Courting the Clown (4 page)

“Actually, I don’t have any money on me,” she grumbled, feeling humiliated. “I told you. Everything’s back at the store. Keys, money, phone, lipstick, hairbrush. All the essentials. Yes, stupid, but all of this wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Nick glanced in a rearview mirror. “After what Emily did to you today, I think she owes you a meal or two. Consider it an advance payment on the clown job you’ll be doing for us.”

Sylvie bit her lip before the curse flew out of her mouth at the mention of that ‘clown job’. She’d promised to do her best, after all. If he couldn’t find an alternative. Wouldn’t do to negate on that now. “I’ll pay you back as soon as I reclaim my purse,” she said firmly.

“Sure you can.” Nick turned to study her carefully, then reached out to touch her cheek. “It looks like we can’t do anything about the make-up without a blowtorch or that crowbar, but now your wig is off, it’s not too bad.”

She knew it was worse than bad and gave him a look that said so, loud and clear, but she appreciated his attempt at being a gentleman. “But the costume! It probably glows in the dark!” She pulled at the pink polka dots, but Nick just shook his head and herded his daughters out of the car. He opened the door for her, and as she stepped out, he put his coat over her shoulders. “There. Nary a polka dot in sight.”

The coat was heavy on her shoulders, and warm enough for her to feel she was doing something illicit. It smelled like him too, which didn’t help. She was pathetic. Not only pathetic, she was a pathetic clown. The man didn’t even have a clue as to what she looked like, and here she was, practically drooling over his damn coat.

“Put your arms in the sleeves,” he commanded, and started rolling up the heavy sleeves in anticipation of her obeying him. “That costume is ridiculously thin. I can’t believe you played outside wearing this.”

He caught her eye and dropped the sleeve, smiling embarrassed. “Sorry. I get carried away with the father role sometimes.”

“No problem.” Right on cue, she sneezed, and Nick’s handsome face turned worried. “God, please, don’t get sick,” he muttered, and she was quite pleased with his concern until she realized he wanted her alive and well to entertain in his daughters party. Damn it all!

The fast food place was crowded, but everybody was in a hurry so a table was free after only a few minute’s wait. Emily was quick to finish her burger and wriggled in her seat, staring with longing towards the playroom. Lana was less impressed, but when her little sister scuttled off, she followed.

Sylvie took a bite of her burger, and noticed Nick’s mouth moving. The place was so loud, it was impossible to get heard without either shouting, or getting very very close.

Nick chose the second option. He leaned towards her, and she got a close-up view of his eyes. Very blue. Very sexy. Filled with warmth and humor and sending tickling heat up her spine.

Great. Just what she needed. The first man in years to wake up the butterflies in her stomach and she had to be dressed in a clown suit, and he had to be a widowed father of two. Not exactly a match made in heaven, and she viciously chewed on her French fry and swallowed with satisfaction. There. Let the cholesterol deal with the damn butterflies.

“You’ve got to tell me,” he said close to her ear, and she got goose bumps all over. “How in the world did you end up a clown?”

Sylvie speared a French fry with a plastic fork and dipped it in ketchup. Who cared about calories on a day like this? “It’s not an interesting story.”

Nick shook his head, grinning. “I don’t believe that. It has to be fascinating. Was it a dare or something? Or did you just badly need a job.”

She wiped her hands on a colorful napkin and pushed the plate with the remaining fries away. She looked up at him and grimaced. “Well, a bit of both, embarrassing as it is. I have this pact with two of my friends about doing things out of our comfort zone.” She took a long gulp of her soda. “And then I lost my job. Not nice, so close to Christmas. So, Susie tricked me into going with her. Of course, I didn’t realize it was a part of the plan.” She groaned. “God, I wished she’d dragged me to a karaoke bar. That was the kind of thing I was thinking with the out-of-comfort-zone thing. Embarrassing myself by singing disco songs off-key after a drink or three. Not this!”

Nick chuckled. “I see.”

Sylvie sighed. “Susie said I could make good money the holiday season if I did this. She made it sound so innocent and easy, and I was stupid enough to fall for it. And it was a big mistake. For her as well as for me,” she added darkly. Susie would rue the day...

Nick was looking interested. “So you need a job?”

“Well, yes, but I have my standards. I mean, I’d rather starve than wear this costume again.”

Nick leaned towards her and there was a new sparkle of determination in his eyes. She leaned away in self-defense. Nick and determination were proving to be a dangerous mix. “If you come to Lana’s birthday party,” he said slowly. “I can get you a job. A good job. Temporary or permanent, whichever you want. You can start whenever you want, too. Tomorrow, if you’d like to earn some money before Christmas.”

She peered at him suspiciously. “You don’t know anything about me. And, what’s even worse, I don’t know anything about you. What kind of a job are you talking about?”

Nick leaned back and shrugged. “There are several options. I own a store, so it could be retail or office work. The precise nature of the job would depend on your skills and interest. You’d come for an interview and we’d go over your CV and see what we can offer you.”

Nick didn’t hesitate. “I’ll have to take the chance.” He smiled crookedly. “If it gets Lana Iffy the Clown for her birthday, it’s worth it even if you somehow manage to bankrupt one of my stores.”

The man truly was desperate.

But then, so was she. She wouldn’t be starving any time soon, but getting a job was a top priority right now. And she had already practically promised to do the birthday party anyway.

“Okay,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I’ll do it.”

