“No lectures.” Dakota glared, but she couldn’t manage to keep the corners of her mouth from curving slightly. “I get paid to give them. That makes me a professional. Don’t mess with me.”
Dallas grinned at her younger sister. “Glad to see some of the old fire in you again.”
“Don’t go there.”
“What?”
“I like what I’m doing, okay?
“I’m sure you do.”
“God, you know how much I hate that passive-aggressive tone—” Dakota stopped and stared at Dallas in disbelief. “You sounded just like Mom.”
“Funny,” she said and muttered a curse.
“Seriously. You totally sounded like her.”
Dallas bristled and turned away to pour herself a cup of coffee. Of all the insults Dakota could have hurled, that was the lowest.
“No, really. I’m not trying to be obnoxious.” She shrugged. “You really sounded like her.”
Dallas sighed.
“But only for a second.”
They looked at each other and laughed. It felt good. Just like the old days. Before Dakota had gotten so caught up in her career that she forgot to enjoy life. Just like the rest of the family.
“You want a cup of coffee?” Dallas asked.
“Nope. You know I don’t drink that nasty stuff. Anyway, I gotta go.” Dakota checked her watch again and then abruptly brought her head up. “I almost forgot. Mom wants us all to come to the house for dinner on Saturday.”
Great. “What’s the occasion?”
Dakota shrugged. “I think she just wants to see everyone.”
“I think I can make it. I’ll check my calendar.”
Dakota hesitated, her serious gray eyes tentative. She obviously wanted to say something. Probably in defense of their mother’s dominating edicts. The woman never made requests. They were more like demands. And Andrea Shea expected unconditional compliance.
To her credit, she’d taught her daughters self-sufficiency, the importance of an education and to never trade on their looks. Dakota could have easily made it in modeling. With her honey-colored hair, gray eyes and wide smile, she was perfect for the camera. A real natural. But she’d been a serious and bright student who’d never given her appearance a second thought, much less attempted to parlay her looks into a career.
“Dallas, I’d really like it if you came. We haven’t had a family dinner in a while.”
A soft knock at the door drew their attention. It was one of the women with whom Dallas worked. Dressed in clean jeans and a white cotton shirt, Nancy smiled shyly. “I guess this is the place.”
“Yep. Come in.” Dallas motioned her inside. “You’re the first one. I’m really glad you came.”
“I’ll see you later,” Dakota said, acknowledged Nancy with a quick smile and then disappeared before Dallas could introduce them.
“How about some coffee?” Dallas set her cup down and picked up a clean mug.
“Sure.” Nancy glanced around the conference room, admiring the dark polished wood, the pair of Georgia O’Keeffe paintings on the cream-colored walls. Beyond the expansive windows was a spectacular twilight view of midtown. She walked closer to the glass. “Wow!”
“Do you take cream and sugar?”
“Just sugar,” Nancy said absently and then blinked at her. “Oh, I’ll get that. You don’t have to wait on me.”
“I get you the first cup, then you’re on your own.” Dallas added the sugar and then handed her the mug.
She accepted it, her eyes inquiring as they locked with Dallas’s. “Tony said you went to college.”
“Yes,” she said slowly, not wanting to invite conversation on the subject but not wanting to seem rude either. “So did he.”
“Yeah, but he dropped out after two years. He says you even have a graduate degree.”
“There are cookies here, too. The chocolate-chunk ones are awesome.” She was gonna smack that big-mouth Tony.
Nancy shook her head. Her brown hair, still a little damp, hung down around her shoulders instead of being pulled up in her usual work ponytail. “I don’t get it. If I didn’t have to do such a dirty job, I sure as heck wouldn’t be out there sweating every day. I’d even rather waitress if it weren’t for Petey.” She shrugged. “When you got a kid and no husband, you gotta make sure the money is steady coming in.”
“I understand. But that doesn’t mean you have to put up with the kind of abuse those jerks dish out. That’s why we’re here tonight.”
Nancy’s face darkened and she hunched her shoulders. “No one knows about the meeting, do they? I can’t afford to get fired.”
“Number one, they can’t fire you for this. That would be illegal. Number two, none of the guys know unless one of the women told them.”
“Who opened their friggin’ big mouth?” Jan walked in, shrugging off her backpack. She still wore her work jeans and boots. Her short dark hair hadn’t been washed but merely slicked back. “I’ll take care of ’em.”
“No one.” Dallas sighed. That’s all they needed. Jan was a loose cannon with enough muscle and attitude to cause some damage. Rumor had it that she’d decked one of the forklift drivers and sent him to the hospital. “I was just reassuring Nancy. That’s all.”
Three other women who Dallas vaguely recognized walked in together. They all worked for Capshaw’s Construction, too, but they were part of a crew that worked on the Upper East Side, which meant word was spreading.
Dallas ushered them toward the coffee and cookies and then poked her head out the door to glance down the hall. Another woman had just stepped out of the elevator. Alone. Not good. Apparently word wasn’t spreading quickly enough. It was already ten minutes past the time the meeting was supposed to start.
“Hey, are we gonna start soon? I only got a babysitter for three hours,” a short, stocky blonde said between bites of cookie. “And I already used up one of them.”
