The Boss and the Plain Jayne Bride

by Heather MacAllister

  “We’ll be meeting twice a week for six weeks,” she continued, and looked at him expectantly.

  He smiled a politely devastating smile. He had dimples. Jayne smothered her small whimper before it could escape.

  “I’ll call roll, so I can get to know you.” Please be on the list. Please be on the list.

  Suppressing the impulse to skip all the female names, Jayne began at the top of the alphabet and was rewarded when a deep male voice answered, “Here” to the name Garrett Charles.

  Garrett Charles. Jayne Nelson Charies Jayne Charles. Jaynie Charles. Mrs. Garrett Charles. She sighed and raced through the rest of the roster.

  He was on the list. He had actually paid money to take the class. He belonged here. The accounting gods were smiling on her.

  Pace Waterman offered a variety of courses and seminars such as this one geared toward people who were thinking of starting their own businesses. Naturally Pace Waterman hoped that the business would grow and eventually require the services of one of their accountants, especially during income tax season.

  The account executives took turns teaching the seminars and this was Jayne’s rotation.

  Lucky Jayne.

  She set the roster on the table, remembering to suck in her moussaka-laden stomach.

  “Ninety percent of all start-up businesses fail within one year due to lack of sufficient operating capital,” she began, wondering what kind of business Garrett Charles was in. He looked like the restaurant type.

  Why don’t you ask him? “I’m going to go around the room and have each of you tell a little about the business you have or plan to start. Then I can tailor the class more to your needs.” I’m good I’m really, really good.

  Boutiques, bookstores, craft stores, a couple of fastfood franchises, restaurants and...

  “I’m taking over the family modeling agency,” he said.

  Of course. She should have known that Garrett Charles was either a model or an actor.

  A feminine purr greeted his announcement as the women unconsciously straightened spines and hair. The men wore varying looks of disdain and threatened manhood.

  Jayne’s stomach muscles hurt. “I don’t know anything about the modeling business,” she blurted out. He knows that. All he has to do is look at you. You’re five-three and...curvy. And why did you let Sylvia give you a home perm?

  “And I don’t know anything about the accounting business.” Garrett stretched those gorgeous kissable lips of his into a smile that revealed teeth so straight and white they wouldn’t need retouching in a photograph. His dimples deepened and Jayne’s knees quivered. “I suppose that makes us even.”

  Even. She was even with a man who could look good in fluorescent lighting.

  “And I don’t know anything about this accounting stuff, either, but I sure would like to,” prompted one of Jayne’s male students. “So let’s get on with it, already.”

  She couldn’t remember the man’s name because she hadn’t been paying attention when she called roll.

  Turning to the man, Garrett presented his perfect profile to Jayne. “And what business are you in, Mr....?”

  “Name’s Monty. My mother-in-law is coming from Italy to live with the wife and me. She likes to cook.” He shrugged. “Friend of mine, he’s got a restaurant down in Montrose and he’s ready to retire. I got a mother-in-law who needs something to do. I figured, let her cook.” Monty spread his hands. “So I bought the place.”

  “And then you found out about the paperwork, right?” Garrett’s eyebrows arched.

  Monty made a disgusted sound. “You ain’t kiddin’.”

  Garrett had deflected Monty’s heckling and Jayne fell a little bit in love with him for it. However, this was her class and she could handle herself.

  “Most of you are probably feeling overwhelmed by the financial records you must keep for the government.” There was murmured agreement. “That’s exactly why Pace Waterman recommends that you take this overview. Then afterward, when you meet with one of our account executives, you’ll be able to make an informed decision about whether or not you need further assistance.” And naturally, Pace Waterman was standing by to offer that assistance, which an average of thirty-seven percent of the people finishing the seminar accepted—and paid for. The rest either dropped out, decided that owning their own business wasn’t such a good idea after all or actually did their own bookkeeping. Rarely did they contact another accounting firm, a fact Pace Waterman used to justify subsidizing the courses.

  Jayne removed a stack of papers from the table and passed them out. “This is a schedule of the subjects we’ll discuss. If you miss a topic, you may come to that session during another seminar.”

