Angel in Disguise (9 page)

He took a deep breath and smoothed her hair, that same little intimacy she’d noticed before. Cupping
her face in both hands, he whispered, “Where do we go from here, Sunny?”

Leaving this beautiful place had no appeal. A pizza, a movie and then to their separate homes for the night? That was better than nothing, but why settle for less when there was so much better?

“I’ve got an idea,” she said, confident he’d love her choice.

“Whatever it is, you’re still buying,” he said with a grin.

“No problem. It won’t cost much.”

“It won’t cost me at all. If you’ve changed your mind about pizza, just remember you said it was your treat.”

She laughed shyly. “Then here’s my treat. I’d like us to do the hike just as
Dream Date
planned.”

Pete felt sick to his stomach. Her golden brown eyes sparkled with happy anticipation. And why not? She had a right to think he’d be pleased. On national TV he’d declared how much he loved all this. She was giving him exactly what she thought he would want.

This was the moment he should confess. How hard could it be? He’d admitted he didn’t like cheesecake. She’d admitted she couldn’t boil water. She didn’t have a pickup, and he’d never explored in his life. It was no big deal. He’d just tell her, and she’d laugh about it. And then they’d go get the pizza.

But what if she said she’d teach him to camp? And she would. She loved this. She’d want to share it.

Then he’d have to get totally honest and tell her
about his bum hip. Again, no big deal. Sunny was the kind of person who took bad news in stride. He knew what her reaction would be. She’d feel sorry for him, but it wouldn’t be pity. The woman could cope.

Go ahead. Just say, “Sunny, this could cost me dearly. Like, maybe a month in rehab. Even a permanent setback.” He’d bet anything she’d even admire him for his honesty, his ability to share his fears, his trust in her.

Go ahead, he told himself again, sterner this time, tougher, meaner. Insistent. Tell her.

But he couldn’t. There was just no way he could tell this pretty woman he wasn’t the man she thought him to be.

Chapter Five

“L
et’s do it.” Solemn as a judge, Pete picked up his pack and looked up the trail.

It wasn’t the reaction she’d expected. “Pete, we don’t have to. If you’d rather—”

“No,” he broke in. “It’s a great idea. You take the lead.”

Puzzled, she moved up the trail. This was no wildly enthusiastic guy, thrilled with another chance to camp and explore.

He’d been this way that first night in the producer’s office when he’d warned her he would be “a lousy date.” And there was that moment at her house when he’d tried to end the date before they’d eaten dinner. The rest of the time he’d been wonderful—fun, caring, protective, respectful. So what if she now had to add “a little moody”? Nobody was perfect.

The way he insisted that she take the lead and set the pace was especially thoughtful. A guy as strong
and athletic-looking as Pete could run off and leave her with her tongue hanging out. She could add “considerate” to his list of good qualities.

Her competitive nature made her want to move along fast enough to impress him. Though she wasn’t in the physical condition she’d been in when she played college basketball, she got plenty of exercise teaching and coaching.

At the pace she set, the first incline didn’t allow for conversation. She’d rather hike slower and talk, but she didn’t want Pete to think she was a wimp. Pride pushed her on.

When the path leveled off at a scenic overlook, Sunny stopped to catch her breath. She’d been so intent on covering ground that she hadn’t paid attention to the trail behind her. When she saw how far behind Pete was, she felt like a kid who’d used the wrong fork at dinner. She might have known racing to the top wouldn’t impress a serious hiker.

Pete had picked up a fallen branch and was using it as a walking stick, moving along in a leisurely fashion, examining his surroundings with great interest. Was he annoyed that she’d rabbited up the incline?

When he saw she was watching him, he raised his stick in a salute and sent her one of those approving smiles. It made her so relieved and happy. A lousy date? Pete Maguire was anything but that.

Pete lowered his stick from the casual salute and thought he might take up acting. The way Sunny had laughed at his salute, she couldn’t suspect the hike had already started to get to him.

When he’d spied the fallen branch, it had seemed
a gift from heaven. It helped him feel steadier on the uneven terrain and gave him an excuse for his pace.

