Be My Valentine (5 page)

S
teve Creighton had made a fool of her.

Dianne was so infuriated she couldn't wait to be alone with him so she could give him a piece of her mind. Loudly.

“What's that got to do with anything?” Steve asked.

Dianne continued to glare at him, unable to form any words yet. It wasn't just that he owned the towing company or even that he was a member of the board of directors for the community center. It was the fact that he'd deceived her.

“You should've told me you owned the company!” she hissed.

“I gave you my business card,” he said, shrugging.

“You gave me your business card,” she mimicked in a furious whisper. “The least you could've done was mention it. I feel like an idiot.”

Steve was wearing a perplexed frown, as if he found her response completely unreasonable. “To be honest, I assumed you knew. I wasn't purposely keeping it from you.”

That wasn't the only thing disturbing her, but the second concern was even more troubling than the first. “While I'm on the subject, what are you? Some sort of…love god?”

“What?”

“From the moment we arrived all the women I know, and even some I don't, have been crowding around me asking all sorts of leading questions. One friend claims you make her toes curl and another…never mind.”

Steve looked exceptionally pleased. “I make her toes curl?”

How like a man to fall for flattery! “That's not the point.”

“Then what is?”

“Everyone thinks you and I are an item.”

“So? I thought that's what you wanted.”

Dianne felt like screaming. “Kindly look at this from my point of view. I'm in one hell of a mess because of you!” He frowned as she went on. “What am I supposed to tell everyone, including my mother and children, once tonight is over?” Why, oh why hadn't she thought of this sooner?

“About what?”

“About you and me,” she said slowly, using short words so he'd understand. “I didn't even
want
to attend this dinner. I've lied to my own family and, worse, I'm actually paying a man to escort me. This is probably the lowest point of my life, and all you can do is stand there with a silly grin.”

Steve chuckled and his mouth twitched. “This silly grin you find so offensive is my besotted look. I've been practicing it in front of a mirror all week.”

Dianne covered her face with her hands. “Now…now I discover that I'm even more of a fool than I realized. You're this upstanding businessman and, worse, a…a playboy.”

“I'm not a playboy,” he corrected. “And that's a pretty dated term, anyway.”

“Maybe—but that's the reputation you seem to have. There isn't a woman at this dinner who doesn't envy me.”

All she'd wanted was someone presentable to escort her to this dinner so she could satisfy her children. She lived a quiet, uncomplicated life, and suddenly she was the most gossip-worthy member of tonight's affair.

Sam Horton stepped to the microphone in front of the hall and announced that dinner was about to be served, so would everyone please go to their tables.

“Don't look so discontented,” Steve whispered in her ear. He was standing behind her, and his hands rested gently on her shoulders. “The woman who's supposed to be the envy of every other one here shouldn't be frowning. Try smiling.”

“I don't think I can,” she muttered, fearing she might break down and cry. Being casually held by Steve wasn't helping. She found his touch reassuring and comforting when she didn't want either, at least not from him. She was confused enough. Her head was telling her one thing and her heart another.

“Trust me, Dianne, you're blowing this out of proportion. I didn't mean to deceive you. Let's just enjoy the evening.”

“I feel like such a fool,” she muttered again. Several people walked past them on their way to the tables, pausing to smile and nod. Dianne did her best to respond appropriately.

“You're not a fool.” He slipped his arm around her waist and led her toward the table where Sam and his wife, as well as two other couples Dianne didn't know, were waiting.

Dianne smiled at the others while Steve held out her chair. A gentleman to the very end, she observed wryly. He opened doors and held out chairs for her, and the whole time she was making an idiot of herself in front of the entire community.

As soon as everyone was seated, he introduced Dianne to the two remaining couples—Larry and Louise Lester, who owned a local restaurant, and Dale and Maryanne Atwater. Dale was head of the town's most prominent accounting firm.

The salads were delivered by young men in crisp white jackets. The Lesters and the Atwaters were discussing the weather and other bland subjects. Caught in her own churning thoughts, Dianne ate her salad and tuned them out. When she was least expecting it, she heard her name. She glanced up to find six pairs of eyes studying her. She had no idea why.

She lowered the fork to her salad plate and glanced at Steve, praying he'd know what was going on.

“The two of you make such a handsome couple,” Renée Horton said. Her words were casual, but her expression wasn't. Everything about her said she was intensely curious about Steve and Dianne.