“Let’s wait five more minutes, okay?” Dallas foolishly checked her watch again. Only seconds had passed. Where the hell was everybody? From the responses she’d received, she’d been so sure of a larger turnout. But that was the basic problem. Their initial enthusiasm always seemed to evaporate into fear.
After ten more minutes of eating and chatting and exploring the conference room, the women began to get restless, and Dallas decided it was best to get started.
They all took seats and went around the table introducing themselves. Even though they all worked for Capshaw’s Construction, they worked for different crews and knew each other casually.
“Okay,” Dallas said after the room got quiet. “Who wants to volunteer to lead the meeting?”
Six blank faces stared back at her and then they glanced nervously at each other.
Jan spoke first. “I thought this was your party.”
Dallas shook her head. “This gender problem doesn’t belong to any particular individual. That’s the reason for this meeting—to pull together to decide what action we should take. There’s strength in numbers.”
“We already have a union.” Jan snorted. “Not that they give a rat’s ass about us.”
“Look,” Dallas said, “we need to make a stand together. Neither the union nor Capshaw’s Construction can ignore us if we make a joint statement.”
“But they can fire us.” Nancy clasped her hands so tightly that her nails dug into her skin.
“No, they can’t.” Dallas gave her a reassuring smile. “That would leave them wide open for a lawsuit.”
“They’ll still give us a bad time,” Sally said, her freckled face flushed. She looked twelve and sweet. Amazing what came out of her mouth. “I get enough shit from those pigs as it is.”
“Individually, yes, I agree, it’s hard to stop the harassment. It’s your word against theirs. But what I’m suggesting is that we all sign an informal complaint and give the powers that be an opportunity to talk to the men. Legally, once they know the harassment exists, they have to address the
problem and make sure it stops.”
“You mean like put our names in writing?” Nancy asked, clearly horrified at the thought.
Dallas hesitated. She didn’t want them all running out of the room. “That’s something we have to discuss further.”
“I have a question,” Yvette said. A quiet woman with sad brown eyes and a heart-shaped face who hadn’t said anything since introducing herself, she seemed the most reluctant attendee.
“Yes?” Dallas prompted.
“What if the person giving you trouble is your supervisor?”
“That don’t mean nothing. He can’t do that.” Jan’s fists clenched. “Right, Shea?”
“Of course not. It makes the harassment even more despicable. He could be fired for that. Have you discussed the problem with anyone higher up?”
Yvette’s eyes widened. “Goodness no. He would have fired me!”
“Bullshit! Tell her, Shea.” Jan’s face reddened with anger. “Tell me who he is. I’ll kick his ass.”
“Jan,” Dallas said softly. “We have the law on our side. There’s no need for violence or threats. We just need to stick together to become more effective.”
“That’s why I’m here,” Jan said. “None of them guys bother me.” A couple of the women chuckled, and even Jan grinned. “But I see how those pigs act with some of you, and it sucks. It ain’t right. I wanna back you up.”
“Thank you, Jan.” Dallas nodded at her. “We appreciate your courage and support.”
“I got a question for you, Shea.” Jan studied Dallas for a moment with a hint of suspicion in her eyes and then asked, “Why are you here? Somebody told me you used to model and you went to college. You don’t need to do this stinkin’ job.”
All gazes riveted to Dallas. They all had the same question in their eyes, the same suspicion. Total honesty was required. And owed them.
Dallas cleared her throat. “Yes, I once modeled and I do have a college degree, and in fact, I have a graduate degree in business. But I hated the pressure of modeling and I realized the path I’d taken in school had been to please my parents. To be perfectly honest, I don’t know what I want to do.” She smiled wryly. “Except that I don’t want to work in construction all my life.”
They all snorted and glanced at each other.
“I admit this is temporary for me, a way to earn a living until I figure out what I want to do.” That her parents considered her choice an act of defiance was merely a bonus. But she didn’t want to share that tidbit. “But I still want to help improve the work conditions for women who choose this job.”
“Or have no choice,” Yvette said miserably.
“It’s not a bad job,” Jan said, shrugging. “You go home at the end of the day and that’s it. No worries.”
“Yeah, right,” Nancy said irritably.
“I didn’t mean nothin’. I get it that the guys give you a hard time.” Jan sighed loudly. “I’m just sayin’…”
Dallas slumped in her seat. “How about we try to be a little more constructive?”
The meeting continued for another hour but with little progress. They all agreed on only two things. One was to think about what had been discussed and then meet again the following week. The second was that Dallas should lead the charge. Too bad she had no idea what to do next.
DALLAS LET HERSELF INTO HER apartment and sighed with relief when she realized Wendy wasn’t home. They got along great. Rarely disagreed. But tonight had been horrendously draining, and all Dallas wanted to do was stretch out with a glass of wine. And talk to Eric.
No. Bad idea. She’d be likely to spill too much of her frustration with work. Share her disappointment. Let him get too close. That would be totally foolish. Disastrous. A great way to ruin the fantasy.
