by Elaine Fox
Unfortunately, it seemed to take having sex with Megan to cure his sleeping problems. Once again, the last time they’d been together he’d had the best night’s sleep in days.
And though he knew he shouldn’t, he’d been hoping she would stop by again just about every night since the last time she’d come, the night she’d been out with her friends. For some reason he was able to justify their trysts if she came to him. If he were to go to her, however, he would feel as if he were leading her on.
Or himself. One or the other.
Aunt Edna emerged from the bathroom with Lucy behind her and he was glad to see that she was dressed properly and wore makeup—a sure sign that this was another “good” day.
He and Lucy exchanged pleasantries before the aide left the room and Aunt Edna fixed him with her most piercing gaze.
“So, how is the young woman into whose eyes you so unwillingly fall?” she asked, a devilish look on her face.
“Bad news,” he said, trying to be light and failing. “You won’t be rooting for her when I tell you what she told me the last time we met.”
“What is it?” She looked concerned.
“It was quite personal, actually. I don’t feel at liberty to say, exactly,” he said, wondering what had gotten into him to want to be so open with another person’s private information.
“So you’re getting closer to her,” Aunt Edna said, a note of satisfaction in her voice. “You’ve developed that friendship you said you wanted.”
He leaned forward in his chair, his elbows on his knees, and looked down at the floor. “I suppose so. But…I’m not sure I can handle it.” He looked up at his aunt, the one person on earth who knew him better than anyone else. Better than Bitsy. Better than Lizzy, even.
“What do you mean? Of course you can handle it,” she said indignantly. “You’re the strongest, most caring and loyal man in the world, Sutter Foley. Don’t let this blooming fame you’re so unhappy with make you second guess yourself.”
He chuckled softly. “It’s not the fame. It’s just…when she told me this personal thing I felt…I felt almost hurt, on her behalf.”
Aunt Edna hesitated, then said, “Well, isn’t it something you could help her with?”
He shook his head. “I don’t believe so. I don’t even know how I’d offer, frankly. But I have to say I was moved by it. And daunted that she would confide in me. It was…a tragedy, I believe.”
“I see.”
But she couldn’t see, he thought. Not unless she’d seen the pain in Megan’s eyes the way he had in that instant after she’d told him she couldn’t have children. She could have answered his question differently. Could have told him she was on the pill, or had taken care of contraception some other way, but she’d just laid it out there. She could not have children. And he’d never before met someone who he thought would make a better mother.
“Are you sorry she told you?” Aunt Edna asked.
“No. I’m more…I’m amazed by it. She hasn’t a dishonest bone in her body. Not even to protect her own privacy.” He tented his fingers together in front of him and lowered his forehead to the index fingers. “While I…”
“While you what?” his aunt prompted.
He raised his head, dropping his hands. “I give away nothing, confide in no one. No one but you, that is.” He smiled at her wryly. “But I’ve been accused of being selfish with my thoughts. Perhaps a bit obsessive about my privacy.”
“Don’t be daft, Sutter, you have dozens more intrusions on yours,” his aunt objected. “You’ve got to be protective. She chose to confide in you and that’s a wonderful thing. You’re being a friend, just as you wanted to be. You should feel good about that.”
“She only confided because I asked. She didn’t volunteer it.”
Aunt Edna paused. “But it was her choice. She could have said nothing.”
He smiled and shook his head. “Not Megan.”
Another week had passed since Megan left Sutter that message and she was now convinced she’d made a terrible and foolish mistake. One she shouldn’t have made at this stage in her life.
He wasn’t interested. He’d just taken what she’d offered—freely, she reminded herself—and then he’d had enough. His girlfriend had moved to town and she, Megan, was history.
“Maybe he didn’t get the message,” Penelope said. “Things like that happen all the time.”
Megan smiled at her wanly, her fingers playing with one of Peyton’s silken ears. The dog’s muzzle rested against her knee.
“Maybe,” she said skeptically.
