Win slanted her an unreadable look. "Now, why should you care what I decide to do about Sylvia? You're out of the business. Going home on an airplane tomorrow. It's not your problem any more."
Roseanne frowned, not liking his strange tone. "I guess you could say I have a vested interest."
"Not really. You're getting your retainer agreement and you're getting out. Very convenient. Nice and neat. While I'm left to clean up the mess."
Roseanne felt instantly defensive. "It's not that much of a mess."
Now Win's gaze bore straight ahead at the road. "Oh, no? I have to explain to everybody why you've gone. Then I'll have to make up a story for why you aren't coming back...ever. Not to mention that damn baby."
"Win, you agreed to this deal." Roseanne's reminder was weak, however. She knew very well under what conditions Win had agreed.
So did he. "Like I had a choice."
She hunched in her seat, pulling her shawl across her chest. He had a point, which predictably made her more reluctant to concede. "I'm not superwoman. I don't have paranormal powers. You didn't have to let me into Boyd's car on your way home from the Houston airport."
Win's jaw set. "Believe me, right now I wish I hadn't."
There. That said it all, didn't it? Roseanne turned her face quickly and gazed out the side window. Win did not consider her his woman, after all. In fact, he was sorry he'd ever met her. She kept gazing out the window, not wanting Win to see her sudden, and unacceptable, pain.
This had all been casual, for heaven's sake. She'd never been, or even wanted to be, his woman.
Once home, they got out of the car and marched into the house in a mutually sullen silence. While Win peeled off toward the kitchen, Roseanne made a beeline for the guest bedroom. She closed the door behind her, feeling unaccountably and deeply depressed.
She'd wanted some distance from Win. What she'd ended up with was the Grand Canyon. Ah, well. Probably for the best. After tomorrow she'd most likely never see the man again in her life.
But it was with a strange lump in her throat that Roseanne peeled off the lavender ball gown. She remembered Win picking it out for her, admiring it... Well, he'd admired it, anyway, before he'd seen Sylvia again.
She brushed her teeth and put on her nightgown, then got into bed. As if she were about to fall asleep. She lay on her back and stared at the wood beams on the ceiling while her insides felt cold and then hot and then cold again.
She didn't want to part from Win on bad terms. Especially when she suspected she was mostly to blame. She'd picked that fight with Win. She hadn't liked the way the evening had turned out. Playing Win's fiancée had felt far too...comfortable. And then there'd been her completely inappropriate jealousy of Sylvia.
Neither of which gave Roseanne the right to lash out at Win.
She frowned up at the ceiling. She was in the wrong. She should...apologize. Yes, maybe by doing that she could restore her relationship with Win, bring it back into balance.
For a long while she lay in bed and listened for his footsteps. When he came down the hall toward his bedroom, she'd step out her door and ask to talk to him.
His footsteps never came. Instead, maybe half an hour later, Roseanne heard something fall from the direction of the living room.
So, Win was still knocking about out there. It had to be after two in the morning.
Roseanne thought about it for another half a second, then threw off the bedcovers.
No doubt she was stark raving mad, but she pulled on a robe anyway and opened her bedroom door. The last thing Win probably wanted was another round with his unwanted houseguest, but Roseanne was determined to get that apology off her chest. To get them back to friends.
She found Win sunk into the easy chair by the Indian pattern sofa. His sharp features stood out starkly in the light of the single floor lamp. His long legs sprawled in front of himself while one hand dangled a glass of amber-colored liquid.
"Win?" Roseanne moved cautiously into the room. "What are you doing?"
"Sittin'." He was also obviously drinking. In fact, as she watched, he dragged the glass up to his lips and swallowed.
"Win." Roseanne came closer, her brows drawing down. Except for the dinner at his parents' house, she'd never seen him imbibe anything stronger than wine. Wincing as she remembered their quarrel in the car, she said, "Okay, right. I'm sorry."
Win checked his motion of lowering the glass of amber-colored liquid. "You are? About what?"
She cleared her throat. "Uh, what I said about Sylvia—" She waved a hand in the air. "I mean, what Ted said about Sylvia."
