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Well, okay, that third possibility was a pretty farout fantasy. But she couldn’t wait to see what he would do.
The doorbell rang and the butterflies fluttered themselves into a frenzy. This was it, her moment of truth. If this didn’t prod Jeff into thinking of her as a desirable woman, she didn’t know what would.
She hoisted her suitcase off the bed and wheeled it to the door, where her smaller bag of toiletries was already waiting. “Coming!” she called as she found her purse, a sassy little faux-alligator bag Anne had picked out for her.
Then she held her breath and opened the door.
Oh, Lord, he looked good. But then, he always did. Even as a skinny high-schooler, his broad shoulders and burgeoning muscles had hinted of good things to come.
“Hey, Allie.” He flashed an easy smile. “Are you ready?”
“Um, yeah,” she managed, searching for telltale signs of shock on his face. But he looked perfectly passive.
He spotted her two bags and reached for them. “I’ll get these.” He loped back out to his car, popped the trunk with a button on his key chain and stashed her luggage alongside his. “Hey, we have matching bags.”
“Bought mine on sale at the outlet mall.” She wasn’t sure how she managed to assemble words and phrases into coherent sentences, but she must have been doing all right, because Jeff didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.
And that was just the problem, wasn’t it? she thought with a wave of despair. Her big plan was a big, fat failure. She had changed everything about her appearance, and Dr. Jeff Hardison didn’t even notice.
Chapter Two
Jeff drove along the interstate toward Dallas feeling inexplicably happy. He didn’t particularly enjoy conventions. He wasn’t big on strange hotel beds and banquet food. But he hadn’t been out of Cottonwood for a while, and he supposed the idea of getting away for a few days was appealing.
The weather was fine, so he’d put the top down, enjoying the feel of the fall wind in his hair.
Allison didn’t talk much. Before he’d lowered the convertible top, she’d put on a scarf to protect her hair from the wind and sunglasses to shield her eyes. Now she sat slouched in the passenger seat with a slightly petulant frown, lost in her own thoughts.
That was okay. It was hard to talk with all that wind. One thing he liked about Allison was that he didn’t always feel obligated to carry on a conversation. She was comfortable with silence sometimes.
Maybe he shouldn’t have pressured her into coming with him to Dallas. He probably could have dealt with Sherry some other way. But he was really glad Allison had capitulated. He would have someone to talk to among the sea of strangers, someone to eat meals with and rescue him from boring conversations. Allison could be counted on to ask provocative questions during tedious workshops or volunteer as a guinea pig when a vendor wanted to demonstrate a product.
He looked forward to seeing some old friends at the convention, fellow physicians who came every year basically as an excuse to play golf and escape their wives or girlfriends. He didn’t look forward to announcing his “engagement” to them, though. He was the last holdout, and they would give him a hard time. But if he told them the engagement was fake, and the news leaked out to Sherry, she might know he’d carried out the deception to discourage her, and her feelings would be hurt…for about thirty seconds, before she sank her claws into him.
When he pulled up in front of the Del Mar Hotel, a valet scurried to open his door while a bellman did the same for Allison, then pounced on the bags. That was one drawback to driving a Porsche: everyone assumed you’d be a big tipper.
He didn’t disappoint either man. Then he joined Allison by the revolving door and guided her inside with a hand at the small of her back.
Her bare back. Low-cut jeans and a crop top left her midriff bare. Funny, he couldn’t recall ever seeing Allison’s midsection before. Even when she rode her bike, she wore baggy shorts or sweats and oversize T-shirts.
He pulled his hand away, feeling sort of weird about touching Allison. She was like a sister to him. Of course, if they were going to fool anyone into believing they were engaged, he would have to stifle any brotherly feelings and summon up some fake sexual sparks. He would have to get used to touching her.
The check-in desk was swamped with conventioneers. Jeff resigned himself to standing in line for a while. “You can go sit down if you want,” he said to Allison. “I’ll handle check-in.”
“No, that’s all right,” she said coolly. “I’ve been sitting for three hours. Do you think they have a health club here?”
“It’s a big hotel. I’m sure they do.”
“Good. I missed my usual ride this morning, so I’d like to make it up on the stationary bike.”
“Do you ride every day?”
“Six days a week. I’m training for a century next month.”
“Century?”
“A hundred-mile ride.”
Damn. He was in pretty good shape, and there was no way he could ride a bike for a hundred miles. Not unless someone gave him a week to do it. Since when had Allison become a jock? He seemed to recall that in a high school gym class she’d once hidden in the bushes to avoid being chosen for a softball team.
