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You’d think Gina had an in with the Almighty!
Well, Gib admitted, maybe she did. She was always doing good deeds and helping other people. Maybe that was why everything she wanted for Chloe seemed to be falling into place.
He’d just been standing there by Edith’s desk, telling her that if she wanted to keep Chloe she’d have to find her a place to stay, when the door opened and Sierra, the hair stylist, came in.
“She’s staying?” Sierra sounded delighted. “Your sister’s friend? You’re kidding.”
“I wish I was,” Gib grumbled. “She won’t leave.”
Sierra’s eyes got big. “Took one look at you, did she? Decided she can’t live without you?” Sierra came in to do hair frequently on Gib’s shoots. She knew how many women flung themselves at his feet. She also knew it irritated the hell out of him.
“She’s engaged,” Gib said dampeningly.
Sierra blinked in surprise. Then she shrugged. “You could cut him out.”
“I’m not interested!”
The force of his voice had Sierra stepping backwards. She lifted her shoulders again. “You never are, are you?” It was common knowledge that for all that women threw themselves at Gib, he never chased them. He dated, but never seriously.
“No,” he said firmly now. “I’m not.”
“So,” Sierra changed the subject, “when’s she coming in?”
Gib shrugged. “I told her we started at nine. So we’ll see if she actually shows up. Maybe by today she’s come to her senses. Maybe,” he said hopefully, “she got to thinking about it and went home this morning.”
The door opened. “Who? Me?” Chloe said.
Gib groaned. Partly because she was still there—and partly because she looked every bit as sweet and innocent and delectable as she had the day before. He’d told himself he was imagining it.
He hadn’t been.
She also looked fresh and bright and well-rested—a whole lot better rested than he was. And though her cheeks were rosy, if it was from mortification over yesterday’s disaster, she didn’t look nearly as mortified as he might have hoped.
Actually the blush on her cheeks looked more like brimming good health than lingering embarrassment. She looked like she could hardly wait to get to work.
“I haven’t found you a place to stay,” he told her flatly.
“My sister needs a house sitter,” Sierra said.
Both Gib and Chloe jerked around to stare at her.
Sierra shrugged. “If you need a place to stay,” she said to Chloe, “you can probably stay at my sister’s. She’s having her apartment redecorated this summer. They’re doing a lot of work on it and she’s going out to the Hamptons while they’re working, but she was saying just the other day that she’d like someone to keep an eye on things, be there when the plasterers showed up, that sort of thing.”
Chloe’s eyes lit up. “Fantastic.”
“Hang on a minute,” Gib objected.
They all looked at him. He opened his mouth again, then closed it. What was he going to say? That he didn’t think that the apartment of the sister of a purple-haired stylist was appropriate lodging for a former Iowa kindergarten teacher no more worldly than her students?
“She doesn’t look like me,” Sierra said with a grin, as if she could read his mind. “Mariah is...normal.”
“I didn’t mean that,” Gib began, then stopped. What did he care? As he’d been at pains to point out to both Gina and Chloe, he wasn’t going to be anyone’s keeper. He shrugged irritably. “Fine. Ask your sister.” He jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, then turned away. “Save me the trouble. I’ve got work to do,” he said and stalked off toward the studio.
Footsteps hurried after him. “Wait for me,” Chloe said a little breathlessly.
But Gib didn’t want Chloe underfoot right now. He was entirely too aware of her at the moment. “Go help Edith,” he said. “When Misty gets here she can help me.”
He glanced long enough to see a flicker of disappointment on her face. His jaw tightened. He steeled himself against it. Telling her to help Edith was not the same as kicking a puppy, damn it.
The door to the outer office opened again, and the first models came in chattering. “Hi, Gib!”
“Hi. handsome!”
Gib flashed them standard smiles, then turned a scowl on Chloe again. “Go,” he said. “Didn’t you agree to do whatever I asked you to do?” he reminded her silkily.
She colored slightly. She sighed. She went.
Gib turned back to load film in the camera. Sierra started to work on the blonde model’s hair. Beyond the door he could hear Edith telling Chloe about how she arranged the scheduling.
“Let me make some notes,” Chloe said.
Gib nodded, satisfied. If she had to be here, helping Edith was the best place for her. She could have her time in the city, and she wouldn’t be underfoot.
Now, if Misty would just show up.
He needed her to set up the lights and the reflectors so they could get started as soon as Sierra finished with the models’ hair. He would need her to move things later, changing the lighting while he shot.
He read over the notes the agency had sent. He made some of his own. He started setting things up himself, annoyed.
Edith stuck her head in. “Misty called. She can’t come in today. Something about her planets not being properly aligned.”
Gib stared.
Edith shrugged, a small smile playing around the corner of her mouth. “Apparently she’s sensitive to that sort of thing.”
Gib gave her a steely-eyed glare.
“Shame about that,” Edith said, still smiling. “You could probably use some help.”
Gib could see Chloe sitting at Edith’s desk, talking on the phone to someone, taking notes studiously, her lower lip caught between her teeth. Gib looked at her, then at Edith.
Edith looked at Gib, then at Chloe, then back at Gib.
Damn it, was she going to make him beg?
“I could send Chloe in to help when she’s finished on the phone,” Edith ventured after a moment.
“Do that,” Gib growled.
Chloe came in five minutes later. “What can I do?” she said eagerly.
“Set these up.” Gib pointed to the reflectors. He indicated where. Chloe went to work.
Gib was used to Misty and her predecessors—girls who needed to be directed and prodded every step of the way. Chloe didn’t. Once he told her what to do, she did it. And the next time he needed it done, she did it without his having to say a word. She seemed almost to anticipate his directions. And she didn’t say a word, either. Just worked.
He was amazed.
Chloe took it all in her stride.
