She turned to Rachel. “What is Meadow Springs, the ice cream capitol of the world?”
“Hey, don’t fight it. Ice cream brings people together.”
“Another few days of these treats, and I’ll have to alter every suit I own.”
Liza barely remembered her closetful of designer suits. She’d been dressing like Meg for several days and would experience culture shock when she returned home. Home. Funny, Kansas City seemed light years away.
Her thoughts again strayed to her twin sister. Meg would be furious if she knew Liza was spending hours with her boyfriend and enjoying herself! And what would happen if Martin discovered her deception? Liza couldn’t imagine how awful that would be!
Rachel squeezed her hand. “Are you okay, kiddo? You look like you just lost your best friend.”
“I’m a little overwhelmed.”
“I’m sure you are. Why don’t we drown our sorrows in a luscious dessert? Felicia makes the best hot fudge in the county. It’s to die for.”
When Liza didn’t immediately answer, Rachel said, “Come on, sweetie. A little comfort food will make you feel better.” Her dark eyes sparkled so intensely that Liza couldn’t resist. Besides, there was no reason to punish her only ally. “Comfort food sounds great,” she said. “Let’s go for it.”
Moments later they were drizzling hot fudge over the ice cream Felicia had heaped into their bowls. Something Rachel had just said hit Liza with powerful force. You look like you just lost your best friend. That prediction would come true--and soon.
“Let’s go sit at that far table,” Rachel suggested. “So we can talk.”
“That would be nice,” Liza agreed.
When they’d settled, Rachel said, “Everyone’s gathered around Martin and the council members. Now tell me what’s bothering you.”
“My whole world is going to collapse, Rachel.”
“What do you mean?”
“Meg was upset when I conned her into being Zach’s pretend fiancée, and that was bad enough. But now she believes I’m attending a convention in Chicago. Can you imagine what her reaction will be when she learns I’m living in her cottage, spending every free moment with her boyfriend?”
Rachel stared at her, and for the first time since they’d met had nothing to say.
Liza shook her head. “Meg is my best friend. And ever since we were kids, we talked out our problems. If one of us got hurt, the other comforted her. And when one of us had boyfriend trouble, the other twin listened and advised. But when Meg finds out what I’ve done, she’ll never trust me again.”
“You can’t know that. You’re trying to write the end of the story, and it isn’t time yet.”
“What do you mean?”
“First, you must see how things pan out between Meg and Zach. If Meg falls in love with him, she may forgive you for all the confusion. Don’t try to look too far into the future.”
“Even if Meg forgives me, I’ll never be able to forgive myself for ruining Martin’s life.”
“Will you stop it? You’re making assumptions that aren’t based on fact.”
Liza’s frustration level reached a new high. “So what do I do now? Keep on lying and pretending?”
“You just move forward. Meg needs time to figure out her feelings for Zach, and you’re giving her that time.”
Liza sighed. “So the pretending goes on.”
Rachel nodded. “I don’t see an alternative, do you?”
“No, I don’t. And I’ll try not to write the ending yet. But none of this will be worth it if I lose Meg’s love and respect. And then there’s the problem with Martin.”
“What problem?”
Liza met Rachel’s gaze head on. “I think I’m falling in love with him.”
* * *
Martin dimmed the lights, put mood music on his sound system, and carried two mugs of steaming coffee into the den. Meg waited there for him, her feet tucked beneath her. She looked especially pretty in her flared paisley skirt and bright yellow blouse. If he ever wanted to pick Meg out of a crowd, he just looked for the most colorful outfit, and it usually belonged to Meg.
He handed her a mug and settled beside her on the couch.
“Thank you,” she said.
“I’m glad you agreed to come over.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“You know, honey, I love our evening talks. It’s great that we’re both night owls. I enjoy talking on the phone until the wee hours of the morning.”
Meg had that slightly-blank stare again. “Yeah, me, too,” she finally said.
“So what did you think of the town meeting?”
