Jayne forced herself to smile. “It’s not like I’ve never been here before. Don’t worry about me. Have a safe trip.”
It was probably just as well that the entire Charles family was out of the office while Jayne settled in.
It seemed she was spending more and more time on the telephone, closing accounts, trying to reassure creditors and talking with Elaine, her contact at the bank.
And then there was the news that George Windom’s trail had led south, out of the country. Jayne wasn’t surprised. She had a frank chat with the investigators about the chances of recovering any of the funds he’d stolen. They weren’t encouraging, which didn’t surprise her, either.
Reluctantly she called the Charles apartment in New York, hoping to get Garrett.
Sandor answered. “Yo.”
There was no reason to ask for Garrett. She was only relaying information. “Sandor, this is Jayne Nelson.”
“What’s up?”
“I was just calling to let you know that the investigators have determined that George Windom has left the country.”
“I could have told them that.”
Privately Jayne agreed. “Now it’s been confirmed.”
“Whatever. Say, what’s the deal with this allowance you’ve got us on?”
“Allowance?”
“Yeah. Where’s my money?”
“George took most of it.”
“No. I mean the money for the shoot Sasha and I did for the perfume.”
“As I explained in the new business plan, you and your family are going to have to put as much of your income as possible back into the company.”
“Man, I got like, a third of what I should.”
And it was still a lot of money. “I know it’s going to be hard and you’re going to have to make sacrifices—”
“I can’t live on that!”
“Well, Sandor, you’re just going to have to cut back for a while.”
“Forget it!” He slammed the phone in her ear.
Jayne was getting tired of having angry young men hang up on her, but she refused to tattle to Garrett.
Until three days later when Elaine called from the bank. “Jayne, I’m sorry I didn’t catch this in time to alert you, but there’s been a check returned for insufficient funds on Alexander Charles’s personal account.”
“Sandor has bounced a check?”
“Three thousand dollars.”
“What?”
“Do you want to transfer funds from another account to cover it?”
“No. Let me consult with them before we do anything.”
Elaine hesitated and Jayne knew she’d already asked her to bend the rules more than she should have.
Elaine exhaled. “Just a couple of hours, okay?”
“Thanks.”
Jayne called Garrett. He wasn’t at the apartment, so she left a message on the answering machine.
“I have a feeling this isn’t good news,” he said when he returned her call.
Jayne told him about the check. “If you want to transfer funds from somewhere to cover it, let me know right now so I can call Elaine at the bank.”
Garrett swore softly. “Any other time and I’d let Sandor deal with the consequences, but right now, we need to look rock solid financially or our creditors will get nervous, especially after that last round of bounced checks.”
Garrett was quiet for a moment and Jayne let him think. “Transfer his percentage from the operating fund and be sure you charge it against him,” he finally instructed.
“Will do.”
Jayne would have liked to have chatted a bit longer, but knew she had to call Elaine at once.
Fortunately, she was in time, but shuffling expenses for the month took her the rest of the afternoon.
What a day. It was time to meet Sylvia at the gym. Jayne filled her briefcase with paperwork to read at home. She now had a key to the back entrance, so she walked down the hall intending to let Micky know she was leaving.
Micky was talking to someone as she filed her nails.
“...three calls from Patrick. Says you two would be perfect for this white wool in Alaska shoot. He wants to go all black-and-white and arty with snow.”
“I hate snow.”
Jayne stopped in surprise. That sounded like Sandor.
“He knows. Says he’ll bump up your rates.”
“And I need the money now that little plain Jayne has closed the coffers so to speak.”
By now Jayne had figured out he was on the speakerphone.
“Hey. I like her. She’s smart.”
Jayne smiled. Good old Micky. Intending to say good-night, Jayne continued walking down the hallway.
“Darling, when you look the way she does you’d better hope you’ve got brains.”
“Sandor, you’re being so mean.”
“Look, she whined to big brother and I had to listen to a dreary lecture about the family pulling together. Well Sasha and I are the main support of the family, so if I want to buy a new sound system, then I should be able to and not have to grovel to a frumpy little accountant.”
One part of her, the mature, accountant part, knew Sandor was blowing off steam after being chewed out by Garrett.
The other part—the part that desperately wanted to be pretty—felt the sting of his words.
What had she done? Jayne numbly crept back down the hallway. Based on dinner and a good-night kiss, she’d given up an excellent position with a top accounting agency so she could fuel her fantasies about Garrett.
She’d been kidding herself. How could he find her attractive? She was frumpy, lumpy and short.
And then she saw the brass nameplate gleaming on her office door. Accounting Goddess. Garrett had put that there. The same Garrett who had never made her feel frumpy, lumpy, or short.
Jayne stared at the nameplate and was filled with new resolve. There was nothing she could do about being short, but she didn’t have to stay frumpy and lumpy. She was working in a modeling agency, after all. She should look her best.
Garrett would want her to.
“Are you absolutely certain water doesn’t have any calories?” Jayne complained at the end of another week of abusing her muscles and depriving herself of food. It was cardio day, so she and Sylvia were on the treadmills.
