Chapter 2
Later, in Wellington’s office, Layne was almost in tears. “Talk to him in person? I have to talk to him in person?” Layne repeated incredulously. “Can’t I just call him and ask him to send another check?” My God, how totally embarrassing! She remembered her icy replies, and how she tried, with much success, to be as nasty and sarcastic as possible, while still getting whatever check he could afford to write. And she certainly did not expect the check he wrote!
“No,” Wellington replied casually, “you can’t call him. Sometimes things just don’t work the way we’d like, Miss Martin. He needs an explanation, a personal explanation, and a heart-felt apology.” Her boss stopped for a moment to rearrange some papers on his desk. “Try your best to make the heart-felt part sound genuine. It appears he’s not your favorite person.”
“Mr. Wellington,” Layne said, anger and angst rising within her, “why do you insist on making me do this? Is this some sort of punishment? Let me just call him.”
“Miss Martin, that check is — was, now that it’s gone —extremely important to us. And,” he continued, “Erik Rivers is far and away our most important client. If he wants your head, we’ve got to let you go. We’ll have no choice. We’ve got to lose you, or lose him, and he definitely trumps you, I’m afraid. He’s an ace to your deuce.”
That got her attention. Lose her job? Way too many bills waiting to be paid . . . “Okay,” she said, letting out a pent-up breath. “Where is his chamber of horrors?”
“Get your terminology correct, Miss Martin. Please. Here in Texas it’s called a ranch. Not a farm, not a spread, but a ranch, and certainly not a chamber of horrors.” Wellington paused to allow his words to sink in. “Go west on Highway 90 to Hondo,” he finally continued. “Turn left on 34. Go about ten miles. Everything you see from that point on belongs to him. In another ten miles or so, you’ll see a large sign, Rivers End Ranch. Can’t miss it.” He raised an eyebrow. “I strongly suggest you take care of this as soon as possible.”
Wellington was on the phone the instant Layne left his office. “She’s on her way,” he said. “You’ve got a free rein. Have some fun. Start teaching her a lesson.”
~ ~ ~
Layne finally found the sign Wellington described and pulled off on the shoulder, stopping to gaze up at the huge carved wooden sign that swung over the entrance to the ranch. RIVERS END RANCH. Sort of hard to miss . . .
An increasing wave of anger replaced Layne’s dread at what she was being forced to do. She continued down the long, winding gravel road, beautifully flanked by Bitter Root, Western Columbine, and Indian paintbrush, and guarded by Leland Cypress its entire length. She rounded a corner, and now clear of the Cypress trees blocking the view.
Oh . . . My . . . God, she thought as she stopped and sat quietly, in total awe of the sweeping panoramic. Forested valleys, rugged canyons, and green, lush prairie dotted with grazing cattle spread out in front of her. How perfectly beautiful!
After a minute or two, her gaze swept to a massive two-story log house – house? Hell, a mansion — and the rugged wooden door with a huge brass knocker, waiting for her deep within the stone entryway. She drove a bit closer to the structure and parked, waiting a full minute, taking deep relaxing breaths in hope of calming her wrath, and nerves, before leaving the car and starting to the entryway. She was awash with anger and trepidation, although she realized she could have been nicer, and really did not need to tear up his check. But, in her defense, how the hell was she to know who he was?
She ventured into the coolness of the fieldstone entryway, aware of the hushed whirl of the sentry camera recording her movements. She took a last deep breath to relax and calm her anger and dread, and rapped with the door’s heavy brass knocker.
A short moment later, the door swung open and a middle-aged woman wearing a flowered apron around her ample middle greeted Layne. “Hello?” She smiled expectantly.
“Hello.” Layne smiled in return. “Is . . . Mr. Rivers at home?”
“Yes,” the woman replied. “And you are?”
“Layne Martin.”
“I’ll tell him you’re here, Miss Martin. Please come in.” She turned and disappeared into another room.
Layne stepped into the foyer and gazed in awe at her surroundings. Never had she seen anything like it. She’d been in beautiful homes before, but this was different. It was a mansion, and very definitely a man’s domain! She glanced around before taking a couple of careful steps out of the foyer into a hallway, then another few careful steps into what had to be a library. The walls were lined floor-to-ceiling with books.
Mesmerized, Layne walked through the comfortable leather chairs scattered about, to the closest wall and ran her fingers over a row of leather-bound editions.
