Imagine, a male actually thought her a threat to mankind!
Suddenly, the room was hot. Whether it was the force of the oven, the potency of the wine or a blend of their own desperation was uncertain.
“I believe we were discussing your proposition,” he declared coolly.
Krista sensed there would never be a better time to set him straight about the force behind Simona, while she was pumped up with self-righteousness. Beverly and Rachel had no right to send him that note without her permission. Theirs had always been a collaboration. This was coercion. This was out and out coercion! What was the wisest course of action?
She felt a frown of indecision settle upon her face. Michael’s voice grew slightly anxious. “I understood the note correctly, didn’t I? The offer of a wife to replace my fiancée at the convention?”
“That’s how it reads,” she hedged.
There was no mistaking the joy in his expression. Grateful words spilled from his mouth. “Let me say up front that it was extraordinarily kind of you to even consider playing the role. Also, I’d like to apologize for my behavior this morning. Maybe if I hadn’t been so hot-tempered, you would’ve been comfortable making this suggestion right off the bat. But on the other hand,” he relented rather sourly, “I didn’t immediately see you as any sort of solution maker, probably wouldn’t have given your offer the chance it deserved.”
“You are on the way to wrecking this all over again,” she warned.
“I don’t mean to insult you. All I mean to say is that once I calmed down, I realized this is mighty decent of you. When you didn’t care for my solution you went to work and came up with one of your own. Even if it is under the threat of a lawsuit and it is only a temporary fix to my relationship loss, it’s a nice and thoughtful idea.”
Yes, those busy-bee aunts of hers had been quite busy.
He went on with gusto. “I realize there’s little in it for you. There is the free trip to Vegas. And I will be off your back—and the newspaper’s—permanently. Still, it has to be an inconvenience, taking vacation unexpectedly. All things considered, I’ll make things as easy as possible.”
A whole week away from her career. Krista hadn’t considered how that would affect her. She didn’t take time off as a rule. At least, never more than a day or two in a row. Why, her job was the centerpiece of her whole life. Her days revolved around any number of projects.
“There will be a level of intimacy involved,” he continued. “You and I, virtual strangers, sharing a suite of rooms at the Imperial Majestic.”
“We will be sharing a suite?” she gasped. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea, after all,” she said slowly. “Simona—I can be too darn impulsive for my own good sometimes.”
He merely smiled, unfazed. “Even for a live wire like you, I imagine this is a stretch. But believe me, I’ll make every effort to give you space and privacy when we’re not on display at convention functions. All the convention suites are large. With two separate bedrooms spaced far apart,” he assured, spreading his arms wide.
Krista doubted the bedrooms were that far apart, but she got the message, he wouldn’t be hitting on her. With professional acumen he was off on a fresh campaign to persuade, shame and, lastly, commend the engagement-wrecking Simona. “To be perfectly honest,” he finally admitted, “I can’t imagine going along if our roles were reversed.”
“I would feel better if I knew really you,” she admitted.
“Though I am not the dud you first pegged me to be,” he assured, “neither am I a wolf. I run my affairs with smarts and confidence. I set a goal and get it done. With efficiency. Our arrangement will be handled the same way.”
She believed him. And again marveled at how similar they were. “How crazy this scheme must seem to a man like you,” she said.
“It’s best described as a crazy business necessity; a phrase that’s never applied to me before. But life is full of surprises.” He gave her a loopy grin. “So, Krista, do you agree to be my wife for the duration of the convention?”
His face was inches over hers now. It was a handsome face, with just a trace of bristle roughing up the jaw. Again she inhaled the rich spice scent of his skin. He was so strong, so masculine, so determined. So unlike the sort of semi-ambitious men she’d attracted since her hungry college days. Yes, pure, delicious hunger set Michael Collins apart from his thirtyish peers. He hadn’t lost that energy source so common in men ten years his junior. He was eager, intense, devoted. A potent blend when aged to perfection.
