Once Upon a Valentine (24 page)

She glared at her reflection in the window again, depressed. She was thirty-two.
Thirty-two.
And utterly, totally single. Normally, this wasn’t something that bothered her much, but on Valentine’s Day it just seemed…lonely. Especially when one’s date wasn’t in any hurry to arrive.

She made a mental note to stop by the liquor store on the way back to her apartment and stock up. Red wine might go very nicely with those cupcakes.

Her phone vibrated and she grabbed it, figuring it was going to be her date apologizing for his tardiness. But no, it was another number. A familiar one that brought a smile to her lips.

She held the device to her ear. “Uh-huh?”

“Why don’t you ever say hello to me like normal people do?” Stephen Fox asked.

“Too busy. I’m currently shoveling high-fat, sugared confectionaries into my mouth.”

“That sounds kind of hot, actually.”

“Yeah, so hot.” She rolled her eyes and felt some of her tension ease. Stephen was somewhere out there, on a date of his own with some hot chick. Stephen tended to use phrases like “hot chick,” but Ginger chose not to hold it against him. She’d planned to call him later to find out how his evening went and to unload about her own Mr. Perfect.

The Mr. Perfect who hadn’t shown his face yet.

Stephen was the owner of Red Fox Publishing, a children’s book company, and Ginger was one of three full-time editors on staff. He was also devastatingly attractive, a fact that Ginger tried to ignore as much as humanly possible. Since she’d started working for him a year ago, they’d become personal friends. It didn’t take long before they realized that they shared the same sense of humor, the same taste in food and the same love of over-the-top action movies.

Too bad he’d never looked at her as more than a friend. She might be tempted. Instead, she reminded herself that he was Off-Limits. Just because they’d developed a friendship didn’t mean he wasn’t
also
her employer. Business and pleasure worked sometimes, but it all depended on the level of pleasure. Friends, yes. Lovers…no way.

She’d had a bad experience dating her manager at a small magazine she worked for just after college. Once their relationship took a nosedive, so did her regular paychecks. Before long, she found herself out of a job. A friendship was way easier to maintain than any sort of romance. Romances inevitably ended, but friendships could last forever. And fantastic jobs that also paid the bills were something to be handled with utmost care.

Besides, Stephen had made it very clear during a few of their many debates that he thought every romance had an expiry date, like milk or eggs. Based on her past experiences, she couldn’t exactly say he was wrong.

“Don’t forget,” Stephen said over the phone. “Regardless of how exciting your Valentine’s Day date is, we have that meeting with Jorgensen bright and early at nine at the office. His plane should have arrived an hour ago, in fact. I’ll check in with him to make sure he hasn’t killed anyone yet.”

“Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten.”

How could she? Robert Jorgensen was a Very Important Author, a man whose books about a friendly blue monster who loved making lemonade and solving mysteries basically floated the entire operation and kept Ginger in red velvet cupcakes, not to mention rent money. He was also much more of a miserable bastard than his lighthearted books suggested.

She’d decided, after several unpleasant phone conversations with him as they discussed his books, that the man simply needed to get laid. However, she wasn’t offering.

Now he was here in Toronto personally for a tour of the office, and they hoped to impress him. He hadn’t yet accepted their latest contract offer. Sad to say, the future of Red Fox was currently hanging on his answer.

No pressure there.

“How’s your date going?” Stephen asked.

“Oh…great.” Ginger glanced across the empty table and ran her finger around the edge of her cold cup of coffee. “Just great. He’s everything I thought he’d be.”

“He’s there right now?”

“He’s getting a refill at the counter. I probably shouldn’t talk much longer. It’s rude, you know.” She blinked. “What about your date? Isn’t she giving you a lap dance or something?”

“Her talented tongue is in my ear as we speak. We’re at Jack and Lucy’s.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Oh, the bar on Adelaide? You’re just around the corner from me. I’m at the Valentine Café.”

“That sounds ridiculously charming.”

“It is. Happy Valentine’s Day, Stephen.”

“You, too.”

She ended the call and looked bleakly at the screen of her phone. Again, her reflection stared back at her, accusing her of lying to someone she cared about.

“Well, what was I supposed to say?” she mumbled out loud. “Admit that I’d been stood up? With his opinions of internet dating, he’d never let me forget it.”

Besides, if he was having an incredible night that would inevitably lead to mind-blowing sex, the least she could do is make it seem as if she had the same in store. Really, it only seemed fair.

STEPHEN FOX STUDIED the screen of his BlackBerry for a few long moments before he returned it to the pocket of his jeans.

Ginger had been lying to him. Her date hadn’t shown up—the date she’d been talking about all damned week. This “Mr. Perfect” who had the potential to “change her life.”

Online dating. What a stupid invention.

“Who was that?” The guy on the bar stool next to him asked before tossing back a shot of tequila.

“Just a friend.” Stephen wasn’t all that fond of that word.
Friend.
Just another
F
word.

Stupid blind date. On a stupid love-soaked holiday that was played up more for commercial value than anything real.

He flagged down the bartender to order another beer.

“You lie to your friends a lot?” the guy asked.

“What?”