And when they’d finished and the models had left, only then did she look at him and beam. “That was fun!”
Misty had never called it fun.
“Yeah,” Gib said gruffly. “Here.” He thrust the camera at her. “Can you load this?”
Solemnly, almost reverentially in fact, Chloe took it from him. While he watched, she loaded film into the camera. “That’s another of your jobs,” he told her.
Just as she was handing it back, Sierra came in. “I called my sister. She’d like Chloe to come over this evening at seven.”
“We’ll be there,” Gib said.
Both Chloe and Sierra looked at him, then blinked.
He scowled. “Gina would want me to make sure it’s the right place for her,” he said. “Don’t stare at me like that. She’s my sister. She doesn’t ask for much!”
“Right.” Sierra nodded wisely.
Chloe gave him a bright, entirely unnecessary smile. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me,” Gib said. “Let’s get to work.”
Naturally Chloe thought Mariah’s apartment was wonderful.
A day in Chloe’s company had shown Gibson the truth of everything he’d feared: she thought the city was wonderful. Period.
“It’s just so...so...alive,” she’d said on the way uptown in the taxi. “Look!” She’d pointed at a man in top hat and tails, playing a grand piano on a street corner. “Wherever you look, you never know what you’ll find!”
“That’s not necessarily good,” Gib had said gruffly.
But Chloe hadn’t stopped enthusing. She enthused about the neighborhood in which Mariah lived. It was on the Upper West Side, not too many blocks above and just a little west of Gib’s own apartment on Central Park West. Not a bad neighborhood at all, he conceded. But not exactly Iowa.
Still, he reserved judgement, going only so far as to say, “I’m the one who’s deciding if it’s all right or not If it’s not, you’re not staying,” just as they were alighting from the taxi.
“What?” Chloe looked astonished.
He took her suitcases and pointed her toward the brownstone whose address Sierra had given them. “You heard me.”
Sierra’s sister, Mariah, was normal. Attractive even, in a slender, long-haired, model-like way. Her hair was brown hair, not purple. Her fingernails were red, not black. And other than tiny studs in her ears, she had no visible body piercings.
Not that Sierra had any, either. But Gib suspected she had leanings in that direction.
Mariah ushered them in and up the stairs. “I’m on the second floor. A floor-through. Everything has been pretty much gutted since I bought it this spring. The building was a wreck when I bought my place. Plaster crumbling. Wallpaper peeling. Ceilings sagging. But it’s down to the bare bones now, and the plasterers are supposed to be starting later this week.”
The apartment faced south. It was, as Mariah claimed, almost cavern-like. She had no furniture in the living room besides a television and VCR and a futon with a brightly colored Indian coverlet and lots of pillows. The kitchen was equally spartan. Appliances, a bar stool and a butcher block stacked with a small assortment of pots and pans and dishes.
“The stove is gas,” Mariah said. “It works. The water runs. Hot and cold. The refrigerator is hooked up. There’s a light overhead.” She gestured at the shop light hanging from the ceiling fixture. “Once they’ve plastered in here, the cabinet maker will begin working. Then they’re going to bring in the counter tops. They might have to shut things off briefly, but for the most part, you shouldn’t have any problems.”
Chloe took it all in wordlessly. Gib had a hundred questions.
Were these workers licensed? Bonded? Responsible? Did they have criminal records?
“Next thing you’ll be wanting to see their high school transcripts,” Chloe said irritably.
“You can’t be too careful,” Gib told her.
“I’m sure they’re very reliable,” Mariah said. She led the way into the bedroom at the back of the apartment. It needed plastering, too. But there was a queen-size bed and another pile of colorful pillows in the center of the room. It looked too big for one person, Gib thought nervously. Would some man talk her into bringing him home to share it? Would her farmer fiancé fly out for weekend trysts?
What difference did it make?
“The plasterers and cabinet maker all worked on the apartment downstairs,” Mariah went on. “It was finished this spring and it’s wonderful. I’ll ask Rhys to show you,” she said to Chloe.
“Rhys? Who’s that?” Gib wanted to know.
“My neighbor,” Mariah said. She pointed downstairs.
“We bought into the building at the same time. He’s done a great job with his place. He has the bottom two floors. Seems a waste when he’s single and hardly home enough to enjoy it.” She shook her head. “He’s a fireman. Goes all over the world putting out blazes. Oil wells, natural disasters, things like that.”
Gib watched Chloe’s eyes get bigger and bigger. He wished Mariah would confine herself to the relevant details.
“What days do they pick up trash?” he asked. “What about recyclables? Is someone checking that all this plastering gets done? Chloe won’t be responsible for it.”
“I’ve made a list.” Manah gestured toward some papers on the butcher block. “I’ve got it all written down, when everything is supposed to happen. It’s not a big deal.”
Gib snorted. Easy for her to say. She was going to be in the Hamptons. It would be Chloe who would be here. What if they were all axe murderers and rapists?
Well, he could hardly ask that. Not in so many words.
Chloe apparently had none of the same qualms. She picked up the list and smiled beatifically at Mariah. “No problem. Sounds like fun. And—” she looked at Gib, eyes shining “—I’ll get to have a real New York experience.”
Mariah chuckled. “That’s for sure.”
“She has a job,” Gib reminded them. “She can’t be here all the time.”
“Oh, she won’t have to be. Rhys can let them in.”
“I thought he was all over the world. Never home long enough to enjoy it, didn’t you say?” And now he was going to let people into the apartment. He had a key?
Mariah waved her hands. “Oh, you know how it is. When he’s gone, he’s anywhere. When he’s home, he’s downstairs. He’ll be home for the next six weeks. I’m sure you’ll meet him in the next few days,” she said to Chloe, and confided, “He’s a hunk.”
