Be My Valentine (3 page)

“A
ll right,” Steve said dubiously, once the waitress had poured them each a cup of coffee. “How'd we meet?”

Dianne told him, lowering her voice when she came to the part about the low-cal frozen dinners. She found it rather humiliating to have to repeat her private fantasy a second time, especially to Steve.

He looked incredulous when she'd finished. “You've got to be kidding.”

Dianne took offense at his tone. This was
her
romantic invention he was ridiculing, and she hadn't even mentioned the part about the Rimsky-Korsakov symphony or the chiming bells.

“I didn't have time to think of anything better,” Dianne explained irritably. “Jason hit me with the question first thing and I wasn't prepared.”

“What did Jason say when you told him that story?”

“He said you sounded like a flake.”

“I don't blame him.”

Dianne's shoulders sagged with defeat.

“Don't worry about it,” Steve assured her, still frowning. “I'll clear everything up when I meet him Thursday night.” He said it in a way that suggested the task would be difficult.

“Good—only don't make me look like any more of a fool than I already do.”

“I'll try my best,” he said with the same dubious inflection he'd used when they'd first sat down.

Dianne sympathized. This entire affair was quickly going from bad to worse, and there was no one to fault but her. Who would've dreamed finding a date for the Valentine's dinner would cause so many problems?

As they sipped their coffee, Dianne studied the man sitting across from her. She was somewhat surprised to discover that Steve Creighton looked even better the second time around. He was dressed in slacks and an Irish cable-knit sweater the color of winter wheat. His smile was a ready one and his eyes, now that she had a chance to see them in the light, were a deep, rich shade of brown like his hair. The impression he'd given her of a considerate, generous man persisted. He must be. No one else would have agreed to this scheme, at least not without a more substantial inducement.

“I'm afraid I might've painted my kids a picture of you that's not quite accurate,” Dianne admitted. Both her children had been filled with questions about Steve when they'd returned from school that afternoon. Jason had remained skeptical, but Jill, always a romantic—Dianne couldn't imagine where she'd inherited that!—had bombarded her for details.

“I'll do my best to live up to my image,” Steve was quick to assure her.

Placing her elbows on the table, Dianne brushed a thick swatch of hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear. “Listen, I'm sorry I ever got you involved in this.”

“No backing out now—I've laid out cold hard cash for the dinner tickets.”

Which was a not-so-subtle reminder that she owed him for those. She dug through her bag and brought out her checkbook. “I'll write you a check for the tickets right now.”

“I'm not worried.” He dismissed her offer with a wave of his hand.

Nevertheless, Dianne insisted. If she paid him in increments, she wouldn't have to think about how much this fiasco would end up costing her. She had the distinct feeling that by the time the Valentine's dinner was over, she would've spent as much as if she'd taken a Hawaiian vacation. Or gone to Seattle for the weekend, anyway.

After adding her signature, with a flair, to the bottom of the check, she kept her eyes lowered and said, “If I upped the ante ten dollars do you think you could manage to look…besotted?”

“Besotted?” Steve repeated the word as though he'd never heard it before.

“You know, smitten.”

“Smitten?”

Again he made it sound as though she were speaking a foreign language. “Attracted,” she tried for the third time, loud enough to catch the waitress's attention. The woman appeared and splashed more coffee into their nearly full cups.

“I'm not purposely being dense,” he said. “I'm just not sure what you mean.”

“Try to look as though you find me attractive,” she said, leaning halfway across the table and speaking in a heated whisper.

“I see. So that's what ‘besotted' means.” He took another sip of his coffee, and Dianne had the feeling he did so in an effort to hide a smile.

“You aren't supposed to find that amusing.” She took a gulp of her own drink and nearly scalded her mouth. Under different circumstances she would've grimaced with pain, or at least reached for the water glass. She did none of those things. A woman has her pride.

“Let me see if I understand you correctly,” Steve said matter-of-factly. “For an extra ten bucks you want me to look ‘smitten.'”

“Yes,” Dianne answered with as much dignity as she could muster, which at the moment wasn't a lot.

“I'll do it, of course,” Steve said, grinning and making her feel all the more foolish, “only I'm not sure I know how.” He straightened, squared his shoulders and momentarily closed his eyes.

