They’d walked away from each other once and it hadn’t worked out so well. It was time to try not walking away.
He pocketed his phone and stood.
“You should give me a key,” he suggested when she met up with him as he strode toward the elevator.
“In case you want to make a middle-of-the-night visit to your wife? Because I’m totally okay with that.”
He chuckled and stuck his palm against the open elevator door so Meredith could enter ahead of him. “Because I’m paying for the room. I might as well use it to make private phone calls instead of letting everyone in the lobby hear about Lyn’s strategic plans.”
Why was he so against resuming their relationship? It wasn’t as if she was asking him to stay married—that wasn’t what she wanted, either. Once she got herself established in a career, then she could think about whether she actually wanted to get married. Some women—like Cara—dreamed of nothing but white dresses and bouquets, but Meredith had never thought marriage was all that great of a goal.
Figuring out how to be a grown-up was the scary, frustrating can’t-see-the-light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel quandary Meredith couldn’t dig her way out of. That goal felt as out of reach as it had two years ago.
She stuck her tongue out at him and fished the extra card key out of her purse, then handed it over. “Seems like a waste of a good hotel room to me. Sorry you had to hang out in the lobby, sugar, but perhaps you should have told me to expect you and I would have been here,” she said without a trace of irony.
She hadn’t heard from him all weekend. Not that she’d expected to.
He waved it off and followed her to her room. “I was in the neighborhood, so I came by to go over all the arrangements I’ve made for you at Hurst House.”
“Already?” Her throat got a little tight as this Machiavellian deal of Jason’s got real.
What did she know about being a spy, in a fashion house or otherwise? The people at Jason’s father’s company would see through her instantly. If she failed at helping Jason get his plans back on track, would he refuse to sign the papers to spite her?
She should have gotten more of this established before she agreed. Actually, she should have told him no and demanded the divorce. But she well remembered how destroyed he’d been over the company splitting up, and she did have a little bit of fault in the marriage becoming legal in the first place, though how the paperwork had gotten submitted still baffled her. Her father’s lawyer guessed that someone filed it on their behalf, probably a well-meaning hotel maid, but they’d never know for sure. Too much time had passed for anyone to remember.
She felt horrible about her part in it, and if she wished to prove she wasn’t actually a scatterbrain, this was her opportunity. She couldn’t abandon Jason. Adults took responsibility for mistakes and accepted consequences. Period.
“Yeah, already.” His eyebrows went up. “You think I have time to waste? Avery doesn’t rest, and she’s too smart to underestimate. She’ll have alternate plans in place in hopes of upstaging me. I can feel it.”
“So what am I going to be doing?”
“You mentioned the other night at dinner that you’d been working as a designer’s assistant. So it was a no-brainer to put you in that same role at Hurst House.”
“Just like that?”
She would be working for a God-honest designer. If it was that easy to get a job working in the fashion industry in New York, could she have been doing it all along?
Her throat opened a little. At least she didn’t have to learn a whole new job to be Jason’s spy.
Except working with Cara was miles and miles away from working with an established clothing label. Cara loved her and if Meredith occasionally messed up, it didn’t feel like the end of the world. That’s why buying into Cara’s business was so important. It wasn’t like Meredith could work with just anyone. It was the only opportunity available to her.
“Just like that. After I called my mother and asked her to recommend you, she called Hurst House Human Resources and informed them you’d be arriving tomorrow morning. The vice president of HR still has a guilt complex over defecting to Hurst House, so he’d pretty much do whatever my mom says.”
“I see.” How crazy was that? If only the rest of Meredith’s appointed task went so easily. “And that’s it? I show up, help one of the designers and wait around for Avery to stroll by? What if I never even see her?”
Why had she agreed to this again?
“You’ll have to wing it. If you want the divorce badly enough, you’ll figure out how to get the information I need.”
Oh, so that’s why he needed leverage. He didn’t have any idea how this was supposed to go and hoped she’d be desperate enough to figure it out for him.
She snorted to cover her rising panic. “Lucky for you I’m a fast thinker.”
“It’s not luck.” He shot her a strange look. “If I didn’t think you could handle it, I never would have suggested this idea. You’ve got one of the sharpest minds of anyone I’ve ever met and I have no doubt you’ll put your own spin on the assignment. In fact, I’m counting on it.”
He thought she was smart. The revelation planted itself in her abdomen and spread with warm fingers. And of course, that alone motivated her in a way nothing else could. “You got it. I’m gonna be the best spy you’ve ever seen.”
Jason was the only man who’d ever seen past her skin to the real Meredith underneath. She’d never dreamed it would come to mean so much. Being here in his presence again, after all this time, had solidified why no other man did it for her.
But it had also brought home an ugly truth.
In Vegas, it had been okay to be clueless and spill all her uncertainty because Jason was at the same place. He’d grown up after coming home, like they’d planned. She hadn’t. And that seemed to have everything to do with why he was so different.
She wanted the Jason of two years ago. And this unexpected extra time together gave her the perfect opportunity to peel back the layers of this new version of the man she’d married to see if she could find him again.
* * *
By ten o’clock the next morning, Meredith wished for a mocha latte, a bubble bath and that she’d never heard of Hurst House. Allo, the only-one-name-required in-house designer she’d been assigned to assist, hated her. Allo hated everyone as best Meredith could tell.
Allo called for shears yet again—the third time he’d changed his mind about whether he wanted chalk or shears—so Meredith trotted obediently to the table where all of Allo’s tools had to be carefully stored when not in use. Even if he planned to use them in the next five minutes.
She placed the shears in Allo’s outstretched hand and waited for the next round of barked instructions.
“Non, non, non.” Allo threw the shears on the floor and kicked them across the beautiful blond hardwood. “I said pins. Take the cotton out of your head and pay attention.”
“Pins. Coming right up,” she muttered and cursed under her breath as she crossed to the cabinet yet again.
Tomorrow she’d wear flats. And bring cyanide to flavor Allo’s chai tea. Not really, but she’d fantasized about it more than once after being told to remake the beverage four times.
Who was Meredith to question the genius of Allo, who had single-handedly launched Hurst House into the stratosphere with his line of ready-to-wear evening gowns? She’d even been a little tongue-tied when she’d first met him and secretly