The Perfect Proposal

by Rhonda Nelson

  “I’m getting tired,” Annie said softly. “Are you about ready to leave yet?”

  Mitch nodded. “I think we’ve fulfilled our obligation to Les.” Mitch drew away and threaded his fingers through hers, then tugged her from the dance floor. “Let’s go say goodnight, then we’ll go home.”

  Home? Mitch marveled at the slip of the tongue. Had he actually started to think of the little cottage as home? Or was anywhere with Annie home now? The disturbing question rang through Mitch’s reeling mind. Shaking his head as though to clear it, Mitch located Les and made a bee-line for him. Apparently Annie had chosen the right time for them to make their escape, because Les was attempting to take the microphone away from the singer and lead the festivities himself.

  “See here,” Les boomed at the band. “You boys know Sweet Home Alabama?”

  Mitch silently shuddered to think what the eccentric little meat magnate would do to the timeless rock-n-roll song. He smothered a chuckle, then cleared his throat to get Les’s attention.

  But Les began to belt the lyrics in a voice so off-key it was painful.

  “Les?” Mitch said.

  The older man started, then his round face broke into a broad grin. “Why, Mitch! Don’t tell me you can sing, too?”

  “Uh, no, sir. Annie and I just wanted to come and tell you good night. You have a fine family and we’ve enjoyed ourselves.”

  Les puffed up until the rhinestone buttons on his fitted vest almost popped. “Why, thank you! They are purty special. Les proudly beamed at the crowd he called family. “Sure you don’t want to stick around? We’re gonna start up this here karaoke machine and have a singalong.”

  Mitch’s lips twitched and beside him, Annie managed a strangled cough. “Uh, no, thank you, sir. I think we’ll pass.”

  “That’s too bad,” Les sighed. His happy gaze took on a shrewd quality. “Okay. Remember now, no work tomorrow. Y’all have a free day. I expect you to bowl me over with your fine ideas come Wednesday.” He grinned again. “You young folks have a good night.”

  Mitch and Annie shared a secret smile. They fully intended to.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Open up,” Mitch commanded softly.

  Annie sighed and did as she’d been told. Who knew feeding someone—or being fed—could be such an erotic experience. The sweetly tart flavor of fresh strawberries tempted her palate even as Mitch’s hand smoothed over her thigh and made her tremble.

  Sunday had been a marathon of new experiences for Annie. Some more pleasurable than others, but all lessons of the senses. Some of the heart. She’d played the student, Mitch the teacher. And, oh, what a consummate instructor he’d turned out to be.

  Now, as night descended outside, Annie wished that she could turn the clock back and make time stand still. At least for a little while longer.

  But she couldn’t. Despair cloaked her spirit, resulting in a defeated sigh. Morning would come whether she wanted it to or not. Besides, even though the feelings Mitch had awakened in her made her weak in the knees, other feelings lurked making her wary and almost anxious to call a halt to the fragile relationship they’d begun. Could something so wonderful be trusted? Annie wondered. For that matter, could Mitch?

  Truthfully, Annie did trust Mitch. She genuinely liked him. More than liked him. Another stronger emotion she didn’t dare label had imprinted itself on her heart and it had Mitch’s name in bold italic written all over it. Before Annie could contemplate that particular sentiment, her sense of self-preservation told her not to be so damned sentimental about a mere fling.

  Inwardly, Annie sighed. Still, Mitch was smart and funny and sensual and capable…A frown lined her brow as she realized she was running out of adjectives. What exactly was it that Mitch possessed to make her so, well, so…needy? Annie didn’t understand it. She’d always been strong. So why was it that she wanted him to hold her, shoulder her burdens for a while and shower her with love until she almost melted with joy? She literally craved his touch and wondered sadly what she would do without it.

  Nevertheless, for all her misgivings about it, Annie also knew that the time they’d shared hadn’t left him unaffected. There had been several moments in the past thirty-six hours when she’d caught him looking at her with the most perplexed and tender expression. Mitch didn’t know what to make of all this either. That much was obvious and provided a little comfort.

