Bachelor Heart

by Regina Morris

  Until now.

  Once Deborah got her coffee, and Caroline another decaf refill, Caroline tapped her watch. “We have an hour until our massages.”

  “Massages?” Deborah only wanted a little quiet time, perhaps to reflect on everything or maybe to write. She couldn't even remember the last time she’d had a massage.

  “Naturally, we'll want to relax. There's no better way than to start with a nice spa day.” The two walked to the elevator. “After the massage, we have appointments for our hair, nails, and makeup.”

  An expensive cup of coffee was one thing, but a spa day? Everything was happening too fast, and too expensively, for her taste. “None of this is necessary, Caroline.”

  Caroline gave her a wry smile. “You're getting an entire makeover. After all, you're soon to be Mrs. Daniel Ellington.”

  Deborah dipped her toes into the warm, soapy water and enjoyed the warmth of the swirling pedicure bath. She couldn't remember the last time she had had a spa day.

  “Mmmmm,” Caroline moaned. She sat next to Deborah in her own luxurious massage chair. “This is so worth it.”

  Spending hundreds of dollars to pamper herself was a luxury. One Deborah saw as a silly waste of money. Although, she did enjoy the moment.

  “I’m glad you tagged along on my hotel stay.” Deborah smiled at her friend.

  “Oh, Deb. I wouldn’t miss an opportunity like this.”

  The only thing Deborah had to do today was prepare for a fancy dinner tonight. The original plan was to lock herself away in the deluxe suite and crank out another couple of chapters. Thinking back to the grandness of the hotel and how delightful their spa services were, she'd have to make sure the heroine in her novel visited a place like this.

  Actually, Deborah could use future spa days as a tax deduction and site that she was doing research. She let out a chuckle. If that were the case, her next book would be in the setting of Hawaii.

  Glancing at her gel–painted nails, and admiring how beautiful they looked, she heard Caroline calling her name.

  “We got the deluxe package, including waxing.”

  Waxing? That sounded painful, and it was something Deborah had never done before. “I'm fine without it.”

  The pedicurist tapped Deborah's right leg, signaling that she needed it out of the water. The woman then pointed to her forehead and asked, “We can do your eyebrows too.”

  “We'll take everything,” Caroline said to the woman.

  Deborah recognized and didn’t care for the upsale. “The eyebrows stay.” She glanced down at her only half–shaven legs. The wintry season called for pants or long skirts. She had shaved only up to her knee, and that was two days ago. The pedicurist, who now massaged Deborah's leg, had a prickly mess to deal with. They definitely needed attention.

  But it wasn't as though Daniel—she caught herself mid-thought. It wasn’t as though any man was going to notice, let alone touch, her legs.

  She took a deep breath and gazed at the ceiling. She couldn’t allow her mind to slip, not like that, not after all of these years. It was her dark secret; one she wouldn’t repeat.

  “I have to say, I was surprised to hear that you’d agreed to this deal,” Caroline said.

  “Daniel needed my help, that's all.” Deborah glanced down at the woman seated at her feet, knowing full well that they listened to every word their clients said. Perhaps it was time for a change of topic.

  “I am sorry, though,” Deborah said.

  “For what?”

  “I told you I was ready for the blind date you wanted to set me up with. Now, that will have to wait until after…after everything is done with the contract.”

  Caroline waved her manicured hand. “Don't worry about it. The guy I have in mind is perfect for you so I have a feeling things will work out.” Her voice sounded so self-assured, and the expression on her face told Deborah that Caroline truly believed she had found ‘the one’ for her.

  Highly doubtful.

  The jets hit Deborah’s toes and felt like angels massaging her toes. “Who do you have in mind?” she asked in between coos of contentment.

  Caroline's lips curled up into a wicked smile. “You'll have to wait and find out. He's busy at the moment, so waiting two weeks won't be an issue.” She now studied Deborah. “How long have you worked at the company?”

