Just Curious

by Jude Deveraux

  On the wall of the elevator was a bronze plaque that listed all the Taggerts in the building, and toward the bottom it looked as though Loretta’s new recruit had been busy again, for a piece of paper had been glued over McAllister Taggert’s name that read, “Marvelous Jaguar.” Smiling, Karen took a pen out of her pocket and changed it to, “Macho Jackass.”

  When the elevator stopped, she didn’t know whether it was the wine or her defiance, but she felt better. However, she did not want another encounter with Taggert. While holding the door open, she carefully looked up and down both corridors to see if anyone was about. Clear. Tiptoeing, she went down the carpeted hall to the secretaries’ office and, as silently as possible, removed her coat from the back of the chair and her purse from the drawer. As she was on her way out, she stopped by Miss Johnson’s desk to get notes from her drawer. This way she’d have work to fill her time over Christmas.

  “Snooping again?”

  Karen paused with her hand on the drawer handle; she didn’t have to look up to know who it was. McAllister J. Taggert. Had she not had so much to drink, she would have politely excused herself, but since she was sure she was going to be fired anyway, what did it matter? “Sorry about your office. I was sure you’d be out proposing marriage to someone.”

  With all the haughtiness she could muster, she tried to march past him.

  “You don’t like me much, do you?”

  Turning, she looked him in the eyes, those dark, heavily fringed eyes that made all the women in the office melt with desire. But they didn’t do much for Karen since she kept seeing the tears of the women who’d been jilted by him. “I’ve typed your last three prenuptial agreements. I know the truth about what you’re like.”

  He looked confused. “But I thought Miss Gresham—”

  “And risk breaking those nails on a keyboard? Not likely.” With that, Karen swept past him on her way to the elevator.

  But Taggert caught her arm.

  For a moment fear ran through her. What did she really know about this man? And they were alone on this floor. If she screamed, no one would hear her.

  At her look, his face stiffened and he released her arm. “Mrs. Lawrence, I can assure you that I have no intention of harming you in any way.”

  “How do you know my name?”

  Smiling, he looked at her. “While you were gone, I made a few calls about you.”

  “You were spying on me?” she asked, aghast.

  “Just curious. As you were about my office.”

  Karen took another step toward the elevator, but again he caught her arm.

  “Wait, Mrs. Lawrence, I want to offer you a job over Christmas.”

  Karen punched the elevator button with a vengeance while he stood too close, looking down at her. “And what would that job be? Marriage to you?”

  “In a manner of speaking, yes,” he answered as he looked from her eyes to her toes and back up again.

  Karen hit the elevator button so hard it was a wonder the button didn’t go through the wall.

  “Mrs. Lawrence, I am not making a pass at you. I am offering you a job. A legitimate job for which you will be paid, and paid well.”

  Karen kept hitting the button and looking up at the floors shown over both doors. Both elevators were stuck on the floor where the party was.

  “In the calls I made I discovered that you’ve worked the last two Christmases when no one else would. I also found out that you are the Ice Maiden of the office. You once stapled a man’s tie to your desk when he was leaning over you asking for a date.”

  Karen turned red, but she didn’t look at him.

  “Mrs. Lawrence,” he said stiffly, as though what he said were very difficult for him. “Whatever may be your opinion of me, you could not have heard that I’ve ever made an improper advance toward a woman who works for me. My offer is for a job, an unusual job, but nothing else. I apologize for whatever I’ve done to give you the impression that I was offering more.” With that he turned and walked away.

  As Karen watched, one elevator went straight from the twelfth floor down to the first, skipping her on nine. Reluctantly, she turned to look at his retreating back. Suddenly, the image of her empty house appeared before her eyes, the tiny tree with not much under it. Whatever she thought of how he treated women in his personal life, Taggert was always respectful to his employees. And no matter how hard a woman worked to compromise him, he didn’t fall for it. Two years ago when a secretary said he’d made a pass at her, everyone laughed at her so hard, she found another job three weeks later.

  Taking a deep breath, Karen followed him. “All right,” she said when she was just behind him, “I’ll listen.”

  Ten minutes later she was ensconced in Taggert’s beautiful office; a fire burned in the fireplace, making a delightful rosy glow on the table that was loaded with delicious food and what seemed to be a limitless supply of cold champagne. At first Karen had thought of resisting such temptation, but then she thought of telling Ann that she’d eaten lobster and champagne with the boss and she began to nibble.

  While Karen ate and drank, Taggert started to talk. “I guess you’ve heard by now about Lisa.”

  “The redhead?”

  “Mmmm, yes, the redhead.” He refilled her glass. “On the twenty-fourth of December, two days from now, Lisa and I were to be in the wedding of a good friend of mine who lives in Virginia. It’s to be a huge wedding, with over six hundred guests flying in from all over the world.”

  For a moment he just looked at her, saying nothing. “And?” she asked after a while. “What do you need me for? To type your friend’s prenupt?”