  But Mitch might allow them to go on this way indefinitely because he had a confidence that Annie admittedly lacked. In that regard, Annie was a coward. She’d rather pull her bets than hedge them. At least this way if she lost, it would be her own doing and not someone else’s. Furthermore, when this contest was over, that would be the end of their personal and professional relationships. From the beginning she had ignored the possibility that her weekend of happiness might cost her…her heart.

  “Hey,” Mitch interrupted her woeful reflections. “Why the frown?

  Annie told herself it was now or never. But why did never sound so much better? “I was just thinking that is was almost time to go to bed.”

  Lips quirked into a sexy grin, Mitch circled her breast with his finger. “I must have really dazzled you, honey. That’s where we are.”

  Annie laughed despite herself. “You know what I mean.” She drew a deep breath to bolster her courage. “We have a big day tomorrow. T-time to start those campaigns.” She strove to sound chipper.

  Mitch stilled. Annie felt him withdraw from her, though he hadn’t moved an inch. Her mouth parched and tears rose in her throat. Swallowing, she forced them back.

  “Yes, I suppose we do,” Mitch replied at last. He searched her face, willing her to look at him. Annie couldn’t. If she did, she’d be lost, and then neither of them would win. Good grief, had anything ever been this hard?

  “I just thought it would be best if we, you know…” Her throat tightened. She couldn’t finish.

  “I know,” he said at last, his voice oddly thick. Mitch pressed an achingly soft kiss to her lips which seemed to say only good-bye, then calmly rose from the bed and exited the room.

  Silence descended and the blissful intimacy they had shared faded away, gradually replace by a chill so utterly desolate, Annie didn’t think she’d ever be warm again. Inside her chest, she felt her heart shatter, then fall unheeded into little bits about her weeping soul.

  Orphaned again.

  ***

  The old Annie was back, and in full force, Mitch noted grimly. From his vantage point on the sofa, he watched as she strode into the kitchen, splashed coffee in a cup, then retraced her path back to the office she claimed this morning, a cell phone at her ear. The fax screeched, grating on his nerves like fingernails down a chalk board.

  How could she do it? he wondered again, the way he’d wondered all damned night. How could she act as though this weekend had never happened? As though they’d never happened. When she’d made the announcement last night, Mitch had been stunned, then hurt. More than hurt. The initial dread he’d felt when Annie had pulled away from him couldn’t adequately be named. Then, like every good male who was adept at avoiding issues of the heart, he’d funneled all that emotion into sentiment he could benefit from—anger.

  After all, how could he dwell on the ache in his chest when he was working up a good rage? Mitch pushed a hand through his hair and sighed wearily. He only hoped his fury could sustain him long enough to get this damned contest over with, then go back to Atlanta and lick his wounds in private. And, though he was loathe to admit it, Annie Witherspoon had wounded him deeply. Somehow over the past forty-eight hours, Annie had gone from being a thorn in his side, to a thorn in his heart.

  Nevertheless, he’d come to another surprising conclusion during the night as well. One that made Mitch secretly wonder if he needed to seek psychiatric help. While Annie had disappointed him and substantially bruised his pride, Mitch was amazed to find that he didn’t have it in him to break her heart. Losing her chance to head Hightower Advertisin
g would undoubtedly render Annie the final bow in a life that had been one hard knock after another. He’d wrestled with the decision all night. Cursed himself for a fool, cursed her; cursed his luck.

  But when he’d weighed all the alternatives, simply throwing the campaign had seemed like the only choice he could live with. Hightower would still be his, even if didn’t personally run it. If she didn’t get the CEO position, Mitch knew Annie would leave, and then she’d have nothing. How could he leave her with nothing, when he suddenly had the overwhelming urge to give her everything? Including his heart.

  Mind made up, Mitch proceeded to put together a campaign that would indeed bowl Les over—but not in a good way.

  Looking more bewildered than usual, Les followed Annie out of his office on Wednesday and smiled hesitantly at her. “I’ll be in touch, Annie. That was quite a…” The little cowboy frowned, seemingly at an uncharacteristic loss for words. “That was something,” Les boomed at last. “Mitch,” Les told him. “I’ve got to make a call, then I’ll see you.”

