The woman was well-endowed, all right. And perky. Incredibly perky.
Taylor bent over to step into the dress, and Meg was exposed to yet another angle of the woman’s incredible body.
“I, um, think I hear another customer,” Meg said, gesturing toward the curtain.
Taylor pulled the form-fitting dress over her breasts and snapped the straps into place. She frowned toward Meg. “Well, go if you must. But come back quickly.” She reached into the neckline of the dress, grabbed her left breast and hefted it higher. The binding fabric of the dress held it in place. When she reached in to adjust her right breast, Meg fled.
JARETT TRIED NOT TO STARE at the young woman who emerged from the dressing room, but he had to satisfy his curiosity—was his imagination playing tricks on him, or did this bespectacled shopgirl bear a striking resemblance to Taylor?
It wasn’t just the large eyes or the high cheekbones or the chiseled nose that had struck him when he first walked in and saw her without her glasses. But throw in the full-blown mouth, the height, and the slender build, and she could be Taylor’s cousin. And if the loose jeans and baggy sweater concealed what he suspected they concealed, she could be her sister.
At the moment, though, she was looking a little shell-shocked from her brief encounter with Taylor, and he could guess what had transpired in the dressing room. Taylor simply didn’t understand the concept of modesty, while this poor girl looked as if she might have been valedictorian of her private Catholic school. Indeed, she was tugging at the neckline of her T-shirt, as if she could stretch it into becoming a turtleneck.
“I, um, thought I heard another customer,” she said, scanning the vacant shop. She stabbed at her glasses in what he had observed, in the short time he’d been here, to be a nervous habit.
“It’s okay,” he said. “Taylor can be a little…overwhelming.”
She tugged on her neckline again. “I’m still trying to adjust to the fact that she’s even here. I mean, I thought celebrities had people to shop for them. And this isn’t exactly Rodeo Drive.”
“Taylor does what she pleases. Your display windows caught her eye. She won’t mind if you say she was here if it will help your business, but I have to ask that you not say anything until she’s gone. The press has been relentless lately.”
She nodded, wide-eyed, as if the idea of revealing Taylor’s whereabouts hadn’t even occurred to her. Her naïveté was refreshing.
“I’m Jarett Miller,” he said, for no other reason than he wanted to banish that deer-in-the-headlights look from her face.
“M-Meg Valentine,” she said. “I assume you’re Miss Gee’s bodyguard.”
He smiled at her formality. “And longtime friend.”
A genuine smile curved her mouth. “I’m sure Miss Gee is glad to have someone close to her who she can trust. Would you like a cup of coffee, Mr. Miller?”
He’d been up most of the night with Taylor on one of her crying jags. “That would be nice, thanks.”
The intriguing sway of her retreat convinced him that, curve to curve, she could hold her own against Taylor. Funny how one woman with spectacular looks wound up on television, while another woman with spectacular looks wound up tucked away in a little retail shop.
Meg returned with one cup of black coffee.
“None for you?” he asked with a nod of thanks.
Her smile lit her beautiful green eyes, veiled behind the black-rim glasses. “Not on an empty stomach.”
He checked his watch. “We’re keeping you from your lunch.”
“No, that’s fine,” she said with a musical laugh. “I’m grateful for the business. And flattered. My friends and I are big fans—we never miss Many Moons.”
He couldn’t explain the effect her quiet voice had on him. Everything about her was simple and elegant—her hairstyle, her clothing, the way she moved her hands, the carriage of her shoulders. Her precise enunciation told him she was scholarly. In fact, nothing about her demeanor lent itself to the kind of woman who would own a costume shop, but neither did she seem like the kind of woman who would settle for being a clerk in a costume shop.
Her hands were bare except for a ring on her right hand, a single pearl mounted in a simple gold setting. The type of ring a girl might receive as a graduation present from her parents. She wore an inexpensive, practical watch. It was hard to guess her age—maybe twenty-four or twenty-five? The fussy braid in her light brown hair added to her ethereal appearance. At first glance, Meg Valentine was almost…mousy, and the fact that he knew better made him feel as if he were in on a wicked secret. Explicably, he wanted to know everything about her, and for once, he wished his time was his own so he could ask her to dinner.
