Kitabı oku: «His Pretend Fiancee», sayfa 3

In fact, not only couldn’t she keep from taking in the sight, one look at him made her heart skip a beat and she thought that it might have been better if he had dressed up. Maybe slacks and a shirt would have hidden more and given her a break. But as it was, his clothes seemed like a scant barrier between her and that body she remembered all too well.

“Welcome to your new home,” he said in response to her greeting, stepping aside to allow her and the dog inside.

But Josie hesitated.

Somehow she hadn’t thought that being there again, with him, would bring so much to the surface. But suddenly she was having difficulty not thinking about Labor Day weekend. About repeating it…

Roommates, she reminded herself. Nothing but roommates…

Roommates who usually provided their own annoyances. Like stinky tennis shoes. Cupboard doors left open. Drinking out of the milk carton. Dirty dishes in the sink. The toilet seat left up.

Those were all things that made roommates unappealing. So maybe if every time she started to notice what she shouldn’t be noticing about Michael, she thought about the grossest, most disgusting thing a roommate had ever done, it would turn her off to even him…

Toenail clippings on the coffee table—that had been the worst. So that was what she would think about.

Toenail clippings. Toenail clippings. Toenail clippings…

It helped. At least enough to get her through the front door.

“Are you okay?” Michael asked as she belatedly stepped inside.

He was smiling a confused sort of smile and there were two creases between his full eyebrows that let her know he’d seen her hesitancy.

“It’s just a little strange,” she told him.

“I know. For me, too. But I think that will go away.”

It’ll go away if I imagine you leaving toenail clippings on the coffee table….

“Anyhow,” he said then, “I thought we could put the dog out back so we can keep the door open while we bring in your stuff.”

“We?”

“I’m not going to let you do it alone,” Michael informed her.

That was nice. And above and beyond the call of duty for a mere roommate. But Josie was a little concerned with the precedent it might set if he acted like a boyfriend. So she said, “You really don’t have to. It’s only clothes and some boxes. There isn’t furniture or anything. I like to keep encumbrances to a minimum.”

“Well, I can’t just sit and watch.”

No, that definitely wouldn’t be an improvement. Not when she could almost feel those penetrating green eyes on her every time he looked her way. Not when they turned the heat up on her whole body.

Besides, she reasoned, the sooner she unloaded her car and could lock herself in her own room—away from Michael and his effect on her—the better. So she conceded. “Okay. Thanks, I’d appreciate the help.”

“Good. Then let’s get the dog out back.”

Michael led the way across the living room that was decorated sparsely in brown leather and oak, to the swinging door that connected the kitchen and dining room. The back door was between the two and after Josie had removed Pip’s leash, the big dog was only too happy to go out to investigate his new domain.

Then Josie and Michael retraced their steps and began the process of getting her moved in.

Her room was to be the one across the hall from his and she advised him to just leave the boxes on the floor there and the clothes on the double bed with the white chenille spread.

He did as he was told and with the exception of a comment here and there, they worked without saying much.

By shortly before nine they were finished, but rather than Michael saying a simple good-night and leaving her to her own devices, he said, “How about a glass of wine to toast our new living arrangement while we sort through the details?”

“The details?”

“I always think sharing space goes better if you talk about some things up front.”

Josie was a free-and-easy kind of person, which was how she approached everything, so she’d always just addressed the details of living with other people when they cropped up. But if he liked to set ground rules at the start, she was okay with that, too. The wine, on the other hand? She wasn’t too sure about the wisdom in that.

“I have to work tomorrow so maybe I should pass on the wine,” she said.

“Come on, one glass isn’t going to do any harm,” he insisted, not waiting for her to decline a second time before he headed out of her room.

There were two sets of stairs leading from the second level—stairs with a beautifully carved oak banister that descended into the living room, and much plainer, more serviceable steps that led to the kitchen. It was the kitchen stairs that Josie followed Michael down, trying not to notice his to-die-for derriere as she did.

While he poured two glasses of the Riesling, Josie let Pip in and filled the water bowl she’d brought with her from one of her boxes in the bedroom.

“Where shall I put this?” she asked Michael, holding up the dog dish.

