They were discussing who could possibly play the role of the robot on the cheap, namely Judy herself, when the doorbell rang.
“Saved by the bell!” Judy said sweetly.
“A temporary fix,” Krista vowed. “You’ve given yourself away as a natural greeter with that clown appearance at Hawkson Motors.” Tossing her pencil onto the table with a clatter, she moved through the small living room to the door. A glance through the peephole and she was scurrying back to Judy.
“Ah, ah…” Her mouth hung open. Wide.
“What’s the matter?”
“It’s him. Doughman!”
“No kidding.” Judy’s laughter rang out, as she’d been treated to a vivid description of the morning’s events at the newspaper.
“What could he possibly want?”
“How did he even find you? You aren’t listed in the phone book.”
Krista was thoughtful. “The aunts must have done something, Jude.”
“Would they dare take it to the next level after today’s fiasco?”
Krista gasped. “Certainly! They’re bigger promoters than we are. Remember the time they signed us up for voice lessons so they could get a free blender?”
“The teacher was so mean, and it only had three speeds.”
“Remember the time their handsome neighbor needed dates for his homely twin sons and they lured us to that dance?”
“Those hideous gardenia corsages they pinned on us at the house should’ve been a bellwether.”
“Remember the time I had engine trouble at the State Fair and called them to find me a professional mechanic? Instead they summoned Rick into action, that old boyfriend of mine they liked so much just because his mother once shook hands with Susan Lucci?”
“That must have been an awkward tune-up, as you had another date at the time.”
“I ended up with no dates for weeks!”
“Okay.” Judy relented. “The aunties are poor operators at times.”
“All the time! Which is why it’s high time I slip out of their clutches.”
Judy halfheartedly tried to conceal her amusement. “Well, they’ve gotcha at least one last time.”
“Really?” Krista folded her arms and jutted her chin stubbornly. “I believe I’ll simply pretend I’m not here.”
“He’s seen the lights. Probably heard the jazz.”
She knew to the depths of her sensible soul that she had to respond, but couldn’t help fretting. “After the way he stormed off on a threat this morning, who knows what he wants now!”
“So slip into Simona and find out!” Judy enthused. “Sounds more exciting than our work.”
Perhaps it did. A little bit…
Suddenly Krista clapped her hands to her bare cheeks. “But I can’t in this condition. Simona wouldn’t dress this grubby if she were the last woman on earth, or wear her hair like Little Bo-Peep, or be caught dead without makeup.”
“She would if she was just out of the shower—no, make that a scented bubble bath,” Judy amended, on a roll. “I will answer the door, while you hide in the bathroom. Count to fifty, then come out in a robe, your hair concealed in a towel. That way, he won’t expect the full hairdo and face makeup.” Noting that her friend seemed paralyzed, Judy gave her a push toward the hallway. “Scoot!”
Michael was startled when the door finally popped open and rather than the tall, willowy, dark-featured Krista, there stood a petite blonde. Judging by her cute appearance, he first thought she might be a teenager. But as she moved under the entry light he realized it was her size and hairdo that had thrown him off. Like Krista, she was well into her twenties.
“Hello,” he began slowly. “I’m not sure I have the right town house. Does Krista Mattson live here?”
“Why, yes.”
“I’m Michael Collins. An acquaintance,” he added awkwardly.
Judy expressed delighted surprise. “The man from the newspaper. Well, come right in.” She stepped out of the way as he crossed the threshold into the tiny entryway. “I’m Judy Phillips, Krista’s best friend.”
“Nice to meet you.” He followed Judy into the living room, toting the goodie basket.
Krista’s guest, a levelheaded friend no less, proved to be only his first surprise.
There was the home’s stark decor to appraise, white walls bearing some abstract prints, champagne-shaded carpeting, tan leather furniture and some low, practical end tables.
