Books by Maggie Shayne (50 page)

He heaped a platter with roast beef sandwiches on kaiser rolls, surrounded them with some healthy raw veggies, cheese, pickles, and a bag of potato chips. Then he grabbed a couple of cans of soda and carried the mess of it back into the bedroom.

But when he got there, she was gone. The only thing on his pillow, where her incredible mass of silken hair had been, was a note.

He set the tray down, and picked the note up, feeling like Prince Charming picking up a lone glass slipper.

It really was just the mask, Richard. The woman behind it isn’t the least bit interesting to you. Believe me, I know this to be true. You’ve told me yourself... without saying a word. Remember this night for what it was: a Valentine from a secret admirer—and a dream come true for a lonely woman. I’ll never forget it.

Love, Valentine

He blinked down at the signature, the handwriting. It was a scrawl he knew, too familiar to be forgotten.

“Oh my God,” he whispered, holding the note against his chest as his heart turned over and his blood rushed to his feet. “Miss Biswell!”

“Where in the name of sin have you
been
?” Kayla had come off the sofa as if she’d been shot out of a cannon the second Martha Jane stepped through the apartment door. “I’ve been worried sick! I called everywhere. Even the police, but they said you had to be gone for forty-eight hours before they could—” She stopped, her eyes widening as Martha Jane shrugged off the too big jacket she’d
borrowed
from Richard’s place. “Omigod, you’re still wearing... Martha Jane, what
happened
to you last night?”

Martha Jane sighed. She wondered if she looked as shell-shocked as she felt. “I’m not sure. Maybe it was temporary insanity. Or maybe I’m coming down with multiple-personality disorder or something.”

“Huh?” Kayla forced the puzzled expression off her face, gripped Martha Jane’s shoulders, and dragged her into the nearby bathroom. “Come on, you’re a mess. Your makeup is all over your face. Have you been crying? You have, haven’t you? God, girl, your hair looks like you just came off a night of wild ...” She paused there, blinking, leaning closer and peering into Martha Jane’s eyes. “No. No way. You didn’t...”

Martha Jane merely shrugged and looked away.

“You
didn’t!”
Kayla stood there frozen, then shook herself and turned away to start the shower and adjust the water temperature before facing Martha Jane again. “So who was he? You were onstage with me and then you were gone. I went backstage to wait for you, but you never came.” Hands on her hips, she stared at Martha Jane accusingly. “You left with some man, didn’t you? You walked out of that place, wearing that getup—with some stranger! Are you out of your freaking—”

“No,” Martha Jane denied softly. “No, Kayla, not with a stranger. With Richard Gable.” Her voice sounded a little dreamy, and when she looked into the mirror she saw that her eyes were rather vacant.

“Richard Gable?” Kayla was behind her now, unbuckling her, stripping the outfit off her the way a big sister would do. She guided Martha Jane into the shower and slid the door closed, and the entire time she never stopped talking. “
Richard Gable
? As in your ex-boss? The guy who fired you so he could hire some bimbo? The guy you’ve been secretly in love with for almost a year?”

Martha Jane yanked the sliding door open. “I am
not
secretly in love with him!” She slammed it shut again.

“No, you’re not, ‘cause it’s sure as hell no secret now!”

“Yes, actually, it is.” Martha Jane sighed and turned her face up to the warm, soothing spray. “Kayla, it was ... it was so ... so
exciting
!”

“But... but... he ... you ...”

Martha Jane yanked the stall door open again. “He never knew it was me! It was the mask. And I don’t know, I felt... freer somehow. Like I could do anything, be anyone I wanted to be—just like you said.”

“Yeah?” Kayla tilted her head to one side. “So who
were
you?”

Martha Jane felt her cheeks heat, and she pressed her hands to them as a trill of laughter escaped her lips.

“My God, you
giggled
. I’ve never heard you giggle in my life. What did that man do to you?”

“Just about everything, I think.” Martha Jane slid the doors closed again and ducked her head beneath the rush of water. “It was the most incredible night of my life,” she said, water running down her face. She washed her hair and soaped her body, then stood there clean and refreshed, just letting the hot water rush over her.

Suddenly there was an urgent pounding on the apartment door. Martha Jane just continued basking in the afterglow, relaxing in the shower spray. So much to think about. She wondered about this new part of herself—a part she’d never in her wildest dreams expected to find. Kayla sighed and left the bathroom. Martha Jane heard voices, but she didn’t let them intrude. She conditioned her hair and rinsed it under the spray. But then the voices got louder and broke into her lovely state of being.

Cranking the water off, she stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a big terry robe.

