The Fiancée Fiasco (21 page)

I always take care of myself
. Roseanne was sure of this as she turned and climbed the boarding ramp to her plane. In particular, she was always very careful with her heart. She wouldn't allow a man with indescribable blue eyes to steal something like that away.

Such a man, for example, could not take her heart and walk down an airport concourse with it. That sort of accident did not happen to Roseanne.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

"I bet this'll get carried in the Daily Seattle," the young man remarked eagerly. "Gather closer together, okay, so I can get a good shot." He lifted a heavy camera.

"What in the world?" In their plush booth at the upscale Seattle restaurant, Roseanne turned to her boss, George. "Where did he come from?"

"From our publicist. They're working up a press release." George put a hand along the top of the booth behind her. "Cheap advertising for the firm. The paper announces who's made partner and CovMarch gets their name in the paper for free. Smile pretty, now."

Oh, if it was for CovMarch... Roseanne turned to the uplifted camera and pulled her fire engine red lips back in a formal smile. George put his other arm around the shoulders of his wife, Emily. On Roseanne's other side, Harlan did the same to his wife, Roseanne's friend, Sheryl.

A white flash momentarily blinded them. Caught forever in time, Roseanne mused, the independent career woman alone between two happily married couples. The vignette struck her as particularly appropriate under the circumstances.

"Thanks a bunch, folks." The young photographer grinned cheerfully. "Enjoy the rest of your dinner."

If only she could. But Roseanne was abundantly aware she was the wet blanket on her own celebratory dinner. It was hard to understand why she didn't feel more excited about having been made partner. Perhaps her depression was the natural letdown of over-high expectations.

"So, tell us, Roseanne," Emily asked across George. "Were you surprised when they offered you the partnership?"

Roseanne raised her wine glass toward her boss. "How could I have been surprised when your husband here kept me informed of every sneeze the senior partners were making on the topic?"

"It was never in much doubt," George put in. "Not when Roseanne came back from Texas with that retainer agreement from Carruthers Engineering. That's when the dirty dozen knew they had someone with extraordinary talent they couldn't afford to lose."

"It's quite true that I'm extraordinarily talented." Roseanne nodded sagely. "Which is why I'm sure bringing in the Carruthers contract could only have been a small part of the decision."

"Think again." George laughed cheerfully. "The senior partners were mightily impressed. They all knew the last thing Win had in mind was re-hiring the law firm who'd handled his divorce. Personally, I'm still wondering how you managed to do it."

Coughing, Roseanne raised her wine glass to shield her face. Thank God Houston gossip was too far away to be heard in Seattle. Meanwhile, her eyes met Sheryl's over the glass's rim.

"She won't tell anyone," George confided to Harlan across the table. "It's a deep dark secret. If I didn't know Roseanne any better—"

"Oh, it couldn't be anything all that dark." Sheryl spoke up brightly. "Knowing Roseanne, she probably used sheer logic and cool reason. That's always the best way to get your point across."

Harlan guffawed. "Right. You mean the sheer logic and cool reason you used to get me to close my lumber mill?"

With her eyes flashing at him, Sheryl did something sudden under the table to her husband.

"Ouch!" He shot her a reproachful look. "What was that for?"

Roseanne set down her wine. "That was for potentially embarrassing me." She sent her friend a killing glance. "But Sheryl knows better than anyone I have no cause for embarrassment."

"All the same, Roz," George spoke carefully. "You have to admit...you haven't been quite yourself since you got back from Texas."

A wriggly snake crawled through Roseanne's insides. Her voice, however, came out bland and unaffected. "I admit nothing of the kind, your honor. I am precisely the same as always."

George and Sheryl shared a glance.

Sheryl placed her hands on the table. "Roseanne and I are going to the ladies' room."

"We are?" Roseanne asked.

Sheryl's eyes narrowed. "Now."

Sighing, Roseanne slid out of the booth, following George and Emily, who'd scooted out of her way. She knew what was coming. What were best friends for but to give painful lectures on topics that had been disclosed in strictest confidence?

Sheryl took longer than Roseanne to rise from her seat, getting heavier every day with Harlan's child.

