“It doesn’t matter. I don’t know French, so you could have been saying ‘Pass the pretzels’ for all I know, but it sounded very much like swearing, so it’s the same difference.”
“Then I apologize, but, Meg…you have to know that you weren’t the one at fault here. The man was and is an ass. He didn’t deserve you.”
“Nonetheless I was going to marry him and now I’m not. End of story. It’s over. It’s ancient history. I’m completely fine now.”
Except of course she wasn’t completely fine. A woman like her, one who had faced rejection and untrustworthy people all her childhood and who had thought she had finally managed to make a place for herself using only her wits, didn’t easily get over the shock of knowing she’d fallen victim to a con man. She had given Alan her heart and her trust and had been made to look like a naive fool.
“I hope when we’re done here that you’ll be able to tell Alan Fieldman that you’ve won. Sometimes men aren’t to be trusted.”
She blinked at that.
“You?”
“I’m no saint, Meg. I may not lie to you the way Alan did or make promises I don’t intend to keep, but don’t fall into the trap of believing that I’m better than I am. The one good thing I can say for myself is that I never make promises I can’t keep to women anymore.”
“Not even about this business?”
He gave her a grim smile. “I have high hopes for this business, but there are no guarantees. Mistakes are sometimes made that can’t be called back.”
Meg was pretty sure that he was thinking of his wife then, but she had no right to ask. She appreciated the gentle warning, however. Maybe he had just been trying to tell her that he wouldn’t be like Alan, but she had needed a reminder that it would be dangerous to get too close to Etienne. And there was no secret about that. She already knew that he was a man who would only be in her life for a short while. His world and hers would not intersect once he returned to France.
“I should get back to work,” she said.
He looked down at her then. “When I made that comment about women and promises, I hope you know that I wasn’t implying anything, Meg. I didn’t mean that you might be thinking of me romantically. I wouldn’t be so arrogant as to presume that.”
He ran one hand back through his hair and Meg couldn’t help laughing.
“What?”
“You,” she said. “Since we met two days ago, you always seem so self-possessed, so in control and calm and cool. Now you’re flustered because you’re worried I might have thought you were warning me not to fall in love with you.”
“I never thought you might be.”
Which only made her laugh again. “Etienne, have you looked in the mirror lately? Half the women in the office, old and young, are smoothing their hair and reapplying their lipstick when they hear the office door open. I’ll bet they’re all horribly disappointed when it’s me and not you who appears.”
“But you’re their friend.”
“Yes, but I don’t have a Y chromosome, broad male shoulders and a French accent. I don’t think you need to apologize for warning women away if there’s no chance you’re going to fall for them. It’s only fair to let them know you’re not available.”
He shook his head. “Yes, but it still feels arrogant to say so.”
“Better than letting them think you might be interested.”
“Should I wear a sign saying that I’m not available?”
She grinned. “That would be interesting, but I don’t think it’s necessary. In an office this size word gets around quickly.”
“Ah, the rumor mill. Who starts these rumors, I wonder.”
“In this case,” she said, with a mock curtsy, “I will.”
“Meg Leighton, spreading rumors?”
“Spreading the truth,” she corrected. “It’s a tough job but hey, someone has to volunteer to do it.” And she sighed.
“You are a very admirable woman,” he said.
“Ah, more pretty compliments. I love them,” she teased. Where had this man been all her life? And where would he be in two months?
Gone. The answer came in a flash. She’d be wise not to forget it.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE next few days went by in a blur of work, work and more work. The entire company had to be inspected, taken apart and put back together, and Etienne marveled at the enthusiasm with which Meg and her team tackled every task. He might be the planner and the one with the experience, but once he had made a decision, Meg led her troops full steam ahead into whatever he asked them to do.
What’s more, she was a creative genius, so when he suggested that, besides updating their product, they needed to make the building suggest the appearance of a thriving concern, she drew up some ideas.
Now, here she was beside him, looking a bit uncertain. “Problems?” he asked.
“I…It’s the paint for the office.” She fidgeted with the poppy-red scarf at her waist. Meg’s penchant for color wouldn’t quite let her go the monochromatic route, Etienne had noted, and red was her favorite. It was a charming habit.
“There’s a problem with…paint?”
She sighed. “I’m sure that you wouldn’t find it a problem, but…see, I feel perfectly comfortable handling the books or the employees or the orders, but as for choosing paint…I’d really, really appreciate your input. I have this teensy little habit of fixating on colors that are overly bright.”
She did. He adored that, but for this, she was right. The office needed to have the right look for the brochure they were making.
“All right, let’s go buy paint.”
Meg shook her head. “Oh, there’s no need. I stopped by the store and picked up some color cards yesterday. I narrowed it down, picked out a few and got some samples to try on the wall. I just want you to tell me what you think of the results. I found a corner of the room where I painted a few squares. All you have to do is tell me which square is the right one.”
She led him into the main room and over to the spot she had indicated. There were four large colored squares painted on the chalk-white wall. There was a very pale almost invisible blue, a classic colonial-blue, a bold darkish blue and the last, a dazzling electric-blue.
