A Total Mismatch

by Madelaine Grant

  She doesn’t know about the Blue Monkey brawl, he thought with relief. Then he realized Lori would most likely recount the whole episode as soon as they met. “Listen, Diane, Lara and I are not together anymore. We broke up last weekend. I’ve made plans for Sunday with several guys to play racquetball and then dinner later on. Sorry about that. We’ll have to schedule a date sometime soon.” He’d made up the last part, but she’d never know.

  “You’re not with Lara? I can’t believe it. You two seemed so right. I was thinking you’d finally found the perfect woman, and it was only a matter of time before you’d tie the knot. I must say, I’m disappointed.”

  “Well, those things happen. I remember when you married Dave Pepper years ago. I was sure you two would make it work,” Jordan reminded her.

  “Dave turned out to be a liar and a cheat, not to mention his gambling habit!” Diane exclaimed. “Lara is a lovely person. We’ve become very fond of her. I think she’ll be at the shower on Sunday.”

  “I hope you all have fun. Although I wonder why Andrea is bothering with a shower since she’s remarrying the same guy she married the first time. I can’t imagine what she could possibly need that she doesn’t already have.” This hullabaloo about bridal showers and formal weddings was too much for him.

  “That’s not the point,” she informed him.

  He gritted his teeth before he began a fruitless argument with her. “Whatever, enjoy the day and give my regards to everyone.”

  “Jordan, before you go I have to ask you something. Did you break up with Lara because you met someone else? I mean, it doesn’t make sense unless there’s a new woman in your life.”

  He took a deep breath and decided to sidestep that provocative question. “Diane, I’d rather not get into personal issues. I don’t butt into your life, and I expect my sisters to give me the same courtesy. When there’s something to announce, the three of you will be the first to know.”

  “Ah, now it all makes sense,” she said in a gleeful tone of voice. “Who is she? Do we know her? That’s why you’re being so defensive.”

  His patience was wearing thin. “For God’s sake, Diane, cut it out. I have more important things to handle right now than your questions. I’ll call soon.”

  Why did women have to be so annoying? Especially sisters, he thought glumly as he hung up. If he had the good fortune to have three older brothers, they wouldn’t bother with stupid questions. They’d understand his situation and leave him alone.

  He returned to his notes on the conference call with a vengeance, but his mind was still on the conversation with Diane. Why was Lara going to the bridal shower? Unless she really did plan to attend the wedding with someone else, as Lori intimated. Then again, did he care one way or another? He was thinking of inviting Sam to the wedding. Would Lara recognize her as the belly dancer from the Blue Monkey? That would be unfortunate and could cause a scene. Irritated at this train of thought, Jordan decided to let go of the whole subject of women and Andrea’s wedding and focus on work.

  ~ ~ ~

  Sam was able to catch up on some much-needed rest on Friday morning. Peter told her not to come in until noon. The belly dance performance in front of an audience with cameras rolling had been fun. But she was exhausted. Fridays were particularly busy at the gallery, so she was grateful for the morning’s relaxed schedule.

  When she entered the gallery, two men were in deep conversation with Peter. Both men had dark hair and olive-toned skin. They turned toward her, and she almost knew who they were. But what were the Berdoga brothers doing here?

  Peter sent her an encouraging smile. “There you are. These gentlemen have been waiting to see you. They’re the owners of the East Village Brewery.”

  Two pairs of dark-brown eyes gave her a thorough appraisal before the taller man spoke. “I’m Hassan Berdoga, and this is my brother, Omar. We are very pleased with the performance you did for our television ad.”

  “Thank you,” Sam said. They were younger than she’d imagined; probably the taller one was in his late twenties and the shorter, stockier brother couldn’t be more than thirty. She wondered why they’d come to the gallery. Was there something else they wanted her to do? She didn’t have to wait long to find out.

  “We want you to be our guest for dinner Saturday night, hosted at our recently opened corporate headquarters. Also, we hope you won’t mind posing for some photos with us. We want to use them to publicize our beer,” Omar explained with a broad smile.

  “Of course, we’ll compensate you for your time,” Hassam said quickly. “I wouldn’t expect you to do this without payment. We’ve been talking to Peter, and the fee we have in mind seems satisfactory to him.”

  “I see,” Sam said, slowly looking at Peter with raised eyebrows. Was he now her agent? “Unfortunately, I have a date Saturday night that I don’t want to break.”

  “No problem,” Hassam exclaimed. “Bring the gentleman along.”

  “I’m not sure he’d go for the idea.”

  “Why don’t you ask him?” Peter suggested. “I should think he’d want to enjoy a Moroccan dinner with you, all expenses paid.”

  He did have a point. “Okay, I’ll call him and let you know.” Fortunately, Jordan had given her his business card at lunch the other day. He’d also written his home phone number on the back. This was not exactly what she’d had in mind for Saturday night, but maybe it would work. Anyway, she’d be earning extra money, which always came in handy. She’d give the large check to Beth and Sean Fuller and keep whatever she earned from posing with the brothers for herself. Yes, that wasn’t such a bad idea at all.

  Chapter 11

  “Do you mind if I leave a little early?” Sam asked Peter.