  Glancing down at the pedicurists, Deborah noted the two were focused on their job and not interested in chatting with them. Which was good.

  “Nearly twenty years.”

  “Wow,” Caroline said. “Did you start working there after high school?”

  Deborah lay back heavier in her chair and allowed the massage rollers to better hit the base of her neck. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

  “Seriously. Is this the only job you've ever had?”

  She shrugged. “The only job I ever needed. The pay is good, although the hours can sometimes be rough.” Overall, they weren’t too bad but there had been several late-night hours and early morning breakfast meetings, as well as some weekend crunch-mode sessions to get work done. Other than trying to juggle the schedule with getting her sister Sue to babysit Josh, the extra hours never really bothered her.

  “I can understand rough hours. Being a waitress was no picnic before I met Scott.”

  It was one reason Deborah felt close to her friend. The woman hadn’t been a spoiled rich kid with a trust fund. She’d worked hard to make ends meet, and had put herself through school. Caroline had been a true rags-to-riches story with a Prince Charming.

  Caroline pulled her foot from her pedicurist's hands. “No, you can't massage my feet. Please just pumice and paint.” The woman wiped the lotion off her hands and then grabbed a clean towel to dry Caroline's foot.

  “It's a shame pregnant women can't have their feet and ankles massaged.” Deborah let out a soft moan as her woman now rubbed hers. “This feels amazing.”

  “Don't rub it in.” Caroline hugged her large belly. “It's worth it.”

  “That's right.” Deborah smiled, remembering her time being pregnant with Josh. She vomited pretty much every day, but once you hold the baby in your arms nothing else but that blessing matters. “Your entire world will be that baby. Motherhood was the best thing I ever did.”

  “I hope you don't mind me asking,” Caroline said, “but, whatever happened to Josh's father?”

  Thinking about him, and trying to remember the man's good qualities, Deborah decided not to mentally chastise herself for making such a poor choice all those years ago. He may have been handsome and successful, but that was it. What was on the inside is what mattered most, and that man was hollow.

  “He died years ago,” she lied. Although, to her, he was dead.

  “I'm so sorry. He must have been young. Was it a car accident?”

  If it were possible to die from being an asshole, he would have died long ago. “Natural causes. He was older than I was. We were never together since he wasn't a family man.”

  “You never married him?” Her voice wasn’t accusative or sharp, but filled with empathy in a supportive way used by best friends. Her concern brought a warm fuzzy feeling to Deborah that she normally didn’t have when someone asked her about Josh’s father.

  Caroline added, “I assumed you were divorced.”

  “It's always just been Josh and me.” And now, with Josh away at college, Deborah’s world had narrowed in on her. It was frightening, but she was adjusting one day at a time.

  “But you've dated. Had relationships.”

  Deborah watched as the pedicurist now dried her feet. She asked about the nail polish color, which was a bright, fire engine red.

  “Right?” Caroline asked again when she got no answer.

  Deborah nodded. “I've dated a few men. They were never quite right,” she said, not wanting to go into any lengthy detail. After Josh was born, she had a newborn to care for. She figured she’d be able to date once he went off to kindergarten, but that didn’t happ
en. Once Josh started asking about his father she figured she’d start dating again, but those conversations were just awkward with her telling him mostly the truth, but keeping her secret to herself.

  Even after he had graduated from high school and had moved away, she was an empty-nester and free to go out whenever she wanted. She just hadn’t met anyone of interest to go out with.

  “I guess it is harder to find a man when you have a child to raise.” Caroline now admired her freshly painted toes. “Who would be your Mr. Right if you could build him from scratch?”

  Deborah smiled at the thought. Making your man from top to bottom sounded nice. “I guess someone I can talk to. Someone who is charming and can get me to laugh.” She bit her lip and focused on what she really wanted. “Someone who respects me and can support me.”

  She shook her head. “I mean. I don't mind working. In fact, I enjoy it. But I'd like the opportunity to do more writing and see if there is a future in it for me.”

