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“I’m not standing in a damn department store window. I’m too out of shape.”
“Bull. You should have never left the business.” Trudie glanced at Dallas’s hands again. “Your nails suck, but other than that you’re every bit as pretty and—”
“I’m twenty-nine.”
Trudie’s mouth twisted wryly. “There’s that.”
Dallas stood. “Moot point. Are we doing dinner or not?”
“Look, my career’s on the line here.” Trudie hesitated. “I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate.”
“Have you even tried to find someone else?”
“Yes. I swear.”
Dallas sank back into the chair. She believed her. Trudie wasn’t one to ask for favors. Even after her jerk of a boyfriend had moved out along with half of Trudie’s furniture and the next month’s rent, she hadn’t asked Dallas or Wendy for a thing. Hadn’t accepted anything that was offered either.
“Come on, Dallas. As soon as Starla gets over her virus or whatever, she’ll call and you’ll be off the hook.”
“I’m not on the hook.”
“Oh, God, are you going to make me beg? Do I have to get down on my knees?”
Dallas sighed, knowing she was going to regret this. “Okay,” she said slowly. “How long do I have to pose and what do I have to wear?”
Trudie’s smile faltered. “Come on, let’s go have a drink or two first.”
“Trudie…”
Her friend got up from her desk, grabbed her purse and headed out the door. “I’m buying.”
Dallas followed. She was not going to like this. Not one bit.
ERIC HARMON PAID THE cabdriver and got out near Sixth and Lexington. No sign of Tom. He checked his watch. Traffic had been surprisingly cooperative, and he’d apparently beaten his friend to the rendezvous point a block from their office where they both worked for Webber and Thornton Advertising.
He squinted up at the twentieth floor and counted four windows from the corner, which was Tom’s office. The light was still on. But of course, so was the light in Eric’s office, two over from Tom’s, and Eric had no intention of returning to work. Not today. He was too beat.
They really should’ve met at Pete’s Grille, he realized. After the meeting he had just left, he could really use a double scotch about now. He checked his watch again, moved out of the way as a horde of pedestrians left the crosswalk and headed for him, then withdrew his cell phone from his suit jacket pocket.
“Put that away. I’m right behind you.”
He turned toward Tom’s voice and slid the phone back into his pocket. “I need a drink.”
“Me, too.”
Eric looked down at the briefcase his friend was holding. “Since when do you take work home?”
Tom shook his head, his expression grim. “I don’t care how bad your meeting went, be damn glad you weren’t in the office this afternoon.”
“Great. Tell me it doesn’t have to do with the Mercer account.” The advertising business could be a bitch. When you bonded with the client, you were on top of the world. But then there were those times when you thought about ordering a one-way ticket to Siberia.
“I’m not talking work until after I have a scotch.” Tom stepped back, accidentally bumping into a short blonde in a khaki suit. “Excuse me.”
At his dimpled smile, her irritation promptly vanished. “No problem.” She returned the smile, laced with a brief but obvious invitation.
Eric sighed. “Come on, Romeo. Let’s get to Pete’s before your wife calls and tells you to get your ass home.”
Tom gave the blonde’s swaying rear end a final appreciative look before turning toward Fourth Avenue. “Speaking of wives, since you don’t have one—” Tom said as if it were a crime “—who are you taking to Webber’s annual thanks-for-the-job-well-done-but-you’re-not-getting-a-bonus party?”
“Who says I have to take anyone?”
“Unspoken rule, my friend. You always show up and you don’t show up alone. The guy’s old school. He thinks everyone should be married and settled by the time they’re thirty. A mark you’ve already bypassed. Besides, didn’t you get the picture after the Christmas party? He didn’t like it that you were the only one flying solo.”
Eric scoffed. “That attitude’s not only ridiculously antiquated, it’s illegal.”
“Tell him that.” Tom’s head swung around after a redheaded jogger in a skintight green tank and running shorts who’d passed them.
“And then there are some guys who just shouldn’t be married.”
“What?” Tom glanced at him and laughed. “Only looking, pal. Only looking. Something you should be doing more of.”
Frankly he didn’t know how Tom did it. Juggle a wife, a successful but demanding career and an active and strategic social life. Of course, Tom’s first putt in life came with a handicap. Prominent Westchester family. Ivy League education. No student loans to repay. A wife with an impressive social pedigree.
Must be nice. Eric wouldn’t know. His background was Pittsburgh blue-collar all the way. Of his entire extended family, he’d been the first to graduate from college and escape a life sweating in the steel mills.
“Seriously, Eric,” he continued, “when was the last time you brought someone to a company function?”
“Why are we discussing this?”
“Tell me when and I’ll drop it.”
“Why would I subject a date to one of Webber’s boring parties?” He was about to cross the street when the light turned red. Normally that wouldn’t stop him, except a stretch limo came barreling around the corner from Lexington.
“See? Good reason to get married. Then the girl’s gotta go and be bored.”
“Right.”
Tom elbowed him. “Check out the blonde at three o’clock. The one in the red stiletto heels.”
Eric casually glanced in that direction. “Not bad.”
“Not bad? Are you nuts? That one could put you in intensive care for a month.”
Eric started to cross the street as soon as the light changed. Two cabs ran the red light and honked at the pedestrians who’d entered the crosswalk. Across the street several other cabs blasted their horns for no apparent reason. You’d never know the city imposed a three-hundred-fifty-dollar fine for unnecessary honking.
They’d barely made it across Fifth Avenue when Tom started in again. “Okay, I want you to point out your idea of the perfect woman.” He gestured toward the mass of people, mostly women in suits and running shoes, coming toward them. “You have a wide variety right here.”
“What is with you today?”
“Humor me.”