  While the class rustled the papers, Jayne distributed the course notebooks, vinyl binders with the Pace Waterman logo prominently featured. Jayne’s distaste for the relentless self-promotion was offset by the valuable information contained in the binders. Informed clients were satisfied clients was the Pace Waterman philosophy, to which Jayne heartily subscribed.

  The binders were on a small cart that Jayne wheeled around the room.

  She was going to see Garrett Charles up close. Would he be just as devastatingly attractive? Would there be some minute flaw in his appearance? Jayne refused to look his way until she was actually handing him his notebook.

  He glanced up to smile his thanks and Jayne’s gaze collided with his. Her breath caught. She couldn’t move. She barely felt him slide the binder out of her nerveless fingers. The Pace Waterman mint-green and burgundy conference room ceased to exist as Jayne lost herself in the marvel that was Garret Charles.

  He had beautiful skin the color of buttery leather with the slightest darkening above his upper lip. She inhaled and was pleased to discover that he wore no scent.

  “Thank you.” His deep voice broke the spell that paralyzed her.

  Flushing, Jayne lurched toward the next student.

  And bashed the cart into Garrett’s knee.

  She knew it the instant she felt the bump. “I’m so sorry!” she gasped as he grimaced.

  But it was an elegant, manly grimace, quickly smoothed.

  “No.” He waved away her apology and briefly massaged his leg. “I should have moved my foot out of the aisle.”

  “But it must hurt!” Jayne knelt to inspect the damage, brushing at the place on his khaki-clad thigh where the cart had left a dark smudge.

  “It’s fine now. Really.” He placed his hand directly over hers.

  Jayne stared at the well-shaped hand with its ringless fingers covering hers. She felt the muscles of his leg tense under her fingers and in that instant, became fully aware of her position. His waist and points south were directly in her line of sight and her hand was on the hard muscles of his thigh.

  Meeting his faintly amused blue eyes, Jayne gasped a horrified, “Ohmigosh!”, shot to her feet and blindly pushed the cart.

  There was a shuffling sound as the rest of the students drew in their legs. Behind her, Jayne knew at least three feet separated the cart from the next row of desks. Plenty of room, unless one were trying to get as close as possible to Garrett Charles, which she had been.

  Parking the cart in the front, Jayne gathered her tattered composure and faced the class. “If any of you had concerns about your personal safety during the class, I believe I’ve sufficiently demonstrated my proficiency with the rolling cart—” she gave it a pat “—a vastly underrated weapon.”

  Soft laughter broke the tension, but Jayne didn’t know how she got through the next two hours, or even what she said. Every time she looked at Garrett, she was in danger of losing her place in the lesson, so she had to concentrate more than usual. By the time she dismissed class, she had a headache.

  Resting her forehead against the dry erase board prior to cleaning it, Jayne didn’t realize at first that she had company.

  “Are you all right?” asked a deep male voice behind her.

  She whirled around, then
jammed the heel of her hand against her head as the pain speared through it. “Uh, I’ve got a headache,” she managed to say even though voices in her poor abused head were shouting at her to say something witty.

  His brow furrowed in attractive wrinkles. Attractive wrinkles for Pete’s sake. “I’m sorry.” He sounded as though he meant it. Good trick. “I noticed that you seemed distracted this evening,” he began diplomatically, “and I hope it wasn’t because you felt awkward about bumping me with the cart.”

  Bumping. How kind he was. “I am so sorry about that. How’s your leg? It’s bruised, isn’t it?” she asked, when he hesitated.

  “Don’t worry about it.” A corner of his mouth tilted upward, deepening a dimple. “Accidents happen.”

  “That’s very generous of you.”

  “Why? You’re telling me it wasn’t an accident?”

  Jayne’s eyes widened. “Of course it was!” she spluttered, horrified.

  Garrett laughed lightly and touched her briefly on the shoulder. “Relax. I’m kidding. I only wanted you to know that I’m not the kind of person who’ll have his lawyer camping on your doorstep within twentyfour hours, in case you were worried.”

