by Sandra Brown
They’d sniffed for other reasons, too.
Her legs had been chauvinistically discussed over drinks and in the men’s locker room at the company gym. Several among them, single and married, had expressed an interest in exploring her long, slender thighs all the way to the top. Unfortunately, none who had dared to test the waters had been granted even the privilege of wading.
Throughout her career in the business world, Jade had ignored petty gossip and sexual innuendoes directed at her. She kept her personal life just that. She avoided the inevitable inner-office politics. She didn’t invite confidences and shared none. She treated everyone in a friendly but detached manner. Her focus had always been on her work, not on her colleagues.
Within a very short time, she had proved her mettle at GSS and had been richly rewarded by being placed in charge of the TexTile plant. However, no one—not George Stein, not anybody—knew how vitally important this move was to her. She wanted to do a good job, and yes, she wanted to make the new TexTile plant a state-of-the-art, commercial success. But none had guessed that her obsession with returning to Palmetto with GSS’s clout behind her was more personal than professional.
“Soon,” she murmured as she left the lounge chair she had relaxed in while talking to Graham.
She moved to the window across the room. Her accommodations for this trip hadn’t been randomly selected. She had chosen to stay at this hotel because it was located across the street from a busy construction site. Other hotel guests might have viewed that as a disadvantage, but the unsightly view was exactly what Jade had requested when she placed her reservation.
Since her arrival in Los Angeles three days earlier, she had been spying on the construction site, jotting down details and impressions. Jade didn’t regard this as trickery, merely a sound business practice. If she wanted to succeed in wreaking havoc on Palmetto’s unjust economy, she could leave nothing to chance.
Finding the right contracting outfit for TexTile was essential. The contractor couldn’t be someone who would decide he didn’t like Palmetto and pull out midway through the job, or—what she feared most, because it had happened before—that he wouldn’t like working for a woman. And because Jade fully intended to oversee every facet of the TexTile plant she needed to have only the strongest allies in her corner. She had placed stringent demands on herself to be the smartest and toughest she could be. The people around her could be no less—especially the builder. For a long while, he and she would be GSS’s only representatives in Palmetto.
Before leaving New York, she had packed a pair of hightech binoculars. She used them now to assess the work in progress across the street. She wanted to learn how the contractor ran his daily operation. Were safety precautions enforced? Were materials wasted? Were his crews diligent or lackadaisical?
Aimed directly across the street at the corresponding floor of her sixteenth-story room, the automatic focusing mechanism instantly brought the construction workers to within touching distance. It was lunchtime. The laborers were idly joking among themselves as they uncapped Thermoses and unwrapped sandwiches. By all appearances, it was a convivial crew, which was a good sign and a tribute to the contractor. Movement just beyond her field of vision caught her eye and she moved the binoculars a fraction.
It was he.
This one man had attracted her attention the first time she had raised the binoculars and pointed them at the unfinished building. For three days he had continued to arouse her curiosity. Unlike the others, he wasn’t taking a lunch break. It seemed he never rested or associated with co-workers. He worked incessantly and independently, keeping his helmeted head down, his concentration focused on the business at hand.
Now, while he was hunkered down consulting a set of blueprints, a sudden gust of wind blew a corn-chip bag against his leg. She saw his lips move as he kicked the bag back toward the circle of workers. One picked up the cellophane bag and hastily stuffed it into his lunchbox.
Good for you, she thought. Keeping the work site clean was one of her prerequisites.
She had seen all she needed to see, but she was irrationally reluctant to lower the binoculars. His separatism intrigued her. His bearded face never smiled. She’d never seen him without his opaque sunglasses. He was wearing clothes similar to those he had worn yesterday and the day before—old Levi’s, a faded red tank top, boots, and work gloves. His arms were sleek and well muscled, the skin baked to a dark bronze. The temperature was mild, typical of Southern California, yet through the powerful binoculars she was able to see that sweat had dampened his dense chest hair and had formed a triangle in the cloth of his top.
As she continued to watch, he removed his hard hat only long enough to rake back a mane of sun-streaked brown hair that almost reached his shoulders. Then, just as he was about to replace his hat, he turned his head and looked toward the hotel. As though she had beckoned him, he seemed to be looking straight at her window. It sent a jolt through her.
Guiltily, she dropped the binoculars and jumped away from the window, even though the glass was tinted and mirrored from the outside. He couldn’t possibly have seen her, yet she was shaken. If his stare behind the dark sunglasses was as intense as his stance, he was a man who wouldn’t appreciate being spied on.
Her palms were damp. She wiped them on her skirt. Her tummy felt weightless. She quickly poured herself a glass of water and drank it. She couldn’t imagine what had come over her. For years, the sexes had been homogenized in her mind. Her attempt to have a romantic relationship with Hank had ended in heartache for both of them. Professional counseling hadn’t helped.
After months of therapy, the female psychologist had said, “We know what caused your condition. How you deal with it is up to you. In order for healing to take place, Miss Sperry, you must participate in the process.”
Jade’s candid reply had been, “I can’t. I tried, and only ended up hurting someone I care about a great deal.”
