My Favorite Mistake

by Stephanie Bond

  “Apparently so,” he said quietly, then turned the key in the ignition, bringing the engine to life. He turned his dark eyes in my direction. “But then I usually know what I want when I see it.”

  The moisture evaporated from my mouth. I couldn’t seem to drag my gaze from his. I was mired in confusion, tongue-tied. Was he referring to me? To our marriage? Did I want to know?

  “Better buckle up,” he said breezily.

  Glad to have something to keep my hands occupied, I tugged on the buckle. But the strap was stuck from never being used.

  “Here, let me,” he said, and leaned across the seat, brushing past me to grab the strap, trapping me between the seat and his big body. His face was mere inches from mine, the scent of strong, musky soap tickling my nose. I squirmed, which, to my dismay, resulted in rubbing my chest against his. My cheeks burned as if we were naked, instead of wearing heavy coats. Just having him in proximity was wreaking havoc with my self-control.

  A lazy smile lifted Redford’s mouth as he pulled the belt over my shoulder and clicked it home next to my thigh. “I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you on my watch.”

  I gave him a watery smile of thanks and prayed that he couldn’t tell how much he was getting to me. I wasn’t in the business of feeding the ego of married men. A glance at the gold band on his left hand was enough to boost my resolve.

  He turned on the heater, fastened his own seat belt, then goosed the engine a couple of times before pulling out of the lot. “Which way?”

  I looked around to get oriented, then pointed right. I waited until he had pulled into traffic before asking, “Redford, what was that all about back there?”

  “What do you mean?”

  I wet my lips. “Allowing that guy to think we were…married.”

  He studied the road, then made a rueful noise. “Jim and I knew each other when I returned from my leave in Las Vegas three years ago.” He shrugged. “Maybe it was wrong, but since you were with me, it just seemed easier to pretend than to explain that you and I were no longer…together.” He looked over at me. “I’m sorry if it embarrassed you.”

  Considering I hadn’t told Barry or my parents the complete truth either, I wasn’t exactly in a position to judge. “No, it’s…okay.” Antsy, I glanced at my watch.

  “Am I making you late?” he asked.

  “No. I told my boss I’d be taking an extended lunch,” (actually, I had told him I was on the trail of a big account), “but I’ll need to get back soon.”

  “Do you still have time to eat?”

  I wasn’t the slightest bit hungry, but with some alarm I realized I wasn’t yet ready to leave Redford’s company. We had so much to discuss, yet so many things I didn’t want to talk about. The audit. His family. My engagement. I guess deep down I knew that talking about those things would put an end to the flirtation that I was enjoying on some very base level.

  Plus, I realized in astonishment, it would also put an end to the impossible fantasy I had been harboring in the recesses of my mind: that someday Redford would come for me.

  The thought hit me so hard, I blinked back sudden moisture. I had discovered something about myself that I didn’t want to know. What part of myself had I been withholding from friends and potential lovers since I had returned from Vegas three years ago? What part of myself had I given to Redford…and would I ever get it back?

  “Earth to Denise.”

  I looked over at him. “What?”

  His smile was gentle. “I asked if you still have time to eat.”

  My throat constricted. “Yes, I have time to eat.”

  The sooner we got things out on the table, the better.

  The times we had made love on a table notwithstanding, of course.

  “Good,” he said. “Afterward I’ll drop you off at your office.”

  “No,” I said quickly, then gave a little laugh. “That’s not necessary—my office is close to the restaurant I had in mind.” A lie, but I couldn’t risk anyone seeing me being dropped off by a good-looking stranger driving a red monster truck. I wouldn’t want word getting back to Barry. My fiancé. The guy who was available and loved my mind. The guy with whom I had so much in common.

  Redford winked and slanted a sexy smile in my direction. “Whatever the lady wants.”

  I feigned fascination with a passing landmark to cover my traitorous internal reaction. Blast that devilish smile of his! As the interior of the truck warmed I exhaled slowly, settling into the leather seat, forcing myself to relax one muscle at a time. I wasn’t going to think about the days stretching before us—I was going to deal with Redford one hour at a time.