“Speaking of riding, how’s the elbow?” he asked her. “And the road rash?”
“All better.” She showed him her elbow, which sported a fading bruise and just a thin scab. “I’m a fast healer. Oh, Jeff, I think that woman is trying to get your attention.”
Jeff tensed, thinking it might be Sherry. But then he realized Allison was nodding toward one of the hotel clerks, who had just opened up a new station. She was looking straight at Jeff and motioning him to come be the first in her line, even though there were half a dozen people ahead of him.
Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, he waltzed up to the desk.
“Hi, Dr. Hardison,” the bouncy clerk said.
“How did you—”
“I checked you in last year, remember? You requested feather pillows and a standing wake-up call for 6:00 a.m.”
Jeff was flabbergasted. “How do you remember that? You must check in fifty people a day, if not more.”
“Yeah, but none of them are as good-looking as you,” she said with an unmistakable come-hither look.
Oh, yeah. He remembered her now—remembered that beehive of bright red hair and the china-doll face.
“I have you down for the two-room suite with…oh, with a Ms. Allison Crane.” She blushed.
“Dr. Crane,” Allison said, setting her credit card on the desk.
Jeff scooped up the card and handed it back to her. “I’ll get this…darling.”
Allison’s skin prickled with awareness as the darling sank in. How many times had she fantasized that word coming out of Jeff’s mouth, those blue eyes looking at her with adoration, just as they were now?
This game they were playing was a mistake. She’d known that going in, known that deception of any kind always got her in trouble. But she’d done it anyway, because she’d thought pretending to be engaged might be fun. She hadn’t counted on Jeff being such a good actor, producing these unwanted effects in her.
The clerk looked mortified over her faux pas. “I’m sorry, ma’am. Doctor. Doctor Crane. I wouldn’t have been…I didn’t know he was—”
“Engaged,” Jeff said smoothly. “Allison is my fiancée.”
The clerk found a smile. “How lovely. May I see your ring?”
Allison looked up at Jeff, slightly panicked. “Um, I don’t have—”
“We’re planning to shop for a ring while we’re in the city,” Jeff said. “We don’t really have a good jewelry store selection in our hometown. Cottonwood is pretty small.”
Allison hadn’t realized Jeff could be such a smooth liar.
“You’ll have to show me the rock when you get it,” the clerk said to Allison with a wink as she handed each of them an electronic key, having apparently overcome her embarrassment. “I love diamonds.”
“I’ll bet you do,” Allison murmured, then immediately felt guilty for being so catty. The clerk was just being friendly, and Allison could hardly blame her for flirting.
“You’re in Suite 1516. If you’ll point out your bags, I’ll have the bellman bring them up.”
Jeff gestured toward their matching suitcases, then casually slung an arm around Allison’s shoulders and guided her to the elevator. The clerk watched them walk away, her eyes downright misty, before turning her attention to the next person in line.
“Well, wasn’t that sweet,” Allison said, stepping out of Jeff’s light embrace the moment the elevator doors closed. She hoped he didn’t notice her accelerated breathing, or the fact that beads of sweat had broken out on her forehead. “Is that how it is for you all the time? Women throwing themselves at your feet?”
“No, of course not. Some women just like to flirt. She’s probably saying the exact same thing to the next person she checks in.”
“Oh, I don’t think so. She remembered you.”
Jeff shrugged. “Some women have a thing for doctors. Anyway, getting hit on is a problem women have more than men, I think.”
Not me, she wanted to add, because it was true. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had to fend off an unwanted advance. Maybe it was Hughey Jobson, in sixth grade, who’d threatened to kiss her on the mouth if she didn’t hand over her Twinkies from lunch. But pointing that out would only gain Jeff’s sympathy, not his passion.
“Well, anyway,” she said, “I wish you would warn me next time before you present me as your fiancée. I wasn’t ready.”
“I thought we needed the practice.”
“I’m supposed to protect you from Sherry. I didn’t know I’d have to smile and simper for everybody.”
“No one said anything about smiling and simpering. Jeez, that’s not the kind of woman you think I’d marry, is it?”
“I can’t see you marrying anyone.”
He leaned against the elevator wall and folded his arms. “Why is that?”
“You’re too fickle.” She folded her own arms, mirroring his posture. “You buy a new car every six months. You throw out milk before the expiration date, and you won’t eat a banana if it has a single brown spot. You have no tolerance for imperfection. Every woman you date has some fault—this one has an annoying laugh, that one has too many cats. You look for excuses to dump them. When you’re married, you have to accept a person, faults and all. You have to commit. You can’t just walk away when you get a little bit bored, or when something else attracts you.