This could be the adventure of her life. If she had the guts for it.
“Well?” Grasping her arms, he gave her a gentle shake.
“I do,” she murmured dreamily. “I mean, yes!”
He gave her the businessman’s handshake, firm and sure. “Good deal. Let’s eat. I’m starved.”
Michael didn’t seem to notice that Krista was all thumbs in even the meal’s most basic preparation. Accustomed to handling food, he darted round the kitchen, removing the lasagna from the oven along with the bread, tossing the salad. Krista filled water glasses, amazed at Judy’s inventiveness to make the meal look home cooked. The strip of foil on the bread was a wrapper from some take-out place. And the glass pan, a gift from a client, was generally used to store stray pencils and rubber bands.
As they settled into chairs at opposite ends of the table, Krista demurely expressed doubt that she could represent herself as the sort of wife expected at his convention.
“Not as you are, of course!”
Certainly not the polite retort she had expected. Her fork clattered to her plate. “Excuse me?”
“After running wild your whole life, you’re hardly prepared to hold a candle to the ideal executive wife. But I will coach you personally. In no time you will be the image of perfection, everything Gerald Stewart or I could ever expect.”
Krista couldn’t help comparing his image of Mrs. Right with the robot she and Judy were concocting in their latest promo campaign. “This model wife image you have, is it just for Gerald Stewart’s sake or are you serious about it yourself?”
He hesitated, a forkful of salad greens poised in the air. “What do you mean?”
“It seems to me you are looking for an unusually cooperative mate.”
“All men prefer cooperative women.”
“Yes, but eventually they wake up in the morning and accept it was only a dream.”
He laughed. “Marriage is all about cooperation, of course.”
“Give and take on both sides, though.”
“True. But I have every right to put a personal spin on my own expectations. My dream mate is someone willing to support my business.”
“But what if your wife has a solid career of her own?”
He was dubious. “All the serious career women I’ve dated have proven way too busy to even consider my feelings, much less marriage.”
“There are a few out there who aren’t complete monsters.”
“Sure, but what are the odds of a busy man like me meeting one? No, after several years at the hunt, I have my sights set exclusively on a woman looking to share my dream.”
“Happily ever after as Mrs. Decadent Delights?”
“Exactly! I know you’re being sarcastic, but such arrangements can be very happy. Take for instance my friends the Larkins, Allan and Norah.”
“The mentors from Chicago.”
“Right. Allan had a dream and Norah respected that dream, made it her dream, too. Allan’s a lucky man, let me tell ya.”
“Is Norah satisfied?”
“Definitely. She loves her role as much as Allan loves her.”
“So tell me the truth, did you ever consider Irritated In Illinois this sort of dream material underneath her party girl exterior, or were you just that desperate to show up at that convention with somebody?”
“I originally had high hopes. She disliked her clerical job, seemed open to a new venture. And she had the social skills to handle all
the public contact. With customers to wait on, events, charity functions and employee programs to organize, her fear of loneliness was ridiculous. And if ever she wanted to hold my hand, I’d have been right there waiting across a doughnut display case.” His features narrowed as he eyed Krista across the table. “But rather than give me a chance to sell myself, she cried to you. And chop! Off came my head. In print. For the amusement of millions.”
She flinched as his hand chopped the table. “For your own sake, don’t you think you should forget about Irritated In Illinois? Move on?”
“You’ve left me no choice, have you.”
Properly shut down, Krista leaned back in her seat and busied herself with her pasta.
The silence wore on. Finally he sighed deeply, staring across the table. “Truth is, I do want to move on. I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, as it might weaken my case for a lawsuit, but I’m relieved you didn’t call my fiancée today. I cooled down after our talk and realized any woman who couldn’t confide her troubles to me isn’t bound to make a good match. No matter how sincere I might have been, no matter how hard I might have tried to build a fulfilling marriage, it amounts to nothing without communication.”
