He braked the car to a screeching halt at the curb, and she got out after speaking a terse “Thanks.”
“A couple of hours?” he asked.
“Fine,” she said, and slammed the door behind her.
Barry didn’t improve her mood. There were a few shoppers in the store, but they were being helped by his effusive sales staff. The moment he saw Rana come in, he grabbed her arm and hurried her to the rear of the store and into his office. Unlike the immaculate and serene shop, which was decorated in soothing pastels, his office was cluttered and cramped and reeked of acrid tobacco smoke. He faced her, folding his arms in a gesture of disapproval.
“My Lord, if anything, you’ve gotten worse.”
“Don’t start in on me, Barry,” she said, hanging Mrs. Rutherford’s skirt on a hook and collapsing into the only available chair. “I’ve already had a helluva morning.”
“You look positively wretched.”
“Thanks. That’s the point. I wish to remain anonymous, something you make almost impossible by displaying a poster of that underwear ad in your lingerie section. How could you, Barry?”
“Because it sells panties, dear heart. Dozens of them. Believe me,” he said, sliding appraising eyes over her with obvious distaste, “no one will recognize you. In fact, I shall do my best to keep you hidden. If my customers saw their idol, Ana R., they’d throw up their hands and scream. They may envision you as an eccentric artist, an image I’ve intentionally promoted, but they wouldn’t want to know you’re a ragpicker.”
“Do you have a diet soda?”
“Yes,” he said, opening a small refrigerator tucked under a sagging shelf, “but don’t get too comfy. We have loads of business to discuss. By the way, the skirt is fab.” He had lifted the plastic bag and inspected it. “Mrs. Rutherford will be absolutely giddy.”
An hour and a half later, Rana stood up to leave, with a new idea to consider and a hefty check and four orders in her purse. “Luckily I have a supply of silks and cottons I got on my last visit to that warehouse,” she told him. “Be sure to have your seamstress send me a list of the customers’ measurements next week. The ones she personally takes, not the ones they submit themselves. Ladies tend to fudge in their own favor.”
Barry took hanks of Rana’s hair in each of his hands and pulled it back away from her face, holding it there as he studied her. “Ahh, just a glimpse of the old Rana. Why not let me send you down to Neiman’s salon and have your hair and makeup done? Then I’ll deck you out in that new Ungaro collection. Or I have a white silk jersey Kamali that’s perfectly Rana. Do some floor modeling for me today, and my sales will soar. It would be good for both of us.”
She shook her head, and he released her hair, regretfully watching it fall back to cover her classic cheekbones. “No, Barry.”
“Will you ever go back to doing what you do better than anyone, love?”
“Morey wants me to.” She told Barry about the two-year contract she’d been offered. “I haven’t decided whether to accept it or not.”
He sighed. “Are you happy this way, Rana?”
“Happy?” Had she ever been happy in her life? Was anyone? “I’m content. I think that’s the most anyone can ask for.”
Not wanting to become too maudlin, she kissed him, thanked him again for the orders, and assured him she’d think about his latest innovative idea. Once out in the mall, she realized that she hadn’t specified a place to meet Trent. She didn’t have long to ponder her dilemma, because she spotted him walking around aimlessly, occasionally stopping to watch the ice skaters gliding across the center rink.
He was so very attractive. Each time she saw him, she was mildly surprised all over again by how much he appealed to her. He wasn’t bulky and massive like professional football linemen, but his muscles filled out his jacket and slacks. His clothes fit to a “T” and were well tailored, though casual. She liked the way his dark hair waved naturally, flirting with the tops of his ears and his collar. He was wearing opaque sunglasses, probably to keep fans from recognizing him.
She made her way toward him slowly, glad for the opportunity to study him without his knowing it. When she was still a fair distance away, he turned his head in her direction. He must have seen her instantly, because he began wending his way toward her through the crowd.
“I’m sorry, Ana.” He spoke the words in a breathless rush as soon as he came within hearing distance. “What I said was-”
A harried lady shopper bumped into him from behind. Taking Rana’s arm, he guided them out of the flow of foot traffic, placing her between him and the wall. She had to angle her head back in order to look at him. He took off his glasses and tucked them into the breast pocket of his coat. His dark eyes were troubled.
“What I said in the car just before you got out, well, it was unforgivable,” he said. “I didn’t mean it. I was just so damn mad. ”
“You don’t have to apologize, Trent.”
“Yes, I do. These are for you.” He thrust a bouquet of daisies at her. “I wanted to get roses, but they were sold out. Forgive me? Please.”
Tears filled her eyes as she stared wordlessly into the cluster of daisies. She lowered her face, nestling her nose among the dewy petals. She had been sent flowers often. Extravagant arrangements of roses and orchids had come from counts and corporate presidents. None had ever meant anything to her. This small, unpretentious bouquet of humble daisies was the most precious gift she had ever received.
“Thank you, Trent. They’re lovely.”
“I had no right to speak to you like that.”
“I provoked you.”
“Well, anyway, I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted.”
The mall was crowded. Shoppers hurried past them. Still they didn’t leave their spot. He continued to stare down at her.
“Have you been waiting long?” he asked.
“No. I saw you from across the atrium.”
“I was so mad I didn’t even tell you where to meet me. ”
“That’s all right. We found each other.”
“Yes. We found each other.”
As he continued to gaze down at her, her words took on a deeper meaning. He inched closer. His hand came up to rest against her cheek. He whispered her name. Then he lowered his head and pressed his lips against her cheek.
Rana stopped breathing. She didn’t move. The daisies, which she was holding against her chest, were crushed between them. She heard the crackling of the green tissue they were wrapped in and felt the damp petals against her arms.
But it was the man who captured most of her awareness. He smelled like summer sunshine and a masculine fragrance. She wanted to nuzzle his warm neck and breathe deeply of his scent. His lips went from cool to warm against her cheek. His breath, rapid and unsteady, whispered across her face. Only a supreme act of will kept her from flinging her arms around him and never letting him go.
He hesitated, as though trying to make up his mind about something; then he stepped away. “Let’s get out of here,” he said, taking her arm and leading her through the mall.
“How is your shoulder?” she asked once they were in the car and negotiating traffic again.
He laughed. “You’ve asked me that several times already.”
“And I never got an answer. What did the doctor say?”
“He said that by the time I go off to summer training camp, I should be in great shape.”
“ Trent, that’s wonderful,” she said enthusiastically, tamping down a wave of sadness that came with his news. When he left for camp, he’d be leaving her life for good.
“I guess the rest and relaxation is starting to pay off.” He grinned across at her. His smile showed brilliantly in his darkly tanned face. “Hungry?”