“Steve?” Dianne whispered, glancing around, hoping no one was watching them. He seemed to be attempting some form of Eastern meditation. She half expected him to start chanting. “What are you doing?”

“Thinking about how to look smitten.”

“Are you making fun of me?”

“Not at all. If you're willing to offer me an extra ten bucks, it must be important to you. I want to do it right.”

Dianne thought she'd better tell him. “This isn't for me,” she said. “It's for my ten-year-old daughter, who happens to have a romantic nature. Jill was so impressed with the story of how we supposedly met, that I…I was kind of hoping you'd be willing to…you know.” Now that she was forced to spell it out, Dianne wasn't certain of anything. But she knew one thing—suggesting he look smitten with her had been a mistake.

“I'll try.”

“I'd appreciate it,” she said.

“How's this?” Steve cocked his head at a slight angle, then slowly lowered his eyelids until they were half closed. His mouth curved upward in an off-center smile while his shoulders heaved in what Dianne suspected was meant to be a deep sigh of longing. As though in afterthought, he pressed his open hands over his heart while making soft panting sounds.

“Are you doing an imitation of a Saint Bernard?” Dianne snapped, still not sure whether he was laughing at her. “You look like a…a dog. Maybe Jason's right and you really are a flake.”

“I was trying to look besotted,” Steve said. “I thought that was what you wanted.” As if it would improve the image, he cocked his head the other way and repeated the performance.

“You're making fun of me, and I don't appreciate it one bit.” Dianne tossed her napkin on the table and stood. “Thursday night, six o'clock, and please don't be late.” With that she slipped her purse strap over her shoulder and stalked out of the restaurant.

Steve followed her to her car. “All right, I apologize. I got carried away in there.”

Dianne nodded. She'd gone a little overboard herself, but not nearly as much as Steve. Although she claimed she wanted him to give the impression of being attracted to her for Jill's sake, that wasn't entirely true. Steve was handsome and kind, and to have him looking at her with his heart in his eyes was a fantasy that was strictly her own.

Admitting that, even to herself, was a shock. The walls around her battered heart had been reinforced by three years of loneliness. For reasons she couldn't really explain, this tow-truck driver made her feel vulnerable.

“I'm willing to try again if you want,” he said. “Only…”

“Yes?” Her car was parked in the rear lot where the lighting wasn't nearly as good. Steve's face was hidden in the shadows, and she couldn't tell if he was being sincere or not.

“The problem,” he replied slowly, “comes from the fact that we haven't kissed. I don't mean to be forward, you understand. You want me to wear a certain look, but it's a little difficult to manufacture without having had any, er, physical closeness.”

“I see.” Dianne's heart was pounding hard enough to damage her rib cage.

“Are you willing to let me kiss you?”

It was a last resort and she didn't have much choice. But she didn't have anything to lose, either. “If you insist.”

With a deep breath, she tilted her head to the right, shut her eyes and puckered up. After waiting what seemed an inordinate amount of time, she opened her eyes. “Is something wrong?”

“I can't do it.”

Embarrassed in the extreme, Dianne set her hands on her hips. “What do you mean?”

“You look like you're about to be sacrificed to appease the gods.”

“I beg your pardon!” Dianne couldn't believe she was hearing him correctly. Talk about humiliation—she was only doing what he'd suggested.

“I can't kiss a woman who acts like she's about to undergo the most revolting experience of her life.”

“You're saying I'm…oh…oh!” Too furious to speak, Dianne gripped Steve by the elbow and jerked him over to where his tow truck was parked, a couple of spaces down from her own car. Hopping onto the running board, she glared down at him. Her higher vantage point made her feel less vulnerable. Her eyes flashed with anger; his were filled with mild curiosity.

“Dianne, what are you doing now?”

“I'll have you know I was quite a kisser in my time.”

“I don't doubt it.”

“You just did. Now listen and listen well, because I'm only going to say this once.” Waving her index finger under his nose, she paused and lowered her hand abruptly. He was right, she hadn't been all that thrilled to fall into this little experiment. A kiss was an innocent-enough exchange, she supposed, but kissing Steve put her on the defensive. And that troubled her.

