There was a silence. Jayne had been staring blankly. Now her eyes focused on the landscape above the credenza and she realized she hated a man she’d never met.
“I can’t back out of the sponsorship now,” Garrett insisted. “Think how that will look.”
“Think how it will look when you can’t pay your rent.”
“You know...that might be better.”
“Garrett—”
“Jayne, we’re trying to establish ourselves as a major agency. Pulling out a week before the event will give us a reputation for unreliability at the very least. Gossip and rumor will do us in. But if we’re late on the rent, the landlord isn’t likely to call the wire services.”
“Garrett—”
“Cut me a check for the hotel catering, the florist and the printer.”
“Garrett, as your accountant, I must strongly advise against—”
“Don’t argue with me. Do it.”
He’d never spoken as harshly before, not even when they’d discovered George Windom’s betrayal. To speak that way to her, after all she’d done, was more than Jayne could bear.
“I’ll have the checks sent over by courier, since we’re throwing money around.”
“Fine.” And with that clipped word, he hung up the telephone.
Tears blurred Jayne’s vision. The colors of the painting, already fuzzy, smeared even more. She hated that painting and she wasn’t going to look at it anymore. It was terrible enough that George had taken their money, but to leave the painting to mock them, when they couldn’t sell it without court approval, was incredibly cruel. Jayne stalked over to it. The frame was big and probably heavy. But she’d been working out. Her new muscles ought to be good for something. Reaching up, Jayne braced herself and carefully lifted the frame above the hanger in the wall, pulled the painting out a little bit, then lowered it to the floor.
Breathing a sigh of relief that she hadn’t dropped it, she turned the picture toward the wall. Taped on the back was an envelope with Garrett’s name on it. Jayne blinked back the traces of tears and stared at the envelope. Garrett couldn’t have known that it was there. With fingers that shook a little, Jayne carefully peeled it away from the brown paper backing. She’d stared at enough of his handwriting to recognize the precise penmanship as George Windom’s.
Desperately hoping the envelope contained good news, Jayne called the hotel and had Garrett paged, leaving her name with instructions to tell him it was urgent. After an eternity, she heard a familiar cheery voice. “Hey, Jayne!”
“Sylvia?”
“Yeah, it’s me. Garrett can’t talk to you right now, so I volunteered to get the message.”
“Tell him it’s really important that I speak with him.”
“Jayne...he’s right in the middle of some stuff.”
Jayne closed her eyes and took two deep breaths. “Sylvia, shouldn’t you be at work?”
“I’m meeting Sandor for lunch. What do you want me to tell Garrett?”
Jayne swallowed all the satisfying messages she could leave. “Nothing. Have fun at lunch.” After she hung up the phone, she grabbed her purse and the envelope and headed to the Galleria Hotel.
Jayne found Garrett standing in a ballroom with a knot of very vocal people, among them his parents and sister. Everywhere she looked were racks of clothes, mannequins, tissue paper, plastic bags, the glitter of fallen sequins and pins. She also saw steamers and irons wielded with intense concentration by young men and women.
“I don’t care for informal modeling,” Rebecca Charles was saying amidst all the hubbub. “The runway is the very essence of traditional fashion shows. These contestants will expect it. How many tables you can sell if you don’t have a runway shouldn’t be an issue.”
“I’d say not losing money is an issue!” a woman in beige linen insisted. “Besides, it isn’t fair to these young designers for potential buyers not to be able to see their clothes up close. And that is the whole idea behind the modeling contest.”
“I thought the idea was to discover new faces.”
“Let’s compromise here,” Garrett said, sounding weary. “We’ll have an abbreviated runway with steps at the end and the models can follow a circuit between the tables.”
“It’ll take forever for them to finish and change,” Rebecca claimed. “We’ve got to keep the pace moving.”
“We’re not talking experienced supermodels here. They’re going to be slow anyway,” the woman maintained.