"Oh, that." His lips curved bitterly as he raised the glass again to his lips. "Don't worry about it. I figured out a long time ago I didn't have what it took to keep a woman like Sylvia satisfied."
Frowning, Roseanne crossed her arms over her chest. "What do you mean?"
Win raised his glass to eye level and swished it, watching the waves created inside. "I don't have a talent with people, just machines. And I particularly don't have a talent with women." He laughed softly. "Look at Sylvia."
"I was looking at her," Roseanne admitted. She remembered the spark lit in Sylvia's eyes when Win had asked her to dance. The woman's motives had been glaringly obvious. "Do you really need me to spell it out? She's after you."
Win breathed a laugh. "Oh, she's after me all right. But what she's really after isn't me, it's my power and position. That's it." He took another swallow of whatever was in his glass. "Not that I care any more. Thank God. But it sure hurt to find that out four years ago."
Beneath her crossed arms, Roseanne's heart picked up speed. What was he talking about? Not satisfying Sylvia and— Oh. Oh. Roseanne's eyes widened. Oh-h-h.
Finally, oh, finally a host of details came together in her mind: Ted's discomfort upon seeing Win, the fact they'd met once before—once only. The way Win had so suddenly deserted his wife, despite having been so in love with her, despite being a decent, honest person.
She felt sick, and a little faint. "Sylvia had a lover, didn't she? While you were married."
Win shot her a piercing look. "Finally figured that out, did you?"
A wave of dismay crashed through her. She must have been blind not to have seen it before now. She could hardly breathe as all the implications crashed in on her.
Win hadn't been a heel or a cad in his marriage. He hadn't betrayed any vows. Quite the opposite.
She should have seen this. Over the last ten days while getting to know Win, she should have been able to ferret out the truth. He shouldn't have been forced to slam it in her face. Instead there'd been a sort of dark curtain in her brain, a shield preventing her from making the necessary deductions. She supposed it had been safer to imagine Win at fault in the dissolution of his marriage. To view him as a deserter. Then she wouldn't have to view him as...a possible contender.
Whoa. Wait. Roseanne's mind mentally blinked. A contender for what? Shaking her head, she tossed the ridiculous thought away.
Meanwhile, Win lowered his gaze. "So now you know," he muttered.
Looking at him, Roseanne saw shame, rather than anger. That made her angry. He shouldn't feel shame, and particularly not on Sylvia's behalf. Oh, she was practically seeing red. Whatever reason she'd had for missing the truth about Win's marriage, her mission now was clear: destroy any victory Sylvia might have over Win.
"If Sylvia cheated on you," she told him, "it wasn't about your talent, sexual, or otherwise."
His lips twisted. "You got another hypothesis?"
"As a matter of fact, I do. You said it yourself. It was about power."
Win snorted. "I saw her right in the arms of her lover. Didn't look like it was about anything but sex to me."
Roseanne closed her eyes, trying not to picture that scene. Knowing Win, he hadn't had a clue what was going on before he'd walked right into the middle of it. How hurt he must have been!
Roseanne opened her eyes again. Clearly, the court was even
more prejudiced than she'd presumed. She'd need to redouble the strength of her argument. "That was awfully careless of her," she mused aloud, slowly adding, "Unless it was planned."
"Planned?"
"Sure. Sylvia was trying to manipulate you, bring you to heel. She thought your engineering company was getting all of your attention, and that role was hers to play." Behind Sylvia's beautiful siren facade, Roseanne could see a woman capable of the scheme she was describing. "She probably thought she could frighten you into giving her the primary spot in your life."
"Frighten me?" Win sounded patient, as though he were humoring Roseanne's delusions.
"Yes. She thought you'd be so scared of losing her to another man that you'd kowtow to her every whim and desire. You were probably the first person she'd ever come across who didn't do so automatically. Anyway," Roseanne added, "she grossly miscalculated."
Win was now studying the liquid in his glass. "How's that?"
Roseanne uncrossed her arms. "She didn't realize the value you placed on fidelity in a marriage."
