The Boss and the Plain Jayne Bride

by Heather MacAllister

Garrett nodded and picked up the phone.

  During the next week, Jayne sometimes thought she was a miracle worker.

  The payroll had been met only because Sasha and Sandor had foolishly, but fortunately, kept obscene balances in their checking accounts. Garrett’s parents had “responsibly” stashed their earnings with George Windom, who presumably still had them.

  After the payroll hurdle had been passed, Jayne had spent an idyllic weekend holed up in the office with Garrett going over the books in order to complete the audit. The going over the books part wasn’t idyllic, but being with Garrett was. They sat side by side, arm to arm, calculator to calculator.

  Numbers and Garrett—could it get any better?

  He brought her food, more healthy grilled and steamed stuff, but she appreciated the thought. He even insisted that she take breaks and walked around the shops in the Pavilion courtyard with her. She expected a tour of the designer boutiques with a critique of the clothes in the windows, but the only window Garrett stopped in front of was the skiing display of a sporting goods store.

  “Do you ski?” he asked.

  Jayne instantly visualized herself in front of a cozy lodge fire with Garrett, but in truth hadn’t been nearer to a snowflake than the instantly melting bits that occasionally tantalized Houston. “No,” she said. “I’m more of a cruise person.” Not that she and Sylvia had made any progress with their vacation plans.

  “You ought to give skiing a try.” He smiled down at her. “You’d like it.”

  There wasn’t a hint of an invitation in his voice, and truthfully, Jayne hadn’t expected one.

  But a girl could dream, couldn’t she?

  The first time they went walking, she pretended that she and Garrett were an ordinary couple out for an afternoon, but every female they encountered underscored just how unordinary Garrett was.

  Women stared. They weren’t even subtle about it. Garrett didn’t seem to notice, but Jayne did. She also noticed the curious glances she drew. The women were wondering what a mousy brown accountant was doing with Garrett.

  Jayne didn’t like taking breaks. They spoiled her fantasy. It was worse even than being at the agency during office hours, and that in itself was pretty hard on her feminine ego.

  Nevertheless, Jayne, with Mr. Waterman’s blessing, had spent the first part of this week at the agency with Garrett devising a strategy for rebuilding the company. It was a solid, conservative plan that depended on a little luck. And a lot of luck wouldn’t be amiss, she thought carrying a stack of binders over to her coffee table.

  Garrett had called the rest of the Charles family for a meeting. In Jayne’s office. Today. They’d flown in from New York last night probably expecting a miracle. Jayne hoped to give them one.

  “You mean there are more like him?” Sylvia peeled the paper cup away from her apple muffin and dug at a walnut.

  “The whole family models.”

  “Wow.”

  Jayne scooped the ashtray out of Sylvia’s reach. “Could you take your walnuts with you?”

  Sylvia had been in the process of dropping the walnut and it now bounced on Jayne’s coffee table. She gave Jayne a look.

  “I’m going to have people in here, Sylvia. Models. I don’t want pieces of walnuts in the ashtray.”

  “So I’ll dump them in the trash.”

  “No!”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t want food smell in my office. Garrett’s family is probably hungry all the time and it might distract them. I need them to concentrate.”

  “Ooookay.” Sylvia made a point of dropping the walnut pieces one by one into the white paper bag from the bakery.

  Actually, Jayne was afraid of being distracted, herself. She’d given up her ten o’clock doughnut after being at Garrett’s agency and her body was still adjusting—she hoped by shrinking. However, yesterday, she’d caught herself actually thinking about eating Sylvia’s walnut pieces out of the ashtray. She unwrapped a stick of gum and chewed hard.

  Gum just wasn’t the same as a chocolate doughnut

  Jayne fussed around her office, arranging and rearranging the Pace Waterman binders into which she’d put a complete financial analysis of the books, the disposition of the funds prior to George Windom’s departure and the unfortunate disposition of funds after his departure. She had illustrated them with colorful graphs. She’d obsessed with borders and fonts, trying to make the unpalatable more palatable. All in all, she’d spent untold hours preparing for this meeting—untold, because she wasn’t about to report the actual number to Mr. Waterman and have him bill Garrett after it was Jayne’s idea to try to salvage Venus, Inc.