  “That's right. You're a writer,” Caroline said. “I searched for your book, but I didn't find it.”

  Naturally, she wouldn't. That’s why pen names existed. How could she write about a series of billionaires who fall in love with their assistants and not make it seem autobiographical? No one she knew would ever read her novels. “Don't worry about it.” She motioned with her hand in a karate–chop way. “I try to keep my life divided and separate.”

  “That’s probably a smart idea,” Caroline said.

  Deborah needed to change the subject. “Do you read much?”

  “Some,” Caroline said. “What about physical looks? What would your ideal date look like?”

  At the very least the topic was back on perfect dates and not her books. Deborah would just die inside if anyone she knew read her novels.

  She rarely opened up and talked about such things as the perfect man, but then again, she didn't have many girlfriends to hang out with. And, with the smell of nail polish hanging in the air, it didn't get much more stereotypical Girls’ Day Out than this—unless they went upstairs and had a pillow fight.

  “Well?” Caroline’s gazed studied Deborah. “I think I have the perfect blind date for you, I just need to know physically what you're interested in.”

  Deborah’s gave a half-way shrug. “I guess my ideal man would be tall and have dark hair. I'd want him to be smart and sophisticated. Someone who helps others, or contributes to charity.” A smile crossed her lips as she stared blankly off into the distance. “I love piercing blue eyes and a strong jaw. Ripped muscles… I wouldn't say no to those either.”

  Letting out a slight chuckle, Deborah shook her head. “I can hear it, so you don't need to tell me. I just described Superman.”

  “No, you just described Daniel.”

  Her gaze darted to the floor, and she found it difficult to make eye contact with Caroline. A fake smile plastered onto her face. “No. That's not who I'm describing.” She took a deep breath and sensed the awkward silence in the room.

  “I guess,” Deborah said, her mind racing to backtrack. “I mean… As a personal assistant, you spend time with a man. You take care of his home, get his clothing laundered, buy him new socks when the old ones get frayed… You even do his banking because he trusts you. It doesn't mean there is anything… There isn't anything…”

  “You did accept this contract, Deb.”

  Caroline stared at Deborah as if waiting for a confession. There was none to give, except the truth. In a dismissive tone Deborah said, “I agreed because I can use the money. College doesn't pay for itself. Daniel’s offer was very generous.”

  Caroline sat straighter in the chair. Her foot moved and messed up the work of the pedicurist, causing the woman to curse under her breath. “Speaking of Daniel, I almost forgot.” She carefully picked up her phone. “We're still getting our hair done today and—”

  Deborah touched her hair, which was classically pulled back into a professional bun. “You want me to cut my hair?”

  “Cut and dye.” Caroline's head tilted as she stared at Deborah's hair. “You're practically my age, and you have gray.”

  She felt the blush on her face. “I have a good ten years on you.”

  “You couldn't tell. You're a stunning woman, Deb. You should pamper yourself sometimes.”

  The compliment was doubly nice coming from Caroline, who had porcelain beautiful skin and gorgeous blonde hair. “I grayed early. Plus, dark brunette hair shows the gray more.”

  “We'll also give you a modern hairstyle.”

  “I don't know if I need to cut—”

  “Deborah.” Caroline voice was motherly-stern. “Your hair is comfortable, but it isn't attractive. You have so much to offer. You're brilliant, kind… available. Don't you want to make a good first impression when I set you up on the blind date later?”

  Deborah hadn't thought of all the effort needed to get back into the dating game. But it was time for a new look. And what better time for a change than with her best friend. “I guess you're right. No point in wasting a perfectly good spa day.”

  “That's the spirit. You'll have a lovely evening out and enjoy yourself.” She carefully typed on her phone. “I need to leak your picture and dinner reservations to the press tonight. That way, you can make an appearance.”

  “An appearance? Honestly, it's only a meal.” A nice quiet meal with Daniel sounded nice, but a media frenzy sounded horrific.