“That’s why I don’t think they should be wandering among the tables. Besides, if you plan to sell as many tables as you say you will, there won’t be room.”
Garrett picked that moment to shake his head and saw Jayne standing near the entrance. His face creased in a quick smile, which faded as he obviously recalled how they’d ended their last phone conversation. Jayne tried to stay angry at him, but couldn’t. She answered his smile, then beckoned to him. He glanced toward his mother and the other woman who were still arguing about the runway, then quickly strode over to her.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier,” he said, taking her elbow and ushering her out into the relative quiet of the reception area. “They’re selecting the clothes that will be modeled next Saturday and it’s been hectic with all the designers here. Forgive me?”
She would have forgiven him even without the smile. “That’s okay. I know you’re under a lot of pressure.”
“But I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. You were just doing the job I’d hired you to do. Remind me that I owe you a night out on the town when this is all over.”
Owe. She didn’t want him going out with her because he owed her. She’d thought that he...felt something for her. Yeah, gratitude.
“Did you bring the checks?” he asked.
Jayne grimaced. “I forgot! But here.” She pulled the letter out of her purse. “I found this taped to the back of the painting in my office.” She hoped he wouldn’t ask how she’d made the discovery.
“It’s from George,” Garrett said as soon as he saw the envelope. Ripping it open, he pulled out a packet of papers and a single white sheet. Jayne watched his eyes as he scanned the writing, then silently handed the paper to her.
Garrett, sell the painting. I’m leaving you the certificate of ownership papers and a list of collectors who’ve expressed an interest. I’m sorry. G. E. W.
Jayne could tell the note had been written in haste, yet he’d added an apology. The apology went a long way toward redeeming George in her eyes and probably Garrett’s as well. That and the fact that Garrett was now free to sell the painting.
“Is it worth very much?” she asked him.
Garrett had been studying the papers. “Enough to solve our immediate financial difficuities if one of these gentlemen buys it.” He exhaled and closed his eyes. “I can’t believe it. We’re actually going to pull this off.” He grinned down at her.
Jayne was so happy and so relieved for him, that her smile was as wide as his. Their gazes caught and held. His expression changed and his eyes turned dark and smoky. He’s going to kiss me. I know it’s because he’s relieved and happy and I just happen to be here, but I’m going to let him kiss me anyway. Jayne’s heart picked up speed as he took a step closer.
“Jayne.” Lifting his hand, he cupped her cheek, sending prickles of awareness down her neck, then bent his head.
“Garrett, there you are!” Rebecca Charles’s voice rang through the reception area. “Will you please inform Magda that we are having a bridal gown to close the show?”
With an expression of regret, Garrett dropped his hand away. Her disappointment was so keen, Jayne knew she’d need a few moments to recover.
“We can’t possibly have a bridal gown.” The woman in beige had followed Garrett’s mother into the reception area.
“But everyone loves a bridal gown! Sasha, bring that one over here.” Rebecca beckoned to Garrett’s sister, who was nearly hidden by a pouf of sparkling tulle.
�
��Of course everyone loves a bridal gown. That’s why we can’t use one.” Magda said. “The model who wears it will have an unfair advantage over the other girls.”
Garrett’s mother fussed with the dress, then looked at Garrett, her eyebrow arched. “La la la-laaaa,” Sasha sang and took a couple of slow, exaggerated steps. She twinkled with every movement. All she lacked was a crown and a magic wand and she could have been a fairy princess.
“She’s right, Mom,” Garrett said. “We’ve got to be fair.”
“But this dress is a showstopper. Imagine the lights on all these crystals. This is every little girl’s dream dress and isn’t this contest all about dreams?”
Magda put a hand to her temple and gave an exaggerated sigh. “Oh, Rebecca.”
“Oh, Magda,” Garrett’s mother mocked.
Jayne stared at the fantastic dress. Even though Sasha wasn’t moving, the dress, with its constant twinkling, looked as if it was. She moved closer to see how the crystals were attached.
