by Cara Summers
“You know I have to talk to Eric tonight.”
“That’s tonight?”
Dallas sighed and checked her watch. “Would I have to stay until nine?”
“Would eight work?”
“I’ll be right there.”
“I love you, kiddo.” Trudie paused. “From what you said, Eric sounds like a great guy. Don’t underestimate him.”
“I know.” She started to tell Trudie about her decision but stopped herself. No more discussion was needed. She knew what she had to do. “I’ve gotta go catch a cab if you want me there soon.”
“Go.”
They hung up, and Dallas hurried to the corner to catch a Yellow cab that had just dropped someone off. Once she climbed inside, she called Eric’s number and got his voice mail. She left a message suggesting they meet later, close to nine, and tried not to dwell on how torturous it was going to be, stuck in that window, thinking about how she had to spill everything to Eric.
She reminded herself that she’d done nothing wrong. She’d never lied about herself. And she wasn’t embarrassed, as her mother had hinted. Not really. Her work simply wasn’t anything you discussed over dinner. It was boring, really.
Traffic wasn’t horrendous yet, at least not by Manhattan standards, and she got to the corner of Lexington and Fifty-seventh in good time. There the bottleneck started, so she got out to walk the rest of the way. Every one else was dressed in business attire, and she got several second looks and a few blatant stares that really irked her.
Damn, but she should have at least found a mirror. Made a few repairs. She always went straight home after work and changed out of her overalls, even if she was meeting Tony and some of the other guys for a beer. But here she was, in midtown no less, her hard hat in one hand and her lunch pail in the other. God only knew what her hair and face looked like. Trudie would pay dearly for this.
Dallas spotted her standing outside the store, waiting, with a bag in her hand. She was looking the other way, so Dallas couldn’t get her attention. Especially not with all the pedestrians who seemed to have come out of nowhere, as if the recess bell had just rung. Good in a way, because people paid less attention to Dallas.
She narrowly dodged a man too busy talking on a cell phone to see her but then bumped into someone else. “Excuse me,” she said and looked up into Eric’s stunned eyes. Horrified, she tried to sidestep him. Disappear before his shock wore off. She ended up running into Tom. Literally.
He took her arm to keep her from stumbling, his face a mask of astonished disbelief.
“Dallas?”
She looked back to Eric. “Hi.”
He stared at her for one very long, miserable moment. Then his gaze went to the Aladdin lunch pail, to the yellow hard hat, then returned to her face. “What are you doing?”
“I’m late,” she said, backing away and bumping into a man who cursed when she smashed his white deli sack. “Sorry,” she muttered to him. Then she said to Eric, “I really have to go. I’ll talk to you later.”
Eric watched her hurry through the crowd and meet up with a short, well-dressed woman who grabbed her arm and hustled her off in the other direction. Half of him wanted to follow them and the other half was too stunned to move.
“What the hell was that about?” Tom stood beside him, the two of them staring after her.
“I have no idea.”
“We’d better move before we get trampled.”
Eric seemed rooted to the spot. He couldn’t get the image of her in dusty overalls and steel-toed boots out of his mind. Not just that. Her smudged face. Her hair a total mess, so dusty, it looked brown. He almost hadn’t recognized her.
“Come on, Eric, or I’m going to Pete’s without you.”
“Yeah, okay,” he said, taking a final look, even though she’d already disappeared. He finally turned around. A double shot of scotch sounded damn good about now.
HER HANDS SHAKING, DALLAS reached for the door handle. She’d already seen him through the window, sitting at the bar, staring at the baseball game on the wall-mounted television. The place was dim, not crowded, and for both those reasons she’d asked him to meet her here.
Not that she had to worry anymore about how she looked. She’d been cleaned up, coiffed and made up, thanks to one of the store’s stylists. She looked just like the old Dallas. At least, the one Eric was used to.