Chapter 3

By the time they returned to
Clowns and Clauses
, the lights were on. Someone was back. Thank God. Normality was just a few minutes away. Sylvie breathed a sigh of relief, said a very quick goodbye to Nick and his daughters and practically ran to the door in anticipation of repossessing herself. A scrawny half-dressed Santa opened the door when she banged on it. Worried, Sylvie glanced, back, but Nick had pulled away, sparing the girls a sight of a twenty-something Santa with no beard and no belly.

The young Santa was the only one there, and he quickly pulled off the rest of his costume and left. For a long time, Sylvie just stood in front of the mirror, staring at herself in horrified disbelief.

This was what she’d looked like all evening?

Nick was a brave man. He’d not only let her into his car, but actually taken her to a restaurant, with actual people there. And he’d never let on any embarrassment or even amusement at being in her company. She grimaced, and the mirror image looked even more tragic. People
must
have stared. Why hadn’t she noticed?

Had she been too busy at staring at
him
?

She flipped another light on, just to punish herself even further. The mirror gleefully gave her an even better look at herself. Her white make-up alternated between being caked and runny, her colorful costume looked bad by itself, but worse soaked with snow and grime, and even her hair, freed from the confines of the wigs, looked like a crow’s nest in need of restoration. She smoothed her hands over it, scowling. She’d probably have been better off keeping the wig on, horrible as it was.

And Nick had dismissed her protests. He’d said she looked fine. Fine!

Sylvie whimpered and looked around for a chair to fall into. God, she’d like to show him what she looked like at her best. Not that she had any particularly lofty ideas about her own appearance, but she did look presentable enough -- unlike that... that...
creature
in the mirror.

So what?

She did not need to prove anything to Nick, she chastised herself. She’d been doing a job. This look – most of it – was part of that job. She was not out to impress him. So what if he had the most gorgeous deep blue eyes she’d ever seen, and so what if the feel of his coat over her shoulders had almost hypnotized her with its warmth and his subtle scent?

His coat?

Oh, damn.

She stared dismayed at herself in the mirror. Nick’s coat. Clean and dry and still draped over her shoulders. She pulled it off and carefully hung it on a hook by the door so she’d remember to take it with her. This wasn’t a catastrophe. She’d just have to return the coat as quickly as possible. After all, she had his card. She had three phone numbers for the man, his pager number, two email addresses, his PA’s phone number and his home address as well as two work addresses. It probably wouldn’t be
too
difficult to track him down – if he didn’t beat her to it.

Sylvie started the process of removing the damp costume, shivering now that she’d lost the warm protection of Nick’s coat. The changing room looked brighter and larger without Susie and assorted partners-in-crime crowding her with paintbrushes and not-so-practical advice – all probably aimed at distracting her from what they’d planned for her.

Underneath, her t-shirt and underwear were soaked – and the white cotton was splotched with red and orange where the color from the wet costume had seeped through.

Charming.

Oh, God. Nick’s coat!

Sylvie grimaced as she glanced back at the coat hanging by the door. She was afraid to check the inner lining. The coat looked expensive, and if it was now all stained in red on the inside, she’d have to offer to replace it.

All in all, it was probably lucky that she’d forgotten to return it. He’d have put it on without noticing the dye, and that warm heavy coat would have clung to those nice wide shoulders, transferring the red ink to that lovely gray sweater which had looked so soft her fingers had itched to touch it.

Damn. Those annoying butterflies were back. She clenched her pathetic abs in an effort to kill them, but it didn’t work. She should have consumed more cholesterol back at the fast-food place. Definitely.

She opened one eye, then another one as her worst suspicions were confirmed. It was bad. It was horrible. The entire inside of the coat was splattered with red and pink blotches. And what about his car? Had she ruined his seat covers too?

She let go of the coat and shuffled back to the changing area. That better be a well-paid job he was getting her. At this rate she’d have to work several months just to pay him back for assorted damages.

She peeled all of the horrid costume off and threw it in the huge laundry basket, which was already overflowing with Santa costumes, equally grimy from the city snow. Their laundry bill had to be astronomical. Not that she cared. She was never coming in here again. She just wanted to go home and forget just about everything that had happened today. Home, to her tiny apartment on the fifth floor, overlooking brick walls and garbage cans. Home to a semi-hot shower, dry pajamas and a warm bed. Home to the cat she’d adopted the day after she moved in. She hoped he was in the mood for sharing. Lazarus made a wonderful toe-warmer, and now she needed one badly.

She wouldn’t mind not seeing pink or orange for a century or so. No polka dots, either.

The door clanged open and Susie stumbled inside, wearing a tan coat that almost hid the colorful clown suit she was wearing underneath. She was carrying several shopping bags in each hand. “Hey!” she said, green eyes sparkling with glee. “Return of the Clown! How was it?”

“I’m not speaking to you,” Sylvie said. She turned to the mirror and tried to smooth her hair so it looked less scary. Then she’d be out of here. “I’m not sure I’ll ever speak to you again.”

Susie whistled cheerfully. “Hey, I got a call from Mrs. Panati. She was ecstatic. The kids were thrilled with you. They want to know if you’ll be available for the boy’s birthday in February.” Susie gave her thumbs up. “Great work! Are you available in February?”

“No, I am most definitely not available in February!” Sylvie shouted. “In fact, I’ll never be available again. Ever! Got it?”

Susie held up her hands. “Whoa. I sense that you’re a tiny bit upset.”

“
Tiny bit?”

“Was it the juggling act? Mrs. Panati told me about that. You know, if you don’t know how to juggle, it probably isn’t a good idea to start with five snowballs.”