Page 5 of A Girl Like Janet

The first hour of the course was spent relating the history of computers and the revolution taking place around the world

because of the possibilities and capabilities of the small machine. The last half hour was used to familiarize the group with

computer lingo. A hands-on experience was promised for the next evening’s class.

“It’s not so terrifying, is it?” Reese asked as they walked toward the parked car.

“I’ll reserve my judgment until after this week,” Janet replied.

Reese stopped, hands in his pockets. “Do you always stand back and analyze something before making a decision?”

“I suppose so.” His question struck a raw nerve and she stiffened slightly. “I’m not often carried away with emotion, if that’s

what you’re asking.” A thousand times Janet wished she could be more like Gail, who leaped into madcap schemes and came out

better for the experience. Gail could walk into a store, pick something haphazardly off the rack and look like she’d spent

weeks looking for just the perfect match. Janet sometimes agonized over the simplest things; she wished she were different,

but her sense of order and her tendency toward perfection made her prudent.

“Coffee?” Reese asked. But before she could respond, he pulled into the parking lot of an all-night restaurant.

Janet slid into the red booth and Reese sat opposite her. When the waitress came for their order he looked up and smiled impersonally.

“A piece of apple pie, à la mode, and coffee for the lady.”

“Reese,” she whispered fiercely. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing, why?” He looked perplexed. The girl began to step away.

“Miss,” Janet called her back.

“Yes?” The voice was laced with impatience.

“I’d like a piece of pie too.”

The girl glanced from one to the other. “Are you sure?”

“Very,” Janet murmured. When the waitress had moved out of hearing distance, Janet leaned forward, her eyes sparking fire.

“What did you do that for? I’m perfectly capable of deciding what I want to order.”

Elbows resting on the table, Reese eased his upper torso forward until their faces were separated by only a few inches. “Why

are we whispering?” he asked.

Straightening, Janet glared at him, exasperated. “Are you always this difficult.”

“No,” he assured her with a crooked grin. “I guess I owe you an apology. The women I usually date are afraid to order lettuce

for fear of gaining weight. I should have realized you’d be different.”

“Oh.” Janet wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not. She was different all right; the women Reese dated were the epitome

of delicate, gentle femininity. “If you ever took out a woman taller than five feet you’d realize that girls as tall as I

am can eat more,” she replied flippantly.

Reese’s eyes narrowed, his expression hauntingly cool.

Their order arrived and Janet had to force herself to eat the ice cream. The frozen dessert seemed to spread its chill all

the way from her stomach up to her heart. She noticed that Reese didn’t seem any more interested in eating than she did. After

a few minutes of stilted silence, he picked up the tab and left the booth to pay their bill.

He drove to Janet’s apartment, neither of them saying a word, and eased the car alongside the curb.

“Good night, Miss Montgomery.” The upward curve of his mouth was humorless.

Her hand on the door handle, Janet nearly leaped from the car.

He waited until she had unlocked the apartment door and turned to wave, signaling that everything was okay.

When Janet arrived at the office the next morning, Reese was sitting at her computer, his concentration intent as he read

from the instruction manual. Little red lights were flashing from the disk drives at the base of the machine and Janet stood

back, watching them flash off and on while a soft grinding sound was emitted from the base of the computer. It was several

seconds before Reese noticed that she was there.

“Good morning,” she greeted him stiffly.

“I’m getting the disks ready for you to use.”

Janet stood back and nodded. She had learned in the class the night before that the disks needed to be divided into tracts

to save the data she would be storing. The technical term was called formatting.

Busying herself by hanging up her coat, putting on the first pot of coffee and sorting through the mail, Janet did her best

to ignore the fact that Reese was occupying her desk.

“Miss Montgomery.” Reese was calling her. He didn’t follow any real pattern; sometimes he called her Janet and other times

by her surname. Lately, however, he’d most commonly called her Janet, at least until last night.

“Yes?”

“Sit down,” he instructed, standing and pulling out her chair.

Janet did as he requested.

Hands on the back of the chair, Reese rolled her toward the desk. “Type the following memo,” he said crisply.

Immediately Janet went to scoot back to get to the typewriter.

“No,” he stopped her, “type it into the computer.”

