Read Ship of Dreams (Dreams Come True Series Book 2) Online
Authors: Rebecca Heflin
Ship of Dreams (Dreams Come True Series Book 2)
Table of Contents
SHIP OF DREAMS
Dreams Come True Series, Book II
REBECCA HEFLIN
SOUL MATE PUBLISHING
New York
SHIP OF DREAMS
Copyright©2015
REBECCA HEFLIN
Cover Design by Rae Monet, Inc.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Published in the United States of America by
Soul Mate Publishing
P.O. Box 24
Macedon, New York, 14502
ISBN: 978-1-61935-706-8
www.SoulMatePublishing.com
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
To Yvonne. You know why.
Acknowledgements
Once again, I’d like to thank my ensemble of beta readers: Lynda, Yvonne, Susan, Paul, and of course, my hubby, Ron. Your feedback is invaluable. And Ron, thanks for correcting my golf mistakes.
I also owe a debt of gratitude to Ryan and Ashley, my very own advertising couple who kept me out of the weeds when it came to all things advertising.
To my fashionista friend, Nina, thanks for helping me find the perfect wedding dress.
To my fabulous editor, Debby, you make me a better writer. Always.
Finally, thanks to my readers. Without you, this wouldn’t be possible.
The course to true love never did run smooth.
— Shakespeare
Chapter 1
Laura Armstrong strode toward the building housing the New York offices of Imperial Cruise Lines. Her stiletto heels clicked a staccato on the sidewalk as she tested the limits of her snug pencil skirt.
Tapping out a message on her smartphone, her mind five steps ahead, she nearly took a header when the heel of her shoe plunged into a sidewalk seam. The text message all but forgotten, she twisted and turned, unable to dislodge the stubborn heel.
Risking a tear in the cherry-red patent leather of her sky-high Louboutin ankle-straps—the ones with the plunging vamp revealing her sexy toe cleavage—wasn’t an option. But between the ankle-strap and her figure-hugging skirt, she couldn’t slip out of the shoe, nor could she bend over and unfasten it either.
Perfect. She’d be late for her meeting with Imperial’s CEO.
Daddy Dearest thought Giddings-Rose couldn’t handle an account the size of Imperial. Check that. He thought she couldn’t win an account the size of Imperial.
Determined to prove her father wrong, she’d get the account and the corner office. That was, if she could pry her heel out of the sidewalk.
Bustling New Yorkers in suits and skirts just stepped around her, dodging her like an out-of-place trashcan. “Well, sh—”
“Hold still, sugar, or you’ll break the heel.”
The masculine voice called to mind the mellow sweetness of the fine Kentucky bourbon she’d once sipped at the Derby. Rich and mellifluous, with a hint of Southern graciousness. Even so, there was no denying the authoritative tone. “And that would be a damn shame.” The hand that wrapped around her ankle from behind was broad and masculine, but well-manicured, topped with an elegant Cartier watch.
Not her type. She preferred her men with a little more grit than polish. So why did tantalizing warmth spread up her leg?
With adept fingers, he unbuckled the ankle strap and lifted her foot from the still-lodged shoe. Having no other choice to avoid either resting her bare foot on the filthy Manhattan sidewalk or the humiliation of falling on her face, she reached back and grabbed his shoulder.
Hmm. No padding there. Nothing but muscle beneath that expensive tropical-weight wool suit. She caught a glimpse of charcoal-gray fabric, dark hair, and Italian shoes in rich mahogany leather.
But she’d yet to lay eyes on her rescuer’s face.
Nathan Maxwell took advantage of the up-close and personal view. Trim ankles met shapely, muscular calves, and judging from the fit of her skirt, a firm derriere topped off those swimsuit-model legs. Beneath his touch, soft skin beckoned further exploration. Long, honey-blond hair hung almost to her waist in a sleek ponytail. The fragrance of her haute couture perfume drifted over him, reminding him of magnolia-scented summer nights.
Focusing on the task at hand, he gently pried the heel from the sidewalk seam and examined it. “No harm done.” He grasped her ankle and settled her foot back into the shoe and fastened the strap, but not before noticing the firecracker red nail polish. He laughed. “Here you go, Cinderella.”
The warmth of his laugh slid over her, knocking her a little off balance even though she’d placed her foot firmly back on the ground. “Thank you, uh . . .” She turned and looked up into golden-brown eyes the color of that same sweet Kentucky bourbon.
“Nathan, Nathan Maxwell. My pleasure, ma’am.” He flashed a devastating grin, igniting gilded sparks in his eyes.
There was that southern drawl again—subtle, like the peach undertones of a fine pinot gris. “You’re not from around here, are you?” she asked.
