Читать книгу Plain Jane Marries The Boss - Elizabeth Harbison - Страница 8

“This is your chance,” Jane told her reflection in the rearview mirror on the way home. “Tonight you’re going to be his fiancée. It’s up to you to make it real.” She looked at her reflection an extra moment, then turned her eyes back to the road with a laugh. “Right. Not unless I have a fairy godmother that I don’t know about.”

A small, red convertible zipped into the lane in front of Jane, and she had to slam on the brakes of her own sensible American-made compact to avoid a crash. She pulled over to the side of the road and sat, waiting for her pulse to calm down and watching the convertible speed off. All she saw of the driver was long blonde hair flowing in the wind, and a red-nailed hand waving back at Jane.

“Well if that isn’t symbolic, I don’t know what is,” she said to herself and sighed. “I can’t keep up in a red convertible world. Why am I trying?”

There wasn’t even the lightest of winds to answer. Not that she expected one. She already had more answers than she cared to acknowledge.

“You know darn well what you should do,” she said to her reflection again. “You should quit working for Trey and leave. It’s the only way to get him out of your system.” She pressed her lips together and shook her head, now looking inward instead of at the mirror. “But I can’t,” she said softly. “I care too much to leave.”

After a moment of quiet, she put her car into gear and pulled back onto the road.

As soon as she walked in the front door of her apartment ten minutes later, her roommate, Peatie, shouted to her from the bathroom.

“Your boss called.” Peatie’s New York accent was uncharacteristically sing-songy. She walked into the hallway, with huge sections of her bleached-blond hair wrapped in aluminum foil. “Said he wasn’t sure whether you had something you wanted to wear to this fancy schmancy place tonight, so he’s having some things sent over from Neiman-Marcus.” She looked at Jane expectantly. “Neiman-Marcus. So what the heck’s going on?”

“It’s no big deal,” Jane said, a flush of anticipation warming her cheeks. She dropped her purse on the hall table and shrugged. “I just have to go out with Trey tonight and pose as his fiancée.”

“You what?”

“No big deal. All in a day’s work.” She tried to keep a straight face but when she saw her roommate’s astounded expression, she burst into laughter.

Peatie put a hand on her hip. “Okay, okay, you had me going for a minute. Now what are you really up to?”

Jane crossed her finger over her chest. “Honest to goodness, that’s what I’m doing. I can’t quite believe it either. But Trey wants his father to believe he’s engaged, and when the woman who was supposed to play the role canceled, he asked me. Me.”

“You’re serious?”

Jane nodded. “Unless I’m dreaming.”

Peatie frowned, obviously still not convinced. “Why does he want his father to think he’s engaged?”

Jane took her sweater off and hung it on the coat rack. “It’s a long story, but he’s got noble reasons, don’t worry.”

Peatie shook her foiled head, then gasped. “Oh! He said he wanted you to call him if you got in before five-thirty. You’ve got like a minute.”

Jane glanced at her watch. It was five twenty-five. “Thanks,” she said, running to the phone in the kitchen. Was he canceling? No, he wouldn’t be sending clothes over if he was. As she rounded the corner, she slipped and her shoe went flying off, but didn’t bother retrieving it as she was already reaching for the phone.

Peatie followed Jane, holding the shoe out to her. “Lose something, Cinderella?”

Jane laughed and took the shoe, feeling that the analogy was apt. The phone rang five times, and she was about to hang up when Trey answered.

“Trey, it’s Jane,” she said in the calmest voice she could manage. “You called?”

“Did your roommate tell you I was having some clothes sent over?” He sounded distracted.

Jane sat down and coiled the phone cord around her finger. “Yes, that’s really thoughtful of you, but you didn’t have to bother.” She was sure glad he had, though, because she hadn’t even thought about what to wear.

“It was no bother, but I wanted to make sure you didn’t think I was being presumptuous.” She could see him setting his pen down and leaning back in his chair in her mind’s eye, almost as if he was sitting right in front of her. “It’s not that I thought you didn’t have clothes already, I just wanted to make sure you didn’t feel like you had to run out and get something new. Knowing you, you wouldn’t tell me so I could cover the expense.”

He was right. She smiled to herself. “It should be interesting to see what you picked out.”

