Books by Maggie Shayne (51 page)

Hell, maybe it was better to pretend he didn’t know her identity. But one thing was certain. He
had
to see her again. He had to.

While Kayla took her turn in the shower, Martha Jane slipped into her bedroom, closed the door, put on her glasses, and took Richard’s note from her pocket.

Valentine,

I have to see you again. I’ve never met anyone like you before, and I want to know you. I’m not talking about sharing secrets here, or even unmasking you. But... you fascinate me. And I want to see you again. No more than that. Meet me tonight, at midnight, at the fountain in the park. I’ll be there. I’ll wait for you.

Richard

Martha Jane stared at the note, striving to read more into it than what was there. What did it mean? Why would he want to meet her outdoors, in the middle of February? She couldn’t very well show up in a negligee there. What did he want from her? She swallowed hard, trying with everything in her not to believe she meant any more to him than any of his other one-night stands. She knew her ex-boss. She’d seen him go through women like selections on a dessert tray. A different flavor every time. She was no more to him than a new flavor. If she let herself think she was, she’d be in for a broken heart.

Besides, the note made it pretty clear. It was one more round of sex he wanted. Nothing more. At least he hadn’t written “bring the handcuffs.”

Kayla was right. He really was a bastard. Martha Jane swallowed hard. She loved the bastard. Had for months now.

The telephone shrilled, breaking into her thoughts. Absently, she reached for it. “Hello?”

“Um, yes, I was trying to reach Leather and Lace?”

Oh, hell! That didn’t sound very professional, did it? What was she thinking? “I’m sorry, you must have dialed the wrong number,” she lied.

“Oh. Sorry to bother you.” Click.

Two seconds later the telephone rang again. She took a deep breath, let it ring twice more, then picked it up and put on her best secretary voice. Crisp and efficient. “Leather and Lace, please hold.”

She covered the mouthpiece with her hand, counted slowly to ten, then came back. “I’m sorry for the delay,” she said. “How may I direct your call?”

“This is Boudoir Boutique,” the female voice replied. “And I’m calling to order your line of lingerie.”

“One moment, please.”

She reached for something to write on, smiling ear to ear. But as she was in the middle of jotting down the boutique’s list, the Call Waiting beeped and she had to put the first caller on hold. It was another chain, placing another order. And Gable Brothers hadn’t even called yet.

Martha Jane bit her lip, kept her cool, and took down the information.

Kayla came out of the bathroom wrapped in a big robe, and Martha Jane put down the phone. “The newspaper and Richard were right,” she exclaimed. “We’ve got to get in gear, Kayla. We need office space, and a secretary, and another computer, just for starters. Then we need to go through the offers from manufacturers, find the best bid, and get this line into mass production.”

Kayla was frowning, shaking her head. Not getting it.

“Kayla, hon, we just got orders from two chains, for almost a thousand items, and Gable’s hasn’t even called yet, and—”

The phone shrilled again.

“Leather and Lace, may I help you?” Martha Jane said. “I’m sorry, can you say that again? Twenty-five sets of the entire collection? Oh, for each store? And how many stores would that be, Mr.—” She bit her lip. “A hundred and one, you say?”

Kayla smacked her palm on her forehead. “I’m not ready for this!” she exclaimed as Martha Jane jotted the order on the back of an overdue electric bill.

“Well, you’d better
get
ready, kid. ‘Cause we’re in business. Listen, can you man the phones?”

“I guess so, but I—”

“Good. I’m going to get us some help. See you in an hour.”

Martha Jane ran back into her room, shaking off the remnants of that other woman she’d briefly become. It wasn’t difficult. She tossed on a sensible suit, pinned up her hair, and looked in the mirror to see the logical, dependable Miss Biswell looking back at her. Even if she
did
seem to have a new sparkle in her eyes. Sending herself a secret smile, Martha Jane headed out of the apartment at a brisk pace.

Richard sat in his office, a cup of coffee in his still-shaking hand, and told his brother about his date—minus the more personal details—with the mystery lady who turned out to be his own efficient, prim, and proper Miss Biswell.

Michael sat in a chair across from him, and all he did was shrug. “So what part of this surprises you, Richard? That Martha Jane is a knockout? That she is an actual woman? You’re telling me you never noticed it before?”

