The resignation in her voice tugged at his heart. “Jane—”
“That’s my building on the corner. I’ll get out here.”
“I’ll drive you to the front—”
But she was already out of the vehicle, swinging down to the curb.
“Do you need a ride home?” he shouted, strangely eager to do something else for her.
“No, thanks. Good luck on your case.” Then she slammed the door and took off jogging toward the entrance of her building.
He watched her moving away from him, juggling her oversized shoulder bag, her ponytail bouncing like a teenager’s. Dressed like a coed, she looked young…and alone. And she had wished him luck on his case…even after what he’d said about her, she had tried to be nice.
Were there really people like that left in the world?
A horn sounded behind him, jarring him out of his reverie. He hit the gas pedal and told himself to focus—he was facing the biggest case of his career this morning.
Yet all he could think about on the way to the courthouse was the young woman he had wounded with his careless words. And he realized with a start that he’d like to get to know Jane Kurtz better…if only he could convince her to let him.
4
JANE’S SKIN TINGLED with humiliation as she hurried to her office. She wasn’t sure what was worse—knowing what Perry had said about her, or him knowing that she knew.
And him knowing that his words had affected her.
One thing was certain, she realized when she removed her sunglasses in the makeup room and got a good look at her red, swollen eyes—she was going to have to call upon some major concealer today, or she would spend the day fending off questions from her coworkers.
So she sat down in front of a brightly lit mirror and for the first time in a long time, began to apply some of her expertise to her own face. With a practiced eye, she dipped a sponge into a pot of foundation that was a shade lighter than her skin tone, and proceeded to erase the damage of the night’s tears…if only it were so easy to erase the damage of his words cutting into her soul. His apology had only driven the knife deeper.
Worse, she couldn’t figure out why she had let his words get to her. Because they had so directly fed into her own restlessness of late? Because she was worried that she was doomed to be ignored by everyone around her? To be alone indefinitely.
The appearance of her friend Eve Best for her daily makeup application ended Jane’s musings. “Good morning!”
Eve was the most upbeat person Jane knew—just being around her made Jane feel better. “Good morning.”
“Ready for me?”
“Sure.” Jane stood and gestured toward the chair she’d vacated.
“How was your evening with your remote control?” Eve teased as she sat down.
“Interrupted,” Jane said, shaking out a paper cape to tuck around the collar of Eve’s blouse. “My new neighbor is so loud, he disturbed my entire evening.”
“He?” Eve asked with a smile. “Have you met him?”
“Yes. Once to tell him that his girlfriend was parked in my parking place, and once to tell him to keep the noise down. And…I had a flat tire this morning, so he dropped me off here.”
Eve’s eyebrows rose. “Is he cute?”
Jane shrugged. “I guess so. But he’s also a jerk.”
“Gee, he can’t be too much of a jerk if he offered you a ride to work.”
Jane avoided Eve’s perceptive gaze and instead handed her a headband to secure her hair away from her face. “How were ratings yesterday?” she asked, to change the subject.
Eve studied her with a little frown, then said, “The best ever. I need for today’s show to be strong, too, to keep the viewers we captured yesterday.”
“You’ll pull it off,” Jane said, hoping to soothe the concern she heard in her friend’s voice.
Eve smiled at her in the mirror. “Thanks. But lately I’ve been asking myself why I’m doing this.” She gave a little laugh. “My life would be so much easier if I could just win the lottery.”
Jane laughed. “Mine, too.” She checked the date on her watch. “Hey, maybe we’ll get lucky today.” She proceeded to airbrush a layer of foundation on Eve’s lovely face, but this morning Jane’s focus was compromised as she continually blinked her scratchy, sleep-deprived eyes. More than once she had to switch off the machine and correct mistakes manually.
“You okay?” Eve asked suspiciously. “You look tired.”
“I…didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“Your neighbor again?”
Jane simply nodded, but spared her friend the gory details.
“Sounds like a fun guy,” Eve said slyly.
Jane didn’t respond, but admitted to herself that some of her tears last night had been due to the fact that Perry Brewer was correct in his assessment of her. Not only was she a homely geek, but listening to him pleasure his girlfriend had struck a chord in her—no man had ever given her that kind of physical satisfaction.
He was right. She’d never had a good lay in her life.
“Uh…Jane? Since when do you use green blush?”
Jane gasped at her ghoulish handiwork. “I’m sorry—I’ll fix it.”
“That neighbor of yours sure has you distracted,” Eve remarked.
“Nothing a pair of earplugs won’t fix,” Jane murmured.
Turning her mind firmly away from Perry Brewer and his correct assumptions, she focused on Eve’s makeup and methodically played up the woman’s eyes, cheeks, and mouth. When she finished, Jane styled Eve’s luxurious hair while they chatted about today’s show.
“I just hope that ‘Unleashing Your Inner Wild Child’ appeals to enough viewers,” Eve said wryly. “It sounds a little like a sexual exorcism.”
Jane laughed and removed the paper cape, then stepped back and surveyed Eve’s turquoise-colored blouse. “I have a necklace that would look great with that outfit.”
From the bureau where she kept stock costume pieces, Jane removed a chunky silver and turquoise necklace and clasped it around Eve’s neck. Eve touched the piece and smiled wide. “It’s perfect. You have such a good eye, Jane.”
Jane smiled. “That’s what you pay me for.”
An assistant producer appeared in the doorway. “Bette Valentine is here.”
Eve glanced up at Jane. “And you’re going to earn your paycheck today.”
The women shared a laugh, then Eve heaved a sigh and pushed to her feet. “See you later.”
“Okay,” Jane said, fighting a yawn.
She had just finished cleaning up the vanity area when Bette Valentine sailed into the room sporting her typical tropical muu-muu, garish makeup, clanging earrings, and teased red hair.
“Hello, hello,” the middle-aged woman sang.
“Hello, Ms. Valentine,” Jane said, hoping her smile was stronger than it felt. “I’m Jane.”
“I remember from the last time I was on the show,” the woman said with a smile. “Although I’m not sure why they sent me in here. I did my own makeup already.”
“I’ll