“Then I’m afraid we’re at an impasse. It’s going to take courage on your part to establish another sexual relationship.”
Jade didn’t lack courage, but rather the selfishness to break another person’s heart. Because there were no guarantees that she would ever be “cured,” she refused to take chances at another’s expense. That’s why her very real physical reaction to the man in the binoculars stunned her. She sat down at the small writing desk and made another notation in her notebook. Her energy was generated by something much stronger than a potent sex drive. Robbed of the privilege of ever completely loving a man, or of accepting a man’s love, she was more determined than ever to seek restitution. No one in Palmetto would have to endure the injustices the Patchetts had chosen to perpetrate. After all these years, she was very close to achieving her goals.
The days in L.A. had been well spent. After observing and analyzing for three days, she was convinced that Dave Seffrin had found the contractor for TexTile. Tomorrow she would come out from behind the binoculars and introduce herself.
* * *
Standing before the mirror on the door of her hotel room, Jade analyzed her image. She had observed her thirtieth birthday two years before. Time’s ravages had been slight. She had maintained a youthful slenderness without compromising any feminine curves. There was still a natural rosiness in her cheeks. Her hair was glossy and dark, with no signs of graying yet. Her eyes, as blue as ever, were still her most arresting feature.
Her favorite wardrobe color was black. She wore it frequently. The smart, two-piece suit she had chosen to wear today was black, but lightweight enough to feel comfortable in the Southern California climate.
As she left the hotel, Jade recalled all the years since her graduation from Dander College that had led her to this point. She had stayed at the job in Charlotte, North Carolina, until a better one in Birmingham, Alabama, had come along. Her duties had been in purchasing, but she was hired in a middle-management position. There followed a series of other jobs, although she stayed within the area of te
xtile and clothing manufacturing, taking with her the knowledge she had gained under Miss Dorothy Davis’s tutelage.
She, Graham, and Cathy, who became a member of the family, relocated several times. Intuitively, Jade knew when she had acquired all that her current position could offer and it was time to progress. Her employers always regretted seeing her leave. The only exception was one whom she was forced to threaten with a charge of sexual harassment. Because he was her superior and didn’t take her threats seriously, she left after only six months.
Most of her experiences had been rewarding. Along the way, she had learned the technical aspects of the business, marketing strategy, and how to maximize production efficiency. Her ultimate goal, however, exceeded the boundaries of these comparatively small industries. Her scope was much broader. When the right opportunity came along, she would be prepared for it.
She studied. She faithfully perused business magazines, so she was well acquainted with GSS long before she read The Wall Street Journal article that would have such a pivotal effect on her future. She already knew that GSS was one of the largest and ever-growing conglomerates in the world. The focus of the article was on GSS’s recent acquisition of three textile plants, which, according to the vice president being interviewed for the article, were currently albatrosses.
After reading the article several times, a plan began to form in Jade’s mind. At the time, she was working for a company headquartered in Atlanta, but she knew where she wanted to go next. That evening, she had placed a long-distance call to New York City.
“Hank? Hi. It’s Jade.”
“Hey, what’s up? How are you? How’s Graham?”
“Growing like a weed. One of these days he’ll be as tall as you.”
“Is Cathy okay?”
“She’s fine. As invaluable to me as ever.”
Following Jade’s encounter with Lamar Griffith at Mitch’s funeral, she had had a solemn and frank talk with Hank. She told him that, in spite of the psychotherapy she had undergone, she could not engage in a physical relationship. At the risk of sacrificing his friendship, she wanted him fully to understand that it would remain platonic.
Encouraged by the kiss they had shared that morning, he was initially dismayed, then angry, over Jade’s sudden reversal. He stormed out; Jade didn’t see him for months. Then one evening he unexpectedly showed up at the house as though nothing had happened. Their friendship resumed where it had left off. By way of explanation, he had simply said, “I’d rather be your friend than nothing.”
As she moved from city to city and job to job, she and Hank stayed in close contact, writing and calling each other frequently. Consequently, he wasn’t surprised to hear from her when she called him in New York, where he had moved as soon as he’d received his degree in art and design.
Once they had caught up on personal news, she asked, “Didn’t you do some work for GSS at one time?”
“Last year. There was an article about them in the Journal today.”
“That’s what sparked my memory.”
“I was commissioned to redesign their corporate offices,” he told her. “I figured they needed a hefty tax writeoff. The bid I submitted was so capitalistically inspired that even I was ashamed to ask that much.”
“I doubt that.”
He laughed. “Anyway, they went for it.”
Hank had done very well for himself. After working with a commercial decorating firm for a few years he had gone out on his own, taking most of his clients with him. Their references had provided him with a solid and lucrative client base. Now, he designed interiors for new commercial buildings or existing ones under renovation. By delegating most of the dirty work to his two apprentices, he enjoyed creative leisure time, most of which he spent painting.
“As a company, how is GSS to work for?”
“Old man Stein—George is his first name—runs the place with an iron fist. Everybody is scared to death of him.”
“Did you meet him personally?”
“Naturally. We consulted on my designs to see if they were compatible with his idea of a productive work environment. Later, he became a real fan of my art. Forgive my immodesty.”
