The Other Half Read Online Free PDF Page B

she walked into the restaurant she could see him through the back window. He was sitting outside, reading at a small round table in the patio garden, having grabbed a prime spot in the last of the evening sun.
    “Ah.” He smiled and stood as she joined him.
    From the documents before him, she gleaned he’d been working. He bent to put them in his briefcase, and as he sat back up he ran his hands through his hair to sweep it away from his face. Seeing him out of the office, in the sunshine, in this enchanting restaurant, made Chloë view him differently. God, he was attractive! She was punched in the stomach by a whoosh of desire. Still, she reminded herself, he’s married.
    “How are you?” he asked.
    “Oh, I’m well.” As if she was going to admit she was all of a jitter! “And you?”
    “I’m fine. Would you like a glass?” He pulled a bottle of white wine, dripping, from an ice bucket. It appeared invitingly cool, the perfect antidote to her nerves.
    “That looks lovely.” Chloë watched as he poured the pale golden liquid into her glass with a satisfying glug . She took a sip.
    “Rather good, isn’t it?”
    “Yes,” Chloë agreed, thinking that anything other than Liebfraumilch would have done at this precise moment.
    “So,” said James. “Busy day?”
    “The usual.” She was relieved to focus on work. “We’ve just gone to press so it’s not too bad. Today has been fun—brainstorming ideas with my assistant. How was yours?”
    “OK, actually. I had a meeting I was dreading at our printing house. I’d expected it to be a nasty confrontation, but in fact it went well. And,” he paused, “I spoke to Vanessa Davenport, the special projects manager.’
    “Yes?” said Chloë. She’d seen this thin-faced, imposing woman gliding around UK Magazines. Her reputation for making or breaking a project—and a career—was legendary.
    “We had lunch yesterday, so I brought up your idea, and she’d like to meet you with a view to taking it further.”
    Chloë could barely restrain herself from clapping her hands.
    “One thing she did insist on, though, was that you make up some kind of dummy.”
    Chloë reached for her bag. It was all so exciting! “This may sound presumptuous … but here’s one I prepared earlier.” She pulled out a mocked-up magazine and laid it on the table. “The reason I didn’t do this before is most dummies tend to be made up of cuttings from other magazines and what I have in mind is so different I wanted you to consider the concept in theory before seeing something definite.”
    As James flipped through the dummy, Chloë sipped her wine. It rapidly imparted a warm glow.
    Eventually he looked up, beaming. “This is great—not the usual approach at all! I think Vanessa would love it. You two should hook up as soon as possible.”
    Chloë’s confidence grew. “You’ll see”—she leaned over the table enthusiastically—“that because I believe no magazines here get it completely right that I’ve hardly used any examples from British women’s monthlies. Instead I’ve taken cuttings from a range of publications—such as this US magazine, and run-outs from the Internet, club flyers, even book jackets and CD covers. What you’ve got here is more of an indication of layout—the kind of photography and typography I have in mind. I’ve provided a collection of article ideas separately.” She handed him a second document.
    James paused at a spread in the dummy. “I like this.”
    “It’s from a U.S. website. Wicked cartoons, don’t you think?”
    “Yeah. Why is it British women’s magazines are so humorless?”
    “God knows!” said Chloë, relaxing. “If I want a laugh, I’d rather read some of the men’s. Maybe people think women are right miseries.”
    “Well, not all people. You don’t seem a misery to me. Though I do agree the magazine industry could be accused of such.”
    “Oh, I can be miserable, believe me,” confessed Chloë, “though I