CHAPTER THREE
AT FIRST, Garrett wasn’t certain that the
frozen woman who stared at him from behind a massive wooden desk
was the same Jayne Nelson who’d taught the first two accounting
sessions he’d attended. The glasses and the slicked-back hair
momentarily threw him.
But the dazed look was one with which
he was disagreeably familiar. Being a retired model and coming from
a family of models, Garrett was well aware of his appearance and
its effect on people.
Most women stared when they first
encountered Garrett Charles. Since the time he’d become aware of
girls and women—sometime after they’d become aware of him—Garrett
had been the recipient of women’s stares. Depending on the woman,
eye contact might be anything from a quick assessing survey to
stolen glances accompanied by giggles to frankly admiring gazes,
which he preferred to the impersonally professional studies that
were a part of his business. Rarely, however, was a woman in danger
of going into shock the way Jayne Nelson was.
He’d assumed they were past the
staring stage, but apparently not. Pale-faced, she hadn’t blinked
since Waterman had announced him. Assuming a pleasant expression,
which he was prepared to hold until she recovered, Garrett advanced
into the room.
“The Charles family incorporated some
time ago as Venus, Inc., a modeling firm. Their executive manager
has resigned and the Charleses want Pace Waterman to take over as
they expand the business.”
Jayne’s eyes never left his face,
Garrett noticed and doubted she’d even heard Waterman’s summary of
his situation.
He sighed inwardly. Years of training
allowed him to keep his face in a bland mask until staring females
realized what they were doing. Embarrassing them served no purpose
except to make everyone feel uncomfortable. Unfortunately Jayne’s
boss didn’t have the benefit of that training.
“Jayne?” A perplexed Waterman glanced
from her shocked expression to Garrett and back again.
“Yes?” Her voice sounded thin and
reedy.
“Are you quite well?”
Jayne blinked and her face and throat
flamed in great patchy blotches. “Yes. I... was just concentrating.
You caught me off guard.” She made as if to push herself away from
her desk and knocked a computer diskette to the floor. She ducked
under the desk to retrieve it.
“Is now a bad time? I don’t want to
disturb you.” Waterman was all solicitousness but Garrett knew he
was really saying, “Get your act together, woman! An account with
huge potential is on the line here!”
Jayne knew, too. Her face got even
redder and Garrett battled disappointment. He’d hired Pace Waterman
solely to work with Jayne. In spite of her rattled behavior around
him, he enjoyed watching her as she tackled accounting, a subject
she obviously liked, and wanted those in the class to like, too.
He’d even enjoyed the other night when she’d gotten carried away
and lectured right through the break. Imagine loving numbers that
much. Unfortunately he hadn’t been able to apply the lesson to his
own books and had been irritated to discover that she’d no longer
be teaching the class.
George Windom, Venus’s longtime
business and financial manager, had tendered his resignation and
was gone before Garrett could hire a replacement. He’d hoped Jayne
could be that replacement, but now, watching as she stood, he
decided to request another accountant. A male. But not the one who
was now teaching the class. Garrett was on the verge of suggesting
he return at another time, when Waterman launched into an
unnecessary introduction.
“Garrett, this is Jayne Nelson, one of
our top accountants.” Waterman may have added the last bit to
remind himself as well as demonstrate his support of Jayne. “But,
of course, you two have already met.”
“Yes, yes, we have. Already- met. He
was in my class. Or the class that was mine, but currently is
Bill’s,” Jayne babbled to Waterman, who was now looking at her with
real apprehension.
Visibly steeling herself, Jayne turned
her head and met Garrett’s eyes, thrusting out her arm across the
desk, presumably to shake his hand.
They never completed the ritual
because Jayne knocked over her pencil holder scattering pencils,
paper clips and pens over the surface of her desk.
“Oh—!”
Garrett couldn’t hear what she said,
but suspected it wasn’t anything profane. Jayne didn’t look like
the swearing type.
Grabbing for the pens that rolled
toward the edge, Garrett deliberately knocked into her stacking
file baskets, collapsing them on one corner and sending the files
over the side.
Jayne sent him a stunned look—a
different stunned look.
“I’m sorry. And here I was trying to
help.” he announced cheerfully, including Waterman in his
smile.
Mr. Waterman’s lips parted, but no
sound emerged.
Jayne scrambled around her desk,
banging her shin. Garrett winced at the sound.
“My, dear!” exclaimed Waterman
ineffectually.