  Her weekends and evenings were her own, or should be, anyway. If she wanted to devote them to Garrett, then she would. And she had.

  “I thought the fan shape looked nice,” Sylvia commented and brushed her hands together, scattering crumbs.

  “Sylvia!” Jayne swiped at the chair cushions.

  “Jayne... can I meet them?”

  “This isn’t a social occasion.” Due to client confidentiality, Jayne hadn’t told Sylvia anything about Garrett’s situation. Sylvia was of the opinion that client confidentiality didn’t extend to her, but Jayne wouldn’t budge and Sylvia was still miffed.

  “I figured that, but...couldn’t I take a coffee order?”

  Jayne studied Sylvia, remembering how she’d acted when she’d previously met Garrett. “The receptionist will bring in a tray with a thermal pot.”

  “I could do that,” Sylvia said brightly.

  “I don’t think so.” Jayne rearranged the binders in a fan shape so she could avoid looking at Sylvia.

  But she could feel Sylvia looking at her.

  “I thought we were friends.”

  “We are.” Now Jayne looked at her. “But they’re new clients and you don’t even work here.”

  Sylvia stood. “You’re afraid that Garrett will pay attention to me, aren’t you?”

  No, I’m afraid you’ll pay attention to Garrett. “Some other time.”

  “Right, like there’ll be another time.” Bracelets jangling, Sylvia flounced out of Jayne’s office.

  Jayne felt guilty until she noticed the white paper bag with the walnuts in it that Sylvia had left behind. She grabbed it and was trying to find a trash can outside her office when she heard voices coming from Mr. Waterman’s end of the hall. That had to be Garrett and his family.

  Still carrying the bakery bag, Jayne scurried back into her office, stuffed it into her own trash and stood by the desk. No, that looked too awkward. She sat on the couch next to the binders.

  Now she looked as if she didn’t have anything to do. She should look busy and important and valued to inspire confidence in Garrett’s family. She sat behind her desk, which was in an abnormally pristine state. No files, no papers. She needed props. Reaching into her drawer, Jayne withdrew the first thing her hand touched just as Mr. Waterman appeared in her doorway.

  “Jayne?”

  “Just finishing up this...” She looked down and was horrified to find she was holding the cruise brochure. Yanking open her pencil drawer, she tried to stuff the brochure out of sight, but it didn’t fit in the narrow drawer. She ended up letting it slither to the floor as she stood and prepared to meet Garrett’s family.

  Garrett herded his family into Jayne’s office. He’d suggested coming to her office rather than meeting at the agency because he’d wanted them to understand the gravity of their situation. Too, he thought Jayne would be more comfortable on her own turf.

  Garrett caught her eye and gave her a quick smile as his family drifted around him. After working with her the past several days, his confidence in her abilities was unshakable. He didn’t know how she’d done it, but she made him feel as if their strategy was as much his as it was hers. He guessed that “make the client have an emotional stake in the solution” was a device she’d learned in business psychology, but he didn’t care. It worked.

  During th
eir long hours together, Garrett had caught himself wondering about Jayne, the woman, as much as Jayne, the accountant. She never mentioned a boyfriend, either past or present, so he assumed she was currently not dating. It would be difficult to have much of a social life with the kind of hours she worked.

  He looked forward to their sessions because afterward, he felt revitalized. He’d considered seeing her after hours, except they’d been working so hard, there weren’t any after hours. Maybe now that the bulk of the planning had been done, he’d take her to dinner. She certainly deserved a night out on the town.

  Garrett was ready to get the meeting under way. His parents were chatting with Mr. Waterman about some place in France and the twins were sulking because they’d rather be hanging out in the designer boutiques in Pavilion. Both wore the pout they’d perfected. Since this was their trademark look, Garrett hoped Jayne couldn’t tell that this pout was the genuine thing.

