My Phony Valentine

by Marie Ferrarella

  The trouble was, she caught herself thinking, his stock with her was already too high.

  He told her what she already instinctively knew. “No, but I believe in the credo myself.”

  “Good toys for good children.” The motto was written across the top of each box that housed a MacAffee Toy. Her smile was soft, gentle. “A bit outdated sounding for the fast-track children of the nineties, but the sentiment is timeless.”

  It felt right, sitting here, talking to her like this. Even though the topic was business, it felt more intimate than that. He raised a speculative brow. “Are you trying to butter me up?”

  Was that what he thought? She looked up into his eyes and decided that he was just teasing her. “No, I’m speaking the truth.”

  She had eyes, he thought, that a man could go wading in. Deep, fathomless, gorgeous eyes. It took him a moment to realize that she had said something, and another moment to replay it in his mind so he could respond.

  “I know. That’s why I’ve decided to go with you. Your company,” he amended, lest either of them misunderstand. He was talking business. But there was a part of him that really wanted to go with her. Somewhere dark and romantic. And isolated.

  There was something in his eyes that she found unsettling. Something that was reaching out to her on a far different level than the verbal one they were on.

  She was having trouble keeping her mind on the conversation. T.J. reminded herself that business was the only thing that mattered here and the only reason she was having a conversation with Christopher in the first place..

  “I’m flattered. Without even reviewing the rest of the campaign?”

  He had already looked over all the preliminary drawings and proposals before flying down to meet with her. And he had no corrections to offer. It was as if they were of one mind about the direction he wanted the ad campaigns to go. But he did want to hear what Theresa had to add, if anything.

  “Call it icing on the cake.” If he didn’t get off this sofa, he was going to reach out and kiss her again. Christopher got up. “I’d really like to get down to work right now.”

  She nodded, relieved that he didn’t try to kiss her again. And disappointed.

  “Your call.” She bit her lip. “Are you sure you’re feeling up to it?”

  The grin he gave in response to her question had color rushing to her cheeks. Yes, he’d proven that he was certainly over whatever had laid him low. No sick man could have kissed like that.

  Tactfully, he made no reference to their kiss. “After watching Mr. Duck Goes to the City, I think I’m ready for anything.”

  “Well, then,” she said breezily, rising to her feet, “let’s get to it, shall we?” She gestured him out of the room. Her den, where she did most of her work, was located at the rear of the house. “Cecilia,” T.J. called, glancing over her shoulder to see if Megan was still occupied. She was, but that could change at any moment.

  Within a minute, the housekeeper appeared, filling the hall with her presence.

  She’d been pretty once, Christopher thought, studying Cecilia’s profile as she walked by him. He’d go so far as to venture that she’d been a knockout. She was still a striking woman.

  He thought of Lester, his father’s chauffeur. Lester hadn’t been the same since his wife, Edith, had died. Edith had been a tall woman, though not as tall as Cecilia. He saw resemblance between the two women and wondered if Lester would be interested in meeting Cecilia.

  The thought stunned him. What the hell was coming over him? He’d never thought of matching people up before. It had to be this house. There was a warmth here that permeated everything. And Theresa, he realized, was its source.

  Cecilia let her eyes wash over Christopher approvingly before she looked at TJ. “You called?”

  T.J. nodded. “Would you mind watching Megan for a while, please? Mr. MacAffee and I have a little business to go over.”

  Cecilia lowered her voice as she walked into the room. “Yes, I know. I saw a glimpse of negotiations when I passed by earlier.”

  T.J. flushed. She let the comment go. Saying anything in her defense would only lead to further embarrassment. Her eyes darted toward Christopher’s face. Had he heard? He had and was apparently amused.

  That made one of them.

  “This way,” she muttered, leading the way to the den.

  IT WAS A SMALL ROOM that caught a corner of the sun when it set in the evening. Because the afternoon was dreary, T.J. had turned on the lights. There were several of Megan’s drawings, Christopher noted, tacked strategically onto the bulletin board behind her desk. There was a bookcase against one wall, but the room was dominated by a desk. There wasn’t much room for anything else.

  She had a computer. State-of-the-art, from the looks of it. But it was dormant. She seemed to prefer drawing by hand. All the sketches she had spread across her desk for his perusal were hand drawn. He liked that. It seemed more personal that way and that was what his company had always striven for. The personal touch. It was how they had managed to survive in a world where everyone else was in the fast lane, scrambling toward the next goal. The perpetual race had created a void, a backlash. His company capitalized on the need it generated. Nostalgia had people wanting to return to the toys of their youth, of their parents’ youth. And his company was there to fulfill that desire.

  She’d insisted that he sit at her desk, utilizing the only chair in the room while she moved about before him, making what amounted to an impromptu presentation. And doing it brilliantly.

  He was fascinated. She didn’t just use her mouth when she spoke, but her entire body. Hand gestures, facial expressions, eyes that glinted and lit. She was a symphony of motion. And he found himself wanting to buy a season’s ticket to the concert.

  Christopher congratulated himself on finding the right person to .do justice to his company. And maybe, he mused, he’d found a little more than that.

  It bore further exploring.