  But it’s over a hundred hours until he leaves, my mind whispered.

  I was in big trouble.

  9

  “TABLE FOR TWO?” the hostess of Rutabaga’s asked me, although she could barely take her eyes off Redford.

  “Yes,” I said, slightly irked. The man was like a tranquilizer dart.

  She checked a seating chart and smiled past my shoulder at Redford. “It’ll be just a few moments.”

  I smirked and stepped back into the knot of people who were also waiting for a table. Redford had removed his hat and was studying the dark, oaky decor, although not as closely as he was being studied by every female in the place…me included.

  To say that Redford stood out was an understatement—with his stark good looks, brawny build and Western-flavored clothing, he looked as if he’d just walked off a movie set. My mind flashed to the movie Crocodile Dundee, where a bushman visits Manhattan for the first time. Like the character in the movie, Redford seemed oblivious to the attention he attracted.

  “Looks like a nice place,” he offered. “Do you eat here often?”

  “Sometimes,” I lied.

  Actually, I’d chosen the eatery for its proximity to Redford’s hotel, its carnivorous menu, its tucked away location and its high, dark booths…not that I expected to see anyone I knew. For as long as I’d lived in New York, I could count the times I had actually run in to someone I knew—unless it was a regular haunt—on one hand.

  “Denise! Fancy meeting you here!”

  I froze, then turned to see Sam Long, Kenzie’s veterinarian husband, walking toward me holding a carryout bag. Sam taught at a clinic in the city three days a week to be close to Kenzie, who was holed up in Jar Hollow this week with morning sickness.

  I managed a smile. “Hi, Sam.”

  He gave me a quick hug. “Hey, congratulations on your engagement—Kenzie’s been talking about it all week.”

  I felt Redford’s gaze snap to me and I sensed him inch closer. For reasons I couldn’t fathom, I found myself wishing that Sam hadn’t said anything, although the subject was bound to come up sooner or later. And considering the inappropriate feelings that Redford had resurrected in me, sooner was better.

  “Thanks, Sam,” I murmured. “Congratulations to you on the baby.”

  A grin split his face. “Amazing, huh? I’m still trying to get used to the idea of being a father. I guess this is a big week for all of us.” He looked around. “Is Barry with you?”

  “Er, no,” I squeaked.

  “Traveling again? Well, he doesn’t deserve you,” Sam said cheerfully. “But then I married up, too.”

  Sam and Barry had never really hit it off, which had concerned me a little simply because I was so close to Kenzie and wanted us all to get along. But Kenzie had assured me that Sam was shy and didn’t normally warm up to people right away.

  Redford cleared his throat, and Sam looked back and forth between us, clearly puzzled.

  I inhaled deeply. “Sam Long, meet Redford DeMoss. Sam is married to one of my best friends, Kenzie, and Redford is…an old friend.”

  Realization dawned on Sam’s face. “Oh, right, Kenzie said something about your ex coming to town, some kind of tax business, right? Nice to meet you,” he said to Redford.

  Redford extended his hand. “Same here.”

  �
��You’re from Kentucky?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Know anything about horses?”

  Redford smiled and his stance eased. “A fair bit. You?”

  I watched in amazement as the two men fell into conversation like old buddies, throwing around horse terminology, each visibly excited to find a kindred spirit. Sam had specialized in equine research and lived on a farm in upstate New York where he ran a small-town veterinary practice.

  “I’m heading up to Valla Farms Sunday to check out a teaser stud,” Redford said.

  “That’s only about thirty miles from my place,” Sam said. “I’d be happy to go along and look him over for you.”

  “I’d be much obliged,” Redford said.

  “Denise, are you riding up, too?” Sam asked. “I know Kenzie would be thrilled to see you.”

  I shook my head. “I wasn’t planning to—”

  “Come with me,” Redford said, his voice husky…challenging.