Harlan's foot was probably still smarting from Sheryl's heel, but there was an avid gleam in his eye, a beam of possessive protectiveness, as he watched her rise.

"Let's go," Sheryl said.

"Right." Roseanne dragged her eyes from watching Sheryl's husband watch Sheryl. Then she followed her friend from the room.

~~~

"Any particular reason you pulled me from the party?" Roseanne parked her lean hips against a marble vanity that ran the length of the dressing room. It was a cozy, feminine room, with floral wallpaper and soft lighting.

"What party?" Sheryl paced the floor. "You're about as cheerful as a funeral mourner."

"Nonsense. I'm having a ball. This is the event of a lifetime, after all."

"Uh huh." Sheryl was remarkably unimpressed. "Why don't you admit it, Roz? You can't enjoy making partner because you feel bad about how you got the offer."

Roseanne raised her eyebrows. "I do?"

"Yup." Sheryl nodded. "You feel guilty about exploiting your own emotions and those of a third party to get what you wanted."

"I'm so glad you understand this," Roseanne murmured, "because it never would have occurred to me." She liked thinking of Win as a 'third party,' though. It gave him a comfortable amount of distance. As though he weren't really involved at all.

"Maybe it wouldn't have occurred to you." Sticking to her guns, Sheryl took a seat in one of the two easy chairs provided. "You tend to discount the strength and value of your own feelings."

Roseanne lightly clicked her teeth together. "There aren't any particular feelings."

Sheryl simply looked at her. A much too clear and penetrating look. "No feelings at all. You don't miss him just a tiny bit?"

"No."

"You don't sometimes remember a moment or two you shared together?"

"No."

"You never think about seeing him again?"

"For the last time, dear friend, no." Roseanne realized she was clenching her fists, making her fingernails dig into her palms. Carefully, she unclenched them. "I hate to disappoint your romantic fantasy, but the whole adventure was pleasant and temporary. Completely casual."

It was all true. Roseanne didn't miss Win. Okay, she was lonely every night. Her life seemed bland and colorless. But that had nothing to do with missing Win. It was all part of the boredom ennui thing, the letdown of finding her new partnership less than amazing.

Sheryl's foot bounced up and down with one knee crossed over the other. "You're trying to tell me you got romantically involved with this man while playing his fiancée, lived in his house, took meals with him, met his family and generally engaged yourself in every facet of his life—and then just walked away without ever thinking about him again?"

"I'm not like you, Sheryl." Roseanne straightened from the vanity and flicked a piece of lint off her black sheath of a dress. "I can enjoy a romantic interlude without getting all emotionally attached to a man."

"You think I don't know about emotional distancing?" Sheryl widened her eyes in disbelief. "After my first husband died, I spent six years of my life keeping every male at arm's length."

"Okay. Then you do know what I'm talking about."

"You bet I do." Sheryl's angry features softened. "Enough to know you didn't walk away unscathed from this one."

Roseanne felt oddly vulnerable as Sheryl's turquoise eyes took her in, as if Sheryl could see something that wasn't there. "Is that what you know?" she inquired.

"Roseanne I've seen you date a lot of guys, but I've never seen one have this kind of an effect on you." Sheryl leaned forward in her seat. "There was something special about this man."

A shimmer of longing went through Roseanne, a feeling she'd strictly forbidden herself. She didn't go in for serious with relationships, and even if she did, Win was done with her. She remembered how eager he'd been for her to catch that plane. So now she fought the longing sensation down.

"Oh, he was unique, all right." Shrugging, she stepped down the length of the vanity. "Kind of funny looking, if you must know. Not much of a conversationalist. Prefers computers to the company of other people."

"I suspect he had some redeeming qualities."

Roseanne thought about that. "He's a decent cook."

Sheryl laughed. "You know what I think?" She cocked her head. "I think this man actually fulfills your strict requirements for a mate to a tee."

"A mate? I hadn't realized we were talking about marriage. You do know that's ridiculous, right?" And yet, briefly, Roseanne remembered Win making such a suggestion. Something about getting married for real—including a baby. She remembered kind of, briefly, considering the idea...even though Win, himself, had been joking.

"Marriage, living together, whatever—something permanent," Sheryl persisted. "Win has exactly what you've been looking for, has it in spades, in fact."

Fascinated despite herself, Roseanne stared at her friend. "What's that?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Sheryl arched her eyebrows at Roseanne. "Loyalty."

A flash flood of emotion rushed through Roseanne. She continued staring at her friend. "I...I don't understand." Or perhaps she was afraid to figure it out.

"Win had no tolerance for his wife's infidelity," Sheryl explained, "because he held himself to the same rigid standard. Once he pledged himself to someone, that would be it. No ifs ands or buts."

Roseanne fought down the baffling war of emotions that assailed her. "I have to admit you do have an active imagination." With a carefully blasé sigh, she made for the spot where she'd left her purse. "I don't recall Win making a pledge of any kind to me. On the contrary, he had the exact same, casual attitude toward the relationship that I did."

"Oh, Roseanne, I give up." Shaking her head, Sheryl rose from her chair. "Have it your way. Only see if you can answer me this." She fixed her friend with a challenging gaze. "If Win was so very unimportant and casual in your life, then why didn't you bring along a date tonight?"

"Oh, that's easy." Roseanne scooped up her purse and turned to leave the room. "I'm giving up casual relationships."