They were sitting under the trees at the dog park, a humid breeze blowing over them like air out of a convection oven. Even the dogs were lethargic. Penelope’s Wimbledon was sprawled in some mud a few feet away. Only two other people were in the park and their dogs, a golden and some kind of beagle mix, were walking slowly around the fenceline with their tongues lolling.
“But even if he didn’t get the message,” Megan continued, “he hasn’t called me anyway. And if he wanted to see me, he would call. That’s Dating 101.”
Penelope sighed. “He might feel bad. I mean, that woman did just move to town, supposedly because of him. That Briana person. Maybe he needs time to break up with her before calling you.”
Megan let go of Peyton’s ear and the dog shifted so that she lay along Megan’s thigh. She pulled away an inch. A hot furry animal was not what you needed up against you in ninety-eight-degree weather.
“Why in the world would he break up with her?” Megan asked, anger at the situation tingeing her voice. “She’s beautiful and classy and rich—”
“He couldn’t possibly care that she’s rich,” Penelope interjected. “Or that you’re not. He’s got more money than God.”
“Okay,” Megan said, “but she’s still beautiful and classy. And she’s still in his league. Unlike me. I’m just…I’m nobody.”
“Now, Megan—”
Megan shook her head and held up a hand. “No, Penelope. I appreciate your trying to make me feel better about this, but let’s call a spade a spade. Okay, I know I’m not really a nobody, not in the vast scheme of things, but let’s face it, in Sutter Foley’s world I am definitely one of the little people. And the bottom line is, if he wanted one of the little people he’d have a lot more choices than just me.”
Penelope patted her hand. “But he couldn’t do better than you.”
“Oh please, he used to be married to Bitsy Powell, and she was rich and beautiful too, right?”
Penelope admitted it, reluctantly.
“So there’s no question that wealthy women are his type.” Megan pushed her sandals off and ran her feet through the grass.
“We’re talking about two women,” Penelope said. “That’s not much of a sampling. Who knows who else he’s dated in his life? Besides, rich women are probably the only kind he meets anymore.”
“Well, regardless,” Megan continued. “Whatever list he has of desirable qualities, they obviously aren’t the ones I have or he’d have called. No, I did this to myself. I went after him. I made it easy for him. I was fun and available and discreet.” She laughed cynically. “I let him have the milk for free. Can you believe how right our mothers always turn out to be?”
“And always at the worst times,” Penelope agreed. “Although, my mother wasn’t right when she said Glenn and I would have beautiful children together.”
Megan gave her a sympathetic look. “You’d have beautiful children with anybody, Pen. I mean that.”
Penelope smiled at her. “And you, Megan, will find someone who loves the cow even more than the milk. I’m sure of that.”
Megan laughed. “That’s right. There’s got to be someone better for me out there, too, right? I mean, I may not be the right woman for him but he’s not perfect for me either. He doesn’t love animals, for one thing.”
“That’s right!” Penelope said, jumping into the game. “And he’s a workaholic. Day and night and week
ends. You’d never see him.”
“Talk about an unbalanced life! I can’t be with someone who doesn’t know how to play. And he’s a terrible communicator. Doesn’t know his own emotions from a hole in the ground,” Megan added.
“Let alone care about yours!” Penelope jabbed her finger decisively toward Megan. “That would drive you crazy, wouldn’t it?”
“Of course it would! And he’s—he’s aloof, and weird about his privacy.” Which she could understand, but still. As long as she was thinking Perfect Soulmate she could add it to the list.
“He’d never let your friends come over, if you lived with him,” Penelope added, nodding. “You’d be a prisoner in that mansion.”
Megan couldn’t imagine letting that happen, but went with the flow. “Right. And he’s a snob.”
“Right.” Penelope sat back in her chair and gathered her hair in one hand, sighing. “Okay. So now we know what we have to do.”
Megan had tired of the diversion too, finding her mind coming up with arguments for every point. “What’s that?”
