The Boss and the Plain Jayne Bride (Harlequin Romance)

by Heather MacAllister

  “Garrett, go now,” Jayne urged firmly before he could leave. “Ask to speak with Elaine Ormand”

  Their eyes met and a flash of pain shot through his.

  “Okay,” he agreed and was gone.

  Jayne made a little sound of distress. Poor Garrett. He’d been betrayed by a man who was a father figure to him. They’d all been betrayed, but Garrett was suffering the most, mainly because the others didn’t know. He was a tragic figure and she, Jayne, had to help him. Even now, his handsome brow was probably furrowed in anguish, she thought with a romantic sigh.

  But it had better be furrowed as he drove to the bank, the practical part of Jayne thought as she turned on the computer. In fact, before she delved deeply into the books, she ought to pop out and check to see if Garrett had left yet. On the basis of Jayne’s word, Elaine had flagged the Venus account for her personal attention, but Jayne’s word was only good until the end of business today. She wasn’t entirely certain that Garrett understood this.

  Jayne peered into the reception area, but didn’t see him. Twice as many girls crowded the room as there had been before, but no Garrett.

  “If you’re looking for Garrett, he’s in the studio.” Micky, the receptionist, cheerfully slid off the stool and directed Jayne down the hall to a door at the end.

  Jayne smiled her thanks, thinking that Micky was nice. She’d forgive her for the fact that she was so thin and tall that bad hair looked good on her.

  The agency office space was thin and long, just like a model, Jayne thought as she walked toward the studio. Before she got to the end of the hall, a side door opened and a girl wearing a kimono and carrying a binder stepped out. She smiled nervously at Jayne and opened the door to the studio. Jayne followed her in and found herself at the end of a line of women waiting to speak to an older, chicly dressed woman.

  “I’m sorry, but our minimum height requirement is five feet, eight inches.” She smiled with professional sympathy and returned a form to a disappointed girl.

  There was a flash and Jayne’s attention was drawn to the other end of the room where a gray, wrinkled canvas backdrop hung from the ceiling. A photographer took pictures of swimsuit-clad girls. Beside him was Garrett, enjoying the view.

  Or that’s the way it appeared to Jayne. At any rate, he wasn’t furrowing his brow, he didn’t appear to be suffering, and there was nothing tragic about the way he was encouraging a brunette with a shy, full-lipped smile.

  The girl relaxed, shifting her position. The camera flashed, and Garrett grinned at her. “That was great!” After he helped her on with her wrap, she showed him a book of pictures she’d brought.

  So much for suffering the agonies of betrayal, Jayne thought, feeling foolish. But if he didn’t get over to the bank, he’d be suffering the agonies of bankruptcy.

  She’d warned him, given him her best professional advice. And professional was the key word here, she lectured herself as she left the studio without speaking to him. That was the only kind of relationship she was ever going to have with him.

  Yes, she’d allowed herself to develop a silly crush on a client and no, that wasn’t professional. At least she’d recognized how hopeless it was before she made a fool of herself.

  Garrett Charles spent his days surrounded by beautiful women. He wasn’t going to notice her. Not that way, at least.

  Jayne would have to be satisfied with Garrett’s gratitude after she discovered what George Windom had done and how he’d done it.

  There was always the “shooting the messenger” danger, but she buried that thought. Sitting at the desk, she reached for the hardbound ledgers Garrett had brought to her office yesterday and looked forward to having that fabulous Garrett smile directed her way.

  Three frustrating hours passed. Jayne was aware that they’d passed solely because Micky came to the door and offered to order lunch for her.

  Jayne absently mumbled her agreement and it seemed like just a few seconds later that she looked up to find Garrett carrying two plastic domed plates and a couple of bottles of mineral water across the room. “Ready for a break?” he asked, setting the bottles on her desk. “I wouldn’t have disturbed you, but you’ve been at it a long time.”

