Once Upon A Mattress

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  He probably had a girlfriend. How could he not, going to college classes filled with beautiful young coeds, relaxed girls in shorts and minis, laughing and tanned, ready for anything? Amelia couldn’t even remember where she’d put her bathing suit, and her last trip to the beach had been to supervise the shooting of a TV ad for the store.

  Someone tapped at her office door. She got up to open it, feeling guilty for the time she’d hidden in here analyzing this ridiculous crush. She prided herself on her availability to her staff, and no adolescent fantasy was going to change that pattern.

  She opened the door with a smile and found Leanne Fairchild on the other side. Fairchild. So appropriate. Leanne was truly a golden girl, an uninhibited free spirit. Everything Amelia was not. Probably just the type Will would like. The thought drove an ice pick of pain through her temple.

  “Are you feeling okay?” A frown wrinkled Leanne’s otherwise perfect brow.

  Amelia should have known the closed office door would be noticed. Her employees were a tightly knit group, which was exactly the way she had intended things to be. “Just a slight headache, but I took something for it and put my feet up for a few minutes.”

  “Good for you.” Leanne looked relieved. “Sometimes I wonder if you’re driving yourself too hard.”

  “Oh, you know me. I thrive on challenge.”

  “Good thing. I have one for you. One of my clients, Herb Morgan, is here, and he wants to trade in Highland Fling for Tahitian Temptress, and the Morgans are only three months into their lease.”

  “And you’re certain when you sold them the grouping they understood that the furniture couldn’t be traded for a new theme for at least six months?”

  “Absolutely certain. His wife was nuts about the theme, and so was he after I had a crack at him. Now he is back here, complaining.”

  Amelia’s headache got worse. Leasing theme furniture in six-month increments was the unique feature of her store, the one that had interested the potential franchise buyers the most. Customers had the option of exchanging one grouping with another so long as nothing had been damaged. The store could then sell the customer a new set of coordinating sheets and accessories, generating more revenue.

  Amelia had researched and test-marketed the concept until she’d determined that six months was the most cost-effective time period and had the most consumer appeal. Amelia had proudly told the franchise prospects that she’d never had a customer who’d wanted a trade in less than six months. Now that was no longer true.

  She massaged her forehead. “What’s the problem?”

  “Morgan says he’s allergic to wool. He says the plaid accessories are giving him a rash.”

  Amelia stared at Leanne. “But he doesn’t get to exchange the bedding and accessories. Just the furniture. Does he know that?”

  “I told him. He says that’s not the point. The theme isn’t working, and he wants it gone. I tried to jolly him out of the idea, but he j ust got louder and more demanding.”

  “I’ll talk to him.” Amelia started out into the showroom.

  “Peterson’s out there, too. He came in right after Morgan showed up.”

  “Jonathan Peterson?” The New York financier was her best hope for a franchise east of the Mississippi.

  “Yep. Said he didn’t necessarily need to talk to you, just wanted to poke around, become more familiar with the merchandise. Troy’s been trying to keep him busy and away from Morgan, but I’m sure he knows there’s a problem.”

  “Great. Just great.” Amelia unclenched her jaw with an effort and managed a smile by the time she entered the showroom. She waved in Peterson’s direction and headed toward the belligerent-looking man standing beside the Tahi-tian Temptress display, his crossed arms resting on his potbelly.

  She held out her hand. “I’m Amelia Town-send, Mr. Morgan. Leanne tells me there’s a slight problem with your Highland Fling grouping. How can we help you?”

  The hand he offered her in return was damp with perspiration. “I need a change,” he said abruptly.

  Amelia looked past the defensive stance and saw the anxiety in his gray eyes. Coming here today had probably taken enormous courage. “Why don’t you tell me about it?” she asked quietly.

  “It’s ...uh ...the bagpipes.”

  “Excuse me?” Amelia couldn’ t remember including a set of bagpipes in the grouping, although it would make an interesting wall sculpture.

