“Oh, hush. I’m just suffering from cold feet. And... Let me call you back.”
“All right, and I can’t wait to see you in that great wedding dress.” After hanging up with Shelby, Jansen closed her eyes and sank into the leather seats, wanting nothing more than ten minutes of sleep. But all she could think about was how she was going to ignore Bradley when she ran into him in Paris. Then another thought popped into her mind. What if Bradley arrived at the wedding with his new woman?
So what. It’s time for us to move on anyway. I’m sure Bradley Stephens isn’t thinking about me at all, Jansen thought as she opened her eyes and blankly watched the passing cars.
Chapter 2
“You were talking to who?” Bradley asked his sister as he kicked his feet up on his oak desk.
“Jansen. What do you want, Bradley?”
“How is she?”
“I can’t talk to you about her,” Shelby said. “That’s the only reason she’s remained friends with me. But if you want to beg for forgiveness, I’ll let her know.”
Bradley sighed. “Is she going to be in your wedding?”
“No. She doesn’t do bridesmaid dresses. I know you didn’t call me to talk about my bridesmaids.”
“No, I called you because I got these bills. You’re spending too much with this wedding.”
“What?”
“I’m trying to prevent you from hearing a lecture from Kenyon,” he said.
“Fine, I’ll take him off the guest list. I know this is about the grudge he’s holding because of the—”
“We’ve had enough fighting in this family and I’m pretty damn sick of it.”
He heard Shelby suck in her breath. She had been on Kenyon’s side for a while when he wanted to shut down the family center after their parents died. Sure, Kenyon had been a little harsh when he said the center had been their parents’ dream and it was time for the three of them to blaze their own path, with a business of his own. Bradley had wanted nothing more than to preserve the legacy of Joan and Winston, who’d established their foundation to protect women who society ignored and turned its back on. Shelby had been a little oblivious to the work that the center did until she discovered that her friend Yancy had needed the SFRC’s help to escape an abusive situation. She felt so bad for almost allowing her greed to keep her friend’s family from getting what they needed. She’d also understood why Kenyon wanted to do his own thing. But when he’d sued Bradley and the Stephens estates to get his inheritance early, things had gone too far.
For three years, the Stephens were a fractured family. And maybe that had been why Bradley felt abandoned when Jansen followed her dreams, leaving him with someone else’s expectations. Part of him resented Jansen because she’d been able to do what he couldn’t. Been able to press forward and do what she wanted and not what had been expected of her. But if he’d been totally honest with himself, Bradley would’ve realized that he’d placed those expectations on himself. And he’d just assumed everyone would’ve fallen in line behind him.
It had taken a while for the family to recover from the lawsuit, which Bradley had won, and he retained control over the estate. What Shelby and Kenyon hadn’t realized until they had gotten their portion of the inheritance, Bradley had been a deliberate steward of their money. All he’d asked was that they’d participate in the annual fund-raisers. Shelby did it happily. Kenyon grumbled, but he did his part, as well.
“You know Kenyon is never happy about anything, I want my wedding to be a happy day,” she said. “I don’t want to hear him talk about—”
“Shelby, don’t be like that,” Bradley said, then laughed. “He’s just trying to look out for you.”
“Whatever, he’s hoping that I self-destruct and he gets to pick up the pieces.”
“No one wants that to happen. And... Let’s just focus on happy, Shell.”
“I thought you were calling to tell me to stop spending money. How’s that happy?”
“Shelby, I called you because three million dollars is too much for a wedding and the marriage probably won’t last a year.”
“Why would you say something like that? I guess because you can’t hold on to who you love, you think we’re all going to have that same issue. You never got over Jansen and can’t keep a woman for more than three months. That’s your story not mine!”
“Shelby, you’re an impulsive hothead. I know this man is either blessed with the patience of Job or he’s just as volatile as you are. Why haven’t you brought him to Atlanta?”
“So you can give him the third degree? I don’t think so. You’ll meet him when you come to Paris.”
Bradley sighed. “Is he good to you?”
“Do you think I’d marry him if he weren’t? I want that end-of-the-world love that Mommy and Daddy had.”
The kind of love Bradley had thought he and Jansen would’ve shared. He’d wanted nothing more than to have her by his side, as the center became a national resource for women and children in trouble. Had he been wrong to think that his plan wasn’t the same as hers?
Obviously.
“Hello? Bradley, are you listening to me?” Shelby’s sharp voice brought him back to the present.
“Yes, you love him, he’s good to you and you’re going to bring him to Atlanta.”
“Clearly,” she said with a laugh, “you weren’t listening.”
“Kenyon and I want to meet this man, Jack—”
“It’s Jacques.”
“I bet that dude is from Detroit, moved to France and—”
“This is where I hang up on you,” Shelby said. The next thing Bradley heard was the dial tone. Laughing, he hung up the phone then logged on to Google. He was determined to find this guy’s Detroit birth certificate. Bradley laughed at himself after he hit Enter. He didn’t have to check the guy out; he knew without a doubt that Kenyon had already taken care of it. That dude was more suspicious than a roomful of CIA agents. He thought everyone with a pulse was after money.