  I swung my gaze up to meet his and saw something had clouded his eyes—disappointment? Determination? I was thoroughly confused. And intrigued.

  “Unless you have other plans,” he added mildly.

  Sam gave a little laugh. “I would consider it a personal favor, Denise. Kenzie could use some company.”

  Redford lifted one eyebrow in question, and I wavered. In the nearly one year since Kenzie had commuted to Jar Hollow on the weekends, I had never visited her home there. My excuse had always been that I didn’t have a car. But since Redford was going to be stopping there, it seemed ridiculous for me not to go. Besides, it might help to smooth things over with Kenzie.

  I gave a cautious little shrug. “Okay.”

  “Great,” Sam said. “I’ll let Kenzie know.” He gave Redford directions, then extended his hand again. “Nice to meet you, man. I think it’s great that the two of you can put the past behind you and still be friends.”

  Redford shook Sam’s hand and nodded. “See you Sunday.”

  “Your table is ready,” the nearly giddy hostess announced to Redford.

  With my tongue in my cheek, I followed her to a booth. Redford walked just behind me, his hand hovering at my waist. He helped me out of my coat, casting a lingering glance at my engagement ring when I removed my gloves to stuff them in the pockets. Then he removed his own coat and hat and hung them on a nearby rack. I watched him, guiltily stealing a glance at the way his jeans hugged his lean hips from behind, the way the muscles in his back played beneath his shirt. The man could turn the most simple movements into sexy athleticism.

  I realized my mouth was watering, and not from the aroma of steak in the air. I pinched my thigh to derail my wayward thoughts and had conjured up a casual smile by the time he returned to slide into the booth, sitting opposite me. A waitress showed up to take our drinks order, then left us alone in an awkward, tense silence.

  “Your friend’s husband seems like a nice guy,” Redford offered.

  “He is,” I agreed.

  “And you’re engaged to be married.”

  I blinked, then lifted my chin. “As a matter of fact, I am.”

  He reached over and picked up my left hand to study the engagement ring Barry had given me. The callused tips of his fingers brushed my sensitive palm, sending waves of awareness shooting up my arm. It was all I could do not to pull my hand back.

  He rubbed his thumb over the large stone. “Wow. Impressive.”

  With some effort, I found my voice. “Thank you.”

  “It looks flawless. And it’s much bigger than the one I would have given you,” he said, nodding.

  His grandmother’s ring. He had promised to get it from his family safe and bring it with him on his next leave. I flushed, feeling shallow, and pulled my tingling hand from his. Self-consciously, I put my left hand in my lap and fingered the hem of my napkin.

  He picked up the menu. “So, how long have you been engaged?” His voice was tinged with…anger? Impossible.

  I picked up my menu. “Not long.”

  “Did I hear Sam say a week?”

  I frowned. “Why the inquisition, Redford?”

  He shrugged, still perusing the menu. “Because when I asked you on the phone if you’d gotten remarried, you said you hadn’t.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “I haven’t.”

  “And that you live alone.”

  “I do. Redford, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were…irritated that I’ve moved on with my life.”

  He glanced up at me, his mouth set in a straight line.

  “B-but that would be ridiculous,” I stammered. “B-because you’re married with a family.”

  “Excuse me?” He dropped his menu.

  “Well, aren’t you?”

  “No! What on earth gave you that idea?”

  I dropped my menu. “Because you said…on the phone…that you were in Versailles…because your girls were there.”

  His face crumpled in laughter. “I meant my nieces.” His eyes twinkled. “And my mares.”

  My pulse raced wildly. I was at a loss for words, until my gaze rested on his left hand. I pointed at the irrefutable evidence. “What about your wedding ring?”

  He looked down. “Oh. That.”

  “Yeah…that.”

  He slid it off his finger and pushed it across the table toward me. “It’s the one you gave me, Denise.”

  I stared at the plain gold band as if it were booby-trapped. My mind reeled. “You kept your ring?” Didn’t you? my conscience whispered.

