Evening Hours

Crying out loud, she had dropped to her knees, wrapped her arms around her upper torso and rocked back and forth until sleep had mercifully overtaken her.

The following morning she had awakened to a numbness that had stayed with her for weeks. She had existed in a zombielike state. But she had finally made a promise to herself never to let her guard down ever again. She would never subject herself to that kind of pain and humiliation.

To date, she had kept her word.

But she had to admit that Cutler’s phone call had made a tiny dent in her shield of steel. Dredging up that awful memory had, however, served as a wake-up call.

She had to keep her vow uppermost in her mind or she would sink back into that black hole from which she might never recover. She wasn’t about to let that happen. She had worked too hard, gone through too much hell to get where she was today. There wasn’t a man in this universe for whom it was worth sacrificing her peace of mind.

Not even a hunk like Cutler McFarland.

“Good morning.”

“Hey, Sandy, come on in.” Her assistant couldn’t have chosen a better time to make her appearance. The past was just that, Kaylee reminded herself. She didn’t need to keep dragging it out of storage and rehashing it—for more reasons than one, the most pressing one being her work.

“I knew you’d want to see me first thing, so here I am.”

“And none too soon either. Even though I’ve culled this stack of shots, I need your critical and clinical eye.”

“You got it. But before we get started, I think you might need to have a heart-to-heart with Jessica and Gwen. Maybe Barbie, too.”

“Oh, dear, what’s going on now?”

“Same old, same old.”

Sandy made no apology for her choice of words, but then Kaylee didn’t expect her to. Her frankness was part of her winsome personality.

“I hate to come to you with this, but they don’t seem to listen to me anymore,” Sandy went on. “I had to get away from them before I lost my cool and said something I’d regret.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Kaylee said, steel in her tone. “You’re right, that petty jealousy between those three has gone on long enough. With the Neiman Marcus and the Medical Alliance shows close on the horizon, I need to nip this in the bud right now.”

“They may even refuse to work together.”

“If they so much as hint at such at thing, none of them will work the shows.”

Sandy grinned. “Lady, did I ever tell you I like your style?”

“You’re full of it, too.” Kaylee grinned, then frowned. “Before you and I get down to the nitty-gritty, go get the three rebels and send them in.”

Sandy’s eyebrows went up. “Now?”

“Nothing like the present to kick some butt.”

Five

“Gwen, I’m counting on you to tell me what’s going on.”

The model lifted her head with a defiant jut to her chin. Kaylee clenched her jaw to keep from coming on too strong in the beginning. She didn’t want to start World War Three unless it proved necessary.

She had called the models into her office one by one. Gwen was the last. So far, she’d struck out. Jessica and Barbie had refused to divulge what had triggered the rift. Hopefully she would have more luck with Gwen, who was more even tempered than the other two.

“I’m waiting,” Kaylee finally said.

“What did the others say?”

“That’s something I’m not prepared to share.”

Gwen blew out a breath, then tightened her protruding lower lip.

Of all the models who worked for the agency on a steady basis, this young lady had the most potential. Not only was she gorgeous—with perfect features that enhanced her alabaster skin, big dark eyes and coal-black hair—she had the body to match the face. Unlike the majority of her cohorts, she didn’t have to starve herself in order to remain thin as a stick. It was in her genes. She was a natural. At five foot ten, Gwen seemed to float down the runway or jump off the pages of a magazine.

“I don’t have anything to say.” No mistaking the mutiny in her voice and features.

“So that’s the way you want to play?”

“Are you going to fire me?”

Gwen’s question shocked Kaylee. Letting any of them go at this point had not crossed her mind. Dealing with temperamental girls and their heightened egos was a big part of her job. While she would like to throttle them when they acted like spoiled brats, she chose to curb that urge and opt for the diplomatic approach. That had always worked.

Until today.

Something was definitely going on, something more serious than the petty jealousies that often triggered these outbursts. The girls were three of her top models, and with two important style shows only weeks away, her strategy had to produce results. If none of the three was willing to talk, then she, with Sandy’s help, would have to go in the back door, which was not her first preference. It was her policy to be honest and direct with her girls. She always wanted them to know where they stood with her. She expected the same courtesy from them and for the most part, they complied.

“Is that what you want?” Kaylee finally asked. “For me to fire you, that is?”

“Of course not.” Gwen’s response was emphatic, though spots of color surged in her cheeks.

A warning bell clanged in Kaylee’s head, but again she had no evidence, concrete or otherwise, to give her concern a bona fide name.

“Is that all you have to say?”

Gwen nodded.

Kaylee chose her words carefully. “You’ve made your choice, and I’ll respect it. Having said that, I want to remind you that choices have consequences.”

Kaylee paused hopefully to let that statement soak in. “And the consequences are not always pleasant.”

Gwen lowered her head, but not before Kaylee glimpsed a moistening on her thick eyelashes. Suddenly she felt the urge to get up and give the girl a comforting hug. But that would show a weakness she couldn’t allow if she didn’t want this situation to blow up in her face.

“Can I go now?”

“You may. But I’ll tell you what I told the others. I won’t put up with any behavior that blights this agency or its reputation.”

When Gwen stood, her face turned chalk-white, and another alarm went off silently inside Kaylee’s head.

“Is that clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.”