"I'm sure," Sam said without hesitation. "I can't profit from deceiving the woman I love. It isn't right."
"I see."
"I'm sorry if you're disappointed in me, Gramps. But I'm not the right man to take over the company."
Amos looked up at him. "And why is that?"
Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out the game card, placing it on the wide mahogany desk between them. "Because I can't even read this simple game card."
Amos's gray brows rose high on his forehead. "What are you saying?"
"I can't read, Gramps. That's the reason I dropped out of high school." Sam braced himself, not certain how his grandfather would react to this revelation.
But instead of expressing shock or disgust, Amos simply nodded. "I suspected as much."
Sam blinked. "You did?"
"Yes," Amos replied with a sigh. "Three weeks ago, when you and Dexter were on the plane with me. I gave you the game card that could very well determine your future, but you barely glanced at it. Instead, you flipped it around to show your brother."
"And he read it aloud," Sam finished.
Amos nodded. "It struck me as odd. Then I started to remember all the other times you avoided reading, both at home and at work. How you always had an audiobook playing on your stereo, but none of the books on your shelves even had a crack in the spine. They'd never been touched."
"I found a lot of ways to compensate."
Amos nodded. "Like intently studying the menu at a new restaurant, always making the waitress take all the other orders at the table. Then you'd inevitably order the exact same meal as someone else at the table. There were so many little signs that all added up to one big problem."
"I'm dyslexic."
Amos sighed. "And I'm an idiot for not noticing a lot sooner."
Sam sat down in the armchair behind him. "It's not your fault, Gramps. Most of my teachers didn't realize it either." His mouth curved into a wry smile. "Until I met up with Philomena Gallagher. She wasn't so easy to fool."
"Maybe not, but it explains a lot of things. Like why your parents weren't more upset when they learned that you dropped out of high school. They knew, didn't they?"
Sam shrugged. "I guess they couldn't handle it."
For one of the few times in his life, Sam saw raw anger burn in his grandfather's blue eyes. "I've never approved of the life my son's led, but until now I've never actually been ashamed of him."
"I'm not blaming Mother or Dad for my problem," Sam said. "I'm not certain Dad even knows about it. The truth is that I'm the one who chose to keep it a secret all these years."
"Until now. Care to tell me what, or perhaps who, is responsible for prompting this revelation?"
"Her name is Lauren." Sam grinned. "And she's the most incredible woman I've ever met."
"This certainly is a day for surprises." Amos picked up the remote control on his desk and switched on the television set mounted in the corner of his office. "I want to hear all about her. But first I have to watch the six o'clock news."
"Since when do you watch the news?"
"I try to avoid it—too depressing. But your brother insisted that I watch it tonight."
"You talked to Dexter?" That was expressly forbidden in the rules of the game. He found it hard to believe that his straight-arrow big brother would purposely break a rule.
"Just a little while ago. I found him in his office. Though he certainly wasn't acting like himself."
Sam checked his watch again, knowing he didn't have much time left before Lauren was due to arrive at his apartment.
"Look, Gramps, I can't stick around much longer. I just wanted to let you know that I appreciate you letting me compete in the game. But Dexter is the one who deserves to win the Kane Corporation. He's the one with the college degree."
"And what about you, Sam?" Amos asked, tilting his head to one side as he looked up at his grandson. "What do you deserve?"
It was a difficult question to answer. He'd spent so many years telling himself that he didn't deserve much of anything. Certainly not a wife and a family. Now he had a promising future full of unlimited possibilities ahead of him—once he learned to read. Lauren believed in him. Maybe it was time for Sam to do the same.
"I deserve to be proud of who I am," he said at last. "And I need to stop being too proud to admit when I need help."
Amos smiled and picked up the game card. "Do you want to know what this says?"
"If you want to tell me."
Amos flipped the card around. "To thine own self be true."
Sam looked his cagey old grandfather in the eye, suddenly understanding the reason for his particular assignment. He'd been lying to himself all these years, pretending he was the only one affected by his disability. But by becoming Philomena, he'd been able to see himself from another perspective—and he didn't always like the view. For the first time, he'd learned to put someone else's needs first—and had found true happiness at last.
At least until the sound of Dexter's voice broke into his thoughts. He looked up at the television, unable to believe his ears.
"What the hell does he think he's doing?" Sam asked, his stomach twisting into a tight knot as he listened to his brother's statement.
"It sounds like he's telling the world about his game. And yours."
Sam didn't wait to hear the rest. He sprinted out of the office, hoping Lauren had been delayed in class. Hoping she didn't turn on the six o'clock news.
Hoping he hadn't just lost her forever.
* * *
15
« ^ »
Lauren had sailed through her literature test, surprising herself and the professor when she was the first one done. Happy to have some extra time to prepare for her dinner with Sam, she stopped at a small boutique on the way home and splurged on a new dress she found on the clearance rack. Her budget didn't have room for extras, but she couldn't resist.
It was a small black number that hugged her body as if it had been made just for her. The salesgirl tried to press a pair of three-inch black heels on her, too, but the whimpers she heard emanating from her checkbook made her reluctantly decline.