Win's throat moved as he looked up at her. "No, she sure didn't." He paused. "But you do, don't you?"
Oh, yes, she did. So much instability and fear and resentment had been caused when her father had left her mother for another woman that Roseanne understood very well. Win's family experiences gave him the same understanding. For him, faithfulness in a marriage would be an absolute.
He didn't love Sylvia still, as Roseanne had once thought. He hated her. In trying to win her husband's devotion, Sylvia had accomplished the exact opposite.
With a sigh, Roseanne nodded. "Yeah, I get it all right. But Win—" She paused, giving him a narrow-eyed look. "Why haven't you told your family the truth, what really happened? They're totally in the dark, think you've been unfair, acted like a heel."
Win's eyes hooded as he looked away. "My family's the last people I'd want to know about this. Hell, Roseanne. Can you imagine my daddy finding out I couldn't keep my wife happy in bed?" He gave a harsh laugh. "I told Ted and Sylvia I'd happily put a bullet through either one of 'em if they breathed a word of it. Apparently, they believed me. Damn humiliating."
He was still taking the shame on himself. Even after Roseanne had tried to explain: this hadn't been about sex.
Win's attitude made her feel sick inside. It wasn't right for him to feel inadequate. Especially since she felt, at least in part, to blame. She and Win hadn't become lovers, had they?
This hadn't been for lack of temptation on her part, however. It was important Win understand this. At the same time, she didn't want him thinking she was now asking for more. So, brushing her hair behind one ear, Roseanne adopted a breezy tone. "The woman must be mad. When it comes to you, I certainly haven't had any complaints."
Win's gaze shot back to her. "No, you don't seem to have any." He leaned back in his chair. "That came as quite a surprise."
Roseanne forced herself to meet his eyes. He hadn't been the only one surprised. She hadn't come as close to falling into bed with a man in years.
"'Course we haven't done the deed," he temporized.
Of course not! If they had, Roseanne would have been a goner. Win's kisses alone made her want to melt into puddles. "And I can now see why not," she quickly interjected. "You're not in the market for a full-on relationship. After Sylvia— Well, you probably don't want to have anything to do with 'serious' ever again."
Win's eyes glittered strangely in the light from the floor lamp. "No," he said slowly. "You wouldn't think so, would you?"
"Right," Roseanne replied brusquely. "Of course not. How could you ever trust a woman again? The same way I could never trust a man."
"Uh huh." Win raised his glass and held it by the fingertips of both hands. He regarded Roseanne over the rim. "And yet," he drawled very slowly, "sometimes I wonder..."
His words trailed off, leaving Roseanne feeling as if he'd brushed her fur the wrong direction. "There's nothing to wonder about," she returned. "Trust issues. This is the real reason we both agreed to keep our relationship casual."
"Ri-i-ight," Win drawled again. He lowered his glass to look at her more fully. A slow smile curved one side of his mouth. "And yet, somehow we're engaged to be married."
"Oh, come on. That isn't real—"
"No, worse 'n that," he went on, a low laugh escaping him. "Seems you're goin' to be having my baby."
Her face went hot. "I already apologized about that—"
"Uh uh uh." He shook his head. "I'm not sure an apology is enough here, Roseanne. Not enough to fix my life. Which has gotten pretty complicated with all the stories you've been spreading willy-nilly."
"Okay, okay." She held up her hands. "I complicated your life. A little bit. I admit it. But really, Win, what can I do about it now?"
His smile had grown to both sides of his mouth. "Oh, I can think of a few things." He set his glass on the floor and steepled his fingers. "For starters, you could go ahead and marry me."
The suggestion made Roseanne feel oddly unsteady. "Very funny, Win."
"You're right. That's not the right order, is it?" He laced his hands behind his head, still grinning. "The way you got things worked out, first would be gettin' pregnant."
"Now, that is really not funny." But Roseanne met Win's still-glittering eyes and wasn't sure he was joking.
"I think it is. C'mon, honey. Whadda you say? Want to make me a happy man tonight?" His smile went from ear to ear.
