long week."
Melina sniffed, impatient with herself for becoming so sentimental. "What you need is a diversion," she stated. "Something to take your mind off it and make the time go faster."
"Such as?"
"I'm thinking." She tapped her lips with steepled fingers. After a moment, she experienced a burst of brilliant inspiration. But it was immediately followed by exasperation. "Damn!" she exclaimed, slapping the tabletop. "I can't believe I'm about to offer this to you."
"What?"
"Oh, what the hell?" she said, making a sudden decision. She leaned across the table and said excitedly, "Go in my place tonight."
"What? Where?"
"Guess who I'm escorting this evening."
"I don't care."
"Sure you do. Christopher Hart."
"The astronaut?"
"Ah-hah! Your eyes lit up when you said his name."
"If they lit up, and I doubt they did, it's because I'm impressed that my sister's been retained to escort such a VIP . Isn't he just back from a space mission?"
"Three months ago. He completed a shuttle mission that salvaged an important military satellite. Crucial to world peace or something like that."
"What's he doing in Dallas?"
"Receiving an award from SMU's alumni association. They're giving him a distinguished something-or-other award at a black-tie banquet at the Adolphus." She smiled wickedly. "Want to meet him?"
"I don't know how to do your job!" Gillian exclaimed. "Any more than you know how to sell commercial real estate."
"Your job is difficult. It involves interest rates and plats and stuff. Mine's a no-brainer. What's to know?"
"Plenty."
"Not so. You pick him up at the start of the evening, you drop him off at the end of it."
Of course, she was grossly simplifying her job description. She had worked as an apprentice for years before her employer retired and sold her the business. Under her management it had expanded.
Essentially, unless a celebrity visiting Dallas arrived with his or her own entourage, she, or one of her three carefully screened and trained employees, was responsible for that individual until he was safely on his way to his next destination. She served as chauffeur, confidante, shopper—whatever the client needed her to be. She sometimes groused about having to work ridiculous hours, but her complaining was so much hot air, because she loved what she did. Her business had thrived because she was good at it.
But she wasn't worried about Gillian taking over for her for one night. Like her, Gillian had never met a stranger in her life, and she wasn't likely to become tongue-tied in the presence of Colonel Christopher Hart. She'd sold real estate to men more important than he. And it would get her away from Jem Hennings for one night, which in Melina's view was a bonus.
"You know where the Adolphus is, right?"
"Forget it, Melina," Gillian said, enunciating each word. "He's staying at The Mansion. You pick him up there and get him downtown by—"
"You're not listening."
"I don't listen to lame excuses. You haven't given me one good reason why you won't go."
"Then how's this? We're no longer children. Adults don't play games like this."
"We could still get away with switching."
"Of course we could, but that's beside the point."
"Why?" "Because it's crazy."
"Colonel Hart doesn't know me from Adam. What's the harm?"
Gillian continued to ignore her arguments. "I've got my own business to attend to! I'm on the brink of getting a hot new ad agency to sign a contract on a new facility to the tune of three million. I'm meeting with them this afternoon to hammer out the deal points with the seller. In addition to all of the above, Jem's coming over tonight. So, thank you for the thought, but no."
"Christopher Hart is hot, hot, hot," she taunted in a singsong voice.
"You can tell me all about him later."
"Last chance. Going, going..."
"No, Melina."
"Gone."
Frowning, and muttering over what a wet blanket Gillian was, she requested the check and insisted on treating. Outside the fashionable restaurant,
Melina sniffed, impatient with herself for becoming so sentimental. "What you need is a diversion," she stated. "Something to take your mind off it and make the time go faster."
"Such as?"
"I'm thinking." She tapped her lips with steepled fingers. After a moment, she experienced a burst of brilliant inspiration. But it was immediately followed by exasperation. "Damn!" she exclaimed, slapping the tabletop. "I can't believe I'm about to offer this to you."
"What?"
"Oh, what the hell?" she said, making a sudden decision. She leaned across the table and said excitedly, "Go in my place tonight."
"What? Where?"
"Guess who I'm escorting this evening."
"I don't care."
"Sure you do. Christopher Hart."
"The astronaut?"
"Ah-hah! Your eyes lit up when you said his name."
"If they lit up, and I doubt they did, it's because I'm impressed that my sister's been retained to escort such a VIP . Isn't he just back from a space mission?"
"Three months ago. He completed a shuttle mission that salvaged an important military satellite. Crucial to world peace or something like that."
"What's he doing in Dallas?"
"Receiving an award from SMU's alumni association. They're giving him a distinguished something-or-other award at a black-tie banquet at the Adolphus." She smiled wickedly. "Want to meet him?"
"I don't know how to do your job!" Gillian exclaimed. "Any more than you know how to sell commercial real estate."
"Your job is difficult. It involves interest rates and plats and stuff. Mine's a no-brainer. What's to know?"
"Plenty."
"Not so. You pick him up at the start of the evening, you drop him off at the end of it."
Of course, she was grossly simplifying her job description. She had worked as an apprentice for years before her employer retired and sold her the business. Under her management it had expanded.
Essentially, unless a celebrity visiting Dallas arrived with his or her own entourage, she, or one of her three carefully screened and trained employees, was responsible for that individual until he was safely on his way to his next destination. She served as chauffeur, confidante, shopper—whatever the client needed her to be. She sometimes groused about having to work ridiculous hours, but her complaining was so much hot air, because she loved what she did. Her business had thrived because she was good at it.
But she wasn't worried about Gillian taking over for her for one night. Like her, Gillian had never met a stranger in her life, and she wasn't likely to become tongue-tied in the presence of Colonel Christopher Hart. She'd sold real estate to men more important than he. And it would get her away from Jem Hennings for one night, which in Melina's view was a bonus.
"You know where the Adolphus is, right?"
"Forget it, Melina," Gillian said, enunciating each word. "He's staying at The Mansion. You pick him up there and get him downtown by—"
"You're not listening."
"I don't listen to lame excuses. You haven't given me one good reason why you won't go."
"Then how's this? We're no longer children. Adults don't play games like this."
"We could still get away with switching."
"Of course we could, but that's beside the point."
"Why?" "Because it's crazy."
"Colonel Hart doesn't know me from Adam. What's the harm?"
Gillian continued to ignore her arguments. "I've got my own business to attend to! I'm on the brink of getting a hot new ad agency to sign a contract on a new facility to the tune of three million. I'm meeting with them this afternoon to hammer out the deal points with the seller. In addition to all of the above, Jem's coming over tonight. So, thank you for the thought, but no."
"Christopher Hart is hot, hot, hot," she taunted in a singsong voice.
"You can tell me all about him later."
"Last chance. Going, going..."
"No, Melina."
"Gone."
Frowning, and muttering over what a wet blanket Gillian was, she requested the check and insisted on treating. Outside the fashionable restaurant,
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