“How did you even find out where I live?” Kayla asked in an overly loud voice, sounding slightly nervous. It was as if she were
deliberately
speaking at high volume. Martha Jane reached for the bathroom doorknob as Kayla went on. “I mean ... I wasn’t expecting company,
Mr. Gable
.”

“Omigod,” Martha Jane whispered. She jerked her hand away from the doorknob as if it had burned her. “He’s here!”

“Um ... your address was on your business cards,” Richard said, sounding a bit confused at Kayla’s behavior. “Everyone who attended the show got one. Surely you knew that?”

“Well... well, of course I did. But I thought anyone who wanted to order from me would... would call, not drop by unannounced.” Then she paused. “Wait a minute— is that why you’re here? Do you want to... order my line?”

Curious, Martha Jane gripped the doorknob again, turned it, and opened the door just a crack to peer through.

“Well, why else would I be here?” Richard asked.

Martha Jane gasped, pressing a hand to her mouth to cover the sound. In the next room, Kayla looked stunned.

“I expected to find an office, not an apartment,” Richard was saying. “I am truly sorry if this is an inconvenience, but if you want to be in business, you really shouldn’t greet the customers with open hostility.”

Martha Jane closed her eyes. That one had to hurt, even though Richard had said it in his charming, teasing tone. Kayla huffed, gaped, and started over. “We’re ... in the process of... relocating our ... er ... headquarters,” she said.

Martha Jane could almost see Richard’s reluctant smile. “Just starting out, huh? Well, you’ve got nothing to worry about. By the end of the day, you’ll have more orders than you can handle. Including a hefty one from Gable Brothers.”

“I... will?”

“Absolutely.”

“Well, I...” Kayla clasped her hands together. Probably to keep from high-fiving him, Martha Jane thought. ‘Thank you. Thank you so much!“

“No need to thank me. It’s business. Your clothes are going to make my stores a lot of money. But, uh, that’s not the
entire
reason I’m here.”

It’s not
? Martha Jane thought.

“It’s not?” Kayla asked.

“No. I, um, I’m trying to track down the, uh, the model you used last night. And I thought—”

“Oh, well, um, you know that’s strictly against policy. I mean, no designer in the biz would—well, you know that, Mr. Gable. You’ve worked in this business long enough to know we absolutely have to protect our models’ privacy.”

“Well, sure, but she
wasn’t
a model. Not really.”

Martha Jane gripped the doorknob so hard her knuckles turned white.

“I paid her to walk down a runway wearing my clothes,” Kayla said, her voice dry. “Or do you have some other definition of what constitutes professional modeling?”

“Look, I need to speak to her. It’s important.”

“Well, I’m just not sure I...”

Martha Jane opened the door and stepped out. “Mr. Gable?” she asked, feigning surprise. “I
thought
that was your voice I heard. How are you?”

He looked at her in surprise—or she thought it was surprise. But then again, there was something utterly false about it. As if he’d been expecting her to pop in long before she had. But then he smiled broadly. “Martha Jane! I didn’t know you lived here! You two are ... roommates, then?”

Martha Jane nodded.

“How are you?” Richard asked. “I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed you at the office.”

Kayla snorted and turned her head.

“Oh, I’m sure Buffy is doing a fine job,” Martha Jane managed.

“Uh ... it’s Babbette. And no, she’s not half the secretary you were.” He shook his head. “If I’d had any choice in the matter, you’d still be there. But, you know that.”

“Bimbette has that much control over you, does she?” Kayla drawled.

Richard grinned, shaking his head, either not hearing the not-too-subtle slam in Kayla’s tone or pretending not to. “It’s Babbette, and she has me wrapped around her little finger, I’m afraid.” Martha Jane almost winced. God, he might as well poke her with sharp sticks. “But remember my offer, Martha Jane. I can move you into any department you want, and give you a pay raise to boot. Just say the word.”

She opened her mouth.

Kayla spoke first. “Oh, you’ll just have to fill those slots with more like Boobette,” she said brightly.

“Babbette,” Richard corrected.

“Whatever.” Kayla waved a hand dismissively. “Martha Jane is working with me now. In fact, she’s my second in command. She’s way too good to be any man’s secretary. Especially a man who’d replace her with some little—”

“Kayla.” Martha Jane said it firmly but not loudly. “Richard is our first paying
customer
. I’m sure he’s not here to discuss his secretary with us.”

Kayla fell silent, and even looked a little apologetic.

Richard looked right into Martha Jane’s eyes and said, “I had no idea you were a part of this clothing line.” Then he held out a hand. “Well, then, let me be the first to say congratulations, Martha Jane.”

“But we haven’t even—”

“I imagine your venture—Leather and Lace, isn’t it?” Kayla nodded fast when he glanced her way, then he went on, “It’s going to be as big as Victoria’s Secret. I’d bet money on it, and believe me, I know about these things.”

