Authors: Sally Falcon
The ringing of the telephone saved Jessie from having to respond immediately. She grabbed the receiver in relief. “Aesthetics, Ltd., Jessica DeLord speaking,” she answered over Gina’s agonized groan of defeat. “Mr. Planchet has been called out of town? I see. Let me check our schedule for a new date for the presentation.” Gina thrust the appointment book into her hand a second later. “How is a week from Monday? Yes, I understand that is a tentative appointment and you’ll confirm by the end of the week. Thank you.”
“So we don’t go up against the big guns for another week. It’s almost a relief,” Gina murmured as Jessie replaced the receiver. “This way we have more time to practice the presentation.”
“It isn’t like you to be nervous. You’re supposed to be the partner with nerves of steel, remember?” Jessie didn’t want to acknowledge the queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Another week before facing T.L. Planchet and his board wasn’t going to help her sleep. Sleepless nights tended to make her think of things she’d like to forget, like being kissed by a very sexy rabbit. The rabbit probably wasn’t losing any sleep over her.
“It’s having to make the presentation to his family as well as the board of directors. The board was in on the initial bid,” Gina explained, a frown marking her patrician features, “but the family could have us redesigning the whole scheme for the new office complex. What if the rest of the family is as eccentric as Planchet himself?”
“If we have to redesign, we’ll redesign. Mr. Planchet said it was only a formality,” Jessie returned in her usual role as placater. T.L. Planchet was renowned for his colorful, larger-than-life personality, though he had seemed to be the personification of a corporate leader during their meetings. “We’ve already met his son, and he approved of what we’ve planned.”
“I suppose if we can make a stuffed shirt like Sanders Planchet happy, the rest of the family shouldn’t be too tough,” her partner grudgingly agreed. An evil smile spread across her lips. “Maybe ol’ T.L. has another stodgy son who could be a responsible and dependable daddy candidate.”
“Cute, Gina, really cute,” Jessie murmured, wondering how long it would take for her to forget about Trevor.
Chapter Two
“It’s now T-minus-five and counting, ladies and gentlemen, before the meteoric launch of the fantastic design firm of Aesthetics, Ltd. to stellar heights.” Gina’s resonant intonation echoed around the rectangular boardroom ten days later. She was occupied with setting up the easel on one side of the room, directly in front of a floor-to-ceiling wall hanging of natural fibers that complemented the tans and browns of the monochromatic decor. The joint owners of Aesthetics, Ltd. had arrived at Planchet Enterprises a good twenty minutes ahead of schedule to prepare for their presentation. “We’re bringing you this auspicious meeting from gavel to gavel so you won’t miss a single thrill-packed minute of this landmark occasion.”
“Will you stop that? You’re confusing me as well as your scenarios, and that’s the worst Walter Cronkite impression I’ve ever heard,” Jessie chided as she smoothed down the straight skirt of her jade suit, though she appreciated her friend’s attempt to distract her from the volcano smoldering in her stomach. Sorting through the drawings, designs, and fabric samples that represented the Planchet project, she acknowledged that this was a landmark day after so many years of dreaming. The Planchet account would be the most prestigious project they had handled thus far.
“Sorry, it was supposed to be Wolf Blitzer,” her partner explained without appearing chastened. “Jeff was snuggled up to the TV again this weekend. This is a man who thinks C-SPAN is a mini-series without an ending. His major fault is twenty-four-hour news programs, for you husband hunters. So, add ‘no cable news watching’ to your list of requirements; it’s worse than being a sports widow, at times.”
“I’m concentrating on textures and colors for now, thank you very much.” That was all Jessie managed before a loud bass voice interrupted them.
“Ladies, darned if you didn’t catch me in my shirt sleeves,” exclaimed T.L. Planchet, his round face creased by a welcoming smile. He gave his gaudy purple-and-red paisley suspenders a deprecating look that was disarming as he crossed the room with his hand outstretched. Neither of the women had expected him to greet them personally, despite the receptionist’s insistence that she announce their arrival.
