by Patricia Kay
Marcus looked over at Vanessa. She shrugged as if to say this was his problem, not hers. “Excuse me, but I need to make a phone call,” she said. Then, sweetly, “Thank you for the lovely lunch today, Marcus.”
When she’d left the room, Laurette said, “Are you going to tell me what this is about or not, Marcus?” She sat in the chair Vanessa had vacated and Cleo, tail wagging, got up and nuzzled her leg. Absently, Laurette scratched behind the dog’s ears.
“It’s nothing, really.” Marcus reached for his briefcase and jacket.
“Honestly, Marcus, sometimes you two drive me crazy.”
Marcus almost laughed. They drove her crazy? Every single person in his family drove him crazy. Some days he was sure he’d lose his mind. “Where’s Tad today?” he said, to change the subject.
“He had an interview this afternoon.” Laurette smiled, obviously pleased to be able to relay positive news to Marcus.
“Oh? Where?”
“I believe he was going to that new tech company. The one that just opened on Rydell Road.”
At least Tad was making an effort. “Good.”
“Yes, he was very pleased to have gotten the interview. All on his own, too.”
This last, Marcus knew, was a dig at him, even though his mother knew full well why he refused to set up any more interviews for Tad after the last fiasco. If Tad found a job, it would have to be through his own efforts. “I hope it went well. Is he going to be here for dinner?”
She looked at her watch. “I believe so.”
Saying he would see her at dinner, too, he also excused himself and headed to the other wing and his own quarters. He changed his clothes, fixed himself a drink and turned on the news. But he couldn’t relax or concentrate. He couldn’t get the argument with Vanessa, and the meeting with Joanna that had provoked it, out of his mind.
After mulling everything over again, he decided he wanted to see this outfit Vanessa would be modeling. He guessed, if it was as beautiful as the designs he’d already seen, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have Vanessa modeling it this one time.
In addition, he wanted to see all the designs Joanna had ready for the show, as well as the ones she was still working on. Maybe she had exaggerated her progress. Not that he thought she had, but still, he needed to be sure.
He would call her.
In fact, he would call her right now.
He ignored the little voice in the back of his mind that said he had wanted a reason to call her and this one was perfect.
Reaching for his cell, he scrolled through his contacts and found Joanna’s number. She sounded a bit breathless when she answered.
“Did I get you at a bad time?” he asked.
“No, no, not at all. I’m just coming back from getting the mail. Hold on a minute. Let me unlock the door.” A few minutes later she said, “Okay, I’m back in my place now.”
“I won’t keep you long. I just finished talking to Vanessa and she says she was very impressed with your work. That’s what prompted this call, in fact. I’d like to see what you’ve got ready for the show, too.”
“Oh, yes, of course. All you’ve seen are photos. Um, when would you like to come?”
“I was thinking about tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry, but I have to work tomorrow.”
“What about tomorrow evening? Unless you have plans?”
“Um, no, no plans. Okay, tomorrow would be fine. What time do you want to come?”
“What time is good for you?”
“Six o’clock?”
“That’s perfect. I’ll head over straight from my office.”
“All right. I’ll tell the security guard to expect you. Um, the best place to park is around the corner. There’s a garage.”
“Okay, thanks. And, Joanna...”
“Yes?”
“Since I’ll be interrupting the dinner hour, it’s only fair that I feed you afterward.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know I don’t have to, but I’d like to.”
“Well, if you put it that way...that would be nice. There are some good places within walking distance. Do you like Italian?”
“One of my favorites.”
He was smiling as he disconnected the call.
* * *
On Friday morning, when Joanna arrived at the office, Chick was already there. She did a double take. Chick never showed up at the office before her. He was a notorious night owl and hardly ever crawled out of bed before nine.
He ostentatiously looked at his watch. Joanna bit back a smile. She wasn’t late. In fact, she was early. It was only seven-fifty. Too bad, she thought. She knew he was still royally ticked off about her quitting and would have enjoyed any reason to find fault with her work.
“My, my,” she said. “This is a red-letter day. You haven’t shown up this early in years.”
Ignoring that, Chick said, “I have someone coming in at eight-fifteen for an interview.”
“Oh?” The agency they were using hadn’t notified Joanna.
“The agency called yesterday while you were off.” Chick said the word off as if Joanna should have been at work instead.
Joanna decided she would get on with her morning. If Chick wanted to elaborate, he would. If not, who cared? She only had one more week to work. After that, it didn’t matter to her what he did or who he did it with. For that matter, she didn’t care who he hired, either. Good luck to him finding someone who would work as hard as she had over the past years.
But he seemed determined to tell her about the interviewee whether she wanted to hear about her or not, and he followed Joanna around as she prepared the office for the morning.
“According to the agency, this girl will be available to start on Monday. If I like her, of course.”
“Of course.” Joanna cleaned up the little kitchen—he never left it clean after her day off—which irritated her, yet what could she do about it? She was glad to see the new supply of individual coffee servings had come yesterday while she was gone. They had just about been out and she wasn’t sure if the order would make it on time.