  Mitch nodded grimly. An uncomfortable silence ensued as Les retreated to his office. Mitch was reluctant to look at Annie, but couldn’t help himself. Dressed in a beige silk suit, hair arranged in a sophisticated up-do, she looked very much like an up-and-coming executive. Only the small lines of worry at her eyes and the drawn look of her otherwise beautiful lips gave away how she really felt. The last couple of days living in silence had taken their toll on Annie as well. She looked ready to break.

  “How’d it go?” Mitch forced himself to ask, literally aching for her.

  The smile she’d managed for Les wavered, then turned unnaturally bright. She clutched her briefcase until her knuckles whitened. “Well enough, I think. I’m certain that I did what I came here to do.”

  Mitch almost wanted to applaud her spunk. He nodded, his throat constricting. “I’m glad,” he said sincerely.

  Evidently believing him, Annie’s eyes softened for a moment. For a split second, an undisguised longing glowed in her expression, making Mitch’s chest tighten. “Thank you,” she murmured. She ducked his head, then looked at him and gestured awkwardly toward Les’s door. Despair radiated from her stiff form. “Good luck.” With that, Annie squared her shoulders and walked away. Out of his life forever.

  “I’m ready when you are,” Les announced from the doorway. “Come on in here boy, and dazzle me! Humph. I’m ready to be dazzled,” he mumbled under his breath, giving Mitch a brief pause.

  Resigned to his fate, Mitch walked in and immediately launched into his pitiful pitch. When he was finished, he waited expectantly for Les’s reaction.

  Garbed in a turquoise outfit which put Mitch in mind of a color-blind peacock, Les sat behind the dining table he called a desk and gazed at Mitch with perplexed little eyes. Then, at last, he spoke. “That’s it?” he asked indignantly.

  Mitch nodded.

  Les rocked back in his chair until Mitch feared he would topple over. “Why, that’s the most ridiculous excuse for a campaign strategy I’ve ever heard in my life!” The older man boomed. He shook his head disbelievingly. “I tell ya, Mitch, I’m sorely disappointed. Is that all you can come up with?” Seemingly baffled, Les scratched his balding pate. “Honestly, I didn’t think there could be anything sorrier than Annie’s idea, but yours takes the prize. Another blasted picnic, with a guy dressed up like a giant hot dog actually grilling—and eating—his little hot dog cousins! That would make him a cannibal, don’t you see, and —”

  “I’m sorry.“ Mitch frowned as he interrupted the last part of Les’s tirade. “Annie pitched a picnic?” Mitch asked, suddenly suspicious.

  “Yep, she did,” Les confirmed, smacking his pudgy hands on the desk in consternation. “And after I told you both I didn’t want no blasted—pardon my French—picnic!”

  Mitch’s mind reeled. She’d tried to sell the picnic scenario? Knowing that Les had specifically requested they not use that angle? He frowned. But that didn’t make sense. Why would she have—

  She’d thrown it! Mitch’s heart nearly stopped for a moment. A peculiar feeling made his throat seem to close. Oh, Annie, Mitch thought, humbled and awed by her selflessness.

  “Why if I didn’t know any better,” Les remarked in a voice that was as shrewd as it was outraged, “I’d be inclined to think that neither of you wanted to develop this campaign.”

  Mitch lunged to his feet, not even bothering with his briefcase. “Les, we’ll have to continue this another time. I have to speak to Annie. You can, uh, look at this stuff while I’m gone. I’m sure we can work out something.”

  Les started. “What? Another time?” he sputtered. “You’ve been here for over a week preparing for this here golden opportunity and now you’re tellin’ me I have to wait?” he blustered.

  “That’s right, Les,” Mitch said, striding toward the door. “Something’s come up.”

  Les frowned thoughtfully. “Funny,” he mused. “That’s exactly what Annie said. She left for Atlanta as soon as she was finished with her presentation. I tried to talk her into sticking around for the barbecue, but —”

  Mitch’s hand stilled at the knob. “What?”

  “Annie said she had to get back to Atlanta. She left as soon as she finished that pitiful, uninspiring presentation of hers.” Les scowled in distaste. “Humph. She had a cartoon hot dog in mind,” he groused. “But it kind resembled my packing plant manager, Ed Morris.”