“How about alongside the counter near the door? That should be out of the way enough to keep us from spilling it.”

Josie placed the bowl where Michael had suggested and then turned back to him to accept the wine.

“Here’s to us,” he said, touching his glass to hers with a little clang.

“To us,” she said tentatively, trying hard to keep her perspective when it would have been so easy for all of this to seem romantic.

They each sipped the golden liquor and then Michael went to what looked like an old, scarred teacher’s desk that he used as a kitchen table. He pulled out one of the four mismatched chairs that surrounded it, motioned for her to sit, and took a second chair for himself.

“You must have a lot of details to discuss,” Josie said as she joined him.

“A few details and something else,” he said mysteriously. Then he launched into the details.

“First of all, here are housekeys,” he said, sliding a set from the center of the table to a spot right in front of her. “They’re for the front door and the dead bolt, and the gold-colored one works the lock on the back door—although I never use mine and I don’t know when you would, either.”

“I guess it’s good to have one, anyway.”

Then he said, “Bathrooms.”

“Always a touchy subject,” she agreed.

“Since I have one in my bedroom it’ll be mine and the one off the upstairs hall can be yours. The downstairs lav, of course, can be used by both of us and by guests, if that’s all right with you.”

“Sure.”

“I won’t even go into yours upstairs so feel free to keep whatever you want in the vanity or the medicine cabinet—I’ve already cleared them out for you.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m not a stickler when it comes to food. My mother keeps me well stocked with leftovers and casseroles and you’re welcome to eat anything that looks good to you. But if you buy yourself something special and don’t want me to touch it, just put your name on it and I’ll know not to—”

“I’m not a stickler about that, either,” she said. “You’re welcome to anything I bring in, too.”

He paused before he went on and it let Josie know that the next point wasn’t as easy a detail as the others had been.

“I was also thinking that maybe it would be better if we made a rule against bringing dates home,” he said then, broaching the topic gingerly.

“I hadn’t thought about that,” she said honestly, instantly taking a dislike to the idea that he would be dating at all, let alone that he might bring another woman home. The way he’d brought her home…

Michael smiled again, looking slightly sheepish. “I don’t think I could handle you and some guy…”

Okay, that helped.

“Besides,” Josie offered, “we shouldn’t run the risk that one of us could have someone here when your mother happened to show up.”

“That, too,” he agreed. “Which brings me neatly to the something else I needed to talk to you about.”

“Does that mean we’re done with the details?” she asked, teasing him slightly.

He smiled a smile that went straight into her bloodstream and made it run quicker.

“Are you making fun of me?”

“Only a little. I didn’t know you were a detail man.”

“Really? And I thought you did,” he countered with a voice full of innuendo.

She knew he’d been referring to the small but important details of making love to her, and she’d walked right into it. But still, just the insinuation was enough to make her think of tiny kisses that had traced the entire outer circles of her ears. About an index finger that had trailed down the inner side of her ankle, along the arch of her foot and around of each of her toes. About the tip of his nose dipping into the hollow of her throat, using her collarbone as a guide to her naked shoulder and the perfect spot for soft kisses…

“Behave yourself,” she said, unsure whether the warning was more for him or for herself. “So what’s the ‘something else’ you had to talk to me about?” she asked to put this conversation more on the up-and-up.

Michael’s smile turned into a grin that made her wonder if he somehow knew the path down which her mind had wandered. But he didn’t say anything about that. Instead he complied with her demand to know what the something else was. “I announced our engagement to my mother this morning,” he said.

“Ah. How did that go over?”

He took another drink of his wine and shrugged before he said, “She was suspicious at first, but then she warmed to the news. The problem is, she wants us to go to her house for dinner tomorrow night so she can meet you.”

“Why is that a problem?” Josie asked.

Michael smiled again, dimpling up for her in a way that was like putting a hairdryer to an ice cube when it came to her resolves. “I was afraid you might have plans or not want to meet her so soon,” he confessed.

“No, I don’t have any plans. And since I’ll need to meet your mother sooner or later, it might as well be sooner.”

“So I can let her know we’ll be there?” he said, sounding relieved.

“Sure.”

“Well, you made that easy. Thanks.”