  McAllister spread a cracker with pâté de foie gras and held it out to her. “I no longer have a fiancée.”

  Karen took a drink of the wine, then reached for the cracker. “Excuse my ignorance, but I don’t see what that has to do with me.”

  “You will fit the dress.”

  Maybe it was because her mind was a bit fuzzy with drink, but it took her a moment to comprehend, and when she did, she laughed. “You want me to pose as your fiancée and be a bridesmaid of some woman I’ve never met? And who has never met me?”

  “Exactly.”

  “How many bottles of this have you drunk?”

  McAllister smiled. “I’m not drunk and I’m absolutely serious. Want to hear more?”

  Part of Karen’s brain said that she should go home, get away from this crazy man, but what was waiting for her at home? She didn’t even have a cat that needed her. “I’m listening.”

  “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but three years ago I was …” He hesitated and she saw his eyelashes flutter quite attractively. “Three years ago I was left at the altar of my own wedding by the woman I planned to spend the rest of my life with.”

  Karen drained her glass. “Did she find out that you were refusing to say the lines ‘with thee my worldly goods I share’?”

  For a moment McAllister sat there and stared, then he smiled in a way that could only be called dazzling. And Karen had to blink; he really was gorgeous, with his dark hair and eyes and a hint of a dimple in one cheek. No wonder so many women fell for him. “I think, Mrs. Lawrence, that you and I are going to get along fine.”

  That brought Karen up short. She was going to have to establish boundaries now. “No, I don’t think we will, since I do not believe your tragic little-boy-lost story. I have no idea what really happened at your wedding or all those other times women refused to marry you, but I can assure you I am not one of these lovesick secretaries who think you were ‘Miserably Jilted.’ I think you were—” She halted before she said too much.

  Enlightenment lit his face. “You think I was ‘Magnificently Jettisoned.’ Or do you think I am a ‘Macho Jackass’? Well, well, so now at last I know who the office wordsmith is.”

  Karen couldn’t speak because she was too embarrassed—and how had he found this out so quickly?

  For a moment longer he looked at her in speculati
on, then his face changed from feel-sorry-for-me to that of one friend talking to another. “What happened back then is between Elaine and me and will remain between us, but the truth is, the groom is her relative and she is going to be at the wedding. If I show up alone, with yet another fiancée having left me, it will be, to put it kindly, embarrassing. And then there is the matter of the wedding. If there are seven male attendants and only six female, women get a bit out-of-sorts about things like that.”

  “So hire someone from an escort service. Hire an actress.”

  “I thought of that, but who knows what you get? She could audition Lady Macbeth at the reception. Or she could turn out to know half the men there in a way that could be awkward.”

  “Surely, Mr. Taggert, you must have a little black book full of names of women who would love to go anywhere with you and do anything.”

  “That’s just the problem. They are all women who … well, they like me and after this … Well …”

  “I see. How do you get rid of them? You could always ask them to marry you. That seems to cure every woman of you forever.”

  “See? You’re perfect for this. All anyone has to do is see the way you look at me and they’ll know we’re about to separate. Next week when I announce our split, no one will be surprised.”

  “What’s in it for me?”

  “I’ll pay you whatever you like.”

  “One of the engagement rings you give out by the gross?” She knew she was being rude, but the champagne was giving her courage and with every discourteous thing she said to him, his eyes twinkled more.

  “Ouch! Is that what people say about me?”

  “Don’t try your sad-little-boy act on me. I typed those prenuptial agreements, remember? I know what you are really like.”

  “And that is?”

  “Incapable of trust, maybe incapable of love. You like the idea of marriage, but actually sharing yourself, and above all sharing your money, with another human, terrifies you. In fact, as far as I can tell, you don’t share anything with anyone.”

  For a moment, he gaped at her, then he smiled. “You certainly have me in a nutshell, but coldhearted as I am, it still embarrassed me that Elaine left me so publicly. That wedding cost me thirty-two thousand dollars, none of which was refundable, and I had to send the gifts back.”

  Refusing to give in to his play for sympathy, she repeated, “What’s in it for me? And I don’t want money. I have money of my own.”

  “Yes. Fifty-two thousand and thirty-eight cents, to be exact.”

  Karen nearly choked on her champagne. “How—?”

  “My family owns the bank in this building. I took a guess that it might be the bank you use, so I tapped into the files after you left my office.”

  “More spying!”

  “More curiosity. I was checking to see who you were. I am offering you legitimate employment, and since this is a very personal job, I wanted to know more about you. Besides, I like to know more about a woman than just the package.” Taking a sip from his champagne glass, he looked at her the way a dark, romantic hero looks at a helpless damsel.

  But Karen wasn’t affected. She’d had other men look at her like that, and she’d had one man look at her in love. The difference between the two was everything. “I can see why women say yes to you,” she said coolly, lifting her glass to him.

  At her detachment, he gave a genuine smile. “All right, I can see that you’re not impressed by me, so, now shall we talk business, Mrs. Lawrence? I want to hire you as my escort for three days. Since I am at your mercy, you can name your price.”

