Don’t Call Me Sweetheart

by Jeanette Ward

  “Oh, Okay. Listen Christian,” she began, having trouble controlling the mischievous smile pulling on the corners of her mouth, “Lane McLaughlin is actually the kindest, gentlest soul you could ever hope to meet. She teaches Sunday school every week, feeds the homeless and rocks sick babies at the hospital in her spare time.”

  There was no hope for Tess, Whitney sighed. She was, quite simply, doomed to burn in hell.

  “I find I’m more inclined to believe Tess’ first description of your boss, Whitney. You have to admit that if she can write the way she does about some of life’s more pleasurable pursuits a person might assume she’s had more than her fair share of practice.”

  Well. Don’t you know every woman has an imagination, you pompous jackass, Whitney thought bristling, ready to defend her pen name’s personality but the waiter chose that particular moment to return and take their orders. While Tess and Christian were occupied she clutched her crystal goblet and took a large gulp of water, trying to calm her jumbled nerves.

  She had to admit that Christian was certainly everything Tess had implied when they had talked that morning. Whitney realized she hadn’t been warned about their charming companion on purpose and now, the conniving cupid who had masterminded this fiasco was positively reveling in the trouble she was causing.

  She was a dead woman.

  Whitney felt Christian’s eyes swing back to once again study her as the waiter departed and she squirmed uncomfortably. This friend of Tess’ wasn’t like any of the other men who managed to catch her eye. And that, she was quick to point out to no one in particular, was precisely the problem. Christian just wasn’t like other men. At all.

  That might explain why she was experiencing such wildly uncharacteristic thoughts. This entire scenario was probably just a wicked little dream conjured up by her lonely, long suppressed libido.

  Maybe it all boiled down to her imagination deciding some of her other, lesser used, parts would enjoy the attention of the consummate male centerfold and so it had conjured him up for her viewing pleasure. She would wake up soon enough and everything would be back to normal.

  Whitney met Christian’s steady gaze across the table and trembled. Centerfolds were something you looked at but they didn’t stare back with such compelling magnetism. Her breath quickened and once again she felt the color rising in her cheeks. If Christian was a dream and she was completely honest with herself, she didn’t really want to wake up.

  It took a moment to realize that Tess was tapping the back of her hand with the tines of her fork.

  “Helloooo! If you’re not too preoccupied in there I’d like to take a look at the manuscript that’s going to make us all sinfully rich.”

  “Oh-oh, of course,” Whitney stammered as she fumbled for the forgotten briefcase that had slipped unnoticed to the floor.

  “What’s the title of this little bombshell I’ve been hired to represent?” Christian asked as he reached to intercept the manuscript as it passed midway between Whitney and Tess.

  Whitney felt a burst of awareness race unchecked like an out-of-control prairie fire to every nerve in her body when his fingers glanced of hers. “The Banker’s Kiss,” she replied weakly.

  “How perfect,” Tess purred with a sideways glance at Christian, moving to allow the waiter room to set her salad on the table before her. “Whitney, did you know that Christian is really a very successful banker?”

  No, I guess you left out that little tidbit along with the news that our lunch guest would be someone I wouldn’t be able to tear my eyes from.

  “If he’s a banker, excuse me, a successful banker, why is he bothering to pose for the cover of a book?”

  Whitney almost addressed the question directly to Christian but at the last moment lost her nerve. It was unsettling to discover just how quickly this man’s presence could turn her usually dauntless demeanor into a disheveled mess of mixed-up emotions.

  “I suppose you could say his assets were inadequate for an unexpected need,” Tess laughed, answering for her newly hired cover model. Whitney seriously doubted that Christian Dade had ever found his assets inadequate for anything. “Actually,” Tess continued, “I’ve been trying for years to convince Christian that he could have a spectacular career modeling, so when he called last week to see if I was still of the same opinion there was only one answer I could give.”

  “Does that mean that you’re moonlighting, or have you given up your banking career?” Whitney finally ventured, determined to participate in the conversation like an adult, rather than a tongue-tied schoolgirl.