“Say it.”

Self-conscious now, she shifted her gaze and stepped off the running board, feeling ridiculous.

“What was so important that you were waving your finger under my nose?” Steve pressed.

Since she'd made such a fuss, she didn't have any alternative but to finish what she'd begun. “When I was in high school…the boys used to like to kiss me.”

“They still would,” Steve said softly, “if you'd give them a little encouragement.”

She looked up at him and had to blink back unexpected tears. A woman doesn't have her husband walk out on her and not find herself awash in pain and self-doubt. Once she'd been confident; now she was dubious and insecure.

“Here,” Steve said, holding her by the shoulders. “Let's try this.” Then he gently, sweetly slanted his mouth over hers. Dianne was about to protest when their lips met and the option to refuse was taken from her.

Mindlessly she responded. Her arms slid around his middle and her hands splayed across the hard muscles of his back. And suddenly, emotions that had been simmering just below the surface rose like a tempest within her, and her heart went on a rampage.

Steve buried his hands in her hair, his fingers twisting and tangling in its thickness, bunching it at the back of her head. His mouth was soft, yet possessive. She gave a small, shocked moan when his tongue breached the barrier of her lips, but she adjusted quickly to the deepening quality of his kiss.

Reluctantly, Steve eased his mouth from hers. For a long moment, Dianne didn't open her eyes. When she finally did, she found Steve staring down at her.

He blinked.

She blinked.

Then, in the space of a heartbeat, he lowered his mouth back to hers.

Unable to stop, Dianne sighed deeply and leaned into his strength. Her legs felt like mush and her head was spinning with confusion. Her hands crept up and closed around the folds of his collar.

This kiss was long and thorough. It was the sweetest kiss Dianne had ever known—and the most passionate.

When he lifted his mouth from hers, he smiled tenderly. “I don't believe I'll have any problem looking besotted,” he whispered.

“S
teve's here!” Jason called, releasing the living-room curtain. “He just pulled into the driveway.”

Jill's high-pitched voice echoed her brother's. “He brought his truck. It's red and—”

“—wicked,” Jason said, paying Steve's choice of vehicles the highest form of teenage compliment.

“What did I tell you,” Dianne's mother said, as she briskly stirred the stroganoff sauce. “He's driving a truck that's red and wicked.” Her voice rose hysterically. “The man's probably a spawn of the devil!”

“Mother, ‘wicked' means ‘wonderful' to Jason.”

“I've never heard anything so absurd in my life.”

The doorbell chimed just then. Unfastening the apron from around her waist and tossing it aside, Dianne straightened and walked into the wide entryway. Jason, Jill and her mother followed closely, crowding her.

“Mom, please,” Dianne pleaded, “give me some room here. Jason. Jill. Back up a little would you?”

All three moved several paces back, allowing Dianne some space. But the moment her hand went for the doorknob, they crowded forward again.

“Children, Ma, please!” she whispered frantically. The three were so close to her she could barely breathe.

Reluctantly Jason and Jill shuffled into the living room and slumped onto the sofa near the television set. Martha, however, refused to budge.

The bell chimed a second time, and after glaring at her mother and receiving no response, Dianne opened the door. On the other side of the screen door stood Steve, a huge bouquet of red roses in one hand and a large stuffed bear tucked under his other arm.

Dianne stared as she calculated the cost of long-stemmed roses, and a stuffed animal. She couldn't even afford carnations. And if he felt it necessary to bring along a stuffed bear, why hadn't he chosen a smaller, less costly one?

“May I come in?” he asked after a lengthy pause.

Her mother elbowed Dianne in the ribs and smiled serenely as she unlatched the lock on the screen door.

“You must be Steve. How lovely to meet you,” Martha said as graciously as if she'd always thought the world of truck drivers.

Holding the outer door for him, Dianne managed to produce a weak smile as Steve entered her home. Jason and Jill had come back into the hallway to stand next to their grandmother, eyeing Dianne's newfound date with open curiosity. For all her son's concern that Steve might turn out to be an ax-murderer, one look at the bright red tow truck and he'd been won over.

“Steve, I'd like you to meet my family,” Dianne said, gesturing toward the three.

