was for looking for “demeaning” work....
“It... it isn’t the way it sounds,” she said desperately. “If you’d just give me a moment—”
“Did you strike this gentleman or didn’t you?”
“Mr. Deauville, please—”
“You’re fired, Miss Franklin!”
“Wait a minute, Deauville.” Ryan stepped forward, frowning. “You can’t just fire her.”
“Butt out,” Devon snapped. She swung toward Ryan, her face flushed. “Haven’t you done enough for one day? You’re the cause of this fiasco, you... you stupid, hypocritical jerk!”
Ryan shook his head, wincing at the words and at the sudden ache in his jaw.
“Listen, lady, I’m doing what I can to be a gentleman here, but—”
“Why waste time trying to be anything but what you are?”
Ryan’s eyes narrowed. He stared at her for a long moment and then he turned to the manager dancing attendance at his elbow.
“The girl slugged me, all right,” he said tightly.. “Fire her.”
“I already did,” the little man said. He looked at Devon, his eyes cold. “I repeat, Miss Franklin, you are terminated.”
Devon stared from one man to the other. Did they think she was a... a thing to be discussed as if she weren’t present?
“Terminated?” she said, and gave a little laugh. In one swift, defiant motion, she shrugged the crimson cape from her shoulders and let it pool at her feet. “Take my advice, Mr. Deauville, and go terminate yourself!” Before either man could speak, she turned and walked away.
It was the longest walk of her life, up those steps and then to the dressing room. She could feel all those eyes boring into her, knowing what they saw, the dress she’d been stuffed into that was little more than a pair of thin straps and skintight black silk; the ridiculously high-heeled, black satin pumps.
But she kept her shoulders back and her head high, until, at last, she was safely inside the dressing room. Then she stripped off the dress, kicked off the shoes, put on her own clothing and whisked out the employees’ door to the street.
The two cramped hotel rooms she shared with her mother just off Times Square were mercifully empty. Bettina was probably out shopping, Devon thought bitterly as she locked the door behind her, spending their last few dollars to dress herself up for tonight’s visit to James Kincaid.
Devon’s mouth trembled as she sank down on the edge of her sagging bed. Why had she ever agreed to go with Bettina this evening? She hadn’t wanted to: last week’s visit had been more than enough. The old man was just eccentric, Bettina had insisted, but Devon had felt first like a supplicant and then like a bug under a microscope.
Tonight would surely be worse. Bettina was up to something—the signs were all there. If only she’d devote half that much energy to looking for a job.
A job, Devon thought. Lord, a job!
This morning, she’d been employed. Now, barely four hours later, she wasn’t.
Here she was, in a strange city, with no money and a mother who thought work was something invented for fools. And now, thanks to that insulting creep at Montano’s, she was out of a job.
At least she’d gotten back some of her own. That punch had really rocked him. She couldn’t believe she’d done such a thing, she, who never so much as stepped on an ant if she could help it, but he had deserved it.
A smile tilted across Devon’s lips. What satisfaction there’d been in feeling her fist connect with his smug, square-jawed face.
Her smile wobbled, then disappeared.
“Damn him,” she said shakily. “Damn him to hell!”
“Damn who?” Bettina said brightly, slamming the door after her.
Devon ran her hands quickly over her eyes. “Hello, Mother. I didn’t hear you come in.”
“I was out shopping,” Bettina said, tossing packages on the bed. “I want to look my best tonight, Devon. So should you.”
“I don’t know why we’re going at all,” Devon muttered. “I don’t even know why we came to this city.”
“Because we have family here, that’s why. And family helps family, when the chips are down.”
“We have no ‘family’ here, and you know it.”
“What a terrible mood you’re in, Devon. I hope you’re not going to sit around glowering tonight.”
Devon took a breath. “I lost my job,” she said.
“Really,” Bettina said without much interest. “How do you like this dress? Too dull, do you think?”
Devon winced at the magenta silk her mother had taken from one of the boxes.
“It’s...it’s fine, Mother. Did you hear what I said? I had a run-in with a rude customer and—”
“Well, it’s no loss. Selling perfume is no better than selling sweaters the way you did at Saks back home.”
“Selling isn’t glamorous, but it’s honest work.”
“Don’t you dare take that holier-than-thou tone with me!” Bettina swung toward her daughter, eyes flashing. “I worked hard to support us and don’t you forget it. Waiting on tables, cleaning up after people who thought they were better than me, scraping pennies to give you all the benefits so you could have the life that I’d dreamed of—and long before Gordon Kincaid came along to pay the bills, in case you’ve forgotten, miss.”
There had been more to it than that, Devon thought savagely. There’d been an endless string of men. Uncle Harry, and Uncle John, and Uncle Phil....
“I did what I had to do,” Bettina said, as if she’d read Devon’s thoughts, “and it was all for you.”
“I never asked for anything,” Devon said tightly.
“The sacrifices,” Bettina said, “the struggle...”
Devon shut her eyes. I won’t listen, she told herself fiercely, I won’t. She’d grown up on this litany, hearing about her mother’s hardships, of how she’d all but given up her own life for her daughter’s...
“Next, you’ll turn your back on me, same as your father did.”
The bitter accusation twisted, sharp as the blade of a knife, in Devon’s heart.
“You know I’d never do that, Mother.”
Bettina smiled. “Good girl!” She bent down, gave Devon a kiss that was actually a cheek-to-cheek caress, and then she looked at her
