Though Josiah had groaned in protest, he’d agreed to call the five models and make arrangements for the interviews.
Only four of the promised five had shown up, and none had even been close to what Logan was looking for. Probably because none of them could possibly be as beautiful as Allegra, with her smooth porcelain skin and long spiral locks of silky brown hair.
The ring of the doorbell startled Logan out of his skin. No one could get through the gate unless he opened it. Was the blonde back to insist she be chosen? He tapped the watch on his wrist, pulling up a view from outside his front door. A different woman, holding a garment bag. She must’ve driven through the gate when the last candidate was leaving. Vain hope fluttered in his chest. He had one last opportunity to find a suitable date, though he doubted she would be any better than the others. With her head tucked down, her dark hair covered her face, but maybe it was for the best. This time, he would try not to look at her so he wouldn’t compare her to Allegra, a battle the candidate was bound to lose. Instead, he would attempt to engage her in conversation and judge her on personality alone.
Well, that and the dress. No woman deserves to be subjected to my mother’s harsh judgment.
“You’re late.” He flung the door open wide, motioning her inside, maintaining his downward gaze. Jeans and flipflops shuffled past him, and he almost laughed aloud. She’d certainly dressed casually for her interview. He shut the door behind her, staying in the entryway as he had with the last candidate.
“Where are you from?” he asked, staring at her feet.
“Uhmm…all over, I guess. My dad was in the military, so we moved all the time.” Her toes curled, almost hiding the pink painted nails, adorned with tiny white flowers.
“What did you study in college?” One of his requirements had been that the candidates have an undergraduate degree, hoping for a level of maturity that couldn’t be guaranteed by age alone.
“I’m pre-law.”
“You don’t have a degree yet? How old are you?” At thirty-one, he didn’t want to be with a teenager.
He let his gaze rise high enough to see her arms tighten, crushing the garment bag against her.
“If you must know, I’m twenty-six. I’m working my way through school.” She acted offended, as if he shouldn’t ask personal information. “Is this inquisition really necessary?”
“Are you in a hurry to be gone?”
“As a matter of fact, yes.”
“You have plans tonight?” His jaw tightened. Why had she bothered to come?
“Nothing that’s any of your business.” Her arms pushed the garment bag toward him. “Here you go. I just need you to sign off on this.”
“Sign off?” He took the bag, which seemed too heavy for a single dress. She must’ve brought several along, an odd action if she didn’t want the job.
“Yes, sign off. Look, even if I was a little late, I need credit for coming. I don’t expect a tip, but I have to prove I got it here.”
He was pretty sure steam was coming out his ears. Josiah would get an earful from Logan about this woman’s behavior. She’d come with no intention of taking the weekend job. She’d shown up simply to get a quick five hundred dollars and be on her way. Logan had no intention of paying her under those circumstances.
Since he’d eliminated her as a candidate, he looked up, gasping at the fiery glare aimed his direction. Her indigo blue eyes were striking, and probably would’ve been huge if they hadn’t been narrowed at him. Her brown hair fell in soft waves past the tops of her shoulders. She flipped it behind them. It was then that he noticed a rather large patch of wrinkled purplish skin on the right side of her face.
“You have a scar.”
He regretted his words the instant they left his mouth. It sounded so demeaning, as if a scar would prevent someone from being a model. She probably fit right in at Josiah’s agency. It wasn’t called Remarkable Models for no reason. But he could see she’d have been gorgeous without the prominent mark on her cheek. His pity surged, but she wasn’t intimidated by his blunder.
“Yes, I have a scar.” With her jaw jutted forward, she pulled her right sleeve partway up, the entire forearm scarred, though the appearance was less purple. “I have one here, too. Do you want to make something of it?”
He’d obviously hurt her feelings, and he was embarrassed to have been so insensitive. At least he had the good sense not to ask how it had happened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“And here, too.” She yanked up the leg of her jeans, exposing more scarring on her shapely calf.
He couldn’t help but admire her courageous attitude. He could barely show his face in public, and he had no such disfigurement as an excuse. Just a social discomfort he’d nursed into a full-blown phobia. If only he had this woman’s blatant disregard for the opinions of others, he could saunter into that wedding with confidence.
“Just check the bag, please.” Her foot tapped on the floor.
“I thought you said you had plans for the evening. You still want me to look at the dress?”
“What dress? I don’t think they gave me a dress!” Her eyes squeezed shut. “Cripes! I can’t afford to make another trip over there and back.”
Her words made no sense. She must’ve misunderstood when Josiah explained the possible job.
“Josiah was supposed to tell you to bring a formal dress for the wedding.” Logan strode out of the entry into his living room to lay the weighty garment bag out on his couch. “If you don’t have the dress, what’s in here?”
“Just some shirts, three pairs of pants, and a tuxedo.”
“A tuxedo? Why would you have a…” As he unzipped the bag, he recognized his own clothes inside and slammed his palm against his forehead. His dry-cleaning. He’d forgotten all about it in the frenzy of the interviews. Realization dawned, heating his face. He was such an idiot. “You’re with Bring-It-To-Me, aren’t you? Do you even know Josiah?”
“Who’s Josiah? The guy at the dry cleaners?” She chewed her plump lower lip in an adorable manner that made something feel warm deep inside. “That’s all he gave me. I swear he didn’t say anything about a dress.”
“I’m so sorry…uh…I didn’t even get your name.”
“Ellery.”
“Ellery, I thought you were someone else. Someone who was supposed to be a blind date for a friend’s wedding. I’m so sorry I was rude.”
She tilted her head, a dazzling smile stretching her lips. His heart flip-flopped against his ribs.
“I hate to be critical,” she said, “but you shouldn’t have been rude, even if I had been your blind date. It’s not exactly the best way to start a relationship.”
“Social etiquette isn’t my strong point.”