Bradley sighed and didn’t want to admit that, as of late, he’d been feeling the same way about some of the women he’d dated. Their main goal in life seemed to be the next cast member of The Real Housewives of Atlanta as Mrs. Bradley Stephens. As if he’d ever let that happen. “Yancey,” he called out, and then he remembered that he’d given her the rest of the day off. Deciding that he wasn’t going to get any more work done, Bradley decided to treat himself to an afternoon of doing nothing.
* * *
That Donovan Strange was hilarious ran through Jansen’s mind so many times that she could barely get out what she’d needed to talk to him about. He kept her laughing about everything.
“Jansen,” he said as he waved for a waiter. “I know you didn’t want to meet with me to be bored with stories about your colleagues. What’s going through that pretty little head of yours?”
Jansen smiled and waited for the waiter to set another bottle of wine on their table. She folded her delicate hands underneath her chin and smiled at him. “The future.”
“The rapper?” he quipped. Jansen frowned, wondering how he made such a huge mark in the fashion industry when he was never serious. Maybe that was his secret. But failure wasn’t an option for Jansen.
“You and I both know that my expiration date is fast approaching. Any model after twenty-eight is old news in this industry,” she said.
Donovan shook his head and poured himself a glass of wine. “Jansen Douglas, you’re the Face. What are you worried about?”
“The next face that comes along. Donovan, I don’t want to end up on some reality show faking a marriage.”
“Are you kidding?” he asked. Seemingly taking note of the serious look on Jansen’s face, Donovan eased back in his seat. “What are you hoping to do, Jansen?”
“When I came in
to this industry, I didn’t know anything and there are a lot of people who like to take advantage of young girls. I want to curb that.”
“So, you’re thinking of starting a full-service agency?”
She nodded. “I want to help these girls and show them that they’re worth more than what people see on the outside.”
Donovan smiled. “I heard that you used to work for a family resource center, I guess that’s where you get this desire to help people. What exactly do you need from me?”
“A mentor and access to investors. You are more than an amazing designer, you’re a brilliant businessman.”
“So, what do you want me to be? The mentor or the money?”
“I’d love for you to be both, but I’m realistic.”
“Meaning?”
“Everyone knows the economy has changed, and I can’t expect you to just give me money for my start-up.”
“But you’re smart enough to know that you shouldn’t tie up your capital in your start-up. I’m impressed. Do you have a business plan?”
Jansen sighed, remembering why she needed a mentor. “No. I’ve been doing some research on how to draw up a business plan. But I just have a few paragraphs.”
“Let me see.”
She pulled her iPad from her oversize purse and opened the file she’d been working on for the past three months. Donovan took the tablet from her hands and slowly read the outline of the plan. “May I offer you a few suggestions?” he asked.
“Please.”
Donovan placed the iPad in the center of the table and they huddled around the tablet. He suggested that she tailor the business plan to fit different lenders and investors.
“Just a rule of thumb, I’d create three different plans that say the same thing.”
Jansen laughed. “See, that’s why I need you.”
“What you have here is good,” he said. “This has the potential to help empower a lot of models. Both new and veterans... But there are going to be a number of industry folks who won’t like this.”
She shrugged. “Why not?”
“Because you’re trying to empower women to own themselves.”
“Why shouldn’t we?” she asked with her right eyebrow raised.
Donovan reached for his glass of wine, took a long sip and then smiled at her. “I’m all for it,” he said, then raised his glass as Jansen reached for hers. “Let’s toast to the success of the Jansen Project!”
Jansen clinked her glass of wine against his and smiled. She felt confident that the Jansen Project was destined for success. Suddenly, flashbulbs went off around them as a pack of paparazzi started firing off questions.
“Are you two dating?”
“Get out of here,” one of the bouncers, who was rushing toward the photographers, snarled. With his massive arms, he started pushing the mob forward.
Donovan laughed as he downed his wine. “I guess this is what a date with the Face is like. Not that this is a date,” he said. “But I’m sure the blogs will run with that.”
Jansen crinkled her nose. “Anyone with a Wi-Fi connection and a keyboard calls themselves a reporter these days. The sad thing is, people believe what they read in the blogs more than they do on legit news sites.”
After another bottle of wine, Jansen and Donovan decided to call it a night. They headed out of the club and stood on the curb, waiting to hail a cab. After the scene in the club, the manager took care to make sure there were no paparazzi waiting for them when they left.
“You know,” he began, “this meeting came with strings attached.” He wiggled his eyebrows and Jansen’s stomach dropped. Was he really one of those guys?
Taking note of her furrowed brows and narrowed eyes, he grinned. “Jansen, not those strings! I have a show coming up and I need a flawless showstopper. That would be you.”
She released a sigh of relief. “I’d love to. When and where?”
“Paris in April,” he said. Jansen clapped her hands and smiled.
“That’s awesome because I’m going to be in Paris this April.”