  Finished, TJ. waited and then frowned to herself. Christopher had just sat there, listening to her for over twenty minutes. She knew he was awake because his eyes were opened. But he hadn’t commented or given her any input whatsoever on the work she’d placed before him. Had she managed to bore him into a coma?

  Bridling her frustration, she still allowed a sigh to escape. “You’re not saying anything.”

  She’d completely mesmerized him. “That’s because you’re still talking.”

  T.J. gathered her drawings together. They represented a great deal of late-night work, and she was proud of them. She wanted him to be proud of them, too. Very much so. Maybe she was asking too much.

  “I’m done,” she said quietly.

  He nodded, pleased at what he’d been shown. “Then I’m impressed.”

  It was just too simple. She’d heard that he was a hard man to win over. Maybe she’d missed something. Maybe he was just toying with her for some perverse reason. It wouldn’t be the first time. “And you’re still going to sign with us?”

  He wouldn’t have pegged her as being insecure. Not from what he’d heard. Hurricane Theresa, they called her. Hurricanes weren’t insecure. So far, not much of the report he’d received on her rang true. Except that she had great insight into what his company needed.

  “More than ever.”

  She blew out a breath. She had done it. She’d clinched the deal. Theresa was going to be very happy about this. Her cousin had actively been after MacAffee Toys ever since Christopher’s company had terminated its association with Random Ads.

  “That’s a relief.”

  Her reaction puzzled him a little. “I didn’t think you’d care that much.” He rose to stand beside her. She was a petite woman, he thought, with delicate bone structure that begged for a man’s hand to caress worshipfully. “Acquiring new clients must be routine by now.”

  “It’s never routine,” she answered, quickly covering her slip. Theresa never seemed eager about anything, except maybe the hunk of
the month, and then only at the beginning of the month.

  Christopher liked her response. He found it refreshing. “Maybe that’s why MacAffee Toys is going with you. You seem like you care.” He looked down into her face and wondered fleetingly what it would be like if she cared for him. “You’re awfully good at this. Blending work and play.”

  It was all she could do not to take a step back. He was standing way too close to her for comfort. She couldn’t help wondering if he was referring to the kiss in the family room. For her part, she couldn’t think of anything else for long and was surprised that she had even managed to make the presentation at all. Her pulse still felt like scrambled radio waves of a long-lost transmission endlessly traveling through space.

  “And even finding time for your niece,” he added when she didn’t say anything.

  He was talking about the kiss, she thought, suddenly nervous. What else could he be referring to? That was what “play” meant to him. Small wonder. Theresa had a reputation for going from man to man.

  For a loquacious woman, she was being unusually quiet. Unable to help himself, he wove his fingers through her hair, combing it away from her face. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone quite like you before.”

  Guilt took a giant step forward. “Maybe you’re not meeting anyone like me now,” she murmured under her breath.

  What she said didn’t make any sense. He had to have misheard her. “What?”

  Damn it, she was going to have to stop feeling guilty about this. There was nothing to feel guilty about. This was business, pure and simple. It wasn’t as if she was trying to reclaim the throne of Russia by posing as the long-lost Anastasia. She was just filling in for her cousin.

  “Nothing.” T.J. took a deep breath that sounded uncomfortably shaky to her ear. And the words were hard to push out. He had to stop touching her like that. “T.J. will be very pleased that you liked her work.”

  “These are TJ.’s?” He’d gotten the impression that she had personally drawn each one.

  “Yes. I just make the presentation.”

  “And very convincingly. One would have thought they were yours.”

  His eyes were definitely too familiar, she thought. What made it worse was that she was enjoying it. And what made it worse than that was that he thought he was looking at Theresa.

  She wished she’d never let herself be talked into this. With effort, she managed to move aside, stepping away from him. The back of her legs bumped against the desk.

  “I’ll let her know you liked them when she gets back.” Her mouth felt dry. Turning, she began straightening papers that had already been straightened.

  She almost sounded skittish. It had to be his imagination. Someone with her reputation was as far from skittish as he was from being a biker. Pleased with the way things had turned out, he felt like celebrating. With her.

  “I’d like to take you out to dinner tonight.”

  An intimate table for two. Soft lights. Maybe music. She didn’t think she could handle that. “That’s not necessary.”

  He caught her arm as she moved past him. “No, please, I insist.” She opened her mouth to protest again. Christopher deftly headed her off before she could. “To cement relations.”

  She wondered which he meant and hated herself for knowing which she wanted him to mean. Those relations had already gone further than she’d ever dreamed.

  T.J. tried to get him to change his mind. “Are you sure you wouldn’t just rather stay in? You know, gather your strength together to fly home tomorrow?” It annoyed her that in her heart, she wanted him to stay. But she did. “You were pretty sick yesterday.”

  If he didn’t know better, he would have said she was trying to get rid of him. But he did know better. Call it gut instinct, but he had a feeling that the woman before him wasn’t the type to lie or use people. She was just being concerned. He liked that. Probably more than he should.

  “It really did turn out to be just a twenty-four-hour bug. I feel great now.” More than that, he felt as if he’d never been sick at all. “And I won’t take no for an answer.”

