“No—us. The two of us, plural, coming out of here together—we’re another story.”
Mike looked from her to the door. Julie followed his gaze. The door didn’t flinch. When Mike’s gaze swung back to her, Julie looked up at him and gave him a fatalistic, we’re-dead-meat look.
“They’re your friends. You know ‘em—so do you think they’ll do something to embarrass us…like applaud?”
Julie thought about that. “Oh, probably. I think at the very least they’ll also rent one of those airplanes that trail streamers with messages on them, like you see at football games. I can see the message now—Mike and Julie, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g. You know the rest.”
“Yeah.” He continued the schoolyard chant as if forced to. “First comes love, then comes marriage, and then comes Julie with the baby carriage.” He looked at her. “Right?”
She looked right back. “Wrong.”
He ran a hand over his mouth and shifted his weight. “Boy, this stinks. Why do we always end up in a rest room? I mean, Freud could probably fill ten volumes with this.”
Julie quirked up her mouth and nodded in resignation. “True. But speaking of volume, let’s go out and see why there’s no music for us to face.” She looped her arm through his, resting her hands on his solid forearm. “Shall we?”
Mike took in a deep breath and let it out in a long gust. “I want my mom.”
Julie shook her head while he unbolted the door and put his hand on the knob. “And speaking of moms, Mike, mine will not be amused. She thinks I’m a virgin because I’m not married. And my dad will most likely have his shotgun and a preacher already waiting for us—just on the other side of this door.”
Mike froze. “Could you possibly say or do anything more to make this moment harder or more awkward for me?”
Julie pretended to give his question serious thought. “No. That’s it. I’ve got it all out of my system now.”
“Thank God.” He turned the doorknob. And slowly squeaked open the door.
Only to reveal to their peering eyes, not the leering, cheering, knowing grins, hoots, marching bands, shotguns or preachers they expected, but total and absolute. emptiness. Out in the breeze way, there was no one but the two of them and a few security lights that someone had switched on.
Julie turned to Mike. There was no need for words. This was weird. She knew it, and he knew it. Mike took her hand as they walked to the glass-paned doors of the clubhouse and peered in. “Twilight Zone” emptiness. Had Rod Serling begun talking, Julie believed that neither one of them would have jumped.
Mike tried the doors. Locked. The room, though darkened, still held the cheerful litter of the party. “Okay, where are they? They’re not going to do something juvenile like jump out and say boo, are they?”
Julie looked through the clubhouse windows to the parking lot on the other side of the building. “I don’t think so. The cars are gone.”
Mike let go of her hand and turned to her. “Did we go through a time warp?”
Julie looked at her watch, and didn’t feel the least bit silly doing so. “No. We entered that rest room less than thirty minutes ago. My guess is we were heard—we know we were seen. Remember Gina? And everyone cleared out so we wouldn’t be embarrassed when we came out. Which is what we were. Right?”
“Oh, yeah, sure. Like you won’t be mortified on Monday. I can’t let you face that alone.”
Julie waved off his concern. “Don’t worry about it. Time will have passed by Monday. My friends will be happy for me, the perverts. As for the rest of them—hey, I’m their boss now.”
“That’s true. You’re probably right, but I still don’t like it. I don’t want you to feel like I abandoned you.”
Julie laughed up at him, even though his darned sense of honor gave her a warm, fuzzy feeling. “Abandoned me? Are you the same brave guy who wanted his mother not five minutes ago?”
“Would you please be sure to bring up my shortcomings every chance you get? But that’s another thing—where’s your mother?”
Julie shrugged. “Probably helping Dad load the shotgun while they wait for the preacher. You might want to leave for Boston right now and not come back.”
THE STEADY DRONE of the airplane’s engines as they cut through the air currents were reassuring and impersonal at the same time. Mike pushed back in his seat and adjusted the earphones that piped soothing music into his ears. He closed his eyes and laced his fingers over his abdomen. Thank you for half-empty flights. Because today he needed space.