  “Have you ever dined at Mas Rafs?” When Deborah shook her head, Caroline added, “It's an experience. I had to guess your size, but there are three gowns in the closet upstairs for you to choose from.”

  “Gowns?” This dinner seems more complicated than it needed to be.

  Caroline glanced at her rounded belly. “They're not going to fit me again for a while. You might as well get some use out of them.” She then grinned from ear–to–ear. “Just wait. It's going to be an evening you'll never forget.”

  14

  Daniel's office door slammed open, jarring him from his concentration on the upcoming conference in Los Angeles.

  Brian Compton stood in the doorway, his ego blocking most of the threshold.

  Finally. Daniel had been waiting for a visit from Mr. Compton for days. He closed the file he was reading and put his computer in sleep mode to prevent any information from being seen. He trusted Mr. Compton, but only to a certain point.

  “You can’t just barge in…” a shrilly voice sounded from the other room. A second later, the temp secretary, Ms. Ortiz, stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at the man.

  “He just barged in here.” Her expression of a second grader tattling on a classmate fit her personality and grated against Daniel’s nerves.

  She stood her ground and puffed up her chest, allowing her see–through top to gape and show even more cleavage.

  “Daniel...”

  “Mr. Ellington,” Daniel said, correcting her once more with a sterner tone. The girl was maybe twenty, and he suspected had never worked before. When he had asked for a mature, competent woman, the agency must have heard young and horny.

  “Mr. Ellington, this man”—her eyes narrowed and shifted toward the intruder—“demands to talk to you and says it's a private matter.”

  Mr. Compton’s eyebrow rose and he gave Daniel an all-knowing look, like he knew Daniel would drop everything and talk to him.

  Bold and obnoxious. Those were the words Daniel would use to describe his personal private eye. Over the years, hiring the man had come in handy. Not even Ms. Baxter knew what he did.

  “He doesn't have an appointment.” The assistant’s voice was laced with an undertone of a whine.

  “See that we're not disturbed.” Daniel crossed the room and gave the man a hearty handshake. He then closed the door, even while his secretary muttered something under her breath.

  “Have a seat.” Daniel gestured to the guest chair in front of his desk as he walked and returned to his own.

  Brian pulled a large brown
envelope from his satchel. “The new gal is quite young, but a looker,” he said, nodding his head back to the outer office.

  In an all–business voice, Daniel said, “You have information for me.” Daniel found it best not to be chatty with someone whose services cost three hundred dollars an hour.

  Brian tossed the envelope on the desk. “Brandelynn Myers is a crafty one.”

  Daniel opened the envelope and took out the report. Her initial inspection months ago had pulled up nothing, but the expression on Brian's face told Daniel that, this time, something had turned up. “You discovered more since your first search seven months ago?”

  Brian pointed to the paperwork and sneered. “Brandelynn Myers is her real name, but she has several aliases. A new one, Brandi Orson, works at the Black Cat Gentlemen's Club. She's been working there for quite some time.”

  He had been played.

  Acid rose in his throat and he needed an antacid.

  Deep down he had always known something wasn’t quite right about Brandelynn. The feeling had lurked in his mind but he had been too blindsided by her body to take heed.

  He scanned the document, first looking at the pictures. The eight–by–ten glossy images of her half naked and twirling on a pole and doing lap dances were enough to sicken him. Even with the jet–black wig she wore, he easily recognized Brandelynn. That body. Those curves. It was definitely her. “Working at a nightclub under an alias isn't a crime.”

  “No, but swindling wealthy men out of their fortunes is.”

  Daniel’s jaw clenched and his anger grew, but this was why he paid so much for Brian’s services.

  “What do you mean?”

  Brian leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “She and her brother, Phillip Myers, are con artists. They settle in, find the richest man around, and take them for all they've got. That file has police records and warrants in Nebraska for her arrest. Their last scam almost landed her in jail.”

  “What about him?” Daniel held up a picture of Phillip. The image just had a hint of a side profile, not much to really go on.