From inside the dressing room came an impatient sigh. “Is that girl out there finished with whatever she left to do? I could use some help.”
At times he wanted to wring Taylor’s neck for her rudeness, but she was like a tall, difficult child with no respect for anyone else’s feelings. And a reprimand from him would send her into a downward spiral that he’d spent hours trying to cajole her out of. So, much like a weary father, he made excuses for her.
“She’s tense about an appearance tonight for a children’s benefit,” he said in an apologetic voice. It wasn’t far from the truth—as promised, Taylor hadn’t taken any pills over the last twenty-four hours so she could be in top form tonight. But the lack of a mood-booster had left her irritable—more so than usual.
Meg nodded, her face soft with understanding. “I can’t imagine how stressful it must be to be in her shoes for even one day.”
“Am I talking to myself in here?” Taylor shouted.
Jarett gritted his teeth while Meg dashed back inside the dressing room. From the murmur of their voices, Meg’s soft, pleasing one and Taylor’s high-pitched grating one, it appeared that Taylor was delighting in bossing Meg around. In between customers, the poor girl left and returned to the dressing room a half-dozen times, her arms full of glittering clothing. Every time the curtain opened, a cloud of cigarette smoke billowed out.
An hour later, Meg left the dressing room for what he hoped was the last time. Taylor stuck her head out and gave him a sly grin. “Want to see?”
He opened his mouth to decline, but she grabbed his arm and yanked him inside. To prevent a scene, he set his jaw and humored her as she posed in a long red dress with a neckline that plunged to her navel, and a front slit that hit mid-thigh. “What do you think?”
“It’s…nice,” he agreed, coughing mildly into his hand. The cigarette smoke was as thick as fog.
She narrowed her eyes and with a wrenching twist, ripped the slit higher, high enough to reveal that she wasn’t wearing panties. “What about now?”
He summoned all his patience. “I hope you have something more demure in mind to wear to the children’s benefit tonight.”
She frowned. “My publicist committed me to wearing a gown by a new designer, and it’s absolutely horrid—it has sleeves, for heaven’s sake.”
His mouth twitched. “Imagine that. Are you ready to check out?”
She nodded to a pile of clothing on the cushions. “I’ll take those. Would you take care of it for me, darling? And remember to buy every size in the shop.”
To minimize the chance of someone else showing up in the same outfit. Taylor was nothing if not predictable.
“Sure,” he said, picking up the clothes.
“Wait,” she said, then lifted the red dress over her head. “I’ll take this one, too.” She tossed the garment on top of the pile, then stood in all her naked glory, a challenging light in her deep blue eyes. “Looks comfy enough in here to lie down, doesn’t it, Jarett?”
Every now and then, he was reminded of Taylor’s penchant for dangerous sex. Jarett’s stomach turned. “Behave, Taylor. And get dressed.”
He exited the dressing room and approached the counter where a young girl and her mother were buying pink satin gloves. Meg was smiling and talking to
the girl, chatting about school and little-girl things. She seemed like a natural with children, and he wondered if she had any of her own.
“Goodbye,” she said as her customers walked away. “Have fun at the dance.”
He piled the clothes on the counter.
“Is Miss Gee finished shopping?”
He nodded, enchanted by her smile, and by the tiny stud earrings in the lobes of her ears. With as much diplomacy as possible, he explained about Taylor wanting to purchase every size available of the garments she’d picked. Meg blinked.
“That’s going to be expensive.”
“I’ll be paying in cash.”
She swallowed. “Okay. Give me a few minutes to wrap everything.” She worked quickly, and when the total was tallied, she looked up with a little wrinkle between her eyebrows. “That will be f-fourteen th-thousand, one hundred and twenty-five dollars. And thirty-nine cents. Sir.”
He withdrew a thick wallet and counted out the money in large bills. “Thank you for your hospitality to Taylor. And to me.”
