Gibson's Girl. Anne McAllisterЧитать онлайн книгу.
was here.
It was going to be wonderful. The experience. The job. She would do a good job—she was determined about that. Despite her disastrous, humiliating beginning, she would salvage her job. And she would go home at peace, having seen the bright lights and big city; she would be ready to settle down with Dave.
Like Sister Carmela, she would get her taste of the big broad world, and then she would go home.
“The grass isn’t greener on this side of the fence,” she said aloud now. Then she giggled. From where she stood and looked out the window, there wasn’t any grass to be seen at all.
She closed her eyes and thought about Iowa. She thought about how green the grass was now, how blue the sky. She thought about Dave. Strong. Steady. Dependable. Dave.
He was all she’d ever wanted in a man.
But just before she went to sleep she found herself hoping that, when she came to him naked on their wedding night, he would look at her with the same intensity that Gibson Walker had.
You’d think Gina had an in with the Almighty!
Well, Gib admitted, maybe she did. She was always doing good deeds and helping other people. Maybe that was why everything she wanted for Chloe seemed to be falling into place.
He’d just been standing there by Edith’s desk, telling her that if she wanted to keep Chloe she’d have to find her a place to stay, when the door opened and Sierra, the hair stylist, came in.
“She’s staying?” Sierra sounded delighted. “Your sister’s friend? You’re kidding.”
“I wish I was,” Gib grumbled. “She won’t leave.”
Sierra’s eyes got big. “Took one look at you, did she? Decided she can’t live without you?” Sierra came in to do hair frequently on Gib’s shoots. She knew how many women flung themselves at his feet. She also knew it irritated the hell out of him.
“She’s engaged,” Gib said dampeningly.
Sierra blinked in surprise. Then she shrugged. “You could cut him out.”
“I’m not interested!”
The force of his voice had Sierra stepping backwards. She lifted her shoulders again. “You never are, are you?” It was common knowledge that for all that women threw themselves at Gib, he never chased them. He dated, but never seriously.
“No,” he said firmly now. “I’m not.”
“So,” Sierra changed the subject, “when’s she coming in?”
Gib shrugged. “I told her we started at nine. So we’ll see if she actually shows up. Maybe by today she’s come to her senses. Maybe,” he said hopefully, “she got to thinking about it and went home this morning.”
The door opened. “Who? Me?” Chloe said.
Gib groaned. Partly because she was still there—and partly because she looked every bit as sweet and innocent and delectable as she had the day before. He’d told himself he was imagining it.
He hadn’t been.
She also looked fresh and bright and well-rested—a whole lot better rested than he was. And though her cheeks were rosy, if it was from mortification over yesterday’s disaster, she didn’t look nearly as mortified as he might have hoped.
Actually the blush on her cheeks looked more like brimming good health than lingering embarrassment. She looked like she could hardly wait to get to work.
“I haven’t found you a place to stay,” he told her flatly.
“My sister needs a house sitter,” Sierra said.
Both Gib and Chloe jerked around to stare at her.
Sierra shrugged. “If you need a place to stay,” she said to Chloe, “you can probably stay at my sister’s. She’s having her apartment redecorated this summer. They’re doing a lot of work on it and she’s going out to the Hamptons while they’re working, but she was saying just the other day that she’d like someone to keep an eye on things, be there when the plasterers showed up, that sort of thing.”
Chloe’s eyes lit up. “Fantastic.”
“Hang on a minute,” Gib objected.
They all looked at him. He opened his mouth again, then closed it. What was he going to say? That he didn’t think that the apartment of the sister of a purple-haired stylist was appropriate lodging for a former Iowa kindergarten teacher no more worldly than her students?
“She doesn’t look like me,” Sierra said with a grin, as if she could read his mind. “Mariah is...normal.”
“I didn’t mean that,” Gib began, then stopped. What did he care? As he’d been at pains to point out to both Gina and Chloe, he wasn’t going to be anyone’s keeper. He shrugged irritably. “Fine. Ask your sister.” He jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, then turned away. “Save me the trouble. I’ve got work to do,” he said and stalked off toward the studio.
Footsteps hurried after him. “Wait for me,” Chloe said a little breathlessly.
But Gib didn’t want Chloe underfoot right now. He was entirely too aware of her at the moment. “Go help Edith,” he said. “When Misty gets here she can help me.”
He glanced long enough to see a flicker of disappointment on her face. His jaw tightened. He steeled himself against it. Telling her to help Edith was not the same as kicking a puppy, damn it.
The door to the outer office opened again, and the first models came in chattering. “Hi, Gib!”
“Hi. handsome!”
Gib flashed them standard smiles, then turned a scowl on Chloe again. “Go,” he said. “Didn’t you agree to do whatever I asked you to do?” he reminded her silkily.
She colored slightly. She sighed. She went.
Gib turned back to load film in the camera. Sierra started to work on the blonde model’s hair. Beyond the door he could hear Edith telling Chloe about how she arranged the scheduling.
“Let me make some notes,” Chloe said.
Gib nodded, satisfied. If she had to be here, helping Edith was the best place for her. She could have her time in the city, and she wouldn’t be underfoot.
Now, if Misty would just show up.
He needed her to set up the lights and the reflectors so they could get started as soon as Sierra finished with the models’ hair. He would need her to move things later, changing the lighting while he shot.
He read over the notes the agency had sent. He made some of his own. He started setting things up himself, annoyed.
Edith stuck her head in. “Misty called. She can’t come in today. Something about her planets not being properly aligned.”
Gib stared.
Edith shrugged, a small smile playing around the corner of her mouth. “Apparently she’s sensitive to that sort of thing.”
Gib gave her a steely-eyed glare.
“Shame about that,” Edith said, still smiling. “You could probably use some help.”
Gib could see Chloe sitting at Edith’s desk, talking on the phone to someone, taking notes studiously, her lower lip caught between her teeth. Gib looked at her, then at Edith.
Edith looked at Gib, then at Chloe, then back at Gib.
Damn it, was she going to make him beg?
“I could send Chloe in to help when she’s finished on the phone,” Edith ventured after a moment.
“Do that,” Gib growled.
Chloe