  She had been at it a long time, and frankly, she needed more to look forward to than Garrett’s smile, fabulous though it was. Lunch would be an excellent start.

  Suddenly hungry, Jayne turned off the computer monitor and stood, stretching out the kinks in her muscles. “Did you go to the bank?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, making Jayne feel like a nag.

  “I’ve had clients ignore my advice in the past and it caused problems,” she explained.

  He grimaced. “You gave an order, not advice.”

  “I’m sor—”

  “No, you were right to insist. I would have put it off because once I change the bank cards, it means George is really gone.”

  If you’re lucky, Jayne thought.

  Garrett offered her a plate and a packet of plastic flatware. “So what’s the story here? Bad news? Good news? No news?”

  “No news.” Jayne pried the dome off the plate and stared at a naked grilled chicken breast and fruit salad. A small naked grilled chicken breast.

  “No news is good news?” Garrett had pulled a chair next to the desk and was already eating his lunch. He had the same thing in the same quantity she did.

  “Not in this case.” Jayne hated to sound discouraging, but the more she studied the records, the grimmer the situation became. “I am going to make some phone calls this afternoon. By the end of the day, I hope I can tell you where you stand.” Jayne took a bite of the chicken. It tasted healthy, but it could use a smidgen of gravy. No, it needed a lot of gravy. Why couldn’t gravy be healthy?

  Garrett gestured toward the books and files that covered the desk, the credenza and the floor in between. “Could you give me a more detailed update?” He sounded casual, but Jayne knew he wasn’t.

  It was only natural that he was worried. The thing was, she didn’t want to say anything yet because there was more than one explanation for why the totals didn’t add up.

  “I’d rather not,” she said. “I’ll just give you the bottom line when I find it.” And she had a feeling that would be bad enough.

  “I want to know how you reach the bottom line,” he said with an edge to his voice. “If you’ll explain the process, I’ll try to keep up.”

  Try to keep up? Did he think she doubted that he could understand what happened? How absurd. “I can’t even keep up!” Ripping off her glasses, she rubbed her temples. “Every time I think I’ve finally figured out what Windom has done, I haven’t.” She met Garrett’s eyes. “I wanted to have the answers for you right away, but it’s just a huge, giant mess!”

  To her horror, she felt her eyes burn, which meant tears were on the way. Sure she was way overdue for a break, but now she was about to be hideously unprofessional. It was just that she had wanted to appear to be brilliantly clever because brains was all she had and she wanted Garrett to admire her for something.

  She rubbed her forehead, hoping Garrett wouldn’t notice her eyes.

  He stood and a moment later, she felt his hand on her shoulder. He’d noticed. “I’m sorry I jumped on you. I...don’t want you to keep anything from me. It’s not a matter of trust, it’s that I need to understand what’s going on.”

  The weight of his hand was warm and reassuring. Jayne thought being taken into his arms and being held close to his chest would be even more warm and reassuring, but Garnett squeezed her shoulder then withdrew his hand.

  “It’s okay.” Jayne swallowed and blinked back the tears before her eyes could fill. “I’m still lost, myself, right now and need more information.”

  “Is there any way I can help?” Garrett asked.

  Jayne thought of the phone calls to be made. Garrett could make the calls. In fact, it would be best if he did. “Sure, if you’ve got the time.”

  “I’ve made
time.” He snapped the cover back on his half-eaten lunch. “Tomorrow is Friday. Payday.”

  “And there’s nothing in the checking account.”

  “Nope.”

  Jayne lost her appetite, a first for her. She snapped the cover back on her own lunch and set it aside. “You’ll have to liquidate some of your investments.”

  “What’s the penalty for cashing in a CD early?” he asked.

  Jayne brightened. “You’ve got CDs? Where?”

  “Aren’t they listed in the books?”

  Uh-oh. Jayne shook her head, the few bites of chicken she’d eaten sitting heavily in all its low-fat splendor in her stomach.