“So, you're Jason,” Steve said, holding out his hand. The two exchanged a hearty handshake. “I'm pleased to meet you. Your mother speaks highly of you.”

Jason beamed.

Turning his attention to Jill, Steve held out the oversize teddy bear. “This is for you,” he said, giving her the stuffed animal. “I wanted something extra-special for Dianne's daughter, but this was all I could think of. I hope you aren't disappointed.”

“I
love
teddy bears!” Jill cried, hugging it tight. “Did Mom tell you that?”

“Nope,” Steve said, centering his high-voltage smile on the ten-year-old. “I just guessed.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you.” Cuddling the bear, Jill raced up the stairs, giddy with delight. “I'm going to put him on my bed right now.”

Steve's gaze followed her daughter, and then his eyes briefly linked with Dianne's. In that split second, she let him know she wasn't entirely pleased. He frowned slightly, but recovered before presenting the roses to Dianne's mother.

“For me?” Martha brought her fingertips to her mouth as though shocked by the gesture. “Oh, you shouldn't have! Oh, my heavens, I can't remember the last time a man gave me roses.” Reaching for the corner of her apron, she discreetly dabbed her eyes. “This is such a treat.”

“Mother, don't you want to put those in water?” Dianne said pointedly.

“Oh, dear, I suppose I should. It was a thoughtful gesture, Steve. Very thoughtful.”

“Jason, go help your grandmother.”

Her son looked as though he intended to object, but changed his mind and obediently followed Martha into the kitchen.

As soon as they were alone, Dianne turned on Steve. “Don't you think you're laying it on a little thick?” she whispered. She was so furious she was having trouble speaking clearly. “I can't afford all this!”

“Don't worry about it.”

“I am worried. In fact I'm experiencing a good deal of distress. At the rate you're spending my money, I'm going to have to go on an installment plan.”

“Hush, now, before you attract everyone's attention.”

Dianne scowled at him. “I—”

Steve placed his fingers over her lips. “I've learned a very effective way of keeping you quiet—don't force me to use it. Kissing you so soon after my arrival might create the wrong impression.”

“You wouldn't dare!”

The way his mouth slanted upward in a slow smile made her afraid he would. “I was only doing my best to act besotted,” he said.

“You didn't have to spend this much money doing it. Opening my door, holding out my chair—that's all I wanted. First you roll your eyes like you're going into a coma and pant like a Saint Bernard, then you spend a fortune.”

“Dinner's ready,” Martha shouted from the kitchen.

With one last angry glare, Dianne led him into the big kitchen. Steve moved behind Dianne's chair and pulled it out for her. “Are you happy now?” he whispered close to her ear as she sat down.

She nodded, thinking it was too little, too late, but she didn't have much of an argument since she'd specifically asked for this.

Soon the five were seated around the wooden table. Dianne's mother said the blessing, and while she did, Dianne offered up a fervent prayer of her own. She wanted Steve to make a good impression—but not too good.

After the buttered noodles and the stroganoff had been passed around, along with a lettuce-and-cucumber salad and homemade rolls, Jason embarked on the topic that had apparently been troubling him from the first.

“Mom said you met at the grocery store.”

Steve nodded. “She was blocking the aisle and I had to ask her to move her cart so I could get to the Hearty Eater Pot Pies.”

Jason straightened in his chair, looking more than a little satisfied. “I thought it might be something like that.”

“I beg your pardon?” Steve asked, playing innocent.

Her son cleared his throat, glanced carefully around before answering, then lowered his voice. “You should hear Mom's version of how you two met.”

“More noodles?” Dianne said, shoving the bowl toward her son.

Jill looked confused. “But didn't you smile at Mom and say she's perfect just the way she is?”

Steve took a moment to compose his thoughts while he buttered his third dinner roll. Dianne recognized that he was doing a balancing act between her two children. If he said he'd commented on the low-cal frozen dinners and her figure, then he risked offending Jason, who seemed to think no man in his right mind would say something like that. On the other hand, if he claimed otherwise, he might wound Jill's romantic little heart.

“I'd be interested in knowing that myself,” Martha added, looking pleased that Steve had taken a second helping of her stroganoff. “Dianne's terribly closemouthed about these things. She didn't even mention you until the other night.”