Penelope smiled and gave her a sideways glance. “Find someone who wants to buy a cow!”
Twelve
“Miss Montgomery is here.” Arnetta’s voice over the intercom was accompanied by something that sounded like marbles spilling onto the floor in the background.
“Send her in,” Sutter said, even though he was in the middle of a document and Montgomery was early. They had a meeting in Washington they had to leave for in forty-five minutes, to ink a new contract with a large multinational company needing software support. He was just putting the finishing touches on a memo to human resources about what positions would need to be filled for the new work. The project was a coup, snatched from the near-victorious grasp of a larger software company, and Sutter was anxious to get them signed on the dotted line.
Montgomery entered the office with her briefcase in one hand and a newspaper under her arm. Forty-five minutes early was taking enthusiasm to absurd heights, in his opinion, but Montgomery was nothing if not gung-ho.
“Have a seat,” he said, not slowing his typing, “we’ve got some time before we have to leave.”
“Yes, I know,” Montgomery said, taking a seat across the desk from him.
As he focused on the document in front of him, he became dimly aware that Montgomery had unfolded her paper and put it in the center of his desk. Ten minutes later he finished his on-screen thought and turned to her.
“What’s this?” He picked it up and instantly felt annoyed. The National Tattler. He nearly threw it back on the desk, but she had obviously brought it for a reason. Instead of looking at it, he opted to look at Montgomery. “Let’s cut to the chase. What’s in it?”
Montgomery, her face a mask of trepidation, said, “I’d rather not paraphrase, sir. It’s referenced on the front page, but the article’s on page three.”
Sutter sighed and studied the tabloid. In the top right-hand corner was a picture of himself and another person sitting at a table. Upon closer inspection he saw who it was and nearly groaned aloud. It was Megan Rose, sitting with him on the deck at Brock’s.
He snapped open the paper to page three.
BILLIONAIRE DUMPS HEIRESS
FOR POOR VETERINARIAN
By Tanner Pierce
He closed his eyes and felt fatigue wash over him. How did they get away with making this stuff up? His lawyer counseled him repeatedly that a lawsuit would only make things worse. It would draw attention to the article by coverage of the civil action in mainstream news sources and therefore reach people who would not otherwise be concerned with or even aware of the National Tattler’s speculations.
Still, it was infuriating. And there’d be hell to pay with Briana, who was becoming increasingly insistent about defining their relationship anyway. No doubt that was because he’d been holding her at bay since she’d moved to town. He had to get over his abnormal backwards guilt about Megan before he could figure out his feelings for Briana.
He read on.
FREDERICKSBURG, Va.—With Briana Ellis still unpacking boxes in her newly rented home just yards from Sutter Foley’s Fredericksburg, Va., estate, the handsome billionaire Foley was seen in a cozy lunchtime tete-a-tete with hometown beauty Megan Rose. Rose, a local veterinarian, when reached for comment said, “Yes, we did have lunch. And he’s very nice. We’re…friends.”
Sutter stopped and read that sentence over. “Rose, a local veterinarian, when reached for comment…” He looked up at Montgomery, appalled. “She was reached for comment?”
“Apparently,” Montgomery said.
“What the bloody hell is she doing talking to these people?” He nearly threw the paper on the ground, but he had to see what else she’d said. “Doesn’t everyone know not to talk to the Tattler?”
“I would think anyone with even half a brain would know, sir.” Montgomery kept her expression bland.
Sutter continued to read.
Lunch is not all they’ve been sharing, however. Rose’s car has been spotted at Foley’s estate late in the evening, prompting speculation about the exact nature of their relationship. When suggested to Rose that things might be more friendly than she was letting on, she laughed coyly and said, “That would be quite a story, wouldn’t it?”
Indeed it would. And this reporter is on it.
In characterizing her relationship with Foley, Rose suggested with some pride that this article be titled, “Billionaire dumps heiress for poor veterinarian!”
