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