For Eric's Sake

by Carolyn Thornton

  Each of the girls was given five outfits to model, which seemed quite a lot to Brandy as she noticed the size of the restaurant and the zigzagging course laid out between the tables. When she read the card accompanying the first outfit her nerves jangled further. How would she ever remember all of this information, especially if every outfit required such detailing? she wondered. Fortunately, as she was handed a terry sports outfit, another dress and two swimsuits, she found only two of the descriptions would make her feel as if she were reciting the Gettysburg Address.

  The first dress was layered in voile, and accented with flounces and little ties. Brandy was glad to be getting that one out of the way. She stepped out into the restaurant wending her way around the tables with a stomach full of butterflies, but by the time she reached the last table and gave her speech correctly and informally, her confidence won out over the nerves.

  She hurried into the changing room for the next outfit, a day dress in bold colors and wide stripes, worn with a simple white bolero jacket. She was shocked to find the dress a size too big, but the bolero covered her enough in case one of the straps of the dress decided to stray off her shoulder.

  Brandy's confidence was reflected in the way she walked and in her lighthearted voice. Several ladies stopped her to ask questions about the dress, which she was relieved she could adequately answer. One man had her spin around an extra time—so he could see the cut of the dress, he said. If she had not been wearing the semi-concealing bolero, she might have doubted his word.

  The terry sports set was next, strapless and chic. The selling point of this particular outfit was the well-known designer, so Brandy finished her speech at each table in record time—but the man at the center table, who had expressed such interest in the last outfit, found plenty to say about it. Brandy was beginning to think twice about his interest, especially when he started to ask how easily it came off.

  She stalked away as politely as she could, and hurried to change into the next piece: a flowing caftan of rich hues of blue from turquoise to peacock to midnight, all deftly blended one into the other, with underneath, a shocking-pink bikini. Mr. Inquisitive is going to love this, she thought, concentrating on her lines and hoping he wouldn't embarrass her.

  She avoided looking in his direction as she emerged, taking little courage in the fact that some of the other girls were giggling about his leering looks: at least it proved he wasn't singling her out. If she took longer at the first table, she could hurry at his to try to make up her lost time, and maybe cut short his delaying remarks in the process.

  Because she was avoiding the center table, Brandy didn't notice when Shaw Janus walked into the room and joined her admirer at his table. Shaw was just apologizing for being late when Brandy heard and recognized his voice. Her heart beat faster as she caught sight of him.

  Brandy came up behind Shaw's companion and smiled shyly. Her sudden appearance nearly caused Shaw to choke on the water he had just put to his lips. "What the—"

  Looking straight at Shaw, directing all of her narrative solely for his benefit, she warmed to her subject. She knew she looked good in the outfit, seductive even, and it was safe to look that way for Shaw—certainly safe with a crowded restaurant of people staring on. She wouldn't dare dress this way if they were alone.

  "What is going on here?" Shaw managed to finish his sentence.

  "It's a fashion show," Shaw's companion answered. "Quite a selection of desserts, don't you think?" He reached out and patted Brandy as if he had arranged the entire show for Shaw's benefit.

  Brandy jumped at his familiarity while Shaw muttered through gritted teeth, "Take your hand off of her, Wayne."

  Wayne laughed, his hand still in the folds of Brandy's caftan.

  "Please," she whispered, not wanting to create a scene, but resenting the man's hand, and embarrassed that Shaw should see her in such a predicament.

  "I said," Shaw repeated, "take your hand off of her."

  "Shaw," the man removed his hand, a big grin spreading over his face, "where's your sense of humor?"

  Shaw glared at him while Brandy took the opportunity to escape to the next table. Her mind was only half on the description of the caftan as she overheard Wayne say, "The way you're acting, a man would think she was your wife."

  Brandy paused in her talk, straining to catch Shaw's answer, but she couldn't hear whether he admitted it or not.