“Something I can help you find?” a pleasant voice asked, startling her.
Oh crap! Oh holy crap! Layne spun around. “I’m so sorry,” she quickly said, embarrassed to be found invading the privacy of the room.
Standing in front of her, with a slight grin curving the corners of his mouth, was Erik Rivers. But not the Erik Rivers she was expecting. Today he was an entirely different man. Clean-shaven, clean jeans and boots, a freshly ironed button-down shirt, and combed short, wavy hair. Oh my! She tried not to stare, but could not. Her gaze was locked on a ruggedly handsome face, possibly the most appealing she’d ever seen. Had she been an artist, she could not have painted anything more perfect! How on Earth had she missed that before? And whatever happened to her anger? Not that it mattered in the least, she quickly told herself, but it seemed to be gone . . .
“Is something wrong?” Erik asked, checking his clothing to be sure everything was buttoned and zipped up properly. “I think I’m completely dressed.”
Layne tore her gaze away, finally. “No, nothing is wrong,” she quickly replied, a bit shaken. “I’m just impressed . . . by your library.” She paused for a moment. “I’m Layne Martin. You may remember we met at the Wellness Center and again yesterday at the park? And you gave me a very generous check?”
“Short and feeble as my memory is, Miss Martin, I do remember, but I do not remember actually meeting you. You never gave me the chance. You ran away too fast. Twice, I believe. Plus, you refused to shake my hand at the park. It was clean, believe me. One could look at that as being a bit rude.”
“Yes, well.” She paused, finding the right words through her embarrassment of the entire situation, including being found perusing his vast book collection. “Well, then, this is your chance to formally meet me. I’m Layne Martin,” she said, offering her hand, “and I’m sorry tore up your check.” There, she’d said it! Now all she could do was wait for the axe to fall.
Erik clasped her hand in a warm, friendly grip. “Okay, it is nice to finally meet you, Miss Martin, and you tore up my check,” Erik repeated with a frown. “That doesn’t happen to me very often. May I inquire as to why you decided to tear it up?”
Her hand, lost in his, was causing a slight shortness of breath, so she pulled it away as quickly and quietly as she could without drawing too much attention to it. Then, she thought, she may as well go to prison for stealing two loaves of bread as for one. The sentence was going to be the same. “Actually, I thought . . .” She paused again. Just spit it out! “I thought it was some sort of joke. I mean, you looked like a homeless person, straight out of living under a bridge.”
“Wow,” he said, “that’s somewhat graphic! I looked that way at the Wellness Center? I was sure I was dressed rather nicely.”
Layne tried to explain. “No, you didn’t, not at the gym,” she started. “No, you don’t,” she started again. “Look,” she finally finished, flushed with embarrassment and wishing to be struck dead by a bolt of lightning or swallowed up by a gigantic sinkhole, “I don’t know what I mean. I’m sorry about how I acted and what I said. And,” she explained quickly, “you looked good at the gym, and in all honesty, not so good at the park.”
“I told you I’d just been thrown by a horse. But okay, let’s get back to the check. A one million five hundred thousand-dollar donation, as I remember. I suppose now that you’ve torn up the original, you want me to write you another?”
“If you could, yes,” she replied hopefully, flooded with relief. Hope springs eternal! “And only if it’s convenient?”
Erik studied her for a moment, sweeping away as not to linger on the swell of her breasts. Layne had no way of knowing that like most of the men at the Wellness Center, he had acute peripheral vision, quite well developed. “It’s not really a matter of whether or not I could, but rather a matter of if I would.”
Layne’s feeling of relief was instantly swept away. “Mr. Rivers, my job depends on this. You hold my job in your hands!”
Erik studied her for a moment. “Well then,” he said, “I guess this all depends on how much you want it.”
“It would be nice if you’d write another, yes,” Layne replied. Her dislike for this man had returned, rapidly overtaking whatever previous positive feelings were developing.
“Okay,” he finally answered. “However, before I write another check, I have a few conditions you’d have to agree to. Are you willing? A lot depends on this.”
Layne was immediately on guard. “Am I willing to what?” she asked cautiously, keeping her returning anger in check. “You haven’t told me what you mean by conditions.”
“My conditions are that you agree to be available to me, at my beck and call, so to speak, for the next six weeks. The city council’s time limit for the park is seven weeks, if I’m not wrong. At the end of six weeks, if things go well, I’ll write another check. Those are my terms, or conditions, if you will.”