Hell, after this trip he’d get all the space he needed. Mike pressed his hand against his roiling stomach. He hadn’t even called Caroline to tell her he was coming. Was he hoping she wouldn’t be around, and he wouldn’t have to hurt her? No, he had to hurt her. Because being with her-no, being without Julie—was killing him.
Being with Julie could kill him, too. Damn her for telling him to leave for Boston and not come back. He ripped out the earphones and set his seat upright. Great. Now he was ticked off again. In his mind, he saw himself walking Julie to her door last night to make sure she was safe. Man, this sense of duty was stamped into his genes, wasn’t it? Even when he was ready to choke someone, he was still the Upright Joe.
To hell with Julie. He wasn’t doing this for her. For once, he was doing something for himself. And it felt pretty damned good. Liberating, in fact. Was this how women felt when they’d ripped off their bras in the sixties? Like he’d ever know. But he knew Julie was right about one thing. He didn’t need to be involved with her or anyone else for a while, after ending it with Caroline. Julie’d said he needed time to himself. Time to himself. Yeah. That sounded good.
He picked up the earphones. Smiling smugly, he put them back in his ears and leaned back in his seat again. “Solitary Man.” Sing it, Neil Diamond. Me and you, buddy. Solitary men. Women—who needed them? But before the song was done, Mike laughed out loud. He opened his eyes to see the curious stares of two flight attendants. He shook his head and waved off their questioning looks.
He closed his eyes again, chuckling. Julie’s butt up in the air. Whenever he least expected it, there it was. Her naked butt up in the air that Sunday morning when she’d been looking for his boots and her entire family was there and he was stuck in that stupid bathroom.
A FEW HOURS LATER, Mike was in Boston. Thirty minutes later he was in the mansion-mausoleum-museum that served as the Wyndemere residence. And it was just him and Reginald at home. Mike stared at the slender, blond, elegant man seated in the probably antique-and-priceless chair on the other side of the probably antique-and-priceless little table that stood between them.
He’d bet Reginald knew the names for these chairs and that table. And probably knew their entire pedigree and history, or however furniture was graded that said it was too good for the average Joe. And another thing, how’d a guy get to be in his thirties, and still want to be called Reginald?
“We expect Miss Wyndemere back momentarily, Mr. DeAngelo.”
Mike turned his best FBI stare on the man. The officious little twerp was so prissy and refined that he made Mike feel like a big, muddy puppy who’d just soiled the carpet. “Who’s we, Reginald? Got a mouse in your pocket?”
Reginald breathed in audibly through his thin nostrils. “Hardly, Mr. DeAngelo.”
You got anything at all in your pockets, buddy? When the heavy ticking of the antique grandfather clock over in the far corner of the football-field-size room nearly provoked Mike to a mindless act of violence, he spoke up. “Where’d you say Caroline was?”
Reginald crossed his legs like a girl. Ouch. He then flipped open the appointment book in his lap. Mike watched as Reginald ran a long, perfectly manicured finger down a page. “Yes, here it is. She’s at a fitting for her.wedding gown.”
Mike’s stomach had the decency to do a guilty flop. Still, he managed to maintain a calm, smooth expression. But only until Reginald looked up at him and he caught a flash of naked emotion in t
he man’s eyes. Wait a minute. Reginald hated him. Why? The only thing between them was Caroline—son of a bitch! Intuition flashed—Reginald loved Caroline.
Well, what do you know? Sure, he and good old Reggie had their turf battles over her in the past when it came to him loading up her schedule when he knew Mike was flying in, but he’d never suspected this. And come to think of it, Caroline clung to every word this pantywaist said. Mike nearly smiled. Reginald Carston, I just might be making your day.
Suddenly Mike felt like a granter of fondest wishes. Until the butler—Jeeves or James or Jerome or.something with a J—announced that Miss Wyndemere was At Home and Would Be Receiving Guests Momentarily. To Mike, everyone around here spoke in capital letters. And made him feel he wasn’t good enough.
Or did he do that to himself? Hell, no, he didn’t. Why else would Miss Wyndemere’s fiancé be referred to as a guest? Well, to hell with them all. He was acting on his own behalf. Now and for always. That thought sustained him for the next few moments until Caroline swept into the room.