“That last one looked better on the card,” Meg explained, clearly embarrassed. “I just…I need to see things, but even I can tell that one won’t do. It’s a bit shocking, isn’t it?”
Just then, a man stepped up to the water cooler not ten feet away. He stared at the squares, pretending to shield his eyes.
“Whoa, Meg, did you do this? Take it easy, will you? You’re going to blind me with that bright blue.”
Meg smiled self-consciously…and noticed that Etienne had moved to her side.
“What does that man—Jeff?—what job is he involved in?” Etienne asked, his voice low.
“Excuse me?” she said, lowering her voice to match his own.
“What task in particular is he working on?”
“He’s…I believe he’s working on the payroll statements.”
“All right. Good. Ask him when you can expect them on your desk. Say it calmly but firmly,” Etienne instructed.
“Is there a reason you need to know? He’s right there.”
“And you’re right here, too.” Etienne said. “A woman who wants to establish her place in the business world and wants to know how to do it.”
She looked at him for several seconds, then took a visible deep breath and turned with a curt nod despite the concern in her expression. The other man was almost ready to leave the water cooler. “Jeff, excuse me, but could you tell me how far along you are on those payroll statements? I’d like them on my desk sometime today. It’s not something I can wait on.”
The uncertain woman had been replaced by a cool, confident one. The man did a double take. He looked at Etienne with a question in his eyes, but Etienne ignored him, so the man turned back to Meg.
“Today?”
For a mome
nt Etienne saw Meg hesitate. She didn’t want to push the issue.
“I know you can do it,” she said softly. “I have faith in your abilities, Jeff.”
The man gave her a shaky and grateful smile. “Thank you. And getting them to you today won’t be a problem, Meg…I mean, Ms. Leighton,” he said.
Her answering smile was glorious and if the man had looked as if he’d been hit with a rock before, now he took on the expression of a man who had been hit by Cupid himself. “Thank you so much, Jeff. Your expertise and promptness is making things run so much more smoothly.”
“In an hour, Ms. Leighton,” Jeff said. “You’ll have them in an hour.” He smiled at her again as he moved away.
Etienne waited for him to be gone. Then he turned to Meg.
“Well, ma chère, what do you need me for? You’re a complete natural,” he said. “I only meant for you to start making the switch from being his colleague to being his employer, but you moved him directly from employee to willing slave status.”
“He was only being truthful about the bright blue,” she said, wrinkling her nose at the vivid color.
“Maybe so, but he has to depend on you now. You outrank him and he needs to know that when he has a problem, you can help. If you don’t maintain that employer-employee status, your friends and colleagues will have no one to direct them when I’m gone,” he said.
Meg looked at him with those big, bright solemn eyes. Etienne worried that she, who had faced far too much criticism over the years, might be hurt by his comments, but she nodded. “I’ll work on that, but I’ll probably stumble now and then.”
“You have an affinity for the job. You’ll do fine.”
“You’re a good instructor,” she said. “But we still have a problem.” She looked toward the room.
“Ah, the color. Let’s go with the dark blue with ivory trim. When it comes in…we paint.”
“Us?” she asked with a smile.
“All of us,” he said, indicating the room.
“Oh,” she said, and he wondered if she was going to tell him that painting was beneath her dignity or that it wasn’t what she’d had in mind when she’d told him she wanted to be a successful businesswoman.
Suddenly Meg grinned and wrinkled her nose in such a cute way that Etienne’s heart flipped around a bit. “Don’t look at me that way. I happen to love painting,” she said. “The chance to slap stuff on a pristine wall with no repercussions? What’s not to love?”
And for some reason, Etienne believed her. There was just something irresistible about watching Meg when she was enthused about something.
The painting had gone faster than she had anticipated, Meg thought several days later when most of the employees had gone home and she and Etienne were the only ones left.
“Everything looks good, doesn’t it?” she asked, staring around the room. The paint had made such a difference.
“It does. It looks amazing,” Etienne agreed and she looked up to see him looking at her.
She suddenly felt self-conscious in her baggy jeans and white T-shirt with a tear at the shoulder. She had lots of paint on her, especially on the part of her shirt right over her left breast, where she had accidentally brushed against the wall. She was a mess, but Etienne…That man could do wonderful things to a black T-shirt and a pair of white painter’s pants. Today was the first day she had seen him wearing something other than a white shirt and tie. He was mouthwatering in business attire but the T-shirt revealed tanned muscled biceps that made her want to stare.
She forced herself to look away. “I’m glad we did the painting ourselves,” she said, trying to change the subject quickly so that he wouldn’t notice her staring. “It was fun. I love having the chance to relax and just get messy.”
“I love watching you get messy,” he said suddenly, affection deepening his voice.
Her breath caught in her throat. “I…”
“You’re shocked that I said that about you. Frankly, so am I,” he said, his voice washing over her. She couldn’t turn around. She was too afraid that the naked desire in her eyes would be visible.