Rose, however, was not completely without sympathy for her competition. Acknowledging how hard the news would be for the heiress to take, Rose lamented on her rival’s behalf, “Briana is gorgeous, rich and exactly his type. I’m nobody.” In other words, she believed that news of Rose’s relationship with Foley was bound to be very upsetting for Ms. Ellis.
Foley biographer and CelebRiches magazine writer Drew Martin commented, “Megan Rose obviously has high hopes for this relationship, casting herself, rightly or wrongly, ahead of Briana Ellis in the contest to win Mr. Foley’s heart. And checkbook.”
Foley, having been burned by love once already and still, according to reports, grieving the loss of his first wife, does not seem likely to make a decision between the two quickly.
Martin continued, “If I had to bet, I’d put Ellis in the lead, with Rose coming in a distant second. Despite her delusions of grandeur, she’s just a bit of small-town entertainment on the side.”
Still, with regard to her late nights at the Foley mansion, Rose was not above exulting in her perceived triumph. When asked how Foley was in bed, she exclaimed ecstatically, “Oh my God!”
Sutter put the paper down slowly. They’d seen her car at his place. They’d photographed them lunching. They knew that something was going on and if he hadn’t been such an idiot and let something go on this would just be one more harmless lie the paper had concocted.
Instead, the cat was struggling to get out of the bag.
It was his own damn fault. He’d dragged Megan Rose into this cauldron himself and discovered that he didn’t know her at all. This proved it. She was an accident. An impulse. Anyone looking at it objectively would call her a pickup, even if it hadn’t exactly felt that way.
He hadn’t intended to have an affair with her. And he certainly hadn’t thought it would lead anywhere. And now, here she was, talking to the Tattler as if they’d agreed they had a future.
“Do you think she’s trying to force your hand, sir?” Montgomery offered.
Sutter slowly focused on his VP’s face. “Force my hand?”
“That Rose woman.” Montgomery nodded toward the paper. “If she makes a stir, causes Briana to break up with you…maybe she thinks something will happen between you.”
Sutter studied her a long moment. “You don’t believe what’s written here?” It almost wasn’t a question, and part of him hated that his tone misconstrued the truth of the situation.
“Of course not.” She
looked indignant at having been asked. “I mean, I know you’ve had dealings with her, because of that dog. And you obviously went to lunch. But that does not translate to the billionaire dumping the heiress to me.” She frowned. “You’re worried about Briana’s reaction to this, aren’t you?”
He stared at the paper. “Among other things.”
“I’m sure she’ll understand,” Montgomery said. “But you may want to see a little less of this Rose woman.”
Sutter’s eyes darted to Montgomery’s. “The day I start altering my behavior because of a bloody rag like this one is the day I have my head examined,” he said sharply, his vehemence surprising even himself.
Montgomery’s expression was taken aback. “I was thinking more of altering it for Briana, not the National Tattler.”
“Six of one…” he muttered.
“I beg your pardon?”
He looked up to see Montgomery’s face as alert as any reporter’s.
“I answer to no one, Montgomery,” he stated, “least of all those who try to manipulate me.”
“Is Briana—?”
“The paper,” he said irritably, shaking it once. “Let’s leave Briana out of this.”
“Of course.” Montgomery’s gaze dropped to her lap.
The intercom buzzed. Arnetta’s voice filled the room. Was it just him or was it abnormally loud? “The car is here for you, Mr. Foley.”
Damn. The meeting. Sutter rose. “All right. No time to think about this now.” He threw the paper in the trash and grabbed his briefcase. It would be tough shifting mental gears from this revelation but he could do it. He had to. Later, he told himself, he would figure out why the idea of seeing less of Dr. Rose had made him so angry.
Exiting the office, Arnetta got up from her seat, bumping into her desk lamp and sending the chair into the permanently dented file cabinet.
“Good luck, sir,” she said, waving as if he were half a mile away.
“Thank you, Arnetta.”