“That is why I can’t see you married.”
Jeff just stared at her. Even when the elevator doors opened onto their floor, he still stood there, his mouth slightly open, his eyes glazed.
Belatedly Allison realized she’d been too blunt. He’d been looking for a little harmless banter, and she’d given him a no-holds-barred assessment of his personality. She hadn’t painted a very pretty picture.
“Well, thanks, Allison, for answering my question so…honestly.” He walked off the elevator ahead of her.
Allison felt just awful. Jeff was her friend, one of her very, very best friends. Just because women threw themselves at him was no reason for her to launch such a personal attack toward him. He’d done nothing to her. She supposed her doctor’s appointment with Stephanie tomorrow had her more on edge than she realized, and she was taking it out on poor Jeff.
She hurried down the hall after him. “Jeff, wait. I’m sorry.”
He said nothing, just kept walking until he reached Suite 1516. He opened the lock with his electronic key, then threw the door open and gestured for her to enter.
When she saw the room, she was momentarily distracted from her need to apologize. The suite was gorgeous, the most luxurious space she’d ever seen. She’d never traveled much, and when she did, she stayed in a budget-minded place. It had taken her many years to pay off the huge debts from dental school, then the equipment she needed for her practice. She was out of debt now, but still didn’t like to spend money wantonly. Last year when she’d attended this convention, she’d stayed at a Motel Six.
Jeff’s financial situation was a lot different. His father had paid for med school, then welcomed him into the practice—where the equipment was already paid off.
“Wow.” She wandered from the living room into the bedroom, resisting the urge to kick off her shoes and run barefoot through the inch-thick carpet. “This place must be costing you a fortune,” she said. “Why don’t we split the bill?” Even split in two, the rate would be three times what she normally paid, but it wasn’t fair to make Jeff carry the whole burden, even if this engagement scheme was his idea.
“I can afford it,” he said gruffly.
The bellman arrived moments later with their bags. He set them both up on luggage racks in the bedroom. Allison looked at those matching suitcases, side by side, and thought how cozy they must appear to the bellman.
Jeff tipped the man and sent him on his way. Then he wasted no time grabbing his suitcase and carrying it out into the living area. “You can have this room. I’ll sleep on the fold-out sofa.”
“You mean there’s not a second bedroom?”
“No, this is it.”
“I don’t mind sleeping on the sofa. I’m smaller.” She was proud of the fact she could say that and mean it.
“I’ll try it first,” he said. “But I probably won’t be able to commit to the sofa bed. I’ll find lumps, or it’ll sag in the middle—”
“Jeff…”
“And then I’ll want to toss it aside and go for the king-size bed. C’mon, you know it’s true.”
“I was completely out of line with those comments, and I’m sorry.” She stood in the bedroom doorway, talking to his back as he hoisted his bag onto the sofa and unzipped it. “Truly, Jeff. Can you forget I said them?”
He straightened, then slowly turned, a troubled frown marring his handsome face. “I’ll always forgive you, you know that. But I can’t forget. Is that how you actually see me? I had no idea.”
“I was exaggerating. I was irritated because that beautiful woman threw herself at you, and you took it for granted. I was jealous.”
“Jealous?” He stopped scowling at her.
“Yeah. Because beautiful men never throw themselves at me. It hardly seems fair.” All right, so she was playing her sympathy ticket. Not very commendable, but if she could nudge Jeff out of his pique, she swore she would watch her tongue in the future. He might not see her “that way,” but he was her friend and he cared for her, which gave her the power to hurt him. She’d never realized that before.
He finally smiled. “You’ll find your white knight someday, Allie.” Then he paused, looking thoughtful. “Do I really throw out perfectly good bananas?”
“I saw you do it once. And the—” She censored herself.
“The what?”
“Nothing.”
“What, Allison? Tell me, or I’ll tickle you.”
Oh, no, not the tickle monster. He hadn’t done that to her since junior high, when the mere thought of his perfect hands on the rolls of fat around her middle had prompted her to capitulate immediately to the threat.
Now, the idea of his hands on her ribs—no more rolls of fat—was unsettling for a different reason. Her hormones were already on red alert from the casual way he’d touched her in front of the hotel clerk. She couldn’t handle any more touching at the moment.
She took an instinctive step backward. “I was going to say, ‘And the heels from bread.’ You throw those away, too.”
“That has nothing to do with commitment. I never commit to the heels, even at the grocery store when I first put the bread in my basket. I always tell them up front, ‘I’m not eating you. You’re too tough.”’