“I’m fine!” Jayne squeaked, grabbed
her leg and hobbled a few steps before sinking to the floor at
their feet.
Setting his briefcase well out of the
way, Garrett stooped to help her gather the files.
“Let me help—”
“I’ll just get these—”
They both reached for the same folder
and their fingers brushed together.
Jayne jerked back as though she’d
touched a live coal and quickly sprang to her feet—too quickly. On
the way up, she banged her head on the desktop
overhang.
Gasping, she rubbed her temple,
smearing herself with blue ink and dislodging her glasses, which
clattered to the desk.
A flabbergasted Waterman stared at
her. “Jayne?”
“Are you all right?” Garrett
asked.
Jayne stopped rubbing her head,
leaving a patriotic red and blue against her white skin. “In spite
of evidence to the contrary, I’m fine.”
Garrett was caught by her naked brown
eyes. He’d seen those eyes alight with her passion for numbers,
sparkling when someone in the class would involuntarily exclaim,
“Now I get it!” He also remembered her embarrassed sympathy when
she bashed him with the cart. And of course the mesmerized stare
with which she’d greeted his entrances to the conference
room.
But he’d never seen her eyes dark with
selfcontempt the way they were now.
Garrett knew that if he asked for
another accountant after what had just happened, Jayne would
suffer, maybe even lose her job. After only a few minutes of
conversation, Garrett knew Waterman was of the old school of
businessmen who resisted the influx of women. Jayne probably was
their best accountant, male or female. She’d have to be to have
progressed as far as she had with the company.
And so Garrett smiled reassuringly at
Jayne, earning a melted chocolate look in response. He turned to
Waterman and offered his hand with more success than Jayne. “Thanks
for your time, Mr. Waterman. I’d like to coordinate my calendar
with Jayne’s and then I’ll stop by your office before I
leave.”
“Yes, do stop by.” Waterman looked as though he
didn’t think it was a good idea to leave a new client with the
self-destructive Ms. Nelson, but couldn’t argue in the face of an
obvious dismissal. To Jayne he said, “You have ink on your
face.”
Jayne mewled in distress, grabbed a
tissue and rubbed at her temple, so Garrett followed Waterman to
the door and closed it behind him.
With huge eyes, Jayne watched his
progress back to where she stood in front of her desk.
Contemplating his next move—and he had
no doubt the next move was up to him—Garrett stopped in front of
her. Perhaps the direct approach would be best. “Ms.
Nelson...Jayne, do I frighten you?”
“N-no.” Jayne supposed it had been too
much to hope that Garrett would ignore her peculiar behavior or
attribute it to a momentary, and uncharacteristic, clumsiness. No,
he had that darned book cart incident for reference. She fit the
leg of the file basket back into the holder. At least he had his
clumsy moments, too.
While she repaired her baskets,
Garrett had stooped to gather the scattered files. “I don’t
frighten you?” he asked, standing and giving them to
her.
“No.” Jayne spoke more firmly this
time. Fascinate, yes, frighten, no. She plopped the papers into the
basket, determined to treat Garrett just as she would any other
client.
Garrett studied her a moment then
contorted his face and took a sudden step toward her.
Jayne yelped.
“Time for you to switch to decaf.” He
grinned.
“Why did you do that?” she demanded,
her heart still racing.
“If you’re going to be so jumpy, you
ought to have a real reason.”
“That’s not a real reason,” Jayne
grumbled returning to her chair.
“Sure it is,” he said cheerfully. “You
never know when I’m going to do it again.”
“You’d deliberately scare me
again?”
“Maybe.” He looked at her, flinched,
and Jayne started. Garrett laughed. “And maybe not.”
Jayne held her hand over her heart.
“Okay, you’ve made your point.” An unorthodox method, but
surprisingly effective. Jayne presumed it was because her body had
used its entire store of adrenaline during the past five
minutes.
Garrett pulled over one of the tweed
club chairs from the conversation area by the sofa. “Are you always
this nervous, or just when you’re around me?”
“Just around you,” she admitted,
surprising herself and apparently Garrett. as well.
“Interesting.” He leaned forward, his
whole body folded attractively, as though he were posing for an
advertisement. “Why is that?”
Jayne knew exactly why, but it didn’t
bode well for their future business relationship for her to tell
him. “Well, you stare at me all the time” Better to go on the
attack. But perhaps a different attack would have been more
effective.
“I ... stare at you?” he asked, staring at
her.
“Yes.” Weak. Jayne. Really weak.
