“Uh-huh. Screwed.” Then Paul paused. Ken knew what was coming. Paul was tall, dark and baby-faced cute. Not exactly handsome, but a man who looked and dressed the part of a marketing executive. And if one of them was going to charm Ali, then it would probably be Paul. “Do you want—” Paul began.
“No. Absolutely not. You stay quiet.” Both of them were startled by the vehemence in his words.
“Ooo-kay.”
“Let me sink or swim on my own here.”
Another long pause. “You know you’re not being entirely rational, right?”
Ken had no response to that. Of course he wasn’t being rational. But apparently, he didn’t care. Especially as Marilyn’s office opened up and out she came with one sharp-taloned hand gripping his Guinevere’s arm.
Ken shot to his feet, yet another mistake (number five) as his chair nearly flopped to the floor behind him. Fortunately, Paul had fast hands and grabbed it. Get a grip! Ken ordered himself. But it was hard to hear his own thoughts over the pounding of his heart.
The conference-room door opened and the ladies entered, Guinevere first. Ken searched her face, hoping for a clue, but he saw nothing that reassured him. Her face was composed, her eyes were alert, but there was a general air of wariness about her. And no wonder. She probably thought he was a total sleaze.
Time to start being charming. He pulled on a smile.
“Hello, Miss Flowers. I’d like to—”
“Flores.”
“—apologize. I must have sounded like a…What?”
“Flores. My name is Ali Flores.”
“Oh.” He could have sworn Marilyn said Flowers. Great, now he was really screwing up. “Um, I apologize. For getting your name wrong and for acting like a lunatic earlier.”
She smiled, a soft curving of her lips that did not show teeth. It was a reserved smile, and he found he liked her all the more for it. It softened her face without bowling him over with a polished exterior. It made her feel more real, and he found himself relaxing at the sight of it. She was a normal person. Hopefully, she understood that he was a normal guy—one who made mistakes.
Then Marilyn had to spoil the mood by hauling out a chair and strong-arming Ali into the seat. “Excellent! Now that that’s out of the way, let’s sit down and talk details.”
Ken bristled. He had a Neanderthal reaction to seeing anyone manhandling his queen, even if the man-handler was a woman. But before he could say anything, Paul leaped into the breech. Great, his employee got to be the hero before Ken could do more than glare.
“You know, Marilyn,” Paul said, “I believe I need to go over the contract with you in detail. We’re not signing anything until I get a few questions answered.”
“But what about—”
Paul took Marilyn’s arm and physically pulled her off Ali. “I’m in charge of the contract part. My boss is in charge of the campaign and the company as a whole. So you and I are going to talk turkey somewhere else. Now.” Then he all but shoved Marilyn out of the room. He was half a step out of the door when he somehow managed to grab hold of Elisa. “You, too,” he said. Then he glanced back at Ken and shot him a wink. “Sink or swim, buddy.” Then he was gone.
Ken released a slow breath, beyond grateful to finally have Ali in the room alone. But right on the heels of that relief was the knowledge that it was all up to him now.
He tried another smile. “Okay, so now they’re gone.”
She nodded, but didn’t speak.
“So we’re clear, I wasn’t trying to hire you as a prostitute or anything earlier. I thought you were a model. I was trying to book you—”
“I know,” she interrupted. “I figured that out.”
“Oh, good. Because I was afraid…” He swallowed. Stay on track. “So I’d like to hire you as a model. But you work at a hospital. Then Marilyn said…well, she said your name was Flowers.”
Ali grimaced. “She wants me to change my name.”
“Don’t you dare!” Then he flushed, belatedly realizing that he had no right to tell her to do anything with her name one way or the other. “I mean, Flores is a great name. And Flowers is a stupid one.”
Her lips curved a little more and her eyes seemed to sparkle. “Don’t you like flowers?”
Was she teasing him? He didn’t know and so he didn’t know how to respond. “Um, well, sure, they’re pretty and all. And you are, too, so, you know, Flowers would be okay if you really want it. But I don’t think you should change who you are. Unless you want to change your name. I mean—”
She laughed, that soft chuckle that pressed every damn happy button he had. Then she pressed her hand to her mouth and her eyes widened. “Oh, sorry,” she gasped.
“For what?”
“I, um, I shouldn’t have laughed like that.”
“No, you should have. I’m falling all over myself today. I’m sorry. I’m trying to impress you and doing such a damn bad job of it.”
Again her laughter bubbled up, though he could tell that she was still trying to hold it back. “That’s so funny,” she murmured.
“Yeah, I get that a lot,” he drawled. Usually when he tried to impress a girl. Once again he was choosing sink over swim.
“No, no!” she exclaimed. “It’s funny that you’re trying to impress me.”
He frowned. “Why wouldn’t I try to impress you? You’re beautiful and charming. And I want to hire you to be my Guinevere.”
She sobered and her expression showed true confusion. “But why? Why would you want me?”
And wasn’t that just the question of the hour? Paul had asked that, Marilyn, too. He gave the same answer that he’d given them. “Because you fit the part. You’re real.” He gestured to the stack of model photos on the table. “They’re not.”
She tilted her head, and he nearly lost himself in the curve of her neck as it met with a nice jaw, swooping up into a perfect shell ear.
“I bet if you’d met them, they’d be real, too.”
He snorted. “I have met them. Every single one of them paraded before me all morning. I only have to talk to them for half a minute to realize that they’re…well, they’re just like Marilyn.”
Her eyes widened. “Which part? Mad Marilyn where she decides my name should be Flowers? Or Scary Marilyn where she tells me I’ve got a dead-end job and that there’s nothing special about me unless I take classes from her and lose weight?”
“Don’t you dare!” Then again, he remembered that he didn’t have the right to tell her what to do and not do. “I mean,” he hastily amended, “don’t take classes from her. She’ll turn you into one of them.” He touched the nearest model photo and pushed it to the opposite side of the table.
“But I should lose weight?”
“What? No! You’re fine! And I can’t wait to see you in a corset.” Oh my God, had he just said that? “I mean…I think you’d look great in a…but not in a skanky way, you know. It’s the costume…And you’re beautiful in just what you’re wearing.”
She laughed. “I got it! Guinevere wears a corset.”
Thank God. She could understand his babbling. That was a plus as he seemed to be babbling a lot right now. And he really needed to stop. So he took a deep breath and decided to go for broke.
Sink or swim.
“Okay,