For a moment Michael studied her as if she were too good to be true, and the warmth of those vibrant green eyes was like basking in spring sunshine.

It was also the way he’d looked at her at times over Labor Day weekend.

Just before he’d kissed her.

And once again a rash of memories flooded her mind and tormented her.

Only this time even thinking about toenail clippings wasn’t enough to stop it and she knew she had better retreat to the solitude of her own room before the torture got any worse.

“If that’s all you wanted to talk about, I should go upstairs and put some of those clothes into the closet so I can get to bed tonight,” she said suddenly.

It seemed to surprise him somewhat because his eyebrows arched and pulled together at once, as if he wasn’t quite sure what had brought that on. But how could he know, after all, when Josie was likely the only one of them thinking about kissing.

She stood and took her empty glass to the dishwasher before he guessed what was going through her head.

“Yeah, I’d better give my mother a call before I forget about it,” he said to her back, sounding a bit baffled.

“I’ll let you get to that, then,” she said, tapping her thigh twice as a signal to Pip to follow her from the corner where the big dog was lying.

“I probably won’t see you again before I go to bed, so good night,” she said, when the mastiff was by her side.

“If you need anything—”

“I’ll find it,” she assured him, calling Pip to follow her and leaving Michael sitting at the kitchen table.

But even as she climbed the stairs to the upper level again she was still thinking about kissing him.

About him kissing her.

And there was one very big problem with that.

She wasn’t only thinking about it in the past tense.

Chapter Three

“Manhattan Multiples. Can you hold, please?”

Josie couldn’t hear whether the caller had agreed or not but pressed the hold button on the telephone anyway. She had to. In the waiting room directly in front of her reception kiosk, her boss, Eloise Vale had the sound turned up on the television and she was shouting at the screen as if the mayor would stop his press conference to listen to her.

“Stubborn jackass!” Eloise yelled. “Don’t you do it, Bill Harper! Don’t you say you’re cutting us off! I swear, if you do…”

The founder of Manhattan Multiples paused as the mayor announced that in an effort to keep the economy afloat during the current recession he would very likely be ending funding for organizations such as Manhattan Multiples.

“War!” Eloise declared. “This is war now, Harper! I can’t believe I nearly married you! I must have been out of my mind! If you think I’ll sit still for this, you have another thought coming! Because I won’t! I haven’t worked this hard, this long, just to let you wipe me out with your stupid bureaucracy!”

By that time the entire staff and several of the clients were rallied behind Eloise and everyone clapped and cheered. Including Josie who not only liked her job and didn’t want to leave it just yet, but also believed that Manhattan Multiples provided a valuable service to women who were either pregnant with more than one baby or had just delivered more than one. As well as the families of those women.

Eloise Vale turned off the television and the mayor’s press conference with a vengeance and spun around to face the group that had gathered behind her.

“I don’t want any of you to worry. I’m going to do my best to make sure our doors stay open. No matter what it takes. I believe in Manhattan Multiples and I won’t let it go,” she said with conviction before she left the waiting room.

But despite her war cry, Josie still knew her boss was concerned with the future of the place that was as much Eloise’s baby as the triplets she’d delivered thirteen years ago.

Manhattan Multiples was a multifaceted center occupying three floors of a building on Madison Avenue. Eloise had started it as a support group for women having multiple babies, but since its inception in 1995 it had ballooned into a counseling center, numerous support groups, Lamaze training, day care, meditation and yoga classes. All provided invaluable aid and comfort for the additional difficulties and complications of carrying and having more than one baby at a time.

But in the strained economy it was easy to see why funding for such a specialty organization would be the first to go.

Josie suddenly remembered the call she’d put on hold and answered it once again. The woman on the other end needed to enroll in the next session of Lamaze and Josie directed the call to scheduling.

When she hung up, Eloise’s assistant Allison Baker joined her in the kiosk and provided her with the opportunity to satisfy some curiosity that had risen during Eloise’s tirade at the television.

“I didn’t know Eloise nearly married the mayor,” Josie whispered.

Allison was a studious sort, far more straitlaced-seeming than Josie, but still they got along well. “I don’t know much about it except that she was,” Allison confirmed. “It was before she married her late husband.”

