My Phony Valentine

by Marie Ferrarella

  She was losing him, she thought in desperation. “So she asked me to substitute for her.”

  He paused, reflecting. What was to keep her from lying further? Burned, he wasn’t about to grab the red-hot skillet handle again so quickly. “Is that the story you two cooked up? Very creative.”

  Frustration clawed at her. What did it take for him to believe her?

  “We didn’t cook it up. It’s true. You can check with the hospital. Harris Memorial. And if you hadn’t gotten sick, you would have toured the offices, made your decision and left on the evening flight.” Didn’t he understand that? “But you did get sick and the rest just happened.”

  No, he wasn’t going to be made a fool of twice. Served him right for believing in something as ethereal as love. “Conveniently.”

  What was the use? She wasn’t getting through to him. Surrendering, T.J. backed away from the door. “You can say it happened any way you want to, but I just told you the truth.”

  “The truth.” He echoed the word, mocking her. “New experience for you?”

  How could she have given her heart to a man who didn’t have one? T.J. dug her nails into the palms of her hand. She wasn’t going to cry. She wasn’t going to give Christopher the satisfaction of seeing her heart breaking in front of him.

  She lifted a shoulder carelessly and let it fall. “You can believe me or not, the choice is yours. The facts are what I said they were. That, and one more thing.”

  Was she going to rub salt into the wounds she’d created and profess undying love? Did she really think he was that gullible? “And that is?”

  She wanted to tell him she loved him. But what good would that do? He wouldn’t believe her and that would leave her without the least bit of pride. Better that he never know.

  Instead, she told him what had originally put her on this rocky road to nowhere. “That we are the best company for the job.” T.J. thought of the figures she’d requested. The ones that had just arrived. “Marketing has been keeping tentative tabs on your sales. The bears are flying off the shelves.”

  They were. He knew that for a fact. His own people had called him with the news just before he’d boarded the plane. It was one of the things he’d wanted to tell her. Along with something else, something very important. Something that no longer mattered.

  He was grateful he’d found everything out before he’d made a complete fool of himself.

  It was cold comfort to him.

  His eyes searched her face. He thought of the way he’d rushed here to see her. She’d probably have a good laugh over that, wouldn’t she? “It was just business with you, wasn’t it?”

  If he really thought that, maybe she didn’t want to be with him after all.

  The hell you don’t.

  She shut the voice, and her feelings, out. Somehow she was going to get through this. And past it. She had to.

  Lifting her chin, she answered, “There are people depending on the company for jobs. Families with bills to pay, kids to send to school.”

  She was giving him his answer, he thought. She was saying yes.

  “Save it for a card commercial,” he snapped. How could she? How could she have used him this way? Didn’t she think her company could stand up on its own merits? Or did she think that he was so feebleminded as to be led around by his desire? “I would have given the contracts to you, anyway. You didn’t have to sleep with me.”

  The sanctimonious bastard. “No,” she agreed impassively. “I didn’t.”

  Couldn’t he tell that she cared, that she’d fallen for him the moment she’d seen him walking in her direction? That she wasn’t the type who would just give her body for the fun of it? Never mind that he was supposed to think she was Theresa, he should have known. Making love with her, he should have known.

  But he didn’t.

  Her mouth hardened. “Consider it a bonus.” She squared her shoulders and looked past his head. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some small children to lead astray.”

  His eyes bore small holes into her. What the hell gave her the right to be sarcastic when he was the wounded party?

  “Fine,” he bit off. As an afterthought, he threw the manila envelope on Theresa’s desk. “There are the contracts.”

  The envelope fell on the desk with a thud and then slid off onto the floor. She didn’t even look in its direction.

  “You’re staying with the company?” She would have thought that would have been his final revenge, to pull his business.

  “Sure.” The laugh was without humor. “As you pointed out, the bears are flying off the shelves. I’d be a fool to turn my back on good business. And I’ve already been enough of a fool, haven’t I?”