Layne stared at him incredulously. “You’re out of your mind,” she shot back angrily. “Out of your friggin’ mind! This is unbelievable. There’s no way that’s ever going to happen!”
“You tore up the check, Miss Martin, not me.”
This man is crazy! “Tell me,” she said, longing to slap the smile off his face and making no effort to contain her boiling anger, “to your demented way of thinking, exactly what does beck and call entail? This should be quite interesting.”
“Nothing too bad, Miss Martin. Really. It merely means that if I’d like to go dancing with you, we will go dancing. If I’d like to take you to dinner, we will go to dinner. If I want to round up a few cattle with you, we will round up a few cattle. If I want to fly off somewhere for lunch, we will do it. Things like that.”
“And if you want us to sleep together, we will do it? Are you actually thinking of that? If you are, you’re totally insane!”
“That part is up to you.” He smiled again. “But your morals will never be compromised, and nothing will ever be forced on you, Miss Martin.”
“You’re damn right nothing will be forced on me! And you expect me to do this beck and call thing for how long?”
“Only six weeks.”
“Only six weeks. That’s sick!” She was halfway out of the room when Erik called to her.
“Look,” he said, coming to her side, “understand that no deal means no check, no check means no park, no park means no job for you. That’s just how the dominoes fall.”
“So now you’re threatening to take away my job? You mean that for six weeks, I give up any semblance of my own personal life? What if I’m married?”
“You’re not.” Erik grinned. “I checked.”
“Well, what if I have a boyfriend? I could have a boyfriend!”
“Yes, you certainly could, and should have a boyfriend, and I’m completely amazed that you don’t, but you don’t.” His smile widened. “I checked.”
Again, Layne resisted the almost overwhelming urge to slap that silly grin off his handsome face. “I checked.” Good grief! What gives him the right to do that? “How are you so sure of all this? What makes you think this is something I would even consider doing? In my wildest dreams? Which, incidentally, are turning into a bloomin’, friggin’ horrible nightmare.”
“I can’t make you do anything you don’t want to do, Miss Martin, but I think you’d enjoy the six weeks. While I’m sure it’s difficult for you to believe, I’m not a bad person. Really.”
“Not a bad person? What are you talking about, not a bad person? You are a totally despicable person!” Layne stopped to take a breath. “What makes you think you can do this to me? This is crazy!”
“You tore up a lot of money.”
“It was just a damn piece of paper. Quite worthless in itself!” she shot back.
“I think,” Erik started again, “you’d agree some sort of punishment is in order. I’ve known Mr. Wellington to fire people for much less.”
Layne continued to study Erik, holding her anger in just under the full-blast explosion level. The thought of losing her job loomed in her mind. She could probably find work with another practice, or even return to Chicago, but bad memories lurked there. Could she get a reference from Mr. Wellington? Certainly not for a job well done. Certainly not for tearing up a one and a half million-dollar check! And certainly not if Erik Rivers insisted that she be fired.
“I’m going to take a day or two to think this over,” Layne finally said. “I can’t believe you’d do such a thing. This is despicable, totally despicable! Hopefully I’ll wake up in a minute or two and this will all be gone. You will be gone!”
“Well,” Erik replied, the grin still showing at the corners of his mouth, “you’d better hurry, ’cause time’s a’wastin’.”
Layne turned on her heel and hurried out of the house to her car.
Erik watched her go, resisting the urge to call her back. Whatever was he thinking? Had he just lost the only chance of getting to know her – the only woman who seemed to not have a clue or care to who he was? This had to be the craziest thing he’d ever been talked into, and he was up against the most willful woman he’d ever known!
~ ~ ~
“And those were his conditions,” Layne said, explaining Erik’s demands to Wellington. “This is crazy! Do I have to do this? It certainly isn’t anywhere in my job description.”
“No,” Wellington replied, “it’s not in your job description.” He nodded to a chair. “Sit, Miss Martin. Let’s talk about this.” He lowered himself into his chair behind the massive oak desk and continued. “What is it exactly that concerns you?”
“What is it that concerns me?” she cried, talking back to Wellington for the first time ever. “Everything! I mean, good grief, this is blackmail, pure and simple! He’ll control my entire life for six weeks! And,” she added, “what if he demands something I refuse to do, like have sex with him?”
“I guess you’d have to balance that against your job, in that regard.”