  “Bertrice loves the sound. Well, she loves Mel Gibson, and the bagpipes make her think of him, which is why she wanted Highland Fling, because when she thinks of Mel Gibson she gets really—” Morgan stopped speaking as his ears reddened. “I mean, she thought it would set the mood, so to speak. And she thinks bagpipe music should be part of ...what we’re doing.”

  “And you don’t care for bagpipes?” Amelia was determined not to laugh.

  “I just don’t know how a guy can be expected to get it up with that caterwauling!” Morgan turned the color of a beet and looked away.

  Amelia gazed at the floor until she had control of her urge to giggle. Finally, she looked up and cleared her throat. “Have you mentioned this to Mrs. Morgan?”

  “Not on your life,” he muttered. “The woman’s seen Braveheart about a hundred times. How can I admit to her that I’m no Mel Gibson?”

  Amelia studied the floor again. “Won’t she be upset if you change the bedroom theme without consulting her?”

  “Not if I set it up right. Our honeymoon thirty-eight years ago was in Hawaii, and our anniversary’s this weekend. I could tell her that’s why I did it, and buy her a lei, and some ukelele music.”

  She had to admire his inventiveness. “Will this ...work for you?”

  “Are you kidding?” He smiled for the first time, giving her a glimpse of the dashing bridegroom he must have been thirty-eight years ago. “I’m ex-Navy.” He gestured toward the tropical bedroom setting. “One look at this and I’m thinking shore leave. That’s all it takes.”

  “Then I guess we’d better get you fixed up, Mr. Morgan. Come with me.” Amelia walked over to the showroom sales desk and took a new contract out of the top drawer. She’d known from the moment he’d explained his real problem that she would do this. She just had to come up with a compromise that would benefit the store, as well. “Because this is against our normal policy, would you be willing to sign a one-year lease on Tahitian Temptress instead of the standard six-month one?”

  “No problem. I’d be willing to buy the stuff outright, if you want.”

  Amelia started initialing the changes on the standard contract. “I don’t advise that until you’ve lived with it a year.” She pushed the contract across the desk for his signature. “Maybe your wife will want to trade for something else after that.”

  Morgan winked. “Not if this pans out the way I figure it will. She might want to redecorate the whole damn house this way.”

  Ten minutes later Morgan left the store a happy man.

  “Beautifully handled,” Jonathan Peterson said, coming over to the sales desk.

  There was no point in trying to cover up what had happened, Amelia thought. He’d obviously heard most of it. “Thanks, but I can’t brag anymore that nobody’s wanted an early trade.”

  Peterson shrugged, lifting the padded shoulders of his hand-tailored suit. “So you institute a new policy. Early trades mean signing a year’s lease. You haven’t lost a thing. In fact, you’ve gained a few months.” He rubbed his chin and gazed at her. “What sort of inducement could I offer you to come to New York and supervise the opening of my franchise?”

  She was taken aback. “I don’t know. I hadn’t ever considered such a thing.”

  “Your staff is extremely capable. I’m sure you could leave the mother ship for a couple of months. I’d like you to hire and train my employees. Name your price.”

  She felt slightly breathless. “Then you’ve definitely decided on the franchise?”

  “If you’ll come east and help me get i
t going, I have. I suspected you were a key ingredient of this operation’s success. After watching you deal with a customer, I’m sure of it. Who knows? I might even persuade you to find a manager for this store and stay on in New York.”

  “Oh, I doubt that.” Amelia’s mind raced. A successful store in New York could ensure the future of Bedroom Fantasies. As the song said, if she made it there, she’d make it anywhere. But she thought there was a personal undercurrent in Peterson’ s invitation. Or maybe her preoccupation with Will was affecting her perceptions.

  If Peterson was interested in her, she should be flattered. The man was both attractive and rich. Unfortunately those things didn’t balance against Will’s raw sensuality. But she wasn’t going to pursue Will. In fact, she was going to avoid him at all costs. Traveling to New York would facilitate that.

  She glanced at Peterson. “I’ll consider it. Can you give me twenty-four hours to make up my mind?”

  “Of course. I’ve lined up a potential space on Fifth Avenue. Once you decide if you can help me, we can start ordering. I’d need you in New York by March first.”

