The Doll Brokers (11 page)

That surprised her. “You do?”

“Of course. What do you think? I've never traveled before? I was here last spring. A group of artist friends decided it was time to stir the muse in all of us.” He turned to the driver. “To the Melia,
por favor.
”

Ann settled back in her seat, rubbed her forehead and stared straight ahead. “We've got a great product. This stop shouldn't have gone so badly.”

“You've got Markie-Poo in London wrapped around your finger.”

“And I just lost Spain.” She thought about it. “No, I didn't. Marques never intended to give us a commitment.”

“Is that why you wouldn't let him have a sample?”

“If I had, within ten weeks every store shelf in Spain would have been stocked with a Baby Talk N Glow replica. They're famous for their knock-offs. He was trying to angle something out of me that he could copy.”

“Or you bailed,” he said.

“No, I didn't. I wanted to stay. Except for the fact that he was groping me.”

Jonathan felt something hard prod him in the chest. “Where?”

“In the restaurant. Under the table.”

“No, I meant which part of your … anatomy.”

She cut him another look. “This interests you for some reason?”

“Yeah.”

“My leg.”

“And you let him?”

She elbowed him lightly in the ribs.

“This is bad, right?” he asked finally. “Losing Spain.”

“It's bad.”

The car stopped in front of their hotel, but he didn't open the door. “What are you going to tell Felicia?”

She never hesitated. “Not a word.”

“You're going to lie to her about it?”

“Of course not. I'm going to evade her.”

“Can you do that?”

“Until I have some good news to tell her, yes.”

Her skin seemed stretched over her cheekbones and wore an almost bluish cast. Then her eyes sparked again with that familiar grit. “Are you going to sit here staring at me all day or can we go inside?” she snapped.

There, he thought, was the Ann he knew. “Where are we off to tomorrow?”

“It's a secret,” she teased. “You'll have to wait and see.”

“I think I'm going to pour more liquor into you tonight and get your secrets out onto the table.”

“After I sleep. I need a second wind, then maybe I'll dance on a few tables for you.”

She pushed on her door and got out of the car. Jonathan retrieved their luggage. He kept his gaze slanted her way as she strode into the lobby. Her legs were steady enough but there was definitely something off in the set of her shoulders. It was the kind of detail his painter's eye would catch. The arrogance was gone, he thought.

She was scared, he realized. What had she said?
Spain shouldn't have gone this badly?

Yeah, he thought, he'd ply her with liquor and dig into her for details. But was that all he really wanted? Details of their itinerary? An explanation of why she was so worried? Or was he hiding the truth of his true motives, even from himself?

A
nn was halfway across The Melia's mammoth entranceway when she heard her name being called. She couldn't place the voice so she looked around. She spotted Sidney Greenspan, tall and corpulent, hurrying toward her from a bar off the hotel lobby. In Madrid. In the same hotel Jonathan had chosen. Ann felt her chances at sleep sliding through her fingers like sand.

Greenspan took her hand in his and gave it a vigorous pump. “What in the world are you doing in Spain?”

He knew about Baby Talk N Glow, she thought. He had been at the coming-out party Felicia had thrown for the doll. “We've been to see Seve Marques.”

“How did it go?”

“It went.”

“I heard you couldn't get financing,” he said.

Her heart kicked. How had word of
that
gotten out? “A nasty rumor, nothing more.”

“You did get a bank, then?”

“Of course, we did.”

“And Marques was enthusiastic?”

“Exactly the reaction I expected,” she said without lying. The last thing she needed was for rumors of this trip to get back to the States before she did.

“We just arrived,” Greenspan said. “We're making a little vacation of it.”

Ann looked towards the bar and saw his wife's face peering out at them through a trellis-like partition. She was as pretty as ever, with her abundance of red hair partly shadowing her overly made-up face.

The woman wiggled her fingers at her and she gave a wave back. God, she's young, Ann thought, not for the first time.