"Philomena, I'm home," Lauren called out as she walked into her apartment. Only silence met her, and quick glimpse into her roommate's bedroom told her that Philomena was out again. Lauren hummed to herself as she hung her new dress up in her closet. Maybe Philomena had enjoyed a romantic afternoon rendezvous as well. Her roommate had been acting a little mysterious lately. And definitely showing all the signs of a woman with a secret. Lauren hoped love was the reason. She wanted everyone to feel as good as she did at this moment.
The telephone rang and she skipped into the living room, certain it was Sam on the line. "Hello?"
"Where have your been all afternoon?"
Her heart sank at the sound of Chuck's voice. But she squared her shoulders, determined not to let him ruin her perfect day. "I was out."
"I know that. I tried calling three or four times. Don't you ever check your machine?"
She held one hand out and studied her fingernails, wondering if she had time to polish them. "Did you want something, Chuck?"
"I want you to turn on your television."
"I was just on my way out…"
"Sam's brother is about to hold a news conference," Chuck interjected. "And I think what he has to say might interest you."
Lauren's curiosity to see Sam's brother made her walk over to the small, portable television and flip it on. "Anything else?"
"Call me when it's over," Chuck said, then hung up.
She stared at the cordless receiver for a moment, then smiled and shook her head. Chuck had always had a flare for the dramatic. He could sit by his telephone all night waiting for her to call as far as she was concerned.
Walking over to the sofa, she picked up the remote, then clicked the button to the local news station.
"This is Darryl Starr reporting to you live from Handy Press, the small company th
at published How To Jump-Start Your Love Life, authored by the notorious Harry Hanover. Mr. Hanover, will be giving a brief statement in just a moment."
What did the author of How To Jump-Start Your Love Life have to do with Sam's brother? It didn't make sense, but since Lauren had purchased a copy of the book the day before she met Sam, her curiosity was aroused. She sat down, tucking her legs underneath her, then settled back against the sofa to watch the impending news conference.
Soon a man who looked surprisingly like Sam appeared on the television screen. He was a little taller and wore a pair of glasses, but the shape of his jaw reminded her of Sam—and Philomena.
The man nervously cleared his throat, then directed a question to someone standing off-camera. "Am I on?"
One of the reporters gathered around him shouted a question. "Do you plan to turn yourself in to the police, Mr. Hanover?"
Lauren was confused. Despite the resemblance to Sam, this man's name was apparently Hanover. No relation to Sam. But why had Chuck said he was Sam's brother?
She got her answer as soon as the man opened his mouth.
"No. Because I'm not Harry Hanover. My name is Dexter Kane and I work for the Kane Corporation. But for the last few weeks, I've been masquerading as Harry Hanover."
All the reporters began shouting questions as Lauren sat up on the sofa, mesmerized by the scene unfolding before her eyes.
Dexter Kane held up both hands to quiet the mob of reporters surrounding him. "If you'll just let me make my statement, I think it will answer all of your questions."
Some of the reporters ignored his plea for silence, but Dexter Kane forged ahead anyway, looking straight into the television camera.
"A few weeks ago, Handy Press hired me to portray Harry Hanover, author of How to Jump-Start You Love Life. They were duped by him into believing that he was agoraphobic, but they wanted to give this book," he held a copy high in the air, "the kind of promotion that would make a difference in the lives of people everywhere."
Lauren looked at the telephone and wondered if she should call Sam. Did he know about this? But the sound of Dexter's deep voice drew her attention back to the television set.
"When Handy Press's publicist, Kylie Timber-lake, approached me to impersonate Mr. Hanover, she had no idea that I was associated with the Kane Corporation. You see, Harry Hanover wasn't the only one duping Handy Press. I was playing the role of a male escort and didn't reveal my real identity for one very simple reason. My grandfather had forbidden me from telling anyone that I was playing a real-life version of Chameleon, the career-role playing game that made his company internationally famous."
She saw Dexter look around the now-silent crowd of reporters. When no new questions arose, he continued his story.
"The rules were simple. Tell no one and play the game for one month. My only competition was my brother, who's playing a game of his own. The prize is ownership of the family business."
Lauren's entire body grew numb. Sam did know. And, according to his brother, he was playing a game of his own. So why hadn't he told her about it?
"Well, that month is up in five more days," Dexter continued. "But I'm not going to play the game anymore. I'd rather lose that company, the one I've dreamed of owning my entire life, than lose the woman I love. I may not be the real author of How To Jump-Start Your Love Life, but it taught me that love is more important than business. Hell, it's more important than anything." He smiled into the camera.
Lauren picked up the remote and flipped off the television set. Then she stood up, her knees shaking so badly that she had to reach out to the sofa to steady herself. Sam was playing a game. And she had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that she knew just what that game was.
She walked to Philomena's bedroom and flipped on the light. The room was spartan, the bed neatly made and the top of dresser bare except for a fine layer of dust. No hand lotion, no perfume, no hair spray. Nothing to indicate the room belonged to a woman.
But then Philomena Gallagher wasn't your ordinary woman. In fact, she was like no woman Lauren had ever met before.