Her sardonic smile weakened Nathan’s knees more than any toothy grin ever did. “My accent give me away?”
“No, your courtesy.”
Nathan chuckled. “My grandmother would have expected nothing less.” The woman’s eyes, cool blue like the May sky overhead, captured his and held. No shrinking violet, this one, he mused. A full, determined mouth painted to match the red of her toenails set off an arresting face with high cheekbones, a stubborn chin, and aquiline nose.
“Well, thank you, Nathan.” Maybe she should add suave, polished men with a hint of Rhett Butler to her menu, Laura thought. Her phone, all but forgotten in her hand, buzzed. “I, uh, I’ve got to go. Thanks again, Nathan Maxwell.” Something about the way his name rolled off her tongue . . .
“This is Laur
a,” she said into her phone as she walked away.
Nathan watched as she strode down the sidewalk, hips swaying to some inherent rhythm. “Come on, Laura, glance back.” She turned and gave him what he wanted, another glimpse of that bold, beautiful face.
“It’s going to be a great day.” Glancing at his watch, satisfied with the outcome of the errand that brought him to this part of Manhattan in the first place, he hailed a cab back to his office.
Giving herself a menta
l snap-out-of-it slap to shake the charming Rhett Butler from her thoughts and focus on the goal, Laura briefed Katie, the head of the Giddings-Rose research team, on her latest project.
“I’m going to need the demographics on Imperial Cruise Lines, and its three closest competitors, ASAP.”
“We’re going after Imperial? What happened to Kendall-Monroe?”
“Fired. And use your street team to find out the inside scoop on Kendall-Monroe and Hawk Media. I’m on my way to meet with the CEO of Imperial now.”
“Damn, woman, you work fast.”
“Jackson Jefferies is a long-time friend of the family, so getting a sit down was easy. Convincing him to listen to someone besides my father is a different story.”
Jackson Jeffries was the CEO of the cruise line, one of her father’s closest friends . . . and one of her father’s best customers. Her family’s shipbuilding business built Imperial’s liners, and Jackson relied heavily on her father’s counsel.
While at her best friend’s wedding over the weekend, Laura’s father had received an email from Jackson saying they’d fired their advertising agency. Since her irksome father had already given a competitor agency a heads-up that Imperial was in the market, time was of the essence.
“If anyone can convince him, it’s you. You could sell moonshine to a teetotaler.”
“Thanks. I think. Anyway, wish me luck.”
“Good luck. And call me when you’re done.”
Laura stashed her phone and entered the cool two-story lobby, walking directly to the security desk. After signing in, she took the elevators to the top floor for one of the most important meetings of her career.
A full-service advertising agency, Giddings-Rose had made a name for itself creating ad campaigns for traditional Fortune 500 companies, including insurance companies, department stores, banks, airlines, and manufacturers. But Laura’s goal was to drag Giddings-Rose kicking and screaming into the twenty-first century, with accounts who wanted rich media campaigns, digital brand development, interactive marketing and communications strategy, and pay-per-click campaign management. The future of advertising.
When she’d first approached Curt, the agency’s VP of Business Development, about Imperial and its needs he’d been skeptical, but the agency couldn’t count a cruise line among its accounts, and having one would look good in its portfolio. And on his resume.
“What do you want, Laura?” Curt had asked.
She’d used her tough-minded skills on him. “I
want
your job, but I bring you Imperial, I’ll take the VP of Client Management that’s coming open.”
“You bring me Imperial, and we’ll talk about it.”
“No.” She approached his desk. “I’ve reeled in some big fish for this agency. It’s time I reaped the rewards of all that hard work. Dammit, Curt, you know I deserve it.”
Curt held her gaze. “I know. Look, I’ll go to bat for you, but I can’t promise anything.”
“That’s all I’m asking. Thanks, Curt.”
The elevator doors opened on the lobby of Imperial Cruise Lines, bringing Laura back to the present. She took a deep breath and stepped onto the polished marble floor with all the determination of a gladiator stepping into the Roman Colosseum. “Showtime.”
Nathan sat down at his desk, as his assistant foll
owed him in with phone messages and meeting requests. He’d only been at Hawk Media a week and he already had a full schedule.
“Mr. McCutcheon would like to see you when you get a moment, and I need you to sign these forms for your corporate credit card.” Cassie placed the stack of messages on the desk and handed him the forms.
“Thanks, Cassie. This credit card can’t come soon enough. I need you to book a trip for me. Here’s all the information.” Nathan handed her a brochure with the ship circled. He didn’t care what itinerary, as long as he got on that ship. He’d already completed the company’s travel profile so Cassie would know his preferences. “And I need it booked first thing.”