Read Online Fire in the Wind by Alexandra Sellers - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Alexandra Sellers
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appeared, and she realized with irritation that she had spent the entire meal watching the door for him and thinking over what had happened last night.
There was something very confusing about Jake Conrad, something she couldn't understand. Had he really ever loved her, or had he merely told her that he had for some reason of his own?
Tom and Margaret had had a leisurely breakfast. Vanessa was just waiting for the waiter to bring her change when Tom crossed to her table.
"I forgot to tell you—I'll be taking one of the buyers out to dinner tonight. I'd like you to come along. If you're going out will you be sure to be back by eight-thirty? I'll meet you in the hospitality suite."
He was gone without waiting for her to say yes or no, but what did it matter? She wasn't likely to be doing anything else tonight. If Jake asked her out, she knew she would have had to refuse anyway. There was no sense courting trouble, and Jake, however adept he sometimes was at disguising it, was trouble.
* * *
The woman at the modelling agency listened to the litany of Louisa Hayward's sins with a placid lack of horror that secretly drove Vanessa up the wall. It's a clash of cultures, she reminded herself, gritting her teeth and gripping the receiver so tightly she thought her hand would break.
"She didn't come up to scratch, eh?" The woman clicked her tongue. "Poor Louisa. She doesn't understand yet that modelling is hard work. She thinks it should be glamorous."
Culture clash or no culture clash, Vanessa had had enough.
"You seem to suffer from a little of that same naiveté yourself," she said coolly and unmistakably. "I would like you to understand that you sent us a girl under the guise of a professional model who refused to go onstage in the middle of a trade show because she was talking and who single-handedly destroyed the showing with a collection of tricks I wouldn't expect from a child. Now I am telling you that we are not paying you for Louisa's services and you should consider yourself lucky if we don't sue you for lost business. I was going to ask you for a replacement, but from now on we'll deal with someone else!"
"Listen," the woman began earnestly, and Vanessa had the satisfaction of knowing that at last she had got through to her. She listened while the overdue apology and concern were expressed, but steadfastly refused to allow the agency to send a replacement model.
As soon as she hung up she kicked herself for a fool. Now she was stuck with finding another agency and she knew nothing about the Vancouver agencies. Nor did Tom, evidently. He had probably pulled this one out of the phone book, when with a couple of phone calls he could have got their New York agency to recommend one.
She looked at the phone. It was nine-thirty on a beautiful morning and she had to be back at two-thirty for the sweater show. She could easily waste an hour trying to find a model, and they didn't need anyone till Thursday night's show.
To hell with it. Martita and the two girls they already had could cover if they had to. She would worry about the model later. It was Tom's problem as much as hers and he wasn't wasting the day worrying.
Vanessa picked up her bag and the green cotton jacket that matched her slacks, let herself out of her room and went down to the tourist desk in the lobby.
"You've missed the tour bus," the young girl said sadly. "It just left a couple of minutes ago. The next one's not till eleven-thirty, and it wouldn't get you back in time for two-thirty. You could rent a car, but I don't know what you could see in a few hours. There's the Grouse Mountain cable car and the Capilano Suspension Bridge, you could do that. That's across in North Vancouver. Or you could—"
"Or you could let me show you the sights," said the deep male voice she had been unconsciously waiting to hear all morning, and Vanessa turned and involuntarily smiled at Jake Conrad.
"Jake!" she said, not quite aware of what her smiling face told
There was something very confusing about Jake Conrad, something she couldn't understand. Had he really ever loved her, or had he merely told her that he had for some reason of his own?
Tom and Margaret had had a leisurely breakfast. Vanessa was just waiting for the waiter to bring her change when Tom crossed to her table.
"I forgot to tell you—I'll be taking one of the buyers out to dinner tonight. I'd like you to come along. If you're going out will you be sure to be back by eight-thirty? I'll meet you in the hospitality suite."
He was gone without waiting for her to say yes or no, but what did it matter? She wasn't likely to be doing anything else tonight. If Jake asked her out, she knew she would have had to refuse anyway. There was no sense courting trouble, and Jake, however adept he sometimes was at disguising it, was trouble.
* * *
The woman at the modelling agency listened to the litany of Louisa Hayward's sins with a placid lack of horror that secretly drove Vanessa up the wall. It's a clash of cultures, she reminded herself, gritting her teeth and gripping the receiver so tightly she thought her hand would break.
"She didn't come up to scratch, eh?" The woman clicked her tongue. "Poor Louisa. She doesn't understand yet that modelling is hard work. She thinks it should be glamorous."
Culture clash or no culture clash, Vanessa had had enough.
"You seem to suffer from a little of that same naiveté yourself," she said coolly and unmistakably. "I would like you to understand that you sent us a girl under the guise of a professional model who refused to go onstage in the middle of a trade show because she was talking and who single-handedly destroyed the showing with a collection of tricks I wouldn't expect from a child. Now I am telling you that we are not paying you for Louisa's services and you should consider yourself lucky if we don't sue you for lost business. I was going to ask you for a replacement, but from now on we'll deal with someone else!"
"Listen," the woman began earnestly, and Vanessa had the satisfaction of knowing that at last she had got through to her. She listened while the overdue apology and concern were expressed, but steadfastly refused to allow the agency to send a replacement model.
As soon as she hung up she kicked herself for a fool. Now she was stuck with finding another agency and she knew nothing about the Vancouver agencies. Nor did Tom, evidently. He had probably pulled this one out of the phone book, when with a couple of phone calls he could have got their New York agency to recommend one.
She looked at the phone. It was nine-thirty on a beautiful morning and she had to be back at two-thirty for the sweater show. She could easily waste an hour trying to find a model, and they didn't need anyone till Thursday night's show.
To hell with it. Martita and the two girls they already had could cover if they had to. She would worry about the model later. It was Tom's problem as much as hers and he wasn't wasting the day worrying.
Vanessa picked up her bag and the green cotton jacket that matched her slacks, let herself out of her room and went down to the tourist desk in the lobby.
"You've missed the tour bus," the young girl said sadly. "It just left a couple of minutes ago. The next one's not till eleven-thirty, and it wouldn't get you back in time for two-thirty. You could rent a car, but I don't know what you could see in a few hours. There's the Grouse Mountain cable car and the Capilano Suspension Bridge, you could do that. That's across in North Vancouver. Or you could—"
"Or you could let me show you the sights," said the deep male voice she had been unconsciously waiting to hear all morning, and Vanessa turned and involuntarily smiled at Jake Conrad.
"Jake!" she said, not quite aware of what her smiling face told
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