Be My Valentine (14 page)

The song was fast-paced and Bailey began swaying her hips and moving to the beat. Before she was sure how it had happened, she was quite a distance from her friend. She found herself standing next to a tall good-looking man about Parker's age, who was obviously enjoying the group's performance.

He smiled at Bailey and she smiled shyly back. The next song was another oldie, one written with young lovers in mind and perfect for slow dancing.

Bailey tried to make it down the aisle to Parker's seat, but the row was empty. Although she glanced all around she couldn't locate him.

“We might as well,” the good-looking man said, holding out his hands to her. “My partner has taken off for parts unknown.”

“Mine seems to have disappeared, too.” Scanning the crowd, she still couldn't find Parker but then, the area was so congested it was impossible to see anyone clearly. A little worried, she wondered how they'd ever find each other when the concert was over.

She and her new partner danced two or three dances without ever exchanging names. He twirled her about with an expertise that masterfully disguised her own less-inspired movements. They finished a particularly fast dance, and Bailey fanned her face, flushed from the exertion, with one hand.

When Hairspray introduced another love ballad, it seemed only natural for Bailey to slip into her temporary partner's arms. He said something and laughed. Bailey hadn't been able to make out his words, but she grinned back at him. She was about to say something herself when she saw Parker edging toward them, scowling.

“My date's here,” she said, breaking away from the man who held her. She gave him an apologetic look and he released her with a decided lack of enthusiasm.

“I thought I'd lost you,” she said when Parker made it to her side.

“I think it's time we left,” he announced in clipped tones.

Bailey blinked, surprised by his irritation. “But the concert isn't over yet.” Cutting a path through the horde of dancers would be difficult, perhaps impossible. “Shouldn't we at least stay until Hairspray is finished?”

“No.”

“What's wrong?”

Parker shoved his hands in his pockets. “I didn't mind you dancing with that Barry Gibb look-alike, but the next thing I know, you've taken off with someone else.”

“I didn't
take off
with anyone,” she said, disliking his tone as much as his implication. “We were separated by the crowds.”

“Then you should've come back to me.”

“You didn't honestly expect me to fight my way through this mass of humanity, did you? Can't you see how crowded the aisles are?”

“I made it to you.”

Bailey sighed, fighting the urge to be sarcastic. And lost. “Do you want a Boy Scout award? I didn't know they issued them for pushing and shoving.”

Parker's eyes flashed with resentment. “I didn't push anyone. I think it would be best if we sat down,” he said, gripping her by the elbow and leading her back into a row, “before you make an even greater spectacle of yourself.”

“A spectacle of myself,” Bailey muttered furiously. “If anyone was a spectacle, it was you! You were the only person in ten rows who wasn't dancing.”

“I certainly didn't expect my date to take off with another man.” He sank down in a seat and crossed his arms as though he had no intention of continuing this discussion.

“Your date,” she repeated, struggling to hold on to her temper by clenching her fists. “May I remind you this entire evening was for the purposes of research and nothing more?”

Parker gave a disbelieving snort. “That's not how I remember it. At the time, you seemed eager enough.” He laughed, a cynical, unpleasant sound. “I'm not the one who chased after you.”

Standing there arguing with him was attracting more attention than Bailey wanted. Reluctantly she sat down, primly folding her hands in her lap, and stared directly ahead. “I didn't chase after you,” she informed him through gritted teeth. “I have
never
chased after any man.”

“Oh, forgive me, then. I could have sworn it was you who followed me off the subway. Were you aware that someone who closely resembles you stalked me all the way into Chinatown?”

“Oh-h-h,” Bailey moaned, throwing up her hands, “you're impossible.”

“What I am is correct.”

Bailey didn't deign to reply. She crossed her legs and swung her ankle ferociously until the concert finally ended.

Parker didn't say a word as he escorted her to his car, which was fine with Bailey. She'd never met a more unreasonable person in her life. Less than an hour earlier, they'd practically been drowning in each other's eyes. She'd allowed herself to get caught up in the magic of the moment, that was all. Some Valentine's Day!

They parted with little more than a polite good-night. Bailey informed him there was no need to see her to her door. Naturally he claimed otherwise, just to be obstinate. She wanted to argue, but knew it would be a waste of breath.

Max was at the door to greet her, his tail waving in the air. He stayed close to her, rubbing against her legs, and Bailey nearly tripped over him as she hurriedly undressed. She started to tell him about her evening, changed her mind and got into bed. She pulled the covers up to her chin, forcing the cantankerous Parker Davidson from her mind.

 

Jo Ann was waiting for her outside the BART station the following morning. “Well?” she said, racing to Bailey's side. “How was your date?”