“You can trust me on this, Michael,” she said warmly, “your mate will come along one of these days, by surprise, with an explosion of chemistry.”
“I doubt it. My recent mistake was made just that way. I fell into trouble because I was desperate. All that’s about to change, though. No more nightclubs or blind dates for me.” He stared off into space. “I see my girl, walking through the door of my shop one day, looking around and spotting me. Our eyes will lock, we will talk. She will show an immediate and avid interest in the shop. She will be glad to join my team.”
She tipped her water glass at him. “Happy hunting,” she said drolly.
“I happen to think a lot of women might very well find my master plan quite appealing.”
“So they might,” she relented, though she herself gave it a cool zero on the marriage meter. She was so accustomed to leading the charge as he did, to calling the shots, pouring all her energies into her business, that she viewed his dream as one of antiquated autocracy.
Krista also couldn’t help noting that the issue of love had never come up, not at the newspaper, not even now as he realigned his goals. How sad, as love was the four-letter word that made the world go round. Granted, she wasn’t setting the singles world on fire herself. She rarely took a date seriously these days, her biggest agony of late being whether to replace Bigtime Promotion’s photocopier. But she was wise enough to know love was a necessity for the long haul.
She couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to ultimately sweep Michael off his feet. To be the one who opened his eyes to the joys of love. She could only imagine how he would react to such a discovery, imagine sharing his joy, amazement and abandonment.
But it was only self-torture to consider Michael a possibility. His Antiquated Autocracy Plan assured he would marry blindly and stupidly.
Even Ms. Big didn’t expect her big romance to fall that neatly into line.
Chapter Five
Michael returned to his hotel room to find the red button on his phone flashing a message. The voice mail proved to be from Allan Larkin, his friend and mentor, presently stationed in Las Vegas—Gerald Stewart territory.
“Hello there, Mikey. Just got home from the shop. Norah tells me you called from Minnesota this afternoon with some nonsense about maybe skipping the convention. What’s that all about? And what are you doing in Minneapolis? Call, no matter how late.”
Michael sat on the edge of the bed and dialed the Larkins’ familiar number.
“Hey, Allan! Yeah, it’s me. I’m fine, really. No, I’ll be coming, after all. Just had a touch of the flu or something. But I’m feeling better already. Can’t you guess why I’m in the Twin Cities? It’s where my fiancée lives! No, her name’s not Colleen. You’re confusing my girlfriends. Her name is Krista Mattson. Can’t wait for you and Norah to meet her. No, haven’t known her long. Of course she’s interested in the business. A lot like Norah.” Feeling guilty over the first lies he’d ever told Allan, he winced. “Of course, we know there is only one Norah. Yes, I’ll see you in a few days. Kiss her for me. Bye now.”
With a shaky breath, he replaced the receiver on its cradle. Hopefully he hadn’t overplayed his hand. But Allan would expect his fiancée to be the supportive kind. Michael had never kept secret his admiration for the way Norah supported Allan’s career, putting herself wholeheartedly into first his Chicago shop, and then his Vegas branch. He’d been barely sixteen when he was hired on by Allan as an apprentice baker. Allan and Norah had changed his life with their support and approval. For the first time in his life he’d felt wanted, needed, important.
Now, on top of the stress of the contest, he desperately wanted the Larkins to like Krista. Even if it were only for a matter of days. Certainly they’d eventually hear of their breakup, but he wanted his mentors to admire his choice in a wife just the same.
No, the larger-than-life Simona was nothing like the simple soul Norah, as he’d claimed. But she could pass inspection with a little direction. Dropping the Says from her title was his first order of business. If she cut back on the chatter, it would go a long way toward clinching the charade. There was a lot to be said for keeping quiet; it left people open to assume the best in you.
But how could he possibly hope to shush a woman who actually offered up opinions for a living? Inflammatory opinions. Impulsive opinions. Downright rotten opinions! The sort of opinions that had started his troubles in the first place.
