“I’m getting there,” JC reassured, green eyes sparkling. “When I started landing big modeling gigs, I’d go into meetings feeling completely overwhelmed. Experience helped over time, but my step-dad Tom gave me great advice.”
Ember’s brows perked with interest.
“You have to walk in like you own the place, Ember. Use everything you have in your arsenal.”
“Yeah, right. Like I have an arsenal. I should’ve brought my yoga mat. I could drop down to a downward-facing dog or lotus position.” Her eyes bulged mockingly.
“I’m sure they’d enjoy your downward dog, but that’s not what I meant. No matter how nervous you are, you never let them know it. You walk in with your head high and pretend you’re the shizzle.”
Insecurity slipped through small fissures of uncertainty growing inside. Ember grimaced. “I’m afraid I might’ve bitten off more than I can chew.”
“You mean the meeting or the ranch?”
Doubt reared its ugly head. Emotions stung her nose. “Both…the meeting…the ranch…take your pick.”
“Don’t be silly. One little paternity test isn’t going to break my girl…not while I’m around. What are you wearing?”
Ember waved a hand down the front of her flowy summer dress. “This.”
JC cautioned her daughter, patting her ears, “Give mommy some earmuffs, sweetie.”
Chloe bent forward at the counter and cupped the sides of her face in her palms of her hands, fingers covering her ears. Her bottom pointed north, wiggling happily. Ember winked and plucked a tomato from the salad, plopping it in the little girl’s mouth, earning her a big, juicy grin.
“Bullshit!” JC drew out the word, extending each vowel.
“Oh, come on, there’s nothing wrong with this dress.”
“For a barbeque or girls’ lunch, it’s perfect. However, you are most definitely not wearing that to meet the pack of hyenas who are nipping at your heels just waiting for you to drop the ball.”
“Great. It’s too late now. I didn’t bring anything business-ish with me from Austin.”
JC pressed her palms together, fingers wiggling with excitement as she cackled, “Come with me, my pretty.”
Moving into JC’s bedroom, Ember sank into the plush, blue velvet sofa. Chloe snuggled up to her side, humming her favorite nursery rhyme. JC moseyed into a closet the size of the average bedroom and appeared a few minutes later with several skirts dangling from the end of her finger. She tossed hanger after hanger onto her king-sized bed dressed in mounds of white bedding and a dozen pillows.
“You’re a bit smaller than me, but I think some of these will fit.”
Stripping down to her bra and panties, Ember tried on everything JC shoved at her. She didn’t dare ask but assumed by the name brands and quality that each article of clothing probably cost more than she made in a week. JC’s opulent lifestyle was merely the outer layer, a façade to a beautiful, giving heart. She was one of the most laid-back, caring women Ember had ever met, and she’d never once looked down on Ember because of their diverse lifestyles.
After a couple of dresses and half a dozen skirts, they decided on the tailored navy skirt with an exposed zipper running down the back length, paired with a white camisole and sheer floral print blouse.
JC emerged from the back of the closet with several pairs of high heels. Very tall high heels.
“That’s going too far,” Ember warned. “I’m no good in heels that tall. Do you have anything shorter?”
“Don’t make me throw your Birkenstocks in the pool.”
Ember made a noise of disapproval, a groan in the back of her throat. “I’m not going to be able to walk. I’ll look like a baby giraffe.”
JC cast her a look of bolstered irritation, followed by a few quick bats of her lashes. “They’re from Italy. Trust me, they’ll feel better on than you can imagine. You might even like them.”
Begrudgingly, Ember surrendered to the pair of nude, strappy, four-inch heels. Arms out to the side, she made a few passes around the room without tripping or getting a nosebleed.
“Okay, you’re right.” She pointed a toe. “I like them.”
Construction cranes dotted the skyline of downtown Fort Worth. The city bustled with people, workers garbed in suits and dresses, and visitors taking in the arts and culinary treasures.
Ember stood outside the attorney’s office building waiting for Mr. Montgomery to arrive. She wrenched her head back staring up a forty-story wall of glass, gaze directed at a sign bearing the name Harris Tower.
“Well that explains a lot. I guess ranching is his hobby,” she murmured. The skyscraper was interspersed between several older buildings, all sporting the name Harris, that had been artfully restored into high-end residential lofts.
Mr. Montgomery arrived right on time, appearing a bit more polished than normal, wearing a bolo tie fashioned from a black leather chord and jade green stone. His fresh trademark bone colored hat was missing the signs of perspiration and hard work.
After checking in with the front desk, they made their way to the thirtieth floor.
Dragging his fingers over his mustache, he slid her a glance of approval. “You look like you’re ready to kick some butt today, Miss Thompson.”
“Why, thank you Mr. Montgomery. You’re looking pretty spiffy yourself.” The edges of her mouth tipped upward. “Got any advice for me?”
He pondered her question. “Remember that these men may seem like a real pain in the ass at the moment, pardon, but most would be there to help in times of need.”
She replied with a slow nod taking in that little nugget of information. It was something she hadn’t considered.
“Respect isn’t merely given. You have to earn it. Especially since you’re a woman. Youth and beauty won’t get you bonus points in here.” He paused. “But brazenness will.”
She pulled a deep cleansing breath in through her nose.
The elevator doors parted with a ding. “Now, let’s see you go in there and grab the bull by the horns.”
The memory of the ranch hands throwing the cows to the ground right before branding them with a red-hot iron flashed in her mind. The image was quickly followed by a comical vision of her standing atop a boardroom table slamming some poor rancher’s face to the table, heel holding them to the sleek surface.
“I got this,” she dared to say out loud, unsure of who she was hoping to convince, her or Mr. Montgomery.
Exiting the elevator, they entered the vast, modern office space. A receptionist stepped out from behind a semi-circular contemporary desk made of dark walnut and frosted glass, leading them into an empty conference room.
The large, narrow room offered magnificent floor-to-ceiling views of Fort Worth. However, she found the open concept design to the lobby to be distracting giving her the sensation of being in a fishbowl. Office workers went about their normal work routines, immune to their presence, but the butterflies in her stomach felt more like seagulls divebombing for fish, watching people step off the elevator.
Turning her back to the lobby, she set her purse on the floor beside a chair and moved toward the windows overlooking the city. Glimpsing her reflection in the glass, she ran her hand over her hair, smoothing any stray flyaways from her posh ponytail. She fidgeted a bit, squaring her shoulders and praying for a facade of confidence.