The husband who had died and left Eloise well off enough to get Manhattan Multiples started but not well off enough to single-handedly keep it going.

“Does the whole almost-marrying-the-mayor history have anything to do with his targeting us in particular for the top of the budget cuts list? Sour grapes, maybe?” Josie asked.

Allison shrugged her shoulders and her eyebrows. “Eloise thinks so. That’s what makes it all the worse for her. She feels singled out. As if she’s the victim of a vendetta of sorts.”

“Apparently it isn’t only the fury of scorned women that can be dangerous,” Josie paraphrased.

“Apparently,” Allison confirmed. “But then relationships are always complicated, aren’t they?”

“Oh, boy, are they,” Josie agreed a bit too enthusiastically.

Allison looked on the verge of probing that comment but just then Eloise called for her and before she could, she had to leave Josie’s kiosk to go back to work.

Of course if Josie had said any more she might have said that complicated seemed like an understatement when it came to her relationship with Michael.

She still wasn’t sure she’d done the right thing by agreeing to move in with him. Especially after a night spent lying awake thinking about him being in the room just across the hall. In the bed just across the hall. The bed they’d already shared.

Especially after a night spent lying awake and fighting urges to share that bed again. Urges she didn’t want to have. Urges that had left her reconsidering yet again the wisdom of her move and the pretend engagement, and wondering if she should start looking for another place to live first thing this morning.

But about the time her alarm had gone off she’d decided she wasn’t going to do that. She’d committed to this peculiar living arrangement and she had to give it a chance. She just didn’t like the idea of running from anything.

It was something she took personal pride in. She’d never taken the coward’s way out. She’d never shrunk from any problems she had. To her, that was part of being independent and self-sufficient. She dealt with whatever she had to deal with and brought it to as satisfactory a conclusion as she could.

And this was no different.

So she’d sworn to put some concerted effort into making this situation with Michael work. Into quelling these feelings. These inclinations. The whole attraction to Michael. Into conquering it rather than letting it conquer her.

It just wasn’t easy.

But it probably wouldn’t get any easier—or any less complicated—if she went around blabbing about it to more than Sharon, she decided as she put a folder in the filing cabinet.

No, it was probably good that Allison had been called away before Josie had said more than she had. The fewer people who knew what a weird course she’d just embarked on, the better. Certainly it was better not to let co-workers know what she was doing since they already thought she was a little strange—their resident poet, that’s what they called her. Sometimes with a roll of the eyes.

Besides, talking about it wouldn’t diffuse the attraction to Michael anyway. And that was her ultimate goal—keeping herself from acting on the urges he inspired and getting over the attraction.

And if she was suffering in the meantime?

She just needed to suffer in silence.

But on the upside, she told herself, angst and emotional upheaval always did give her some good material for poems.

And with as much angst and upheaval as she’d experienced just since moving into Michael’s place the night before she ought to come out of this with an entire collection.

“Wow, look at you! This is only dinner at my mother’s, you know. You didn’t have to go all-out. Although you do look incredible,” Michael said when Josie came down the stairs to the living room that evening.

She held her arms out to her sides and twirled so the filmy, African-print, ankle-length skirt she wore spread out around her. “This old thing?” she said, making a joke of it.

But in truth she’d spent a full hour choosing something to wear tonight. Of course she’d told herself that she was paying so much attention to her appearance because she was about to meet her pretend future mother-in-law and she wanted the other woman to approve of her.

It was just that that had a small hole shot through it when she’d opted for the slightly sexy, cream-colored lace camisole as a top. And then dusted her shoulders with the glittery powder she usually reserved for clubbing. And applied an artfully seductive hint of eye shadow, mascara and blush. Not to mention the splash of perfume.

None of those were likely to make her seem like the demure daughter-in-law she assumed a mother would want for her son.

But it was too late now to tone herself down—unless she removed the hoop earrings or the twelve thin strands of beads that wrapped her right wrist. Which she had no intention of doing.

What she did do, though, was cover her shoulders in the shawl she’d chosen to add some propriety as she took in the sight of Michael.