Indulging in this sort of panic attack wasn’t going to help, he realized. He needed to approach the task—transforming Simona into a subdued lady worthy of the Decadent Delights family—as a business venture. In her favor, she hadn’t seemed quite as overbearing at home tonight, probably because she was tired. She’d be back in form for the convention, no doubt. He was set to return to Chicago tomorrow to get ready for the trip, and then it was back here to Minneapolis on Friday to spend a single day preparing her for her role. The next week was bound to be the craziest of his life.
Later, as he drifted off to sleep, Michael tried to imagine Krista the proper lady, subdued and polite, dressed in a two-piece suit. But no matter how hard he tried, his mind held fast to the image of her in that little red robe and slippers, shimmering with sheer indolence.
The image was a guilty pleasure, without a doubt—one he could not afford right now. He was busy. Upwardly mobile. There was no place in his life for a reckless nymph. How ironic that just such a woman was to be his savior. She was wrong for him in every conceivable way. Still, there was an intriguing buzz between them that he’d never experienced before.
KRISTA GAVE HER BOTTOM DESK DRAWER a thump closed as her aunts entered her inner office at Bigtime Promotions the following morning. “I am not speaking to you.”
“That’s silly.
“Especially at a time like this.”
Krista straightened in her chair and surveyed the pair: Beverly, her plump face alive with anticipation; Rachel, her mascara-coated eyes dewy behind a lacy kerchief.
“We just got the wonderful news from Bob,” Rachel gushed. “Michael Collins called him first thing this morning all cheery and nice. Mapped out your plans, first-class all the way, it seems. Imagine, our little girl, on the way to Las Vegas. It’s a dream, a lifelong dream.”
Beverly inhaled tolerantly. “Not the way we would have preferred the good news, of course. Perhaps you meant to call us yourself but sprained your dialing finger.”
Krista balked. “You two are the ones who sprained something—between the ears! How could you move forward without my permission? I was floored when Michael showed up at my door last night with one of your custom baskets, that teasing mash note!”
“The basket was an innocent peace offering. As for the note, it was in your own words, dear,” Beverly claimed
self-righteously. “If you meant for your sentiments to be confidential, you should have said so.”
“The words may have been my own—”
“Oh, they were,” Rachel assured. “Beverly’s razor-sharp memory is quite a phenomenon. It was simply amazing the way she started spouting off all your remarks. I had to use my old waitress shorthand to get it down.”
“But you took my remarks out of context, completely changed my meaning!”
A tense silence fell over the room. The aunts had the grace to avert her gazes.
“All right,” Rachel whined in confession, “we pulled a fast one. But you would’ve said no to the whole neato deal.”
“Naturally! Michael and I are complete strangers who have no business playing house!” Indeed, this had been her first thought of the morning as she sat up in bed. How had she allowed herself to catch a satin slipper in such an intimate trap! But wearing a satin slipper in the first place had much to do with it, along with the satin robe, the wine consumption and the late hour. Things had gotten a little too cozy for clear thinking.
Here and now, in the light of day, her own duplicity in the masquerade stunned and terrified her.
“He’s safe enough,” Beverly stated urbanely. “Bob did a check on him. He’s every bit the straight shooter he seems, a hardworking man who’d much rather nibble on a doughnut than a dish like you. Even if he finds you attractive, he’d never jeopardize offending you during the charade with a come-on, risk losing your cooperation. As long as his business is on the front burner, you’re bound to be nothing more than a cute accessory on his arm.”
“Playing pretend can be such fun if you let go,” Rachel cooed. “Bob and I do it all time. Sometimes he’s the sheriff and I’m the dance hall girl. Or he’s the train robber and I’m the dance hall girl. Or he’s the drifter and I’m—”
Beverly cut in sharply. “That is more than we want to know, Miss Kitty. Though,” she added with a stroke to her fleshy chins, “it does explain some rather strange snippets of talk I overheard one night last week.”
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