“Thank you.” Steve answered, then turned to Dianne and gave her what she'd referred to earlier as a silly grin and what he'd said was his besotted look.

“How did you two meet?” Maryanne Atwater asked nonchalantly.

“Ah…” Dianne's mind spun, lost in a haze of half-truths and misconceptions. She didn't know if she dared repeat the story about meeting in the local grocery, but she couldn't think fast enough to come up with anything else. She thought she was prepared, but the moment she was in the spotlight, all her self-confidence deserted her.

“We both happened to be in the grocery store at the same time,” Steve explained smoothly. The story had been repeated so often it was beginning to sound like the truth.

“I was blocking Steve's way in the frozen-food section,” she said, picking up his version of the story. She felt embarrassed seeing the three other couples listening so intently to their fabrication.

“I asked Dianne to kindly move her cart, and she stopped to apologize for being so thoughtless. Before I knew it, we'd struck up a conversation.”

“I was there!” Louise Lester threw her hands wildly in the air, her blue eyes shining. “That was the two of you? I saw the whole thing!” She dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin and checked to be sure she had everyone's attention before continuing. “I swear it was the most romantic thing I've ever seen.”

“It certainly was,” Steve added, smiling over at Dianne, who restrained herself from kicking him in the shin, although it was exactly what he deserved.

“Steve's cart inadvertently bumped into Dianne's,” Louise went on, grinning broadly at Steve.

“Inadvertently, Steve?” Sam Horton teased, chuckling loudly enough to attract attention. Crazy though it was, it seemed that everyone in the entire community center had stopped eating in order to hear Louise tell her story.

“At any rate,” Louise said, “the two of them stopped to chat, and I swear it was like watching a romantic comedy. Naturally Dianne apologized—she hadn't realized she was blocking the aisle. Then Steve started sorting through the stuff in her cart, teasing her. We all know how Steve enjoys kidding around.”

The others shook their heads, their affection for their friend obvious.

“She was buying all these diet dinners,” Steve said, ignoring Dianne's glare. “I told her she couldn't possibly be buying them for herself.”

The three women at the table sighed audibly. It was all Dianne could do not to slide off her chair and disappear under the table.

“That's not the best part,” Louise said, beaming with pride at the attention she was garnering. A dreamy look stole over her features. “They must've stood and talked for ages. I'd finished my shopping and just happened to stroll past them several minutes later, and they were still there. It was when I was standing in the checkout line that I noticed them coming down the aisle side by side, each pushing a grocery cart. It was so cute, I half expected someone to start playing a violin.”

“How sweet,” Renée Horton whispered.

“I thought so myself and I mentioned it to Larry once I got home. Remember, honey?”

Larry nodded obligingly. “Louise must've told me that story two or three times that night,” her husband reported.

“I just didn't know it was you, Steve. Imagine, out of all the people to run into at the grocery store, I happened to stumble upon you and Dianne the first time you met. Life is so ironic, isn't it?”

“Oh, yes, life is very ironic,” Dianne said. Steve sent her a subtle smile, and she couldn't hold back an answering grin.

“It was one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen,” Louise finished.

 

“Can you believe that Louise Lester?” Steve said later. They were sitting in his luxury sedan waiting for their turn to pull out of the crowded parking lot.

“No,” Dianne said simply. She'd managed to make it through the rest of the dinner, but it had demanded every ounce of poise and self-control she possessed. From the moment they'd walked in the front door until the time Steve helped her put on her coat at the end of the evening, they'd been the center of attention. And the main topic of conversation.

Like a bumblebee visiting a flower garden, Louise Lester had breezed from one dinner table to the next, spreading the story of how Dianne and Steve had met and how she'd been there to witness every detail.

“I've never been so…” Dianne couldn't think of a word that quite described how she'd felt. “This may have been the worst evening of my life.” She slumped against the back of the seat and covered her eyes.

“I thought you had a good time.”

“How could I?” she cried, dropping her hand long enough to glare at him. “The first thing I get hit with is that you're some rich playboy.”

“Come on, Dianne. Just because I happen to own a business doesn't mean I'm rolling in money.”

“Port Blossom Towing is one of the fastest-growing enterprises in Kitsap County,” she said, repeating what Sam Horton had been happy to tell her. “What I don't understand is why my mother hasn't heard of you. She's been on the lookout for eligible men for months. It's a miracle she didn't—” Dianne stopped abruptly.