  One outfit to go, and it was the most revealing—a "swiss cheese-cut" swimsuit that had barely enough "swiss" to cover her "cheese." The coverup wasn't much of one either—a sheer shortie negligee. She wished Shaw had arrived much earlier and gone already, but she knew as she tucked her hair beneath a floppy straw hat that nothing in the world would get him to leave now. At least she wouldn't have to put up with the other man's pawing, though.

  A blush had started on her neck and spread to her face before she even advanced to the second table in the restaurant. Shaw's eyes followed her every movement, and try as hard as she might she found it difficult to avoid his eyes as she modeled the swimsuit.

  His own face seemed darker than usual. As little time as Brandy had been with him she still recognized the signal as mounting anger. Well, she was very sorry if he and his friend were at odds because of her, she thought. She had not asked Wayne to manhandle her, and she had not acted impolitely in spite of her acute embarrassment. It would be bad for the store's policy if she did anything but remain calm and pleasant despite any treatment the audience handed out. Shaw had no reason to be mad at her for his friend's bad taste.

  Lifting her head higher, she glided to their table and forced her most dazzling smile upon them. Shaw's frown deepened, but Wayne's eyes glittered more than ever. "I have to admit," Wayne said after Brandy had delivered her brief description of her garments, "you sure can pick 'em, Janus. If he ever gets tired of you, honey, look me up." He winked at Brandy.

  Brandy glanced hastily from one to the other. Shaw wasn't saying a word, but she was certain he would save up enough for the first moment they were alone. She couldn't say she was looking forward to that night—not that she would otherwise have been eagerly awaiting Shaw's arrival.

  "How many more of these outfits are you going to… display?" Shaw caught her wrist as she was about to leave their table.

  "This is the last one," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She swallowed. "Let go of me, Shaw. It'll throw everyone out of sequence."

  "When will you be finished?" he demanded, his thumb massaging the inner softness of her wrist. It only served to make her more aware of him, and more aware of how much of her body he was seeing.

  "Whenever all of the other girls finish."

  "I'll take you home."

  "I have my car." The last thing she wanted was to be alone with him in a confined compartment. "But thank you." It wouldn't hurt to try to appease him with a little politeness.

  Wayne interrupted whatever Shaw had intended to say by commenting, "First argument, you two?"

  "It's none of your business," Shaw snapped. Brandy was relieved that someone else was getting the benefit of his temper.

  She slipped her wrist out of his grasp and continued to the next table, so upset she didn't even realize she was describing the last swimsuit she had worn until the woman glanced up at her and said, "Oh, does this come in shocking pink, also?"

  Brandy smiled and edged away, leaving the woman's question hanging in the air. She was still shaking thirty minutes later when the last girl came out of the restaurant and Rich's fashion coordinator began expressing his delight at the success of the show. Brandy was relieved that no one had noticed the exchange at Shaw's table.

  She finished dressing, brushed out her hair and packed up her belongings. "Young lady," the fashion coordinator sidled up to her.

  Oh dear, thought Brandy, he did notice!

  "Yes, sir?" her lower lip trembled.

  "I noticed you made quite an impression on several of the gentlemen in the audience," he commented.
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  "Yes, well, I can explain, sir," Brandy replied haltingly.

  "You don't have to explain, my dear. It's quite obvious. You're a beautiful girl. Men are attracted to you. It makes for good business in the fashion world."

  Her lower lip dropped. "Then you're not upset?"

  "Lord no!" He laughed. "Tantalize and tease. Al-ways keep them guessing. It confuses them so much they think it's the clothes and we have them rushing in the store to buy the same thing for their wives and girlfriends."

  "Oh," she said, not knowing if that was how the business really worked or if this were merely his opinion. "I hope that I've contributed to the success of the show."

  "You have, my dear, you have." He looked her up and down, then asked, "Dean's agency sent you over, didn't they?"

  "Yes, that's right."

  "Then they should have your name and address on file."

