My Favorite Mistake (11 page)

I picked up my menu. “Not long.”

“Did I hear Sam say a week?”

I frowned. “Why the inquisition, Redford?”

He shrugged, stil perusing the menu. “Because when I asked you on the phone if you’d gotten remarried, you said you hadn’t.”

I raised my eyebrows. “I haven’t.”

“And that you live alone.”

“I do. Redford, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were…irritated that I’ve moved on with my life.”

He glanced up at me, his mouth set in a straight line.

“B-but that would be ridiculous,” I stammered. “B-because you’re married with a family.”

“Excuse me?” He dropped his menu.

“Wel , aren’t you?”

“No! What on earth gave you that idea?”

I dropped my menu. “Because you said…on the phone…that you were in Versail es…because your girls were there.”

His face crumpled in laughter. “I meant my nieces.” His eyes twinkled. “And my mares.”

My pulse raced wildly. I was at a loss for words, until my gaze rested on his left hand. I pointed at the irrefutable evidence. “What about your wedding ring?”

He looked down. “Oh. That.”

“Yeah…
that.
”

He slid it off his finger and pushed it across the table toward me. “It’s the one you gave me, Denise.”

I stared at the plain gold band as if it were booby-trapped. My mind reeled. “You kept your ring?”
Didn’t you?
my conscience whispered.

“I put it in storage and just never got around to doing anything with it. I thought you might want it back to, you know, melt down into a nugget or something.”

“A nugget?”

“Isn’t that the fashionable thing to do with wedding rings once the marriage is over? Make a nugget pendant out of the ring?”

I shook my head. “I have no idea.”

“Some of my Marine buddies who were married more than once just kept adding to theirs.” He laughed. “One guy’s nugget got so big, he had a belt buckle made out of it.”

I pursed my mouth. “Impressive.” And it reinforced the information reported in the newspaper article that had prompted me to file for the annulment—soldiers liked to get married.

He sobered and cleared his throat. “You can take it. Sel it if you like.”

Glinting under the light of the pendant fixture that hung over the table, the plain band of gold looked new. The large circumference of the ring reminded me of how difficult it had been to find a band to fit Redford’s thick finger…the man had large hands. Hands that knew how to do indescribable things to me. With great effort, I brought my mind back to the present.

“You sent
my
ring back with the annulment papers,” I murmured.

“I figured you could sel it to help pay the legal fees.”

I pressed my lips together and nodded, unable to admit that I had kept the ring…and not just because I’d forgotten about it.

He picked up his ring and extended it toward me. “Do you want it?”

I swal owed and shook my head.

He nodded matter-of-factly, then tucked the ring into his shirt pocket, where it pushed against the polished cotton. The rounded neck of a snowy white T-shirt peeked just above the top button of his khaki-colored shirt…under his jeans he would be wearing equal y white boxer shorts. The elastic waistband would ride just below a tiny mole on his left hip. My mind seemed determined to delay processing Redford’s bombshel of a revelation.

“So,” I said slowly, “you’re…not…married?”

He held my gaze. “Nope. But you’re engaged.”

“Right.”

His dark eyes were unreadable, his expression stil . My emotions ran the gamut from nervous to miffed to flattered to worried. I’d agreed to spend time with Redford because

I’d thought he was married and it seemed…safe. Now, I wasn’t so sure.

The waitress came to leave our drinks—water for me, sweet iced tea for Redford—and to take our orders. My stomach was in such turmoil, I couldn’t conceive of eating, but I

ordered soup to appear normal. Conversely, Redford ordered a porterhouse steak, baked potato, mixed vegetables and a chef’s salad with extra cheese.

When the waitress left, he rested his elbows on the table. “So…who’s the lucky guy?”

I took a drink of water from my glass. “His name is Barry Copeland. He’s a television producer.”

He nodded. “Sounds exciting. How long have you known him?”

“A couple of years.”

He gave a little smile. “I guess that’s the proper amount of time to know someone before you get married.”

I nodded. “I…suppose so.”

“Have you set a date for the wedding?”

“No.”

“Are you going to do it up right this time with a fancy dress and lots of attendants?”