  Fifth Avenue. Amelia had never dreamed of such exposure. “I’ll let you know tomorrow.”

  “Fine. Just leave a message at my hotel.” He held out his hand. “And congratulations on this business. It’s a credit to your creativity.”

  She shook his hand and wished bells would ring and angels would warble the way they had when she’d gripped Will’s shoulder this afternoon. Silence. Damn. “Tomorrow,” she said. “Tomorrow.”

  ———

  AT SIX THAT EVENING Amelia was the last one in the store, as usual. She closed at six on week-nights, nine on Friday and Saturday or the day before a holiday. She didn’t work all the hours the store was open—just most of them. Christmas Eve she always took a late flight to San Francisco to be with her parents and little sister, but on December twenty-sixth she was back at the store. Success was a powerful aphrodisiac, and she’d become hooked on it, she realized. But she was young and could work through that after she’d made her first million. “Amelia?”

  She glanced up from her desk to see Will standing in the doorway. Talk about aphrodisiacs. He wore a black nylon jacket over his T-shirt, but it only emphasized his broad shoulders and well-developed chest. He’d been well-muscled when she’d hired him. After six months of moving furniture he deserved to be sculpted in bronze. She really needed to take that New York offer and get out of temptation’s way for a while.

  Belatedly she realized he might have encountered a problem with the Medieval Magic grouping this afternoon. Otherwise he’d have gone home after returning the truck. The other possibility, that he’d arranged to be alone with her on purpose because he was attracted to her, tickled at the back of her mind. She couldn’t think about that or she might have trouble breathing.

  “Everything go okay at the Donaldsons’?” She straightened papers on her desk that didn’t need straightening.

  “Yeah.” He grinned and leaned against the doorjamb. “By the time we left, Mrs. Donaldson had changed into a long flowing dress, and she had on one of those tall pointy hats with a scarf trailing from the top. She showed us the tights and puffy short pants she’d bought for Mr. Donaldson. Maybe you should open up a costume shop, too.”

  “Maybe I should.” It wasn’t a bad idea, she thought. Maybe after she got the New York store launched she’d look into it. But if everything had gone well at the Donaldsons’, that wasn’t the reason he’d appeared at her office door. Her heart beat a little faster.

  Will cleared his throat and shifted his weight. “I came by after everybody left because I had something personal to discuss with you.”

  Her throat constricted. “Oh?” He was attracted to her. Maybe she’d forget about New York. Maybe...

  “I probably wouldn’t have dared before, but you were so nice about catching me sleeping, that I—well, if this is out of line, just tell me, but—”

  “I’m sure it’s not out of line,” she said in a breathless voice. She clenched her hands into fists to stop them from trembling. Her dream was coming true. He was about to admit his feelings for her. Maybe he’d had them for months, as she had. Maybe he was just as frustrated and wild with unexpressed passion as she was. And here they were, in a store full of beds.

  “I ...well, this is hard to admit, but after being stationed in Alaska for so long I feel as if I’ve forgotten how to approach a woman.”

  “Don’t worry.” She struggled to keep her voice steady. “I’ll help you.”

  “You will? God, how did you know that’s what I wanted? Especially with somebody like Leanne, who’s used to guys with a smooth line. I thought maybe—”

  “Leanne?” She hardly realized she’d spoken as her dreams became a ball of fire that crashed to earth in a shower of hot sparks.

  “You sound surprised. You probably don’t know that she broke up with her boyfriend. I didn’t either, but Gabe told me. I wouldn’t ask her out otherwise. Anyway, with Valentine’s Day coming up, I thought I’d try that old secret admirer routine, leaving her notes and little presents.”

  Amelia didn’t know it was possible to hurt this bad when she’d received no physical wound. “I see.”

  “But I doubt I know her as well as you do, and I could use some help. I’ll bet you’ve never had an employee ask you to play matchmaker, huh?”