She sipped the steaming brew before answering. “I thought it was well organized and professionally run. And, Mr. Mayor Pro Tem, your speech was well targeted for your audience.”
“Does that mean you liked it?”
“Yes, I did. And I’m not the only one. Several people told me they hope you run for mayor.”
“Really? How many?”
“At least a dozen.”
He sipped his coffee and placed the mug on the table. Then he slipped his arm around Meg’s shoulders and pulled her close. “A whole dozen? It will take more voters than that to get me elected.”
“Then we’ll have to run a killer campaign, won’t we?”
“Gosh, honey, your attitude has really changed. I figured you’d be upset by my new responsibilities, but I’m glad you aren’t. A killer campaign, huh? Does that mean you’ll support me if I run? After Sam’s accident, you said being acting mayor might cause my business to suffer.”
“Do you think your business will suffer?”
“No. The next few months will be busy because of the new contracts, but after that, things will settle down. And I plan to hire more employees to help with the workload.”
Meg turned to face him, genuine interest flashing in her eyes. “Is this really what you want, Martin? Mayoral terms last four years, so if you get elected you’re committed at least that long. And you may decide to run for a second term.”
Meg stated her concerns in a straightforward manner. As she looked to him for his answer, Martin suddenly knew exactly what he wanted. “I love all the elements that make Meadow Springs tick,” he said. “This town is an amazing place, and I want to help keep it that way. So my answer is yes. I do want to run for mayor.”
“Then get yourself a topnotch campaign manager and go for it. Opportunities like this don’t come along every day.”
He reached for her hand and traced his thumb over the soft skin of her palm. She seemed not only open on the subject, but totally supportive. “With you at my side, I can do anything. And the last few days, you’ve helped me make some big decisions. I’m not sure I could have made them on my own.”
She smiled. “I’m glad I could help.”
“Can I ask you one more question before we stop discussing my political future?”
“Of course.”
“Will you be my campaign manager?”
Meg shot forward so fast that the coffee sloshed from her mug and splattered onto her blouse. Martin pulled out his handkerchief and stated wiping at the spots but quickly handed her the handkerchief.
She took it and dabbed at her blouse. A flush colored her cheeks, and he noticed that her hands trembled. Uh-oh. Had he taken the conversation too far? Meg was finally showing some support, but he couldn’t push her too hard.
After blotting the spilled coffee as best she could, she took a deep breath. “I’m flattered that you asked, Martin, but I could never manage your campaign. That takes real know-how. You need someone with experience.”
“Who has more management experience than you? You run a successful ballet school. You arrange recitals and dance competitions. You can organize and cook dinner for sixty and make it look easy. And you pulled my speech together like a professional speech writer. You, Ms. O’Malley, could manage anything. Anything you set your mind to.”
She sprang to her feet, and a look
of panic lit her eyes. “Will you excuse me? I want to get this stain out before it sets.”
“Sure honey, go ahead.” As she headed for the hallway leading to the bedrooms, Martin wondered why she didn’t use the guest bath off the den like she always did.
As he sat waiting for her to return, he relived the evening. His speech had gone well, and he’d received lots of compliments himself. And several folks had offered to work on his campaign if he chose to run.
But the best part of the evening was sharing his accomplishments with Meg. Soon they’d become engaged, and he hoped a wedding lay in the near future.
Should he back off on the campaign manager idea? Managing Dance Unlimited, teaching classes, and becoming Mrs. Martin Landsburg might be enough challenges for Meg to tackle.
Two years ago, he’d thought Melissa Jackson would become Mrs. Martin Landsburg, but he’d been kidding himself. Now, he actually felt grateful Melissa ran out on him. Melissa wasn’t half the woman Meg was. She wasn’t even in the same ballpark.
Maybe he’d stop by Milton’s Jewelers tomorrow. The ring he’d picked out had sat in Ernie’s safe for months now. It needed to find a permanent home: on the third finger of Meg O’Malley’s left hand.