Martha Jane looked past him at Kayla, whose eyes got wider.

“Now, back to the subject at hand. This model...”

“I’m sorry,” Kayla began.

“I can get a message to her,” Martha Jane interrupted quickly.

“You can?”

She nodded.

“You know her, then?”

“Yes. But I can’t tell you anything about her. I mean, I’d have to ask her first, and... so why don’t you just give me the message and I’ll pass it along?”

He shook his head slowly. “Is there anything you
can’t
do, Martha Jane?”

She shrugged and tried not to blush with pleasure. “I don’t suppose I’d be very good at modeling lingerie,” she said. Meanwhile, she ignored Kayla, who was staring at her over Richard’s shoulder as if she’d grown horns.

Instead of saying anything more, she went to the telephone stand and picked up the pad of paper and pen that lay there. “Here you go, Mr. Gable,” she said. “Just jot down what you want to say, and I’ll see that she gets it.”

He smiled brilliantly and took the pad from her. His fingers brushed hers, and for just a second his eyes, sparkling with some unnamed intensity, met hers and held them. She had to look away. He was probably just thinking of his masked lover. Martha Jane Biswell was the farthest thing from his mind. Finally he began writing. He wrote for a long time, paused, licked his lips, and wrote some more. Then he tore the sheet off, folded it, and handed it to Martha Jane. “Now, this is for her eyes only. Okay?”

“You can trust me, Mr. Gable.”

“I know I can,” he murmured. “Martha Jane, in all the time you worked for me, didn’t I ever once tell you to call me Richard?”

Lifting her head, she met his gaze. Still intense, still probing. His eyes this morning seemed to be examining her, over and over again, as if he’d never seen her before. “No,” she answered him honestly. “You never did.”

“I was an idiot, then.” He closed his hand over hers, around the note. “Thank you, Martha Jane. This means a lot to me.” Then he leaned closer and pressed his lips to her cheek. It was, she thought, the most intimate cheek kiss she’d ever had. Long, and tender. Then he turned to Kayla. “And again, congratulations on your success. The buyers from Gable Brothers will be calling you later on today to officially place that order.”

“Thank you, Mr. Gable.”

He nodded, smiling, then turned and left the apartment, but as they pushed the door closed, he put a hand out, holding it open. “Your morning paper is here,” he said, bending to pick it up and hand it in to them. “I’ve already seen mine. You might want to check out the fashion section.”

Then he nodded good-bye and pulled the door closed behind him.

Kayla’s wide eyes met Martha Jane’s. “Fashion section?” Kayla whispered. Her hands were shaking as she pushed the newspaper at Martha. “You do it! I can’t!” Martha Jane took the newspaper, knelt on the floor, and began flipping through it.

She didn’t have to look far. A full-color photo of Kayla and Martha Jane, wearing their angel and devil numbers, side by side, center stage, covered the front page. Above it was the banner headline NEWCOMBER KAYLA HART, LINGERIE’S HOTTEST NEW STAR!

The two women, squealing with laughter, hugged each other and danced in circles.

Just outside the door, Richard went still as he heard the sound of his mystery lady’s laughter. He waited, listening, unable to move away.

“But why did you go and tell him I was working with you?” He heard Martha Jane ask.

“Because you were about to take him up on the job offer! I could see it in your eyes, Martha Jane. And you’re too good for a man who’d fire you just to give one of his floozies a job. Way too good.”

Martha Jane lowered her voice. “He’s not as bad as all that.”

“Oh, no? He’s bad enough that he doesn’t even look at you as a woman. My God, he stood right here and didn’t even know you were the same one he spent the night with. The same one he’s driving himself crazy trying to find now. He’s shallow, Martha Jane. He’s a Neanderthal who’s convinced himself that a decent, intelligent woman can’t be sexy and that a sexy woman can’t be decent or intelligent. Besides, you don’t need to take his job offer now. If what this fashion editor says turns out to be even close to the truth, we’re both gonna end up millionaires, honey. Men like Richard Gable will be looking at you in a whole new way—and you won’t have to fall at their feet in your underwear to get them to do it, either.”

Martha Jane sighed loudly. “I don’t really
want
any other man looking at me that way. But the rest sounds great.”

Richard stepped away from the door slowly, feeling more confused than he ever had in his life. More rotten and selfish and shallow, too. Kayla had him nailed. “She’s right,” he whispered. “I’ve been the world’s biggest, blindest fool. But damned if I know how to make it up to her. Or if I should even try.” He shrugged, pushing his hands into his pockets, and walked back down the hall. If he let Martha Jane know how special he thought she was, she might get the wrong idea. She might think he was serious about this thing, that he wanted—he swallowed hard—a
relationship
.