  Garrett strode over to the file cabinets and yanked open a drawer. Jayne hoped he’d find something. But having combed through the files earlier, she knew he wouldn’t.

  And he didn’t.

  “There were CDs,” Jayne said. “The last of them was cashed in three years ago.”

  “Cashed in?” Garrett looked stunned. “Why? Does it say?”

  Jayne pointed to one of the ledgers. “It appears Windom was investing. You own shares in several limited partnerships.” Which looked suspicious to her, but she said nothing.

  “I don’t remember any of this.”

  “Could he have told your parents?”

  “Possibly.” Garrett walked around the desk to stand beside her and stare at the ledgers. “They would have agreed to anything he recommended. That was George’s job. They couldn’t keep up with business details. We were all booked heavily during that time, flying from one shoot to another.” He gave a short humorless laugh. “I think we actually went an entire year without all being in the same place at the same time. But the jobs were there and when I wasn’t in school, I was working.” He shook his head, no doubt blaming himself.

  Great, Jayne. You’ve depressed the client. “Hey, let’s don’t panic until we see what the investments are worth. That’s what I’d planned to do this afternoon.” Jayne handed him the stack of files she’d pulled. “These are statements and transaction verifications. They should have phone numbers somewhere on them.”

  “And what information do you want?”

  “Current value and liquidation procedures.”

  Slowly Garrett took the files. “Do you mind if I work in here?”

  Mind? Mind having Garrett in the same room with her for an entire afternoon? Was he kidding? “Sure! I mean, no, I don’t mind.”

  When he saw Jayne’s face light up, Garrett almost changed his mind. He wasn’t going to be as much help as she obviously expected. Though he was trying to hide it, from himself as well as from the Venus staff, Garrett was worried. He also didn’t want to chance being overheard, which was the main reason he wanted to make the calls from this office.

  Too, he found being around Jayne comforting. For a moment, he’d thought she was patronizing him, but quickly realized his mistake. She’d been working with an incredible intensity the past several hours. He’d looked in on her when he’d returned from the bank, and she’d never noticed.

  Yeah, if he had to have a financial crisis, Jayne Nelson was the person to have it with.

  Clearing a spot at the edge of the desk, Garrett moved the telephone and made his first call.

  The number had been disconnected.

  Jayne stopped what she was doing and searched the files for the most recent statement from M&I Energy Partnership, Limited, but it appeared the one Garrett had, dated the previous August, was the most recent.

  “I don’t see a tax statement from them for last year.” She flipped through the agency tax return. “M&I is listed as an asset here.”

  “How about the year before?” Garrett noticed that she’d gone through at least five years’ worth of returns.

  “It’s here as well.” She was silent a moment as she compared the two returns.

  Yeah, if anyone could get him out of this mess, Jayne could do it. Garrett watched her concentrate. Her head moved just enough to bounce one of her curls against her cheek, drawing his attention. She had great skin, a creamy white most models would envy.

  He was surprised by an impulse to touch it, maybe to tuck the curl behind her ear.

  Jayne beat him to it, looking up and shoving her hair out of the way. “Same figures.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Well, it could—”

  “Jayne.”

  She reluctantly met his eyes and Garrett’s stomach knotted. “What does that mean?” he repeated.

  “It means that M&I had two identical operating years in a row, down to the penny, or that George Windom fabricated the numbers.”

  Garnett stared at the now worthless piece of paper in the file. With a sudden, savage movement, he crumpled it and threw it at the trash can where it bounced off the rim and rolled across the floor. Even with all the evidence to the contrary, he still hadn’t wanted to believe that George had stolen from them.

  “I can check on the Internet—”

  “Don’t bother. You won’t find this company or the money.” Garrett closed the file and prepared to call the next name on his list, not that he held out much hope.

  The same thing, or a variation happened with every other investment. George Windom had inflated values and invested poorly, then tried to cover his mistakes. He’d apparently been doing so for several years.

