit of information he could on Lester Peters. Annie had volunteered a generous amount of information on the meat magnate and, surprisingly she’d been truthful. Funny. He’d expected her to be more devious.

  At any rate, when he met Les Peters, he wanted to be prepared. Mitch had been out of the advertising business for a while, but he remembered that research on a prospective client was an excellent place to start. From what Mitch could discern, the mad had relatively simple tastes. Mitch envisioned a tall, distinguished older gentleman. A man who wore a designer suit, sensible shoes and kept a low profile. Mitch hadn’t been able to find a single photo of the man.

  Given all that he’d discovered, this job should be a cinch. In fact, he had several good ideas already, particularly one involving a picnic. He smiled confidently and rock back on his heels. It wouldn’t be that difficult. Hot dogs were an all-American staple. Who didn’t like them?

  After some consideration, Mitch had decided that Annie’s little groan when his uncle mentioned Les Peters had been designed to disconcert him. Well, it wouldn’t work.

  At last, the elevator glided to a stop. A smile firmly in place, Mitch stepped into the office. A short, plump woman with soft gray curls glanced up. A warm smile adorned her round face. “You must be Mitch.” She vacated her chair and bustled around the desk. “I’m Louise. Your uncle has told me all about you. Come. They’re waiting for you.” She herded him toward an office. “All the others are here.”

  Already? Damn. He didn’t like being the last one to show up at a meeting like this. Who knew what could have been said before he arrived? Besides, one could learn a lot from small talk.

  Louise rapped on his uncle’s door, then pushed it open. “Here’s our straggler,” she trilled, much to Mitch’s mortification.

  There went her Christmas bonus, Mitch thought sourly. He smiled anyway. “Thanks, Louise.”

  “Quite welcome, dear. Would you like some coffee?” When he declined, she left the room.

  Mitch put on a suitably apologetic expression and looked at the occupants of the room. His gaze move right, landing first on Annie, who occupied one of the leather wing chairs flanking his uncle’s desk. She looked particularly pleased for some reason, Mitch noted grimly. Whatever had put that grin on her gorgeous face had to be at his expense.

  A second later, he zoomed in on his uncle and he nodded his good morning. At last, his gaze swung to the only remaining wingchair. Mitch frowned. It was empty. Funny. Mitch had been under the impression that—

  “No, dumplin’!” a loud baritone exclaimed. “We will not be servin’ chicken at our family reunion! Tell Cookie to forget it. Do I raise chickens? Nooo,” he thundered in answer to his own question. “I raise beef! Honestly, who ever heard of such madness?”

  Thoroughly puzzled, Mitch inspected the seemingly empty wingchair again. Then he saw them. Little boots attached to short legs dangled from the chair, but didn’t quite reach the floor. One step further into the room revealed the top of a white cowboy hat barely visible below the seat back.

  “I know, sugar-pie, I know. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everythin’ as soon as I get home. Love you too, darlin’. Mmm-hmm,” he cooed, then giggled. “Stop that, you little vixen. You’re gonna make me blush in front of these fine folks. Al’right. Bye-bye.” An electronic beep indicated the call was over.

  Uncle William smiled and waved Mitch forward
. “Come in, son. Come in.”

  Mitch hesitantly stepped forward. Les Peters peeked around the wing chair and smile broadly as Mitch drew near. With a grunt, the tiny cowboy sprung from this chair and extended his little hand. “Hi, there! I’m Les Peters! Glad to meet you!” Smiling, he pumped Mitch’s hand up and down vigorously. “Heard a lot about you. Your uncle says you’re some sort of computer guru as well as an advertising whiz. Diversity, I like that in a man.”

  Mitch struggled to keep his jaw from dropping. “Nice to meet you, too, sir. I’ve, uh, heard a lot about you as well.”

  “All good, I hope,” Les proclaimed in a voice that would be more suited for the Jolly Green Giant than the little elf it belonged to. And an elf would undoubtedly have better taste.