“Good morning, Mr. Planchet,” both Jessie and Gina chorused automatically before shaking hands with their client. Jessie relaxed slightly under the twinkling regard of his brown eyes. The jovial man before them bore little resemblance to the implacable corporate photograph that appeared regularly in
Arkansas Business
and the business section of the
Arkansas Democrat-Gazette
.
“I think our anxiety is showing by arriving ahead of schedule,” she found herself admitting. There was something paternal about T.L. Planchet at times, she decided as her partner grimaced over her statement. She simply couldn’t be intimidated by a man whose garish suspenders seemed the proper accessory to his charcoal suit pants and blue shirt.
“I admire people who worry about punctuality,” he stated heartily. Glancing at his watch, he continued, “I just wish I had taught my own family better. If I had any takers, I’d bet my bottom dollar that two of my children will be late this morning.”
“Good morning, Father.” Sanders Planchet stepped through the doorway as if on cue. “Ms. DeLord and Ms. Caryle, it is nice to see you again.”
“Mr. Planchet,” they responded in unison again. Jessie refused to meet Gina’s speculative look. Sanders Planchet did look like the epitome of the respectable businessman in his dark blue suit that had clearly been tailored to his stocky figure.
Jessie wasn’t, however, going to let her friend’s impudent sense of humor relax her guard. Usually she liked a round of nonsensical chatter before a presentation, but today was simply too important. Though she’d dismissed Gina’s concern about having to redesign the entire project, she really didn’t want to have to rework weeks of preparation.
“Curtiss called a few minutes ago with his excuses, Father.” Sanders’s grimace and disapproving tone clearly showed his thoughts on the matter. “He claims that he has an emergency to handle at his office. Something about a dog bite.”
His father nodded before explaining. “Curtiss, my youngest boy, is a veterinarian, ladies. It must be serious, or he would be here. He and Sanders are the two offspring who can tell time. Now, I think we should get on a first-name basis, so we won’t get confused with too many Mr. Planchets. If you don’t mind, Jessica and Gina?”
“No, sir,” came the dual reply, which had both women smiling self-consciously at continually answering at the same time. Gina nodded her head slightly for Jessie to take the position of spokesperson.
“That would be fine, T.L.,” she stated clearly, giving him a polite smile as three members of the board were ushered in by his secretary. Two more arrived a minute later as Jessie and Gina conferred one last time.
“Jessica, we’ll go ahead and begin,” T.L. prompted a few minutes later from where he stood next to his seat at the center of the table. Though he hadn’t bothered to retrieve his suit jacket or roll down his shirt sleeves, he was clearly the man in charge. “As I said earlier, my remaining offspring will undoubtedly be late. Your time is too valuable to waste by waiting on them.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced to the seven men and four women seated on the far side of the table, “Jessica DeLord and Gina Caryle are here to show us the final plans Aesthetics, Ltd. has made for our new offices. They’ve discussed the structural plans with Grisham and Collins, and I think y’all will find the results agreeable. Please hold your comments until the presentation is finished. Jessica, let’s begin.”
Jessie took a deep breath, trying not to think of the twelve people facing her as a hanging jury. Flexing her fingers around her chrome-plated pointer she began describing the decor for the new reception area of the four-story structure. Her level of confidence had surged tenfold by the time she finished describing the area, and Gina smoothly removed the first drawing. This was the day Jessie had been looking forward to during those long nights of waitressing while putting herself through college. At thirty, she’d finally earned her diploma and continued to slave away counting the time until she had the experience and financing to open her own firm. She and Gina had arrived at last.
“Daddy, I’m so sorry we’re late. I was on time, but when I picked up Tr—” The dark-haired woman broke
off
as she caught sight of Jessie to her right and gave her an apologetic smile. “Excuse me for interrupting, I should have known T.L. wouldn’t wait for us.”
“I should’ve taken bets, Tory,” her father declared as he waved toward a chair on his right. “Now, where’s your idiot brother?”
“He’s parking the car,” she answered quickly, not disputing his description. As she took her seat, she smiled at Jessie once more, regret shining from her brown eyes.