I squirmed, thinking about that darned dress hanging in my closet. “We haven’t discussed it, real y.”

“I heard you tel Sam that your boyfriend was out of town.”

“That’s right. He’s in L.A. for a few days.”

He pressed his lips together. “He doesn’t know that I’m here, does he?”

I shifted in my seat and tried to look indignant. “What makes you think that?”

“Because no man in his right mind would leave town while his fiancée plays hostess to her ex-husband.”

“Redford, you’re not my ex-husband,” I said lightly.

“Oh, right—the annulment.” He leaned back in the booth and pul ed on his chin. “A signed piece of paper that says nothing happened between us doesn’t make it so. I was

there, Denise…something happened.”

Beneath the table, I had frayed the end of the napkin with my frantic picking. “That was a long time ago, Redford. I was…different.”

His dark eyebrows lifted. “Different? Different how?”

A flush climbed my throat and heated my face inch by inch. I realized that I needed to be blunt for my own salvation. I leaned forward for the sake of discretion and chose my

words careful y. “People sometimes do strange things when they’re in a place where they don’t know anyone. I’m not the woman that you knew in Las Vegas…that was…temporary.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Temporary?”

I nodded. “A…phase.”

He pursed his mouth and leaned forward until our faces were mere inches apart. “You’re tel ing me,” he said, his voice low and husky, “that the amazingly sexy, sensual woman I knew and married in Las Vegas no longer exists?”

His words stroked my skin like the blade of a knife—raising gooseflesh and promising peril if I made a wrong move. His eyes were dark and teasing…tempting. Chal enging

me to be that woman again—the one who’d given him ful power over her body and done things she’d only read about, the one who’d fal en under his spel so completely that she’d thrown caution to the wind and married a man with whom she had nothing in common. Only one answer made sense, but I wavered, lured by the promise in his eyes that we could pick up where we’d left off. Five days of pure carnal bliss.

I opened my mouth and the words stal ed on my tongue. I moistened my dry lips. “Redford…”

The tip of his tongue appeared to wet his lips. “Yes?”

“Here’s your food,” the waitress announced.

I sat back and watched awkwardly while she deposited various plates and bowls in front of us. I felt light-headed from the pressure of the decision at hand.

When she left, Redford was stil staring at me. “You were saying, Denise?”

I inhaled deeply, then exhaled. “I was saying that you’re right, Redford. That woman doesn’t exist.”

The light went out of his eyes, but he smiled nonetheless. “Okay. You don’t have to worry—I’l behave myself.” He picked up his fork and knife. “Are we stil on for sightseeing tomorrow?”

I nodded slowly, relieved that Redford had accepted my explanation without question. Maybe we could be friends after al …. And we stil had to get through the audit on Tuesday. “You’l be okay by yourself tonight?”

His eyebrows shot up, then an amused smile curved his mouth. “I’l manage.”

My cheeks flamed. “I didn’t mean—”

“Relax, Denise. I didn’t expect you to entertain me every minute that I’m here. Jim’s coming by tonight and we’re going to get a drink, maybe find a cigar bar.”

Go out on the town, find a couple of girls? To which he had every right, I told myself. “You stil smoke?”

He nodded, then grinned. “I’m afraid you’l find me pretty much the way I was when you knew me before.”

My thighs tingled. He was mocking my assertion that I was different now. I careful y picked up my soup spoon. “So I’l come by your hotel in the morning, say around ten?”

“I’l be ready,” he said, al pleasant politeness.

I watched as he dove into his food with the enthusiasm I remembered—the enthusiasm with which he approached everything in life, including sex. Once upon a time, he had

tackled my body with animalistic energy. It had changed my life…for a few precious days. He’d just let me know that he was wil ing to take me to that place again, where nothing mattered except how good we made each other feel.

I focused on spooning some type of soup into my mouth, but my hand was shaking. I just hoped that Redford wouldn’t notice.