Jonathan stepped up to shake Greenspan's hand. “Good to see you, Sidney.”

“You two are here together?” Greenspan asked, sounding surprised.

“We're just one big happy family,” Jonathan offered, placing a possessive hand on Ann's shoulder.

Now what the hell was he up to? Ann half turned to him. “Have you lost your mind?” she breathed in an undertone.

“I'm just eccentric,” he murmured back.

Greenspan's mouth gaped. “I didn't realize you two were … close.”

“We're not,” Ann said. “Jonathan is interested in our new doll, so he made this trip with me.”

“Ah—I see.” He paused. “Have you both eaten? Charlie and I were just about to grab a bite in the bar. Why don't you join us?”

Ann heard her stomach grumble. She pressed a hand there, embarrassed. “Maybe a drink,” she said.

Jonathan made a sound in his throat. But to his credit, she thought, he swallowed whatever he'd been about to say. She pivoted to face him. “I've gotten my second wind,” she whispered.

“You're whacked.” He dropped his voice as well so Greenspan wouldn't overhear. “And you don't need one more guy slobbering over you.”

“Sidney doesn't slobber,” she said. “He's married.”

“Sure, that'll stop him. Let me make our excuses.”

Something caught in her chest. It was the second—maybe even the third—time in as many days that he had tried to step in to save her. “I wish I had a choice, Jonathan, but I don't. I have to show strength. If I slink out of here now with my tail between my legs, word of it will spread.”

She turned back to Greenspan. “We've got a little while,” she said. “I'd like to say hello to Charlie.”

“And I'll take care of checking us in,” Jonathan offered.

She flicked a glance back at him. “Thanks. What should I order for you?”

“I'll take a Sierra, if they have one.”

She followed Greenspan into the bar and endured a momentary hug from Charlie. The younger woman was overripe with perfume and she didn't seem to want to let Ann go.

Ann sat. “Is any part of your trip business?” she asked. “Or is it strictly a vacation?”

“A little of both,” Greenspan answered. “I'll move on next week and take care of business, while Charlie will head home.”

A waitress approached. Ann ordered a Sierra and her usual.

Sidney began pumping her for information. He was usually the nosy type but something felt strange here, listening to what was starting to sound like an inquisition. She ignored him for the most part and engaged Charlie in conversation instead, asking if this was her first trip to Spain.

“Me?” The younger woman laughed. “Why, no, darling.” She placed a hand on her husband's arm. “Sidney enjoys taking me practically everywhere. Isn't that right, honey?”

Sidney tried to steer the conversation back to where he obviously wanted it to go, just as Jonathan showed up.

“What did I miss?” he asked, pulling a chair out beside Ann. She had never been so glad to see him.

He caught her expression and winked. Then he grinned at the
beer that was waiting for him. “I love Madrid,” he said. He took a long sip, then turned to Ann. “Want to dance?”

She looked up at him, startled. “Are you serious?”

He nodded. “Table-top, or will the floor do?”

“I'd prefer the floor.”

“Glad to hear it. Let's go see if they know any good funeral dirges.”

“I don't understand,” Sidney said.

“You're not meant to,” Jonathan answered. He stood and Ann let him take her hand. He helped her to her feet and she followed him onto the tiny dance floor.

Whatever the musicians were playing sounded moody and sweet. Ann had no idea what the Spanish words meant, but to her ears it felt like heartache and love. Jonathan's hand found her waist. She wondered what exactly was going on, but she let her body flow into his. A not entirely unpleasant heat seemed to radiate between them.

She really despised him for making her feel so good, for the sensation in the pit of her stomach that made her want to settle in and stay there, rather than pull away.

“Thanks,” she said, interpreting his gesture. “I couldn't bear Greenspan's company for another minute.”

“Me neither,
cara mia
.”

She felt a laugh tickle her throat. “When did you get to be so nice?”