  “This is temporary, more like a stop along the way to some plans I’ve had for some time,” Christian replied, his words clipped and suddenly much more formal. A distant look clouded his dark eyes for a moment and Whitney was surprised to catch a glimpse of raw pain lurking in their depths before he could mask it. “To answer your question though, no, I don’t plan to ever return to my former profession.”

  “That means he’s completely at our disposal for a while,” Tess interjected, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively at Whitney. The look was returned with an open glare.

  “I’ve got connections and will try to line up more covers for you, Christian, to go along with some other projects I’ve got in mind,” the perky publicist went on, absently pushing a piece of lettuce around on her plate. “But between jobs you might like to take in a bit of the city.”

  The sly look Whitney intercepted from Tess set off warning bells. “Now that the new manuscript has been delivered, I’m sure Whitney will have lots of spare time on her hands. Come to think of it, Lane owes me a favor so I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if we borrowed Whitney and asked her to show you a good time for the next few days.”

  Whitney was horrified when Christian turned to her expectantly. No! She couldn’t!

  “I wouldn’t want to be an imposition,” Christian commented in that deep, husky voice that made her insides melt like ice cream on the Fourth of July. He gave her what she was sure must be one of his most charming smiles for added incentive. The kind of smile that usually made it easy for her to leave a man licking his wounds, sorry he had ever suggested she spend time alone with him. Where was the Whitney she counted on to make mincemeat out of overconfident Romeos like Christian Dade when she needed her?

  Whitney felt trapped. Her nerves were screaming for her to agree to anything this man suggested. Show him the city, show him a good time…show him the naughty tingling flesh encased beneath the scalloped edges of her lacy bra that was yearning for his touch. But even after a year her heart was still raw and bleeding from another’s man’s promises of good times. And the lies that had fallen so sweetly from his lips as he whispered to her of his love. She hadn’t been able to trust Jon then and she wouldn’t make the mistake of trusting this man now.

  She still carried the emotional scars accumulated learning that, for her, it was best to keep her emotions under lock and key. She wasn’t willing to open another Pandora’s Box for just another handsome face. Even if the owner was capable of making her heart thunder against the walls of her chest with the barest of glances.

  At the moment though, what else could she say other than to politely offer to accompany Christian. A tight smile graced her full lips and she really did try her best to sound sincere. “I’d be delighted to show you around, Mr. Dade. What would like to see first?”

  Whitney had no way of knowing Christian was busy envisioning a number of things he would like to see, both with her and on her and none of them involved tourist attractions. His reply was full of the type of undertones she had heard so many times before but had always been able to toss back with ease. “I’ve seen quite a bit that interests me already but I’m sure you have a much better idea of what a novice to New York would enjoy. Anything you suggest will be fine.” On impulse he added, “I had planned to take a carriage ride through Central Park with a beautiful woman one evening though. I wouldn’t feel like I’d been to New York unless I make time for th
at. What would you think of dinner and a ride tonight?”

  Central Park in the moonlight. With him? Her turbo-charged instincts were going wild trying to steer her away from one very tempting, very virile Christian Dade.

  She started to protest, “I don’t think—”

  Tess cut in and finished the sentence for her, “Tonight would work. Of course, Whitney, you’re right. You mentioned earlier that you already had plans but if I remember correctly you said tomorrow night would be just another boring evening spent watching TV with that cat of yours.”

  Whitney shot Tess a look that could kill before turning a saccharine smile Christian’s direction. “Tess is right. Tomorrow evening would work much better for me. Would that be all right?”

  “I can hardly wait,” Christian replied quietly and the glint of interest in his ebony perusal ensured Whitney that she would have a hard time waiting as well.

  “I’ll make it easy for both of you,” Tess said. Whitney braced herself since every time Tess had opened her mouth during the last hour had resulted in more embarrassment for her. “Since I need to meet Christian at the photo studio right after lunch I’ll swing by and bring Whitney into the city with me. That way you’ll both be together and ready for an evening of whatever.”