Hardly the sultan’s harem he’d envisioned, with Krista awaiting him on a purple satin sofa, dressed in something suitably flimsy to help cajole him into submission.
A secret part of him had been looking forward to that.
“Krista’s bathing at the moment,” Judy explained.
The announcement snapped him from his reverie. He could hear the annoyance in his own voice. “Is she planning to go out this evening?”
Judy considered this and winked slyly. “Perhaps later. She’s hard to pin down after dark.”
The notion of pinning down the sexy Simona after dark sent an unwelcome tremor of desire through him. It wasn’t fair that he found Krista so attractive when she was in the process of wrecking his life.
In her favor, though, she’d made a valiant attempt at amends.
Still, all things considered, wasn’t it the very least she could do?
His feelings for her rose and fell like a wild roller coaster. She was bad, she was good. Back and forth. He was feeling as anxious as a schoolboy picking up his first date.
What fun she could have with his attraction to her, considering that it backed her theory that his fiancée wasn’t right for him.
Krista’s apparent insight into his psyche was a number one frustration.
Her sexuality was a close second, however. But surely his feelings were physical, whimsical. They had no footing in reality. The woman flounced around in costume, doled out daring irresponsible advice to strangers. She was too much like a carnival gypsy for his comfort.
Judy was watching him curiously. “Maybe I’ll go tell Krista you’re here.”
“She’s expecting me, of course.”
Judy’s eyes widened a fraction. “Is she?”
He beamed. “A man doesn’t receive a basket like this one, a message like hers, every day.”
“Please, take a seat.”
Krista jumped as Judy eased through the bathroom door. She had shucked down to her white cotton bra and panties and was wrapping a towel round her head turban-style.
“You were only supposed to count to fifty.”
“I’m too nervous to count. Have any clue what he wants?”
Judy leaned against the vanity. “He says he got a message.”
“From whom?”
“From you.”
Krista stared at her stricken reflection in the huge wall mirror over the vanity. “Wonder how hard the aunts have pushed it?”
“Fairly hard, I imagine, to get this man off his high horse and over here. Good lord, he’s humming with assurance. And what a hottie. Easy to see why you’re shaken up.”
“How angry is he?”
“Angry? Who said anything about angry?”
“He isn’t mad?”
“Nope. He’s…excited.”
Krista stared at her own blank-faced reflection. “I can’t think why.” But the very idea sent her pulse racing. She took a fortifying breath. “May as well get this over with. Quick, hand me my robe.”
Judy touched the white velour wrap on the door peg. “Is this the only robe you have?”
“It is a bathrobe. I am supposed to be bathing.”
“Simona’s only use for velour would be to give her shoes a quick polish.”
Krista moaned. “You are so right.”
“C’mon, you’ve got to get into the spirit of things.” Judy looked around the bathroom suite, opened the linen closet. “Have you anything else?”
“I have the scarlet kimono we both bought on our trip to Hawaii last year.”
&n
bsp; “Where is it?”
“On the shelf of my bedroom closet, near the back.”
“Hope it’s not in its original packaging.”
Krista scoffed defensively. “Oh, just fluff it up a little bit!”
Judy gave her head a rueful shake. “Mine has wine stains and a rip in the sleeve from a private dance session with that assistant director from Uptown.”
“You played around in a two hundred dollar robe?”
“Yes. It was worth every penny.” Judy turned to grip the doorknob. “I’ll be back in a flash with the goods. In the meantime, run an inch of water in the tub and sprinkle in some oil for effect.”
Krista raised a dubious brow. “Surely that won’t be necessary. He won’t be coming in here.”
Judy spoke in a light singsong. “I don’t know. He seems set on a real visit. Brought along refreshments, a goodie basket, complete with a bottle of merlot. Oh, and by the way, the basket is from you.”
Krista’s heart skipped a beat. “Hmm…better bring the matching scarlet slippers, as well.”
“I’ll bet those are in their original box, too.” With that shot, Judy left, returning a few minutes later with the packages.