  She smiled up into his face while her stomach turned to Jell-O. “Well, then I guess I won’t give it.” Although I know I really should.

  6

  “THIS WASN’T REALLY necessary, you know.”

  T.J. raised her eyes to Christopher’s across the table. Dinner had been far more pleasant than she had expected. Deciding to take out all the stops and play Theresa to the hilt, she discovered that she thoroughly enjoyed the role. Maybe more than she should.

  She told herself that it was just for the night and since he already believed that she was her cousin, there was no harm being done. The wine she’d had with her meal helped mute her conscience.

  Christopher couldn’t remember when he’d enjoyed himself so much. And in such a simple place. “I think it was.”

  She leaned her head on her upturned palm. The wine had taken a path straight to her head, stripping inhibitions away as it went. “Oh, you did, did you?”

  “Yes.” He wanted to repay her for kindness that had gone over and above the call of duty. That, and spend some time with her. He glanced around the family restaurant. It was fairly full. They’d been lucky to get a booth off to the side. “What I didn’t think was that you’d be caught dead in a steak house.”

  Theresa wouldn’t have. She wouldn’t have eaten a steak unless the menu proclaimed it to be filet mignon and thirty dollars a cut. But T.J.’s tastes ran in a less complex direction. Adroitly, she covered her slip by flirting. The more she did it, the more natural flirting seemed to her. And the more she enjoyed it.

  “You seem to have a lot of preconceived notions about me.”

  “Some.” Other notions, he thought, were brand-new. And growing in volume.

  She toyed with the last of her baked potato. Strangely, her appetite had all but disappeared, but she felt full. Full and light at the same time. There was a rush that came over her when she looked at him that frightened her. The only way she could savor it was by taking refuge in her role.

  “Homework?” she guessed, smiling.

  What would he say if he knew that he wasn’t sitting across from the subject of the report she knew was sitting somewhere in his office? For one wild moment, she was tempted to tell him, just to see his reaction. But then she would have to give up the charade, not to mention suffer the consequences for it. This was much better. Safer.

  And more exciting.

  He spread his hands expansively. Some women would have resented the intrusion. But Theresa Cochran was more sophisticated than that. She knew it went with the territory.

  “All right, you caught me. I believe in thoroughly knowing who I’m dealing with.” He studied her face and knew that he’d guessed correctly. She didn’t mind. “Don’t you?”

  “Yes and no.” Her mind elsewhere, she let her eyes glide over his lips and relived the moment he’d kissed her.

  He hadn’t kissed her, she reminded herself. Christopher had kissed Theresa. She knew it was the wine that was creating the small, sharp prick of jealousy she felt, but that didn’t make it any less hurtful.

  “I like surprises,” she elaborated, her voice deep, husky.

  There was an impish gleam in her eyes. He just bet she did, he thought. It seemed her style.

  “I didn’t. Until now.” The corners of his mouth pulled into a grin. He found her incredibly easy to talk to. Something else he hadn’t expected. “You’ve turned out to be quite a pleasant one.”

  Ambivalent feelings warred within her. Theresa would have coyly laughed here, absorbing the compliment as her due. T.J. couldn’t quite bring it off. Guilt wouldn’t allow it. Conscience made her want to warn him. “Maybe you’re just jumping to conclusions.”

  Modest, too. Now there was a surprise. It just kept getting better and better. “I don’t think so. I’m a fairly good judge of character.”

  Leaning over, Christopher topped off her wine, finishing
the bottle. He debated asking for another, then decided against it. He wanted a clear head tonight. He had a feeling that it might be a long while before it was over.

  A good judge of character? Not hardly, T.J. thought. She took a sip before answering. When she did, she gestured with her glass. “May I remind you that most of your judging time has been spent under covers, comatose.”

  “Some things you just have a gut feeling about.” He placed a hand over hers on the table. There was an intimacy between them in this noisy, brightly lit steak house. He felt it far more strongly than on the occasions when he brought a companion to a posh, romantically dim restaurant. It was the woman and not the place. “Like the fact that this merger is going to be a good one. I think your firm can do a great deal for mine.”

  She raised her glass in a silent toast, reinforcing his words. “No doubt about that. We have a great many ideas to put into motion.”

  His eyes skimmed over her. She was wearing a simple black dress with the air of a princess swaddled in velvet. He had a feeling she could bring off wearing burlap. “Suddenly, so do I.”

  Oh, boy. TJ. took a long sip this time, fortifying herself. She could plainly read what was on his mind. Perhaps because it was on hers, too. And it shouldn’t be.

  Christopher drew back a little. This was far too public a place to indulge in displays of affection. He wasn’t certain what had come over him. Being with Theresa appeared to loosen him up. It was something, he realized, that he could get used to.

  “You don’t know what a relief it is, meeting someone like you. I can relax, without worrying that perhaps it’s MacAffee Toys you find attractive—”

  Her eyes widened in surprise before she remembered she was supposed to be sultry. She slanted her gaze. “Instead of you?”

  Had all the women in his life been blind up to now? He was gorgeous. If she had met him as herself instead of Theresa, he would have been the one to make her want to give romance another chance.