“What date? You couldn't possibly call that outing with Parker a date.”

“I couldn't?” Jo Ann was clearly puzzled.

“We attended the Pops Concert—”

“For research,” Jo Ann finished for her. “I gather the evening didn't go well?” They filed through the turnstile and rode the escalator down to the platform where they'd board the train.

“The whole night was a disaster.”

“Tell Mama everything,” Jo Ann urged.

Bailey wasn't in the mood to talk, but she made the effort to explain what had happened and how unreasonable Parker had been. She hadn't slept well, convinced she'd made the same mistake with Parker as she had with the other men in her life. All along she'd assumed he was different. Not so. Parker was pompous, irrational and arrogant. She told Jo Ann that. “I was wrong about him being a hero,” she said bleakly,

Jo Ann frowned. “Let me see if I've got this straight. People started dancing. One man asked you to dance, then you got separated and danced with another guy and Parker acted like a jealous fool.”

“Exactly.” It infuriated Bailey every time she thought about it, which she'd been doing all morning.

“Of course he did,” Jo Ann said enthusiastically, as though she'd just made an important discovery. “Don't you see? He was being true to character. Didn't more or less the same thing happen between Janice and Michael when they went to the concert?”

Bailey had completely forgotten. “Now that you mention it, yes,” she admitted slowly.

The train arrived. When the screeching came to a halt, Jo Ann said, “I told Parker all about that scene myself, remember?”

Bailey did, vaguely.

“When you sit down to rewrite it, you'll know from experience exactly what Janice was feeling and thinking because those were the very thoughts you experienced yourself. How can you be angry with him?”

Bailey wasn't finding it difficult.

“You should be grateful.”

“I should?”

“Oh, yes,” Jo Ann insisted. “Parker Davidson is more of a hero than either of us realized.”

“D
on't you understand what Parker did?” Jo Ann asked when they met for lunch later that same day. The topic was one she refused to drop.

“You bet I understand. He's a…Neanderthal, only he tried to be polite about it. As if that makes any difference.”

“Wrong,” Jo Ann argued, looking downright mysterious. “He's given you some genuine insight into your character's thoughts and actions.”

“What he did,” Bailey said, waving her spoon above her cream-of-broccoli soup, “was pretty well ruin what started out as a perfect evening.”

“You said he acted like a jealous fool, but you've got to remember that's exactly how Michael reacted when Janice danced with another man.”

“Then he went above and beyond the call of duty, and I'm not about to reward that conduct in a man, hero or not.” She crumbled her soda crackers into her soup, then brushed her palms free of crumbs.

Until Bailey accepted the invitation to dance, her evening with Parker had been wonderfully romantic. They'd sat together holding hands, while the music swirled and floated around them. Then the dancing began and her knight in shining armor turned into a fire-breathing dragon.

“You haven't forgotten the critique group is meeting tonight, have you?” Jo Ann asked, abruptly changing the subject.

Bailey's head was so full of Parker that she had, indeed, forgotten. She'd been absentminded lately. “Tonight?”

“Seven, at Darlene's house. You'll be there, won't you?”

“Of course.” Bailey didn't need to think twice. Every other week, women from their writing group took turns hosting a session in which they evaluated one another's work.

“Oh, good. For a moment I wondered whether you'd be able to come.”

“Why wouldn't I?” Bailey demanded. She was as dedicated as the other writers. She hadn't missed a single meeting since the group was formed two months ago.

“Oh, I thought you might be spending the evening with Parker. You two need to work out your differences. You're going to be miserable until this is resolved.”

Bailey slowly lowered her spoon. “Miserable?” she repeated, giving a brief, slightly hysterical laugh. “Do I look like I'm the least bit heartbroken? Honestly, Jo Ann, you're making a mountain out of a molehill. The two of us had a falling out. I don't want to see him, and I'm sure he feels the same way. I won't have any problem making the group tonight.”

Jo Ann calmly drank her coffee, then just as calmly stated, “You're miserable, only you're too proud to admit it.”

“I am
not
miserable,” Bailey asserted, doing her utmost to smile serenely.

“How much sleep did you get last night?”

“Why? Have I got circles under my eyes?”

“No. Just answer the question.”

Bailey swallowed uncomfortably. “Enough. What's with you? Have you taken up writing mystery novels? Parker Davidson and I had a parting of the ways. It would have happened eventually. Besides, it's better to learn these sorts of things in the beginning of a…relationship.” She shrugged comically. “A bit ironic to have it end on Valentine's Day.”

“So you won't be seeing him again?” Jo Ann made that sound like the most desolate of prospects.

