For Eric's Sake (11 page)

"Hmmm," he scanned the contents. "Just a notice to appear in court next week. They don't waste time, do they?"

Brandy sighed. She had known already about the court case. That was why she had been in such a rush to get married. "Will you be able to get away from work to go with me?"

"I guess I'll have to." He stuffed the letter back into the envelope and tossed it onto the kitchen counter. "That's my whole purpose, isn't it?"

Her eyes were big pools of tears. As far as she was concerned, that was exactly how she saw Shaw Janus; but stated in such cold-blooded simplicity, she was beginning to see what an insult that could be to a man, especially one as virile as he. "Thank you," she answered, preferring not to confirm or deny his statement which would so easily lead to an argument.

"I'll try to live up to my end of the bargain," he said, "as I'm sure you will."

"What bargain?" Her head jerked up.

"We don't have one yet," he smiled, "not officially, anyway. But we will, before too long." His voice turned brisk before she could protest or question about his statement. "I think I'll leave you for the evening. I have other, uh, engagements to take care of. Don't bother waiting up."

Brandy could have assured him she wouldn't, but she was still so puzzled, and wary, of his last statement about a pending bargain, that she did not utter a word as Shaw collected his coat and keys and left the apartment.

What bargain does he have in mind
? she wondered.
And what price will I have to pay
?

A few days later, after Shaw left with Eric on the way to work and school, Brandy's agent called. Rich's, one of Atlanta's most exclusive department stores, was having a fashion show that day at noon. One of the runway models had sprained her ankle, and Dean Nixon asked Brandy to substitute. She usually jumped at the chance to do any kind of modeling, and this time she particularly needed the money to have another portfolio and composite made. The show would take place in one of the restaurants at the extensive Peachtree Plaza complex, and her job was to mingle with the diners while showing off her outfits.

She was so excited about the job she nearly sprained her ankle in the rush to collect her makeup, curlers and undergarments required for the different outfits she would have to model. She had little experience with this type of modeling, but knew she would have to be there as early as possible to memorize details about the dresses and sportswear she would wear. If any of the diners asked her questions, she had to be prepared with the correct answers, which could earn her a reputation as a reliable model.

Brandy seldom had the opportunity to visit the Peachtree complex. She had, in fact, only wandered through the building once out of curiosity and wonder. The wide, open foyers with cascades of geraniums and vines spilling a distance of one and two stories between floors had fascinated her. She had ridden the escalator in order to enjoy the view, but today she was in a hurry, and not quite certain exactly where she was supposed to go to prepare for the luncheon show.

Luck seemed to be with her when she recognized another model hurrying to catch one of the elevators on its way down. She followed the other girl and soon realized the fashion show would be in the lower level restaurant of the complex called Off Peachtree.

Each of the girls was given five outfits to model, which seemed quite a lot to Brandy as she noticed the size of the restaurant and the zigzagging course laid out between the tables. When she read the card accompanying the first outfit her nerves jangled further. How would she ever remember all of this information, especially if every outfit required such detailing? she wondered. Fortunately, as she was handed a terry sports outfit, another dress and two swimsuits, she found only two of the descriptions would make her feel as if she were reciting the Gettysburg Address.

The first dress was layered in voile, and accented with flounces and little ties. Brandy was glad to be getting that one out of the way. She stepped out into the restaurant wending her way around the tables with a stomach full of butterflies, but by the time she reached the last table and gave her speech correctly and informally, her confidence won out over the nerves.

She hurried into the changing room for the next outfit, a day dress in bold colors and wide stripes, worn with a simple white bolero jacket. She was shocked to find the dress a size too big, but the bolero covered her enough in case one of the straps of the dress decided to stray off her shoulder.

Brandy's confidence was reflected in the way she walked and in her lighthearted voice. Several ladies stopped her to ask questions about the dress, which she was relieved she could adequately answer. One man had her spin around an extra time—so he could see the cut of the dress, he said. If she had not been wearing the semi-concealing bolero, she might have doubted his word.

The terry sports set was next, strapless and chic. The selling point of this particular outfit was the well-known designer, so Brandy finished her speech at each table in record time—but the man at the center table, who had expressed such interest in the last outfit, found plenty to say about it. Brandy was beginning to think twice about his interest, especially when he started to ask how easily it came off.

She stalked away as politely as she could, and hurried to change into the next piece: a flowing caftan of rich hues of blue from turquoise to peacock to midnight, all deftly blended one into the other, with underneath, a shocking-pink bikini.
Mr. Inquisitive is going to love this
, she thought, concentrating on her lines and hoping he wouldn't embarrass her.