“To be honest,” Steve said, sitting back in his chair, “I don't exactly recall what I said to Dianne. I remember being irritated with her for hogging the aisle, but when I asked her to move, she apologized and immediately pushed her cart out of the way.”

Jason nodded, appeased.

“But when I got a good look at her, I couldn't help thinking she was the most beautiful woman I'd seen in a long while.”

Jill sighed, mollified.

“I don't recall any of that,” Dianne said, reaching for another roll. She tore it apart with a vengeance and smeared butter on both halves before she realized she had an untouched roll balanced on the edge of her plate.

“I was thinking that after dinner I'd take Jason out for a ride in the truck,” Steve said when a few minutes had passed.

“You'd do that?” Jason nearly leapt from his chair in his eagerness.

“I was planning to all along,” Steve explained. “I thought you'd be more interested in seeing how all the gears worked than in any gift I could bring you.”

“I am.” Jason was so excited he could barely sit still.

“When Jason and I come back, I'll take you out for a spin, Dianne.”

She shook her head. “I'm not interested, thanks.”

Three pairs of accusing eyes flashed in her direction. It was as if she'd committed an act of treason.

“I'm sure my daughter didn't mean that,” Martha said, smiling sweetly at Steve. “She's been very tired lately and not quite herself.”

Bewildered, Dianne stared at her mother.

“Can we go now?” Jason asked, already standing.

“If your mother says it's okay,” Steve said, with a glance at Dianne. She nodded, and Steve finished the last of his roll and stood.

“I'll have apple pie ready for you when you get back,” Martha promised, quickly ushering the two out the front door.

As soon as her mother returned to the kitchen, Dianne asked, “What was all that about?”

“What?” her mother demanded, feigning ignorance.

“That I've been very tired and not myself lately?”

“Oh, that,” Martha said, clearing the table. “Steve wants to spend a few minutes alone with you. It's only natural. So I had to make some excuse for you.”

“Yes, but—”

“Your behavior, my dear, was just short of rude. When a gentleman makes it clear he wants to spend some uninterrupted time in your company, you should welcome the opportunity.”

“Mother, I seem to recall your saying Steve was a spawn of the devil, remember?”

“Now that I've met him, I've had a change of heart.”

“What about Jerome, the butcher? I thought you were convinced he was the one for me.”

“I like Steve better. I can tell he's a good man, and you'd be a fool to let him slip through your fingers by pretending to be indifferent.”

“I am indifferent.”

With a look of patent disbelief, Martha Janes shook her head. “I saw the way your eyes lit up when Steve walked into the house. You can fool some folks, but you can't pull the wool over your own mother's eyes. You're falling in love with this young man, and frankly, I'm pleased. I like him.”

Dianne frowned. If her eyes had lit up when Steve arrived, it was because she was busy trying to figure out a way to repay him for the roses and the teddy bear. What she felt for him wasn't anything romantic. Or was it?

Dear Lord, she couldn't actually be falling for this guy, could she?

The question haunted Dianne as she loaded the dishwasher.

“Steve's real cute,” Jill announced. Her daughter would find Attila the Hun cute, too, if he brought her a teddy bear, but Dianne resisted the impulse to say so.

“He looks a little bit like Hugh Jackman, don't you think?” Jill continued.

“I can't say I've noticed.” A small lie. Dianne had noticed a lot more about Steve than she was willing to admit. Although she'd issued a fair number of complaints, he really was being a good sport about this. Of course, she was paying him, but he'd gone above and beyond the call of duty. Taking Jason out for a spin in the tow truck was one example, although why anyone would be thrilled to drive around in that contraption was something Dianne didn't understand.

“I do believe Steve Creighton will make you a decent husband,” her mother stated thoughtfully as she removed the warm apple pie from the oven. “In fact, I was just thinking how nice it would be to have a summer wedding. It's so much easier to ask relatives to travel when the weather's good. June or July would be perfect.”

“Mother, please! Steve and I barely know each other.”

“On the contrary,” Steve said, sauntering into the kitchen. He stepped behind Dianne's mother and sniffed appreciatively at the aroma wafting from her apple pie. “I happen to be partial to summer weddings myself.”