“I’ll have to remember not to do
that,” he murmured, averting his eyes to look down at one manicured
hand.
Or at least Jayne assumed it was
manicured. She, herself, had never had a manicure. Too much bother.
Besides, she was always snagging her cuticles when she searched
through files. She curled her fingers in her lap and tried to deal
with the fact that the epitome of masculine pulchritude was sitting
on the other side of her desk.
“I was disappointed when you stopped
teaching the class.” He picked at a thread in the piping on the
chair arm.
“You were?” He was?
Still avoiding her eyes, he nodded.
“I’d always intended to hire an accountant and business manager to
replace George, the man who resigned.” Garrett glanced up, then
back down quickly, making Jayne feel guilty for accusing him of
staring. “I still can’t believe he’s gone. He was like a member of
the family. Then, when he left so suddenly, I found myself trying
to make sense of the firm’s financial records.”
The part of Jayne’s brain that wasn’t
occupied with drooling over Garrett noted what he said and flagged
it for further study.
“I’ve studied business and managerial
accounting, but I must be rusty because I still can’t figure out
what George was doing.” He gave her an endearingly sheepish
smile.
“Oh, it’s my fault,” Jayne protested,
responding to his dimples. “I shouldn’t have given you so much to
absorb during the second class.”
Garrett shook his head. “You’re a fine
teacher.”
“I am?” she breathed, losing herself
in his gaze.
“Yes.” He smiled and Jayne
shivered.
“But,” he continued, reaching into his
breast pocket and removing an agenda, “I’d like to go over some
points in your bookkeeping lecture again. I’m determined to
thoroughly understand what’s been going on at Venus before I turn
over the records to anyone else.”
Which was exactly why Jayne
volunteered to teach the courses she did. People gave too much
leeway to the business professionals they hired. She hated making
decisions on behalf of clients who didn’t understand the risks or
the benefits of a particular action. She relaxed a bit. She and
Garrett were going to get along just fine.
Of course, it would be best if they
conducted most of their business over the phone so she wouldn’t be
distracted by his eyes and lips. And jaw and cheekbones. And the
cleft in his—
“When would be a convenient time for
us to meet?” He clicked a gold pen and waited.
Annnnytime. “Uh, now is fine. I’m not busy.”
Jayne punched the memo on the Magruder report into
oblivion.
“You’re sure?” At Jayne’s nod, he
returned the agenda and pen to his breast pocket and reached for
his silver metal briefcase. “I brought Venus’s most recent ledgers.
Maybe if you used those as an example, I could figure out the rest
of it myself.”
“Okay.” Jayne swiveled in her chair
and grabbed her calculator. Usually, when a client brought files,
Jayne would move to the sofa where they could spread everything out
on the coffee table. But just before she mentioned moving, her eye
caught the brochure with Garrett’s picture inside. It was the only
brochure on the table.
No need to panic. She’d simply move
the brochure aside, preferably before he noticed. And even if he
did notice it, there was no reason for him to suspect that she’d
been mooning over his picture like a teenager with a celebrity
tabloid.
“Why don’t you bring the books over
here where we can spread out,” she suggested, hoping she could at
least walk across the room without tripping. She. ought to be able
to, since she was still wearing her tennis shoes.
Garrett followed her to the leather
sofa, which Jayne approached without incidence. She reached for the
brochure.
“Going on a trip?” Garrett picked up
the brochure before Jayne could. “My last modeling job is in
here.”
“Really?” Her voice sounded too high.
She cleared her throat.
“Yeah, in the promos for the cruise
line. I got a nice little trip to Mexico out of the shoot.” He
started to thumb through the brochure when it opened right to the
page of the people lounging around the swimming pool.
Jayne wanted to disappear. Instead,
her legs gave way and she sat on the sofa with a smack, listening
in embarrassment as the air hissed out of the leather
cushions.
The instant the magazine fell open to
the pool picture, Garrett knew the brochure hadn’t been on Jayne’s
office coffee table by chance. She was obviously embarrassed about
being caught with it and wanted to pretend that she didn’t know
about his picture.
He didn’t know why; he wouldn’t have
minded her commenting. But for her sake, he’d pretend nothing was
out of the ordinary. In fact, maybe if he deglamorized modeling to
her, she wouldn’t feel so in awe of him. He sat on the sofa next to
her, feeling her tense, and spread the advertisement open. “It was
freezing outside when we took this shot. In fact it was so cold, we
had to hold our breaths so there wouldn’t be little white clouds in
the photographs.”
