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Rafi knew that, despite his obvious approval of her marketing ideas, the rest of the marketing staff suspected that Carys was about to be fired, which was ridiculous since he’d just told them to emulate her concepts. Let them think whatever they wanted, as long as they did their jobs.

They’d been systematically beaten down and humiliated by the imbecile director and then crushed under the assistant director’s very spiky heel.

If Dave and Tanya had worked to create an atmosphere of idea-sharing instead of one that forced competition, then there wouldn’t be a sense of doom looming over the staff now.

Rafi watched quietly as the staff filed from the conference room. Some looked hopeful, but most were wary. Soon, the room had cleared, except for Dave and Carys.

The director puffed up his chest as he reached for his ugly tie, straightening the knot self-importantly. “We should have a conversation prior to your meeting with Carys.”

Rafi glanced at the shorter man, hoping the contempt he felt was adequately hidden. Probably not.

“We’ll talk later, Dave,” Rafi stated firmly. “Right now, I need to speak with Carys.”

“Those aren’t her ideas!” Dave snapped.

Rafi turned, giving the man his full attention. “Then who created them?” he asked, tapping his forefinger on the sketchbook.

“They’re my ideas,” Dave asserted. “I told Carys about them months ago, and asked her to flesh them out a bit.” He stared up at Rafi, willing him to believe him.

Rafi glanced at Carys, noticing that she looked wounded and angry, frowning at the floor.

But she didn’t say anything. Apparently, the lovely Carys didn’t assert herself, even though Rafi was one hundred percent certain that Dave was lying.

But his claim meant that he couldn’t fire the ass as he’d planned.

He should have realized Dave’s nature sooner, but he’d been too eager to find Carys again.

Dave was sticking to his lie, building on it. “Unfortunately, Carys never got back to me about them.”

Rafi nodded. “Well, they are brilliant ideas.” He tapped the sketchbook again. “We’re going with this concept for the shoes. I’ll get Carys to start on the campaign.”

Dave glanced over at Carys, fury in his hazel eyes. When the shorter man looked back at Rafi, he was still angry, but there was now a hint of worry in the director’s eyes. And that, more than anything, told him that the guy was trying to steal Carys’s ideas.

Dave shook his head. “She’s not strong enough or experienced enough to run a campaign on her own.”

Rafi lifted a dark eyebrow, but then crossed his arms over his chest. “I hear your concerns, Dave. Thank you for sharing them with me.”

The director huffed a bit, but he recognized the dismissal. The man shot one more venomous glance in Carys’s direction before he left the conference room.

Rafi then turned to Carys, noting the anger and tension in her shoulders.

She wasn’t too thin, which was good. He’d dated reed thin women in the past and, looking at Carys’s round, soft curves, he realized that he suddenly preferred women with more softness to them.

Carys was gorgeous from the top of her blond, beautiful head to her boot-tipped toes.

Had she been wearing boots earlier? He hadn’t noticed, which was significant because he kinda had a thing for women who wore boots. Leather boots were his favorite, but boots with heels…! He was in lust!

Lifting his eyes from her feet, Rafi looked down into her pretty, blue eyes. “We didn’t get around to names earlier. I’m Rafi,” he said, finally introducing himself. He extended his hand.

“I’m Carys,” she replied, her voice appealingly soft. “Carys Remington.” Her fingers were cold as Rafi wrapped his fingers around hers. The sensation felt like a lightning bolt and he stepped closer, watching with interest as her eyes widened.

“Your dog is very sweet.”

Rafi nodded, then realized that he was staring. He started slightly and released her hand, then immediately regretted it. He enjoyed touching her. She was soft and sweet. Immediately, he wondered what it would feel like to hold her in his arms.

Clearing his throat, Rafi looked down at her sketchpad, tapping it with his finger.

“I didn’t mean to be nosy, but you forgot this on the bench in the park.

I glanced through the pages, looking for a name so I could return it to you.

” He flipped open the sketchpad again and pointed to the running shoe concept.

“Did you come up with this idea yourself?”

She shrugged, nodding and glancing at the sketches, running her hand over the images on the page.

“It was inspired by something someone said one morning. One of my co-workers had gotten into a fight with her husband the previous night, and then went for a run to clear her head, then they’d talked things through later that night.

” She indicated the page that outlined someone running through the streets, flashes of stress popping into her mind; screaming baby, angry husband, demanding boss.

In each of the squares, the woman just kept moving, with a close up on her feet moving along the street that focused on the shoes.

By the end of her run, she feels more relaxed.

The subconscious message is the shoes relieved the day’s stress.

“It’s brilliant. We’re going with it.” He closed the sketchbook. “And you left this as well,” he explained, pulling the single piece of paper out of his jacket pocket. “I didn’t read it. But I found your name at the top.”

The woman glanced at the letter and looked horrified. Then she shoved the letter into her pocket and schooled her expression to blandly professional. “Well, I’d better get back to work then.”

“Have dinner with me tonight,” he blurted out, then silently cursed himself.

That was not particularly smooth and he could see by the look in her eyes that she was going to reject his offer.

“I’d like to talk to you more about some of the other concepts you’ve drawn up.

” He shifted slightly, leaning against the conference room table, trying not to loom over her.

He knew that some people were intimidated by height and Rafi wanted to appear as approachable as possible.

“You’re quite creative.” He flipped through the pages.

“And your drawings are…excellent. Did you study art in school?”

“Actually, I studied marketing.” She shifted on her feet and he watched her eyes. They were so pretty! And so revealing. He watched as several expressions flitted through those eyes and wondered what she was thinking.

“Why don’t we…?”

“Sir,” Dave interrupted, poking his head back into the room.

Rafi turned to frown at the marketing director. Then straightened to his full height when the ass glanced at Carys and smirked knowingly.

“Sorry to interrupt, but you wanted to discuss the marketing budget for the next launch, sir.”

Rafi nodded sharply, wishing he could just fire the ass on the spot. Instead, he said, “I’ll be with you in a minute.” He waited until they were alone again, then sighed. “What about it? Dinner tonight? Will that work?”

She nodded, the overhead lights making her blond hair sparkle around her shoulders.

“Yes. Fine. Dinner would be great. I’ll bring my other ideas and we can discuss them in more detail,” she agreed and grabbed her sketchbook, pressing it to her chest. Lucky sketchbook, he thought as he watched her hurry out of the conference room.

Damn, she was lovely! And intriguing! What was in the letter she’d hurriedly shoved into her pocket? He should have read it when he had the chance, but hadn’t wanted to intrude more than he already had.

An unexpected noise behind him interrupted Rafi’s contemplation.

Dave. The marketing director really was a pain in the ass!

And, apparently, an eavesdropper too. With a silent sigh, he turned and left the room, fighting to hide his dislike for the marketing director as he passed him in the hallway.

The man seemed to run a tight program. Too tight.

The creativity was smothered and that wasn’t the way to produce good ideas.