If only she had told him before he’d seen her, she wouldn’t be so nervous. Wouldn’t feel guilty, as if she’d done something wrong, which she absolutely hadn’t. She just wished her damn hands would stop trembling.
She opened the door and he looked over at her. He smiled, but it wasn’t the same excited smile he normally gave her. He looked confused, maybe even apprehensive, and she didn’t blame him. Nor did she blame him for the way he sized her up. Head to toe. As if trying to convince himself seeing her earlier had been a bad dream.
Clearing her throat, she took the stool next to him and smiled. “Hey.”
“Hey back.” He signaled the bartender. “Wine?” he asked her a little too politely, his tone a little distant.
Or was it her imagination? Was she seeing and hearing what she expected to see and hear? “A triple martini would be much better.”
He smiled.
She looked at the bartender. “Club soda, please.”
“I’ll have another,” Eric told the man and then turned back toward her but said nothing.
The silence got too maddening, and she pretended interest in the television. “So, who’s winning?”
“I have no idea.”
“Oh. I thought you were watching.”
His gaze stayed on her. “Were you avoiding me today?”
“No.” She gave an emphatic shake of her head. “No, really, I was working and couldn’t pick up.”
“Working?”
“Uh-huh,” she said and pounced on the club soda the bartender set in front of her. She hurriedly took a big gulp. Too big. It made her cough.
“You okay?” He touched her arm, and the familiarity was so reassuring, she wanted to melt into him.
“Fine. Now. I was in the window again tonight. For three hours. It was last-minute, and all I could think about was getting something to drink and going to the bathroom.”
He nodded knowingly. “I knew you were doing the display window again.”
“How?” Had she missed him in the crowd tonight? God knew she’d been looking.
“That ridiculous way you were dressed. Tom and I figured it out.” He chuckled. “I can’t imagine what kind of display you were doing. I wanted to swing by and have a look, but I had to meet a client for dinner. Be sides, I didn’t want to embarrass you, either.”
She looked down at her tightly clasped hands, wondering what happened to that speech she’d spent two hours rehearsing. Not a speech, really, just a few sentences. She figured she couldn’t handle much more.
“Take Horn’s offer,” Eric said, covering both her hands with one of his. “And you won’t have to do any more of those windows or dress like that again. You’re better than that, Dallas.”
She stiffened, and he leaned forward to lightly kiss her lips. She let him, even though she didn’t appreciate what he’d said. After he sat back again, she bit her lip and stared down at her lap. If she looked him in the eyes, she’d get all jumbled up.
“Dallas?”
She looked up into his anxious eyes and swallowed. “Kiss me.”
“What?”
“Kiss me again. Please.”
He smiled and, leaning toward her, cupped the back of her neck. Their lips met, and she put more enthusiasm into this kiss—enough that his ardent response made her a little dizzy. Made her chicken. But she had no choice. No more fantasy life. This was the end of the line.
She wasn’t sure who broke the kiss. They both kind of leaned back at the same time and looked at each other. The only other two sitting at the bar, on the opposite end, let out a howl. Apparently one of the base b
all teams had scored. Dallas glanced up at the screen and saw that the game had ended.
“You’re not going to accept Horn’s offer,” he said in a flat voice.
Her gaze went to him. He didn’t look happy. “I’m sorry if that screws you up.”
“Are you going to tell me why you won’t consider it?”
“I did consider it and I’ve decided it’s not the right path for me to take.”
“Maybe we should discuss this further. I don’t think you realize what kind of opportunity this is. Horn is very influential in the business community. He has deep pockets and he loves to spend money on advertising.”
“Look, Eric, I do understand and I’m flattered that you both want me for this position, but I already have a job, and—”
“I told you that working around your schedule is no problem.”
She smiled sadly and then looked away. “I don’t exactly have the kind of image Horn wants.”
“Are you kidding? You’re perfect.”
Oh, God, this was so hard. “You know how I was dressed earlier?”