  Laying a slim hand across Christian’s tanned forearm Tess told him in a conspiratorial tone, “Whitney lives on Lane’s estate waaayout in the sticks. It would cost you a fortune in cab fare just to find the place so, you see, I’m really doing you a huge favor.”

  Whitney stared at Tess in disbelief. For whatever unfathomable, unforgivable reason, Tess had just served her to Christian like she was one of the tantalizing treats from the dessert cart passing by. She had been manipulated from the moment she picked up the phone that morning but for the life of her she couldn’t figure out why. Luckily she didn’t need to. Tess would tell her. Gladly. And she’d do it right now.

  Whitney turned to her long-time friend and prepared to do battle.

  “Tess, I’m going to the ladies’ room. Why don’t you join me?” The question didn’t sound remotely like an invitation to any one of the three.

  “Oh, no thanks,” Tess tried to decline but found her arm gripped in a very unladylike manner as Whitney passed behind her chair.

  “Oh,” Whitney said in her best imitation of Tess’ flip comment, “I’m afraid I’m just going to have to insist this time.”

  Christian watched the two of them disappear around a corner, a wide smile splitting his face for the first time in weeks. What he wouldn’t give to hear that conversation.

  Whitney waited until the door clicked shut before she let go of the tightly held constraint she had been maintaining on her temper.

  “Okay, you have exactly thirty seconds to tell me something that I might,just might, believe that will explain why I feel like I was the main course out there!” She made no attempt to disguise her annoyance as she stood tapping her foot to the beat of a furious staccato.

  “I haven’t the slightest notion what you’re talking about, Whitney,” Tess replied in a deliberately vague voice. She was the picture of wide-eyed innocence as she leaned toward the mirror and applied fresh lipstick.

  “Oh yes you do. You practically threw me to that wolf out there knowing full well how I feel about situations like this. I thought you were my friend.”

  “Christian’s such a beauuutiful beast though,” she countered, her eyes assuming a sultry, bedroom slant. “There aren’t many women who would mind being tossed in his direction.”

  “I’m one of the ones who would.” Whitney growled as she stepped closer and pinned Tess’ eyes with her own in the mirror’s reflection.

  “I just thought you might enjoy a little fun and excitement in your otherwise quiet little life.”

  Whitney winced inwardly. Only Tess could get by with talking to her that way. It might be true but Whitney didn’t want, or need, to be reminded of it. “Not this kind,” she argued, pacing back and forth like a caged tiger in the small, elegantly furnished room. “I’m not the least bit interested in dragging that man all over the city.”

  “Okay. Just tell him you’re really Lane McLaughlin then.”

  At Whitney’s puzzled look Tess continued, talking slowly as if she were speaking to someone with limited mental capabilities, “That way you could stay home. You could get that audition out of the way since Christian’s already indicated he was willing to prove his capabilities. Take my word for it, he’s definitely capable.”

  “Tess! You haven’t?”

  “Oh, good heavens no. That’s just what I’ve heard. And most of it was from him. Besides you only have to take one look at him to realize how perfectly delicious he is. You didn’t suddenly go blind did you?”

  It wouldn’t have mattered because even the blind and deaf could pick Christian out of a crowd.

  “That’s beside the point,” Whitney retorted, throwing her hands up in exasperation.

  “What exactly was the point?” Tess was back at it.

  “Discovering what you’re up to.”

  “That, my dear, would be absolutely pointless because I rarely know what I’m up to.” Tess’ blue eyes crinkled with laughter. “That’s why this friendship works so well. We’re such opposites. I’m a total ditz and you’re the hopeless damsel.”

  “That’s hope-filled damsel. But if I were a damsel, I would need to be rescued from a situation I don’t want to be in. And since the ditz got her into it, you’re expected to get her, er me, out.”

  Tess looked like she was having more fun than she had in years.

  “Tell you what, if you watch Christian’s preliminary shoot tomorrow and you really don’t want to go out for the evening, I’ll make up something that sounds halfway believable and get you out of it. Deal?”