“Mike, darling! What a lovely surprise!”
Mike stood up. So did the impeccable Reginald. Mike watched the man’s face when Caroline, a delicate study in silk and the finest wools, swept past her personal assistant to embrace her intended. And thought he knew how the man felt—he’d probably have that same look on his face if he had to watch Julie run past him to get to some other guy.
Caroline pulled back to smile up at him and cup his face in her hands. Mike couldn’t shake the feeling that her happy surprise was just the tiniest bit forced. But maybe he was projecting that onto her, in light of his own guilt. Caroline turned to Reginald. “Reginald, was there some mix-up? Did I know Mike was coming today?”
Reginald stood there, his heart exposed to anyone with enough sense to see it. “No, Miss Wyndemere. This is a surprise visit. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll rearrange your appointments accordingly.”
Caroline stared at him for one second too long. Mike felt the load on his own heart lighten. She felt something for this guy. Good. “Thank you, Reginald. But wait.” She turned to Mike. “How long are you…can you stay, that is?”
No time like the present. “You’d better cancel everything, Caroline. For the whole weekend.”
She frowned. God, she was a lovely, elegant woman. And so wrong for him. Why couldn’t he see that before now? “All right,” she said slowly. “Mike, is something wrong? You look so grim.”
Mike’s gaze skittered from her face to Reginald’s. The man was standing absolutely still. And made no bones that he was staring. Mike gave a barely perceptible nod to Caroline’s assistant before shifting his attention back to his fiancée. He put his hands on her arms and rubbed them slowly. “Yeah, honey. Something’s wrong. We’ve got to talk.” He looked up to include Reginald. “Stick around, will you? Maybe in the next room or something?”
Fingers clutching whitely around the appointment calendar he held, Reginald moved only his eyes, sliding his gaze from Mike to his employer. “Miss Wyndemere?”
Caroline raised her chin a notch and put a hand to her throat, as if she were having trouble swallowing. But when she turned again to Reginald, her voice was steady. “If you would.”
Reginald inclined his head deferentially to her and then gave a curt nod to Mike, laying on him a plain man-to-man look that said, “If you hurt her, you’ll have to deal with me.” Mike pulled himself up, as if physically signaling his rising opinion of Caroline’s personal assistant. Mike held the man’s gaze until he turned and left the room, closing the massive double doors behind him.
With nothing left to do but get it over with, Mike looked down at Caroline. Her sweet doe eyes and full lips turned up to him. A warm rush of emotion claimed him. He really did care about her. And he hated like hell doing this, but he couldn’t shake the feeling he was correcting a wrong. “Why don’t we sit down, Caroline?”
She remained statue still, except for her entwined, twisting fingers. “If you wish.” She didn’t move.
Mike, his hands still on her arms, led her over to the ornate Victorian sofa that held court in front of the fireplace. Sitting next to her, Mike half turned, resting his hand along the carved wood of the sofa’s spine. It didn’t help his resolve any to see the tears already crowding her eyes. “Caroline, I’m so sorry, honey. I never thought I’d—”
“Fall in love with Julie?”
Her words even shocked the grandfather clock. At least, Mike couldn’t hear it ticking now. But then again, there was that roaring in his ears. “What?”
Caroline looked down. A tear splashed onto her hands in her lap. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Because of what you feel for Julie?”
Oh, boy. Now he felt like a dead rat in the punch bowl. He took her hand. It was so cold. Like the area around his heart. He let out his breath and spoke gently. “You picked up on that, huh?”
She looked up, even managing a watery smile. Mike tenderly rubbed her tears away with his thumb. She stopped his hand and squeezed it. “I’m not blind, Mike. Willful, spoiled, yes. But not blind.” She took a heaving breath and looked him right in the eye. “Does she love you?”
Mike pulled his hand from hers and straightened up, facing the chairs that he and Reginald had sat in moments ago. “I can’t speak for her. She’s mad at me for coming up here and hurting you. And she won’t talk about us—her and me—until I.” He cut his gaze over to her and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his denim-covered knees. “She won’t talk about us until I talk with you, and then I have to be on my own for a while. Something about her not wanting to be my Rebound Woman.”