He’d had time for second thoughts. And third and fourth. He might have managed the beginner trail, maybe even the intermediate, but not this one. The elevation of this trail had no mercy on a bad hip. If he had a cellular phone, he’d call rehab right now and reserve a bed.

Back there he’d get little sympathy. There were guys who would give all they owned for the recovery he’d made. They’d think he was a fool to jeopardize his progress. And they’d be absolutely right.

When he finally caught up to her, she said, “I’m embarrassed. I took off like a rabbit, didn’t I?”

She was making this easy. All he had to do was get a little creative in the excuse-making department. “I do the same thing if I don’t use a stick as a gimmick to help me pace myself.”

“Come to think of it,” Sunny said brightly, “I remember seeing pictures of guys hiking the Alps, using walking sticks. Except they wore lederhosen.”

“Mine are in my backpack.”

Sunny laughed and the sound filled an empty spot in his heart. He settled himself on a rock and reached for his canteen.

“You’ve got the right idea,” she said, finding her own rock for a seat. “I need to learn it’s the quality, not the quantity, of the hike that’s important. You’ve probably guessed I’m a competitive person.”

“You wouldn’t be much good as a coach if you weren’t.”

Those butternut eyes glowed. “You’re a nice guy, Pete.”

He used to be. He’d like to be.

“In fact, you’re the first really nice studmuffin I’ve met.”

“Stud-what?” he asked, puzzled.

“Studmuffin. You know, a good-lookin’ guy the girls all go for. You’re the real thing. The girls on my team said so. It must be pretty hard to take.”

He didn’t mind playing along. “Well, it is,” he drawled. “You never know when you’re gonna break some sweet thing’s heart.”

“I bet you’ve left a trail of broken hearts.”

The way she said it, she might mean it. He couldn’t let that pass. “Hey, I know we’re just kidding around, but for the record, I’ve never broken a heart in my life.”

“Not that you knew of,” she said smugly. “All studmuffins are heartbreakers.”

“Sunny!” She was pretty, teasing him this way, but exasperating, too. “No way am I a…one of them.”

“You may not intend to be but, my man, you are. In fact, when it comes to studmuffins, you’re state-of-the-art.”

“Would you stop that?” She was having a good time, but he’d heard enough of this nonsense.

“Just don’t let it go to your head.” She waggled a warning finger at him.

It was The Face she was talking about, not him, and she couldn’t know how much he hated it. In the long run, he’d have to get used to people thinking The Face was him, but today wasn’t the day. She
ought to know who he really was. At least it would stop her goofy talk about studmuppets or whatever she’d said.

He reached for his wallet, flipped to a photo and said, “Take a look at that.”

She glanced at it and smiled. “A pretty bride between a couple of guys in blue tuxes.”

“That’s me.”

She glanced at the picture again, frowning. “Which one? The bride, the young, clean-shaven man or the older one with a beard? You’re not here. Or is this the point where you pull off a rubber face mask and become one of these people?”

“You’ve been watching too much sci-fi.”

She chuckled, her brown eyes filled with delight.

So far, so good. She was handling this just fine. Now for the truth. “That’s a picture of Lisa and me with my dad.”

Her eyes widened and she looked at the picture again, then at him, and back to the picture. “Sorry, you’re still not here.”

“Look again. I’m the groom.”

Sunny studied the features of Pete on his wedding day, trying to see the man she knew. The young man had Pete’s half smile, dark hair, kind eyes and great build, but the face was totally different.

“Dad died recently. I dug this picture out because it was the only one I could find of him. He hated having his picture taken.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, Pete.” It seemed a pitifully inadequate thing to say, but she couldn’t do better right now.

“That’s okay.”

She glanced at him to see if he meant it. He smiled back. She looked again at the picture. “This really is you?”

He nodded.

No one would call this young man handsome. Not even a loving mother. She looked up and compared Pete’s classic Roman nose with the one in the picture.

“Checking the nose?” he asked. “Broke it twice playing football. How about the big chin? Just like my dad’s. That was the face of one homely dude.”

“Not homely! How can you say that?”

“Admit it. It’s no stud…whatever you said.”

“Well, no. But you were far from homely.” If she were honest, she’d have to say, “not too far,” but who needed that kind of truth?