He nodded and then laughed, shook his head.
“That wasn’t about a window display. That’s me. The real me.”
“What are you talking about?”
She swallowed. “I had just gotten off work when you saw me.”
“No, you were going to work. You did a window display tonight.”
“Yes, but that was a favor for a friend. I believe I’d told you I haven’t been in modeling for a while now.” She hated watching the confusion draw his face into a frown. Hated knowing she was about to end the fantasy forever.
Her stomach was in one big knot, and she swore she was going to be sick if she didn’t hurry and get this over with. But all the carefully chosen words she’d practiced wouldn’t come to mind. And every bit of it was her fault. She should have told him the moment he’d made the offer. Before he’d seen her dressed in dirty overalls, carrying that stupid Aladdin lunch pail. God, if she could only start over…
Eric could see something was wrong. Seriously wrong. She could have blindfolded him to keep from seeing the anguish on her face and he would know just by the tension cramping the muscles in his shoulders and the back of his neck.
He silently cleared his throat and reached for her hand. It was cold and she immediately drew back. “Dallas, you’re obviously upset. Whatever’s wrong, I’m sure we can fix it.”
She shook her head. “It’s not a matter of fixing it. I’m not a model. I don’t have a glamorous job. I’m a construction worker. Garden variety. That’s it.”
“What?” He started to laugh, until he saw that she was serious. “But you have a graduate degree.”
“Yes,” she said flatly.
He stared, waiting, expecting this to be part of the joke. “You’re serious,” he said finally.
Her lips twisted in a wry smile. “I wouldn’t make up something like this.”
“Why?”
“Why have I chosen to work in construction?”
He nodded, not knowing what to say yet juggling a dozen questions in his mind. Hard to reconcile the gorgeous woman sitting in front of him with the one he saw on the street earlier.
“It started out as an accident. After I quit modeling, I signed up with a temporary agency and they sent me on a laborer’s job. I have to admit I was somewhat appalled at first, but it was kind of kicky, you know? Doing something so incredibly different. And the pay sure beat typing or answering phones or filling a clerical position.”
Another piece of the puzzle fell into place. “And your parents hated it.”
Sighing, she briefly looked down at her hands. “Childish, I know.”
He took a sip of his scotch, letting silence stretch, trying to figure out where this left them. Personally nothing had to change. After all, what did they have besides sex?
At that undeniable truth, anger gripped him. Anger at her for not being honest with him. Anger with him self for caring.
God, what a mess. He had to hold it together, though. He still had Horn’s account to worry about.
“Okay,” he said finally, his mind starting to clear. “Frankly I don’t see a problem. Horn’s offer will mean a lot more money, and you’ve already had your juvenile fling.”
Flinching, she looked at him with such a wounded expression, he immediately regretted his words.
“Look, I didn’t mean to sound snide.” He pushed a hand through his hair, glanced around for the bartender, but then quickly decided another drink might not be wise. “Let’s start over.” He smiled.
Dallas didn’t. She sighed and shook her head. “Let’s save us both the grief. There’s nothing you can say to make me change my mind. I can’t accept Horn’s offer.”
“Because of me?”
She laughed softly. “It has nothing to do with you.”
“Why then?”
“It’s complicated.”
“I have time.”
She picked up her club soda and took a thoughtful sip. “I have a question.” Avoiding his intense gaze, she paused to put down the glass. And then she looked him directly in the eyes. “Does this change anything between us?”
He cleared his throat, tried to maintain eye contact but ended up briefly looking away. “What do you mean?”
A sad smile slowly curved the corners of her mouth. “That’s what I thought.”
“Hey—”
She pulled some money out of her purse, laid it on the bar and slid off the stool.
“Dallas, wait, you didn’t let me finish.”
“Good luck with Horn’s account, Eric. I mean it.” She leaned over to kiss him briefly on the cheek and then she left.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“YOU’RE OUT OF YOUR MIND.” WENDY set down an unopened box of Kleenex on the floor near the pink fuzzy house slippers Dallas was wearing. “How could you turn down a job like that?”