  Mitch couldn’t begin to imagine where the man did his shopping. Circus City, perhaps? The Barnum and Bailey Outlet Mall? The white leather outfit he wore had elaborate stitching to match every color of the rainbow and so many multicolored rhinestones that it was near painful to the naked eye. Satin fringe flared from the arms, giving the impression of some sort of exotic bird. A giant silver and turquoise belt buckle completed the mind-boggling ensemble.

  Les Peters smiled broadly. “I see you’re admiring my suit. Don’t worry. When you get to the ranch, we’ll fix you up.” He chuckled and gave Mitch’s Armani suit a less than charitable look. “Put some color in your life. Olive ain’t a color. Why everybody wants to wear something the shade of a dried-up cow pie beats me.”

  Before Mitch could contemplate any of those cryptic statements, the flamboyant little man hopped back into his wing chair. “Okay. Let’s get this steer branded. Time’s a-wastin’. The little woman his ready to pull her purty hair out, what with all this family reunion malarkey goin’ on.”

  “Mitch, Annie,” William said, looking to each in turn. “Les and I have had an opportunity to talk and we’ve decided that in order to see that he’s happy with our services, we’re going to have to go at this campaign from a different angle.”

  Mitch saw Annie stiffen. “How different?” she asked.

  “Well —”

  “If you don’t mind, William,” Les interrupted. “I think I can get this puppy roped faster.”

  He turned to Annie. “It’s like this, sweet cakes. I don’t want your regular ol’ hot dog commercial.” His oval face puckered in distaste. “I’m tired of the picnic scenario,” he said, shooting Mitch’s first stroke of genius all to hell. “I’m tire of the jingles.” He flapped his arms, sending the fringe into motion. “I want something that will make every man, woman and child in this great country want a hot dog, right now. I want ‘em to eat ‘em for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I want the Winning Wiener to be a household name.”

  “I’m sure we can make that happen,” Annie told him, smiling politely.

  “Absolutely,” Mitch confirmed, reluctant to let Annie score all the brownie points during this first meeting. She shot him a scathing look.

  “Eh-yep, I haven’t a doubt or I wouldn’t be here.” Les frowned. “But with all this family reunion hoopla goin’ on, I ain’t got the time to hop in a jet and come up here every time one of you has a brainstorm. That’s why I’ve decided that you need to come to the Triple P. I want you to tour the ranch, look at the facilities. See how the whole Peters operation is run. Maybe it’ll give you some ideas.” Les smacked his chubby thighs and bounded from his chair. “Well, that takes care of business. Gotta go,” he announced. “I’ll have the guest cottage readied. I’d invite ya’ll to stay in the main house, but with all the relatives, there isn’t room…” He smiled apologetically. “Anyhoo,” he sighed, “I’ll send another plane back for you all bright and early in the mornin’. See you then.” He shook everyone’s hand and gave William a wink. “Take care now, ya hear?” Then, in rustle of leather and glittering rhinestones, he sped across the room and out the door.

  Annie gaped at William. Should couldn’t possibly have heard Les right. “Are you telling me that we have to go to Texas? He and I?” She pointed at Mitch. “Together?”

  William nodded, confirming her fears. “You heard the man. He doesn’t have time to come here.”

  Panic roared through Annie’s veins. Her head began to shake of its own volition. She darted a look at Mitch, thankful for once they seemed to be in agreement. His gorgeous mouth was set in a grim line, indicating that he didn’t relish the idea of going to Texas either.

  “No. Uh-uh,” Annie said. “I refuse to go. That’s the most preposterous idea I’ve ever heard.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I have other commitments here, Les. Other clients.”

  “You know, Uncle William,” Mitch chimed in to her relief. “I agree with Annie. She shouldn’t go. She can’t just take off. Furthermore it takes more than an idea to make a campaign come together. What about art? Graphics?” Mitch shook his head as though the idea were preposterous. “It’s crazy…” He sighed. “But I can go,” he said accommodatingly. “I don’t have any obligations here at the moment.”

  Annie shot him a withering look. The sneaky bastard. “I don’t think it’s necessary that either of us go. It’s ridiculous.”

