One Mad Night Read Online Free Page B

her presentation and ad one last time.
    It was rock solid, and Chelsea smiled to herself, very happy with her work. She would definitely get this account; there was no question in her mind. She’d done everything she could possibly do to prepare. There was nothing else she could do to improve it—it was the perfect ad for a perfect car.
    She’d lost two out of three accounts to Ian in the last few months, but that was not enough to pull her spirits down. Jason had told her this was her account. No one could argue that her idea didn’t hit the sweet spot of advertising. How could they not give it to her?
    Full of optimism, she fairly bounced out of the media room, surprised to find the floor almost completely deserted at only four o’clock. The only lights she could see were coming from Ian’s cubicle and from Sarah’s.
    Had everyone bailed because of the snow? Chelsea wondered if maybe she should head home too.
    In her cubicle, Chelsea gathered her things, taking care to include everything she would need to prepare for tomorrow. Attention to detail, in her mind, was what had made her successful in this business. By the end of next week, maybe she would be in the empty corner office that overlooked Gramercy Park. Well. Not overlooked it, exactly, but if you stood in the corner and leaned right, you could see the edge of the park. And you didn’t see the CVS on the corner at all.
    Okay, maybe the vacant corner office didn’t have much of a view, but it was an office . It had a door, and the door could be closed, and quiet could reign. She could talk on the phone without Farrah overhearing everything she said. She could think. The raise Chelsea would get was great, but that office…that was the best part of the whole thing.
    Chelsea pulled on her old tennis shoes and stuffed her Manolos into her tote bag in the allotted shoe spots. She donned a jacket, a car coat over that, and then a raincoat over that. Next came her earmuffs and the hat with the orange fluff ball on top—not exactly the chicest thing Chelsea owned, but definitely the warmest. Last, but certainly not least, she had her mittens in hand. She managed to wedge her tote over her arm and onto her shoulder and started for the elevator.
    She stopped by to say good night to Sarah, but Sarah was gone. She’d forgotten to turn off her light. Chelsea did it for her. Now, the only light was Ian’s. She made a slight detour to go around to his cubicle.
    â€œOh,” she said, mildly surprised to see he was still in the office when she stuck her head around the wall.
    Ian started. “Hi.” He took in her outerwear, tapping a pen against a blank legal notepad. He looked up at her hat and the orange ball and said something. Chelsea was fairly certain he said nice hat , but with her hat and earmuffs, it was a little hard to tell.
    She pushed back her earmuffs. “So, everyone took off a little early, huh?”
    â€œLooks like it,” he said. “The snow’s gotten pretty bad.”
    â€œAren’t you going home?”
    â€œNot yet.” He tossed the pen down and stretched his arms high before folding them over his chest. “I’ve got a few things I want to do first.”
    Chelsea couldn’t resist. “You look a little anxious. Maybe I can help you punch it up. Your pitch, I mean. You’re worried about your pitch, right?”
    A slow smile of amusement moved across Ian’s face. “Thanks…but I’m not sure you can offer anything that could improve what I’ve got. It’s solid.”
    â€œWow. No improvement possible. That must be some pitch.”
    â€œI didn’t say it was impossible to improve it. I said it was impossible for you to improve it.”
    Chelsea laughed. She tried to fold her arms. But given the number of pieces of outerwear she was wearing, her arms bounced back to her side. “Just for clarification, which pitch is it that