  "Yes, I mean, no. I just moved and my agent only has my phone number. Here—" She dug through her purse for a slip of paper. "I'll write it down for you. My schedule is very flexible and I enjoyed today so much. I hope I can be of service to the store again."

  "I'm certain we can work something out." He smiled, and Brandy missed the leer in his eyes as she scrawled her particulars on the piece of paper.

  "Thank you, sir." She held out her hand. "It's been a pleasure working with you today."

  "The pleasure was entirely mine," he assured her. "Shall I walk out with you?"

  "Yes, of course." She glanced around, surprised to see that nearly everyone else had already gone. She picked up her purse and compact suitcase.

  The fashion coordinator put his arm around her shoulder. Brandy didn't know how to inform him she would prefer he not be so familiar, so she kept both hands on her bags and her body as stiff as possible.

  "We're planning another show in a few weeks," he revealed.

  "It must keep you very busy arranging these productions," she answered, trying to keep the talk strictly business.

  "Very busy," he commiserated, "and it's difficult keeping a bevy of girls in mind who have the right figure for the type of clothes we're trying to sell."

  Brandy nodded, hoping he would ask her to be in the next show, but not wanting to seem too pushy by asking outright.

  "I was watching you today." His eyes swept over her again. She pretended not to notice. "I was impressed. Very youthful, yet mature, very…" he gestured with his right hand as if it would help him find the word he sought, "full-bodied."

  "Thank you," she said as they went out the door. "I know I'm a little short."

  "I don't think anyone noticed today when you were wearing that last swimsuit."

  "Where will your next show be?" She tried to steer him back to the original subject of the conversation.

  "Around the pool of the Hyatt Regency."

  She nodded.

  "I wonder—"

  "Yes?" She held her breath.

  "I wonder if you'd like to try out a few other suits for me at my office—say one day next week? Depending on how things work out, I might be able to fit you into the show. I like to work with girls with whom I have a good—personal rapport. You understand, I think?" He smiled at her.

  "Oh, of course," she assured him, her mind latching onto the possibility of earning more money and gaining experience. "When should I come by?"

  He dug in his pocket for his card. "Noon, I think. There should be less interruptions then. Shall we say Tuesday?"

  "I'd be delighted." She smiled, pleased that she had made an impression on the man in such a short time. As she looked at him, she noticed Shaw glowering at her from the side of a nearby potted palm and knew he had heard most, if not all, of their conversation. By the expression on his face, which she had to admit had not altered from the way he had looked when she had left the restaurant thirty minutes earlier, he was not pleased. "But I'm not certain if I'll be free then." She disentangled herself from his side. "May I call you?"

  "I don't ask twice," he stated, sizing up Shaw and dismissing him in one glance.

  "Oh, well, I—"

  "I'm afraid my wife will be unable to keep any sort of appointment with you, next week or any week," Shaw cut in.

  "Shaw," Brandy wailed, thinking of the money she needed, "this is my business."

  "No," he corrected, grasping her wrist and pulling her out of the fashion coordinator's path, "this is my business now. By your choice, I might remind you."

  Brandy glanced from one man to the other, wondering which of them it would be more costly to anger. A second look at Shaw told her she had no choice at all.

  "But I'm a model," she argued, knowing it was a losing battle. "I need the—experience."

  "That kind of experience you can get at home." His eyes narrowed as he sized up the other man.

  "Shaw! What are you implying?"

  "He knows what I'm implying." Shaw's eyes never left the other man's face.

  Brandy shook her hand free of Shaw's and turned to the fashion coordinator. "I'm terribly sorry. I hope you don't think I agree with him," she apologized.

  "I do have better things to do than stand here and be insulted." The coordinator drew himself up to his full height, which was still somewhat short of Shaw's.

  "I really am terribly sorry." Brandy knew it was hopeless to appease him at this stage. "Shaw, apologize."

  Shaw just continued to glare at the man, who made a parting comment about jealous husbands and stalked away.