  Jayne’s mouth opened. She’d never even considered that he might sue. Her financial life flashed before her.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Everything okay?”

  Jayne shut her mouth and, having lost the power of speech, nodded.

  “See you on Thursday, then.” He turned and walked out of the conference room, footsteps muffled by the industrial carpeting.

  Jayne stared after him. He was coming back! She was going to get a second chance!

  So what was she going to do with it?

  CHAPTER TWO

  JAYNE might as well have stayed at home for all the work she accomplished the next day. What happened to competence? Disgusted with herself, she thumbed through the reports left over from yesterday and sighed. Garrett Charles was haunting her every waking moment and most of her sleeping ones as well.

  Over and over, she relived the embarrassing moments from last night. She’d stared at him, attacked him with the book cart and then lectured on who knows what. Her only hope was that since she’d taught the class so many times, her brain could coast for a while. She hoped it was coasting in familiar waters.

  Then there was the strange, unsettled feeling she’d had lately. She probably needed a vacation. That was it. Maybe she could talk Sylvia into one of those four-day cruises that left from the Port of Houston. At the prospect, Jayne immediately felt brighter.

  That was it. She just needed a vacation. Her life had become drab and predictable and her reaction to Garrett was nature’s way of telling her that her social life needed attention. A lot of attention. Her mother had always told her she was going to be a late bloomer. Well, twenty-eight was late and Jayne must be blooming.

  On Thursday, class day, Jayne stood indecisively in front of her closet. What to wear, what to wear.

  Her sartorial decisions usually consisted of which version of a navy-blue suit she would wear. Solid? Midnight-navy? Royal-blue navy? Pin-striped? Glenplaid ? White blouse or pale blue? Blue on red tie or red on blue? She’d always been pleased with her professional wardrobe. Now it all looked too...too something. Predictable? Staid? Stuffy? All of the above?

  There was always her beige suit, which she wore in the heat of summer, but she felt like a lightweight in it.

  Okay, she’d analyze the situation. She wanted to appear competent to reassure everyone after Tuesday, so she’d wear her most conservative, expensive, darkest suit with a blinding white shirt and a regimental striped women’s ascot at the neck. She’d add height with her highest heeled pumps.

  She set off for work, feeling her old competent self. It was a good feeling and one she wanted to hold on to until her vacation.

  “Hey, Jayne, you look ready to take on the world,” commented Bill Pellman as she passed his cubicle on the way to her office. “Big account on the hne?”

  “No,” Jayne responded with deliberate casualness, “but I do have class to teach tonight.”

  Bill was young, eager and considered Jayne his mentor—a pleasant, sexless mentor who lived for work just as he did. Jayne sighed, thinking there was more truth there than she liked.

  “Any hot prospects?” he asked now.

  She thought of Garrett and her throat went dry. “Not really,” she croaked and fled to her office.

  So much for renewed competence. Just thinking of Garrett made her heart race, so she attempted to figure out her surprising response to him.

  Never in her life had she responded to a man’s physical appearance with such...awareness. Parts of her body, parts that were usually hibernating, had awakened. She wasn’t even sure she was experiencing desire. Desire flourished when there was a chance of being desired in return. Competent, realistic, feetfirmly-on-the-ground Jayne Nelson did not attract the Garrett Charles type of man. Her head knew that, but her body must have short-circuited. That would explain the tingling.

  She was staring off into the distance, chewing on a pen, when Sylvia popped into her office.

  “I’ve got a Schlotz’s Deli two-for-one coupon. You interested?”

  Jayne dropped her pen. “Is it time for lunch already?”

  Sylvia held up her arm, which was decorated with three gaudy watches.

  “Oh. Right.” Jayne pushed back her chair and pulled her purse from the file drawer.

  “Aren’t you going to change your shoes?” Sylvia kicked out a sneaker-clad foot.

  “Shoes?” Jayne blinked.

  “The deli is at the other end of the mall by the movie theater.”

  “Oh. Right. I should change.” Pace Waterman was in the Transco Tower, which was connected by a walkway to Houston’s Galleria mall across the street. Jayne and Sylvia frequently spent their lunch hours hiking through it for exercise.