My morals balanced against my job? Sex against my job? “Well,” she shot back, “you’re asking me to do something I’d rather not do right now, aren’t you?”
“I’m not sure it’s really asking. It’s more like a decision you’ve got to make. Do you want to keep your job? And that, I’m afraid, will be totally up to Mr. Rivers.”
“Do it or lose your job? It’s all up to Rivers? Is that what you’re saying?”
Wellington cupped his fingers under his chin and was silent for a moment. “Look at it this way, Miss Martin,” he finally replied, “again, knowing him as I do, you’ll have a very interesting time. There’s nothing he can’t do, there’s no place he can’t go. Under different circumstances, most women would jump all over this.”
“Different conditions, possibly, but why has he chosen me? You just said he could take his pick.”
“Well, you’re the only one I’m aware of who has torn up a one million, five hundred thousand-dollar check. That’s the reason you’ve been chosen. You commit the crime, you’ve got to do the time. He’s not after you in a romantic or sexual way.”
“Oh for Pete’s sake! Come on! He’s hit on me in the gym. Not once but twice. And then again at the park. He’s got to have an entire stable-full of arm candy lined up. That’s what men like him do. I will not be added to his collection! And,” she continued, “speaking of the gym, what’s he doing there, anyway? Shouldn’t he be running his farm?”
“Ranch,” Wellington corrected her. “It’s called a ranch. He drops in at the Wellness Center occasionally to check things out. He made quite a large donation to get the project underway. He certainly has no need of building up his body.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” Layne replied. “But he still hit on me!” Well, actually that wasn’t true. Yeah, she noticed. But that was definitely beside the point.
Wellington shook his head. “I can’t believe this,” he muttered. “Okay, I’m only going to say this once, so listen carefully.” He picked up a pencil and rapped on his desk. “These are the qualities he likes, qualities he likes about any woman, qualities any man would seek in a woman.” He held up a finger.
“This can’t be good,” Layne muttered. “He’s in his ‘hold up a finger’ mode.”
Wellington’s eyes shot up. “What?”
“I was just thinking out loud,” Layne replied, fearing she’d just crossed a very fine line and quite possibly could kiss her job goodbye right now. “I know it’s important when you raise a finger, Mr. Wellington.”
“Yes,” he agreed, offering a rare slight smile, easing Layne’s mind somewhat. “That’s the only way I can count. First, you are intelligent. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be an attorney, and you certainly wouldn’t be in this practice.” Another finger was raised. “You are educated. The attorney thing again.” A third finger popped up. “You are articulate. You use more big words than a dictionary. And,” he continued without raising another finger, “I’ve heard you have a sense of humor, although I’m willing to bet Mr. Rivers hasn’t been privy to that yet, and I personally do not wish to be either. And last, apparently some of the men in the office think you’re kind of pretty, so you’re not easy to miss.”
Wow! Coming from the men in the office, and transmitted by Wellington, a compliment such as that was totally unbelievable! “Thank you. I guess I’d better clean off my mirror, because apparently they’re seeing things I’m not. But,” she added mirthlessly, “about that sense of humor thing. You’re right. He will never see it. I can’t believe he’s doing this.”
“Miss Martin, really, what have you got to lose? With Mr. Rivers, you’ll see and do things you’ve only imagined doing. You’ll go places you’ve only dreamed about. And,” Wellington continued, “at the end of it all, we’ll have a one million, five hundred thousand-dollar check, and the park will be saved! Think about that. And if you do well, you’ll still have a job. But again, that’s going to be up to Mr. Rivers.”
Layne was silent for a moment, closely studying her fingernails. “Damnit!” she mumbled through tight lips before slowly standing up. “Okay, looks like there’s little choice.”
~ ~ ~
The Wellness Center was quiet, as it always was this early in the morning. Layne was resting after riding the stationary bike for forty-five minutes, and was waiting for Barb to finish on the bike beside her.
Suddenly, Barb stopped pedaling and leaned across to grab Layne’s arm. “Layne, look who’s here! See that guy,” she whispered, nodding across the room, “that’s Erik Rivers. God, I’ve almost stripped my clothes off and thrown myself at his feet more than once, but he’s never even blinked.”
“Do you know him?” Layne asked innocently, masking her surprise as she turned to follow Barb’s eyes.
“Not personally, but I’d kill to meet him. He’s here pretty often, at least this time of year when he doesn’t need to be at his ranch all the time. He almost owns the place.”