“I’m going to need you to work all five days next week,” he said.
Joanna sighed. She’d been expecting this. “Fine, as long as I get paid overtime for the extra day.”
“Look, I gave you Thursdays off out of the goodness of my heart. The least you can do after leaving me in the lurch like this is work this one last Thursday.”
“You didn’t give me anything. We agreed, up front, that I would take less money if I could have a four-day workweek.” She could have added that she’d done more work in her four days than most people would have been able to accomplish in five or six, but why waste her breath?
“Fine,” he mimicked, “I’ll pay you the extra.” Turning away, he added, “I’ll need you to stay late tonight, too.”
“Sorry. I can’t. I have plans for tonight.”
“You’ll have to cancel them.”
Okay. She’d been reasonable about everything else, but enough was enough. “Excuse me? I don’t have to do anything. I’ve agreed to work an extra day next week, but that’s as far as I’m going.”
“If you want a letter of reference from me, you’ll do what I need you to do. The invoices need to go in the mail today, remember?”
“Number one, I don’t need a letter of reference from you. Number two, when have I ever not gotten the invoices out on time?”
“There’s always a first time,” he said, glaring at her before turning away and heading toward his office.
“Oh, go suck an egg,” she mumbled under her breath.
“What did you say?” he demanded, swinging around.
Joanna had had a bellyful by now and for t
wo cents she’d stop what she was doing, clean out her desk, grab her purse and jacket and good luck to him. But no matter what else she might be, she was her mother’s daughter, and her mother was the one who’d taught her you never burn your bridges. Besides, Chick owed her a week’s vacation pay, which she fully expected to receive along with her last paycheck, and if she walked out on him, she’d never see the money unless she sued him. So Joanna tamped down her indignation and resentment and met Chick’s angry gaze levelly. “I just said I’d better suck it up and get legs.”
He stared at her for a long moment, then stalked into his office and slammed the door.
Joanna put her head in her hands. One more week, she thought. Just one. She could stand anything for a week. Hopefully this woman coming in today would work out and Chick would hire her. Because Joanna couldn’t imagine how miserable next week would be if he hadn’t found someone by the time her notice was over and he was forced to use a temp. Oh, God, it didn’t bear thinking about.
Well, she’d better do all she could to make sure that didn’t happen, which meant getting every last bit of work done so Chick would have nothing to complain about. But it was going to be a horrendous day. Because in addition to making sure all the invoices went out, she had several errant customer orders to track—no easy task—as well as half a dozen new orders to process. Since the new orders would take the least amount of time, she would get those out of the way first.
She was working on the first of the new orders when the outer door opened, and a tall, curvy redhead walked in. Joanna took one look at her and knew if she had even a modicum of expertise, Chick would hire her. She was too gorgeous for him to pass up. Thirty-six C, Joanna figured, looking at her formfitting taupe sweater. Oh, no, Chick wouldn’t let this girl go.
“Hi,” the girl said. “I’m Lonnie McKee. I have an appointment with Mr. Newton.” There was a quaver in her voice.
Joanna smiled at the girl. She wanted to say, Don’t be nervous, you’ve got this job in the bag. “I’ll tell him you’re here,” she said instead. She pressed the intercom button and announced the girl’s arrival.
“Send her in,” Chick said curtly.
Still mad, Joanna thought. What an ass he was. And what an idiot she was for ever falling for his line.
The interview didn’t even last twenty minutes. Joanna had only processed two of the new orders when Chick’s office door opened again and the McKee girl, followed by a smugly smiling Chick, exited his office. Lonnie McKee’s hazel eyes were bright.
“Joanna,” he said, “Miss McKee will be starting work here on Monday, but she’s also agreed to stay for an hour or two today so you can orient her and tell her what to expect.”
Joanna’s heart sank. Her busy day had just gotten impossible. She would have to practically kill herself to get everything done so that she could leave on time. But she didn’t hesitate, just smiled and nodded and said, “Okay. Come and sit down, Miss McKee.”
“Oh, please call me Lonnie.”
“All right, Lonnie.”
For the next thirty minutes, Joanna gave Lonnie as many pointers as she could. She wanted to be honest, to warn Lonnie of the many pitfalls of working for Chick, but she didn’t want to frighten her away. And Joanna had a feeling she could be frightened away, because even though Lonnie had seemed sophisticated when she first walked in, within a few minutes of talking to her, Joanna could see she wasn’t. In fact, Lonnie seemed naive.
She wondered how long it would take Chick to get this girl into his bed. Poor thing, Joanna felt sorry for her already. But Lonnie’s future wasn’t Joanna’s problem, was it? Her own future was what was at stake here. Lonnie could worry about herself.
“You might need to work some overtime,” she told Lonnie. “Will that be a problem?”
Lonnie shook her head. “No. Actually, Mr. Newton mentioned that it might be necessary, and I told him I had no problem with it.” She smiled at Joanna. “I’m single and I still live at home. I don’t have a lot of responsibilities.”