Krista eventually mustered the nerve to make her appearance in scarlet. She entered the living area to see Judy and Michael in the dining alcove, poring over their cluster still spread out on the table. Had he discovered her true vocation? Surely Judy wouldn’t let that happen. Not on purpose. But Michael was sharp.
“Krista!” Judy spotted her first. “Michael noticed the Visons Electronics campaign. I was just telling him all about my company. He thinks it’s awfully nice of you to help me brainstorm whenever I need an extra muse.”
Not a bad story, Krista decided. Michael appeared to be buying it, quite engrossed in the cluster they’d created.
As for her physical appearance, she hoped she’d found a balance between Simona and herself, dressed in this exotic ensemble, with the amount of face color she generally wore to work. Nervously she concentrated on readjusting the sash cinching her waist.
“So…Krista.”
Her gaze jumped up at his croon. His eyes held the same lusty weight, as he wasted no time giving her a full body search.
He had a lot of nerve treating her this way! Then she reminded herself that he was treating Simona this way, that Simona invited just this sort of male attention. He would assume she liked it.
It was possible that she might come to like it.
“Hope I haven’t come at an inconvenient time.” He gestured to the cluster drawing. “You’re a lot busier than I had expected.”
“Nothing pressing.”
His eyebrows lowered. “Judy already explained that you go out most nights.”
Krista was startled by the unexpected curve. “I don’t go out all that—”
“Early,” Judy inserted smoothly. “I tried to make that clear to him,” she told Krista.
He openly struggled to suppress his annoyance. “I assumed the goodie basket made for two was for the two of us.”
Krista glanced at the basket sitting on a dining room chair. That certainly had been the Simona team’s intention. The aunts frequently hand-packed goodie baskets for peace offerings and romantic encounters. Beverly supplied comfort food; Rachel, alcohol and greenery.
He gestured to the bottle of wine. “This merlot is particularly nice.”
Rachel’s favorite, Krista noted wryly. The trap was a good one, and no graceful escape that she could see. “You are right about my intentions, of course,” she felt compelled to say. “Care to sit in the living room for a chat?”
“I believe I’ll just go check on dinner,” Judy said. “Of course you’ll stay, Michael.”
“Something smells great,” he called after Judy. “I understand Krista is a great cook.”
Judy gaped, but recovered enough to make a smooth exit.
Krista led him into the living room, aware of the sensual caress of the satin fabric against her skin. It made her feel like someone else, the sort of woman he believed her to be.
Michael watched her perch on the arm of a chair, then sat down on the nearest end of the sofa, setting the basket on the end table between them. “I also feel I must apologize for my criticism of your writing talents.”
She stared at him blankly. “Why?”
“Because of the lovely note you sent me, of course.” Sure enough, wedged between the block of cheddar and box of chocolates sat a white square envelope. A message. A trap. “I believe I’d like that glass of wine now,” she said in a bright rush.
Michael handled the uncorking expertly, filling the pair of wineglasses she picked out of the basket. He lifted high a glass of the rich red liquid. “To your thoughtful and generous offer.”
Her mind screamed in panic behind her frozen smile. Simona had made him an offer?
Somehow, she had to find out what sort of offer. Fortunately, she hit upon a way as he began to tilt his glass into hers for a clink. With the flick of a wrist she tipped her glass, managing to splash some merlot onto his beige knit pullover. She felt awful about it, and grateful as he jumped off the sofa before it could splash onto her cushions.
She was so very sorry. But desperate measures called for desperate action. “Oh dear, oh no.” She made all the right sounds, pushing him in the direction of the kitchen, calling out to Judy to ready a damp towel. As Judy appeared in the doorway to assess the damages, Krista plucked the envelope from the basket and waved it in the air so Judy would get the picture and stall him. Then she tore free the crisp white card inside.
Ah, the official Simona stationery.