“This place? How does he own it? I don’t understand,” Layne questioned. So many things to learn about this totally despicable man!
“Well, of course he doesn’t actually own it, but his money sure got the center off the ground to a good start. Have you seen the donations board? I’m pretty sure he’s on the Board of Directors too.” Barb’s eyes widened as she watched Erik walking toward them. “Oh my God, oh my God,” she whispered, “he’s coming over here. Oh my God!”
Layne watched with cold, hooded eyes as Erik approached and stopped in front of her stationary bike.
“Hi.” He grinned, noticing the blotch of perspiration between her breasts, staining the halter top. “Looks like you had a good workout,” he said, quickly raising his eyes from her breasts.
“I did,” she replied curtly, folding her arms over her chest before nodding to Barb. “Mr. Rivers, this is my roommate and co-worker, Barb Meier. Barb, Mr. Rivers.” You should have given her the check. Then she could play your silly little game with you . . .
Erik offered his hand, and Barb couldn’t get off the bike quick enough to grasp it. She gazed up into his eyes with a look that, at least to Layne, said, Take me, I’m yours any way and any time you want. And, if you wait a minute, I can get naked. “Hi, Mr. Rivers,” she managed with adoring eyes, big as saucers.
“Hi, Barb, it’s a pleasure meeting you, but please call me Erik. My friends call me Erik.” He turned to Layne. “May I speak with you for a moment, Miss Martin?” He turned to Barb. “Do you mind, Barb?”
She managed to let go of his hand and shake her head.
With Barb’s unconscious nod of approval, they excused themselves and walked off a short distance. “Have you come to a decision yet?” he asked quietly.
“Yes.”
“What is it?”
“What the hell do you think it is?” Layne shot back. “What the hell do you think it could be? I just told you. Yes. I have little choice.”
“Good, I’ll call you later.”
“Don’t bother me at work.”
“I won’t,” he replied over his shoulder as he turned away. “Mr. Wellington gave me your cell number.”
~ ~ ~
“How on Earth do you know him?” Barb asked in amazement when Layne returned. “My God!”
“Um, he’s a client of our firm. Haven’t you ever seen him in there? He’s there quite often.”
“He said he’s gonna call you?” Barb continued her interrogation. “What’s that all about?”
Good grief, Layne thought, she must have megaphone ears! “Yes,” she lied. “I’m, ah, working on a little something of his, that’s all.”
“Does it have anything to do with getting custody of his niece?”
What? Custody of his niece? “What’s that all about?” she asked.
Barb shrugged. “All I know is that he’s investigating the possibility with Mr. Wellington. At least that’s the word around the office.”
This was all new to Layne. Usually, anything of interest quickly made its way throughout the office, but this choice little bit sure missed her. “What’s going on? Where is the niece now?”
“From what I understand, the grandmother has the girl. She took her immediately when she got out of the hospital.”
Layne lifted her ponytail to wipe the perspiration running down the nape of her neck. “Why? Was she sick? What was going on?”
“I remember seeing the story in a newspaper three, maybe four years ago, and from what I remember,” Barb said, gently testing her tired legs, “Mr. River’s sister and her husband were killed in a car crash. The child was with them at the time, and lived through it, but just barely.”
“My God, how awful! How badly was she hurt?”
“Broken bones, internal injuries, I guess, but I really don’t remember much about it. Hell, I can’t even remember what I did yesterday.”
“What’s the custody problem?” Layne questioned.
“Again,” Barb said, “I don’t really know, but the rumor was, since Mr. Rivers was single — and still is, of course — he couldn’t and still can’t, I suppose, properly care for the child, whereas the grandmother could. Anyway, that was the word around the office at the time.”
“Whose mother is the grandmother?”
“The husband’s.”
“So she’s had the child since the accident?” Layne surmised.
“I guess so,” Barb replied. “At least that’s what I understand.”
“How old was the child at the time?”
“I think three, maybe four.”
Layne nodded. “So Rivers wants to raise a six- or seven-year-old? Pretty tough to do by yourself, and run a ranch operation at the same time, wouldn’t you think?”
“Yeah, he’s gonna need a wife, and I’ll be first in line to apply.” Barb laughed.
Layne’s thoughts returned to her situation with Erik Rivers. “How did you recognize him?”
Barb cast her an incredulous look. “Doesn’t everybody know who he is?”
Layne shrugged ruefully. “I sure didn’t, and that got me in a whole barrelful of trouble.”