* * *
Liza rushed out of the den and hurried down the hallway that led…she had no idea where it led! She’d never had a tour of Martin’s cabin, and why would she? Martin thought she was Meg, and Meg didn’t need a tour.
How stupid of her to charge out of the den when she had no idea where she was. Surely a place this size had several bathrooms, and she’d come across one soon.
She glanced into the room on her right where a cherry-wood roll-top desk occupied one wall and built-in bookcases filled another. She saw a dark green leather recliner that probably cost more than Meg’s Volkswagen.
Next, she came to a guest bedroom and then a room filled with exercise equipment. Uh-oh. She’d reached the end of the hallway with only one room left. As Liza stepped inside, she found herself in the master bedroom suite. Martin’s master bedroom suite!
She stopped dead and gazed at the magnificent room. A carved walnut headboard accented the king-sized bed. Dressers of various sizes lined the room, and a flat screen television covered an entire wall. This was definitely a man’s bedroom, but a tastefully decorated one. To her relief, she spotted a bathroom and hurried toward it.
The bathroom was as big as Meg’s guestroom at the cottage and contained every luxury, including a tan leather chaise lounge. Liza went to one of two black marble sinks, pulled a hand towel from a rack, and soaked one corner in cold water. Then she dabbed at her blouse until all signs of the coffee stain vanished.
When she finished, she sank onto the chaise lounge and covered her face with her hands. “I can’t do this anymore,” she said as a sob escaped her lips. She was physically and emotionally exhausted. It had been a big mistake to come to the cabin after the meeting. Meg was the night owl while Liza went to bed early. By ten o’clock, her mind shut down, and so did the rest of her. And it was ten fifteen when they’d arrived at the cabin.
The conversation about the town meeting and upcoming election drained her last bit of her energy. She leaned back in the chaise lounge, put her feet up, and took a deep breath. The soothing music Martin played in the den was piped throughout the cabin—even in his bathroom. Liza sighed. And she’d thought Martin built tiny cabins suitable for camping trips. She’d been wrong about more things than she could count.
She decided to close her eyes for just a minute. Then she’d rejoin Martin, and have him drive her home.
* * *
Surely it didn’t take this long to clean up a coffee stain, Martin thought as he waited for Meg to return. He waited a minute or two longer then felt a flash of alarm. Was something wrong?
He strode down the hall. “Meg? Where are you?”
No answer. There was no sign of her in his study or the guest bedroom. He entered his bedroom that was dimly lit by a small lamp. “Meg? Are you in here?”
Still no answer. But she had to be here. She hadn’t been kidnapped or climbed out a window. Kidnappings were unheard of in Meadow Springs, and he doubted Meg would climb out a window unless the cabin was on fire.
When he entered the master bathroom, he saw her. She lay on his chaise lounge, sound asleep. What happened? Had she suddenly felt sick?
Deciding not to wake her, Martin returned to his bedroom and folded down the maroon quilted bedspread then pulled back the sheet. After fluffing the pillow, he returned to the bathroom, and when he bent to pick Meg up, she didn’t stir.
Poor baby. She’d been through a lot lately. She’d been so disappointed Liza chose a convention over their visit. And she’d worked like a trouper, helping him write his speech. To make matters worse, he’d dragged her all over the fairgrounds and to tonight’s town meeting. He was a first-class jerk not to recognize that Meg was exhausted.
She looked so peaceful as she slept. He saw no trace of the anxiety he’d seen in her the past few days. He placed a soft kiss on her forehead and laid her down as gently as possible. But he doubted a major earthquake would awaken her.
He slipped off her shoes and placed them on the floor, then pulled the sheet over her shoulders. He stood for several moments just gazing at this magnificent woman who had stolen his heart. While she looked like Sleeping Beauty, he wasn’t much of a prince. Not when he hadn’t realized he was taking advantage of her.
He placed one more kiss on her forehead and lingered a moment to let the gardenia fragrance work its magic. And it did.
