Madison Avenue Shoot Read Online Free PDF

face immediately flooded with pleasure. “Perfect, Kip,” she said.
    “You really like it? I mean, thanks. Just thanks,” Kip said, bouncing on his toes, obviously pleased.
    “Don’t forget what I said, though.” She looked at him sternly.
    He grinned at her, then moved his fingers over his lips as if zipping them shut. He backed away from us awkwardly, raised his hand in a wave, and walked quickly to his computer at the nearest pod.
    Betsy flashed a brief smile at Grady and me, and continued on, stopping at a curved wall on the loft’s periphery. “Ah, here we are.” She tapped on a door that had no knob. It was opened by a rotund gentleman in a three-piece gray silk suit.
    “Jessica Fletcher! I have been waiting on—how you say?—needles and pins for you,” he said, grabbing my fingers and bringing them to his lips.
    The expression on Betsy’s face was priceless. For a woman who didn’t like to shake hands, the prospect of a kiss on the fingers must be terrifying, but she schooled her features quickly and made the introduction. “Mrs. Fletcher, this is our most important client, Antonio Tedeschi, Permezzo’s president and chief marketing officer.”
    “How do you do,” I said.
    “ Ecco , bella , you are exactly as I pictured you,” he said, pulling my hand under his arm and escorting me into the room. He looked back at Betsy and winked.
    A dozen people stood around an artfully arranged buffet table with platters of food, enough to feed a crowd three times our number. Antonio leaned close to my ear. “Such an important lady. Such talent. We shall make a big success together, yes?”
    “I hope so,” I said, trying not to appear rude by drawing away.
    “I tell my Betsy I am so excited to meet you. I read all your books, and then look what she does. She brings you to me.”
    “Ain’t he too much?” A lady with short blond hair and a big smile approached us. “Antonio, Ah’m goin’ to take you home to Dallas so you can teach my honey Homer the right way to treat a woman.”
    “It would be my pleasure to visit your amiable home,” he replied.
    She didn’t wait for an introduction. “Howdy, Mrs. Fletcher. I’m Stella Bedford,” she said, pumping my hand after Antonio had released it. “I could say I’m a writer, too—I have a bunch of cookbooks out—but that would be a lie. All my books are written by a ghostwriter. I can cook up a storm, but Ah can hardly put two words together on paper. I do so admire someone who can.”
    “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I said. “But please call me Jessica.”
    “Jessica it is.” She was dressed in an elegant green and white shirtwaist dress, which showed off her generous curves, and had a pink cashmere cardigan resting on her shoulders. She wore shocking pink lipstick and her blue eyes were accented by jet-black mascara and a long set of false eyelashes.
    Antonio turned to me. “May I bring you some coffee?”
    “Tea, please,” I replied.
    “You can get me a coffee, hon. I take two sugars,” Stella told Antonio. She turned to Grady. “And who’s this handsome fellow?”
    Grady blushed at the compliment.
    “This is my nephew, Grady Fletcher. Grady, this is Stella Bedford.”
    He smiled at her, but after his experience with Betsy Archibald, he wasn’t sure if he should offer his hand. He settled on “Nice to meet you.”
    “Actually, at home they call me Cookie,” she said, taking Grady’s arm. “ ‘Stella’ is such a formal name, doncha think?” She gazed up at him, batting her eyelashes. Still holding his arm, she addressed me. “I tried to get the TV folks to name my show Cookin’ with Cookie , but they wouldn’t. Said it sounds like I’m a baker, not a barbecue chef.” She squeezed Grady’s arm. “Bet you were expecting to see me with a piece of straw in my teeth, weren’t you, hon?”
    Grady’s blush became deeper. “No, ma’am.”
    “Ooh, you were, too. Just admit it. They make me wear these silly overalls on the