  William sighed. “I agree that it’s a little odd,” he commiserated. “But if one goes, the other goes. It wouldn’t be fair otherwise. As for the other problems that Mitch pointed out, you each have a laptop. You’ll have a fax. Given that, it won’t be particularly difficult to arrange things on this end.” He smiled. “Think of it as a vacation.”

  “Well, whether it is or isn’t, I’m not going to Texas,” Annie repeated stubbornly. She leaned forward and stared at William beseechingly. “Didn’t you hear Les? He said we’d have to stay in the guest house. I can’t stay with him,” she hissed, jerking her head in Mitch’s direction. The very thought of it made Annie’s stomach knot. Geez, she’d never get any sleep knowing he was in the same house with her.

  Mitch frowned at her tactless remark. “I don’t think —”

  William smiled, interrupting Mitch. “What’s the problem, Annie? You find my nephew so irresistible that you couldn’t share a house with him for a couple of weeks?”

  Mitch smiled smugly at Annie. Immediately she bristled. “Certainly not. It just wouldn’t look right, that’s all.”

  “Since when have you not been able to go on a business trip with a man?” William asked, growing impatient. “This is a business deal—and there’s a lot riding on it, I might add.”

  Annie refused to give up hope that she could make William see reason. “B-but we hardly know each other,” she sputtered.

  “I know,” William said matter-of-factly, further pressing his case. “All the more reason to go. Regardless of the outcome, the two of you will be working together. It’s important that you get to know each other, and that you work well together.”

  Frankly, Annie didn’t see that happening. Not now, not ever. She and Mitch get along? She cast a skeptical glance at his handsome profile. The man was too insufferable, too infuriating—and too sexy, too gorgeous. Dammit, she didn’t mean to attach any flattering adjectives to his image. But what could she do? She simply couldn’t go to Texas with Mitch.

  An innate sense of self-preservation prompted her next words. She’d never uttered them before in her life, so it was with extreme annoyance that she finally did.

  “I can’t,” she told William with an imploring look.

  William gave her a sad smile. “I’m afraid you don’t understand, Annie. If you want this position, you don’t have a choice.”

  Mitch grinned maddeningly. “Well I guess we should go pack our bags…roomie.”

  Annie didn’t bother saying what she was thinking. If hell was in Texas, she’d be there shortly.

  Chapter Four

  Indeed, hell was in Texas. Or at least it felt like it. Annie pulled at her fashionable fall tunic as she trudged across the hot tarmac outside of the small Petersville airport and wished that she’d had the forethought to wear something more suited
to a Texas autumn.

  Like Mitch, Annie thought irritably, glaring at his broad, summer-knit covered back. Much to her annoyance, he’d arrived bright-eyed and chipper this morning. Annie had never been a morning person, and quite frankly, didn’t enjoy being around one either. That Mitch appeared to have that very disposition only irritated Annie further and reminded her of their differences. How could she possibly live with the man for two weeks?

  Mitch paused for her to catch up, then aimed a devastating smile in her direction. “Isn’t this great?”

  Annie eyed him warily. “Isn’t what great?”

  Mitch pulled in a deep breath and savored the air as Annie would a spoonful of homemade ice cream. “The climate, the heat. It’s an Indian summer,” he confided with a wink. “The very best.”

  Annie gave him a whatever-you-say look and brushed by him. Okay, so he had a point. Annie imagined that if she were dressed properly she would be enjoying the warm air on her skin, and the clean dry scent wafting on the light breeze.

  But she wasn’t. She was dressed for winter, therefore she was hot. Besides, Annie wasn’t in the mood to be happy. Her orderly life was spinning out of control and Mitch Hightower was no small part in the problem. Furthermore, it would be a whole lot easier to stay annoyed with the man if he weren’t so damned charming.

  Mitch loped up beside her as they neared the limo, shortening his long stride to accommodate her shorter one. “So how far is it from here to the ranch?” he asked.

  “How should I know? I’ve never been here before.”

  “You haven’t?”

  “No.” Annie handed her carry-on to the driver, made sure her other bags were stored, then slid into the car. Mitch did the same, then crowded next to her. Annie frowned. There were several yards of seat back here. Did he have to sit so close? It was hard to ignore him in any amount of space, much less with his thigh intimately pressed against hers.