“You did?”
Garrett nodded and pointed to dock
buildings in the background. “Computer retouching got rid of the
Christmas decorations.”
“But you’re in swim trunks. Weren’t
you cold?”
“Yes, but it was supposed to be fun in
the sun, so we had to look like we were having fun.” He smiled.
“It’s worse to model winter wear in the heat, though.”
“Why don’t you stick with the right
seasons?”
“Magazine lead times run months in
advance. Ad campaigns start even before that. We shoot Christmas in
July and Father’s Day at Christmas.” He closed the brochure and set
it aside. “But thank God I’m out of that end of the business
now.”
Jayne’s eyes widened. “Didn’t you like
being a model?”
He’d hated being a model, but in his
family there was nothing else. He’d grown up in a world in which
he’d been judged by the smallest details of his appearance. The
right look guaranteed prosperity. The wrong look meant
unemployment. Photographers and advertisers cared only about the
way he and the other members of his family looked, not who they
were. They were merely props used to sell a product
It had taken him six years to
extricate himself. Six years to convince his family that he could
run and expand the agency. And now he was going to have to trust
the business acumen of the young woman sitting next to him. She
deserved an honest answer to her question. “No,” he said quietly.
“I didn’t enjoy being a model.”
“Why not?”
Their thighs were touching. Jayne
wondered if Garrett noticed. She noticed. She was afraid to breathe
in case the slight movement made him shift away from her. If only
there were more nerve endings in thighs. Even the nerve endings in
other parts of her body were petitioning to become thigh
nerves.
And she and Gamett were talking.
Together. An actual conversation where Jayne asked pertinent
questions. Not profound questions, but she wasn’t gaping at him or
knocking something over. In another few minutes, he might realize
she had a brain. She hoped he liked brains.
It’s not your
brain you want him interested in.
Where had that hideous, but
regrettably correct thought come from? She’d been hanging around
Sylvia too much.
“Modeling isn’t the glamorous
profession everyone believes it is.” He smiled a brief, perfect
smile and turned to the records he’d brought. “Remind me and I’ll
tell you all about it sometime.”
Oh, right. Back to work. He was paying
for her expertise, not to have her make goo-goo eyes at him.
Annoyed with the unprofessional direction of her thoughts, she
scooted a couple of inches away from him and tried to focus on the
ledgers. She’d ask about his computer equipment and backups later.
“This seems fairly straightforward... where have you been having
difficulties?”
Garrett leaned over to point to a
column of figures bringing his face to within inches of hers, but
Jayne, after an initial jolt, managed to concentrate on what he was
saying. “This is our gross income.”
“Yes.”
He flipped to the next section. “These
columns tell where it went. Therefore, when I add all the expenses
columns together, it should equal the income, right?”
“Not necessarily,” Jayne began. “It
appears your former accountant was escrowing a percentage...” She
set her calculator on the table and jabbed in some numbers.
“Twenty-seven percent here... thuty-three percent on this deposit,
probably for taxes.”
“I know. But I added that into
expenses and compared it with receipts...or tried to. The total
amount never completely agreed with the bank
statements.”
Jayne leveled a look at him. “It
either agrees or it doesn’t. Incomplete agreement isn’t a
choice.”
He looked as though he wanted to argue
the point, but didn’t. “Then the numbers don’t agree.”
“So we’ll make them agree or find out
why they don’t.” Jayne spoke with complete confidence. This was her
turf and one she knew well. “Perhaps there’s been a simple math
error, or numbers have been transposed. But since your former
accountant knew he was leaving the books for someone else to take
over, I would expect him to reconcile all accounts prior to his
departure, making math errors unlikely.”
Garrett’s expression tightened.
“You’re saying it’s my fault I can’t understand these numbers? That
they’re beyond
me?”
“Of course not.” Jayne was surprised
at his tone. She’d obviously hit a sore point with him. “I’m merely
posing possible explanations and ranking them in order of
probability. Under these circumstances, a math error is least
probable. Therefore, we should focus our efforts on a more likely
reason for the discrepancy.”
He weighed her words, taking several
moments before nodding. “Sorry I jumped on you. George—Windom, the
man you’re replacing—George never wanted to explain the business
side of Venus to me. Told me it wasn’t necessary for me to know.
Maybe he didn’t think I could grasp the complexities of his job.”
Gairett’s words held a subtle challenge. “Unfortunately, in my line
of work, I’ve run into too many people who doubt my mental
capabilides.”
Jayne’s brow furrowed.