“What?”

“My mother was looking all right, but she was realistic enough to stay in my own social realm. You're a major-league player. The only men my mother knows are in the minors—butchers, teachers, everyday sort of guys.”

Now that she thought about it, however, her mother had seemed to recognize Steve's name when Dianne first mentioned it. She probably
had
heard of him, but couldn't remember where.

“Major-league player? That's a ridiculous analogy.”

“It isn't. And to think I approached you, offering you money to take me to this dinner.” Humiliation washed over her again, then gradually receded. “I have one question—why didn't you already have a date?” The dinner had been only five days away, so surely the most eligible bachelor in town, a man who could have his choice of women, would've had a date!

He shrugged. “I'm not seeing anyone.”

“I bet you got a good laugh when I offered to pay you.” Not to mention the fact that she'd made such a fuss over his owning a proper suit.

“As a matter of fact, I was flattered.”

“No doubt.”

“Are you still upset?”

“You could say that, yes.”
Upset
was putting it mildly.

Since Dianne's house was only a couple of miles from the community center, she reached for her purse and checkbook. She waited until he pulled into the driveway before writing a check and handing it to him.

“What's this?” Steve asked.

“What I owe you. Since I didn't know the exact cost of Jill's stuffed animal, I made an educated guess. The cost of the roses varies from shop to shop, so I took an average price.”

“I don't think you should pay me until the evening's over,” he said, opening his car door.

As far as Dianne was concerned, it had been over the minute she'd learned who he was. When he came around to her side of the car and opened her door, she said, “Just what are you planning now?” He led her by the hand to the front of the garage, which was illuminated by a floodlight. They stood facing each other, his hands on her shoulders.

She frowned, gazing up at him. “I fully intend to give you your money's worth,” he replied.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Jason, Jill and your mother.”

“What about them?”

“They're peering out the front window waiting for me to kiss you, and I'm not going to disappoint them.”

“Oh, no, you don't,” she objected. But the moment his eyes held hers, all her anger drained away. Then, slowly, as though he recognized the change in her, he lowered his head. Dianne knew he was going to kiss her, and in the same instant she knew she wouldn't do anything to stop him….

“Y
ou have the check?” Dianne asked once her head was clear enough for her to think again. It was a struggle to pull herself free from the magic Steve wove so easily around her.

Steve pulled the check she'd written from his suit pocket. Then, without ceremony, he tore it in two. “I never intended to accept a penny.”

“You have to! We agreed—”

“I want to see you again,” he said, clasping her shoulders firmly and looking intently at her.

Dianne was struck dumb. If he'd announced he was an alien, visiting from the planet Mars, he couldn't have surprised her more. Not knowing what to say, she eyed him speculatively. “You're kidding, aren't you?”

A smile flitted across his lips as though he'd anticipated her reaction. The left side of his mouth rose slightly higher in that lazy, off-center grin of his. “I've never been more serious in my life.”

Now that the shock had worn off, it took Dianne all of one second to decide. “Naturally, I'm flattered—but no.”

“No?” Steve was clearly taken aback, and he needed a second or two to compose himself. “Why not?”

“After tonight you need to ask?”

“Apparently so,” he said, stepping away from her a little. He paused and shoved his fingers through his hair with enough force to make Dianne flinch. “I can't believe you,” he muttered. “The first time we kissed I realized we had something special. I thought you felt it, too.”

Dianne couldn't deny it, but she wasn't about to admit it, either. She lowered her gaze, refusing to meet the hungry intensity of his eyes.

When she didn't respond, Steve continued, “I have no intention of letting you out of my life. In case you haven't figured it out yet—and obviously you haven't—I'm crazy about you, Dianne.”

Unexpected tears clouded her vision as she gazed up at him. She rubbed her hands against her eyes and sniffled. This wasn't supposed to be happening. She wanted the break to be clean and final. No discussion. No tears.

Steve was handsome and ambitious, intelligent and charming. If anyone deserved an SYT, it was this oh-so-eligible bachelor. She'd been married, and her life was complicated by two children and a manipulative mother.

“Say something,” he demanded. “Don't just stand there looking at me with tears in your eyes.”

“Th-these aren't tears. They're…” Dianne couldn't finish as fresh tears scalded her eyes.

“Tomorrow afternoon,” he said, his voice gentle, “I'll stop by the house, and you and the kids and I can all go to a movie. You can bring your mother, too, if you want.”

