No easy way out (9 page)

The green all-clear signal flashed on. Virginia wiped her hands,
which were damp with perspiration, on pleated olive twill trousers,
took a deep breath, pasted a sickly smile on her face, and let her
khaki leather sport shoes drag her reluctant anatomy into the
lab.

"Good morning, Doctor." Alex looked up, a testing probe in his
hand, and flashed her a brief smile.

Virginia swallowed and managed to speak past the uncomfortable
lump in her throat to parrot his greeting. As she slid a lab coat
over her desert-toned checked shirt she found her gaze had drifted
back to study her work-engrossed colleague.

Alex looked different this morning. Gone was the formal
three-piece business suit he'd worn on their initial meeting. In
its place were casual work clothes: well-cut boot-length denims and
a close-fitting cream and navy pullover. He was more approachable.
More like the Bandit. Sleek, powerful, and full of animal
energy.

Suddenly Virginia felt an all-consuming need to approach him.
Tucking a few stray wisps of hair into her sleek yet feminine
chignon, she moved closer to his work table. "Well, you certainly
didn't exaggerate when you said the lab was back to normal." She
looked with approval at the neat equipment racks lining the
previously unoccupied south wall. "You must have been here half the
night."

Alex switched off the probe, scribbled a few notations on his
clipboard pad, then tossed his pencil aside. "I could sense how
important order was to you, Doctor."

She turned her face away and winced. Yesterday's impression was
not the same as the one made Halloween night. Virginia moistened
her lips and put a lilt in her voice. "You'll be surprised to learn
that when I work I'm rather like Hansel and Gretel, leaving a trail
of instruments and crumbled notes behind me.

"Now, I find that very difficult to believe." He shook his head,
a lock of silver-etched dark hair falling across his forehead. "I
picture your work habits like a well-orchestrated assembly
line-neat, clean, and precise."

Virginia yanked a pen from her breast pocket and clicked it
furiously. Being compared to mechanized automation was getting on
her nerves! "Well, that just shows you how wrong first impressions
can be," came her childish retort.

Alex stood in front of her, his smoke-colored eyes level with
her iridescent blue ones. "I'm a great believer in first
impressions," came his languid rejoiner. "Now, your sister... well,
Ginger I can visualize as being"-Alex's eyes grew brighter, his
lips curving into a reminiscent smile-"enchantingly
disorganized."

Virginia's features turned to granite. "You mean slovenly."

"Enticingly tousled," he continued, his Southern drawl growing
more pronounced.

"Messy and unkempt," she grated through clenched teeth.

"Sensual and alluring."

"Cheap and brazen!"

"My goodness." Alex's brow arched in surprise.

"I had no idea there was such a rivalry between the two of
you."

"Rivalry! There's no rivalry!" Virginia all but exploded, the
ballpoint pen stabbing the air near his chest. "I just know Ginger
for what she really is. Your memories are colored by moonlight,
music, and martinis!"

He rescued the pen from her white-knuckled hand. "You might be
right." Alex's face turned serious. His gaze darkened and locked
onto hers. "But then I'll discover how right or wrong I am on
Friday night." His long, capable fingers slid the ballpoint down
her shoulder into her breast pocket.

"By the way," he adroitly turned the conversation back to
business, "your robot is over there with a twenty-page trouble
ticket. I'm working on the solar battery for him right now."

Virginia took a deep, steadying breath, tried to ignore the
tingling sensation in her left breast, and moved past him to tackle
a less physically and mentally disturbing problem.

"He's driving me crazy!" The plastic catsup container made a
wheezing sound as Virginia viciously strangled its middle. "All
Alex talks about is Ginger, Ginger, Ginger! She's sooo wonderful!"
Virginia mimicked in a catty, nasal tone.

Diane poured a neat dab of catsup on one corner of her cardboard
container, picked up a crisp, golden french fry, and elegantly
dipped it into the condiment.

"You know," Virginia continued roughly, throwing open her
hamburger bun, "men are the most fickle, easily dazzled creatures
on God's green earth." She removed two pickles, squirted on more
catsup, then smashed the bun back together. "All Alex remembers is
some blond sex goddess by moonlight. He's not interested in a real
woman-just a lustful fantasy."

