by Francis Ray
Janice’s worry and concern deepened. Trent was always calm no matter the circumstances. “It can’t be that bad.”
Stopping, Trent looked at her with true desperation in his dark brown eyes. “I need your to help get me a date for tonight.”
She relaxed. “Trent, you should be ashamed of yourself for scaring me. Any young woman you know would be happy to go out with you.”
“Yeah, but they’d expect me to call again. I need a date with no strings.” Placing both hands on the desk, he stared across the surface at her. “That’s why I need you to help me.”
Her shoulders pressed against the high back of the woven, upholstered chair. “Me?”
“I know you’ve sometimes matched up a few neighbors and friends. I thought you might help me out.”
Janice lowered her gaze and began straightening the papers on her desk. “I don’t know where you could have heard such a thing.”
“Come on, Janice. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need your help,” Trent admitted. “Mr. Scoggins stopped by the house last fall while he was out for a walk and decided to stay and watch a football game with me. He had one too many beers cheering the Cowboys on to a victory against the Redskins, and told me everything.”
That got her attention. She lifted her head. “And just what is everything?”
Trent straightened. “That you have an unofficial dating service for people over fifty called No Strings. You’ve met a lot of your clients through your business. It’s very exclusive and private.”
“Apparently not private enough.”
“Please don’t be upset with Mr. Scoggins,” Trent said. “As I said, he had one too many beers. I gathered he’s very pleased with a Mrs. Taylor who lives in East Dallas. I just hope you can do the same for me. On a one-time basis, of course.”
Janice settled back in her chair. “Trent, you said it yourself. I deal with people over fifty.”
Trent shoved his hand into his front pocket. “As desperate as I am, I’ll take anyone at the moment.” He sent her a speculative look. “You have any plans for tonight?”
Her perfectly arched brows lifted regally. “A woman, no matter her age or the length of acquaintance, does not like to hear a man state he’s desperate and then ask if she’s available in practically the same breath.”
Trent winced. Maybe he should have gone for the straightforward approach, after all. “Sorry. You know I didn’t mean it like that. I forgot about the dinner party tonight until the host called me yesterday afternoon. The last time I showed up without a date at a dinner party, the hostess glared at me and the empty chair beside me all evening.”
“Surely you can explain to him that your date had to cancel,” Janice offered.
“I could, except it wouldn’t be the truth. In any case some of the people coming tonight were at a dinner party last month, and I didn’t have a date then either. I always intend to invite someone, then I get busy and forget.”
“Freud said there are no accidents, Trent.”
Broad shoulders shrugged. “Maybe. I told you I don’t have time to keep a woman happy. I’m too busy with my business. Anyway, Mr. Lloyd, tonight’s host, made it a point when I returned his call today to mention that his wife hoped the same thing didn’t happen tonight.”
“Then cancel entirely,” Janice suggested.
“I tried. No go.” Trent shook his dark head, glad he didn’t have to fabricate this part. “Mr. Lloyd said his wife had gone to a lot of trouble and wanted everything to run smoothly. Two empty seats would be upsetting.”
Entwining her fingers, Janice braced her arms on her desk. “How important is this man to your business?”
“Very,” Trent answered. “Fuel is the major outlay in my business. Frank Lloyd is my only supplier, and sells me what I need at a price where I can still make a profit. If I lost the account and had to go to another supplier, I wouldn’t get as good a deal.”
She peered at him closely. “But is he the vindictive type?”
“I don’t think so, but I don’t think his call yesterday was a coincidence, either,” he said slowly.
“A warning?” Janice guessed.
“That’s my guess.” Trent moved a delicate Sevres porcelain figurine aside and propped a hip on the corner of the desk. “My guess is he wants to make sure things go well.”
Janice eyed the entwined porcelain lovers to make sure they hadn’t survived two-and-a-half centuries only to meet disaster a continent away from the factory in England, then switched her attention back to Trent. “I don’t blame him. I have to say I admire him for wanting to make his wife happy. Do you know how much behind the scene planning and effort it takes to make a dinner party seem effortless?”
“No, I don’t, but if she’s going to get this worked up about it she shouldn’t have one,” he said with obvious impatience.
“Being a successful hostess can be just as important to a woman as being a successful businessman is to you. She is often a reflection of her husband, and it is important that she shine brilliantly,” Janice said from experience.
“If you say so.” Trent stood. “Can you help me?”
“Sorry, I don’t know anyone.”
“You know someone.”
Her eyes widened. “You can’t possibly mean Dominique?”
“She’s under fifty.”
“She has also made it clear that she doesn’t want any entanglements.”
“Neither do I. That’s what makes this so perfect. I don’t have time to court a woman, and I don’t want one to get the wrong impression when I take her out. This way, with Dominique, it’s perfect,” he said, knowing he was skimming the thin line of truthfulness.
Janice shook her head. “I don’t know, Trent. Dominique doesn’t do blind dates.”
“This isn’t a blind date. She knows me.”
Both brows arched. “May I remind you that you two didn’t exactly hit it off?”