All the oddities about her roommate began to suddenly cram her fuzzy brain. Philomena always wore heavy makeup, even first thing in the morning. She talked about Sam easily enough, but rarely mentioned anything about herself or her past. And she was tall. Very tall. The same height as Sam. And her eyes were the exact same shade of blue.
The telephone began to ring, but she ignored it. She didn't want to talk to Chuck right now. And certainly not to Sam. Not when her life was falling apart. She walked over to the closet, her stomach churning. She wanted so badly to be wrong, but all her instincts told her she was right. Pulling open the closet door, she saw a row of pantsuits hanging on the rod in front of her. And on the shelf above were three wigs on plastic foam heads.
She whirled and headed for the dresser, haphazardly pulling open drawers. Inside was a vast array of cosmetics. Not over-the-counter brands you could find at the local department store, but expensive jars of theater makeup that were obviously used by professionals.
When she reached the bottom drawer, she found the three items that broke her heart. One was a stack of boxer shorts. The second was a man's razor and a can of shaving cream. Men's shaving cream. But the irrefutable evidence of his betrayal was the ticket stub to the Steelers game they'd attended last Sunday. Section B, Row 13, Seat 12.
Sam was Philomena.
She sagged onto the floor, her throat tight. He'd lied to her. Everything had been a lie. Tears burned in her eyes as she thought of the afternoon they had just shared together. She squeezed her eyes shut as every moment of the past few weeks played over again in her mind.
Lauren groaned aloud when she thought of all the intimate conversations she'd had with Philomena. All the things she'd told her roommate about Sam. When she was really telling Sam himself. He must have loved that. But one thing seemed certain—he didn't love her or he never would have deceived her this way.
Hot tears rolled over her cheeks. It didn't make any sense. Why would Sam do this to her? It was a question that wouldn't be answered.
Because Lauren never wanted to see him again.
Sam was completely out of breath by the time he raced up the stairs to Lauren's third-floor apartment. Every second that ticked by was just more time for someone to tell Lauren about Dexter's press conference. He wanted the chance to explain in his own words. To try and make her understand.
But the message that was waiting for him outside her apartment door told him that he was too late. A box sat on the floor, overflowing with Philomena's clothes and wigs.
Sam pushed the box out of the way, then knocked on the door. "Lauren?"
No answer. He turned the doorknob and found it locked. "Lauren, let me in!"
Silence emanated from the other side of the door, but his gut told him she was inside. He had to talk to her. He had to try and make her understand.
Reaching into his pocket for his key, he unlocked the dead bolt, but he could only open the door as far as the chain lock would allow. It was far enough for him to see Lauren sitting on the floor of the living room, her back against the sofa. A single candle burned on the coffee table. "Lauren?"
She looked up at him, her eyes red-rimmed. He'd made her cry. Again. Bitterness rose in the back of Sam's throat and he felt more ashamed than the day his mother had discovered he couldn't read.
"Go away," Lauren said, her hoarse voice laced with despair.
"Please let me in."
"I'll call the police if you don't leave right now."
The threat didn't faze him. He was more scared of losing Lauren than losing his freedom. "You saw my brother on television."
"You lied to me."
"I can explain."
"Funny." A ghost of a smile haunted her mouth. "That's just what Chuck used to say when he'd been out half the night."
Sam's jaw clenched. "I'm not Chuck."
"I know," she replied, meeting his gaze
dead on. "You're worse. You barged into my life, into my apartment, pretending to be a woman. The only question is why?"
He owed her at least that much. "It was the bra."
Her brow crinkled. "The bra?"
"The Seductress. I was working for Midnight Lace. They wanted me to obtain a prototype of the Seductress before it hit the market."
She shook her head in wonder. "And I gave it to you." Her eyes gleamed in the candlelight. "Along with my heart and my body. Congratulations. I hope you're duly compensated for a job well done."
"It wasn't like that, Lauren. I never intended to give Midnight Lace the bra. Not after I got to know you. Not after I fell in love with you."
She closed her eyes. "Please leave."
"Let me in."
"If you ever cared about me, you'll leave right now."
"But I love you. And you love me. You told me so this afternoon."
"How can I possibly love you?" Her eyes blazed with anger and hurt. "I don't even know who you are!"
Then she got up and walked out of the living room without another word. He watched her disappear down the hallway, overwhelmed by the urge to break down the door and follow her. But that was something Chuck McBride would do, and he'd been compared to that jerk enough already.
Sam closed the door to the apartment, giving Lauren her privacy. He wasn't about to let her go forever. But if he ever wanted to win her back, he'd sure as hell have to find some way to make it up to her. If that were even possible.
His grandfather should have added another lesson to his recent education: Love wasn't a game.
* * *
16
« ^ »
The next morning, Sam awoke to the sound of someone banging on his front door. He winced as he sat up in bed, his head pounding. After leaving Lauren's apartment last night, he'd dropped all his Philomena paraphernalia off at a local women's shelter, then driven around until the wee hours of the morning, trying to figure out how to win Lauren back.
OPERATION BABE-MAGNET / OPERATION BEAUTY Page 24