“It doesn’t look to me like I overdressed,” she said then, noting the dark gray slacks and dove gray polo shirt he’d changed into just since she’d arrived home from work. “You’re clean-shaven, you smell incredible, and you look pretty darn good yourself,” she said matter-of-factly. “Something tells me this is not how you would usually go to Mom’s for an ordinary, everyday weeknight dinner.”

He grinned for her but was nonplussed. “It isn’t just an ordinary, everyday weeknight dinner. It’s the dinner I’m bringing my new fiancée to so she can meet my mother. I thought gym shorts and a sweaty T-shirt were probably not a great idea.”

Although she had no doubt he would have looked terrific in those, too. Especially since they’d show more skin.

But she didn’t say that.

Instead she said, “That was my thinking, too. That I should dress up for the meet-the-mom dinner.” Liar, liar, liar…

“Great minds work alike,” Michael agreed. Then he checked his watch. “We should probably get going. Being late would get us off on the wrong foot with my mother.”

“We don’t want to do that,” Josie agreed.

She turned her attention to Pip then, warning him to be a good boy and turning on the radio for him. “For company,” she informed Michael as she did.

Pip followed them to the front door where Josie gave him a bone and then she and Michael left.

The wind was blowing so Michael suggested they drive the short distance they might have otherwise walked.

His red two-seater sports car was parked three doors down and when they reached it he held open Josie’s door for her before he rounded the rear of the vehicle and got behind the wheel.

On the way to his mother’s house he used the opportunity to point out to Josie where the neighborhood dry cleaner, coffee shop, news stand and food market were. And then they were pulling up in front of a brownstone similar to Michael’s place except his mother’s had shutters bordering all the windows.

“Does your mother live here alone?” Josie asked when Michael had parked and come around again to open her door for her.

“No, my younger sister Cindy still lives at home. She’ll be here tonight, too.”

Michael waited for Josie to go up the steps ahead of him and when he’d joined her on the landing at the front door he leaned over to say into her ear, “Whatever you do, don’t agree to let my mother take you to her hairdresser to have your hair done.”

Josie’s hand went automatically to her short bob, smoothing one side behind her ear self-consciously. “Is there something wrong with my hair?”

“It’s perfect just the way it is. But unless it’s four inches from your head, my mother will try to get you to see her girl.”

“Have you seen her girl?” Josie asked with heavy insinuation.

“Seen, as in dated?” he qualified.

Josie confirmed the query with raised eyebrows.

Michael chuckled wryly. “I’ve dated almost every female who has ever crossed my mother’s path. You don’t think I came lightly to the point of pretending to be engaged, do you?”

“I suppose not.”

“Just don’t let her talk you into a beauty day with her.”

“Okay,” Josie agreed. “Anything else I should be warned of?”

“Too many things to go into. You’re just going to have to fly by the seat of your pants,” he said as he reached in front of her and opened the door, allowing her a whiff of that clean-scented aftershave.

“We’re here, Ma,” he called as he motioned for Josie to go inside and followed her there, too.

“Kitchen,” a woman’s voice called from the rear of the place that was so overfurnished and overdecorated with so many mismatched items it looked like a garage sale waiting to happen.

Michael pointed in the direction he wanted Josie to go. But he must have noticed her taking in the clutter because he bent to her ear a second time and said, “She won’t throw out anything.”

That explained the eclectic collection, thought Josie. She merely nodded her understanding as they passed through the arch that led to the dining room—where the table was already set—and arrived at the kitchen.

“Hi,” a woman just closing the refrigerator greeted them.

“Hey, Cin,” Michael answered her.

But before he could introduce the tall, thin, pale-complexioned replica of himself who had to be his sister, the other woman in the kitchen spun around from the sink and said, “Oh, no, me first. Mother of the groom comes before sister of the groom.”

The older woman seemed to charge Josie then and the younger stepped aside timidly to let her by.

“Hi, Ma,” Michael said to his mother, planting a perfunctory kiss on her cheek as she wiped her hands on a dish towel and took a long look at Josie from head to toe as Michael did the honors.

“Elsa Dunnigan, this is Josie Tate, my fiancée.”

