The Boss and the Plain Jayne Bride. HEATHER MACALLISTER

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      “Private plans,” she said with an edge of desperation.

      Bill raised an eyebrow and Jayne felt herself flush. “So it wasn’t strictly my stellar performance that prompted this burst of generosity?”

      “I...” Jayne gave up. “Not entirely, no, but I wouldn’t have asked you if I hadn’t thought you were ready,” she said in a version of the truth she hoped he’d accept.

      But Bill had already figured out that he had the upper hand in the negotiations. Jayne had trained him too well. “Sorry, but no can do tonight, Jayne. And next Tuesday is iffy. The Magruder report, you know.”

      Jayne knew. All fledgling accountants filled out the tedious and much-loathed monthly Magruder report, biding their time until they could palm it off onto someone with less seniority.

      “You’re welcome to find somebody else to finish your session if that’ll be a problem.”

      There was a gleam in Bill’s eyes that Jayne didn’t like. She drew a deep breath. “No, I’ll teach tonight and research the raw data for the Magruder. This was short notice for you anyway.”

      “You’re sure?”

      Anything to get out of this class. “Definitely. I’ll have the course materials on your desk by noon tomorrow.” The little weasel.

      Just knowing that tonight was the last time she’d have to struggle to compose herself in front of Garrett Charles was enough for Jayne to settle down and do some actual work. Her confidence restored, she planned to lecture on bookkeeping, her favorite subject. She’d give the most detailed, information-laden lecture in the history of Pace Waterman seminars. She’d leave Garrett Charles overwhelmed by her brilliance.

      But when Jayne strode confidently into the conference room, Garrett was conspicuously absent.

      Deflated, she waited as long as she could before reluctantly beginning her lecture. Her best subject and he was going to miss it. He’d forever remember her as the bumbling, frizzy-headed—though that was entirely Sylvia’s fault—Pace Waterman accountant.

      At seven-fifteen, Garrett slipped into the room Or tried to. Dressed in a severe charcoal suit, with white shirt and dark tie, he looked utterly stunning. As one, the female students sighed audibly.

      “Sorry I’m late,” he murmured. “I had a prior engagement.”

      Jayne’s hormones leaped at the word “engagement.” No! You can’t have him! they shouted. We want him! We want him! and she had to calm them down by telling them that engagement didn’t mean approaching marriage in this sense.

      Of course while she conversed with her hormones, she was staring at him again. And realizing this triggered the hyperventilation and sweaty palms with which she was becoming so regrettably familiar.

      Nevertheless, she sucked in her stomach, wiped her palms, held her breath and launched into the fabulous bookkeeping lecture she’d prepared. “I recommend the double entry method of keeping track of your income and expenses. Here’s why...”

      

      “Sylvia, I was brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!” Jayne hugged herself the next morning, then snatched the chocolate doughnut out of Sylvia’s hand and whirled around her office.

      “You’re always brilliant.” Sylvia sat on Jayne’s couch and peeled the plastic cover off her coffee cup. “That’s why I hang around you. I keep hoping some of your smarts will rub off on me.”

      “But you don’t understand.” Jayne bit into and hurriedly swallowed some of the doughnut. “This time I was brilliant brilliant. You should have seen their faces. The class hung on every word. There wasn’t a sound out of them, not even when I forgot the eight o’clock break.”

      “You talked for two solid hours?”

      “Yes! I was fantastic.” Jayne returned to her desk, opened her coffee and emptied it into her favorite thermal mug. “When they left, everybody was real quiet and thoughtful.”

      “Are you sure they were awake?”

      Jayne frowned. “Of course. They were digesting everything I’d told them.”

      Sylvia picked the walnuts out of her whole wheat apple muffin and dropped them into the ashtray. “You think maybe you gave them too much to eat?”

      “Hardly. I could have gone on for another two hours.” Jayne sipped her coffee to keep from running over and whisking the ashtray out of Sylvia’s reach.

      “Then why aren’t you?” Sylvia asked and bit into her muffin.

      “Why aren’t I what?” Jayne asked crossly. If Sylvia didn’t like nuts, why did she always get the same muffin? Why not blueberry? Why leave nuts in Jayne’s ashtray all the time?

      “Teaching two more hours. Why’d you get Bill to finish your classes?”

      “He’s got to learn sometime.”

      Sylvia popped the last of her muffin into her mouth and brushed her hands together. Jayne could see little brown crumbs dotting the forest-green leather of the sofa.

      “But why this time?” Sylvia stood. “Honestly, Jayne. Here, according to you, was a gorgeous man sitting right in your class and you didn’t even invite him for coffee afterward.”

      “Oh, please. He wouldn’t go for coffee with me.”

      “Did you ask?”

      “No,” Jayne mumbled and took a huge bite of her doughnut so she wouldn’t have to discuss the matter with Sylvia anymore.

      “And now, in a move guaranteed to squelch any possibility that you two could get together—” Jayne nearly choked “—you’ve quit the class.” Sylvia left, shaking her head. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re reconsidering my cousin Vincent I understand he’s filled out some.”

      Sylvia was wrong, wrong, wrong—and not just about reconsidering Vincent Jayne had done the right thing. It was pointless to wish for what one couldn’t have, wasn’t it? Especially if the wishing was interfering with the pursuit of what one could obtain, which was, in Jayne’s case, a measure of corporate and financial security. If she achieved success in the business world now, then when the young men of her generation decided it was time to settle down and look around for suitable life mates, there would be nice, solid Jayne and her little nest egg, ready to hatch.

      At least that had been the plan until now. Jayne wasn’t going to be passively waiting around anymore. She may not be Garrett Charles material, but he’d shaken up her life in a good way, she told herself. After all, wasn’t she planning a cruise with Sylvia?

      So, on Tuesday night, just about the time Garrett Charles was entering the conference room at Pace Waterman, Jayne, attired in her velour robe with the threadbare elbows, was parked in front of her television set while dining on her favorite feel-good meal—canned ravioli, M&M’s and diet cola. She’d swathed her head in a towel while her hair soaked in a deep conditioner, which promised to counteract the effects of Sylvia’s recent home perm. The movie playing on her video recorder was How to Marry a Millioieaire, СКАЧАТЬ