Dianne managed to swallow a sob. “That's the lowest, meanest thing you've ever suggested.”

He frowned. “Taking you and the kids to a movie?”

“Y-yes. You're using my own children against me and that's—”

“Low and mean,” he finished, scowling more fiercely. “All right, if you don't want to involve Jason and Jill, then just the two of us will go.”

“I already said no.”

“Why?”

Her shoulders trembled slightly as she smeared the moisture across her cheek. “I'm divorced.” She said it as if it had been a well-kept secret and no one but her mother and children were aware of it.

“So?” He was still scowling.

“I have children.”

“I know that, too. You're not making a lot of sense, Dianne.”

“It's not that—exactly. You can date any woman you want.”

“I want to date
you.
”

“No!” She was trembling from the inside out. She tried to compose herself, but it was hopeless with Steve standing so close, looking as though he was going to reach for her and kiss her again.

When she was reasonably sure she wouldn't crumble under the force of her fascination with him, she looked him in the eye. “I'm flattered, really I am, but it wouldn't work.”

“You don't know that.”

“But I do, I do. We're not even in the same league, you and I, and this whole thing has got completely out of hand.” She stood a little straighter, as though the extra inch in height would help. “The deal was I pay you to escort me to the Valentine's dinner—but then I had to go and complicate matters by suggesting you look smitten with me and you did such a good job of it that you've convinced yourself you're attracted to me and you aren't. You couldn't be.”

“Because you're divorced and have two children,” he repeated incredulously.

“You're forgetting my manipulative mother.”

Steve clenched his fists at his sides. “I haven't forgotten her. In fact, I'm grateful to her.”

Dianne narrowed her eyes. “Now I
know
you can't be serious.”

“Your mother's a real kick, and your kids are great, and in case you're completely blind, I think you're pretty wonderful yourself.”

Dianne fumbled with the pearls at her neck, twisting the strand between her fingers. The man who stood before her was every woman's dream, but she didn't know what was right anymore. She knew only one thing. After the way he'd humiliated her this evening, after the way he'd let her actually pay him to take her to the Valentine's dinner, make a total fool of herself, there was no chance she could see him again.

“I don't think so,” she said stiffly. “Goodbye, Steve.”

“You really mean it, don't you?”

She was already halfway to the front door. “Yes.”

“All right. Fine,” he said, slicing the air with his hands. “If this is the way you want it, then fine, just fine.” With that he stormed off to his car.

 

Dianne knew her family would give her all kinds of flack. The minute she walked in the door, Jason and Jill barraged her with questions about the dinner. Dianne was as vague as possible and walked upstairs to her room, pleading exhaustion. There must have been something in her eyes that convinced her mother and children to leave her alone, because no one disturbed her again that night.

She awoke early the next morning, feeling more than a little out of sorts. Jason was already up, eating a huge bowl of cornflakes at the kitchen table.

“Well,” he said, when Dianne walked into the kitchen, “when are you going to see Steve again?”

“Uh, I don't know.” She put on a pot of coffee, doing her best to shove every thought of her dinner companion from her mind. And not succeeding.

“He wants to go out on another date with you, doesn't he?”

“Uh, I'm not sure.”

“You're not sure?” Jason asked. “How come? I saw you two get mushy last night. I like Steve. He's fun.”

“Yes, I know,” she said, standing in front of the machine while the coffee dripped into the glass pot. Her back was to her son. “Let's give it some time. See how things work out,” she mumbled.

To Dianne's relief, he seemed to accept that and didn't question her further. That, however, wasn't the case with her mother.

“So talk to me,” Martha insisted later that day, working her crochet hook as she sat in the living room with Dianne. “You've been very quiet.”

“No, I haven't.” Dianne didn't know why she denied it. Her mother was right, she had been introspective.

“The phone isn't ringing. The phone should be ringing.”

“Why's that?”

“Steve. He met your mother, he met your children, he took you out to dinner…”

“You make it sound like we should be discussing wedding plans.” Dianne had intended to be flippant, but the look her mother gave her said she shouldn't joke about something so sacred.

“When are you seeing him again?” Her mother tugged on her ball of yarn when Dianne didn't immediately answer, as if that might bring forth a response.

“We're both going to be busy for the next few days.”

“Busy? You're going to let busy interfere with love?”