~~~

The next morning Roseanne stood in the office elevator, a pair of dark glasses covering the shadows under her eyes. Even after all the wine, she'd slept worse than ever last night. Her sweet Queen Anne Hill apartment had become more lonely than cozy recently. Yet another change she didn't understand.

How could ten short days in Houston make her apartment feel different? It wasn't as if she'd fallen in love with anybody. Even if she kind of missed Win—okay she admitted it—she certainly hadn't taken
that
plunge. Love. Such a fall into dependence and need would be the ultimate disaster.

Now she clutched a paper cup of coffee like it was her only hope of salvation. Nothing less than a healthy dose of caffeine would get her through the day.

Because she was operating at less than normal, it took her all of half a second to recognize the jovial-looking man who was waiting in her office.

"Oh, Miz Archer, it's good to see you again." He jumped from the chair in front of her desk and shook her hand fervently. The action was vigorous enough to cause her dark glasses to slide off and to the ground. "Oh, I'm so very sorry," he exclaimed, bending to pick them up.

"Mr. Henderson," Roseanne exclaimed. Win's right-hand man, and once her key to gaining entrance to Winthrop's house.

"Call me Boyd, please. I'm sorry to drop in on you like this without notice." He wiped his forehead with a handkerchief produced from nowhere visible. "But I really wanted to see you."

"No problem. Please sit down." Roseanne set her things on her desk with great care. She then sat and faced Boyd with a polite smile, trying to stem the nearly debilitating concern she felt. Had something terrible happened to Win? "So, how is everything in Houston?"

"Well, you see, there now." Stopping, Boyd looked supremely uncomfortable. "That's exactly what I came here to talk to you about."

Roseanne raised a delicate eyebrow. Meanwhile the worst of her fear receded. Boyd's discomfort was personal, not dire. Win wasn't dead or in mortal peril, then. "Seattle is a long way to come," she observed.

"I was here on business anyway. You know, the Boeing deal. Win didn't want to make the trip."

A stabbing pain went through Roseanne. "Oh."

Boyd gave her a sharp look. "He claims everything is fine between you two, that you're still engaged. But I have to wonder why he didn't jump at the chance to come up here to see you."

Roseanne began to rearrange the coffee and dark glasses on her desk. "I can understand why you might be confused." How the hell was she supposed to explain to Win's best friend and right hand man why he hadn't felt the need to court his sham fiancée? Judging by the fact he'd sent Boyd, Win didn't even care to see Roseanne again—by accident—let alone romance her.

"I suppose you think this is none of my business," Boyd went on doggedly. "And I suppose you'd be right, but Miz Archer—" Here the man paused. "May I be frank?"

Roseanne forced herself to meet his innocent gaze. "Please do."

Boyd leaned forward in his seat, lacing his fingers together where they fell between his knees. "I've never seen Win happier than in the two weeks you were staying down in Houston with him."

A flush immediately suffused Roseanne's face. If Boyd only knew the truth! Win had had to be scammed just to let her stay in his house.