She kicked off her shoes and poured herself half a glass of wine, when she’d really like to down half the bottle. She stared at the jagged nail on her index finger and gritted her teeth. None of her fingernails were long but she kept them at a decent enough length for an occasional French manicure. Today she’d spent four hours sanding walls. Ever so carefully, with gloves on. Then five minutes before she’d knocked off, there went the nail.
Normally she wouldn’t care, but tomorrow evening was the reception with Eric. She looked at the phone. Maybe she should call to confirm. If plans had changed, he couldn’t call her. She still hadn’t given him her number.
She took a sip of wine, telling herself that was an excuse. She could wait until tomorrow to talk to him. Anyway, he was probably working. Drumming her fingers on the counter, she glanced from the phone to the clock and then back to the phone. Two minutes. That’s it. Just to confirm tomorrow evening, she told herself and grabbed the receiver.
With her purse slung over her shoulder and carrying the glass of wine in one hand, the phone in the other, she headed for her room. She gave herself a few more minutes to change her mind about calling while she kicked off her shoes and turned down her lemon-yellow comforter.
Her room was too tiny to hold anything more than a twin bed, a nightstand and a small dresser, so she plumped her pillow and positioned it against the wall and then made herself comfortable, sitting cross-legged with her back against the pillow.
After another sip of wine, she took a deep breath and dialed his number. She knew it by heart after a glance. It was an easy one to remember.
She let the phone ring three times and was about to hang up when he answered. His voice sounded hoarse, husky, as if he’d been sleeping, but it was only eight-thirty.
“Hey, Eric.”
“Dallas?”
“Yeah, did I wake you?”
“No, of course not. I’m glad you called.”
“Yeah?” She smiled, her misgivings dissolving.
“I wish you hadn’t disappeared last night.”
“I didn’t exactly disappear. I just didn’t want to wake you. Besides, I left a note.”
“You should’ve woken me.”
She smiled at the drop in his voice. “Why?”
“I had something for you.”
An image of him standing naked in front of her last night instantly flashed in her mind. “I can’t imagine what that could have been.”
“Come over now and I’ll show you.”
Laughing, she put her glass on the nightstand and then slid into a horizontal position. “I bet.”
“Where are you?”
“At home.”
“What are you wearing?”
“A big, bulky white chenille robe and pink curlers in my hair.”
“Ah, my older-woman fantasy come to life.”
Dallas smiled and rolled over to her side. “I just got home from my meeting.”
“How did it go?”
“Pretty horrible.”
“Sorry to hear that. Want to tell me about it?”
She bit her lip, annoyed that she’d allowed the conversation to go in that direction. “No, I want to talk about something more pleasant.”
“Okay,” he said slowly, “let’s get back to what you’re really wearing.”
“You mean besides the G-string?”
After a long moment of silence he said, “You’re kidding, right?”
“It’s black. Not that you can see much of it.”
After another pause he asked, “What did you say your address was?”
She laughed. “Nice try.”
“Yeah,” he said, sounding a little put off. “Or you could come here.”
“It’s late.”
“It’s only eight-forty.”
“I have to get up early.”
“So do I.”
“We wouldn’t get any sleep.”
He laughed. “Like I’m going to get any now.”
“Good point.”
“Tell you what, where are you?”
“At home, really.”
“No, I mean right now.”
“In my room, lying on my bed.”
“Perfect.”
S
he sucked in a breath, suddenly aware of where this was going. “Why?”
“Take off your clothes.”
Heat spiraled through her. “And?”
“Take them off and then I’ll give you further instructions.”
She hesitated, momentarily self-conscious, but excitement at the prospect of what could come moved her to do as he asked, and she unbuttoned her jeans.
“Dallas?”
“Yes?”
“Tell me what you’re doing.”
“Taking my clothes off as you asked.”
“Be specific.”
She laughed, a little self-conscious again.
“Tell me,” he urged, his voice growing hoarse.
“My jeans,” she whispered, her hands starting to tremble. “I’m pulling down the zipper.”
“Go on.”
“I’m pushing the jeans down past my hips.” She cradled the phone between her chin and shoulder as she struggled to free herself of the stubborn denim.
“Are they off yet?”
“Almost.” The phone slipped as she shoved the jeans to her ankles. She kicked them off and repositioned the receiver. “Okay.”
“Are you wearing panties?”
“Of course.” She laughed. It came out shaky.
“Describe them.”
“They’re black.”
“Silk?”
“Yes,” she lied. Plain cotton wasn’t sexy and she was really getting into the game.
“A thong?”
“Yes.”
He moaned, the sound low and raspy and shooting straight down her spine. “Take them off.”
“They’re already off.”
He breathed deeply into the phone. “Now your blouse.”
“I’ll have to put the phone down.”
“Leave it where I can hear you.”
She sat up and took a quick sip of wine. “You, too. Take off your clothes.”
His laugh was more a low, sexy growl. “Baby, I’m way ahead of you.”
“You’re naked?”
“Almost. Down to boxers.”
She smiled as she unbuttoned her blouse. “What color?”
“Don’t ruin the mood.”
“Come on. Play fair.”
He hesitated. “Black with red chili peppers.”
She laughed. “Really?”
A Glimpse of Fire Page 9