Angie didn’t seem at all disturbed by the silence. “I think just about everyone else is here. If you’ll come this way …”
Marni and Edgar followed her to a door, then through it into what was very obviously the studio. It was a huge room, as brightly lit as the reception area had been. Its central focus was a seamless expanse of white wall, curving from the ceiling to the floor without a break. Numerous lights, reflecting panels and other paraphernalia were scattered around the area, and at the center was a tripod and camera.
Marni absorbed all of this in a moment, for that was all the time she was given. Anne was quickly at her side, introducing her to Webster’s chief assistant and to the others who’d be aiding in one way or another. Marni was beginning to feel very much like a fish in a bowl when Anne said, “Brian will be back in a minute. Angie’s gone to call him down.”
“Down?”
“He lives upstairs. When he saw that everything was set up here, he went back to make a few phone calls.” Her gaze skipped past Marni, and she smiled. “There he is now. Come. I’ll introduce you.”
Marni turned obediently, but at the sight of the tall, dark-haired man approaching, her pulse tripped. A face from the past … yet vaguely different; she had to be imagining. But she was frozen to the spot, staring in disbelief as he drew nearer. Webster was a common name … it wouldn’t be him, nothim.But he was looking at her, too, and his eyes said she wasn’t mistaken. Those blue eyes … she could never mistake those eyes!
Her breath was caught in her throat, and her heart began to hammer at her chest as though it were caught, trapped, locked in a place it didn’t want to be. Which was exactly the way she felt herself. “Oh, no,” she whispered in dismay.
Anne felt both her momentary paralysis and the ensuing trembling. “It’s okay,” she murmured soothingly by Marni’s ear. “He may be gorgeous, but he’s a nice guy to boot.”
Marni barely heard her. She stared, stunned and shaken, as Brian Webster approached. His eyes were on her, as they’d been from die moment she’d turned and caught sight of him, but they held none of the shock Marni’s did. He’d known, she realized. Of course. He’d known. There was only one Lange Corporation, and only one Marni Lange to go with it. But Webster? It was a common name, as was Brian. Not that it would have made a difference. Around her house he’d been referred to as “that wild kid” or simply “him.” As for Marni, she’d never even known his first name. He’d been “Web” to her.
“Brian,” Anne was saying brightly, “this is Marni.”
He’d stopped two feet away, taking in the look in Marni’s eyes, the ashen hue of her skin, her frozen stance. “I know,” he said softly, his voice barely carrying over the animated chatter of the others in the room. “We’ve met before.”
“You’ve met … but I don’t understand.” Anne turned confused eyes on Marni. “You didn’t say …” Her words trailed off. She’d never seen a human being turn into a shadow before, but that was exactly what seemed to be happening. “Marni?” she asked worriedly. “Are you all right?”
It was Web who answered, his eyes still glued to Marni’s. “I think she needs a minute alone.” He took her arm gently, adding to Anne, “We’ll be back soon. Coffee and doughnuts are on the way, so that should keep everyone satisfied until we’re ready.” His fingers tightened fractionally, and he led Marni back across the floor. She wasn’t sure if he was afraid she’d make a scene and resist, or if he simply sensed she needed the support. As it was, she could do nothing but go along with him. Her mind was in too great a turmoil to allow for any other action.
The din of the studio died the minute Web closed the door behind them. They were in a bright hall off which no less than half a dozen doors led, but it was to the open spiral staircase that he guided her, then up through another door and into the large living room that was obviously his own. Natural light poured through skylights to give the simply but elegantly furnished room an aura of cheer, but none of that cheer seeped into Marni, who was encased in a crowding prison of memory.
He led her to a chrome-framed, cushioned chair, eased her down, then turned and headed for the bar.
Marni watched him go. He moved with the same fluidity, the same stealthy grace he’d possessed years before when she’d known him. He seemed taller, though perhaps he’d just filled out in maturity. His legs were lean and long as they’d been then, though they were sheathed in clean, stylishly stitched, buttonfly jeans rather than the faded, worn denim he had once sported. The muscle-hugging T-shirt had been replaced with a more reputable chambray shirt, rolled to the elbows and open at the neck. His shoulders seemed broader, his hair definitely shorter and darker.
He’d aged well.
“I know it’s a little early in the day to imbibe,” he said, giving a brittle smile as he returned to her, “but I think you ought to drink this.” He placed a wineglass in her shaky fingers, then watched while she took a healthy swallow of the pale amber liquid. Her eyes didn’t leave his, not while she drank, nor when he crossed to the nearby sofa and sat down.
He propped his elbows on his outspread thighs and dangled his hands between his knees. “You didn’t know,” he stated in a very quiet voice.
Marni took another swallow of wine, then slowly shook her head.
He was grateful to see that she’d stopped shaking, and could only hope that a little more wine would restore the color to her cheeks. He sympathized with her, could understand what she was feeling. He’d been living with the same feelings for the past three months, ever since he’d first been approached byClass.And those feelings had only intensified when he’d learned that the editorial staff had decided to use the chief executive officer on its first cover.
He’d had the advantage that Marni hadn’t, and still he was stunned seeing her, being with her after all that had happened fourteen years before.
“I’m sorry,” he said, meaning it. “I thought for sure that you’d have been involved on some level when the decision was made to hire me.”
“I was,” Marni heard herself say. Her voice was distant, weak, and it didn’t sound at all like her own. She took a deep, unsteady breath and went on, trying to sound more like the executive she was. “I’ve been involved with every major decision involvingClass,including the one to hire you. But I never knew your name was Brian, and even if I had I probably would never have guessedtheBrian Webster to be you.”
His half smile was chilly. “I’ve come a ways since we knew each other.”
“That’s two of us,” she murmured somberly. She looked down at her glass, looked back at Web, then finally took another swallow. Afterward she clutched the stem of the wineglass with both hands and frowned at her whitened knuckles. “I had bad vibes about this from the start. Right from the start.”
“About hiring me?”
“About posing for the cover. I argued with my people for a good long time, but I’ve always been one to delegate authority. In the end I told myself that they were specialists and had to know what they were doing. I couldn’t possibly have known who you were, but I wasstillreluctant to do it. I shouldn’t have agreed.” She punctuated her words with one harsh nod, then another. “I should have stuck to my guns.”
There was a lengthy silence in the room. As long as Marni was thinking of business, as long as she wasn’t looking at Web, she felt better. Maybe the wine had helped. Tipping her head back, she drained the glass.
“I think they’re right,” Web said softly.