His chair squeaked and she knew he was leaning forward again, probably looking at things on his desk and getting ready to hang up the phone. “I picked out a professional shopper. She’s picking the clothes. I just hope I got your size right.” He sounded distracted again, and she wasn’t surprised when he went on to say, “Look, I’m on my way out but I’ll see you in a couple of hours, all right?”

He’d see her in a couple of hours. It was almost as if they had a date. “See you then,” she said lightly, and hung up the phone.

“So what did the future Mr. Jane Miller have to say?” Peatie asked.

Jane turned to her with a smile. “He wanted to make sure I wasn’t offended that he was having clothes sent here.”

Peatie snorted. “He can offend me any time he wants to send Neiman’s over.” An egg timer dinged in the bathroom. “Time to rinse,” she said, heading down the hall. “But I want details when I get back.”

Jane was about to go to her room when the doorbell buzzed. She hurried to answer.

When she opened the door, a petite woman stood before her holding several heavy-looking garment bags. “Jane Miller?”

“Yes.” Jane stepped back to show the woman in.

“I’m Ella Bingham,” the woman said, with a warm smile. “Mr. Breckenridge said you’d be expecting me.”

“Yes.” Jane led her into the living room. “Can I help you carry any of that?”

“Oh, heavens no, thank you. I’ve spent years doing this sort of thing.” She laid the bags across the back of the sofa and stood back to assess Jane. “Let’s see now.” She walked around her, looking her up and down. “That Mr. Breckenridge has quite a good eye. What do you wear, a twelve?”

Jane was amazed. “Yes. He told you that?”

Ella shook her head. “I don’t know a man in the world who’s that good. No, he estimated your height and measurements and he did quite well.” She winked. “He must spend quite a lot of time with you.”

“He’s my boss.” She wondered why she felt she had to explain.

Ella nodded discreetly and unzipped the first garment bag with a flair. “Mr. Breckenridge wasn’t sure what sort of fashion you’d prefer, so I brought a selection.” She pulled out a slim red dress with a matching bolero jacket. “He did mention that you remind him of Audrey Hepburn, so I naturally thought of this style.”

“It’s beautiful,” Jane breathed.

Peatie entered the room in a thick terrycloth robe, rubbing her wet hair with a towel. “It sure is. Is that what you’re wearing tonight?”

Jane introduced the women, then said, “I don’t know…” She looked at Ella, trying to savor every delicious moment of this fantasy evening. “Did Trey really say I reminded him of Audrey Hepburn?”

“He certainly did, and I can see exactly what he meant.” Ella gave a demure smile. “Now run along and give this dress a try.”

“I don’t know…”

“Jane, it’s gorgeous,” Peatie said.

“Yes, it is, but it’s so—so glamorous.”

Peatie and Ella exchanged glances and Ella said, “I’ll just pop down to the car and get the shoes.” She flashed Peatie another look. “See if you can’t get her into that dress while I’m gone.”

When she was gone, Peatie turned to Jane and asked, “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, it’s just…look at that dress and then look at me.” She splayed her arms. Did she really have to spell this out? “I’m hardly the model type. I’d look silly in something so…alluring.”

Peatie scoffed and dragged Jane by the arm over to the old, brass hallway mirror. “I hate to break this to you, Janie, but you’re not quite the monster you make yourself out to be.” She wrinkled her nose and studied Jane from her vantage point behind—and about six inches below her. “Actually, I think you’d really be a knockout with a little makeup and hair styling and some different clothes.”

Jane flashed her a look.

Peatie laughed. “Look, I’d kill to have your height and your cheekbones.”

“Come on, I don’t believe that for a minute.”

“I mean it.” Peatie gestured emphatically. “Look at yourself. You’re Beauty, not the Beast.”

Jane’s face grew hot as she looked at her reflection. Was Peatie seeing the same thing she was? “All right, I know I’m not a beast but at best I’m just ordinary.” She moved her gaze from Peatie to her own reflection. “Makeup and clothes aren’t going to change me into a beauty.”

“How do you know?” Peatie asked derisively. “Honestly, I’ll never understand why you always sell yourself so short.”

Jane turned to face her roommate, grateful for the compliment but a realist to the end. “I don’t sell myself short. I know I have other things going for me. But…” She sighed. “You know, my mother was beautiful. I mean,” she gestured at the dress, “that kind of beautiful. I think I was a huge disappointment to her.”