“Oh, come on, Michael! She wears blazers and—and
tweed
. And those big glasses. And her hair is always—”

“So she doesn’t go around the office in a thong and a bustier,” Michael said. “It might surprise you to learn this, little brother, but most women don’t.”

“I just never...”

“Bothered to give her a second glance,” Michael said, shaking his head. “I just wish I’d realized she was nursing a crush on you, Richard.”

“Why?”

“
Why
? Why do you think? Must have been like a slap in the face when you told her you were letting her go so we could hire our niece.”

Richard sighed. “She doesn’t even realize Babs
is
our niece. I think she believes she’s one of my ... you know.”

“Oh, hell. No wonder she threw your job offer back in your face.”

Richard lowered his head. “All this time, she was a few yards away from me, day in and day out. And I never got to know her at all. I mean, there’s so much more to the woman than meets the eye.”

“What, just because she’s fun in bed?”

Richard’s head came up sharply, and he fixed his brother with a stern glare. “Don’t even— That wasn’t what I meant, and you know it. She’s ... she’s funny. And sexy. And smart. She’s an entrepreneur, for crying out loud. And all this time I thought she was just...”

“Just a secretary,” Michael finished for him. “So does this mean you’re considering ... an actual relationship?”

Richard frowned at him. “A second date,” he said. “Just a second date. I haven’t
entirely
lost my mind.”

The buzzer on Richard’s desk sounded and he heard a familiar titter that set his teeth on edge. “Oh, Riiii-charrd .. .” Babs sang out over the intercom.

He sighed heavily. “What is it, Babs?”

“There’s a lady here to see you,” she said. Then she whispered, “And she’s kinda cute, but not very friendly.”

“Does she have a name?”

“Well, of course she does, silly!” Babs giggled again.

Richard clenched his teeth. But then another voice came, one so familiar his heart ached with missing its soothing sound on the other end of an intercom. “Richard, it’s Martha Jane, and it’s important.”

He looked up and met his brother’s eyes, his own widening. “You know nothing, you understand? She still thinks I don’t know it was her last night, and I want to keep it that way.”

“Why, for the love of God?”

He opened his mouth, closed it, shook his head. “Damned if I know. Because I can’t think of anything else to do at the moment.”

Michael rolled his eyes, and Richard went to the office door, opened it, and saw Martha Jane standing there, looking at Babs with blatant disapproval. He felt lower than pond slime. “Martha Jane,” he said. “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon. I see you’ve met Babs.”

“Yes.”

“She’s uh ... our niece.”

Martha Jane looked at him with one eyebrow raised. “Of course she is.”

“Hi, Martha Jane,” Michael said, coming out of the office. Then he looked at his brother, and Richard tried to send him a plea for help without saying anything out loud.

Michael sighed and glanced at his niece. “Babs, are you and your mom still coming to our place for dinner on Sunday? Cindy’s been planning all week.”

Babs smiled from ear to ear. “Sure are, Uncle Mike. We still having that special roasted chicken Aunt Cindy makes?”

“Absolutely.” He sent a wink at Martha Jane. “My sister’s been trying to get that secret recipe out of my wife for months. Maybe she’ll succeed this time.” Then he sauntered away, and Richard sent a silent thank-you after him.

Martha Jane was blinking, looking from Babs to Richard again and again. “You mean ... she
really
is your niece?”

Richard bit his lip to keep from saying anything rude in front of Babs. Instead he took Martha Jane’s elbow and led her into his office, closing the door before he spoke. “Martha Jane, I had no choice but to give her the job. No one else in the company would have put up with her. And with Michael’s secretary six months from retirement, we couldn’t very well—”

She held up a hand. “It’s okay. I... understand.”

“It’s not okay. It wasn’t fair, and believe me I’ve been suffering for it every minute of every day since you’ve been gone.”

He watched her battle a smile. The smile finally won. “I know. I heard her on the intercom.” The smile grew into the soft, sultry laugh he’d become enchanted with last night. “I was thinking it served you right.”