“Why?”
Garrett blinked at her, then a slow
smile spread over his face lighting his eyes with an emotion Jayne
couldn’t read. She could see his gaze dart over her face, as though
he was acquainting himself with details of her appearance he hadn’t
bothered to notice before now. “How do you propose to solve the
discrepancy problems?” he asked after a moment.
Feeling unsettled, Jayne was glad to
have something to say. “By first making certain we understand the
method your accountant used.”
“Very diplomatically
put.”
He never answered her question, but
Jayne sensed that something had changed between them. As she
reviewed bookkeeping procedures with Garrett, she noticed that he
was looking at her in a different way. A layer between them had
been removed and she’d never even known it was there.
“It’s obvious you understand
accounting procedures,” Jayne said after their discussion. “Now put
that understanding into practice. I suggest that you take Mr.
Windom’s final report and try to re-create it.”
“He didn’t leave a final
report.”
“What?” This did not bode well for the state
of the books.
“He just—” Garrett spread his hands
“—left.”
“Without...” Jayne belatedly
registered the underlying hurt she heard in his voice. “And he’d
been with you how many years?”
“Ever since my parents resumed
full-time modeling when I was fourteen. So...sixteen
years.”
“Your parents modeled?” Jayne asked as she
calculated his age.
Garrett nodded. “Still do. And my
sister and brother, Sasha and Sandor. They’re twins. You may have
noticed them in ads lately?”
Jayne shook her head. She wasn’t much
for fashion magazines.
“They really do look a lot alike and
they’ve played that into a nice career.”
“Do they look like you?”
He lifted a shoulder. “There’s a
family resemblance. Anyway, they filmed several commercials when
they were younger, but when they hit thirteen and grew about two
feet overnight, their modeling careers took off. They’re more
successful than my parents and me put together. And
that’s when we
incorporated. It was cheaper to hire one full-time booking agent
for all of us than pay commissions to another agency.”
He must have had a very interesting
childhood. One about as different from Jayne’s quiet, middleclass,
only-child background as could be. “I don’t suppose you ever
conducted an outside audit of your books?”
Garrett shook his head before she
finished speaking.
Of course they wouldn’t have asked for
an audit, she thought. From what Garrett had told her, this George
Windom had been practically one of the family. It wouldn’t have
occurred to them to suggest an audit. But it should have occurred
to their manager. He was in a position of enormous trust—and
enormous responsibility. An outside audit would have protected both
parties. Even so, there was absolutely no excuse for the man
leaving without a final reconciliation. “I apologize on behalf of
my profession.” There didn’t seem to be anything else she could
say.
“Don’t blame George,” Garrett said. “I
turned down all the bookings he’d made after the cruise job. I’d
told him I was quitting, but he obviously didn’t believe me. But I
had plans for the company and he must have resented having one of
us in the office calling the shots after so many
years.”
“Maybe he thought you didn’t need him
anymore.”
“Of course we needed him. I can’t run
the entire operation by myself.” Garrett stacked the ledgers into
his briefcase. “George never gave me a chance to discuss his role
in the company with him. Three weeks ago, I walked into my office
and found his letter on my desk. His home phone had been
disconnected. I don’t even know where to send his final
paycheck.”
Jayne skipped asking about family or
relatives who might know Mr. Windom’s whereabouts. It wasn’t any of
her business. However, the state of the books was. “Garrett, this
all sounds very ominous.”
“No, no.” He shook his head. “I know
where you’re going and you’re wrong. I think George is trying to
show us how much we need him. He’ll be gone just long enough for
things to get in a real mess, then come riding in to the
rescue.”
Jayne tapped the briefcase. “Things
are in a mess now. You can’t make the books balance. And if you
can’t...” She drew in a breath. “Well, I don’t have a magic
calculator.”
Garrett stood. “I’m going to give it
another try. But whether he returns or not, I still want you to be
Venus’s accountant and bookkeeper.” As he spoke, he offered a hand
to Jayne, which she took, impressed by the small courtesy. “George
will act strictly as a booking agent. Since we’re signing on more
models, he’ll have plenty to do.” With a squeeze, he released her
hand.
At that moment, a foot pushed open the
door. “Jayne, it was your turn to get coffee. But since you’re
always working so hard and since I’m such a wonderful friend, I—” Sylvia got that far
before she spotted Garrett.
Jayne watched her go slack-jawed as
she stood stock-still, a cup of coffee and a white paper bag in
each hand.
