short?”
“Let it down and you'd be stepping on it.”
“Does the long waist make me look fat? I loved it when I first—”
“No, not a bit. Looks great. What d'you mean by long waist?”
“Cal!”
“Why are you asking me all this stuff? What do I know about women's clothes?”
Johanna huffed and flounced away. “Obviously nothing. I should have made Claire come with me.”
Cal asked Melissa if someone might have bought the black dress and returned it.
“Returned it? We seldom have return items and when we do, they're marked as such.”
“But you do occasionally? Someone could have taken this dress and worn it, say to a dinner party where she got perfume on it, and brought it back without you knowing the difference?”
Melissa smile became strained. “No, no. Not this dress. Jane only finished this dress a week or so ago and it's been right here in the shop since then. In case you're concerned someone else wore it, set your mind at ease. No, that perfume came either from a customer trying it on or from one of our models.”
Unless Jane herself had lent it out to a favored customer. “Any chance of meeting the great lady herself?”
Melissa looked puzzled.
“Jane,” he clarified. “Maybe she loaned it to a friend.” Melissa was cute but a little slow. Callaway preferred a woman with a livelier mind and a touch of mystery about her, a woman who knew what was what. Like Scarlet Smith.
Not like Scarlet Smith, damn her.
Melissa's brow cleared. “I'm sure she didn't, but I'll check. Jane's with your sister right now. Maybe she can see you when they're finished.”
Depending on his impression of Jane, he might confide part of the truth, ask about her models. He pulled out a cigarette and was swiftly herded down the hall into an isolated smoking room where a comfortable sofa and chairs circled a coffee table filled with magazines. A television was tucked away to the side. A fan whirred above, pulling air outside.
“The smoke gets into the material and stays,” Melissa said. “Jane absolutely abhors cigarettes and cigars. Naturally we can't allow them in the sales or design area.”
From the sports magazines, this was where trapped husbands awaited their wives. Jane was prepared for everything.
Callaway curled his lip. He'd be damned if he'd ever be so docile as to hang around this cubbyhole while his wife tried on dresses. Poor suckers, hooked by sex but ending up gutted and spineless and tortured the rest of their lives. Not for him the marital ordeal. No way would he go through that again. He'd have his freedom to do as he liked and...
Wait patiently for Johanna to be finished.
He laughed at himself. All right. He was no better than ninety percent of the other men he knew. Now, if he could only get on Jane's good side—and there was no reason why he couldn't; he was always good with older women—maybe he could chase down Scarlet.
Johanna's voice from the sales room brought him out of the lounge. “I don't dare leave it to Cal. He's trying to buy something a Vegas showgirl would feel right at home in.”
Melissa said, “I'll be happy to pick out a few things,” before smiling at Cal. “I'm so sorry but Jane has an important phone call from one of our bead suppliers and can't talk to you right now. I did ask about the dress, but I was right. No one has borrowed it. It's been in the sales room since it was put out.”
“Thanks.” That dress had definitely been on Scarlet. Maybe an employee had sneaked it out without anyone knowing. He'd call his investigator and put him to work on Jane's staff as soon as he got rid of Johanna.
Johanna turned back to Melissa. “So Jane'll steam my dress whenever she brings it out Sunday morning, right?”
He'd have to drop Johanna off at home before he called the investigator. “Let's pick out a dress for Claire so we can go.”
Johanna exuded infinite patience. “Cal, I'm trying to make arrangements to get my wedding dress delivered.”
He