“Your metabolism hasn’t reset itself yet, that’s all,” Sylvia said. “Don’t you feel more energetic?”
“No,” grumbled Jayne.
Sylvia felt more energetic. She told Jayne so repeatedly. Sylvia’s already small skirts were slipping and sliding all around her now, too.
“Hey, Marlena said you canceled your facial.”
“Yes.” Jayne’s voice was clipped. “What’s the point?”
“Well...sometimes people get pimples after facials.”
Jayne knew this, unfortunately. “I repeat—what’s the point?”
“To have pretty skin.”
“My skin looked better before.”
Sylvia didn’t contradict her, but she couldn’t really. Jayne’s face had been a mass of red bumps after both facials with the skin technician at the spa Micky said all the models loved.
“I don’t enjoy it as much if you’re not there. Why don’t you see if Olga has room for a leg wax?”
“Yet another fun activity.”
“Then go have a pedicure,” Sylvia said with exasperation.
“There’s a thought.” Jayne liked pedicures, even though she was the only one who ever saw her toes. Sometimes, when she was in her office, she kicked off her shoes, just so she could look down at her toes. She wondered if Garrett liked toes.
“So when’s Garrett get back?” Sylvia asked.
“He and his family are going to be in New York another week,” Jayne answered.
She knew Sylvia was really wondering about Sandor, but didn’t want to ask outright. He hadn’t called her and in spite of what Garrett had said about Sylvia not getting hurt, Jayne was afraid that Sylvia had deeper
feelings for Sandor than was wise. She knew better than to say anything against him, however much she might want to.
“More time to lose weight!” With that, Sylvia increased the incline on the treadmill.
“You’re dropping weight pretty fast, aren’t you?”
“Twelve pounds, but I’ve really only cut out snacks. I never realized how much I ate in a day.”
Jayne had lost a whopping two pounds and she felt she’d cut out as much food as Sylvia. Perhaps not.
But she’d made real progress on the makeup front. With Micky’s help, she’d bought shadows and pencils, powders and creams, foundation and lipstick. She had to get up thirty minutes earlier in the morning just to put everything on.
Between that, the facials and various beauty treatments and the exercising, she was spending an additional two hours a day on nothing but her appearance.
She hoped Garrett would think it was worth it.
CHAPTER NINE
FRIDAY was a wonderful and glorious day. Garrett called to say that he and his parents were flying back that weekend.
And the skirt of Jayne’s pale blue suit was too loose at the waist.
The waists of most of Jayne’s skirts were loose. The only ones that fit were the ones that had been too snug in the first place.
She called Sylvia. “What do I do?”
“You pin it with a safety pin, then meet me for a long lunch and we’ll shop.”
Jayne skipped breakfast, even though she knew she was breaking a cardinal rule of dieting, because she was afraid to eat anything in case her sudden weight loss reversed itself.
Sylvia was impressed with Jayne’s loose skirts. “It’s like the fat finally got tired of hanging on and just let go.” She flipped through the rack of dresses a size smaller than Jayne usually wore.
“It’s been a month—isn’t it about time?”
“I’d say so. Actually I thought you were just cheating on your diet.”
“Sylvia!”
Sylvia pulled out a sleeveless turquoise sheath and held it up to Jayne.
“I can’t wear that to the office.”
“Sure you can. It comes with this.” Sylvia hauled out a jacket with a jewel collar.
And Jayne fell in love. She fell in love with a lot of the clothes they found and spent way too much money. Buying clothes had never been so much fun.
“You know something?” Sylvia studied her in the dressing room mirror. “Your face is thinner.”
“Good.”
“Well...your hair doesn’t look right anymore.”
“My hair hasn’t looked right since the perm.” Jayne fluffed it, then pulled it back. “What do you think?”
“I’m thinking haircut.”
Jayne was trying to find a diplomatic way to keep Sylvia’s scissors out of her hair when she said, “Ask Micky who cuts her hair and if you can be worked in on Saturday. Stress that it’s an emergency.”
On Monday morning, Garrett knocked on the door of his accounting goddess and found a stranger sitting at her desk.
“Garrett! You’re back.”
“Jayne?” The woman sounded like Jayne, but didn’t look like the Jayne he’d left two weeks ago. What had she done to herself? “You...look great,” he said, knowing a comment was called for.
Beaming, Jayne announced, “I cut my hair.”
Garrett studied her. The new length was only a couple of inches shorter, but her curls were now glazed into even corkscrews that fell just below her cheeks. It put her face into proportion and emphasized her eyes. “I like it.”
Garrett peered closer, noting the addition of makeup and a professional eyebrow shaping as well. She looked like Jayne, but with more polish.
He decided he could get used to her new appearance. “I like the rest of you, as well,” he said, indicating her outfit with a sweep of his hand. “So how about that lunch I owe you? Can you make it today?” After two undiluted weeks with his family, he was ready to talk about something other than clothes and who wore them.
Her smile seemed brighter than he’d ever seen it. “I’d love to!”
As the morning wore on, Garrett looked forward to lunch with Jayne as an oasis of calm in the midst of the frantic activity that had exploded in the agency since his return.