“Oh, Jane. Why would you think that?”

Jane bit her lower lip and allowed herself a moment to dive into the memories she had avoided for so long. “When I was young, she used to dress me in clothes that matched hers, but as I got older she stopped. She marveled at how different I looked from her. Not that she said that was a bad thing, exactly, but I could tell.”

“Come on, you’re jumping pretty far to reach those conclusions.”

Jane gave a quick shake of her head. “It wasn’t just that. After my dad died and Mom went to work, she became quite blunt about how I should emphasize my education and not my looks. She said my intelligence was my greatest asset and not to worry about my appearance.” She turned back to the mirror and looked at the tall, pale woman she saw there. “I know that’s not horrendous, but hearing that from someone who looks like a Hollywood star makes the point pretty obvious.”

Peatie clicked her tongue against her teeth. “Well, if you ask me, your mom didn’t do you any great favors by making you feel so unfeminine and plain. Especially since it’s not true.”

Jane sighed. It was awkward to defend either side of this argument. Fortunately, Peatie didn’t wait for her to.

“But I can help you with that now,” she went on. “Tonight, Cinderella, you’re going to the ball. Best of all, your prince is guaranteed.”

“This may be the biggest mistake of my life.”

Peatie patted Jane’s shoulder. “Believe me, this is a golden opportunity for you. And in that dress,” she gave a broad wink, “I bet I won’t be seeing you back here again until tomorrow morning.”

“Now you’re making fun of me.”

“I am not!” Peatie looked very serious. “Janie, I would never, ever encourage you to do this if I thought you’d get hurt.”

Jane bit down on her lip and glanced at her watch. It was quarter to six. “Okay, I’ll try it.” She picked the dress up and went down the hallway to her room. Her heart pounded at the idea of actually giving this a try. Maybe—just maybe—it could work. Maybe Trey would finally see her in a romantic light. She began to work up some enthusiasm but a tiny dread nagged in her chest. She stopped and turned back. “Peatie, what if I make a fool of myself?”

Peatie shrugged. “What of it? Will you feel worse if you make a fool of yourself trying to get this guy or if you never even try at all?”

“I don’t know.” Her palms were cold and wet. “I honestly don’t know the answer to that question.”

“Yes, you do.” Peatie smiled in a knowing way. Then her voice became crisp and businesslike as she cracked an imaginary whip. “Now try on that dress.”

As she walked through the doors of the Zebra Room, Jane clutched her serviceable black, wool coat closed around her and tried hard to keep believing.

It wasn’t always easy.

But she tried. Peatie and Ella’s enthusiasm had been infectious and she’d left the house in the fire-engine red dress, which, as it turned out, hugged her figure in all the right places, and made her look more lithe and elegant than she’d ever dreamed she could.

“You can’t tell what something’s going to look like until you take it off the rack and try it on,” Ella had said. “The dress doesn’t make you stunning, it’s the other way around.”

“I don’t know,” Jane had answered, still breathless from the dramatic enhancement she’d seen in the mirror. “I still think this is some sort of miracle dress.”

“It’s a few yards of fabric,” Peatie had said, and Ella nodded. “What you’re looking at is you.”

Jane had smiled at that. Perhaps it was true. Somehow she felt more like herself than she ever had before, even though she had thought it would be the opposite. She felt proud and confident, or at least as close to confident as she could come, given that she was still Jane. Anyway, she’d left the house—that was progress.

Now every step she took added a spark to her emotionally charged anticipation. It was like wearing tap shoes on a subway line. What would Trey think? Would he see her as the same old plain Jane she’d always been or would he finally see her as the woman she thought maybe—just maybe—she truly was?

Her long auburn hair was curled into Pre-Raphaelite ringlets that tumbled across her shoulders in an unfamiliar way. She’d talked Peatie and Ella out of the red-red lipstick they’d suggested, but the dusty-rose she wore instead felt just as conspicuous. Plus it made her mouth look huge and pouty. Her lashes, thick and long with black mascara, seemed to stick together for an instant every time she blinked.

And she blinked a lot, because Peatie had insisted she take off her “sex-prevention glasses”, so everything in the distance had a tendency to blur. Her one small concession to herself was that she’d snuck the glasses into the small clutch bag Ella had thrust upon her.