“Not anymore,” stated an all-too-familiar voice from the doorway that made Jessie childishly want to hide behind the easel or, better still, disappear into thin air. This couldn’t be happening to her; it had to be a bad dream conjured up by Gina’s ridiculous comments about T.L.’s sons. Her only rational thought was that now she knew why Tory Planchet looked so familiar; she’d been at the Bushes’ party, dressed in a turquoise jumpsuit.
“Please excuse our tardiness, but someone who was the designated driver hadn’t bothered to put any gas in her car and expected us to get here on fumes. We wasted precious time changing to my car,” Trevor pronounced, sauntering into the room with easy grace. His winsome smile, directed at those seated at the table, seemed to say he knew they would excuse him as a matter of course. Then he turned his attention toward Jessie. “Ms.—Jessie, my Lady of the Legs.”
Jessie was sure she could hear the proverbial pin drop as he reached her side in three strides. She was sure her body had turned into one great, big embarrassed stone, if stones could blush, she thought irrelevantly. Trevor dispelled her frozen image by taking her hand and easily raising it to his lips. If she’d had the strength she would have clipped him across the chin. In the back of her mind she could remember her father ruining her eighth birthday party by coming home drunk after being gone for months, smiling ingratiatingly and so earnestly apologetic.
“If I had known you were Daddy’s decorator I would have been here an hour early.” He simply stood holding her hand, his thumb gently stroking her knuckles, giving no indication of letting her go or moving from her side.
“Trevor, will you try to act like an adult for a change?” his brother snapped, beginning to rise from his chair as if he would physically put the younger man in his place. “You might be at loose ends during the day, but the rest of us have work to get done. Let Ms. DeLord finish her presentation so she doesn’t think we’re all as mannerless as you and Tory.”
Sanders’s words acted as an antidote for Jessie’s paralysis. She snatched her hand away from Trevor’s warm clasp and stepped back. She hoped she appeared to be conferring with Gina about where they had been when interrupted by the late arrivals. No one else heard her partner’s bemused whisper, “Who is that masked man?”
“Jessie, if my middle son will cooperate, we’ll go ahead with your presentation. Sanders, Trevor, sit.” T.L.’s amused gaze belied his terse words, despite the fact Trevor ignored the chair he had indicated. Instead he dropped with a disturbing grace into the chair directly in front of Jessie as his older brother resumed his seat.
Later she was never positive exactly how she managed to say one coherent word, let alone do justice to the proposal for Planchet Enterprises. All she remembered clearly about the next hour were the speculative looks that went from the man in front of her to her rigid figure by the easel. Of those seated at the table, Tory Planchet seemed the most interested. How much did Trevor’s sister remember about the Bushes’ party?
Ignoring her audience didn’t give Jessie any respite. Whenever she glanced in Gina’s direction her partner was eyeing the man as if he were her favorite dessert—double dipped in semi-sweet chocolate, rolled in cashews, and topped with whip cream. The only person who seemed unaffected in the aftermath of Trevor’s outrageous entrance was Trevor himself.
Like his father, he didn’t appear to be bothered by business conventions. He was dressed in slate-blue pleated slacks, the same blue alternating with gray and brown stripes in his shirt. His suspenders, however, were a conservative brown that matched his knit tie. And Jessie had the urge to snap, “Stop that,” as he crossed his legs and idly swung his ankle from side to side.
His hooded gaze never strayed to the easel. Instead his attention alternated between her face and her body. For one wild moment, she imagined he was mentally undressing her, then ruthlessly dismissed the thought before she created her own mental image of Trevor dressed only in rabbit ears. Thankfully, Gina uncovered the final drawing, of T.L.’s office, a second later.
When she finished, a polite round of applause from the others was punctuated by shouts of “Bravo” from one of the company. Jessie expelled her breath, relieved she hadn’t fainted—yet.
“Jessie, the concept is as delightful as I remember.” T.L. succeeded in drowning out his son with little effort. “Does anyone have any questions or comments?” The question was followed by general murmurings of approval and compliments as the others rose to their feet.
“Are you sure that pink color is going to work in the ladies’ restroom off the lobby?”