Dallas sniffed, huddled deeper into the beanbag chair, pointed the remote at the television and turned up the volume. As if she didn’t already know every word to Pretty Woman. Better than listening to her annoying roommate tell her what a schmuck she was.
Wendy handed her a mug of steaming chamomile tea and grabbed the remote. “Not that I don’t admire your loyalty, but you’ll probably end up getting fired over this insane crusade and then where will you be?”
“Thank you for your support.”
“Hey, kiddo…”
At the sympathy in Wendy’s voice, Dallas looked grudgingly at her. Contrary to what Wendy thought, Dallas wasn’t crying. In fact, she hadn’t shed a single tear. She had got what she wanted out of the fantasy. One week of bliss. The best sex she’d ever had. Now it was over. She was a big girl. She could accept that and move on.
Wendy sighed and curled up on the love seat with her own cup of tea. “I’m on your side, remember? What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t tell you that I think you’re making a colossal mistake?”
“Okay, you’ve told me. Thank you. Now, may I please watch this movie in peace?”
“Have you discussed this with Trudie?”
Dallas groaned. “Am I not speaking clearly enough?”
“I bet she thinks you’re crazy, too. Those women will be fine. Loyalty has to have a limit. Think about your self for a change.”
Dallas cursed—something she rarely did—tightened the belt to her white terry robe and struggled to her feet. She couldn’t listen to Wendy another minute. Sitting alone in her bedroom without a television was better than having the big, fat mess that was her life rubbed in her face.
At the last moment she remembered the small box of Godiva truffles she’d splurged on after knocking off work and scooped it up before plodding down the short hall to her room. Wendy made a comment about Dallas stuffing her face with chocolate not being the solution right before she closed the bedroom door with a deliberate click. Forget about it. She didn’t understand. No body did.
Even with the air conditio
ner on, her room was warm and sticky, and she threw off her robe. After carelessly shoving her quilt to the foot of the bed, she stretched out in her bra and panties and stared at the ceiling. Almost as if it magnetically drew her, her gaze went to her cell phone. The message light blinked.
Knowing it was Eric, she forced her gaze away. He’d called three times since last night. She hadn’t picked up once. She didn’t have anything to say. Anything he wanted to hear, anyway. It was over. She’d seen the look on his face when she’d asked if anything had changed between them. He hadn’t needed to say a word after that.
She didn’t blame him. In his business, they called what she’d done “false advertising.” She’d worn the pretty clothes, the makeup, the whole thing. She’d be come exactly the type of woman he wanted. But that wasn’t her. Maybe once. Not now. Not for a long time.
Of course, she’d never expected things to go this far. The fantasy was supposed to have been for one night. And then it had stretched into two, and before she knew it, she’d spent over a week with him. He’d even met her parents.
Oh, God. She covered her face and groaned.
What the hell had she been thinking?
It all seemed so complicated. Maybe she needed to see a shrink. Seriously. Because she could deny it all she wanted, but there was still that part of her that wanted to wear the makeup and the dresses and snatch that in credible contract that would put her right back in the game. That didn’t put her in the same category as Wendy. Dallas hadn’t chased the elusive dream. It had fallen in her lap.
And then there was Eric. She liked him. Really liked him, damn it. Not because of the sex, which was beyond totally awesome. He made her laugh and he’d been a good sport about meeting her family. A lot of guys would have stopped at the sex part. Told her she was crazy for even suggesting dinner with the folks.
Her cell phone rang, startling her, and she bolted up and almost automatically grabbed it. Instead she peered at the caller ID. It was Trudie. Absurdly disappointed, she lay back down. It wasn’t as if she wanted to talk to Eric or even wanted him to call again. In fact, she didn’t want to talk to anyone. Not even Trudie.