Diane took a dainty bite of her chicken sandwich and shrugged in
silent consideration.

"It would serve that man right if Ginger did go out with him
tomorrow," Virginia mumbled through a mouthful of beef, tomatoes,
cheese, and onions. She swallowed, her eyes narrowing menacingly.
"I don't think Alex could tolerate an evening of breathless gasps,
cutesy, illiterate trivia, and a body propelled by nonstop
hormones."

Diane nodded mutely, wiped her mouth on a napkin emblazoned with
golden arches, and took a sip of black coffee.

"Three hours
tops,
and Ginger would disgust him."
Virginia stabbed the air with a catsup-laden french fry. "Alex is
an intelligent, highly educated engineer. Why would he want to
pursue a creature like Ginger? What could they possibly have in
common? No, no, I'm sure he'd be bored to tears."

Diane merely shrugged and nodded again, picking up the salt
shaker to reenhance the french fries.

"I've been working with Alex for three days now, and I know a
lot more about him than I did last weekend," Virginia explained on
a much calmer note. "He is brilliant in his work. I've watched him
agonize over minor details, exhaust himself on alternatives, and
casually dismiss his successes."

Her lips curved into a soft smile, her blue eyes glittering in
the colors of a prism. "He asks my opinion and takes my
suggestions. And, Diane, he gets more excited about my
accomplishments than I do." Virginia could almost feel Alex's hand
on her shoulders, giving her a complimentary squeeze.

She exhaled a rather dreamy sigh and propped her glowing cheeks
in her hands. "We've been taking our coffee breaks together in the
lounge. I know all about the projects he's worked on, his life in
New Orleans, his apartment, and his family. His parents sound
wonderful, and he's got three sisters and two brothers and a slew
of nieces and nephews."

Her hand hit the small wooden restaurant table, sending a shower
of cola and coffee over the assorted disposable dinnerware. "That's
why I don't understand his preoccupation with-Ginger." She spat the
word out with extreme distaste. "Every time we work together Alex
has to bring her name into the conversation.

"She's charming, she's sensuous, she's alluring, she's
adorable," Virginia mimicked, then grew angry. "I'm sturdy,
industrious, sensible, inventive, and dependable. I sound like a
pair of orthopedic shoes!

"To me Alex is more than the Bandit on the balcony. He has
depth, feelings, and meaning," she said in a rough tone. "And yet
all he thinks about is that harebrain, Ginger. What's the matter
with him?

You'd think a man like that would want substance rather than
fluff." Virginia's fist slapped the table again. "I'm willing to
bet that an evening of whipped cream will have him craving
potatoes."

Diane calmly collected the garbage and arranged it in neat order
on the plastic tray. "Since you're already stocked with potatoes, I
think we better go shopping for the whipped cream."

"Huh? Virginia blinked at her in dumb confusion.

"Ginger would never wear sensible tweeds and broadcloth. And
while we have perked up your wardrobe to some degree, there is
nothing truly glamorous hanging in your closet." Diane rubbed her
hands together with enthusiasm. "The stores are open late tonight.
We'll find the most stunning, suggestive, enticing clothes in town.
Tomorrow night you'll set Alex's pulse racing and make his wildest
fantasies come true."

"I ... I will?"

She nodded solemnly, stood up, and literally dragged Virginia
from her chair. "Don't worry about a thing." Diane patted the cold,
clammy hand trapped between hers. "I'll design the gun-all you have
to do is pull the trigger."

Virginia sat on a pink boudoir stool in the center of a
pink-and-orange-striped dressing room and stared into the
wraparound mirrors. Hanging on assorted hooks was a collection of
fashions that bared more than they covered and seeming to guarantee
a most smoldering night. But the mousy, shy, uneasy woman who had
spent two hours trying on creations of glitter and glamour suddenly
knew she couldn't pull it off.

"The saleswoman is writing up the order," Diane said, poking her
head through the opening in the orange curtain. "What's the
matter?"

"Everything." Virginia pointed at her reflection and shook her
head in disgust. "What about this?" Her hands clutched fistfuls of
drab, lifeless hair that had snapped its rubber-banded bonds and
tumbled haphazardly about her shoulders. "Ginger's a blonde. How
can I be a brunette tomorrow morning and a blonde tomorrow
night?"