Beside Jayne, Garrett, too, had gone
still, his face arranged in a polite smile. As the seconds passed,
Jayne’s gaze darted from Garrett to Sylvia and back to Garrett
again, watching for his reaction. It was as though time stopped
until Sylvia blinked.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you
were busy.” Nevertheless, she advanced into Jayne’s office, her
eyes on Garrett.
“I was just leaving,” Garrett
murmured.
“So soon?” Sylvia gave an artificial
little laugh that made Jayne’s eyes widen in horror. “We’ve only
just met.” Her gaze flicked to Jayne. “Or were about
to.”
Jayne’s tongue stuck to the roof of
her mouth. “Garrett Charles, this is Sylvia Dennison, a friend of
mine. Garrett is my client, Sylvia,” Jayne added with a look her
friend missed, since she was busy telegraphing “I’m available” to
Garrett.
“Coffee?” Sylvia oozed forward and
offered him one of the cups she held. Probably
Jayne’s.
Garrett swiftly checked his watch.
“It’ll have to be some other time.”
“When?” Sylvia gazed up at
him.
“Sometime when I’m not on my way to
another appointment.” Garrett smiled briefly, then turned to Jayne.
“I’ll call you after I go over the books again.”
This time, his smile was warm and
bracketed by dimples.
She heard Sylvia sigh.
“Let me know when you’re ready for me
to take over,” Jayne said and walked him to the door.
“I’ll do that. Thanks, Jayne.” Another
dazzling smile and he was gone.
Jayne took her time shutting the door
so she could watch his progress down the hall.
“Oh...my...God.” With a squeal, Sylvia
collapsed onto the sofa. “Ohmygod, ohmygod.” She fanned herself
with her hand. “He’s gorgeous! How can you stand being near him and not ripping off all
your clothes and screaming ‘take me now’?”
“I have been having a little problem with
that,” Jayne murmured, but Sylvia wasn’t listening.
“Look at me.” She held out her hand.
“I’m shaking. Shaking.”
Jayne was torn between relief to know
she wasn’t alone in her reactions to Garrett and envy that Sylvia
felt so free to express hers. And express she did.
“He’s the one, Jayne.”
“Mr. Right?”
“No, silly. The man to make me forget
everything. I want to live with him in a dirty garret in a foreign
country. I want to exist on bread, wine, cheese and hours of
meaningless sex.” She closed her eyes on a sigh. “I want to be his
love slave.”
Except for the dirty garret part, it
all sounded appealing to Jayne.
Sylvia bolted upright. “Do you think
he linked me?”
I hope
not.
“When he said ‘sometime when I’m not
on my way to another appointment,’ was he sincere? Or was he just giving me the
brush-off?”
“I think he was just being
polite.”
“No.” Sylvia shook her head. “He was
looking at me.” She tapped
her chest.
“Because you were standing two inches
away from him.”
“I...” Sylvia’s mouth opened and
closed. She narrowed her eyes. “You’re jealous.”
“I am not!”
But she was. How absurd. There was not
even a remote chance that plain Jayne Nelson would ever be Garrett
Charles’s love slave.
“I didn’t think you were interested in
him. If you want him for yourself, say the word and I’ll back
off.”
Good old Sylvia, actually thinking
Jayne had a chance. “No...he’s all yours.”
Sylvia dived into her white bag and
withdrew her usual muffin. “Promise me that if he calls, you’ll
give him my number.”
“Sylvia, I think he’s got your number
already.”
“Promise!”
“Okay, okay.”
“I mean, it’s not as though I haven’t
tried to fix you up with anybody,” she said and began picking out
the nuts. “Vincent is trying to get extra time off so he can take
you out.”
“I don’t want to go out with your
second cousin.”
“Sure you do—we can double date. You
and Vincent and me and Garrett.”
Jayne sighed.
By the time Sylvia left, Jayne was
feeling decidedly cranky. She finished composing her memo on the
errors in the Magruder report, e-mailed a copy to Bill, and
concentrated fiercely on the rest of her work so that she’d be free
should Garrett call. She didn’t expect him to, but with Sylvia the
barracuda after him, she felt she ought to do
something.
She just didn’t know what or
how.
It was late afternoon when her phone
buzzed and she answered it to hear Garrett’s molten voice on the
line.
“Jayne, I’ve got a problem,” he said
immediately after identifying himself.
“You found the reason for the
discrepancy in your books?”
He made a harsh sound. “No...I found
that all the checks I’ve written on the agency account have
bounced.”