But in her secret heart, she felt great.

She stopped at the coat check. With one final steadying breath, she took off the coat. A cool breeze drifted through the front door. Her legs, covered in the sheerest silk stockings, felt nude. She congratulated herself for having had the good sense to override Peatie’s suggestion that she wear high heels, and instead wore good, solid pumps.

“You can do this,” she told herself under her breath. “You can do it.”

“I beg your pardon, madame?” the maître d’ asked, coming away from his station. The older couple in front of her looked miffed at his abandonment. “Is there some way I can be of service to you?”

It was one of the first times in recent history she hadn’t felt invisible in public.

Panic filled her. She wasn’t sure what to do with herself. “I’m just looking for my party. Thank you.” With the maître d’s gaze still burning on her skin, she turned to rush from the restaurant. This was a bad idea. A very bad idea. There was no way in the world she could pull this off. She’d leave a message for Trey, apologizing. Maybe even resigning.

The door was within reach. She could feel the chilly night air on her skin. All she had to do was get her coat and—

Wham! She slammed into something, or rather someone, at full force and dropped her purse, spilling the contents across the red, carpeted floor.

Jane dropped to the floor in a frantic scramble to pick the contents up, lest someone should see some embarrassing personal item.

“Pardon me,” a familiar voice offered, bending down before her to help pick up the purse’s contents. She saw a head of dark, shining hair before they stood and he handed her glasses back to her. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” With sudden realization, she gave a self-conscious laugh. It was Trey, dressed to the nines in his most flattering dark, navy-blue suit. She’d seen him in it a thousand times, but the sight always took her breath away. The fit was perfection over his broad shoulders and tapered wonderfully to his slim hips without looking like it was trying too hard.

When he looked at her, his gray eyes took on an unusual light. “Have we met?” His voice was smooth and confident, but the thing that struck her was that it held no recognition whatsoever.

Was he joking? “Almost every day for five years.”

His smile froze. His questioning eyes searched hers. “Jane? My God, is that you?”

She nodded and tried not to yank the scooped neckline of her dress up higher.

“Are you sure?”

She frowned. “What?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. It’s just—nothing at all.”

“Am I late?”

“No, not at all.” He looked back at her. “I was early.” Slowly, his eyes wandered over her, from her hair to her mouth down her body and back to her eyes. “You really look different.”

She blinked. “I thought this dress would be okay.”

“It is, it’s…more than okay. I mean, you look terrific.” He shook his head with a long, slow intake of breath. “Just great.” He expelled the breath. “Wow.”

She couldn’t breathe at all. “Thanks.”

He raked his hand across his hair and looked down for a moment. Then he looked back at her with an intensity in his eyes that took her breath away. “So, are you ready to go on with the show?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’ll need this.” He dug into his pocket and took out a small velvet box. He opened it and took out a huge diamond ring. “As of now, you’re my fiancée, so you’d better put it on.” He handed the ring to her.

She took it. It was the largest diamond Jane had ever seen. It even felt heavy in the palm of her hand. “I’m a little nervous about taking responsibility for this.”

“Go on. It’s just for dinner. What could happen?”

She tried the ring on her trembling hand. “It’s a little loose,” she said, noticing how easily it slid over her knuckle.

“We could have it—” Trey stopped himself. “I mean, if anyone were to notice it didn’t fit we could say we were going to have it sized.”

Jane nodded and took a steadying breath. “This must have cost a fortune.”

“Somewhere around thirty-five thousand bucks.” He looked at the ring. “It seems like a lot for a chunk of carbon.”

“How on earth can you afford such a thing?”

He gave a rueful smile. “I can’t. It’s on loan from a jeweler friend of mine.” He hesitated and they both considered the weight of his words. “I’m returning it in a few days.”

“I’ll be really careful.” She let out a pent-up breath. “Okay, what should I do? Come in with you now, or join you in a minute after you’ve settled down? That way, it wouldn’t look like we’ve been standing here plotting.”

He snapped his fingers. “Good point. Yes. I’ll go in now and you come in after me and make some excuse about the weather or something delaying you.”

“Right.”

He caught her by the wrist and looked deep into her eyes. “Are you sure you want to go through with this?”

She nodded solemnly. “I do.”

The words hung before her in the air for several minutes after he’d gone.