  "How could you?" Brandy flew at Shaw. "You've ruined everything!"

  "That's your opinion. God, you're naive! Can't you see what the man was after?"

  "You're making that up just because I find him more appealing than you. Besides, I would only have gone there for business. My mind doesn't work the way yours does, Shaw."

  "I'm well aware of that. Nor does it work the way his does. You're not very experienced in sizing people up."

  "No," she pouted. "You're right there. I wouldn't have involved myself with you if I'd been better able to judge character."

  Brandy saw that her words hit their mark and she immediately regretted saying them, though she couldn't retract them.

  "If that's the way you feel, then I don't care if your reputation goes to hell, which it would have done in short order with that jerk!"

  "I, you—" Brandy took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I guess you meant well. It's just that I need the work so badly."

  "Why? You're not exactly living penniless right now, you know."

  Tears welled in her eyes. What would her life be like when she and Shaw parted and she didn't have any money saved? "I've already taken too much from you, Shaw, by snaring you into marriage. I can't take your money as well."

  "I have enough not to notice."

  "It's the idea of the thing. I've never been a leech."

  "I don't believe you ever could." His voice softened.

  The new tone of his voice and look in his eyes disarmed her, sending delicious shivers down her spine. "I've already taken too much from you," she whispered. "I'm very grateful."

  He stared at her for a long moment. "Sometimes it's more blessed to give than to take."

  Brandy couldn't look at him. She knew what he meant: he wanted her. It was clearly written in his eyes. But she couldn't give herself to him—not if she wanted an annulment after she gained custody of Eric. Yet, she owed him something.

  "I can't, Shaw," she whimpered.

  "Why not?" he asked, calmly, not prodding her any longer.

  "I wish I loved you." Tears glistened in her eyes.

  He raised his hands in exasperation. "God forbid that you ever do. It would only complicate things."

  "But don't you see? If I loved you, I could give you everything of myself—but I can't justify that without love."

  "This is a useless conversation," he snapped. "Where's your car?" He led her toward the elevator.

  "Talking, I'm beginning to see, is never going to get us anywhere."

  "I disagree w
ith that. It may not get us where you want us to go, but open discussions can be very helpful," she replied logically.

  "Hmmm," he grunted, and Brandy was certain she had not heard the last of his opinions on their relationship.

  Chapter Seven

  The days between the fashion show and the first court appearance passed with an uneasy and unspoken truce between Shaw and Brandy. Even in such a short span of time, Shaw seemed to have fallen in love with Eric. At times, he was even nice to Brandy, acting almost like a big brother. She wanted to believe Shaw might be accepting her for herself now that he had a better opportunity to know her, but she tried not to raise her hopes. He, like her, was probably just acting so pleasant, protective and "brotherly" for Eric's sake, but he had more reason than ever to be frustrated with her.

  Each night she went to bed conscious of tension in the air. Each night she locked the bedroom door knowing Shaw could open it as easily as a matchbook— if he wanted to. But he never did, and that worried her.

  Perhaps it was reverse psychology, she told herself, but each night she found herself thinking more and more about what it would be like if he came to her and rightfully shared his bed with her. She even had dreams about it, dreams so warm and sensual she would wake up in the dark and want to run to Shaw asleep on the couch—just to feel his arms around her. She wanted to know that he cared, but she would end up crying herself back to sleep because she knew he didn't. No man did… and it would be a long time before anyone could.

  Throughout the lonely nights Brandy came to realize something about Shaw's personality. He wanted her, but his pride wouldn't allow him to come to her. No woman had ever turned him down before. He was determined to wait it out with her, tantalizing her with seductive inferences until she would give in to his subtle urgings.

  He sent her flowers for no reason. He helped her wash dishes, which secretly endeared him to her because he was filling her fantasy of the kind of perfect domesticity she had always dreamed of one day sharing with a man. And, as he promised, he took Eric and Brandy flying in his airplane, treating Eric with all the respect, awe and delight a real father might show his son.