“Finally!” Elsa exclaimed as if that announcement had been forever in coming. “And you’re so pretty. No wonder he turned his nose up at everybody I sent him out with—you put them all to shame.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Josie said, embarrassed but pleased just the same.

Michael nodded toward his sister. “And this is Cindy, my sister. Cindy, Josie.”

“Nice to meet you,” Josie said.

Cindy opened her mouth to respond but before she managed it, her mother broke in.

“Josie—is your name really Josephine?”

“No, just Josie.”

“Well, welcome to the family, Josie. I can’t tell you how happy I am to be able to say that.”

“Yeah, now you can devote all your time to finding Cindy a husband,” Michael said wryly, casting a teasing glance at his sister.

“Thanks,” Cindy said almost in an aside. “As if going out with everyone from the mailman to the mortician who did Aunt Fiona’s funeral hasn’t been enough.”

“Maybe Josie knows a nice man for you,” Elsa Dunnigan said, completely ignoring the lack of enthusiasm on her daughter’s part. Then, to Josie, she said, “Or maybe you have a brother or a cousin…”

“Sorry,” Josie answered, finding the exchange—and Michael’s mother—amusing. “I don’t have any family at all.”

“But you’ll keep your eyes open,” Elsa commanded just before she herded everyone into the dining room for dinner.

Conversation over pot roast, potatoes, carrots, salad and rolls was pleasant, superficial and guided by Elsa who seemed never at a loss for words. She asked Josie a question here and there about herself but the answers didn’t seem to really register as Elsa hurried on to other subjects as if they were important pieces of information that she might forget to pass on if she didn’t do it immediately.

Since most of what Elsa said was about people or places Josie didn’t know, it left her free to surreptitiously study the older woman.

There was no doubt Elsa was Michael’s mother. They shared the same eyes, the same facial structure, the same hair color—although seeing the large bouffant flip the older woman’s hair was teased into gave Josie a belated understanding of why Michael had advised her not to let his mother talk her into going to her beautician.

But on the whole, Elsa was an attractive woman. She was trim and energetic and she had lovely skin that was only beginning to wrinkle slightly around the eyes.

She was also a good cook and Josie told her so.

“Don’t worry, I’ll teach you all of Michael’s favorite dishes,” she promised.

Then she got down to business.

“So, what’s the wedding date?” Elsa asked as they all pitched in to clear the table when they’d finished eating.

“Ma,” Michael said in a warning tone. “I told you we were having a long engagement.

“It takes forever to plan a wedding. We can’t start too soon,” Elsa said, ignoring her son’s response.

“It’s too far off to even start thinking about,” Michael persisted.

“What do you think, Josie?” Elsa said, as if enlisting an ally. “Couldn’t we at least set a date? Even if it’s a year away?”

“It’s probably more than a year away,” Michael said before Josie could answer for herself. “We want to get to know each other, remember?”

“You won’t know each other in a year? How long does it take?”

“As long as we want.”

“I still haven’t heard Josie say that she wants to wait,” Elsa persisted.

“I do,” Josie said in a hurry to get it in.

Not that it mattered because Elsa waved that away as if she were swatting at a fly. “You’ll change your mind. Michael said you work at that Manhattan Multiples place that’s been in the newspapers lately. Being around so many pregnant women and beautiful babies—you’ll want that for yourself. Mark my words.”

“I don’t think where I work is going to influence that,” Josie hedged.

“You’re wrong. Now that you know the man you’re going to marry, you’ll just want to get on with it. Why wait? You love each other. You’re engaged. Living together. What’s to wait for?” Elsa reasoned.

They were all in the kitchen again and Josie was near enough to Michael and Cindy to hear Cindy goad her brother under her breath, “Looks like you’re still first priority. Now it’s just for setting a wedding date and having kids rather than finding a wife.”

Michael made a face at her that Josie thought was probably a holdover from childhood.

Then, to get even, he said to their mother, “You’ve already gotten me engaged, Ma, now it’s Cindy’s turn. Give me a break and find her a fiancé, then Josie and I will talk about setting a date.”

Cindy wrinkled her nose at her brother and threw a hot pad at him.

But Elsa ignored them and continued to press Josie. “Let’s just set a general date—like June of next year—so I’ll have something to tell my friends.”