  The bottom line was that the Charles family was, for all practical purposes, flat broke.

  At the end of the afternoon, Garrett stared at the financial wreckage of his family’s company. “Now I know why George ran,” he said. “He knew with me working in the office I’d eventually figure out what he’d been doing. But did he have to clean us out?”

  “He probably needed money to live on,” Jayne offered in a small voice.

  “But what are we supposed to live on?”

  She shook her head, not that Garrett had expected her to have any answers.

  He jabbed a finger at one of the ledgers. “Do you realize that George never deposited the last month’s models’ fees in escrow? He put the money in the checking account with the agency operating funds, which not only is very illegal, it means he stole from every model we represent. And when we don’t pay them tomorrow, everyone in the industry will know it. Other agencies will snap them up and that’s the end of Venus.”

  “Maybe not.”

  In spite of himself, Garrett felt a flicker of hope. “What do you mean?”

  “I have a plan.”

  “You do?”

  Coloring, she looked down. “Okay, not a complete plan. At least not yet.”

  “Oh great.”

  At his disparaging tone, her head snapped up. “But I will! I just have to work out a few details.”

  He gazed into sincere, honest brown eyes, free of artifice. They demanded that he believe in her.

  And so help him, he did. He sat back in the chair. “Okay, then. Let’s talk details.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  A PLAN? Details? She had no plan. No details.

  Jayne had no plan for Garrett because the only logical plan in this instance would be to file for bankruptcy right after calling the police and that’s what she should have advised him. But she hadn’t.

  And why? Because of a noble desire to erase the anguish from his face? Ease the clenching of his jaw? Soothe away the pain of betrayal in his eyes?

  Well, it was desire, all right, but it was the memory of his bare chest in the cruise brochure that compelled Jayne to try to find a way to continue working with Garrett.

  If Garrett filed for bankruptcy, the lawyers would take over and Jayne would be out of the picture. She’d never see him again. Therefore, she’d offered a plan. A plan she did not yet have.

  She was not proud of herself.

  And now he sat there, expecting her to come up with something brilliant. She was an accountant, not a miracle worker.

  But she was highly motivated.

  “You do want to save your company?” she asked
to verify that they were on the same wavelength.

  “Of course!”

  A belated sense of professionalism made her caution him. “It will be expensive.”

  “I never had any doubt,” he said dryly.

  “All right then.” Jayne’s last wisps of guilt evaporated. “Your top priority is to meet your financial obligations tomorrow. Can you do that out of your personal funds?”

  Garrett shook his head. “Hardly. I tapped into them already.”

  “So we need another source.” It was a measure of Jayne’s desperation that she mentally checked her own bank balance. “What about your family?”

  “I don’t know. George handled our personal investments, too.”

  And no telling what he’d done with them, but that was a problem for another day. “Did he have access to your family’s checking accounts?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “If they could, would they be willing to kick in to cover the payroll?”

  Garrett drew a deep breath. “I don’t know,” he said once again.

  “Can you find out?” Jayne asked, trying not to sound irritated. Here she was, actually coming up with a plan, and Garrett wasn’t helping.

  “They’re in New York shooting Christmas catalogs. I’ll leave a message for them at the apartment.” He reached for the telephone.

  “Garrett?” Jayne looked over at the landscape above the filing cabinets. “What’s the painting worth?”

  He followed her gaze. “Monetary value, or sentimental value?”

  Jayne didn’t answer.

  “Sonry.” Garrett waved away his question. “We gave that to George last year on his fifteenth anniversary with us.”

  And all the time the man had been ripping them off. However, Jayne had learned that it was best to keep emotions out of financial discussions. “So, technically, you don’t own it.”

  “I know where you’re going with this.” Garrett stared at the painting. “Tell you what. Let’s leave that for our backup plan.”

  Backup plan? He was giving her too much credit. With a last glance at the painting, Jayne turned away from it. “Okay, but let’s hope your family comes through.”