My dear Mr. Collins:
I honestly tried to do a good deed today. Perhaps I didn’t deliver my message properly. I was too sexy. Hope you won’t sue. No matter what you decide, I am finished with the Simona schmooze, no more personal appearances like today’s fiasco. Believe me, I am tuned in and turned on to your dilemma. You are a dynamic man, too smart for me in some ways. Still, I maintain that I have some insight. The wrong wife could do you more harm than good at a high-pressure convention. I daresay, you need a wife like me at your side. I’d show you.
Yours,
Simona
She sat dumbfounded, holding the card in a loose grasp. The aunts were diabolical. They’d managed to cleverly lift a series of her remarks out of context to form this—this pandering piece of junk mail!
No wonder Michael had come zipping over. His ego had to be the size of a blimp right now.
As for the offer, was he seriously considering allowing her to play the role of his wife for the Decadent Delights crowd? With shaky fingers she returned the card to its envelope and jammed it down near the cheese.
“Taking back some of your favors?” a baritone voice asked.
Caught with her hand in the basket. “You can’t trust me,” she lilted.
He sat down on the sofa again and eyed the upturned envelope with suspicion. “You were handling your own note?”
“No. Yes. I—”
“Okay, what’s the game now? May as well tell me where we stand. My toast took all the color from your face. Not to mention its effect on your dexterity,” he added, touching the damp spot on his shirt. Judy had done a fairly good job removing the stain.
Before she could respond there was some clattering from the kitchen and Judy appeared in the adjoining dining room to gather up some belongings. “I believe I’ll skip our dinner,” she said, breezing in on them with the cluster sheet rolled in a tube. She patted Michael’s arm as she passed by him. “Good to meet you.”
“Yes. Thanks for the rescue.”
“Just get that shirt top cleaned properly.”
“Don’t forget your tote bag, Jude.” Krista walked her to the foyer.
“Ooh, Kris,” Judy enthused in a whisper, “he is delicious. Not at all the dud the aunts believe.”
“I know it.”
“Seems unusually bright, too, aside from his faith that yo
u can cook. What a harebrained idea!”
“That isn’t the only harebrained idea he has.”
“Oh?”
“He believes I’ve volunteered to play his wife!”
“Gee, for real?”
She squinted at her pal. “I imagine for the duration of the convention.”
“Still, gee.”
“What should I do? Say?”
Judy bit her lip. “This is a crossroads. You either have to bust the aunts’ game wide open or stand by their generous offer.”
Krista looked at her helplessly. “I am simply too stunned to think.”
She gave Krista a quick squeeze. “Talk it over with him at dinner. Just so you know, your kitchen is now a gourmet haven. I transferred your store lasagna from its aluminum pan to your glass cake pan, the bread from its sack to some foil I found folded in a drawer. Oh, I also prepared that premixed salad in a bag you had—put it in your popcorn bowl.”
“That salad was our lunch for tomorrow.”
“So bring one of those expired soup mixes from the back of your cupboard.”
Krista blew out a nervous breath. “Okay. Thanks. I’ll call when he leaves.”
“You bet you will. No matter how late.”
Krista found Michael had wandered into the kitchen and was peeking in the oven. “Looks just about ready,” she said over his stooped shoulder.
He closed the oven and straightened to full height, about six inches above her five-foot-six stature. Krista noted that he was beginning to show signs of wear, traces of vulnerability underneath his confident show of strength.
He’d brought wine along and now handed her a freshly filled glass. “You girls seemed to be having fun. Get a good laugh out of the lonely pastry mogul’s love life?”
“Certainly not. Judy and I aren’t in the habit of tramping all over men.”
“I agree, she doesn’t seem the man-killer type.”
The inference was that Krista was the type, but she had no defense. She was playing the role of a vamp. A part of her was repelled by the idea, but another part was intrigued by her ability to pull it off even this far.
Wedding Roulette Page 5