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Whoa, he was getting personal. She fluttered her eyelashes. “I’d rather not say.”
A half smile crossed his perfectly shaven face. She’d kind of liked him scruffy and rough-looking yesterday. “You opened this line of inquiry.”
“I’ll tell you if you’ll tell me.”
His pause was just long enough for her to think he’d say no. Then he shrugged. “Fine. You go first.”
“I don’t keep a tally or anything, but around ten months. I think.”
He looked at her for an instant too long, then frowned. “You disappoint me.”
“Quit stalling. How long for you?”
A knock sounded at the door and Dillon craned his neck around the frame. “Hey, bro, did you finish those reports for the Carlton store yet? If not, I can handle them.” He glanced at Vicky and grinned, his blue eyes warming about fifty degrees hotter than his brother’s ever did. “Hey Vickster.”
“I’ll e-mail you what I have so far. I had trouble getting the projections to line up.” Cory didn’t sound pleased about that fact, but when did he ever sound happy?
“I’ll take care of it,” Dillon offered.
Cory shoved a thick folder at his brother. “We’ll go over the numbers later. I have business with Victoria.”
“Gotcha.” Dillon shot her a grin. “Don’t strain his brain too much, kid.”
She grinned back and noted Cory’s sudden glacial chill. It was kinda hot how he could turn it on at the drop of a dime. “I’ll be gentle with him, don’t worry.”
There was no missing Cory’s grim expression as Dillon shut the door behind him.
They spent the next ninety minutes going over photos from Simply Home’s interior layouts. Vicky helped design the basic page mock-ups, then the graphic designer executed the plan. Cory usually provided input that pissed them both off.
Today, however, he seemed to be in a conciliatory mood. Shockingly, they quickly reached a compromise and selected pictures from both Cory’s high-end design and her own country-chic choice. The accompanying article would explain how the same room could be taken from casual to sophisticated by using affordable materials and accessories found at Value Hardware.
“So I had an idea.”
He pretended to shudder, though she glimpsed the amusement in his eyes. “And the earth rejoiced.”
“The Helping Hands houses would be the perfect tie-in between the company and the magazine. It’d be easier to stage them than an empty set and probably more cost-effective, too.” She propped her sketch pad against her knee and waited for his objections. They never came.
“That’s Dillon’s area. I don’t have much to do with the charity, other than supporting it financially of course. There just aren’t enough hours.”
“So I’ll work with Dillon.”
His rapid head shake made her frown. “That won’t be necessary. I’m sure we can figure something out.”
“Somehow I doubt it, since you hate all my ideas.” Vicky shoved the photos back into her portfolio. “My favorite was the problem you had with the window treatments.”
“I preferred the bamboo blinds,” he said evenly.
“I don’t tell you how to do your job,” she returned. “Stop haranguing me on how to do mine.”
He stroked his tie and her mind shot back to their conversation yesterday—when he’d briefly stroked something else. “I have never harangued you.”
“Says you.”
“Fine. Have it your way.” He spread his hands, palms up. He was well-endowed hand-wise. Even his wrist, outfitted with a gold Rolex, was thick enough that she’d wondered for years what exactly he had going on downstairs. In this case, knowledge was definitely not power, because she wanted to leap across the desk and straddle his lap. “This is your area of expertise. Do as you would like, though there is one detail you’ve neglected. Since the winter issue releases before the holiday season, you might add a few festive touches, at least on the cover. Assuming it doesn’t interfere with your vision.”
He was just baiting her, something he was superior at. But she wasn’t in the mood to be toyed with. “You got a problem with my vision, Santangelo? Come over on to this side of the desk and we can discuss it.”
He gave her a slow, smug smile. “Retract the claws, kitten.”