“There’s no girl with her tongue in your ear right now.”

Stephen grabbed a handful of unshelled peanuts and launched one into his mouth. “The night’s still young. Maybe I’m being optimistic.”

“You totally saved me, you know that?” The guy leaned an elbow on the long, glossy wooden bar top and gave him a drunken grin. “That blind date could have been hell to get away from if I’d gone in there. I mean, what was I thinking?”

“It wouldn’t have gone well. Like I told you, I saw her. She’s…” Stephen grimaced as he forced the words out. “Well, let’s just say, unless you’re looking at having puppies instead of kids one day, she wasn’t right for you.”

“The picture she emailed me made her look really hot.”

Stephen waved a hand dismissively. “It was probably from twenty years ago. Women do that all the time.”

He was a liar. A horrible liar who was going to hell. But it was all for a good cause. Honestly, Ginger didn’t want to date this guy, anyway. He was a total loser.

Just look at him,
he thought.
Tall, built, handsome as a male model. Owns his own gym. Total loser.

Yup.
Hell.
He was well on his way.

Stephen had shown up at the Valentine Café at the exact same time as Mr. Perfect, here, and spotted Ginger seated near the window. He’d seen the email about their date over her shoulder earlier that afternoon, so he knew when and where it was taking place. It had been a difficult task to lure this guy away before he saw her, but not as difficult as he’d originally thought.

Not that it had been a premeditated plan, or anything. He wasn’t
that
cold. The thought that Ginger was at the café right now, waiting for this jerk to show, then feeling bad that she’d been stood up on Valentine’s Day, didn’t sit well with him at all.

Despite its commercial trappings, women
loved
Valentine’s Day.

He was completely evil for doing this. However, his motivation was fairly solid.

The thought of Ginger being with any other man made his blood boil and his vision go red at the edges. It was the madness and the jealousy that made him do stupid, thoughtless things like this.

He’d met her a year ago, the day before she started working at Red Fox. Right here in this bar, Jack and Lucy’s, in fact. Stephen had been getting over his last girlfriend, a woman who’d decided she wanted more adventure and excitement in her life so she cheated on him with three different men. In the same night.

Stephen had allowed himself to get as drunk as he’d ever been in his thirty-five years. So drunk that nothing else seemed to matter. So drunk that he was willing to do or say whatever he wanted to whomever he wanted without worrying about the consequences. And he’d done just that to a beautiful redhead whose long mane of hair had caught his drunken attention. A beer in each hand, he’d hit on her loudly and shamelessly.

Then he’d puked on her shoes.

Puked. On. Her. Shoes.

It wasn’t until the next morning, when he’d dragged his hungover ass into work, that he’d met his newest editor, whom he’d hired over the phone since she’d lived in Calgary at the time. Ginger had thought the entire embarrassing (for him) situation was hilarious and told him to forget about it. He pretended that he had, then worked hard to show that he wasn’t a lush who couldn’t control himself. They became friends—good friends. Better friends than he’d ever been with a woman before. In his life.

Not a “friends with benefits” situation, either. A
platonic
friendship.

It was for the best. He didn’t believe in true love. His parents had split when he was just a kid and it had hit him hard. And his most recent serious girlfriend’s lack of interest in being even remotely faithful had left a bad taste in his mouth. And in his life.

Now he was dedicated to his job. Full stop. So, pursuing anything with Ginger felt unprofessional, given the fact he was her boss.

Of course, he wasn’t made of stone. He had waited for some glimmer of attraction to show in her eyes during their many talks and late dinner meetings, but first impressions were lasting impressions. She would always think of him like a buddy capable of doing stupid things that made her laugh. That was all.

But despite his own “romance sucks” philosophy and swearing off serious relationships, he didn’t feel like a buddy. And tonight, Valentine’s Day, after he’d just destroyed her most recent chance at love—although, Mr. Perfect didn’t seem, in Stephen’s humble opinion, to be the right man for the job—he was on his third beer. Maybe he’d eventually puke on someone else’s shoes tonight.

“So, who’s the babe?” Mr. Perfect asked after a minute.

Stephen winced. “What do you mean?”

“The one you’re thinking about.” The guy leaned toward him. “I know what it’s like to get hung up on a woman, dude. And you’re pining for one right now.”

“You think so, huh?”

“I know so.”

Stephen shrugged. “She’s not interested in me like that, so it doesn’t really matter.”

Mr. Perfect nodded sagely. “You’re a good-looking guy. She probably could be. You just need to be more forceful. Sometimes when they say no, they really mean yes, you know what I mean? You just have to grab them and make them see that they want you. That’s what I would have done with the babe tonight if she hadn’t been a total dog.” He stood up. “I still might. I mean, how bad could she be? I don’t mind cougars.”

Stephen held his arm out to stop the guy from leaving. “Not a good idea. You should go home. You’re drunk.”

And if Mr. Perfect made any more mention of “no means yes,” Stephen thought he might add murder to his list of crimes tonight instead of general deceit and, making an educated guess for later, public drunkenness.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right. So what about you? What about your babe?”

“Like I said—” Stephen flagged the bartender to bring him another beer ASAP “—she’s not interested in me like that.”