Then he grabbed his pajamas, robe, and toothbrush and headed for the guest bedroom. After changing, he climbed into bed and turned on the television but muted the sound. No sense taking a chance on waking Meg. The least he could do was give her a decent night’s rest. Starting tomorrow, he’d make this up to her. He would devote more time to Meg’s activities—to whatever she wanted to do the rest of her time off.
And he had some serious apologizing to do.
CHAPTER 7
Liza felt the rays of warm sunshine streaming through Meg’s bedroom window, but she didn’t open her eyes. How could she face another day of pretending? Surprisingly, Lancelot hadn’t been in to wake her with one of his slurpy kisses. How she would miss the pup when she returned to Kansas City.
She pulled the sheet over her shoulders, needing a few more minutes of blissful slumber before starting the day. When she did, the trauma of this charade would again hit hard—like a tsunami wave smashing into the shore.
Finally, she cracked an eye open, hoping she could stomach Meg’s flowered wallpaper one more day. Liza blinked then blinked again. There wasn’t a single flower in sight—just western artwork hanging on the walls. Had she been kidnapped and transported to a cowboy museum?
She jerked into a sitting position. This was no museum. It was Martin Landsburg’s master bedroom! But how did she get here? She glanced down and saw she still wore the clothes she’d had on last night. Her shoes had been removed and stood neatly beside the bed.
What had happened last night? After Martin had asked her to manage his campaign, she’d hit overload. She’d excused herself, and found her way to Martin’s master bathroom to clean the coffee stain from her blouse. Then she’d sunk into the comfy chaise lounge and closed her eyes.
Aha! The chaise lounge was the culprit. She’d planned to rest for a minute and had obviously fallen asleep. And spent the night in Martin’s king-sized bed!
“Are you awake?”
A jolt of excitement struck her at the sound of Martin’s sensual voice. He entered the bedroom, carrying a breakfast tray. “I know you like to sleep in, but I thought you’d be hungry by now.”
He placed the tray across her legs, and Liza felt so shocked she couldn’t speak. Even with the most difficult court case, she was never speechless. But Meadow Springs and Martin Landsburg had turned her into a tongue-tied schoolgirl.
His dark eyes sparkled with misc
hief as he caught her gaze. “Did I bore you last night? You’ve never passed out on me before.”
“I’m really sorry, Martin. I owe you an apology.”
“It’s the other way around. I’ve been working you too hard. But that’s over now. You deserve some serious spoiling, Meg. We’ll start with breakfast in bed.”
Liza almost told Martin she’d never been served breakfast in bed. But since Meg might have enjoyed this luxury a time or two, she bit back the remark.
After pulling herself into a comfortable position, she glanced at the breakfast tray that contained a cheese omelet, hash-brown potatoes, and a bowl of strawberries with cream. Hallelujah! These were foods she could actually eat!
“I hope you’re planning to join me.”
He shot her a puzzled glance. “Are you kidding? You know I never eat breakfast.”
Oops. She must remember to weigh and measure each comment. Something as simple as a breakfast invitation could get her in trouble. “I thought you might make an exception -- just this once.”
“I’ll have coffee with you before I head for the office. Say, what happened last night, anyway? You never turn in before midnight, so when you were out cold by ten thirty, I thought you were getting sick. How do you feel this morning?”
“Fine. Just fine.”
Liza wanted to ask Martin the same question. What did happen last night, anyway? “Sorry I dozed off on your chaise lounge. I haven’t been sleeping well, and it caught up with me.”
“I’m glad it’s nothing more serious.”
“So, um, why didn’t you wake me and take me home?”
“I don’t think a brass band could have pulled it off. Since you were comatose, I carried you to my room and tucked you into my bed.”
Oh, horror of horrors! Of all the places on the planet Liza did not want to be, Martin’s bed topped the list. “The guestroom would have been fine. You shouldn’t have sacrificed your bed.”
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