Her hands froze and she looked back at him, her eyes filled with panic. “Not yet, I don’t know anything about this thing,

I might do something wrong.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me, but do it anyway.”

Holding her back straight, she lightly placed her fingers on the keyboard. Other than several rows of keys to the left and

right of the main section, it looked and felt like a typewriter.

Reese rattled off several sentences. Instinct took over and Janet typed with all the speed and dexterity she was accustomed

to having on her old electric typewriter.

Pleased with herself, she placed her hands on her lap when she’d finished.

“Not bad.” Reese patted her shoulder, and where his hand touched, a flowing warmth seemed to spread until it reached all the

way to the tips of her fingers. Leaning forward slightly, his head almost next to hers, Reese read the monitor screen.

Janet could smell the manly scent of his aftershave, which disturbed her all the more.

“You misspelled ‘employees.’”

The criticism brought her attention sharply back to where it belonged. “I did not,” she denied, without knowing if she had

or not.

“No, you didn’t,” Reese agreed, his voice full of teasing humor. “But let’s pretend you did.”

“I think you should be aware that I placed fifth in the state-wide spelling bee when I was eleven.”

His soft chuckle stirred the hairs at the side of her face. “I would have guessed as much.”

“All right, I’ll play your little game and pretend I misspelled a word.”

“Let’s correct it then.” It took five minutes for Janet to correct one word, which would have taken five seconds on her typewriter,

but she restrained herself from telling him as much. By the time they’d finished, the phone was ringing and the start of another

workday couldn’t be delayed.

Reese picked her up that evening the same time he had the night before. The instructor had them both work with the computer

while he explained the simplest functions. Nonetheless, by the time class was over, Janet’s head was spinning with information.

Reese drove her directly home. She couldn’t prevent a soft sigh of disappointment when he drove away.

Gail was sprawled across the sofa, reading, when Janet let herself into the apartment.

“You’re home early,” she said, glancing up from the magazine. Unhooking her foot from the back of the couch, she sat upright.

“We didn’t stop for coffee tonight,” Janet explained and yawned. “I’m tired. I think I’ll get ready for bed.” She wasn’t fooling

Gail; she was avoiding discussing Reese and they both knew it.

Janet attacked her teeth with the toothbrush, angry with herself. All this new awareness of Reese as a man, all these strange

feelings she was experiencing were at the surface, ready for her to deal with. Yet she refused. She didn’t want to think about

Reese in any other capacity except as her boss. Staring at herself in the mirror, Janet was forced to admit she wouldn’t allow

herself to think about him, she couldn’t, she was afraid.

Wednesday followed the pattern of the two previous days and nights. Reese was unusually quiet on the way home from class.

Because Janet was taking the class and learning how the Simplex operated bit by bit each night, the computer didn’t strike

the terror in her heart it once did. Comparing the Simplex to some of the others, Janet was impressed with the simplicity

of its operation.

“This may sound strange after only three nights of classes, but I’m beginning to feel a little more confident. I think once

I learn all the controls, I shouldn’t have too much trouble effectively operating a computer.”

Reese’s gaze moved from the road and flickered over her. “I knew you would. At the same time I think it’s important for you

to complete the course.”

“I agree.”

“You still can’t come tomorrow night?” He made the question more of an accusation.

“No, I wish I could.”

“What’s so important that’s going on tomorrow?” He sounded almost angry and Janet glanced at him curiously.

“You won’t believe this, but it’s a movie.”

“I suspect it’s not so much the show but the company you’ll be keeping.”

Janet couldn’t deny it; her relationship with Joel was very special to her. Besides, she’d seen Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs three times. “You’re right, would you like to know what movie I’m seeing?”

“No, I wouldn’t,” he said tersely.

His hands tightened around the steering wheel and Janet watched him with a growing confusion as he sped ahead. It was almost

as if he couldn’t get her out of his car fast enough; as if he wanted to avoid her company. She shrugged her shoulders when

he dropped her off at the apartment and drove away. The night before he’d walked her to the door and Monday, even when he

was angry, he’d waited until she was safely inside her apartment before driving off. If she didn’t know any better, she’d

think he was jealous. The likelihood was so obscure that Janet couldn’t prevent a smile.

Reese’s mood hadn’t improved much by the following morning. He responded to her good-morning with an impatient grunt and immediately