She avoided looking in his direction as she emerged, taking little courage in the fact that some of the other girls were giggling about his leering looks: at least it proved he wasn't singling her out. If she took longer at the first table, she could hurry at his to try to make up her lost time, and maybe cut short his delaying remarks in the process.

Because she was avoiding the center table, Brandy didn't notice when Shaw Janus walked into the room and joined her admirer at his table. Shaw was just apologizing for being late when Brandy heard and recognized his voice. Her heart beat faster as she caught sight of him.

Brandy came up behind Shaw's companion and smiled shyly. Her sudden appearance nearly caused Shaw to choke on the water he had just put to his lips. "What the—"

Looking straight at Shaw, directing all of her narrative solely for his benefit, she warmed to her subject. She knew she looked good in the outfit, seductive even, and it was safe to look that way for Shaw—certainly safe with a crowded restaurant of people staring on. She wouldn't dare dress this way if they were alone.

"What is going on here?" Shaw managed to finish his sentence.

"It's a fashion show," Shaw's companion answered. "Quite a selection of desserts, don't you think?" He reached out and patted Brandy as if he had arranged the entire show for Shaw's benefit.

Brandy jumped at his familiarity while Shaw muttered through gritted teeth, "Take your hand off of her, Wayne."

Wayne laughed, his hand still in the folds of Brandy's caftan.

"Please," she whispered, not wanting to create a scene, but resenting the man's hand, and embarrassed that Shaw should see her in such a predicament.

"I said," Shaw repeated, "take your hand off of her."

"Shaw," the man removed his hand, a big grin spreading over his face, "where's your sense of humor?"

Shaw glared at him while Brandy took the opportunity to escape to the next table. Her mind was only half on the description of the caftan as she overheard Wayne say, "The way you're acting, a man would think she was your wife."

Brandy paused in her talk, straining to catch Shaw's answer, but she couldn't hear whether he admitted it or not.

One outfit to go, and it was the most revealing—a "swiss cheese-cut" swimsuit that had barely enough "swiss" to cover her "cheese." The coverup wasn't much of one either—a sheer shortie negligee. She wished Shaw had arrived much earlier and gone already, but she knew as she tucked her hair beneath a floppy straw hat that nothing in the world would get him to leave now. At least she wouldn't have to put up with the other man's pawing, though.

A blush had started on her neck and spread to her face before she even advanced to the second table in the restaurant. Shaw's eyes followed her every movement, and try as hard as she might she found it difficult to avoid his eyes as she modeled the swimsuit.

His own face seemed darker than usual. As little time as Brandy had been with him she still recognized the signal as mounting anger. Well, she was very sorry if he and his friend were at odds because of her, she thought. She had not asked Wayne to manhandle her, and she had not acted impolitely in spite of her acute embarrassment. It would be bad for the store's policy if she did anything but remain calm and pleasant despite any treatment the audience handed out. Shaw had no reason to be mad at
her
for his friend's bad taste.

Lifting her head higher, she glided to their table and forced her most dazzling smile upon them. Shaw's frown deepened, but Wayne's eyes glittered more than ever. "I have to admit," Wayne said after Brandy had delivered her brief description of her garments, "you sure can pick 'em, Janus. If he ever gets tired of you, honey, look me up." He winked at Brandy.

Brandy glanced hastily from one to the other. Shaw wasn't saying a word, but she was certain he would save up enough for the first moment they were alone. She couldn't say she was looking forward to that night—not that she would otherwise have been eagerly awaiting Shaw's arrival.

"How many more of these outfits are you going to… display?" Shaw caught her wrist as she was about to leave their table.

"This is the last one," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She swallowed. "Let go of me, Shaw. It'll throw everyone out of sequence."

"When will you be finished?" he demanded, his thumb massaging the inner softness of her wrist. It only served to make her more aware of him, and more aware of how much of her body he was seeing.

"Whenever all of the other girls finish."

"I'll take you home."

"I have my car." The last thing she wanted was to be alone with him in a confined compartment. "But thank you." It wouldn't hurt to try to appease him with a little politeness.

Wayne interrupted whatever Shaw had intended to say by commenting, "First argument, you two?"

"It's none of your business," Shaw snapped. Brandy was relieved that someone else was getting the benefit of his temper.

She slipped her wrist out of his grasp and continued to the next table, so upset she didn't even realize she was describing the last swimsuit she had worn until the woman glanced up at her and said, "Oh, does this come in shocking pink, also?"

Brandy smiled and edged away, leaving the woman's question hanging in the air. She was still shaking thirty minutes later when the last girl came out of the restaurant and Rich's fashion coordinator began expressing his delight at the success of the show. Brandy was relieved that no one had noticed the exchange at Shaw's table.