Dianne ignored the question. It was easier that way. Her mother plied her with questions on and off for the rest of the day, but after repeated attempts to get something more out of her daughter and not succeeding, Martha reluctantly let the matter drop.

 

Three days after the Valentine's dinner, Dianne was shopping after work at a grocery store on the other side of town—she avoided going anywhere near the one around which she and Steve had fabricated their story—when she ran into Beth Martin.

“Dianne,” Beth called, racing down the aisle after her. Darn, Dianne thought. The last person she wanted to chitchat with was Beth, who would, no doubt, be filled with questions about her and Steve.

She was.

“I've been meaning to phone you all week,” Beth said, her smile so sweet Dianne felt as if she'd fallen into a vat of honey.

“Hello, Beth.” She made a pretense of scanning the grocery shelf until she realized she was standing in front of the disposable-diaper section. She jerked away as though she'd been burned.

Beth's gaze followed Dianne's. “You know, you're not too old to have more children,” she said. “What are you? Thirty-three, thirty-four?”

“Around that.”

“If Steve wanted children, you could—”

“I have no intention of marrying Steve Creighton,” Dianne answered testily. “We're nothing more than friends.”

Beth arched her eyebrows. “My dear girl, that's not what I've heard. All of Port Blossom is buzzing with talk about the two of you. Steve's been such an elusive bachelor. He dates a lot of women, or so I've heard, but from what everyone's saying, and I do mean
everyone,
you've got him hooked. Why, the way he was looking at you on Saturday night was enough to bring tears to my eyes. I don't know what you did to that man, but he's yours for the asking.”

“I'm sure you're mistaken.” Dianne couldn't very well announce that she'd paid Steve to look besotted. He'd done such a good job of it, he'd convinced himself and everyone else that he was head over heels in love with her.

Beth grinned. “I don't think so.”

As quickly as she could, Dianne made her excuses, paid for her groceries and hurried home. Home, she soon discovered, wasn't exactly a haven. Jason and Jill were waiting for her, and it wasn't because they were eager to carry in the grocery sacks.

“It's been three days,” Jill said. “Shouldn't you have heard from Steve by now?”

“If he doesn't phone you, then you should call him,” Jason insisted. “Girls do that sort of thing all the time now, no matter what Grandma says.”

“I…” Dianne looked for an escape. Of course there wasn't one.

“Here's his card,” Jason said, taking it from the corner of the bulletin board. “Call him.”

Dianne stared at the raised red lettering. Port Blossom Towing, it said, with the phone number in large numbers below. In the corner, in smaller, less-pronounced lettering, was Steve's name, followed by one simple word:
owner.

Dianne's heart plummeted and she closed her eyes. He'd really meant it when he said he had never intentionally misled her. He assumed she knew, and with good reason. The business card he'd given her spelled it out. Only she hadn't noticed…

“Mom.” Jason's voice fragmented her introspection.

She opened her eyes to see her son and daughter staring up at her, their eyes, so like her own, intent and worried.

“What are you going to do?” Jill wanted to know.

“W.A.R.”

“Aerobics?” Jason said. “What for?”

“I need it,” Dianne answered. And she did. She'd learned long ago that when something was weighing on her, heavy-duty exercise helped considerably. It cleared her mind. She didn't enjoy it, exactly; pain rarely thrilled her. But the aerobics classes at the community center had seen her through more than one emotional trauma. If she hurried, she could be there for the last session of the afternoon.

“Kids, put those groceries away for me, will you?” she said, heading for the stairs, yanking the sweater over her head as she raced. The buttons on her blouse were too time-consuming, so she peeled that over her head the moment she entered the bedroom, closing the door with her foot.

In five minutes flat, she'd changed into her leotard, kissed the kids and was out the door. She had a small attack of guilt when she pulled out of the driveway and glanced back to see both her children standing on the porch looking dejected.

The warm-up exercises had already begun when Dianne joined the class. For the next hour she leapt, kicked, bent and stretched, doing her best to keep up with everyone else. By the end of the session, she was exhausted—and no closer to deciding whether or not to phone Steve.

With a towel draped around her neck, she walked out to her car. Her cardiovascular system might've been fine, but nothing else about her was. She searched through her purse for her keys and then checked her coat pocket.

Nothing.

Dread filled her. Framing the sides of her face with her hands, she peered inside the car. There, innocently poking out of the ignition, were her keys.