  They slouched over to the couch and draped themselves against it, Sasha on the arm and Sandor next to her. It was their party pose.

  Jayne remained behind her desk, mutely staring at them. Garrett wasn’t surprised. Although they could look quite different if they chose, particularly when Sasha pulled her hair back and wore dramatic makeup, today they were emphasizing their “twinness.” Dressed alike in white tunics and pants, and both with the same chin-length hair, they made a striking picture.

  His entire family made a striking picture, which was fortunate given their current financial state.

  Garrett had never been quite as striking. His features weren’t as angular, he wasn’t as tall and he didn’t get the high-fashion jobs the way they did. He was more the Father’s Day, sportsmen’s catalog type, which was fine with him. But if he’d been seriously pursuing a modeling career, he’d have been fiustrated. Whenever he was with his parents and the twins, people overlooked him, which didn’t bother him, except today, with Jayne here.

  He didn’t want Jayne to meet Sandor. He didn’t want to see her caught by the legendary appeal of his younger brother, but judging from the wide-eyed blank look on her face, Sandor had eclipsed him once again. He only hoped Jayne didn’t drop something or hurt herself when she met him.

  “Garrett, I’ll let you introduce everyone to Jayne,” Mr. Waterman said, and left them alone as Garrett had asked.

  Everyone looked at the woman still standing behind the desk. Garrett’s heart sank. It was worse than he’d thought. She couldn’t even move.

  Fine. He’d bring everyone to her. Gesturing for his brother and sister to join him, he approached her. “Jayne, these are my parents, James and Rebecca Charles.”

  Jayne managed a smile and shook their hands. So far, nothing had been knocked over. But she still had to meet Sandor.

  “My sister, Sasha...”

  Sasha nodded at her.

  “...and my brother, Sandor.”

  Sandor gave her one of his heavy-lidded looks. When Jayne held out her hand, he took it in both of his.

  Very few women could resist Sandor when he set out to captivate them, either from the printed page, or in person. There was nothing Garrett could do, except edge closer to the filing basket and pencil holder on Jayne’s desk, ready to catch them when she knocked them over. He glanced behind her to make sure her chair was in place in case her knees gave out.

  But Jayne gave Sandor a perfunctory smile and, if Garrett wasn’t mistaken, pulled her hand away. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

  “Thank you all for coming,” she said, and gestured to the sofa without hitting anything or anyone. “If you’ll take a seat around the coffee table, I’ve put binders there for each of you.”

  Jayne immune to Sandor? As his family pivoted toward the coffee table, Garrett watched her, but she wasn’t looking at Sandor and she didn’t knock anything over, not even when she reached for a pen and the folder from her desk. Then she met his eyes.

  Inordinately pleased, he widened his smile.

  And Jayne dropped her pen.

  She was numb. She wasn’t even sure she could hold on to her pen.

  So these intimidatingly sophisticated, polished, elegant, glamorous people were Garrett’s family. They were tall. Garrett was tall, but these people were tall tall.

  They were also thin and had cheekbones so high, the makeup artist probably used a ladder. The clothes they wore looked deceptively simple—no doubt designer originals.

  In her navy-blue suit, Jayne felt frumpy, lumpy and short. She wondered if she could make her presentation from behind her desk so they wouldn’t see her hips.

  No, of course, not. She snuck a glance at Garrett, to find him watching her intently.

  “I told them that George had stolen the agency assets and that the police haven’t got any leads,” he said.

  “How are they taking it?”

  He looked over toward the sofa. “It hasn’t affected them yet.”

  “I suppose it’s going to take a while to sink in.”

  “No, I mean it hasn’t made any difference in the way they live, so they’re not concerned.” He looked back at her. “They’ve still got the apartment in New York and the house here in Houston. They can buy what they want—”

  “Not for long!”

  Garrett drew a breath. “Convincing them of that will be your biggest challenge.” He smiled encouragingly and touched her lightly on the shoulder. “But I know you can do it.”

  In the face of such confidence, Jayne nearly melted.