She nodded, placing the bills in the cash register tray with shaking hands. “You’re very welcome.”
“Good luck, Meg Valentine.”
She looked up, and pushed her glasses higher.
Her green eyes widened slightly and something…electrical passed in the air between them.
Her lips parted, and a flush made her cheeks grow pink. She blinked rapidly and her chin jerked to the right, as if she were startled, or taken back.
“Jarett,” Taylor said behind them, sounding irritated.
He turned. She had emerged from the dressing room, dressed, thank God, in her pink suit.
“Jarett, I need to be zipped up.” She sighed and stomped up to him like a sulky teenager.
He complied, aware of Meg’s eyes on them as he fumbled with the small zipper key. From the way she averted her gaze, she thought he and Taylor were lovers. And even though it wasn’t the first time someone had thought as much, the fact that chaste little Meg Valentine with the braided hair and the big green eyes thought so suddenly mattered to him.
“Let’s go,” Taylor barked. “I’m having a facial in thirty minutes.” She jammed on big, black sunglasses.
“Um, Miss Gee?” Meg asked.
Taylor lowered her sunglasses. “Yes?”
Meg blushed furiously. “I hate to bother you, but my girlfriend Kathie is a big fan of yours.”
“And?” Taylor snapped.
Jarett wanted to shake her because Meg looked as if she might swallow her tongue. “Would you like an autograph to take to your friend?” Jarett asked.
“Y-yes,” Meg said. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, Miss Gee.”
“It wouldn’t be,” Jarett said, giving Taylor a pointed look.
After a few seconds’ hesitation, Taylor manufactured a smile. “Of course not.” She whipped a folder out of her large pink purse and withdrew a publicity photo. “What’s your friend’s name?”
Meg smiled. “Kathie, with an I-E.”
Taylor signed the head shot with a flourish and slid it across the counter. “I take it you’re not a fan of mine?”
Taylor’s trademark tact.
“Oh, no—I mean, yes, I am,” Meg stammered. “I never miss your show.”
Taylor finally smiled and pulled out another photo. “What’s your name?”
“Meg. Meg Valentine.”
“How sweet,” Taylor said, not sounding very sweet. “Here you go, Meggie.”
Meg bit into her lower lip and smiled. “Thank you very much, Miss Gee.”
Without a word, Taylor turned and marched toward the door, managing to take up three times as much room as her slender form required. She had certainly mastered the art of the grand exit.
Jarett frowned, picked up the bags of clothing, and followed her, as he’d done a thousand times. But at the door, he felt compelled to turn back—something about the mousy little Meg called to him. Maybe she reminded him of the sweetness of the small town in West Virginia where he’d grown up. Maybe it had just been too long since he’d spent time with a genuine person. Whatever the appeal, he felt torn between his duty to shadow Taylor and a sudden desire to loiter with the shopgirl. A crazy impulse, he knew, but there it was.
“Yes, Mr. Miller?” she asked, her hand at her throat, tugging on her collar.
His mind raced—she had no idea the impression she’d made, which rendered it all the more profound. He felt like a colossal fool standing in the doorway, holding shopping bags and letting the cool breeze dilute the cozy warmth of the shop. “Perhaps our paths will cross again.”
He wanted the words back as soon as they left his mouth. What an inane thing to say—of course their paths would never cross again.
But she was too nice to let on that he’d spoken utter nonsense. Instead, she pushed up her glasses and smiled. “Perhaps.”
5
MEG TURNED the Closed sign on the door and exhaled slowly. Her limbs ached from the unaccustomed movement of taking down and rehanging heavy costumes. And another strange feeling had overtaken her since Jarett Miller had walked in and placed her glasses in her hands. It was an alien sensation of self-awareness, as if suddenly everything she said and did mattered. Ridiculous, since Jarett Miller probably wouldn’t have noticed her if she’d sprouted wings and taken flight. Especially not while standing within a mile of Taylor Gee.