  When he had time, he would laugh about that, Mitch thought. But right now, time was of the essence. How could he take Annie into his arms and kiss, then tell her that he loved her if she’d boarded a plane back to Atlanta without him?

  Whoa! He loved her? Mitch’s he-man mentality balked at the singularly terrifying emotion.

  Admittedly, Mitch liked her. Annie was deliciously intelligent and had a great sense of humor. And she was prickly and vulnerable, not to mention all those little obsessive-compulsive tendencies he’d actually found endearing. Mitch felt his lips curl into a goofy grin. Annie was…Annie was…perfect for him, he realized suddenly. Mitch knew at that moment that he did indeed love Annie Witherspoon.

  There was only one problem. Could he make her love him?

  She’d been wrong. The day that she’d met Mitch hadn’t been the mother of all bad days. Today was. Annie blinked back tears as she mechanically tossed her personal possessions into a cardboard box. Why was it that her life could always be packed away in bags and boxes? Annie wondered, feeling an uncharacteristic wave of self-pity.

  Coming to the office right after she’d returned to Atlanta seemed like the best thing to do. Annie knew leaving would be a painful experience and hoped to do it quickly, if she could summon up the courage.

  Throwing the Winning Wiener campaign had used up most of what she had left. Still, Annie knew it was for the best. For Mitch, anyway, it not for her, and for some reason she didn’t care to explore, the idea of Mitch’s unhappiness had depressed her more than her own. Annie knew an important revelation lurked in that thought, but couldn’t bring herself to admit it.

  She couldn’t inflict any unhappiness on such an easygoing man.

  Truth be told, Annie supposed that was they she’d been drawn to Mitch in the first place. Where Annie was cynical, Mitch was optimistic. He laughed, loved and enjoyed life with a zeal that made Annie wonder why she’d always been so reluctant to try new things. Why she’d never given more thought to marrying and having a family of her own. A sigh seeped past her lips and tears pricked her eyes.

  She’d been a coward, that was why. She’d been so busy guarding her heart—her life—that she’d never considered that she might be missing something other than pain. Well, no more. Annie was through living life on the sidelines; she planned to join the game. True, she had lost her chance to head the company she worked for, but she had gained something more important—courage.

  Annie took a deep breath and gazed about her office through a haze of tears. She certainly would miss this p
lace, though. This office had been here home away from home. Her refuge. Brilliant inspiration had struck—

  “Hey, Mitch are congratulations in order yet?” someone called from down the hall, pulling Annie from her little trip down memory lane.

  “I’ll let you know in a minute,” he replied. Annie could hear the smile in his voice.

  Annie stilled and her heart beat faster. What was Mitch doing here? He and Les ought to be toasting his successful new campaign right about now. He shouldn’t be here. He should—

  Suddenly Mitch was in her office. His hair was mussed, his tie askew. He looked harried and happy and just plain good. He smiled at her and she melted. “Annie, we have to talk.”

  Annie repressed the urge to throw herself in his arms and firmed her resolve. “Don’t you know anything about the advertising business, Mitch? You aren’t supposed to ditch the client after an important presentation,” she pointed out.

  “Annie, that’s what I have to talk to you about —”

  “Look, Mitch,” Annie interrupted, stuffing things into her bag. “You got what you wanted. Can’t we just leave it at that?”

  “No.”

  Annie raised a questioning gaze to him. “No?”

  His eyes softened with tenderness and he stepped closer to her. Close enough to touch. “No. I didn’t get what I wanted.”

  “Les didn’t sign off on your campaign?” she asked, disturbed by the look of longing she read on Mitch’s face. In his eyes.

  Mitch’s lips tipped up into a half-grin and mischief shimmered in his blue gaze. “He apparently wasn’t any more impressed with my picnic idea than yours.”

  Annie’s brow puckered in confusion. “Picnic? But you weren’t supposed to —” She studied him for a moment. “You pitched a picnic campaign too?” Surely he hadn’t…

  Smiling, Mitch nodded and lessened the distanced between them another step. “Yes. Although your cartoon hot dog was an original touch.” Mitch hummed and stroked his jaw. “Wish I’d thought of that.”