Her insides felt less steady than ever, positively swimming, in fact. The idea of carrying Win's child—an idea that should have left her cold—instead made her feel very wobbly inside.
On the other hand... "What I'd say is that you've had too much to drink," Roseanne pointed out.
His smile managed to broaden. "Possibly."
"Plus you're trying to get a rise out of me."
"Definitely."
Roseanne heaved a deep, dramatic sigh. As a side benefit, she hoped the infusion of oxygen would cure her inner wobble problem. She didn't want a baby any more than Win wanted to give her one. This was just drunken bluster on Win's part.
He wasn't in the market for a serious, committed relationship. His one attempt at such a thing had turned into a nightmare. So now he was just letting off steam about their earlier argument, and the idea Roseanne was making a getaway while he was left to pick up all the pieces of their fabricated romance.
"I think you ought to get some sleep," Roseanne advised. "We've got to wake up bright and early tomorrow for my flight."
"Oh, yeah." Win lowered his hands from behind his head. "Your flight tomorrow."
"That's right. You wouldn't want me to miss it." Now, more than ever, Roseanne was sure Win looked forward to her departure. It was amazing he'd agreed to any type of relationship with her at all. He certainly wouldn't want her to stick around. The last thing he'd want would be for matters to deepen, or lead in any way toward matrimony.
"I sure would not want you to miss anything like that." Win's smile disappeared.
"Good night, Win." Momentarily, Roseanne swayed toward him. Force of habit. They always kissed good night. But tonight she forced her body straight again. His eyes held a strange light and he was, self-admittedly, drunk.
"Good night, Roseanne," he said, with exaggerated care.
Yes, definitely drunk. "I'll see you in the morning." Roseanne turned on her heel, away from that strange look in his eyes. She strode swiftly back to her bedroom.
Married and pregnant. The idea!
~~~
"Fifteen minutes!" Win's voice barked at Roseanne from the other side of her bedroom door. The voice was followed by a barrage of knocks on that same door. "I hope you're awake, lady, because you've only got fifteen minutes before we have to leave for the airport."
Gasping, Roseanne sat up in bed. She'd been asleep, deeply asleep. So deeply asleep, and so deep in a dream that she was entirely disoriented by Win's snapping voice.
In her dream, he'd been entirely
different. In her dream, they'd been sitting on the Indian-pattern sofa, wrapped in each other's arms. They hadn't been kissing, just holding each other. The sweetest sensation had sifted through Roseanne, a combination of warmth, fulfillment, and safety. She'd simply wanted to sink into the moment...forever.
"Fourteen minutes!" Win shouted through the door, and then stomped away.
Roseanne shook her head, trying to shake away the dream. Win must have given it to her with that stupid joke he'd made the night before, the suggestion about getting married and starting a family.
As if that could be what either one of them wanted.
Throwing off the covers, Roseanne got out of bed. As a matter of fact, she had a plane to catch—a plane to take her home and to that partnership now waiting for her.
The security and independence she'd sought since she was eleven years old were but a flight away.
"You can stop pounding," Roseanne informed Win ten minutes later when she opened her bedroom door. She didn't even blink at his fist which was raised to knock again. "I'm dressed and packed. The bed is stripped and the papers are on the desk."
She turned quickly from his startled face and pointed to the desk by the wall. "Just sign them and we can be on our way." She knew her attitude was odd: cool and standoffish. It was that damn dream, still working on her. It made her want strange things...like not to leave Houston. In reaction to such an idea, she felt the need to keep Win at a distance.
Accordingly, she swiveled toward her suitcase as Win walked into the room. She bent over it as if closing her bag were the most important thing in the world.
But she could see him out of the corner of her eye. As he sat before the desk, he extracted a pair of wire frame glasses from his shirt pocket. It was a casual, button-down shirt, tucked into a pair of crisply ironed khaki trousers.
Despite the casual dress, he'd probably be going in to the office later. Roseanne refused to think about that, or about how today she wouldn't be going in with him. No, nor the next day after that. In fact, she'd never be driving in to the office with him, arguing over the radio station, ever again.
The Fiancée Fiasco Page 15