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Authors: Alexandra Sellers
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the gold chains around his neck, his Levis fitting snugly around hips and thighs that were just a little too fleshy. In contrast, the woman with him was almost severely business-like in a black linen suit and masculine white shirt.
Clawing out a career for herself, just like me, Vanessa sized her up at once and smiled. "Good morning."
"Have you two met?" Tom put his hand on the woman's arm in the way that a man touches a woman when he wants everyone to know he has just spent the night with her, and he looked up at Vanessa with a triumphant little smile.
He wanted to see if she would be jealous, Vanessa knew. She wondered how he could imagine that she, having turned him down herself, would still want to keep other women away from him.
"Margaret, Vanessa."
Margaret lifted her hand to shake Vanessa's and smiled up at her. "We've said hello," she said, "if we haven't actually met."
"Monday night," Vanessa agreed.
"How come you're up so early?" Tom inquired, as though he did not want the women to get chatty with each other. "Thinking you might start a lingerie line?"
The morning showing was of lingerie, in which TopMarx didn't carry a line.
"No, I'm going to do some sight-seeing this morning, I think, if we can get a replacement model fast enough."
Tom snapped his fingers. "I forgot, you fired that girl last night, didn't you? Can you get another one in time?"
Typical of him to expect her to find the replacement, as though Vanessa had fired Louisa for some petty personal reason and not because it was good business to have TopMarx's designs shown to best advantage.
"Tom..." she began, and then stopped. If she tried a showdown now, in front of a woman he obviously wanted to impress, Tom would get ugly and then Vanessa would be irritated for the whole morning. And then she wouldn't know whether he had got a replacement till half an hour before the show. She had enough on her mind without a fruitless argument with Tom.
"Is that one of your own designs?" Margaret was eyeing the summery green cotton pants with the intriguingly tied waistband as though she hadn't noticed the slight tension in the air. Vanessa turned to her gratefully.
"Yes, they are. Not the top, of course." Her top was a simple T-shirt in matching green that she had picked up at Macy's.
"Very, chic," said Margaret. "Are we seeing something like that tomorrow night?" Thursday night skirts and slacks were being shown, but although Vanessa had designed a pair similar to these in wool, Tom had axed them from the fall line as being too expensive in both material and production time.
Tom was shaking his head. "Too bulky in wool," he said shortly. "Made 'em look fat."
The woman's professional eye was not fooled, but she said only, "Pity. They'd go over big here in a lightweight wool. Toronto's a cold damp city in the winter, and with a coordinated jacket those could look very smart in the office."
Just about exactly what Vanessa had said to Tom six weeks ago, but she didn't show the rather bitchy triumph she felt now. She smiled her thanks at Margaret, saying to Tom, "I'll let you know when I've got a model." The waiter arrived with their breakfast, and Vanessa moved away to a table by the window.
It was a beautiful early summer day and the restaurant window faced in the same direction as her bedroom, looking across Burrard Inlet toward Grouse Mountain. There was a cable lift up the mountain, she knew, and she was suddenly wishing she hadn't promised to watch this afternoon's showing of blouses and sweaters with Colin. She could have had the whole day free, and most of Thursday, since TopMarx had nothing showing until tomorrow night's slacks and skirts. She could have rented a car and spent the two days sight-seeing.
She ate her breakfast quickly; she did not like eating alone. She was half expecting to see Jake Conrad appear, since she was pretty sure he had spent the night in the hotel. But by the time she had finished her last cup of coffee he hadn't
Clawing out a career for herself, just like me, Vanessa sized her up at once and smiled. "Good morning."
"Have you two met?" Tom put his hand on the woman's arm in the way that a man touches a woman when he wants everyone to know he has just spent the night with her, and he looked up at Vanessa with a triumphant little smile.
He wanted to see if she would be jealous, Vanessa knew. She wondered how he could imagine that she, having turned him down herself, would still want to keep other women away from him.
"Margaret, Vanessa."
Margaret lifted her hand to shake Vanessa's and smiled up at her. "We've said hello," she said, "if we haven't actually met."
"Monday night," Vanessa agreed.
"How come you're up so early?" Tom inquired, as though he did not want the women to get chatty with each other. "Thinking you might start a lingerie line?"
The morning showing was of lingerie, in which TopMarx didn't carry a line.
"No, I'm going to do some sight-seeing this morning, I think, if we can get a replacement model fast enough."
Tom snapped his fingers. "I forgot, you fired that girl last night, didn't you? Can you get another one in time?"
Typical of him to expect her to find the replacement, as though Vanessa had fired Louisa for some petty personal reason and not because it was good business to have TopMarx's designs shown to best advantage.
"Tom..." she began, and then stopped. If she tried a showdown now, in front of a woman he obviously wanted to impress, Tom would get ugly and then Vanessa would be irritated for the whole morning. And then she wouldn't know whether he had got a replacement till half an hour before the show. She had enough on her mind without a fruitless argument with Tom.
"Is that one of your own designs?" Margaret was eyeing the summery green cotton pants with the intriguingly tied waistband as though she hadn't noticed the slight tension in the air. Vanessa turned to her gratefully.
"Yes, they are. Not the top, of course." Her top was a simple T-shirt in matching green that she had picked up at Macy's.
"Very, chic," said Margaret. "Are we seeing something like that tomorrow night?" Thursday night skirts and slacks were being shown, but although Vanessa had designed a pair similar to these in wool, Tom had axed them from the fall line as being too expensive in both material and production time.
Tom was shaking his head. "Too bulky in wool," he said shortly. "Made 'em look fat."
The woman's professional eye was not fooled, but she said only, "Pity. They'd go over big here in a lightweight wool. Toronto's a cold damp city in the winter, and with a coordinated jacket those could look very smart in the office."
Just about exactly what Vanessa had said to Tom six weeks ago, but she didn't show the rather bitchy triumph she felt now. She smiled her thanks at Margaret, saying to Tom, "I'll let you know when I've got a model." The waiter arrived with their breakfast, and Vanessa moved away to a table by the window.
It was a beautiful early summer day and the restaurant window faced in the same direction as her bedroom, looking across Burrard Inlet toward Grouse Mountain. There was a cable lift up the mountain, she knew, and she was suddenly wishing she hadn't promised to watch this afternoon's showing of blouses and sweaters with Colin. She could have had the whole day free, and most of Thursday, since TopMarx had nothing showing until tomorrow night's slacks and skirts. She could have rented a car and spent the two days sight-seeing.
She ate her breakfast quickly; she did not like eating alone. She was half expecting to see Jake Conrad appear, since she was pretty sure he had spent the night in the hotel. But by the time she had finished her last cup of coffee he hadn't
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