“Kismet,” he said. “I’ll email you the details. And just so you know, this will be the debut of my wedding collection.”
Jansen’s smile faded a bit. She was beginning to wonder if the only wedding gown she’d ever wear would be in a fashion show.
Chapter 3
Bradley drove aimlessly though Buckhead, not wanting to go home but having no desire to hang out at a club or bar. He hated nights like this. He didn’t have any work to do and he wasn’t interested in a booty call, though he had a few numbers he could dial for companionship. But tonight, his mind was on one woman.
Jansen.
Every so often, his yearnings for her would render him restless. His mind would always return to those last moments, the day he ran her out of his life. Bradley could still see that pained look on her face as she stormed out of his office.
That face. That beautiful face.
“This is how we’re going to end things?” she snapped.
“You walked in here and said you were leaving. All I said was go.” She hadn’t expected this to be the reaction to the news of the lucrative modeling contract she’d been offered and her chance to spend six months in Italy as she worked with veteran designer Lupe Diego.
“How about supporting me, Bradley.” Jansen slammed her hand against his desk. The move startled him, he’d never seen her this angry before. But what was she mad about? The fact that he wasn’t doing backflips because she was leaving him? When did she get so caught up in the modeling thing? “Supporting this frivolity? You’re beautiful, but so are thousands of women.” What he didn’t say was that he felt the modeling industry was filled with users who would be using their influence to sleep with novice models like Jansen to get what they wanted.
“Stop.”
“What we’re doing here makes a difference. And—”
“You selfish bastard. I can’t believe you’re trying to belittle what I want to do because it doesn’t meet your standard of—”
“That’s not what I’m saying, Jansen. But the work we’re doing here makes a difference...”
“And if my modeling career takes off, you don’t think I would continue to help girls and families in need?”
“You’re too smart to be a model.”
Jansen stalked toward the door. “And I’m also too smart to deal with a man who’s so blinded by his own vision that he can’t see past it.” She grabbed the doorknob, then turned and looked at him. Bradley hadn’t risen from his seat. She narrowed her almond-shaped brown eyes at him. “I guess I’m right.”
“Trying to let you come to your senses.”
Jansen picked up a crystal paperweight and threw it on the floor. “I have come to my senses. I’ve done nothing but love and support you. Now that I need you, you want to dismiss my dreams! That’s rich, because you’re always preaching to young women that they matter.”
Now he was on his feet, stomping over to her. “Have you lost your damn mind?”
“No, I just found it. All of these years, I put your needs first. Was I supposed to be the clouds and the sun in the background of your damn life? A pretty face for you to show off in Atlanta? I want more and I’m going to get it.”
“Don’t leave,” he said with a bit of a quiver in his voice. “Jansen, I—you know what...” He wiped his hand across his face. “Go. Because I’m not going to be the reason you pout for the next twenty years.”
Jansen sighed and squeezed the tears back in her eyes. “Go to hell, Bradley.” Turning on her heel, she stormed out of the office and Bradley stood there as if his feet had been rooted to the floor.
Regret stung him today as hard as it did three years ago. He should’ve gone after her. A horn blared behind him, alerting him
to the light change.
Blowing through the intersection, Bradley decided to head to the Waffle House for a hearty meal and strong coffee. Then he’d go home, find some work to do and stop thinking about Jansen. As he stopped at the next red light, he saw a billboard featuring Jansen selling perfume—looking larger than life and more beautiful than he remembered.
Maybe when he saw her in Paris he could do what he should’ve done years ago—apologize for being a jackass and kiss her one more time.
* * *
Jansen loved days like these, no photo shoots, no early-morning makeup sessions, just listening to her favorite playlist as she jogged in Central Park. She still marveled at the sights and sounds of the city. Every day, even after the three years she’d been a full-time New Yorker, she found something new to love.
Then again, she was truly fooling herself. She was still a Georgia peach, but she couldn’t and wouldn’t go back to Atlanta because she didn’t want to be faced with running into Bradley and his new family.
How do you know he has a family? she thought as she slowed her pace. So what if he does. He probably found a nice subservient woman who does everything he says. Jansen sped up as a mixture of jealousy and anger pushed her forward. Why did she care? How many years had they been apart? And he never once tried to contact her or personally said thank-you for her yearly donation. Walking to the East Green section of the park, Jansen decided that silence would serve her better than another three miles of running.
What would she do when she saw him in Paris? Ignore him, she thought.
After roaming around the park for another hour, Jansen decided to treat her assistant to lunch at db Bistro Moderne. Although she didn’t love the place, Dove was enthralled with the bistro. And she deserved it after setting up the meeting with Donovan.
Dove reminded her of many of the girls she’d wanted to help in Atlanta. She wasn’t the most efficient assistant in the world, but she worked really hard and was the closest thing Jansen had to a girlfriend in the city.
Befriending models had never worked for her. Everything was a competition and she didn’t have time for that madness. That was one of the reasons why she and Shelby remained close, despite what happened between her and Bradley.
Blissful Summer: Make You Mine AgainUnraveled Page 2