“I know, but lately we’ve gotten along better. I’d ask her myself, but I thought she might take it better coming from you.”
“So, Dominique was your choice from the first?”
“Yes,” he answered.
“Mind if I ask why you had to back your way into this?” Janice asked, watching him closely.
“I wanted you to see how desperate I am before you said no automatically. Dominique would get something out of it, too,” he rushed on to say. “The dinner party would be a great chance for her to meet some of the movers and shakers in the city. I don’t think her business is going too well.”
Janice bit her lower lip. “It has been slow, despite the referrals I’ve made. I don’t understand. Her photographs are beautiful.”
“So is she, and that could be a problem. Some women aren’t going to want the competition. She needs to find clients who are secure in themselves and their relationships, who don’t have to worry about paying their bill,” he said.
“I suppose you’re right.”
“I know I am. All the couples tonight are successful and have been married for years. We’ll be the youngest people there, and the only singles.” His tone increased in excitement. “This could be mutually beneficial to both of us. All I ask is that you ask her, give her the facts, and let her decide for herself.”
“I guess I could do that.”
“Thanks, Janice. I knew I could count on you once you had all the facts.” With a smile, he was out the door. It was only when he reached his truck that his elation began to wane.
He didn’t know much about Dominique, but one thing he knew instinctively was that she wouldn’t liked being pushed into anything. She made her own decisions. Trent had to admit that he wasn’t sure how he’d react if the tables were turned.
Turning, he went back inside the shop. What seemed like a good plan this morning suddenly had flaws. Lack of sleep must have dulled his mind. Just as he opened the shop’s door, Janice came out of her office and greeted two elderly ladies.
She glanced toward him and he s
hook his head and retraced his steps to his truck. He’d just have to take care of things himself, but how? One thing he knew—he needed a date for tonight, and Dominique was it.
* * *
Dominique was at a low point. She had yet to come up with a marketing plan, and the order for the sitting she had done that morning wouldn’t pay a day’s rent.
She had to find a way to break into the overcrowded Dallas photography market. But how? Leaning back in her chair, she stared at the computer’s blank screen as if it could tell her the answer.
The phone and the front door buzzer sounded at the same time. She glanced up to see Trent at the door. He was in a black tux. Even from thirty feet away she cold see that the perfect cut of the suit accented his muscular build.
Automatically she buzzed him in. Seeing his silhouette in the doorway for a moment gave her pause. The formal attire somehow made him appear more intimidating, more dangerous, more sensual. Perhaps letting him in wasn’t the wisest thing to do. Trent made her body react in a totally unacceptable way.
“Hi. You want to get that?”
Flushing, she reached for the ringing phone. “Photographs by Dominique. Hi, Janice.”
“May I speak with her?” Trent requested, holding out his hand.
“Janice, Trent wishes to speak with you.” Her gaze flickered to Trent perched on the the corner of her desk. “Yes, he’s right here.” She held out the phone. “She wants to speak with you, too.”
Accepting the phone, Trent said, “Hi, Janice. I decided to take care of things myself. Thanks. Good-bye.” Replacing the receiver, he glanced around. “Things have really shaped up.”
“I’m sure you didn’t come here to talk about the studio. You were here yesterday.”
He turned back to her, his gaze intent and more disturbing than any man’s had a right to be. “Why not?”
He had her there. “You’re too busy to take the time.”
“A man is never too busy to take the time for the things that interest him.”
Dominique felt her insides shiver. She didn’t need this complication in her life. Her only concern had to be her business. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get back to work.”
“Doing what, might I ask?”
For some reason she didn’t want him to know she was floundering. Worse, she had no idea of how to fix things. “Working on a marketing plan.”
“I’m pretty good at that. Maybe I can help,” he said.
“No, that—”
He was off the desk and standing behind her before she could stop him. Her hands clenched as she waited for his derisive remark once he saw the blank screen.
“Just starting, huh?” His hand rested on the back of her chair, the back of his fingers brushing her arm.
“Yes.” Unobtrusively, she leaned forward. Trent followed the movements, bringing with him the disturbing scent of his cologne and his own unique scent. Both had her wanting to lick her lips again.
“You have to show the public something different. Something unique.”
Dominique propped one arm on the desk beside the keyboard. “But what?”
“Whatever sets your work apart from all the other photographers,” he answered simply. “In my business it was consistent, dependable, honest service. My customers had to learn to trust me, and know that I was going to deliver their merchandise intact and on time. You have to show them that each picture is as important and precious to you as it is to them. You’ve got to sell your uniqueness.”
Without thought she tilted her head and turned around. His lips were in her direct line of vision and mere inches away. She drew in a shaky breath and inhaled something minty. Jerking her gaze back around, she asked, “How do you know I’m unique?”
“I saw the pictures you took of Janice,” he answered. “They weren’t stiff, formal poses. They were fun shots. They captured Janice’s love of people and life.”
She felt enormously pleased. That was exactly what she had tried to do. Slowly she faced him, this time making sure her gaze didn’t drop below his eyes. “Thank you.”