Caroline surprised him with a laugh. He turned to look at her questioningly. “What?”
“I think you have met your match, Michael Edward DeAngelo.” Her smile was genuine, if sad. “I never was, you know—your match, I mean. You’re too strong for me. You’d devour me with your zest for life.and loving. I do love you, just as I love Aaron, but we’re all wrong for each other, aren’t we?”
Her chin quivering, she looked down. When she raised her head, there should have been a jeweled crown atop her blond hair. “It was such a madcap affair we had, wasn’t it? I’ve never experienced anything like it before. But what were we thinking, Mike?”
Never before had Mike loved Caroline more than he did at this moment. What a great lady she was. To be in a room with her was like basking in a royal presence. “We were thinking we loved each other, Caroline.”
She smiled again, despite the pain in her eyes. “I probably always will. But sometimes that’s just not enough to make a life together, is it?”
Mike chuckled at his own expense and shook his head, remembering Julie saying almost the same thing only last night. “No, I guess not. Women keep telling me it isn’t, at least.” He ran his gaze over the delicate features of her face. “You know you’re the best, don’t you, sweetheart?”
She gave a perky little shrug and then smiled, wiping at her tears. “Sure. Well, this certainly lets my tailor off the hook.”
Impulsively, Mike leaned back and put his arm around her. It was over. It was done. Caroline cuddled next to him, her slim hand on his chest. “Your tailor? What do you mean?”
“Well, the dress was positively hideous today. It didn’t hang right at all. I threw such a fit. Julie would have been proud of me.”
Mike ducked his chin and shifted his shoulder, forcing her to look up at him. “Julie?”
Caroline’s face was the dictionary picture of smugness. “Yes. She’s all spit and fire. I think my spunky little cousin would have been proud.”
Mike laughed out loud. “I know she would be.”
Caroline sat up abruptly. Mike’s hand went back to his lap. “Mike, if you marry Julie, we’ll still see each other occasionally. We’ll still be family, in some convoluted way. I’d like that. Would you? And I can still see Aaron. Say yes, please.”
Mike held up a hand. “Whoa! Yeah, that’s all fine with me. I j
ust have to get Julie to say yes to me.”
Caroline relaxed against the sofa’s back, keeping her gaze on him. “Oh, she will. It’s in the family blood to love you, you know.”
The moment stretched out. Mike looked down at his hands and then rubbed his nose, not knowing what to say next. Did he just get up and leave, or what?
“You know, Mike, I’ve been thinking. I’ve decided not to let you off the hook so easily, after all.”
Mike snapped to attention. “What do you mean?”
“When do you have to go home?”
“I’m picking up Aaron tomorrow afternoon in Atlanta. He’s at Tory’s parents’ place. She’s home from Holland and came to get Aaron for a week. She even met Julie.”
Caroline grinned. “Oh, I’ll bet that was amusing.”
Mike laughed. “You don’t know the half of it.”
“Well, then, it’s settled. You have until tomorrow afternoon. I want you to stay here and help me and Reginald deal with my parents and then undo all the wedding plans. There are scads of presents to be sent back, those damned invitations to be recalled, the church, the caterer, the poor tailor, the reception plans—all of it. I think you should share in that joy, don’t you?”
Mike groaned, and slumped forward in exaggerated surrender. Then he straightened up and ran his hands through his hair. “Send in my man Reginald. I think we’re going to make his day.”
Caroline stood up and took Mike’s hand to pull him to his feet. “I think we’re more likely to ruin his weekend. All that work he’s done on my wedding, and now it’s all for nothing. He’ll be livid.”
Mike put his arm around her shoulders and shepherded her toward the ornate double doors. This Caroline and Reginald situation was something he couldn’t wait to tell Julie—if she was still talking to him, that is. “Maybe not, Caroline. Maybe not.”
She looked up at him, the self-conscious grin on her face accenting the deepening pink of her cheeks. “Why, Mr. DeAngelo, whatever do you mean?”
A Man In Demand Page 14