10

WORK FRIDAY
afternoon was a blur. I spent most of it staring at my computer screen, (I received a quick e-mail from Barry who said he’d cal later), and communicating with El en Brant’s voice mail (saying I was looking forward to hearing from her and finalizing the paperwork for her investment account). El en’s assistant final y cal ed me back and asked if we could meet Tuesday afternoon. I couldn’t imagine the audit taking al day, so I agreed. I should have felt happy, but honestly, I felt lousy that I was taking advantage of an opportunity that Barry had arranged, yet I was keeping so much from him. I typed a chatty, understanding e-mail reply to Barry, then looked up laboratory diamonds on the Internet, tel ing myself I needed to be familiar with the emerging industry if an investment opportunity presented itself.

The technology was fascinating—a machine compressed carbon under extreme pressure to form a diamond, in two days replicating the same process that took nature thousands of years to achieve, except the “laboratory” diamond was flawless. (So Redford had been right.) Diamond mine owners were concerned about the competition, but seemed

sure that most customers would prefer “real” diamonds, citing that eternal love was best represented by a natural y formed stone. Creators of the engineered diamonds, however, argued that love was best represented by a flawless stone.

I bit my lip, frowned and logged off.

On the walk home, I found myself looking at my surroundings as Redford might: leaning my head back to gaze at the buildings, taking time to notice the street vendors, even

splurging on a bouquet of Gerber daisies, which were scandalously expensive this time of year. I resisted, however, buying a bag of peanut M&M’s. If I had the wil power to turn down Redford’s offer of a sexual escapade, I could resist anything.

When I arrived home, the tickets to Las Vegas that I’d ordered for me and Barry were in the mail—a reminder that I had made the right decision concerning Redford. I found a

vase for the flowers and nuked a wedge of low-fat lasagna—my scant lunch had left me starving. While I ate, I booted up my laptop to check my wedding-dress auction, then frantical y dialed Cindy.

“SYLVIESMOM is winning!” I said. “You have to bid higher!”

“How high do you want me to go?”

“It doesn’t matter, because there won’t be a transaction. Just keep bidding!”

“Okay.”

I looked at my watch. “Wait a minute—aren’t you supposed to be having a drink with the guy from your class?”

She sighed. “He cal ed and asked for a rain check. He said something had come up. Personal y, I think he got a better offer.”

“That’s not possible,” I murmured, furious with the jerk. “Want to come over?”

“Thanks, but I told my neighbor I’d help her paint her bathroom. You’re not entertaining Redford tonight?”

“No,” I said, too quickly.

She picked up on it. “Did something happen after we talked?”

“No,” I said, then swal owed. “Wel …yes. I found out that Redford’s not married.”

“Real y?”

“No wife, no kids.”

“
Omigod—
maybe he’s stil in love with you!”

I emitted a strangled laugh. “Cindy, that’s ridiculous. If he were in love with me, don’t you think he would’ve gotten in touch with me before now?”

“Maybe he was afraid you’d reject him.”

I laughed again. “Trust me—Redford is afraid of nothing.”

“So, if he’s not in love with you, what does it matter if he’s available?” Then she gasped. “You’re not stil in love with him, are you?”

“No!” I snapped. “I…wel , it just makes me uncomfortable, spending so much time with him now that I know.”

“Are you afraid of him?”

“God, no. Redford would never hurt me.”

“Then what? You don’t trust him?”

“No, of course I trust him. Redford is the most honorable man I know.”

“Ah…you don’t trust yourself.”

“No—I…” I stopped and took a deep breath. “I feel guilty gal ivanting around with a single man behind Barry’s back.”

“Denise, going to the Empire State Building isn’t gal ivanting. Besides, it’s just one day.”

“Two days—I’m going stud-shopping with Redford on Sunday.”

“Come again?”

“We ran into Sam today, and the horse farm is close to his place, so I’m riding up with Redford to see Kenzie.”

“Sounds logical to me.”

I chewed on my lip, then exhaled. “You’re right. It’s completely logical. I’m making too big a deal out of this, aren’t I?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you. Have fun painting. Oh, and don’t forget to raise your bid!”

“I wil !”

I hung up, digesting Cindy’s sensible words, then alternated between compulsively checking my dress auction and picking up the phone to cal Barry and rat on myself. Instead,

I dialed my mother’s cel phone, expecting to leave a message, astounded when she actual y answered.

“Hel o?”

“Hi, Mom. It’s Denise.”