  “No.” Despite her efforts to stay calm, her voice had an edge to it. He looked a little startled, and then he frowned. “Hey, it’s a dumb idea. I don’t know what I was thinking. Forget it. I can just—”

  “No, no.” She had no idea where she summoned the reserves, but she smiled at him. “I’ll be glad to help. Give me the night to think about it. Tomorrow we can make some plans.”

  “Really? You’re sure it’s not too much of an imposition?”

  Whereupon Amelia told the biggest lie of her life. “Of course not.”

  Chapter Three

  WILL COULD HAVE SKIPPED his evening lab session for all the information he got out of it. He sat in a hard plastic chair staring into space and thinking what a complete idiot he’d just made of himself. Tomorrow he’d talk to Amelia, claim that lack of sleep had made him temporarily insane, and ask her to forget anything he might have said regarding Leanne, Valentine’s Day and secret admirers.

  Amelia was a busy woman, a woman on the rise. The last thing she needed was to help him with some stupid romantic stunt that would probably turn out bad. He’d let Gabe influence him too much, and when he’d admitted he was nervous about approaching Leanne, Gabe had suggested this dumb idea.

  While he and Gabe had been setting up the Medieval Magic grouping and joking around, Will had thought the secret admirer route was brilliant. He should have slept on it instead of barging into Amelia’s office so soon. He’d been afraid he’d lose his nerve, but he’d never forget the look on Amelia’s face when she finally understood what he wanted. She was deeply disappointed in him, and she had every right to be. He shouldn’t have bothered her with this.

  The hell of it was that once he’d stopped in the doorway of her office, he’d had trouble concentrating on Leanne. He’d spent a few moments just watching Amelia, her brown hair falling in a shiny curtain past her cheek as she tackled the paperwork on her desk. Once again he’d thought of how young she looked, too young to have the kind of responsibility she’d taken on.

  He’d wanted to walk behind her chair, massage her tense shoulders and find out if she’d bothered to eat today. What a laugh, that he’d have protective urges toward a woman who needed his protection about as much as Gabe needed a blind date.

  Then Will had spoken her name, and she’d looked up at him with those incredible turquoise eyes. He’d almost said, You look tired. Let’s go grab a bite to eat. Funny, but he didn’t feel any anxiety about asking her out—the one person in the vicinity who would be most likely to turn him down.

  Then she’d asked him about the Donaldsons, and that had reminded him
that she was the boss and he was the hired help. Gabe was right. Leanne was more his speed. So he’d braved it through, and it had been a big mistake.

  When the lab ended, he glanced at his watch and realized he didn’t have to wait until the next day to square things with Amelia. He’d call her right now. She’d supplied her employees with her phone number and address in case any emergencies came up at the store when she wasn’t there. Her trust that no one would misuse the information had been one of the things that had impressed him from the beginning. And in return the staff gave her complete loyalty.

  He found a pay phone and started to put in his money. Then he gazed at the card again. She didn’t live that far from here. Maybe he needed to explain in person, so he’d have a better chance of letting her know how sorry he was to have involved her. Yeah, he’d go see her and say that he was calling the whole thing off.

  ———

  AMELIA EASED INTO A BUBBLE BATH scented with lavender and almost groaned out loud at the pleasure of it. With a sigh she leaned her head against the terry inflatable pillow positioned at the end of the oversize tub and reached for her glass of chilled chardonnay. Lush symphonic strings poured from the mini stereo unit on her marble counter. In summer she left her bathroom window open so she could hear the surf while she bathed, but February was a little cold for that, so she settled for music.

  Okay, so today had been a total disaster. But at least she’d have no trouble deciding on the New York offer, and the sooner Peterson needed her there, the better. Maybe on his home turf Peterson would shine a little more than he did out here in California. Maybe she’d finally get rid of this obsession with Will Murdoch.

  The wine was an indulgence she didn’t allow herself on very many evenings. She often brought a stack of paperwork home in her briefcase, but tonight she hadn’t been able to face it. Tonight she felt wounded and vulnerable, ready for a hot bath and a cool sip of wine. Her favorite white lace and satin robe lay ready on a tufted stool, along with the Egyptian cotton towel that was soft as a lover’s touch.