He straightened. “You’re the one who took the shots.”
“And very few since,” she finally admitted ruefully.
“That’s because your work hasn’t circulated enough.” Facing her, he folded his arms, leaned back against her desk, and stared down at her. “You need people to know what you can do.”
“I’m going to do an ad in the newspapers. I’ve already tried radio.”
“I have a better idea.”
She frowned. “What?”
“Take your product to the people. People see your product, but they don’t see you.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “I’m selling photography.”
“Don’t get testy on me. People respond to things beautiful and alluring. You’re both.”
She didn’t know how to take the compliment. She did know that for the first time in years she was thankful for the way she looked. “I want my work to speak for itself.”
“It will, but you have to get them to look first. I have the perfect solution,” he told her, coming around to the front of the desk and staring down at her.
Warily, he eyed the tux. “Does the way you’re dressed have anything to do with it?”
“Always knew you were smart.”
“And busy. So if you’ll just tell me what this is all about, I can get back to work.”
“And impatient,” he rushed on when she frowned. “I have an important dinner party to attend tonight and I need a da—”
“I don’t have time to date,” she said, cutting him off.
“Neither do I. That’s why I’m asking you.”
Surprise was clearly written on her face.
His smile made her want to hit him. “The dinner party tonight is strictly business. I had asked Janice to speak to you for me, then I decided to ask myself.”
She folded her arms. “Why?”
“I didn’t want you to feel as if you were under an obligation to go, or think I was pushing you,” he answered truthfully. “We’re still testing the waters of our friendship, and I didn’t want them muddied.”
That hadn’t been what she wanted to know. “Why didn’t you get your own date?”
He grinned like a little boy who knows he can charm any female who has a heartbeat. “Promise not to get angry.”
Dominique definitely had a heartbeat, and it was galloping at the moment. “I promise to try.”
“Fair enough. I work long hours and seldom have time for anything that isn’t connected to business. The dinner party tonight is a case in point. Most women want a lot of attention, or are demanding. You take them out once, and if you don’t call again their feelings are hurt,” he explained.
“You aren’t interested in me, so there would be no chance for either of us to get the wrong idea or of having our feelings hurt. Plus, I might be able to help your business.”
He flashed his heart-pounding smile. “Believe it or not, I really am a nice guy. Janice said you needed a second chance without explaining why.” He grew serious. “I own Masters Trucking because Randle Hodge gave me a second chance. I promised him if I ever saw anyone else who needed a hand, I’d pass on the favor.”
“Sounds very touching.”
“It’s the truth. I don’t lie,” he told her tightly.
Instantly contrite, she said, “I’m sorry if it sounded that way.”
“Apology accepted. Will you go?”
She leaned back in her chair and stared at him. Temptingly sinful. Her hands itched to grab the Hasselblad on the desk. She clenched them instead, glancing at his tux. “You must have been pretty sure of yourself.”
“This is part of plan A.”
“Plan A?”
“I was going to pose for some shots for Randle as sort of a joke. He’s a great guy, and the reason I got into the trucking business. I owe him more than I can ever repay,” Trent explained, then grinned. “He can’t stand anyt
hing but his overalls. I used to handle sales for that very reason. But this afternoon I got to thinking, and decided you needed someone who could really draw attention to your work.”
Just then the buzzer rang. Dominique looked around Trent to see a mountain of a black man in the doorway. She glanced up at Trent in confusion.
He grinned. “This is Cowboy country, and you’re about to meet one. Buzz him in.”
The huge man didn’t look like a cowboy to her. She shuddered just to think of the poor horse that had to carry him all day. Besides, he was dressed in what looked like a white silk, bandless shirt and black linen slacks. Definitely not the attire of any cowboy she had ever seen.
“Dominique, don’t keep the man waiting.”
She buzzed him in. He wasn’t alone. Two adorable little girls who appeared to be about five and three years old were with him. Their outfits matched from the headbands in their short Afros to their shorts sets, to the abstract cuffs of their white socks. Each child had her small hand curled trustingly around one of the man’s fingers.
“Hey, Man,” greeted the cowboy. “My wife had to go on an errand, and I had to babysit. Hope that’s not a problem?”
Trent reached up the long distance and slapped the man on the back. “Just so you’re here. Isn’t that right, Dominique?”
Not sure of what was going on, but ingrained with good manners, Dominique came around her desk and extended her hand. “That’s right. I’m Dominique.”
His jaw unhinged slightly. Distractedly he lifted his hand. “Pleased to meet you.” The little girls took off for an old leather trunk filled with ladies’ antique clothes. “You got anything in there they can mess up?”
“No,” she answered.
“Good. Ready to shoot.”
Her gaze swept over him again. He looked rather stiff and intimidating. Maybe if he were in his regular clothes—“You want to take your picture dressed like that?”
“What the matter with the way I’m dressed?” he said, not sounding at all pleased.
“Nothing,” she hastened to reassure the towering man.
“He looks fine, Dominique,” Trent said, almost glaring at her.