  And with that, he walked out of the office. The slam of the door vibrated into her very soul.

  She was still standing there, staring at the door, her hands clenched at her sides, when Theresa reentered. She picked up the manila envelope and put it on the desk. Quietly she crossed to T.J. and placed her arms around her cousin.

  “Are you all right?” she asked softly.

  No, she wasn’t. She was never going to be all right again. T.J. wiped the tears away with the back of her hand.

  “Sure, I’m fine. Just fine.” Her voice nearly broke but she managed to get it under control again. “I made love with him when I was playing you.”

  She didn’t know why she was even saying it. Theresa had probably heard everything. All of L.A. had probably heard.

  A soft, sympathetic smile played on Theresa’s lips. “Did I enjoy it?”

  T.J. shut her eyes for a moment before answering. “Yes. Very much.”

  Theresa’s heart ached for T.J. It wasn’t often her sympathies were stirred, but a stone would have ached for T.J. right now. She brushed back a loose strand from T.J.’s face. It was flushed, she noted, as if T.J. was trying very hard not to cry.

  The streaks along her cheeks gleamed.

  “By the look on your face, I’d say I enjoyed the week I had with him more than the week I had here.”

  T.J. looked at her cousin sharply, her feelings exposed, raw. “This isn’t funny, Theresa.”

  “No, I can see where it wouldn’t be.” Theresa gave her shoulder a little squeeze. “I can go after him for you and try to make it right.”

  She had no idea what she’d say to the man, but she’d come up with something. She’d never seen TJ. so upset, not even when she discovered that Peter had been cheating on her.

  But TJ. shook her head, stopping her before she could leave. “Don’t bother. Nothing is going to make this right.”

  “I can be very persuasive if I have to be.”

  T.J. knew what that meant. That was all she needed, to have Theresa “persuade” Christopher. “Not with him you won’t.”

  Theresa raised her hands in surrender. “Hands off, I promise.” She dropped them to her side, growing serious. “I just want to see you smile again.”

  “I will,” T.J. promised. “In time.” But not anytime soon.

  Theresa had her doubts. She glanced toward the door. Maybe if she tried to talk some sense into Christopher, tell him that it was all her fault.

  “I can—”

  TJ. didn’t want Theresa interfering. This was between her and Christopher. “No.”

  Theresa wasn’t accustomed to being voted down. “But—”

  This time, T.J. placed a restraining hand on Theresa’s arm. She was firm on this. “No, Theresa. If he comes back, he comes back on his own, not because you bent his arm. Or any other part of him,” she added pointedly. She released Theresa’s arm. “I told him the truth. That should have been enough.”

  If he cared about her half as much as she had about him, T.J. thought, it would have been.

  Theresa’s expression was skeptical. “In all fairness to him, how is he supposed to know which ‘truth’ to believe? You did lie to him.”

  So now she was taking his side? “Because you asked me to.”

  Theresa shoo
k her head. Men were very sensitive creatures when it came to their egos, no matter what they let on. “He doesn’t care about that part. You lied to him once and maybe he’s afraid of believing you now. Maybe he’s afraid you’re still lying.”

  It made sense, but she didn’t want sense. She wanted Christopher. She wanted him to have faith in her no matter what. “He should know the difference.”

  “Why?”

  T.J. avoided Theresa’s eyes. “Because people in love do.”

  Theresa took her face in one hand and looked into T.J.’s eyes. Love. She’d had no idea. She’d thought only passion had been involved. This made it a great deal worse. “That bad?”

  T.J. drew her head back, and then sighed. “Yes, that bad.”

  Theresa sank down, leaning against her desk. “Oh, T.J., if I’d known this was going to happen, I would have never asked you to take my place.”

  “Why?” Still smarting, T.J. looked at her. “Because he’s handsome and you would have wanted him for yourself?” She was accustomed to that. Theresa had gone after someone she’d cared about more than once and whisked him away before she’d ever had a chance. It was in Theresa’s nature to be competitive when it came to men.