  “I don’t think you’re in the mood to do any work today, so you might as well skip out. After all, you’re practically a TV star.”

  “Not quite, but I need to get a few new outfits.”

  “Ah, for that dinner tomorrow evening,” he said with a knowing look. “You’ll be spending all the money in advance of those publicity shots.”

  “Probably,” she admitted sheepishly. “I also have several events before Andrea’s wedding that require new stuff.”

  He shook his head in mock annoyance. “Just like the typical woman. Always going on shopping sprees.”

  “Me?” Sam exclaimed. “You gotta be kidding. I hardly ever go shopping for personal items. It’s just that all these things are suddenly coming up . . .”

  “You have a new boyfriend. Don’t tell me that doesn’t play into the equation.” Seeing her look of discomfort, he added, “I’m teasing you, you know that. Go on and have a good time spending that hard-earned cash.”

  “Which I haven’t earned yet,” she said ruefully.

  “You will. I have confidence you’ll do a good job for the brewery. By the way, they invited me to the dinner. Did you know that?”

  “No, you never mentioned it. I’m glad you’re coming. If Jordan’s still going to take me out tomorrow evening, why don’t you join us?”

  “Not on your life. I don’t think Jordan would appreciate a third wheel. I’ll come by later in the evening when the dinner starts,” he replied. “I have things to do here.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Sam made a beeline for the same boutique she’d shopped in on Monday.

  The saleswoman remembered her. “Nice to see you again. What are you looking for today?”

  “A number of things,” Sam murmured, glancing about. “I have a dinner tomorrow evening and a bridal shower on Sunday. If I can wear the same outfit for both occasions that would be great.” She walked over to a rack of dresses on one side of the boutique and began searching. “The trouble is, I’m not a particularly good shopper. I usually avoid stores like the plague.”

  The blonde-haired woman lau
ghed. “That’s hard to believe. With your height and good looks, you could easily be a model. Here, let me show you some of our latest fashions. There are several that could be appropriate.”

  For the next hour, Sam tried on a variety of stylish garments and finally narrowed her choices to two particularly attractive outfits. One was a pale-lavender sheath dress with rows of stitched pleating on the bodice. The other was a slim black skirt with a side slit paired with a yellow linen tunic top with black buttons.

  “What do you think?” she asked Ellie, the saleswoman. They were on a first-name basis by now.

  “They both look good. The skirt can be used with different tops depending on how dressy the occasion is, and the sheath dress fits you like a glove. By the way, the boutique is involved in a fashion show coming up soon. Several of my customers are modeling outfits, and I wonder if you’d be interested. One of the perks is that you can buy any of the garments you model at wholesale prices. The money we raise will go to a charity. It should be a fun experience,” Ellie said.

  “I’ve never modeled before!” Sam exclaimed with a startled expression. “I wouldn’t know the first thing about it.”

  “You don’t have to know a thing. We’ll have a professional model showing you how to do the ‘runway walk’. Believe me, with your looks and height, you’ll have no trouble at all.”

  “I’m a working woman and don’t have much time off.” She was astonished at all the opportunities coming her way, from television ads to a modeling gig. Was this all due to the simple act of changing her hair color and style? What would be next?

  “The fashion show is scheduled for the second Sunday in June. It will be held in one of the large hotels in midtown Manhattan. We’ll rehearse for a few hours in the morning and model the clothing while the guests are having brunch. It should be exciting,” Ellie said with a smile.

  Sundays would work, Sam thought. But did she want to do this? “I do have Sundays off, but let me check my schedule and let you know.”

  When she left the boutique with a large shopping bag, she’d purchased not only the two outfits but extra tops for the black skirt, a black cashmere shawl to go over everything, several pairs of panty hose, and some sexy underwear. The last was not exactly necessary, but she thought Jordan would spend Saturday night with her. This time she’d be prepared.

  ~ ~ ~

  Sam phoned Jordan at his office when she came home. Punching in his number, she settled into a comfortable chair in the living room.

  “Sam, this is a nice surprise,” he said.

  “I hope you won’t mind changing our plans for tomorrow evening.” She proceeded to give him the pertinent details of the television ad for the brewery and their latest offer of a free dinner and payment for photos taken with the owners.

  For a moment he was speechless. “I thought you wanted to keep a low profile after that story in the Gazette. Why did you change your mind?”

  How could she explain it to him? “Beth and Sean were my closest friends. As you know, they’re angry with me for refusing to go home with Brice. They also want me to give them your name, which I won’t do. Sean told me Brice was injured in the fight, and he wants to sue you. I thought if I could send them a large check it might compensate. Peter suggested I do the ad and make a check out to them. The owners of the brewery came to the gallery today and want me to do publicity for their products. They’ll pay me, of course, and I could use the money.” Would he understand the predicament she was in?

  “Let them try to sue me–and do not give them a penny. That’s my advice. I didn’t start the fight. You can give them my name, too. In fact, let them have the business card I gave you. I’ll be happy to discuss their complaints. They don’t have a leg to stand on. As far as going home with that drunken guy Saturday night, do you honestly think you could have handled it?”

