Trust Me on This - Jennifer Crusie [27]
But Patience had always been there to catch her. And now she wasn’t. Patience was on her honeymoon so she wouldn’t even be available for bail if Janice got Dennie arrested. A smart woman would pack her bags and head back to Taylor and safety.
Even while she had the thought, Dennie knew she wasn’t going back. Before, she’d been doing a too-easy job without realizing it. Now, she knew. If she went back without the interview, she’d be a failure, even if it was only to herself and Walter. She had to go on, even if she lost her job. Even if she got arrested for stalking. Even if Patience wasn’t there. She was going to have to jump.
“Right,” she said and went to get dressed, but her fingers fumbled with the zipper, and she finally leaned her head against the mirror and took deep breaths until she was reasonably calm again.
Risking was turning out to be a very depressing business.
While Victoria was in the bathroom dressing, Harry unpacked the briefcase, arranging the equipment on the desk so that when she came back everything would be ready. Now that she was gone, he noticed her perfume faintly. It wasn’t flowery at all, more spicy with a hint of something else. It made him nervous, and he fiddled with a microphone until one of the pieces dropped off. Damn good thing he always had spares. Cautious, that was him. Nothing to worry about. He was in control.
Victoria came out of the bathroom and said, “All right, how do we do this?”
Her dress was made of a rosy slippery material that sort of fell over her, Harry noticed. He also noticed that Victoria was trim in some places and full in others; this was a dress that didn’t leave much to the imagination.
He shook his head, trying to stomp on his own imagination. “Nope.”
“What do you mean, ‘nope’?” Victoria put her hands on her hips. “This is a great dress.”
“You can see everything in that dress,” Harry said.
“So what are you, my mother?” Victoria asked.
“No,” Harry said. “I’m the man who has to hide stereo equipment on you. Got anything that doesn’t fit like Saran Wrap?”
Victoria slid open the closet door. “Be my guest.”
Harry went to paw through her clothes. Her perfume wafted out of the closet as he shoved hangers back and forth. She brought more clothes for a weekend in a hotel than he had in his closet back home. That was a woman for you. Good thing he didn’t have to share a closet with her. He clamped down on his thoughts again. “Here,” he said finally, pulling a heavy jacket and skirt out, and Victoria looked at him as if he were insane.
“Harry, that’s a day suit. It’s seven-thirty in the evening. I can’t wear a tweed suit to dinner. He would think I was strange.”
“Lots of people wear tweed suits to dinner at night,” Harry said.
“Yes, and they’re all men.”
“No, they’re not,” Harry began, and Victoria put her hand on his arm and moved him to one side so she could slide hangers back and forth. He checked his sleeve to see if her hand had left a mark; it felt as if it had left a mark.
“How about this?” She pulled out a black dress.
Harry felt the fabric. “Don’t you wear anything stiff?”
“No,” Victoria said. “I’m against stiff.” She grinned. “In fabric anyway.”
Harry handed her the dress. “Go put this on and don’t talk dirty.”
“You know you have a lot in common with my mother,” Victoria said, but she took the dress back in the bathroom with her.
When she was gone, Harry told himself she was impossible. Then