Several of the new models they’d signed planned to visit and make the rounds in Houston—and talk with Jayne, as they’d been promised. Garrett knew that she’d be overloaded within a few days and wanted to have this time with her before they both got too busy.
He took Jayne to an Italian place he’d recently discovered. Small, tucked behind stately oaks on lower Westheimer, it wasn’t popular with the “in” crowd yet. Garrett was counting on a peaceful meal during which he and Jayne could continue their conversation from the dinner they’d shared. He wanted to clear his mind of the modeling business and Jayne was the only person he knew who could do that.
As he suspected, only two other tables were occupied. A mural was slowly winding its way across the stucco walls. Garrett had enjoyed watching its progress on his previous visits.
“This place has great manicotti,” he suggested when they opened their menus. “Or if you’re feeling self-indulgent, there’s always fettuccine Alfredo.”
“With about a million fat grams,” Jayne said, shaking her head. “And the manicotti isn’t much better.”
She couldn’t know that she sounded exactly like his mother and sister and half the models he knew. He hadn’t expected Jayne to care about fat grams, or if she did, he didn’t want to know about it. “Well, whatever you order, save room for the tiramisu. It’s some of the best I’ve ever had.”
“Too rich.” Jayne handed the menu to the waiter. “I’ll have the fruit plate without dressing, please.”
The waiter wrote and raised his eyebrow inquiringly.
“Nothing else, thanks,” Jayne said.
Garrett laughed. “That’s a joke, right? Now what are you really having?”
“The fruit plate,” she insisted, a determined expression on her face.
Feeling vaguely disappointed, Garrett ordered the manicotti. “So how have you been getting along at the agency while I’ve been gone?” he asked.
“Fine,” she answered. “It was probably the easiest transition in the history of job changes.”
“Any other fallout from George?”
Jayne shook her head. “I’ve got everything under control.”
Garrett wanted more detail, but supposed it wasn’t fair to ask her when she didn’t have the records nearby for reference. “Payroll’s coming up. How do things look?”
“Even with covering Sandor’s check, you’ll still be okay.”
Garrett surmised he was going to have to wait for a definition of “okay.” It seemed Jayne didn’t want to get into an in-depth business discussion, which should have been fine. He hadn’t intended this to be a strictly business lunch,- anyway. It was just that she was usually very precise in her answers and he enjoyed listening to that precision.
“How was New York?” she asked. “Any good gossip?”
Garrett thought he’d never hear Jayne utter the word “gossip.” “Political, or financial?”
She laughed. “Fashion, of course.”
Jayne hadn’t been idle while Garrett had been gone. Instead of taking home financial journals to read, she’d been reading the fashion magazines in the reception area. She wanted to impress Garrett with her new knowledge of his business. It only made sense, since it was now her business, too.
As she talked, she noticed that he was looking at her in a way he never had before. Good. She wanted him seeing her in a different way. She had to have some reason to force herself to the gym every day.
She’d also made it a point to learn the models they currently represented and to identify the stars who were signed with competing agencies. He probably thought she wasn’t interested, and until recently, she hadn’t been. “Tell me, did your parents get Brynn and Darnia to sign with us?
”
“Ah.” Garrett shifted in his chair. “They’re thinking about it, but probably yes.”
“That’s great. I saw the editorial layout they did in the May issue of Vogue.”
He looked at her in surprise. “You did?”
Jayne nodded, smiling in satisfaction. Garrett was impressed, she just knew it.
“You’ll get to meet them later this week,” he told her. “They want to talk to you about their personal finances.”
“I’m going to meet Brynn and Damia?”
Garrett eyed her warily. “Yes.”
“Oh my gosh. What am I going to wear? I mean, I want to look professional, but not frumpy. After all, our business is fashion.”
Garrett just stopped himself from putting his hands around the neck of the alien sitting at the table with him and shouting, “Who are you and what have you done with Jayne?”
He didn’t but after half an hour of the sort of insipid conversation he’d hoped to avoid, he paid the bill, not even waiting to see if she wanted coffee. He didn’t think he could stand it.
What had happened to her while he’d been gone? This afternoon, when he heard her report, would be better.
It had to be better.
“Sylvia, can you talk?” Jayne rarely called her friend during business hours, but just had to after the wonderful lunch she’d shared with Garrett.
“Yeah, I can type and listen at the same time. Was lunch good?”
“I didn’t forget a single model’s name and I even discussed a couple of designer trends!”
“Way to go!”
“You ought to see the way he’s looking at me now. I think he’s actually noticed me!”
She and Sylvia agreed to meet fifteen minutes earlier than usual at the gym and Jayne got ready for her meeting with Garrett.
About thirty minutes before she was expecting him, she was surprised when he knocked on the open door. “I wasn’t—”
He held up a hand. “I’m early, I know. I wanted to get away from the phone.” Sitting in one of the chairs by her desk, he exhaled and rubbed the side of his neck. “I feel like I’ve been talking for hours.”
The Boss and the Plain Jayne Bride (Harlequin Romance) Page 12