  “No.” Whitney retorted stubbornly, crossing her arms below her breasts in a show of defiance. “I don’t want to go at all. So now what?”

  “I’ll just have to tell Christian that under the prim and proper exterior of Whitney Lane beats the savage heart of the world’s greatest romance goddess, Lane McLaughlin.”

  “You wouldn’t. Nobody’s supposed to know that. I could spill plenty of your dirty little secrets too you know.”

  “Mmmm, yes I suppose you could,” Tess conceded, rooting through her purse and extracting a bottle of perfume. “But collecting more would be so much fun. You should try it.”

  “If I go tomorrow, will you back off and leave me alone?” Whitney asked in exaggerated defeat. She had never been able to stay mad at Tess for long. Besides, she reasoned, in a studio full of people she would hardly be alone with Christian. There was no doubt in her mind that she would be home again, alone, well before dark.

  “I suppose I could try to control myself.”

  That would be the day.

  “Fine. Let’s just see if we can get through the rest of this meal in peace, shall we?”

  Chapter Four

  “Well, Gabbycat. Just what should a girl wear if she wants to look like a piece of a set?”

  Twenty-four hours after having her perfectly ordered life thrown into a tailspin, Whitney still found it hard to believe she had agreed to watch Christian shoot the cover of her new book. And while Tess hadn’t exactly lied when she had informed Christian that Whitney had nothing better to do today, even puttering around her huge, empty house would have been preferable to sitting in a tiny, uncomfortable chair, watching in silence, while a photographer and his staff grumbled about unnecessary people cluttering up the workplace. Of course, there was the inescapable fact that Christian would be there too.

  The intense trepidation turning her insides upside down did little to dispel the feeling of anticipation dancing simultaneously through her body at the thought of seeing Christian again, even though Whitney consciously made an effort to ignore it. Sensible was going to be her mode of operation for dealing with the afternoon ahead, she told herself sternly. Nothing more, nothing less.

  I
t had taken very little effort to convince herself on the drive home from lunch yesterday that she must have imagined the look of interest hovering in Christian’s eyes. For all she knew he looked at every woman that way for fun, strictly out of habit. It had probably meant nothing to him—she wished it hadn’t meant anything to her.

  Irritated that she seemed unable to focus her thoughts anywhere other than on Christian Dade, Whitney stripped off her white leggings and blue candy-striped chambray shirt, tossing them onto the mountainous pile of discarded clothes in the center of her bed she had begun accumulating nearly an hour ago. No matter what she pulled from the closet she was finding it impossible to settle on an outfit that pleased her.

  “See, kitten. That man is already causing more trouble than he could possibly be worth,” Whitney announced in exasperation to the tabby happily rolling in the rejected clothing. She turned to rummage through the clothes hanging neatly in the large, walk-in closet, this time choosing lightweight white linen slacks and a matching silk shell. A brilliant aquamarine summer jacket set off her features to perfection.

  With a critical eye Whitney gauged her reflection, still not pleased with the results. She was prepared to start all over when she heard the impatient honking of a car near the front of the house.

  “Oh, damn,” she swore softly, peeking out the window to make sure it was Tess. It was and for once in her life she was early, leaving no more time for changes. Whitney resigned herself to going the way she was, like it or not.

  “Who gives a fig what I look like anyway? Aren’t we supposed to be watching Christian drool over some little piece of fluff actress anyway?” Whitney directed the question at Gabbycat but the frisky feline was too busy attacking the thin straps of a lacy chemise to notice.

  The thought wasn’t particularly appealing and as Whitney paused for one last look in the mirror and to tuck a loose strand of hair into the French braid she had worked earlier, she experienced a peculiar tightness in her chest.

  “You’re being absurd, Whitney Alison Lane. Absolutely absurd.” Hurrying outside Whitney grinned to herself. She was actually getting knock-kneed about a man she barely knew. She’d have to watch it or pretty soon she’d believe some of her own romantic notions.