“Along about your fourth glass of wine. Or maybe it was the first Glenlivet.”

“So it'll pass by morning?”

“Let's hope so.”

Ann laughed. Then she groaned and rested her forehead against his shoulder. “God, I'm tired.”

“We'll be home before you know it, and this'll all be a memory.”

She thought she felt his hand stroking between her shoulder
blades. She had
definitely
had too much to drink. “No, it won't,” she said. “We've got to do the rounds of the American retailers next.”
We?
Had she actually said
we?

“When does this happen?”

“Week after next.”

“You've got to be kidding.”

“You don't have to go.”

“Wouldn't miss it for the world.” He moved his other arm to her waist and coaxed her even closer. “Ann?”

“Hmm?”

“How do you feel about dancing with Mr. Greenspan?”

“Why?”

“He's heading this way with a cut-in look on his face.”

“Are your Sir Lancelot instincts still in place?”

“They're the best part of me.”

She snorted. “Prove it.”

He caught his foot around her ankle and tripped her.

She almost went down. All that saved her was his arms around her waist. Ann tightened her grip around his neck long enough to grab back her equilibrium, then she let go and punched him. “What … was that?” She was so angry she was sputtering.

“Are you hurt?”

“I—”

“Can you dance?”

She felt a hand on her shoulder from behind. “What?” she snarled, turning about.

Greenspan took a startled step back. “Ann, what happened? Are you all right?”

“Of course, she's not,” Jonathan said. “Look at her. She can hardly stand.”

Ann listed quickly in his direction.

“I'm going to take her upstairs so she can get off her feet.”

Ann nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

Greenspan made sympathetic clucking sounds. When they returned to the table, Charlie looked like she could cry. Was it out of sympathy for Ann's injury or because she would be left alone with her husband?

“Don't forget to limp,” Jonathan whispered as they left the bar.

“I don't have to fake it.” She gave him another shot in the arm for good measure.

“Hey, I saved you from having to dance with those sweaty paws of his. Where's your gratitude?”

She gave a little shudder at the thought of Greenspan's hands on her. They stepped off the elevator on their floor. “You know, he's going to tell everyone in New York that we're having an affair.”

“Well, we're not. Hold up there.” He caught her elbow and pulled her to a stop. “This is your room.”

“If word gets back to Carmen, you could be in trouble.”

“You have a hell of a memory for names.”

She grabbed the key from his hand and opened the door. She thought of saying something profound but found herself at a sudden loss for words. “Good night,” she said abruptly. And she stepped inside her room, quickly closed the door behind her.

“I
am sorry,
monsieur, madame
, the plane has had mechanical difficulties in New York. You are rescheduled for tomorrow morning. We have arranged…”

Ann blocked out the rest of the words. This couldn't be happening. Not after the kind of week they had had. She looked at Jonathan, then back at the airline clerk. She wanted to scream, at the very least throw something at somebody.

They had left Spain without a commitment for Baby Talk N Glow, which had not been a surprise, but disappointing, nonetheless. And she could almost accept their Italian distributor's commitment of forty thousand pieces, pre-warned as she was that the doll's skin coloring might be too light to afford a huge success in his market. But Germany's forecast of one hundred and twenty thousand reduced to eighty rubbed her raw. And here on their last stop, in France, Ann had been nearly driven to distraction. Charles La Croix, who had always been a strong ally of Hart Toy, had spent their entire meeting decrying the state of the toy industry, and the doll segment in particular. Ann had counted on a commitment of one hundred thousand pieces—the French population was almost as large as that of the U.K., with a potential toy volume to match—yet all they could squeak out was a mere fifty thousand.

“Ann—what do you think?” Jonathan was asking her.

“Huh?” She tried to refocus.

“Oh, never mind.” He turned back to the clerk and took something from him, then proceeded to lead her away.

“What was that all about?” Ann asked, shrugging off the hand that was gripping her elbow.

“What was what about?”