Jade wrestled with indecision. She hesitated to ask Hank for this particular favor. So far she hadn’t involved anyone else in her quest for retribution. Even Cathy, who knew about the rape and its appalling consequences, thought that Jade’s orchestrated career advancements were simply that. She didn’t know Jade’s ulterior motive.
Hank would grant any favor she asked, but she hated to exploit him. On the other hand, he wouldn’t be affected by the outcome. Rather than using a friend, she was simply taking advantage of a unique opportunity.
“Hank, could you get me an introduction?”
“To George Stein?” he asked, obviously surprised.
“If he’s the one everybody’s scared of, he’s the one I need to talk to.”
“Can I ask why?”
“I want to work for them.”
“You mean here in New York? God, I’d love having y’all up here, but I’d better warn you, they sure talk fast. You can’t find a fried catfish that’s fit to eat anywhere in this town, and, compared to George Stein, Leona Helmsley is Miss Congeniality.”
“I’m fully aware of the drawbacks, but it’s time I started playing hardball with the big boys.”
“GSS has a personnel department for each of its companies. Why not go through normal channels?”
“How many people apply for a job every day? My resumé looks good, but it could be months before it’s even reviewed. Besides, I want to go in at the top, not middle management.”
Hank whistled through his teeth. “Couldn’t you have started out with a smaller favor, something like asking me to scale the Empire State Building naked at high noon?”
“I know it’s asking a lot, Hank. If you can’t arrange it, I’ll understand.”
“Did I say I couldn’t? It’s just that George is a crotchety old man who has to be stroked just right or you’ve blown it. Give me a couple of days to think of an angle.”
“I’d rather meet him in a friendly, relaxed environment, somewhere away from his phalanx of subordinates. Can you swing that?”
Hank came through for her. He invited Mr. Stein to his studio to see a painting he had just completed. He baited the elderly man by telling him that the contemporary piece would look fantastic behind his desk.
Jade was waiting at Hank’s Soho loft when Stein’s chauffeur dropped him there. She was introduced as an out-of-town friend. Stein fell in love with the painting, haggled with Hank over a price, and purchased it for his office, which left him in a favorable mood.
Over drinks, Stein politely asked, “Are you also an artist, Ms. Sperry?”
If Jade had scripted it, she couldn’t have come up with a better opening line. “No, I work in the manufacturing and marketing of textiles.”
“She’s a vice president for an outfit in Atlanta that makes a line of workclothes,” Hank supplied.
“I read that GSS has recently acquired the three Kelso plants,” Jade remarked.
“That’s right.” Stein smelled a rat. He was frowning.
“Hmm.” Jade appeared unimpressed. She took a sip of her wine. “Hank, you really should water that plant in the corner. It—”
George Stein interrupted, “Are you familiar with the Kelso plants, Ms. Sperry?”
“Only by reputation.”
“Which is?”
She demurred. “I hope GSS can make them profitable, but—”
“But?” the old man prompted.
“But it will no doubt require a vast reorganization of the entire operation from management on down. Modernizing three plants will be expensive.” She shrugged, leaving him to draw his own conclusions.
“Will they be worth all that expense?”
“Coming up with an answer to that question would take months of evaluation, Mr. Stein. I’m hardly in a position to offer an opinion.”
“I asked for one, didn’t I?”
Hank stifled a laugh behind the cocktail olive he popped into his mouth. Jade said, “I know the business from the looms to the invoices, Mr. Stein. I know a well-run plant when I see one. I recognize problems that should be corrected, and I’m confident in my ability to solve those problems. However, I don’t offer opinions with nothing except industry gossip to base them on. Isn’t there someone within your organization who could provide you a more educated opinion?” She knew before asking that there wasn’t. Otherwise Stein wouldn’t be soliciting hers.
Before leaving Hank’s loft, he asked her to send him her resumé. “I assume you’d be interested in working for us.”
“If the offer is attractive enough, Mr. Stein.”
Jade, recalling that bizarre interview, now smiled to herself as she left the hotel. The Los Angeles haze was even thicker due to the dust from the construction site across the street. The racket was deafening, but Jade didn’t mind it. It was only a two-block walk to the contractor’s trailer. She decided to walk.
Memories of her first meeting with George Stein conjured up memories that had nothing to do with business.
“You’re as good as hired,” Hank had said after Stein left. “Let’s party.”
He uncorked another bottle of chilled white wine. While they sat on the pile of cushions that served as furniture, he reached for her hand and stroked the back of it with his thumb. “I’ve met someone, Jade,” he began.
“You mean a woman?”
“Uh-huh. I met her in the Macy’s home interiors department. She was trying to sell the ugliest sofa I’ve ever seen to an equally ugly broad. We made eye contact as she pointed out the finer points of this upholstered atrocity. By the time the broad produced her charge card, I couldn’t stop laughing.”
Jade leaned forward, eager to know more. “What’s her name?”
“Deidre. She’s got a degree in interior design and only took the job at Macy’s until she could get something better.”
“So you’ve got a lot in common.”