  Theresa took no offense. “No, because you’re hurting and I don’t want you to be.”

  T.J. looked at her cousin sharply. The smile came to her lips slowly as realization set in. “You mean that, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” Theresa rose to her feet again. “I might be a world-class witch sometimes, but you’re my cousin and I do love you.” She laid an arm around T.J.’s shoulders. “I don’t want anything to hurt you.”

  “Thanks.”

  Theresa bit her lip. She hated for it to just end this way. Particularly if T.J. loved the man. “Are you sure there isn’t anything I can do?”

  “No, there isn’t anything anyone can do. Not now.” Not ever, T.J. added silently.

  “Do you want to go home? Pamper yourself? Soak in a hot tub? Make a dart board with his face on it?”

  TJ. laughed, a tiny spark returning. All of those were Theresa’s methods of dealing with things, not hers. Besides, she didn’t have a photograph of Christopher that she could use.

  Nothing but the image in her mind.

  “No, I want to work.” TJ. looked at the drawings she’d placed on Theresa’s desk a hundred years ago, before the world had crumbled. “Here.” She spread them out. “What do you think of these?”

  Theresa looked at her skeptically. “T.J., now?”

  “Now.” She paused. “Please.”

  “All right.” Theresa nodded and looked down at the drawings.

  11

  IT HAD BEEN, T.J. thought as she dragged herself out of her office, one of the longest days she could remember ever putting in. It hadn’t been because of the number of hours she had been here. It was a standard eight-to-five day as far as that went. No, the problem was with the date itself. Valentine’s Day.

  This one had been particularly bad for her.

  Maybe it was just her imagination working overtime, but everywhere she turned, it seemed as if thoughts of Christopher would assault her. They would race through her mind unannounced, making her remember. Making her ache.

  Today was supposed to have been special for them. Today Christopher was supposed to have returned from San Jose and taken her out for the evening. Perhaps even given her a card. Some silly little thing she would have cherished forever.

  Except now, of course, he wouldn’t. They wouldn’t ever see each another again.

  The hell with him. The hell with everything. T.J. mumbled a good-night to Heidi and kept walking.

  At one point, the day had become so hard to endure that T.J. had decided to leave early. She never got the chance. Today, of all days, Theresa had waylaid her with a project. She’d been forced to remain until now, working out details and watching a parade of flowers and gifts arrive for Theresa.

  Didn’t matter, T.J. told herself, walking down the hall. She didn’t need any of that. Tomorrow this fanfare would be over and she could just continue with her life. Alone. With Megan, she corrected silently.

  But alone where it counted.

  Damn him for ever coming into her life.

  She had to stop dwelling on him. It was over. Over almost before it was begun.

  No, she amended, punching the down button on the wall. That wasn’t really true. It had been begun, all right. With a parade and confetti and a fifty-piece brass band marching down the center of town. And ended, she thought sadly, with the same amount of noise.

  She’d hoped.

  Wished.

  T.J. pressed her lips together as the elevator arrived, banking down her emotions. Emotions that threatened to run riot through her. There was no point in raking herself over the coals about this anymore. Life went forward, not back.

  Even on Valentine’s Day.

  The silvery doors of the elevator yawned opened. Stepping forward, she was forced to quickly step back again. There was a forest of plump red roses fairly choking out of a long white vase directly in her path. All she could see of the person carrying them were jean-clad legs and hands attached to the slim column of alabaster.

  Another delivery. She sighed. Some of us have it and some of us don’t.

  “Second door from the end,” T.J. mechanically instructed. More booty for Theresa. Flowers, candy and an array of boxes she could only assume were lingerie had been arriving for her cousin all day.

  “Gee, thanks,” the profusion of roses responded.

  T.J and the deliveryman then did a sashay that looked like a mating dance, exchanging places until T.J. was the one on the elevator and the deliveryman was out in the hall.