“That’s good.” Joanna was having a hard time thinking of Chick as Mr. Newton.
“I plan to try to find my own place fairly quickly, though,” Lonnie added. “Um, why are you leaving, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“I have an opportunity to do what I’ve always wanted to do—something I’ve worked toward for years.” Joanna glanced at Chick’s closed door. She knew he wouldn’t be thrilled if he heard her talking about anything personal. “I’m a fashion designer and I’m going to do that full-time.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Lonnie said. “I’m envious. I have no creative talent at all.”
“Thank you. I’m excited. I admit it.”
“I don’t blame you. I’m glad, though, that you’ll be here next week to train me.”
“Yes. I didn’t have anyone to train me. I had to figure everything out on my own.”
“Um...” Lonnie lowered her voice and glanced at Chick’s closed door. “Is, um, Mr. Newton nice to work for?”
“Well,” Joanna said, mentally crossing her fingers, “he can be tough, like any boss. I mean, he wants things done right. But he’s not an ogre or anything. And he’s fair.”
This was true. Chick was fair about work. In fact, he had been a good boss until Joanna became personally involved with him. If she’d had sense enough to keep their relationship one that was strictly business, she wouldn’t have had any problems here. For a moment, she almost considered warning Lonnie, but wisely discarded the impulse. Lonnie would have to learn her own lessons.
Keep your eye on the goal line. Remember what you’ve been working toward all these years. And it’s almost here.
Joanna managed to cover everything she needed to in less than an hour. Lonnie left soon after, thanking her profusely and saying she’d be there promptly at eight Monday morning.
After that, Joanna worked like a whirlwind. In a way, it was a good thing she was so busy because otherwise she’d have been unable to do anything but watch the clock and obsess over the coming evening.
Yet she couldn’t entirely stop herself from thinking about it. And whenever she did, her stomach would flutter. About the dozenth time this happened, she lectured herself sternly.
Tonight is not a date.
Quit acting like a giddy teenager.
Marcus is coming to see your designs, not you.
And yet he had invited her to dinner. Just because he’s thoughtful and nice, that’s all. Not because he’s interested in you.
But no matter how many times she told herself this, she knew it wasn’t quite true. Oh, he was thoughtful and nice. That part was true. But the sexual tension between them wasn’t her imagination. He was as attracted to her as she was to him.
She should have said no to dinner. That would have been the smart thing to do. She should keep any time spent with him strictly business. Because nothing had changed since the last time she’d thought about this. Marcus Barlow was still way out of her league. He would never be interested in any kind of permanent relationship with someone like her. And Joanna wasn’t interested in anything else, not at this point in her life. She’d learned her lesson well with Chick. She wanted what Georgie had: a Prince Charming, a wedding ring and a family.
Anything less was out of the question.
Chapter Eight
Although she had wanted to make some phone calls to her own suppliers—in particular to a new fabric store she’d discovered online—Joanna instead worked through her lunch hour, eating her chicken sandwich at her desk. Better that than taking a chance on not getting office jobs finished by the time she needed to leave. She only stopped working to answer a text from Georgie and an email from her mother. Other than that, she barely took time for potty breaks.
And thank the Lord, Chick left for an appointment at two. Knowing he had t
o drive out to Sandpoint, Joanna figured he couldn’t possibly get back to the office before their four o’clock Friday closing time—not that she thought he would. Especially as she was almost finished with the invoices before he left. He couldn’t resist lobbing one veiled threat, though, saying he would check in with her later to make sure there were no emergencies.
She rolled her eyes once the door closed behind him. Later. In other words, near the end of the day. Probably five minutes before quitting time. To make sure she didn’t skip out early.
How childish he was. Did all men at some point feel the need to roar and bare their teeth to prove their manliness or something? The thought reminded her how Marcus had tried to intimidate his sister over the modeling suggestion Joanna had made. Although he hadn’t threatened Vanessa, he’d certainly tried to impose his will.
Maybe all men did feel the need to control the women in their lives. The thought was unsettling, because Joanna had decided at an early age that no one, and certainly no man, would ever tell her what to do, especially as it pertained to her private life...and her choices. She’d witnessed enough of that with her father—who, even though he was a really nice man and obviously loved her mother—still wanted to be in charge. Of everything.
And her brother Tony! How Sharon put up with his manipulation, Joanna didn’t know. It was one thing to be under the thumb of a boss in a working situation. Everyone had to compromise certain stances at times; it was called being practical and realistic. Deciding what was important to you and what you could sacrifice to achieve your longer-term goals spelled m-a-t-u-r-i-t-y.
But on a personal level?
That was a different story. She couldn’t imagine allowing some man to tell her how to live her life: what to wear, what to eat, what to read, what politics or religion or way of life to believe in. Actually, she couldn’t imagine anyone controlling what she thought and did.
Not even Marcus Barlow?
Not even him.
When she was too young to know any better, she’d imagined that only Italian men like her father had that seemingly built-in need to be the center of the universe by bending the women they loved to their will. She’d attributed their behavior to the pampering and adoration they received from their mothers.