“Well, I guess you haven’t been here long enough to know that the Rivers End Ranch Empire has been around since the 1800s, handed down from generation to generation. When his parents died, he took over. He’s a damned important guy in Texas, believe me.”
“Oh,” Layne said, wiping the seat and handlebars of her bike with a disinfectant paper towel. She realized her world, as she’d known it, was about to change. And she could see it wasn’t going to be a change for the better.
~ ~ ~
The musical tune of her cell phone jolted Layne. She followed the music and dug the phone out from under a pile of newspapers on the end table. There was an unfamiliar caller ID and she pointed to the TV so Barb could turn the volume down before leaving the room. She answered cautiously, wondering if this would be the call from Rivers. “Hello,” she said.
“Miss Martin,” came the reply, “this is Erik Rivers. Sorry I called so late, but one of my bulls went down, and I had to be there with the vet. It’s one of my breeding bulls, and he’s a very valuable animal.”
What the hell did she know, or care, about his friggin’ prize bull? “Will it be okay?”
“Yes, he’ll be fine. Anyway,” he continued, “I want to take you to dinner tomorrow, then back to my place for a bit of wine and conversation. I want us to get to know each other.”
Back to his place for wine. Red flags were flapping all over the place. “Is anyone else living in that little shack of yours?” she asked, with no little sarcasm.
“No, just me.” He paused for a moment. “Well,” he corrected himself, “at least for now. There are times my housekeeper stays overnight, but that depends on the weather. I don’t want her driving home in a storm.”
Layne caught the ‘at least for now’. She wondered if that meant the housekeeper or plans for the niece. She assumed the housekeeper. “I want her to be in your house tomorrow night.”
“Tomorrow’s forecast calls for perfect weather, Miss Martin,” Erik replied. “There will be no reason for her to stay.”
“You have to understand, Mr. Rivers. I . . .”
“Erik. Call me Erik.”
“Your friends call you Erik,” Layne shot back. “I am not your friend, and never will be. You are, and always will be, Mr. Rivers to me. I also have conditions,” she continued. “If she’s not there. I won’t be there either. That’s one of my conditions.”
“One of them? There are more? I thought I was the one in control of this.”
“This is one I’m in control of, and insist on, and yes, there may be more. We’ll have to wait and see about that. I don’t know anything about you,” she continued. “For all I know, you may be a serial killer, although I doubt it. You may be a serial rapist, although I doubt that too. But until I get to know you much, much better than I do now, being alone with you in your home is not high on my list of smart things to do - or any girl to do.”
Silence reigned for a short moment. “I don’t know you either. For all I know, you could come with a gun and rob me, or worse yet, shoot me.”
“I have a concealed carry permit,” Layne said, “so I do legally carry a gun in my purse, but unless I’m attacked, I have no plans to use it.”
“Whew,” Erik pretended a sigh, “glad to hear that.” He paused for a moment. “Tell you what,” he went on with a chuckle, “I promise not to assault you if you promise not to shoot me. Can we make a deal on that?”
“Maybe later, but not right now,” Layne answered. “And I have one more condition, for now.”
Erik sighed for real. “What is it this time?”
“I’ll drive to your place. I don’t want to be stuck out there without a way home, if things don’t go well.”
“Things will go well, Miss Martin. Believe me. There’s no need for you to drive out here. I’ll come in and pick you up.”
“Sorry, Mr. Rivers, I will drive out there. What time should I show up?”
By the tone of her answer, it was obvious this was going to be one of those very rare times he lost a battle of wills, and he wasn’t happy about it. “Six-thirty.”
“Okay, six-thirty. How should I dress?”
“A pretty dress will be fine,” came his curt reply.
“It would help if I knew where we were going,” she said. “Merely telling me to wear a pretty dress is not much help.”
Erik sighed again. “I’ll be wearing a suit, if that helps. Not a tux, just a suit. We will be eating in a very classy restaurant, if that helps. So all I can tell you is, wear a pretty dress.”
“Okay, thank you, you’ve been a great help. Good bye.” She stabbed her cell phone off and threw it upon the bed. A pretty dress! Good grief! That certainly narrows it down, Layne thought, rummaging through her closet.
Soon, at least a dozen dresses were laid out upon her bed, and she was far, far from making a decision. Maybe, she smiled at the thought, this could be a great way of making him back out of this stupid deal. If she just kept bugging him . . .