“A couple of years ago,” he said, “I got banged up in a car accident, and they had to reconstruct my face. I was drugged, and my mom who’s a sculptor told them to give me a ‘classic’ look. This is it.” He mugged, making such a silly face she had to smile. It was strange, watching him make light of such serious, life-changing injuries.

“Was it difficult, getting used to the change?”

“Who says I’ve gotten used to it? The guy I see in the mirror isn’t me. He’s just ‘The Face.”’

Handing the picture back to him, she bent over and retied a bootlace. The lace wasn’t loose, but she didn’t want him to see her eyes right now. A lesser man might feed on a woman’s pity, but Pete Maguire would hate it.

At least now she understood his total lack of egotism. It had been unfair to stereotype him as a worthless
charmer just because he was as handsome as the one who’d broken her heart.

Searching for a positive comment, she said, “Your dad has nice eyes, just like yours.”

He nodded. “I wish you could have known him. You’d have liked his sense of humor. He had his own construction company, and I worked with him, building houses.”

“So, you really are a carpenter.”

“Sure.”

For once her hooey detector must have been wrong.

“My dad had ‘Maguire and Son’ painted on his truck the day after I was born.”

“He must have been proud. Fathers are supposed to love having their sons following them into business. Did you always want to be a carpenter?”

The question bothered him. She could see it right away.

“Actually, I went to college to be an architect. It seemed a natural choice with my dad in the building trades and Mom an artist. But I dropped out after my sophomore year when Lisa said she was pregnant. I went to work for Dad, and we got married.”

She wanted to ask about the baby, but that could be another sore spot.

He may have read her mind, for he said, “There was no baby.”

But the promise of one got a young man with a promising future to the altar. Lisa must be a real jewel.

“And again, how long were you married?” she asked, trying to hide her contempt.

“Ten years.”

It took him that long to wise up to Lisa?

“When I married, I married for keeps,” he said softly, unresolved anguish clear in his eyes.

He was still blaming himself. She’d seen her friends go through the same thing—the ones who’d been left, not the ones doing the leaving.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” she asked, offering an ear. It had helped her to tell him about Bruce.

He met her eyes for a second, no more, but that must have been enough for him to see she genuinely cared. Tracing his walking stick across the ground, he seemed to struggle for the right words. He could take all the time he needed. Explaining the end of a marriage was no easy thing.

“Lisa wanted out,” he said finally, flexing his shoulders uneasily. “But they say it takes two to break up a marriage.”

“Or three. Had Lisa met someone?”

He looked surprised. She didn’t know why. It was a common scenario.

“She didn’t meet him,” he said cynically. “She’d known him as long as she’d known me. He was the best man at our wedding.”

Ouch. That had to hurt. “Let me guess. Either you worked a lot of overtime hours which left Lisa lots of free time, or your buddy made lots more money than you did. Probably both.”

He looked at her with awe. “Where’s your crystal ball?”

“Don’t need one. I watched the soaps when I was in college.”

The half smile twitched, but he quickly sobered and said, “Lisa was raised poor. She seemed to need material things more than most. I don’t think she could help it. I worked a lot of overtime so she could have what she wanted, but that left her alone.”

“And your buddy with the big bucks was available with cash to spend on your material girl.”

“Yeah,” he drawled with narrowed eyes. “Intuition or more scenes from the soaps?”

“Both.” On a visceral level, she felt an intense urge to make Lisa sorry she’d hurt this very good man.

“Lisa said I shouldn’t take it personally. It was just time for an upgrade.”

Sunny couldn’t hold back a gasp. “What did you do?”

“Gave her the divorce.”

“You didn’t fight it?”

The barest move of his head said he had not.

“Do you wish you had?”

He shrugged. “I’m not much of a fighter.”

“You were going to take on Brad.”

“Yeah, but he was giving you and Meggy a hard time.”

Pete would fight to protect his sister and a woman he barely knew, but he wouldn’t fight for himself. She could identify with that. Hadn’t she run from her parents and her ex rather than demand they treat her with respect? It wasn’t something that made you feel very good about yourself. Peace came when you stopped running and gave the situation to God. She wondered if Pete knew that yet.