Eric shook his head in disgust, at the same time catching sight of a department store window display, taken aback by the realistic beach scene. Sand, sun, a threatening wave that looked as if it were about to crash over two incredibly lifelike mannequins and then right through the window onto the sidewalk. Computer generated, obviously, but realistic enough to earn some gasps from the crowd of onlookers and send an older couple back several steps.
Remarkable as the special effects were, what caught his attention was the blond mannequin in the red bikini. She looked so damn real. And perfect. Long honey-blond hair, sexy blue eyes, full lips that formed a tempting bow. And man did she have legs….
“Are you listening?” Tom got in his face.
“What?” Eric hadn’t realized he’d stopped. Right in the middle of the sidewalk, blocking everyone’s way. People muttered curses and stepped around him. “No.”
He looked back at the window. At the mannequin. She was amazing. Incredible. Too bad that kind of perfection could only be synthetic.
Tom followed his gaze just as another wave swelled threateningly, and he ducked. Clearly realizing his foolish reaction, he straightened and glanced around. Several other onlookers had done the same.
“Damn, that’s amazing.”
Eric nodded. “Genius. Pure genius. Look at how many people the window’s attracting.”
“No shit. This should earn someone a nice little bonus.”
Eric shook his head. Lately with Tom it was always about money or women. As if he needed to worry about either. “Let’s go.”
“Wait. No more changing the subject. You have an assortment of lovelies right here. Blondes, brunettes, redheads.” Ignoring a sharp look he received from a well-dressed older woman who’d obviously overheard, he gestured toward a group staring at the window. “I’m not moving until you choose one.”
Eric shrugged and turned to leave. “I’ll say hey to everyone at Pete’s for you.”
Tom snagged his coat sleeve. “Come on.”
Eric sighed. His gaze went back to the mannequin, to the tiny beauty mark at the corner of her lush mouth. “Her,” he said with a jut of his chin.
“Who?” Tom scanned the group of women close to the window. “Which one?”
“There.” Eric barely contained a smile as he fixed his gaze on the mannequin. “She’s perfect.”
It took Tom a moment for it to register and then he laughed. “Why, because she can’t talk?”
“A big bonus, you have to admit.”
“I’ll give you that.” Tom studied the mannequin. “Great legs, too. I wonder if she’s busy this weekend.”
Eric shook his head and headed across the street. “I’m gonna go have a drink. You do what you want.”
Tom started after him when he heard the crowd gasp. He turned just in time to see the two mannequins throwing their hands up as if frightened by the wave, and then they repositioned themselves, again going perfectly still.
The crowd began murmuring and talking excitedly, loud enough that Eric turned around to see what was happening. Tom took off after him.
“What’s going on?” Eric asked.
“Nothing. Another wave.” Tom shouldered him, urging him to keep walking. “Let’s go before my keeper calls.”
Tom could barely contain himself. This was rich. Totally awesome. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do yet, but the opportunity for something really big was there.
Like Saturday night—the company dinner. God, this was too perfect.
In his excitement, he nearly tripped over his own feet.
All he had to do was keep Eric away from that window for the next two days.
2
TEN MORE MINUTES. FIFTEEN tops, and the store would be closing, judging by the steady stream of shoppers exiting the Fifth Avenue doors. She could do this. Wait fifteen minutes before she sprinted to the bathroom. Dallas simply had to stop thinking about how her bladder was ready to explode.
Even though she’d purposely laid off the coffee and Cokes made available in the dressing room, the knowledge that she was stuck in the window and couldn’t leave was enough to make her desperate for a pit stop. One five-minute break in four hours just didn’t cut it. She and Trudie were going to have a serious discussion tomorrow.
Dallas heard her partner’s stomach growl and used every ounce of self-control to keep a straight face. Steve did an admirable job of remaining impassive himself, and she kept her gaze fixed on the fire hydrant across the street. It was easier that way, to focus on one particular object until the soft beep told them it was time to change positions. Besides, making eye contact with anyone in the crowd outside wasn’t a good idea. Made it much harder to keep a straight face and not blink.
She’d almost blown it earlier. Two yuppies had stopped and stared, obviously more interested in her bikini than the window display. The taller one had caught her eye with his dark wavy hair and light eyes and a tanned face with a deep cleft in his strong chin that had a way of sending her thoughts in a dangerous direction.
The announcement came that the store would be closing in five minutes.
Freedom. Hallelujah!
She and Steve exchanged a brief glance.
That’s when she noticed him. Approaching the window. One of the guys she’d seen earlier. Not the good-looking one with the dimpled chin but the shorter one.
He stopped dead center and stared at her intensely, thoroughly, as if she were a museum exhibit. She tried not to move, not to give any sign of acknowledgement. Then he mouthed something to her, but still she refused to focus on his lips or try to understand what he was saying.
Panic knotted her tummy, and she tried to disguise the deep unsteady breath she took. Just what she needed—some pervert following her home later. She’d have to duck out the employee door, maybe even get Steve to share a cab with her.
The guy walked up to the security guard, who stood at the door making sure no one slipped inside, and the two men shook hands. They apparently knew each other, which brought Dallas some relief.
Behind her, Trudie’s assistant opened the door to the window, at the same time dimming the display lights, a signal it was over. They were free. At least until tomorrow night. She and Steve looked at each other. He smiled. She groaned. Of course, he looked as if he were barely out of his teens. His back and legs probably didn’t ache as hers did.
“You okay?” he asked, his incredibly pretty blue eyes clouding with genuine concern. Nice guy. Idaho born and bred, he’d only moved to the city six months ago. He’d change. They all did.
“Terrific.”
“You look awful.”
“Thank you.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.” He actually blushed as he stepped aside to let her out first.
She grinned. Too bad he wasn’t older. “Aren’t you a little stiff?”
His brows rose in surprise. “Why?”
“Never mind.”
