past on his face at all.
Jared and his mother spoke for a few more minutes, promising to meet the next day for lunch. Rachel used the time to collect herself and gather her wits. No damage had been done, she decided. If she played her cards right, and was careful, Jared might just think her career in modeling was all she'd been hiding.
"So," he said after his mother had returned to her table of friends.
Rachel pleated her napkin against her lap.
"A model, huh?"
Her stomach knotted. "Yes."
Silence stretched uneasily between them, broken only by the tinkling of fine crystal and silver, and the violinists, who paused at their table for a moment, then moved on.
Jared and Rachel placed their orders with Thomas. When the meal arrived, Rachel picked at the crab meat on her plate, her appetite squelched under Jared's steady, heated regard.
His gaze locked on her face. "I thought most models were just empty – headed decoration."
"I believe you just answered your own question," Rachel said, sticking with the half – truth she'd given him earlier in the day.
It only took him a moment to follow what she meant. "You think if I'd known you'd been a model, I wouldn't have taken you seriously when you applied for the job."
"Can you deny it?"
His brows came together over the bridge of his nose. "Yes, I can and do deny it."
"Even after that statement you just made?"
He pursed his lips and gave her a wry grin. " Touché. I guess I'm not quite as fair – minded as I thought."
"Most people aren't," Rachel muttered.
They fell silent for a few minutes, until Jared asked, "How did you get to be such a good secretary?"
"So you admit I'm a good secretary?"
"That was never in question. I'd just like to know how it happened. Why did you change careers? Judging by the reaction you've received here, I'm surprised you'd give up that kind of fame and fortune."
Rachel lowered her gaze and swirled her fork around in her food. "It did pay well. But that kind of life, always in the public eye, can be pretty crazy. I got tired of living in the middle of a three – ring circus. I needed a little sanity. A slower pace. Something more stable."
"But why a secretary? Most women I know think being a secretary is . . . demeaning, or something. I thought all women wanted to be the boss these days."
"Not all women." Rachel shook her head slightly. Her gaze swept up to his, then down again as she sipped her wine. "I've never thought of it as demeaning. It's what I'd always wanted to be, before I took up modeling. I like to work with details. I like to type. I like to organize things. When I retired from modeling I went back to school and took the courses I needed to get me started."
She gave a sad little chuckle. "No executive can survive without a secretary or assistant. I used to think that if I was good enough at my job, I'd have some security. As long as I did my work, and did it well, I'd be needed. I've learned the hard way — that's not always true."
Jared started to speak, then stopped as the waiter appeared to clear away their plates and offer desert. Jared and Rachel both declined the sweets.
Jared studied her a moment longer, then signaled for the check.
On the way to the elevator, he placed his hand, without thinking, on the bare skin of her lower back. But even when she flinched at his touch, he couldn't bring himself to take his hand away. He kept it there against her silken flesh and guided her through the throngs of people.
Each slight movement of his fingers seemed to make Rachel shiver. By the time they reached her room a few minutes later, she was shaking so hard he had to take the key from her icy fingers and open the door for her.
What now? Rachel's frantic mind cried. Somewhere along the way, her nerve had disappeared completely and left her defenseless. Whatever happened now would be entirely her fault. He didn't know about her past,
Jared and his mother spoke for a few more minutes, promising to meet the next day for lunch. Rachel used the time to collect herself and gather her wits. No damage had been done, she decided. If she played her cards right, and was careful, Jared might just think her career in modeling was all she'd been hiding.
"So," he said after his mother had returned to her table of friends.
Rachel pleated her napkin against her lap.
"A model, huh?"
Her stomach knotted. "Yes."
Silence stretched uneasily between them, broken only by the tinkling of fine crystal and silver, and the violinists, who paused at their table for a moment, then moved on.
Jared and Rachel placed their orders with Thomas. When the meal arrived, Rachel picked at the crab meat on her plate, her appetite squelched under Jared's steady, heated regard.
His gaze locked on her face. "I thought most models were just empty – headed decoration."
"I believe you just answered your own question," Rachel said, sticking with the half – truth she'd given him earlier in the day.
It only took him a moment to follow what she meant. "You think if I'd known you'd been a model, I wouldn't have taken you seriously when you applied for the job."
"Can you deny it?"
His brows came together over the bridge of his nose. "Yes, I can and do deny it."
"Even after that statement you just made?"
He pursed his lips and gave her a wry grin. " Touché. I guess I'm not quite as fair – minded as I thought."
"Most people aren't," Rachel muttered.
They fell silent for a few minutes, until Jared asked, "How did you get to be such a good secretary?"
"So you admit I'm a good secretary?"
"That was never in question. I'd just like to know how it happened. Why did you change careers? Judging by the reaction you've received here, I'm surprised you'd give up that kind of fame and fortune."
Rachel lowered her gaze and swirled her fork around in her food. "It did pay well. But that kind of life, always in the public eye, can be pretty crazy. I got tired of living in the middle of a three – ring circus. I needed a little sanity. A slower pace. Something more stable."
"But why a secretary? Most women I know think being a secretary is . . . demeaning, or something. I thought all women wanted to be the boss these days."
"Not all women." Rachel shook her head slightly. Her gaze swept up to his, then down again as she sipped her wine. "I've never thought of it as demeaning. It's what I'd always wanted to be, before I took up modeling. I like to work with details. I like to type. I like to organize things. When I retired from modeling I went back to school and took the courses I needed to get me started."
She gave a sad little chuckle. "No executive can survive without a secretary or assistant. I used to think that if I was good enough at my job, I'd have some security. As long as I did my work, and did it well, I'd be needed. I've learned the hard way — that's not always true."
Jared started to speak, then stopped as the waiter appeared to clear away their plates and offer desert. Jared and Rachel both declined the sweets.
Jared studied her a moment longer, then signaled for the check.
On the way to the elevator, he placed his hand, without thinking, on the bare skin of her lower back. But even when she flinched at his touch, he couldn't bring himself to take his hand away. He kept it there against her silken flesh and guided her through the throngs of people.
Each slight movement of his fingers seemed to make Rachel shiver. By the time they reached her room a few minutes later, she was shaking so hard he had to take the key from her icy fingers and open the door for her.
What now? Rachel's frantic mind cried. Somewhere along the way, her nerve had disappeared completely and left her defenseless. Whatever happened now would be entirely her fault. He didn't know about her past,
Similar Books