“It’s something else, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Jayne agreed simply, lifting one of what looked like twenty layers.
“Weighs a ton, too.”
“So why isn’t it all flat?”
“The top layer is like a loose net and each layer under it has smaller holes so the crystals show through and it stays puffy.”
It was the three-dimensional effect that made the dress so unusual.
“You know, if this had been made by a name designer, it would cost a fortune, but I sure wouldn’t want to wear it in the show.”
Jayne looked up sharply. “Why not?”
“This is a modeling contest,” Sasha said. “Everybody would be looking at the dress instead of at me.”
“You see?” Magda gestured in triumph. “Even your own daughter admits that it wouldn’t be a good idea to model this dress.”
“Look at this work.” Rebecca grabbed a handful of tulle and crystal. “This is Diego’s second year to show for the Fashion Council and it will be his last because by this time next year, he will be too famous for you. Do you really want to be known for not recognizing the hottest young designer to come out of Houston in years?”
Magda gave her a sharp look and stared at the dress. “You have a point. Sasha, if you weren’t a professional, I’d ask you to wear it.”
“It’s too short for me anyway.” She looked up and met Jayne’s eyes. “Let Jayne wear it.”
“Me?”
“Who?” Magda asked.
“Jayne, our business manager.” Rebecca swept an assessing glance over her before taking the dress from Sasha and holding it up next to Jayne. “The length is right for you.”
“Diego must have been making this dress for someone of her height,” Magda said.
“What do you say, Garrett? Acceptable compromise?”
“It’s up to Jayne.” He regarded her with a slight smile.
They thought she could actually model? Jayne was almost dizzy with happiness—or hunger. “I’d love to!”
But even Jayne’s newly svelte figure was a tight squeeze for the bridal gown. The bodice was fitted and the zipper barely closed. She caught Diego’s concerned look in the mirror, but he said nothing. Jayne knew why—he wanted his dress shown, even if the model burst out of it. Well, this model wouldn’t burst. This model wasn’t going to eat until after Saturday. Besides, she had a painting to sell.
“I’m sorry to stick that with you,” Garrett had said after she’d tried on the bridal gown and he was walking her through the hotel lobby.
“I’ll have it appraised, then find a dealer. You’ll be out the commission, though.”
“Don’t worry about it. If we had more time, then maybe we could learn how to sell it ourselves. Right now, I’ll be happy if we get what we paid for it.” They reached the lobby doors. Garrett shoved his hands into his pockets, something he rarely did. “And, look, Jayne, about this wedding dress...don’t let them bully you into getting involved with this craziness. You’ve got plenty to do at the agency.”
Jayne had been digging in her purse for her car keys and looked up to find his expression serious. “They didn’t bully me.”
“You weren’t exactly in a position to say ‘no’ gracefully.”
“It’s fine. I want to do it.”
“Fashion shows aren’t like you think they’ll be. Everyone will be staring at you.”
“They’ll be staring at the dress.”
“And you’ll be in the dress. I’ve seen models get stage fright before. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
“Garrett, there’ll be a rehearsal. Don’t worry about me.” She smiled and he made an attempt to answer it, but didn’t quite succeed.
“Just remember that you can quit at any time.”
“Okay.”
Now he did smile. “How about dinner tonight?”
“Are you kidding?” Jayne laughed. “I can’t eat. That dress was a little too snug. I’m hitting the gym for an extra half hour on the treadmill, then having a lettuce leaf and bouillon for dinner.”
It was only after she was on the treadmill that Jayne realized that Garrett had been trying to discourage her from modeling the bridal gown. Didn’t he think she could? He thought Sylvia could. And if Sylvia could, she could. Jayne adjusted the resistance on the treadmill and decided to skip dinner.
“I told you I would handle the sale of the painting, and I have. I found a dealer who agreed to cut her commission, since we gave her the names of potential buyers. She contacted them, and as we speak, there is a discreet bidding war going on. You may even come out of this with a profit.”
