Bedroom Eyes. Sandra Chastain
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It was convenient. It gave a reason for you to always be away. And I liked the idea of a man who is free to go where he wants to and gets paid for it.”
There was a tinge of yearning in her voice and he wondered if she ever let herself go. Now he leaned against the doorway, keeping far enough away to defuse the effect of whatever seemed to connect them. “What kind of assignment was I on?”
“You were in South Africa. I don’t know what you were doing there. Bettina never told me and nobody ever asked. They only wanted to know when we were getting married.”
“And you told them?” She seemed calm. She didn’t try to make him feel welcome, nor was she overtly unfriendly.
“I said we hadn’t decided. I was waiting for you to get into town.”
“Well,” he finally said, “I’m here. Do I pass?”
She blinked. “Pass?”
“Inspection. Are you satisfied with me as your lover?”
She blinked and looked quickly away. “Not my lover, my fiancé.”
“If I were really your fiancé, I’d be your lover, too. We’d be good together, Anne Harris.”
Anne trembled slightly, then jerked her cool control back into place. “Let’s get this straight—being my lover isn’t included in the job, Mr. Dane.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. It’s just that this is more difficult than I’d expected. You’re not just a picture now; you’re a real man. I guess I wasn’t prepared for that. Perhaps it’s not too late for me to call it off and confess the truth to Mr. Jacobs.”
Before he could speak, the phone rang. Anne answered, listened for a moment, then said, “Mother, I’ve been trying to reach you. Do you realize that your little fib to Mr. Jacobs about my nonexistent fiancé could cost me a promotion and maybe even my job?”
Anne Harris was very convincing. If this was a matchmaking attempt, Bettina had chosen the right woman. The question was, was she in on the hoax? For now, maybe the best way to handle the situation was to go along. Bettina would be surprised at how convincing he could be.
Who was he kidding? If Anne Harris wanted a fiancé, she had one. He’d play the role because he couldn’t turn away. She might not be the woman he’d loved and lost, and everything about her said hands off, but he had to know.
Mitchell wished he could hear the other side of the telephone conversation. Anne appeared to be blaming her problem on her interfering mother. He could appreciate that. Sometimes Bettina’s meddling in his personal life was just as bad. He couldn’t imagine that Anne’s employer would refuse to promote her because she was single. There had to be more to the story.
“Where are you, Mother?” she asked. “I’ve asked you to let me know when you leave town.” Then, “So you’ve been in Key West with a lovely man who paints sunsets. How nice to be able to take off on a whim. No, I did not know that the Hemingway cats have six toes. Mother, stop prattling and listen to me. I have to take my fiancé to Mr. Jacobs’s granddaughter’s wedding this weekend. I don’t suppose you know anything about that, do you?”
There was a pause. “I’m sorry, Mother. I know you didn’t arrange the date for Mr. Jacobs’s granddaughter’s wedding.”
Another pause. “No, Mother, I have not suddenly acquired a real fiancé.” She hesitated. “I managed to find the imaginary one your friend Bettina provided for me.”
Mitchell listened openly. So Bettina and Anne Harris’s mother were friends. Hello…the plot was thickening.
“Yes, Mother, the real man. And yes, he is…what you said. I mean he looks like his photograph. But that’s not the point.”
What you said? Their conversation was certainly intriguing. Anne had caught his attention. Her mother and his sister were friends. By now Anne had moved into the kitchen. He was beginning to get the picture. Mama had somehow suggested to Anne’s employer that she was engaged. When Anne had to supply the imaginary fiancé, Mama had referred her to Bettina, who sent Anne Mitchell Dane’s picture. The question was, to what end? There was no way she could have known he’d come to town the very weekend of the wedding. But he had and Bettina had taken advantage of the coincidence. Now Anne had to produce him to protect her job. Logically, there were too many unforeseen variables for it to be a hoax.
Okay, maybe his future “wife” was playing it straight. So would he—for now. He took a good look at her slim back and long legs and decided to wait and see. In any case, this could turn out to be fun. And it had been a very long time since he’d had fun.
“No, Mother,” she said more patiently than he would have. “You do not need to come to the wedding and straighten out anything. I’ll handle it. You’re already on your way? Mother? Mother!”
Anne let out a sigh. “Damn. She hung up on me.”
Mitchell surprised himself and grinned.
3
ANNE PUNCHED IN a number on her cell phone and listened, then shook her head. “We might as well leave. Mother knows it’s me and she’s not going to answer,” Anne explained. “Sorry, Mitchell, unless I can head her off, she’ll be at the wedding, invited or not. You’ll find out soon enough that she’s a bit…undisciplined. She does her own thing.”
Undisciplined? Mitchell assumed that the mother was meddlesome, but undisciplined was kinder. He swallowed a smile. Bettina called him undisciplined—often. Not in relation to his work. It was his private life that was totally unstructured—by design. His father had married a woman who demanded more than he could provide. It wasn’t her fault. She’d simply wanted her children to have better lives. But Mitchell had watched his father give up his dream of seeing the world and mire himself in a dull little accounting job until the weight of his responsibilities made a bad heart give up.
And suddenly, Mitchell found himself the man of the house who inherited the responsibility of a mother who expected to be cared for and a family almost as old as he was. He accepted the obligation but promised himself that someday he’d be free, never again to be tied down to anything that remotely sounded like nine-to-five. He hadn’t counted on Melia. Everything had changed when he met her and then she was gone and he’d begun to wander.
Does her own thing. “Your mother sounds like my kind of woman,” he finally said, their gazes locking.
“Oh, yes, Mother would say you’re perfect.”
“What do you say?”
Her lips parted slightly as her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. The ever-present tension hung between them, hot and heavy. He wondered if she felt it, then watched her push that strand of hair behind her ear once more and decided she did as she let out a breathless sigh. “I want you to know that I would never deliberately deceive anyone. I know what can happen. But this time I have no choice.”
“Because of your mother? Why?”
Anne grimaced. “If this is going to work, I guess I’d better tell you. My mother—her name is Faylene—had two husbands. My father was her second. The first one was less than successful. My father…well, she thought my father hung the moon. So did I.”
“And he didn’t?” Mitchell asked.
“Let’s say he tried too hard. He was a college professor who opened a bookstore. It was doing very well, so he bought another. They were wonderful stores, with wonderful books that not everyone loved as much as he. Then a superstore opened between the two stores and the rest is history. Most of my mother’s inheritance went to pay off the debts.”
“I take it Faylene doesn’t know.”
“She knew about the debts, just not the extent.”
“Maybe Faylene knows more than you