He nodded, studying her. Those eyes, dark and mysterious. The makeup had only enhanced what was already there. And the mask had just made her eyes even more noticeable. But when he looked into them now, he saw that she was the same woman ... the same beautiful, sexy woman he’d spent the night with. It was all there. He’d just never looked deeply enough to see it.

He wanted her so much it hurt!

“I came here to ask for your help, Richard. Kayla’s getting swamped with orders already this morning, and we just—well, we weren’t ready for it.”

He nodded at a chair, and she sat down. He didn’t. He hovered close by, not wanting to move too far from her. Why hadn’t he noticed before how gracefully she moved? She crossed her legs, nylons whispering as her thighs brushed each other. Richard’s blood was running hot, and he had to clear his throat before he could speak again. “So what can I do?”

“Well, we need to get some office space set up, put in a computer, get some phone lines turned on... not to mention see the bank, get our line of credit raised, and write a big fat check to a manufacturer so they can start sewing. The problem is, we need someone at the apartment manning the phones while we do all that.”

“And?”

“And we don’t have time to interview secretaries. I was hoping we could borrow one of yours.”

He looked at her and smiled.

She looked right back, her head tilting up to do it, and he could see that she read him loud and clear. “No. Not Babbette.”

“Well, it was worth a try,” he said, grinning back at her.

And then her smile died and she was frowning at him. “What’s going on with you today, Richard?”

He blinked down at her. “What?”

“You’re ... different. Almost... playful.”

He drew a breath, then took the time to walk back to his desk while formulating a response to that. She was right, he realized. At work, he was usually brusque and businesslike. Not relaxed and teasing, as he was with her today. But then again, she was usually stiff and tense with him. She was different today, too.

He took his seat, folded his hands on his desk. “You seem a bit more relaxed today yourself,” he told her.

She smiled, and her cheeks got pinker as she averted her eyes. “Well, I’m no longer your employee. I suppose that makes a difference.”

“Was I that tough to work for?”

She shrugged. “Obviously your new secretary agrees with you. She’s certainly improved your mood.”

“She’s driving me insane,” he blurted. “The only thing improving my mood is what happened to me last night.” He clamped his mouth closed.

Too late. Martha Jane had popped out of her chair so fast you’d have thought he’d electrocuted her. “That’s really none of my—”

“This one was ... different.” He wasn’t sure why he said it. Maybe just to see how she’d react. But then, it didn’t matter, because he couldn’t tell how she was reacting. She just went very still, her face frozen and expressionless.

“How was she ... different?”

He watched her standing there in front of her chair, looking ready to run. “She had a brain, for starters. She ... made me laugh. I talked to her, you know what I mean? I don’t usually talk to the women I date. But this one, this one made me want to talk to her.”

“Really?”

He nodded.

“What did she look like, this ... this woman?” She had turned now, paced softly over to the windows and pretended great interest in the traffic below.

“She was beautiful. But not in the way the others have been. She wasn’t tall or reed-thin. In fact, she must have been similar to you, physically speaking.”

She didn’t reply to that.

“I never saw her face fully, you know. She ... she wore a mask.”

“How mysterious,” Martha Jane whispered. “I suppose that’s why you’re really so intrigued, Richard. Not because of the woman, but because of the mystery she presents.”

“Funny, she suggested the same thing. But no. No, I don’t think that’s it at all.” He walked over to where Martha Jane stood in her tweed skirt and white blouse and color-coordinated blazer. Her hair was in a neat bun, and her eyes hid behind big tortoiseshell glasses. He stood very close behind her, and felt her body stiffen, and heat.

“Suppose she wore that mask because she has some horrible scar on her face? Or is missing an eye or something?” Her voice trembled as she spoke.

“I thought of that. And you know what? It didn’t matter. In fact, this morning when I woke up and thought back on the night, it hit me that for the first time in my life, what a woman looked like didn’t matter in the least to me.”

“I don’t believe that for a minute, Richard. And I don’t think you do either.”

“Don’t I?”

She turned to face him. “Oh, no. Tell me, what was this mystery woman wearing besides a mask? Something revealing? Something that told you she was the sex-kitten, one-night-stand type of girl you always go for? Would you have noticed her at all if she’d been wearing something else? Something like ... oh, say, like this?” She spread her hands, palms up, down the front of her, indicating her outfit.