Fortune's Valentine Bride. Marie Ferrarella
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through with this. She couldn’t be his master strategist, his Cyrano, to help him land a woman who would ultimately stomp all over the heart he was planning on serving to her on a silver platter.
Katie began to voice her protest, but then, before even a single word managed to come out, she changed her mind.
Blake was going to go through with this with her or without her and if she protested, he might just view it as being a case of sour grapes. But if she was there, at his side, helping him with this awful campaign, maybe it would finally hit him that she had all the virtues and assets that he, in his delusion, thought that Brittany possessed.
And, she added silently, if this all blew up on him, she’d be right there to help him pick up the pieces.
She’d be privy to every detail of his plan and with it all laid out for her, she would know how best to ruin his plans. And by ruining them, she would be able to ultimately save the man from embarrassment and making the mistake of a lifetime—if not the century.
And if, at the same time, she could get him to see that it was her all along who he should have been with, well, so much the better.
“Look, if I’m asking too much,” Blake was saying, apparently having second thoughts about the wisdom of asking her to help, “then maybe you should—”
“It’s not that you’re asking too much,” she said, cutting him off. “It’s just that, well, I’m not sure if I’m exactly the right person for the job. This is a little different than the usual campaigns we work on.”
“Of course you’re the right person for the job. I mean, this is about what appeals to a woman. Brittany’s a woman and so are you, right?”
She looked at him, a little stunned. “Is that a question?” she wanted to know. “I mean, really?”
“No, no, of course you’re a woman. That’s what I’m counting on.”
He was either being exceedingly simpleminded—or insulting. She wasn’t sure which bothered her more. “That all women are alike?”
He couldn’t really explain why, but he had the feeling he was in over his head—and drowning. What was needed was a time-out so that he could gather his thoughts together and begin again.
Blake was more than certain that Katie was the right woman for the job. After all, someone as attractive as she was probably had guys making a play for her all the time. What sort of things made her reactions positively? That’s what he needed to find out. He just had to find the right way to phrase this so she wouldn’t think that, well, he was coming onto her. Because he wasn’t. Even if, sometimes when she looked at him, he’d find something stirring deep inside of him. That was just a basic, physical thing, nothing more.
Taking a breather, Blake pulled himself back and refocused.
“Tell you what,” he proposed. “Let’s get you over to Wendy’s. She’s dying to see you.”
At least someone was, Katie thought.
Chapter Three
“On my God, just look at you,” Katie cried as she walked into Wendy’s bedroom.
After everything she’d heard about Wendy going into premature labor, Katie had expected to find her friend pale and languishing in bed. Instead, Wendy looked just the way she always did: bright and animated, and very, very pretty.
Wendy’s eyes crinkled the moment she heard the sound of Katie’s voice. She shifted in bed, excited to finally see her old friend.
“I know, I know, I’m as big as a house,” she lamented, only half kidding.
“I was going to say glowing,” Katie corrected tactfully. Granted, Wendy looked a bit larger than she had the last time they’d seen one another, but nowhere near Wendy’s self-deprecating description.
“But you were thinking that I looked as big as a house,” Wendy prodded. There was no way anyone walking into the room could miss this “bump,” which was currently the biggest thing about her.
Katie knew better than to argue. No one won arguments with Wendy. “Not a house,” she insisted. “Maybe a little cottage.” She held up her thumb and forefinger, keeping them about an inch apart.
With a laugh, Wendy held out her arms to her friend. Katie had always had a way of making her feel instantly better. Now was no exception. “Come here and give me a hug,” she implored.
It was all the invitation that Katie needed. Bending over, she embraced Wendy, giving her a heartfelt squeeze and holding on tightly for a moment. She really was very happy to finally see her.
“God, I’ve missed you,” she said fiercely, then, as she stepped back, she added in a lower, embarrassed voice, “I’m sorry I couldn’t come to the wedding.”
Wendy waved away the apology. “Being best friends means never having to say you’re sorry,” she said as if that was a given between them. And then she gave Blake an accusing look. “I know my slave-driving brother left you to hold down the fort.”
“I take exception to the term slave driver,” Blake protested. “And what can I say?” he added with a careless shrug. “Katie happens to be very good at her job.” And because she was, he had been able to fly to Red Rock for an extended week to attend his baby sister’s wedding along with the rest of his family.
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe you could have said, ‘Hey, Katie, since my sister’s your very oldest, dearest friend, forget about the fort.”
“It wasn’t the fort that needed holding down,” Katie told her. “We had a last minute problem with a customer demanding changes to a contract that was going out and someone in marketing was needed to handle it. I knew Blake didn’t want to miss your wedding, so I volunteered to stay behind and deal with the client,” Katie told her. “It was kind of my anonymous wedding present to you.”
“And in a way, it turned out for the best,” Blake pointed out. “If she’d come to the wedding, Katie would have been struck at the airport like the rest of us—and who knows? Maybe she would have even gotten hurt. The way I see it, maybe staying behind to deal with the client and smooth things out saved Katie’s life.”
Wendy rolled her eyes at his comment. “You’re really reaching there, Blake.”
Katie was nothing if not a born mediator and now was no exception. She sidelined any further discussion about something that couldn’t be changed by redirecting the conversation to the present. “Speaking of the tornado, is Javier doing any better now?”
“He’s finally conscious. It was touch and go for a while and I know Marcos was really worried that his brother might not come out of his coma.” She pressed her lips together. “We still don’t know how extensive the damage to his spine and legs really is. Right now, he can’t move them, but the doctor said this could just be due to some swelling along his spinal cord. Once that goes down, he should be able to walk again.” The key word here, she added silently, was should.
As if reading her unspoken thoughts, Katie said firmly, “Yes, he will.” Like Wendy, she believed in positive thought, taking it a step further. Positive thoughts yielded positive energy.
Wendy beamed. Though far from a negative person herself, there was something exceedingly uplifting about the upbeat tone in her friend’s voice. She caught Katie’s hand in hers for a moment and just held on.
“God, but it’s going to be good having you around,” she said with feeling.
“Speaking of which,” Katie said, looking at Blake, “you haven’t told me where I’m going to be staying. I’d like to drop off my things—”
“At Scott’s,” Blake surmised, mentioning where he was currently staying. At the same time, Wendy was saying something entirely different.
“Why,