Switched, Bothered and Bewildered (25 page)

What a fool she'd been, getting dressed up for Jackson, dancing with him, kissing him, letting him get to her. All that had to stop. She'd throw herself into the Little Princess project for the rest of this week and stay out of his way.

From what she'd heard there'd be another girl to take her place by the end of the week anyhow.

After lunch Jackson put his signature to a dozen items and read reports from each department before Olga slid another manila envelope under his nose.

"Interoffice mail."

"Thanks," he said. What now? Another report? He scanned through his pile of folders; he'd thought he'd seen one from everyone. He undid the string twist and let the contents fall on his desk. There were phone records with highlighted calls and an assortment of odd papers. He picked through them carefully. What was all this; didn't it belong in accounting? He must have gotten it by mistake. He looked for the sender notation on the outside of the envelope, but there was none.

One page caught his eye. Paper-clipped to the top of a stack of memos was a photocopy of six signatures, each the same, but different. Jillian Tompkins, six ways, six times. There were arrows

connecting a set of three, and someone had written the dates down under each signature and numbered them.

He stared at the paper. He didn't get it. Under that sheet were six memos Jillian had written. They had numbers matching the signature photocopy.

He put that aside and looked at the phone records. They were all from Jillian's office to a 360 area code, long distance. These were the things Jillian herself usually did—examined the phone records for repeat long-distance calls that weren't company business, then busted the caller with a bill and a warning. The listing said Seabridge, Washington, and they were all dated last week. Whoever had put together this report must have accessed the account records online.

Another group of papers clipped together had the press photos of Jillian and her sister when they were just kids. He smiled at their frilly dresses and slightly tipped tiaras. Gosh, they were so identical. Except for the different sashes and trim colors on their dresses, he didn't know how anyone could tell them apart. There were three of those photos, and so? He'd seen them before when they were looking at the concepts for the toys. Boy, that blue dragon dude was grumpy looking.

If he'd gotten all this by mistake, someone was going to an awful lot of trouble to examine Jillian's habits very closely.

He smiled to himself. It was no secret around

the office that he'd been dating her. Hell, it was
never
a secret around the office who he dated. Jackson was surprised it wasn't announced on the lunchroom bulletin board.
This week our VP
will be dating Susan Sweeney. Please leave your appli
cations in human resources if you'd like to apply for next week.

Someone must be trying to throw a little dirt on Jillian. His father always told him not to date within the company, but who was he to talk, a man who'd had an affair with his secretary while he'd been married to a terrific person like Mom?

Jackson bristled. Old pain rolled around his temples. He really resented what his father had done to them. And he hated the fact that he'd taken on some of his father's traits. Why was he constantly unable to make a commitment to one woman? He was thirty-six now, and this was all wearing extremely thin.

His reputation had caught up with him, and now, when he was actually interested in a woman, she was backing away from him.

Jackson decided to bury himself in work. He put aside the folder that had mysteriously arrived on his desk and picked up a pile of advertisements to approve. What did he care what a bunch of meddling women thought about him dating Jillian?

It
was
kind of strange she'd been calling her sister from work. She could use her cell phone for

that. But of all people, she'd be the first one to audit her own phone records and pay her longdistance overage.

He stared at the advertisement for a pack of ice-skating Snotz dolls and sighed.

There was something about Jillian Tompkins that was making him nuts. He didn't need a memo to figure that out. He needed
her.

"You've got a three-thirty meeting with Jackson and the design department." Oliver had come in and given her the bad news personally, rather than delivering it over the intercom. He'd also brought in the blousy, pink and peach summer bouquet Jackson had sent over. He plunked it on the desk. "It's making me sneeze," Oliver said.

"Say it isn't so."

"What, the sneezing? Or the meeting?"

"The meeting, of course. I mean, I care if you have allergies, but the meeting can't be cured with Kleenex and a Benadryl."

"I see your point." Oliver blew his nose. "Excuse me."

"You're excused. What am I supposed to be doing at this meeting? Numbers?"

"Actually, no. Since you got yourself into this whole mess with the Little Princess promotion, it's all about approving the preliminary samples and other non-math-related things, although you should throw in a few stock phrases about unit

pricing and packaging, which are Jillian's pet peeves."

Jana Lee, who had spent the entire day reading magazines, eating her lunch, drinking tea and trying to forget about this whole fiasco, felt panic creep up on her. "Why does Jackson have to be there?"

"Apparently he specifically requested the meeting. Don't take it all personally—producing a new product for holiday lineup at this late date is a minor nightmare, and he truly has to keep an eye on the details. He's taking a risk, and he wants to be sure things are done right."

"Oh, really. So you don't think it's an excuse to see me?"

"Of course it is. I've never seen Jackson Hawks so befuddled in my entire time here. He's no doubt having to confront all kinds of personal demons."

"He
is
a personal demon."

"At any rate, gather yourself up and off you go. I didn't give you much lead time so you wouldn't get all worked up about it. They're expecting you shortly. And by the way, the orange jacket looks divine. Throw that scarf over your shoulder and just muster up some attitude. You'll be fine." Oliver left the room.

Jana Lee hung back and tried to clear her head. Maybe she should just shrug Jackson off and let Jillian reignite him when she got back. Now
that
was not a bad idea.

She'd put on her new clothes today—stretchy black tank dress with her new orange linen jacket and the Pucci scarf. She loved the high-styling lines of this jacket with the asymmetrical shape. She knew it made her look good. Did she want to look good?

Her new little bow shoes looked great, with their pointy toes. Jana Lee retied her scarf around her neck the way Ollie had suggested, then Tangerine Summer went on her lips.