  Okay. It was time. Holding the folder in front of her hips, Jayne approached the group sitting around her coffee table as Garrett pulled her desk chair over for her.

  Yes, sitting would be best. She smiled her thanks and Garrett went over and took his place next to his father’s chair.

  Jayne’s gaze swept the group. No one had made a move to look at the binders. That surprised her. Weren’t they curious about their financial state?

  Garrett was right. His family was in deep denial. Understandable, but it meant that she’d still have to get past all the protests and the are-you-sure-youhaven’ t-made-a-mistake comments.

  She’d never liked the awkwardness of people coming to terms with financial shocks.

  Maybe she should stand after all, hips or no hips. “If everyone will take a binder, we’ll get started.”

  The twins each took a binder, opened it, flipped through a few pages, checked each other’s, shrugged, then closed the binders and put them back on the table.

  Jayne was fascinated. It looked like they’d choreographed their movements.

  Garrett’s father had his binder open on his lap and had propped a finger against his cheek, looking as if he was posing as a silver-haired executive.

  Rebecca Charles smoothed the silky legs of her pantsuit before carefully setting the binder on her nearly nonexistent thighs. She didn’t open it.

  Fine. Jayne would spoon-feed information to them. “Garrett came to me when he noticed irregularities in the Venus accounts after your business manager resigned.”

  “That was clever of you, Garrett,” his mother said, smiling without crinkling her eyes. “I’ve always said that you were the clever one.”

  “Yes, that’s what you’ve said.” There was a faint impatience in Garrett’s voice.

  Here came the tricky part. “In addition, Mr. Windom withdrew almost all your liquid assets, including those held in escrow. I conducted an audit of the books and found that, in my opinion, the financial statements do not fairly represent the company’s actual financial situation.” Jayne waited for them to absorb the information. She’d used the technical legal language that basically called George Windom a liar.

  Four pairs of pale blue eyes blinked at her, then looked at Garrett.

  He straightened. “She’s telling you that George stole all our money. Checking, savings, he cleaned out the agency, then tried to cover it up. When he couldn’t, he left.”

  “You told us that already,” James Charles said.

 
“And you said that the police were looking for him.” Rebecca Charles sounded as though she thought the money would be recovered at any moment.

  “They are, but Jayne is just making sure you understand that, of this moment, the accounts are empty.”

  “That’s why I had to transfer money to you,” Sasha said with a let’s-get-on-with-it gesture. “So what are we doing here?”

  “Yeah, you said it was a loan,” Sandor added.

  “Exactly,” Jayne said. “Copies of the affidavit stating that you and Sasha lent money to Venus are in the binder, and I’ve worked out a repayment schedule. The loan met the agency’s immediate obligations. In the meantime, Garrett and I have worked out a business plan to keep your company going until the funds are recovered. And I must stress that there is the possibility that they won’t be.”

  “No kiddin’. If I’d stolen a wad of cash like that, I sure wouldn’t sit on it. It would be par-toy all day!” Sandor wagged his index fingers from side to side.

  Sasha laughed her agreement.

  Mr. Charles closed the binder and returned it to the coffee table. “Whatever you and Garrett have decided is fine with us.”

  “Go to it, bro!” Sasha jumped up and tugged at Sandor’s arm. “Let’s go have a sea salt scrub at Urban Retreat.”

  “Wait!” Jayne protested with a helpless look at Garrett. “I haven’t started yet.”

  “Sash, Sandy, go sit down.” Garrett intercepted his brother and sister and turned them back to the sofa.

  Jayne realized she was going to have to be very blunt and very basic. These people didn’t have a clue.

  “On pages eight through thirteen, you’ll find a monthly breakdown of the agency’s operating expenses during the last quarter with the income on the facing page. Included in the totals is income from the assets Mr. Windom has withdrawn. They are printed in red ink. On pages fourteen and fifteen, you’ll find a revised monthly statement without the income from those assets. Should your expenses keep increasing at the average rate they have been over the past—”

  Jayne was interrupted by a knock. Judging by the glassy expressions on the Charleses’ faces, this wasn’t a bad thing.