“Yes, sure,” Jayne mumbled, intent on getting back to the office as soon as possible so she could spend the rest of the afternoon staring at a shirtless Garrett. Maybe if she stared long enough, she’d get over him. He was only a man, for heaven’s sake.
But it didn’t work, probably because Garrett was no ordinary man. All staring at his pictures accomplished, other than making her fall behind in her project schedule, was to make her nervous about that evening’s class.
She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t chance another disaster. She’d find somebody else to teach the rest of Accounting for Small Businesses. Somebody who wouldn’t turn into a bundle of lusting nerves at the sight of Garrett Charles. Somebody like...
“Bill, think of this as an opportunity to acquire new accounts.” Jayne spoke in her most mentorlike voice. “I’ve been analyzing your performance during the first half of this fiscal year, and I believe you’re ready to handle one of the recruitment classes.”
“You think so?” The expression of doubt Bill had worn since Jayne first broached the subject of teaching her classes faded.
Jayne leaned a well-padded hip against his desk and crossed her arms over her chest. “People equate age with experience—”
“That’s why you dress the way you do,” Bill interrupted, nodding his understanding.
“What do you mean?” Jayne straightened and looked down at herself. “What’s wrong with the way I dress?”
“Nothing. It’s very effective. Isn’t that what I said?”
“Effective for what?”
“Jayne.” Bill grimaced with impatience. “Clients look at you and see that you’re all business.” He gestured with his hand. “Suit, shirt and tie equals business.”
“Oh.” Jayne was placated—
“Nobody would ever guess you’re as young as you are.”
—until that crack. She gritted her teeth.
“So you think these classes are a way I can nab some new accounts?” asked the oblivious Bill.
“Yes,” Jayne assured him with less enthusiasm than before. “Since you’re young and inexperienced,” she enjoyed pointing out, “this is a way to demonstrate your competence to potential clients.”
“Could be cool.” Bill nodded to himself then announced, “Okay, I’ll do it, but I can’t tonight—”
Jayne panicked. “You have to! I mean, I have plans.”
“Oh?” He drew out the syllable and eyed her speculatively. “What sort of plans?”
“Private plans,” she said with an edge of desperation.
Bill raised an eyebrow and Jayne felt herself flush. “So it wasn’t strictly my stellar performance that prompted this burst of generosity?”
“I...” Jayne gave up. “Not entirely, no, but I wouldn’t have asked you if I hadn’t thought you were ready,” she said in a version of the truth she hoped he’d accept.
But Bill had already figured out that he had the upper hand in the negotiations. Jayne had trained him too well. “Sorry, but no can do tonight, Jayne. And next Tuesday is iffy. The Magruder report, you know.”
Jayne knew. All fledgling accountants filled out the tedious and much-loathed monthly Magruder report, biding their time until they could palm it off onto someone with less seniority.
“You’re welcome to find somebody else to finish your session if that’ll be a problem.”
There was a gleam in Bill’s eyes that Jayne didn’t like. She drew a deep breath. “No, I’ll teach tonight and research the raw data for the Magruder. This was short notice for you anyway.”
“You’re sure?”
Anything to get out of this class. “Definitely. I’ll have the course materials on your desk by noon tomorrow.” The little weasel.
Just knowing that tonight was the last time she’d have to struggle to compose herself in front of Garrett Charles was enough for Jayne to settle down and do some actual work. Her confidence restored, she planned to lecture on bookkeeping, her favorite subject. She’d give the most detailed, information-laden lecture in the history of Pace Waterman seminars. She’d leave Garrett Charles overwhelmed by her brilliance.
But when Jayne strode confidently into the conference room, Garrett was conspicuously absent.
Deflated, she waited as long as she could before reluctantly beginning her lecture. Her best subject and he was going to miss it. He’d forever remember her as the bumbling, frizzy-headed—though that was entirely Sylvia’s fault—Pace Waterman accountant.
At seven-fifteen, Garrett slipped into the room Or tried to. Dressed in a severe charcoal suit, with white shirt and dark tie, he looked utterly stunning. As one, the female students sighed audibly.
“Sorry I’m late,” he murmured. “I had a prior engagement.”
Jayne’s hormones leaped at the word “engagement.” No! You can’t have him! they shouted. We want him! We want him! and she had to calm them down by telling them that engagement didn’t mean approaching marriage in this sense.
Of course while she conversed with her hormones, she was staring at him again. And realizing this triggered the hyperventilation and sweaty palms with which she was becoming so regrettably familiar.
Nevertheless, she sucked in her stomach, wiped her palms, held her breath and launched into the fabulous bookkeeping lecture she’d prepared. “I recommend the double entry method of keeping track of your income and expenses. Here’s why...”
“Sylvia, I was brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!” Jayne hugged herself the next morning, then snatched the chocolate doughnut out of Sylvia’s hand and whirled around her office.
“You’re always brilliant.” Sylvia sat on Jayne’s couch and peeled the plastic cover off her coffee cup. “That’s why I hang around you. I keep hoping some of your smarts will rub off on me.”
“But you don’t understand.” Jayne bit into and hurriedly swallowed some of the doughnut. “This time I was brilliant brilliant. You should have seen their faces. The class hung on every word. There wasn’t a sound out of them, not even when I forgot the eight o’clock break.”
“You talked for two solid hours?”
“Yes! I was fantastic.” Jayne returned to her desk, opened her coffee and emptied it into her favorite thermal mug. “When they left, everybody was real quiet and thoughtful.”
“Are you sure they were awake?”
Jayne frowned. “Of course. They were digesting everything I’d told them.”
Sylvia picked the walnuts out of her whole wheat apple muffin and dropped them into the ashtray. “You think maybe you gave them too much to eat?”
“Hardly. I could have gone on for another two hours.” Jayne sipped her coffee to keep from running over and whisking the ashtray out of Sylvia’s reach.
“Then why aren’t you?” Sylvia asked and bit into her muffin.
“Why aren’t I what?” Jayne asked crossly. If Sylvia didn’t like nuts, why did she always get the same muffin? Why not blueberry? Why leave nuts in Jayne’s ashtray all the time?
“Teaching two more hours. Why’d you get Bill to finish your classes?”
“He’s got to learn sometime.”
Sylvia popped the last of her muffin into her mouth and brushed her