“We probably won't be able to avoid a certain amount of contact, especially while he's taking the subway, but for the record, no. I don't intend to ever go out with him again. He can save his caveman tactics for someone else.”

“Someone else?” Jo Ann filled the two words with tearful sadness. Until Parker, Bailey had seen only the tip of the iceberg when it came to her friend's romantic nature.

Bailey finished her soup and, glancing at her watch, realized she had less than five minutes to get back to the office.

“About tonight—I'll give you a ride,” Jo Ann promised. “I'll be by to pick you up as close to six-thirty as I can. It depends on how fast I can get home and get everyone fed.”

“Thanks,” Bailey said. “I'll see you then.”

They parted and Bailey hurried back to her office. The large vase of red roses on the reception desk was the first thing she noticed when she walked in.

“Is it your birthday, Martha?” she asked as she removed her coat and hung it on the rack.

“I thought it must be yours,” the secretary replied absently.

“Mine?”

“The card has your name on it.”

Bailey's heart went completely still. Had Parker sent her flowers? It seemed too much to hope for, yet…“My name's on the card?”

“A tall good-looking man in a suit delivered them not more than ten minutes ago. He seemed disappointed when I said you'd taken an early lunch. Who is that guy, anyway? He looks vaguely familiar.”

Bailey didn't answer. Instead she removed the envelope and slipped out the card. It read, “Forgive me, Parker.”

She felt the tightness around her heart suddenly ease.

“Oh, I nearly forgot,” Martha said, reaching for a folded slip of paper next to the crystal vase. “Since you weren't here, he left a message for you.”

Carrying the vase with its brilliant red roses in one hand and her message in the other, Bailey walked slowly to her desk. With eager fingers, she unfolded the note.

“Bailey,” it said. “I'm sorry I missed you. We need to talk. Can you have dinner with me tonight? If so, I'll pick you up at seven. Since I'll be tied up most of the afternoon, leave a message with Roseanne.”

He'd written down his office number. Bailey reached for the phone with barely a thought. The friendly—and obviously efficient—receptionist answered on the first ring.

“Hello, Roseanne, this is Bailey York.”

“Oh, Bailey, yes. It's good to hear from you. Mr. Davidson said you'd be phoning.”

“I missed him by only a few minutes.”

“How frustrating for you both. I've been concerned about him this morning.”

“You have?”

“Why, yes. Mr. Davidson came into the office and he couldn't seem to sit still. He got himself a cup of coffee, then two minutes later came out again and poured a second cup. When I pointed out that he already had coffee, he seemed surprised. That was when he started muttering under his breath. I've worked with Mr. Davidson for several years now and I've never known him to mutter.”

“He was probably thinking about something important regarding his work.” Bailey was willing to offer a face-saving excuse for Parker's unprecedented behavior.

“That's not it,” the woman insisted. “He went into his office again and came right back out, asking me if I read romance novels. I have on occasion, and that seemed to satisfy him. He pulled up a chair and began asking me questions about a hero's personality. I answered him as best I could.”

“I'm sure you did very well.”

“I must have, because he cheered right up and asked me what kind of flowers a woman enjoys most. I told him roses, and a minute later, he's looking through my phone book for a florist. Unfortunately no florist could promise a delivery this morning, so he said he'd drop them off personally. He phoned a few minutes ago to tell me you'd be calling in sometime today and that I should take a message.”

“I just got back from lunch.”

So Parker's morning hadn't gone any better than her own, Bailey mused, feeling almost jubilant. She'd managed to put on a good front for Jo Ann, but Bailey had felt terrible. Worse than terrible. She hadn't wanted to discuss her misery, either. It was much easier to pretend that Parker meant nothing to her.

But Jo Ann had been right. She
was
miserable.

“Could you tell Mr. Davidson I'll be ready at seven?” She'd call Jo Ann later and tell her she wouldn't be able to make the critique group, after all.

“Oh, my, that
is
good news,” Roseanne said, sounding absolutely delighted. “I'll pass the message along as soon as he checks in. I'm so pleased. Mr. Davidson is such a dear man, but he works too hard. I've been thinking he needed to meet a nice girl like you. Isn't it incredible that the two of you have known each other for so long?”

“We have?”

“Oh, yes, don't you remember? You came into the office that morning and explained how Mr. Davidson is a friend of your family's. You must have forgotten you'd told me that.”

“Oh. Oh, yes,” Bailey mumbled, embarrassed by the silly lie. “Well, if you'd give him the message, I'd be most grateful.”

