Page 62 of Fire

After their waiter arrived, food ordered—she ended up getting the Caesar—and drinks delivered, Frank turned his attention to Gwen. “So, I suppose you’re wondering why I asked you here.”

“Something like that,” she said, taking a sip of her iced tea.

“I’m starting a new project. Something a little different. I’d like to hire you as head of costuming.”

She carefully set her glass down after nearly choking on its contents at the same time hearing a barely discernible gasp from Allie.

Gwen cleared her throat. “Not to sound ungrateful, because in no way am I,” she stressed, “but we only met yesterday. You know nothing about me.”

He had the grace to look sheepish, but onlyjust, when he said, “After you left yesterday, I made some inquiries at Coleman’s.” He held up a hand when she was about to protest. “Don’t worry, I informed them I was trying to steal you away and not that you were actively seeking other employment. In fact, I told Sheila you knew nothing about it.”

“You spoke with Sheila?” Sheila was off on Sundays. He must have some pull to get her home number.

“I’m friends with the owner,” he said as if that explained everything. And, let’s be honest, it did.

“Again, not to sound unappreciative or argumentative, but why me?” A pointy toe kicked the side of her calf, and she turned her head toward Allie—so Frank couldn’t see—and mouthed,ouch,while giving her awhat the heck did you do that forlook.

Allie’s bug-eyed stare said,shut up and take the job.

Again, he looked sheepish, and she didn’t understand why until he said, “Not to sound toonew ageor as if I’m feeding you a bunch of BS but, I feel things.” At her raised brow, he continued, “Maybe it’s from being in the business for as long as I have or dealing with so many people with a variety of personalities on a daily basis or maybe it’s a natural gift, but I can take one look at a person and know if they have star potential. And, not to toot my own horn, but I have a shelf of Oscars and Emmys that prove my claim.”

“But I’m not an actress.”

“A star doesn’t only refer to acting. I can foresee a star in any field. I can spot the best directors, the best makeup artists,” he tipped his head, “someone who has an eye for fashion. And you, Gwen, shine bright. I can see it.”

“I’m flattered, really, but this is all coming from left field. I don’t know what to say.”

He shrugged. “Say you’ll think about it.”

She nodded. She could do that. Though the prospect of leaving her stable job for something unknown scared her to death. But to even consider it, she’d need more information. “What kind of a project is it?”

Again, sheepishness filled his expression. Wow, he really had that look down pat.

“Because it’s asecretproject, I’d need you to sign an NDA before I can share any of the details.”

Their food arrived, giving her a few minutes to think. She couldn’t make an informed decision without knowing the details and couldn’t know the details without signing a non-disclosure agreement—something she’d never had to do before and so made her a little leery. Although, in his line of work with everyone trying to one-up everyone else, she supposed she could understand.

After their waiter left, he went on. “I had a contract drawn up, just in case. You can come to my office, sign it, and I’ll answer any questions you have.”

Did that sound pushy or was it just paranoia? “Can I think about that, too?” She received another jab on her leg, and she threw Allie a discreet glare. She’d have a bruise tomorrow for sure.

“Of course, but please let me know within a few days. All decisions on this project are time sensitive.”

No pressure or anything. “I won’t take too long to decide.”

“You still have my card?” At her nod, he replied, “Great.” Then he picked up his fork and started eating as if the discussion were over. And she guessed it was, considering they couldn’t talk about anything until she signed papers.

Following suit, she dived into her salad and didn’t stop until she’d speared the last ten-dollar crouton.

“So, what do you think?” Allie asked on the drive home.

“I don’t know. What do you think?”

“I think it doesn’t hurt to sign the papers to at least hear what it’s all about.”

Gwen dropped her head back and closed her eyes, pissed at herself because she wished she could call Blake and ask his opinion. Then got even more pissed because she’d thought of Blake.

Again.

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