  Leaning over, T.J. pressed the first-floor button. As the doors closed, she saw the deliveryman craning his neck around the side of the arrangement he held as he tried to make his way down the hall without a mishap.

  Didn’t matter if he had one, T.J. shrugged to herself. One bouquet more or less, Theresa would never notice its absence. She’d given up wondering how Theresa managed to know so many unattached males.

  T.J. banked down her sour mood. It wasn’t fair to be annoyed with Theresa. Theresa couldn’t help it if she attracted men like honey did bees. And bears.

  The thought of bears resurrected an image of Christopher in her mind.

  No, she upbraided herself. No more Christopher. Ever. Some were meant to have romance in their lives and some weren’t.

  Until now, it really hadn’t bothered her that much, apart from the hype of Valentine’s Day.

  Hype, she reminded herself tersely as she made her way through the parking lot, that she was as guilty of promoting as the next person.

  Maybe more so. After all, she’d been the one to push MacAffee Toys into the holiday.

  She couldn’t chastise herself about that. It was what she was paid for. To have ideas. T.J. got into her car and slammed the door. Hard.

  Right now, the wrong ones were plaguing her no matter how she tried to block them.

  Annoyed with herself, T.J. turned up the radio.

  “And now, this one is for all you lovers out there. Elvis, singing ‘Love Me Tender,’” the disc jockey announced as she pulled out of the lot.

  Muttering under her breath, T.J. shoved the first handy tape into her tape deck.

  A deep male voice began singing that it was beginning to look a lot like Christmas. T.J. left it on.

  THE DRIVE HOME was virtually accomplished on automatic pilot. Under oath, TJ. couldn’t have said how she’d gotten there. She just had. Mercifully intact.

  With a flick of her wrist, she aimed the garage door opener at the closed dove gray door. The hinges on either side creaked as it opened to admit her.

  Maybe, she mused driving in, just this once she’d take a page out of Theresa’s book. She’d pamper herself with a bubble bath right after she put Megan to bed.

  A really hot bubble bath, TJ. decided. With any luck, she’d purge Chri
stopher out of her system once and for all.

  He didn’t belong there anyway.

  Getting out of the car, she saw a flicker of pink out of the corner of her eye. Curious, she walked around the back of her car and looked out.

  There were rose petals strewn in her driveway. Pink rose petals. The breeze had ruffled some of them, but from the looks of it, they formed a trail.

  A trail of rose petals?

  Puzzled, she followed them and found that they led to her front door.

  She would have said that Megan was responsible, except that there were no roses in her garden and the petals looked as if they had been deliberately arranged to form a path to her door.

  T.J. couldn’t begin to make heads or tails out of it. Maybe it was someone’s bizarre idea of a joke. If that was the case, she was far too tired to be amused. She still didn’t understand why Theresa had insisted she remain until five. Theresa was usually the one ushering her out the door if she showed the slightest inclination to leave early.

  Who knew? Who knew anything, T.J. thought irritably. All she wanted was for today to be over.

  Unlocking the front door, T.J. discovered that the lights were out. They shouldn’t have been. But the only illumination in the house was a small, eerie light coming from beyond the living room.

  TJ. caught her lower lip between her teeth. This was getting to be really strange.

  Venturing in, T.J. looked around. Nothing. No one. Where was everybody?

  “Cecilia? Megan? I’m home.” She paused, waiting. “Where are you?”

  There was no answer.

  Nerves began to manifest themselves. Her purse slipped from her slick fingers. As she bent down to pick it up, she saw that the rose petals were inside the house, too. Leading away from the door.

  Heart quickening, T.J. had no choice but to continue to follow the trail. It extended through the living room into the dining room, where it stopped abruptly at the table.

  It didn’t even look like her table. There was a fine white lace tablecloth spread over the cherrywood top and it was set for two. The light that had guided her through the house was coming from two tall, tapering candles set in silver stands.