  Sam took a moment to digest his remarks. He sounded more annoyed than worried. “I wouldn’t have let him take me home under any circumstances. We’d have ended up in a fight. I know that. But Sean and Beth only see Brice’s position. They don’t understand mine.”

  “You don’t need friends who won’t support you,” Jordan said quietly.

  She took a long, indrawn breath. “Beth and I have been close since college. It hurts to give up a long relationship like that.”

  He was silent for several long moments. “Sometimes those things happen. About tomorrow evening, if it’s important to you, I’ll go along with dinner at the brewery. We can save the Italian restaurant for another weekend. Should I still pick you up at seven?”

  “They’d like me earlier for the photo shoot. I was planning to leave the gallery at five and head to the brewery. Do you want to meet me there? It’s in the East Village.”

  “I’ll pick you up at five at the gallery,” he said firmly. “We can go together, and I’ll get to watch the show.”

  “Some show,” she scoffed.

  “If you’re involved, I’m interested.”

  ~ ~ ~

  After talking to Sam, Jordan discovered several things he hadn’t realized before. First, she must be on a tight budget. Second, she’d lost a close friend due to his interference Saturday evening. Actually, he should have known artists usually struggled to make a living. The belly dancing business was not exactly a lucrative one either. Did she own that brownstone she lived in, or was she renting? Recalling the interior of the place, the appliances were outdated and what he could see of the furniture wasn’t particularly impressive. She probably purchased the stuff at a thrift shop. A major change from Lara Jensen’s fancy digs.

  Did that bother him? Not particularly. What they shared in the bedroom more than made up for any lack in the interior decorating department. Regarding the loss of her friend, he could understand her sadness. But Sam had done nothing wrong. How could her friend defend that drunken guy? He’d have made Sam’s life miserable if he’d taken her home. Either they’d end up arguing or he’d try to force her to have sex. No, Jordan wasn’t sorry about butting in.

  With both those issues processed, he could go back to work with a clear conscience. His date with Sam on Saturday night would be different than the evening he’d imagined, but he was still looking forward to it–and especially to the night that would follow. This time, he wouldn’t leave at three a.m. They’d spend Sunday morning snuggling and getting to know each other. He’d take her out for brunch, and if all went as planned, spend the rest of Sunday afternoon making passionate love. At this last thought, he couldn’t help smiling. This would be one special Sunday–he was sure of it.

  ~ ~ ~

  On Saturday Sam wore the black skirt and yellow top to work at the gallery. In a small bag she brought along one of the other tops for the evening’s dinner. This one was a silver and black knitted silk that molded itself to her shape. It featured a built-in bra and a halter neck and was very comfortable.

  The day passed quickly, with lots of customers purchasing many of the fine crafts and prints. It was almost closing time when she realized she hadn’t bought a gift for Andrea’s bridal shower. There was little time to hunt for something. She picked out a hand-painted tray from their crafts gallery and wrapped it in silver paper with a large white bow. If Andrea didn’t like it, she could give it as a gift to someone else or donate it to a thrift shop. Sam didn’t care either way.

  A quarter hour before Jordan was due to pick her up, she disappeared into the bathroom to change tops and freshen up. Taking a quick appraisal, she couldn’t help being pleased. This was such a new feeling. Why had she waited so long to make this transformation? The answer came in a millisecond. Jordan. It wasn’t the answer she wanted, but it was the truth.

  A few minutes before five, Jordan walked into the gallery. Sam’s back was turned away, but she knew he was there. A heightened awareness made her skin tingle and her heart beat faster. When s
he swiveled around, she couldn’t help smiling. Dressed in a navy-blue sports jacket, dark-gray slacks, light-blue shirt, and pearl-gray tie with thin red stripes, he looked wonderful.

  She walked toward him, suddenly feeling a little shy. “Hi,” she said softly, her eyes locked with his. “You’re very prompt.”

  “I always am,” he said, appraising her. “Pretty outfit.”

  She saw the wicked glint in his eyes and blushed. Would she ever be able to take men’s compliments for granted? Not for a while. This was so new.

  “I’ll get my things, and we can leave. Peter is joining us later,” she told him.

  For a moment he frowned. “Peter? Oh, that’s your partner in the gallery. I haven’t met him yet.”

  “Wait a minute.” She walked away to find him and pick up her bag and shawl. “I want to introduce you to Jordan. Do you have a moment?”

  “Of course.” Peter promptly rose and followed her into the front gallery.

  Sam made the introductions and the two men shook hands. “I like your taste in flowers,” Peter remarked. “Those were gorgeous roses.”

  If Jordan was surprised, he didn’t show it. “I haven’t seen them yet, but I’ll take your word for it.”

  “I’m sure you’ll see them tonight,” Peter replied.

  Sam felt uncomfortable at his assumption that Jordan would be spending the night at her home. Then again, did it matter?

  “We’d better get going,” she murmured. “See you later, Peter.”

  ~ ~ ~

  The East Village Brewery took up a complete city block, with the corporate headquarters housed in a renovated yellow brick building. An enormous modern sculpture, painted bright red, dominated the front of the place. A uniformed guard patrolled the grounds, and when Jordan pulled into a spot, he came over.