“You’re right about the satisfaction involved in doing this ourselves,” he said. “I could have paid to have someone paint, but it’s a task everyone here could take part in. And when I’m gone, I want to leave you in charge, but as I’ve mentioned, I want the employees to own the company. When people own something, they fight for it. Painting the office was a start to staking their claim. By their own hands they’ve improved it.”
Then Meg couldn’t stay turned away from him anymore. “You are going to be missed.”
“I’m still here for a number of weeks,” he said. “And we’re not even close to done yet. Even today…”
“A new lesson for me?” she asked.
“Not quite.” He reached out and lifted a long strand of her hair. “You have golden lights in your hair,” he said. No one had ever said anything like that to her, especially not with that appreciative tone of voice. Meg swallowed hard. “You also have paint in your hair. I’m taking you to a stylist.”
“You’re going to cut my hair?” She almost whispered the words. Why did the thought alarm her? She had no reason to be vain about her hair. It was just plain brown hair.
“I wouldn’t think of it, unless, of course, that was what you wanted. It’s your hair and a very personal part of you, Meg. I’m just suggesting that we shape it and cut out the paint. Would that be all right?”
He was asking her to trust him, though he hadn’t said the words. She wanted to say yes. Unlike painting, styling her hair was one of those things she wasn’t good at. Her father had disliked any reminders that he had produced a second, unwanted daughter and watching Meg fuss with her hair had always made him snarl. So she hadn’t developed the skill. As for trusting Etienne, hadn’t trusting people been what got her into so much trouble over the years? She wanted Etienne’s help but she also needed to retain some pieces of herself.
“I’d like to talk to the stylist myself,” she ventured.
He nodded. “Of course. Do you have a favorite one?”
“I don’t have one at all.”
“All right. I can take care of that.”
In no time at all, they were in a shop where the chairs were more luxurious than her furniture at home. The stylist, Daniel, asked her what she had in mind.
Panic ensued, and Meg sighed. She turned to Etienne. “I have no clue, but…” she maintained. “At least I got to say that much.”
Etienne chuckled. “You did. You took charge, and if at any time during this procedure you’re alarmed at how it’s going we can stop.”
“No,” Daniel said. “I’m an artist. I don’t do things halfway.”
“I respect that,” Etienne said. “But Meg is a person, and I don’t want her to have any regrets.”
“She won’t.”
Etienne gave Meg a look. She knew that she had to be wearing that total panic mode expression.
“Long,” Etienne said in a tone that brooked no argument. “Just clean it up, shape it. Take as little off the length as possible.”
And just like that, knowing that Etienne wasn’t going to let her turn into a disaster zone, Meg relaxed. “About two inches shorter than what it is, I think,” she said. “Shoulder length.”
“Good,” Daniel said. “You’d look good with some layers framing your face. Just a bit for softness. And bangs. Not everyone can carry off bangs, even though most people think they can. You can.”
“Daniel thinks I can wear bangs,” she said to Etienne. “What do you think about that?” All these compliments might have gone to her head if she wasn’t so thoroughly grounded in reality.
“I think Daniel is an artist,” Etienne said with a smile. “You know how you feel about painting? Well, I’d say that Daniel feels that way about hair.”
She looked up at the tall, bony man who was waiting a bit impatiently. “Sorry for all the discussion and nail biting. It’s a life chan
ging issue. But…okay. You’re the artist. Give me bangs.”
He did, and they were full and bouncy and Meg loved them. The soft tendrils that swept across her cheekbones made her feel feminine. When they left the shop she glanced in the window outside to see her dim and wavy reflection.
“It still looks as good as it did in the shop,” Etienne told her.
“Thank you,” she said.
“It was all Daniel,” Etienne told her.
But it hadn’t been. No one else had ever even seemed to care what her hair looked like. Of course, this was just all part of the deal she had struck with Etienne, but he could have simply given her a few tips on how to go on in the business world. Although she had used the word transformation, she hadn’t expected to feel so different and free and…aware of herself as a woman.
“Then thank you for taking me to Daniel,” she insisted. “You are a great person.”
But her comment didn’t elicit Etienne’s customary charming, dimpled smile. She missed it.
CHAPTER SIX
ETIENNE knew he had to be careful with Meg. She had been so joyful, even grateful after Daniel had turned her already pretty hair beautiful. And she was starting to think that Etienne was better than he was.
That would be disastrous. With his annual anniversary date drawing nearer, dread was starting to creep in now and then. He was far too aware of who and what he was. If Meg saw him as a good guy, and he ended up disappointing her…If her faith in him led to him harming her in any way…
It wasn’t going to happen.
For the next week he threw himself into work, trying to map out every angle, to figure out all the ways to make Fieldman’s come back to life. He and Meg oversaw the day-to-day operations, the cleanup of the building. He bought new computers, had the outside of the building sandblasted and had the new sign installed.
A photographer came and took photos of the interior, the exterior and of the three sample pieces of furniture Don Handry had managed to complete in record time.
Not trusting himself to spend too much time alone with Meg, Etienne drove himself, but the day came when there was no getting around what came next. He had a feeling Meg was going to…what was the term? Freak out just a little.
The Frenchman's Plain-Jane Project Page 6