Jana Lee had never felt so conflicted in her entire life. She was sprucing up for a man she was supposed to be avoiding. Her sister's words kept haunting her.
"You and Jackson could start over."

They could not. She'd gone too far. She needed to be Jillian for the next few days and end this madness as soon as possible.

When she finally emerged from the office, Ollie gasped, then grinned.

"You go, girl," he said. He handed her a binder—to look the part more, he said.

A swaggering walk wasn't her style, but she tried to access her inner Jillian as she entered the design department space. Jackson just about fell off the swivel stool he'd parked himself on next to Petra's presentation table.

"Miss Tompkins, you're looking . . . well," he sort of fumbled.

Jana Lee thought Mr. Hawks looked like he hadn't slept in days. Poor fellow.

"Let's get right to work, I don't want to run late." Jana Lee positioned herself carefully on a chair and let Petra, who was looking at her like she'd seen a ghost, do her bit. Probably she had seen a ghost, the ghost of Jillian Tompkins come to life. Jana Lee had been much too
herself
last time she and Petra had talked.

"Ahem, well, here's our princesses, and the dragon in a rough form, six ways, six fabrics, and we burned the midnight oil on these, if I do say so myself, sir." Petra held up two dragons and danced them around while she talked.

"I appreciate that very much, Petra. Which one do you like?"

Petra danced the one in her left hand. "This guy. He came out very well with the vinyl scalloped contrast in purple. Soft Goods found a brushed velour that works nicely."

"What's the cost breakdown on fabric?" Jana Lee knew an opening when she saw it, although she looked around to see if anyone was staring at her funny.

"Number two is the least expensive, see the number under their tails?" Petra picked up a sample and flipped it upside down. "But I'm not sure if we'd be looking at some seam stress. We don't want to produce a carnival booth toy, here, folks."

"What's his pose-ability due to—wires?" Jana Lee asked. Hey she was a mom, she knew about toys and their problems.

"Plastic coated, and we're using top grade there. We didn't have any issues with the Titans of Terror characters."

"Isn't this for a lower age range?" Jana Lee asked.

"Yes, true."

"Good point, Jillian, let's go with a stuffing and axe his pose-ability. He's supposed to be a pal, anyway. Let's add the music box and he'll be singing instead of having the ability to hold a martini glass." Jackson crossed his arms.

Everyone laughed and they started in on construction and fabric content and left the dress selection till the end. Since Jana Lee was out of her league here, she nodded and smiled a lot. This was most definitely a meeting Jillian would have ruled court over, but the lofty silent approach was working as far as Jana Lee knew.

When she'd picked a couple of very cute dresses and they'd rearranged the age-appropriate level to include the tiny little tiaras, she got up.

"Thanks, Petra, and please send a report over to me. I'll run up the hard figures based on your new selections." Jana Lee hoped that sounded official and somewhat accurate.

"Sure," Petra said. "Thanks for coming."

"I'll walk you back to your office, Miss Tompkins."

Petra made a brief eye-rolling face that only Jana Lee could see. It made her smile.

"Let's go then," she said as she headed for the doorway. Jana Lee could feel Jackson directly behind her. She slowed down so he was beside her. They walked down the halls of Pitman together, with many eyes following. An audible ripple of whispers followed in their wake.

"I tried to reach you this weekend. Did you get my messages?" He sounded pretty casual.

This was her moment to decide. She decided she was doomed anyway, so she might as well cut her losses.

"Mr. Hawks, as much as I've enjoyed your company, I think we should cool it. Office dating is difficult."

"Are you kidding? I think we're way beyond that. And Friday, well hey, call me crazy, but we both felt the earth move, didn't we?"

Jackson looked around and noticed people were staring. Here he was running after this very beautiful woman, who was really making tracks down the hallway. He liked her better when she wasn't all orange and black and harsh all over, even though that jacket was amazingly cool. What the hell had happened to her, anyhow?

He'd seen her act like a kid over toy ideas and brainstorm advertising ideas like a champ. He'd seen this magic spark in her that had attracted him like a moth. As a matter of fact, here he was, chasing that spark down the hallway, beating his wings against the glass, waiting to be burned up in her flame. She was going to scorch him for sure.

He stopped in his tracks. She didn't. She kept on going. Damn her, she was as stubborn as any female he'd ever met. He gathered his pride and headed down a side hallway, the back way to his office. It might be an early cocktail hour for him tonight.
Damn
her.

Jana Lee made it into her office without closing the door, then started to cry. She didn't mean to—it just burst out of her. She made an odd sound and felt the tears flow down her cheeks. Oliver followed her in, and she motioned wordlessly for a tissue. He grabbed a full box out of a drawer and started handing her a stream of them, shutting the door behind them.

"Bad meeting?" he asked carefully.

"I told Jackson to cool it. I brushed him off." She threw herself into her office chair, sniffling and sobbing.

"That sounds reasonable, and very wise, considering."

"It does, doesn't it? But the truth is, the earth

did move." She knew this didn't make much sense, but Oliver seemed to understand.

"Oh, dear, don't get yourself all worked up about this, I'm sure things will work out." Oliver looked distressed. He sat down in the chair across from her and handed her more tissues.

"How can it work out?" Jana Lee blubbered. "I'm not Jillian, and when Jackson finds out I've been lying to him, he won't ever want to see me again. Not that I
care,
I mean, I hardly know him. It's just that what I have seen, I actually
li-i-i-ke."
Her "like" came out in little hiccupping sobs.

"Oh, not that you care," Oliver kidded her.