  Jayne stood staring at the bank of file drawers. Where was Garrett’s business? She hadn’t thought to ask. What if he opened the agency right in the mall? She might see him all the time now. She sighed.

  Sylvia came into the room, gently opened the supply cabinet and removed Jayne’s walking shoes. “What’s up, Jayne?”

  “Nothing.” Jayne slipped out of her pumps and worked her feet into the sneakers. She felt her face grow warm, so she bent to tie the shoes, hoping any evidence of a blush might be hidden.

  “You’re acting just like you did the other night Are you feeling okay? Have you got an audit or something this afternoon?”

  “I’m fine!”

  “Then...Jayne?” Sylvia nudged her arm. “Have you met somebody?” she asked in a tone that meant “Have you met a man?”

  “No!” Jayne responded too quickly and too loudly. She could tell by the triumphant smirk on Sylvia’s face. Drat. Now Sylvia would worm everything out of her. Sylvia could worm anything out of anybody. She was wasted in secretarial work. Her true calling was espionage.

  Jayne crossed her purse over her shoulder bandolier-style and Sylvia linked their arms. “I want you to tell me everything,” she demanded.

  “There’s nothing to tell,” Jayne protested feebly.

  Sylvia patted her arm. “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”

  Sylvia had wormed everything there was to worm by the time they reached the elevator.

  “That’s it?” She snorted in disgust as they exited the elevator and made their way through the crowded foyer toward the walkway.

  “I told you there wasn’t anything to tell,” Jayne pointed out, secretly hoping that Sylvia might put a hopeful spin on the events of Tuesday night. But not even Sylvia could interpret rendering succor after bashing someone in the leg as flirtng.

  “But I didn’t actually believe you.” Sylvia frowned, then shrugged. “No matter. We’ll find you a man yet. In fact...” She cocked her head to one side.

  “No,” Jayne refused automatically. Sylvia was continually trotting out male relatives for J
ayne to date.

  And sure enough... “My second cousin Vincent is going to be in his roommate’s wedding in Galveston. He’ll be staying with my aunt Ida a couple of nights. Why don’t I—”

  “No.” Jayne closed her eyes against the thought of dating Sylvia’s second-tier relatives.

  “Then ask out the man in your class.”

  Jayne swallowed her automatic “no” and mentally tested the idea of asking out Garrett Charles.

  Not possible. “I probably shouldn’t date students.” She walked faster.

  “He’ll only be a student for a few weeks. You’re just too wimpy,” Sylvia scolded, jogging to keep up with her.

  “I know.”

  “Men like assertive women.”

  Jayne shot her an exasperated look. “On what planet?”

  “Uh, Planet Eros?”

  “See? Aliens.”

  “Speaking of, how about I set you up with Vincent?”

  “Sylvia!”

  She shrugged. “You gotta kiss a lot of frogs before you find a prince.”

  “For the last time, I do not want to go out with your alien frog second cousin!”

  However... Jayne stopped abruptly and snagged Sylvia’s arm. They’d reached the end of the mall walkway and were standing right by the travel agency they’d walked past on a hundred other lunch hours.

  “What? What?”

  Jayne pointed to a bright poster advertising fun in the Gulf of Mexico. “I think I need a vacation. Or a change in my life. A vacation would be a change in my life.” She turned to the gaping Sylvia. “I was thinking we could book one of those four-day cruises. They’re not very expen—”

  “Yes!” Sylvia had recovered from her astonishment and was pushing Jayne through the double glass doors and straight over to the brochure display. “This is the best idea you’ve ever had!” She started taking two of every brochure with a ship pictured on it, handing one to Jayne as she babbled.

  “When do you want to leave? Can we wait until I lose five pounds? What if we save up and go for a seven-day cruise? We’ll have to watch which line we pick.” She stopped gabbing long enough to flip through one of the brochures. “There are even singles cruises. We should go on one of those to increase the odds. Okay. I think we’ve got one of each.” She smiled brightly at Jayne. “Let’s go eat.”