“I'll let Mr. Davidson know,” Roseanne said. She hesitated, as though she wanted to add something else and wasn't sure she should. Then, decision apparently made, the words rushed out. “As I said before, I've been with Mr. Davidson for several years and I think you should know that to the best of my knowledge, this is the first time he's ever sent a woman roses.”

 

For the rest of the afternoon, Bailey was walking on air. At five o'clock, she raced into the department store closest to her office, carrying one long-stemmed rose. Within minutes she found a lovely purple-and-gold silk dress. Expensive, but it looked wonderful. Then she hurried to the shoe department and bought a pair of pumps. In accessories, she chose earrings and a matching gold necklace.

From the department store she raced to the subway, clutching her purchases and the single red rose. She'd spent a fortune but didn't bother to calculate how many “easy monthly installments” it would take to pay everything off. Looking nice for Parker was worth the cost. No man had ever sent her roses, and every time she thought about it, her heart positively melted. It was such a
romantic
thing to do. And to think he'd conferred with Roseanne Snyder.

By six-thirty she was almost ready. She needed to brush her hair and freshen her makeup, but that wouldn't take long. She stood in front of the mirror in a model's pose, one hand on her hip, one shoulder thrust forward, studying the overall effect, when there was a knock at the door.

Oh, no! Parker was early. Much too early. It was either shout at him from this side of the door to come back later, or make the best of it. Running her fingers through her hair, she shook her head for the breezy effect and opted to make the best of it.

“Are you ready?” Jo Ann asked, walking inside, her book bag in one hand and her purse in the other. She gaped openly at Bailey's appearance. “Nice,” she said, nodding, “but you might be a touch overdressed for the critique group.”

“Oh, no, I forgot to call you.” How could she have let it slip her mind?

“Call me?”

Bailey felt guilty—an emotion she was becoming increasingly familiar with—for not remembering tonight's arrangement. It was because of Parker. He'd occupied her thoughts from the moment he'd first kissed her.

There had been no kiss last night. The desire—no more than desire, the
need
—for his kiss, his touch had flared into urgent life. Since the breakup with Tom she'd felt frozen, her emotions lying dormant. But under the warmth of Parker's humor and generosity, she thawed a little more each time she saw him.

“Someone sent you a red rose,” Jo Ann said matter-of-factly. She walked farther into the room, lifting the flower to her nose and sniffing appreciatively. “Parker?”

Bailey nodded. “There were a dozen waiting for me when I got back to the office.”

Jo Ann's smile was annoyingly smug.

“He stopped by while I was at lunch—we'd missed each other…” Bailey mumbled in explanation.

Jo Ann circled her, openly admiring the dress. “He's taking you to dinner?” Her gaze fell to the purple suede pumps that perfectly matched the dress.

“Dinner? What gives you that idea?”

“The dress is new.”

“This old thing?” Bailey gave a nervous giggle.

Jo Ann tugged at the price tag dangling from Bailey's sleeve and pulled it free.

“Very funny!” Bailey groaned. She glanced at her watch, hoping Jo Ann would take the hint.

Jo Ann was obviously pleased about Parker's reappearance. “So, you're willing to let bygones be bygones?” she asked in a bracing tone.

“Jo Ann, he's due here any minute.”

Her friend disregarded her pleas. “You're really falling for this guy, aren't you?”

If it was any more obvious, Bailey thought, she'd be wearing a sandwich board and parading in front of his office building. “Yes.”

“Big time?”

“Big time,” Bailey admitted.

“How do you feel about that?”

Bailey was sorely tempted to throw up her arms in abject frustration. “How do you think it makes me feel? I've been jilted twice. I'm scared to death. Now, isn't it time you left?” She coaxed Jo Ann toward the door, but when her friend ignored that broad hint, Bailey gripped her elbow. “Sorry you had to leave so soon, but I'll give your regards to Parker.”

“All right, all right,” Jo Ann said, sighing, “I can take a hint when I hear one.”

Bailey doubted it. “Tell the others that…something came up, but I'll be there next time for sure.” Her hands were at the small of Jo Ann's back, urging her forward. “Goodbye, Jo Ann.”

“I'm going, I'm going,” her friend said from the other side of the threshold. Suddenly earnest, she turned to face Bailey. “Promise me you'll have a good time.”

“I'm sure we will.”
If
she could finish getting ready before Parker arrived.
If
she could subdue her nerves.
If
…

Once Jo Ann was gone, Bailey slammed the door and rushed back to her bathroom. She was dabbing cologne on her wrists when there was a second knock. Inhaling a calming breath, Bailey opened the door, half expecting to find Jo Ann on the other side, ready with more advice.

“Parker,” she whispered unsteadily, as though he was the last person she expected to see.