"Well..." Diane's mouth twisted expressively. "I was going to
suggest a wig . . . but with Alex's penchant for ruffling fingers
through your hair-"

"He'd think he'd scalped me!" Virginia finished morosely. She
closed her eyes and groaned. "It's not going to work. It's dumb and
high schoolish. It just won't work." Her eyes flew open. "Why don't
we kill her? A car crash on the way home from the airport?" She
looked hopeful.

Diane shook her head. "He'd want to go to the funeral." She
rubbed her chin for a thoughtful moment, then snapped her fingers.
"I should have thought of this before. I'll call Joan."

"Joan?"

"Joan Enright-she's my neighbor. She works for the best hair
salon in L.A.," Diane explained, her blue eyes regaining their
former enthusiastic glow.

"You get dressed. I'll give her a call and explain our
problem."

"I don't know, Di." Virginia's voice was muffled by the cinnamon
sweat-shirt dress she was pulling over her head. "I felt more
confident with a costume and mask."

"Your clothes will be your costume; makeup and hair will be your
mask," Diane told her in a tone of patient forbearance. "You're the
one who wants to show Alex that whipped cream, while tempting, is
also sickening. One night should do it!"

"Then, why did we buy half a dozen outfits?" she countered with
heavy sarcasm as she wrapped a leather sash around her slim
waist.

Diane flashed her a lurid grin. "That's just in case
you
decide that you like being fluff instead of substance."

Virginia finished dressing while Diane ran off to call Joan.
Examining the clothes hanging on the dressing room hooks, she slid
them off and threw them over her arm. As she walked toward the
cashier she saw Diane hurrying across the floor toward her.
Excitement was brimming in her eyes. "It's all set. We'll go
straight to Joan's from here."

Virginia wriggled in self-conscious discomfort beneath the
flowing plastic cape and eyed her two companions. They discussed
her as if she weren't even there.

Diane, her petite figure cocooned in a pale-blue jogging suit,
was curled on a wooden captain's chair recounting the Halloween
affair in rich detail between sips of coffee and drags on
cigarettes.

Joan Enright, a small-boned blonde with a pixie haircut and
enormous liquid brown eyes, was alternately laughing and ohhing and
ahhing over the incident while she lifted and studied Virginia's
hair from various angles. "I think the perfect solution is
cellophaning," she announced, turning at once into the consummate
professional.

At Virginia's raised brow Joan smiled and gave her shoulder a
comforting squeeze. "I'll strip the color from selected strands all
over your head. By using temporary rinses we can make you a blonde
or brunette at will."

She took a comb and small precision scissors from the pocket of
her green uniform. "You've got great hair, with a natural wave. I'm
going to shape it and trim off the split ends. You'll still be able
to pin it up, but for a different, glamorous look just set it on
electric rollers or rag curlers and you'll end up with that sexy
tousled look."

Joan redirected her gaze at Diane. "I'm free tomorrow night.
Want a little help turning Cinderella into Playmate of the
Year?"

"Great!" she exclaimed, unwinding her legs to move alongside
Joan. "What about a manicure?" Diane lifted and examined Virginia's
fingers, frowning at the uneven nails and the split cuticles. "We
can treat them tonight and polish them tomorrow." She peered at
Virginia's ashen complexion. "I think a facial too."

"There're some new makeup samples at the shop I'll bring home,"
Joan contributed, her growing eagerness radiating from her pert
features. "I'm really getting excited. It's like giving birth!" She
lifted Virginia's chin and grinned into shell-shocked blue eyes.
"When we get through with you tomorrow night, you won't recognize
yourself."

It took less time than that. On the stroke of midnight Virginia
was amazed to see a blonde reflected in the looking glass. Despite
the lack of cosmetics the shining spill of hair radiated brilliant
streaks of molten gold and shimmered under a seduction of
moonbeams.

Then suddenly the sun and stars were washed away by a sober
brunette rinse. But professional artistry had changed the
originally mouse-colored hair into soft, fluid waves that reflected
the mysterious depths of pousse-cafe.

Virginia had become quite fond of Roger. She always knew what he
was thinking; he reacted to her every suggestion and followed her
every move. It was very flattering.