  “I put it in storage and just never got around to doing anything with it. I thought you might want it back to, you know, melt down into a nugget or something.”

  “A nugget?”

  “Isn’t that the fashionable thing to do with wedding rings once the marriage is over? Make a nugget pendant out of the ring?”

  I shook my head. “I have no idea.”

  “Some of my Marine buddies who were married more than once just kept adding to theirs.” He laughed. “One guy’s nugget got so big, he had a belt buckle made out of it.”

  I pursed my mouth. “Impressive.” And it reinforced the information reported in the newspaper article that had prompted me to file for the annulment—soldiers liked to get married.

  He sobered and cleared his throat. “You can take it. Sell it if you like.”

  Glinting under the light of the pendant fixture that hung over the table, the plain band of gold looked new. The large circumference of the ring reminded me of how difficult it had been to find a band to fit Redford’s thick finger…the man had large hands. Hands that knew how to do indescribable things to me. With great effort, I brought my mind back to the present.

  “You sent my ring back with the annulment papers,” I murmured.

  “I figured you could sell it to help pay the legal fees.”

  I pressed my lips together and nodded, unable to admit that I had kept the ring…and not just because I’d forgotten about it.

  He picked up his ring and extended it toward me. “Do you want it?”

  I swallowed and shook my head.

  He nodded matter-of-factly, then tucked the ring into his shirt pocket, where it pushed against the polished cotton. The rounded neck of a snowy white T-shirt peeked just above the top button of his khaki-colored shirt…under his jeans he would be wearing equally white boxer shorts. The elastic waistband would ride just below a tiny mole on his left hip. My mind seemed determined to delay processing Redford’s bombshell of a revelation.

  “So,” I said slowly, “you’re…not…married?”

  He held my gaze. “Nope. But you’re engaged.”

  “Right.”

  His dark eyes were unreadable, his expression still. My emotions ran the gamut from nervous to miffed to flattered to worried. I’d agreed to spend time with Redford because I’d thought he was married and it seemed…safe. Now, I wasn’t so sure.

  The waitress came to leave our drinks—water for me, sweet iced tea for Redford—and to
take our orders. My stomach was in such turmoil, I couldn’t conceive of eating, but I ordered soup to appear normal. Conversely, Redford ordered a porterhouse steak, baked potato, mixed vegetables and a chef’s salad with extra cheese.

  When the waitress left, he rested his elbows on the table. “So…who’s the lucky guy?”

  I took a drink of water from my glass. “His name is Barry Copeland. He’s a television producer.”

  He nodded. “Sounds exciting. How long have you known him?”

  “A couple of years.”

  He gave a little smile. “I guess that’s the proper amount of time to know someone before you get married.”

  I nodded. “I…suppose so.”

  “Have you set a date for the wedding?”

  “No.”

  “Are you going to do it up right this time with a fancy dress and lots of attendants?”

  I squirmed, thinking about that darned dress hanging in my closet. “We haven’t discussed it, really.”

  “I heard you tell Sam that your boyfriend was out of town.”

  “That’s right. He’s in L.A. for a few days.”

  He pressed his lips together. “He doesn’t know that I’m here, does he?”

  I shifted in my seat and tried to look indignant. “What makes you think that?”

  “Because no man in his right mind would leave town while his fiancée plays hostess to her ex-husband.”

  “Redford, you’re not my ex-husband,” I said lightly.

  “Oh, right—the annulment.” He leaned back in the booth and pulled on his chin. “A signed piece of paper that says nothing happened between us doesn’t make it so. I was there, Denise…something happened.”

  Beneath the table, I had frayed the end of the napkin with my frantic picking. “That was a long time ago, Redford. I was…different.”

  His dark eyebrows lifted. “Different? Different how?”

  A flush climbed my throat and heated my face inch by inch. I realized that I needed to be blunt for my own salvation. I leaned forward for the sake of discretion and chose my words carefully. “People sometimes do strange things when they’re in a place where they don’t know anyone. I’m not the woman that you knew in Las Vegas…that was…temporary.”