Garrett stared at the brittle face across the desk. Something was wrong and had been wrong for several days. Since Jayne had agreed to model the bridal gown, in fact. The emotional closeness between them was gone and he didn’t know why. He only knew he wanted it back. “I am busy and so are you,” he said. “But not so busy I can’t be informed of the agency’s financial business.”
“It isn’t necessary to keep tabs on me. I’m not George Windom.”
If he hadn’t known something was wrong before, then he would have known it after that crack. That wasn’t like Jayne. “You know I trust you. Is something wrong?” he asked after a moment.
“No, nothing.”
His gaze swept over her face and white-knuckled hands, which clasped a pen, taking in the grayish circles under her eyes and her attempts to camouflage them with makeup. Her lips, carefully lined and filled in with color, were pressed tightly together. She was a poster girl for stress.
“You need a break,” he decided. “I’m taking you out to Nicky V’s tonight.” He smiled coaxingly. “Wear your black suit?”
She stared at him and when she spoke her voice was flat. “The black suit is too big for me now.” Garrett felt a pang. He had fond memories of that suit. Reaching across the desk, he covered her clenched hands with his. “Jayne, I know you’ve lost weight. You’ve been working too hard. This agency should be my worry, not yours.”
“But you don’t have to worry. I’m taking care of the financial side so you can concentrate on the contest.”
“But running back and forth between here and the hotel is obviously too much for you.”
Her eyes widened and there was a slight tremble in the clenched hands beneath his before she pulled them away. “Why do you say that?”
Slowly Garrett straightened. “You’re stressed out and you aren’t yourself.”
“I’m hungry.”
“Then let’s go to lunch.” Garrett glanced at his watch, surprised to note that it was only ten o’clock.
“No! It’s hard enough to lose weight without you dragging me off to Italian restaurants.”
Garrett was seriously alarmed. “Jayne, you don’t need to lose weight.”
“How else do you expect me to get into that bridal gown?” she cried, her face contorted.
He’d known something like this was bound to happen. As soon as
his sister had suggested Jayne model that gown, he’d had a premonition of disaster. The sweetly passionate Jayne he’d known was gone. He’d watched her studying the modeling contestants day after day, undoubtedly comparing herself. He’d seen her hands tremble when she reached for a water glass, had seen her sway and grab for the nearest table or chair. Watched her try to turn herself into his sister or his mother. He hated this business.
“I don’t expect you to get into the bridal gown and in fact, I wish you wouldn’t. You’re killing yourself for no good reason.” He stood and pointed to the computer. “In fact, with the shape you’re in, it wouldn’t surprise me to find that your work is full of mistakes. Tired and hungry people make mistakes, Jayne. Am I going to have to hire an accountant to go over your work?”
“M-my work is fine.”
He’d shaken her. Good. She needed shaking.
“Is it? I’m not sure.” He drew a deep breath. “Tell them you’ve changed your mind about wearing the dress, then take the rest of today off. Go home, rest and eat something.”
She stared at him, then shook her head. Sighing, he rested his knuckles on her desk, then pushed away. “I wish you’d never agreed to wear that stupid dress!”
He couldn’t seriously believe that she’d back out only two days before the contest! Not after she’d come this far. Besides, the rehearsal was tomorrow. Once he saw her in the dress, he’d change his mind. He’d see that she wasn’t a Plain Jane any longer. And, maybe, the next time he asked her to dinner, it would be because he thought she was a desirable woman and not a drab accountant he “owed.”
“Jayne, I can’t believe we’re actually here.” Sylvia squeezed her hand in the dressing room.
“I know. Good luck today, Sylvia.”
Jayne was helping her set up the area where she would change into the outfits she was modeling. Last night had taught everyone the importance of having everything ready to throw on, because there wasn’t as much time to change as the models expected.
The Boss and the Plain Jayne Bride Page 14