Taylor Gee, as in Gee Whiz. That woman gave a person an idea of what Eve, the original woman, might have looked like. Meg still couldn’t believe she’d actually seen the star of Many Moons up close and personal—very personal. And Taylor Gee’s life seemed just as glamorous as she’d imagined—arranging facials on the fly, spending money like water, and being protected by a hunky bodyguard.
Leaning back against the locked door, Meg absorbed the coolness of the metal and glass. If she had a league, Jarett Miller would be way out of it. But she could dream, couldn’t she? Oh, she knew she was buying into the mystique of the brawny bodyguard dressed in black, but his sex appeal was wrapped up in more than his incredible looks—there was something about the warmth in his dark eyes, the friendliness in his voice, the way he engaged her in unnecessary conversation.
If she closed her eyes, she could almost believe their paths would cross again.
Then a delicious thought materialized. With heart pounding, she pulled the ticket Quincy had given her from the pocket of her jeans. The hotel reception was for a children’s benefit called A Book in Every Nook—the same one Taylor Gee would be attending? The charity was one of Meg’s favorite literacy causes. And maybe she’d have a chance to talk to Jarett Miller again after all.
As her excitement grew, she glanced down at her casual clothes. She hadn’t packed anything nice enough to wear to a swanky reception, but maybe there was something in the store—
Meg stopped halfway to the racks, a rueful laugh bubbling in her throat—her fantasies had run amuck. She had come to Chicago to contemplate Trey’s proposal, and here she was spinning daydreams about the bodyguard of one of the most desirable women in the world. She hadn’t missed the intimate exchange when Jarett had zipped Taylor’s sweater. Hadn’t he said they were longtime friends? Longtime lovers, more likely.
It was undoubtedly part of the man’s job to pave the way for Taylor Gee wherever she traveled, even if it meant shmoozing with retail clerks so they wouldn’t gossip to the media. Well, she had no intention of calling local reporters, but she suspected she would have the undivided attention of the girls in the teachers’ lounge when she re turned to school. She knew Kathie would flip over the autographed picture.
And her sister Rebecca would flip over the huge sale. Speaking of which, she needed to get the deposit ready to drop at the bank—just knowing she had so much cash on hand had left her nervous the rest of the afternoon.
She sighed and tore the reception ticket in two, then dropped it in the wastebasket behind the counter, chastising herself for allowing her imagination
to run away with her. She would have a quiet dinner by herself, and maybe catch a movie.
Plus she’d promised Trey that she’d call him tonight. And in between, she needed to do some serious thinking about the direction she wanted her life to take.
Which, she reminded herself sternly, had nothing remotely to do with Jarett Miller.
After carefully counting the day’s receipts, she placed the money in a paper deposit envelope.
Rebecca’s notes had said the night deposit bags were in a box in the supply room. Meg found the supply room, and flipped on a light. The closet was filled with empty boxes, garment bags, printer paper, and props of all kinds. She located the nylon night deposit bags and removed one from the box, noting it was already tagged with the name of Rebecca’s store and her account number. All Meg had to do was put the deposit and a deposit slip inside the bag, then place it in a drop box at the bank. Simple. She turned to leave the closet, then shrieked at the sight of a man standing be hind the door.
Well, okay, he was a rubber man, but nearly lifesize and a bit frightening at first glance. The blow-up doll was dressed in blue-and-white-striped pajamas, and wore a yellow note pinned to his lapel. She squinted. Correction—make that a note to her. Perplexed, Meg removed the straight pin that held the message in place.
Meg
Meet Harry. Remember Angie’s bachelorette party in college? We all agreed to pass Harry from one single friend to the next as we met and married the man of our dreams. Lana Martina (Healey) sent Harry to me a few weeks ago, just after my breakup with Dickie. She assured me that Harry is a good-luck love charm, although I had my doubts. But believe it or not, Harry was instrumental in bringing me and Michael together. I’m leaving you this note because I know you’ll find it Saturday when you close the store. Harry is yours now, because—are you sitting down?—Michael and I are in Vegas. We’ve eloped.
Two Sexy! Page 4