  Karen drained her glass. What was this, her sixth? Whatever the number, all she could feel was courage running through her veins. “If I were to do this, I wouldn’t want money.”

  “Ah, I see. What do you want then? A promotion? To be made head secretary? Maybe you’d like a vice presidency?”

  “And sit in a windowed office doing nothing all day? No, thank you.”

  McAllister blinked at her words, then waited for her to say more. When she was silent, he said, “You want stock in the company? No?” When she still said nothing, he leaned back in his chair and looked at her in speculation. “You want something money can’t buy, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” she said softly.

  He looked at her for a long moment. “Am I to figure out what money can’t buy? Happiness?”

  Karen shook her head.

  “Love? Surely you don’t want love from someone like me?” His face showed his bafflement. “I’m afraid you have me stumped.”

  “A baby.”

  At that McAllister spilled champagne down the front of his shirt. As he mopped himself up, he looked at her with eyes full of interest. “Oh, Mrs. Lawrence, I like this much better than parting with my money.” As he reached for her hand, she grabbed a sharp little fish knife.

  “Don’t touch me.”

  Leaning back, McAllister refilled both their glasses. “Would you be so kind as to inform me how I’m to give you a baby without touching you?”

  “In a jar.”

  “Ah, I see, you want a test-tube baby.” His voice lowered and his eyes grew sympathetic. “Are your eggs—?”

  “My eggs are perfectly all right, thank you,” she snapped. “I don’t want to put my eggs in a jar, but I want you to put your … your … in a jar.”

  “Yes, now I understand.” Looking at her, he sipped his drink. “What I don’t understand is, why me? I mean, since you don’t like me or exactly think I’m of good moral character, why would you want me to be the father of your child?”

  “Two reasons. The alternative is going to a clinic, where I can choose a man off a computer data bank. Maybe he’s healthy but what about his relatives? Whatever I may think of you, your family is very nice and, according to the local papers, has been nice for generations. And I know what you and your relatives look like.”

  “I’m not the only one who has been snooping. And the second reason?”

  “If I have your child—in a manner of speaking—later you won’t come to me asking me for money.”

  It was as though this statement were too outlandish for McAllister to comprehend, because for a moment he sat there blinking in consternation. Then he laughed, a deep rumbling sound that came from inside his chest. “Mrs. Lawrence, I do believe we are going to get along splendidly.” He extended his right hand. “All right, we have a bargain.”

  For just a moment Karen allowed her hand to be enveloped in his large warm one, and she allowed her eyes to meet his and to see the way they crinkled into a smile.

  Abruptly, she pulled away from his touch. “Where and when?” she asked.

  “My car will pick you up at six A.M. tomorrow, and we’ll leave on the first flight to New York.”

  “I thought your friend lived in Virginia,” she said suspiciously.

  “He does, but I thought we’d go to New York first and outfit you,” he said bluntly, sounding as though she were a naked native he, the great white hunter, had found.

  For a moment Karen hid her face behind the champagne glass so he wouldn’t see her expression. “Ah, yes, I see. Based on what I’ve seen, you like your fiancées to be well coiffed and well dressed.”

  “Doesn’t every man?”

  “Only men who can’t see beneath the surface.”

  “Ouch!”

  Karen blushed. “I apologize. If I am to pretend to be your fiancée, I will try to curb my tongue.” She gave him a hard look. “I won’t have to play the doting, adoring female, will I?”

  “Since no other woman to whom I have been engaged has, I see no reason you should. Have some more champagne, Mrs. Lawrence.”

  “No, thank you,” Karen said, standing, then working hard not to wobble on her feet. Champagne, firelight, and a dark-haired, hot-eyed man were not conducive to making a woman remember her vows of chastity. “I will see you at the airport tomorrow, but, please, there’ll be no need to stop in New York.” When he started to say so
mething, she smiled. “Trust me.”

  “All right,” he said, raising his glass. “To tomorrow.”

  Karen left the room, gathered her things, and took the elevator downstairs. Since she didn’t feel steady enough to drive, she had the security man call a cab to take her to a small shopping mall south of Denver.

  “Bunny?” Karen asked tentatively as a woman locked the door of the beauty salon. Looking at Bunny’s hair, Karen couldn’t decide if it had been dyed apricot or peach. Whatever, it was an extraordinary shade.

  “Yes?” the woman asked, turning, looking at Karen with no recognition in her eyes.

  “You don’t remember me?”

  For a moment Bunny looked puzzled, then her fine pale skin crinkled in pleasure. “Karen? Could that be you under that … that …?”

  “Hair,” Karen supplied.

  “Maybe you call it hair but not from where I’m standing. And look at your face! Did you take vows? Is that why it’s so shiny and clean?”

  Karen laughed. One of her few luxuries while married to Ray had been having Bunny do her hair and give her advice on makeup and nails, and pretty much anything else in life. For all that Bunny was an excellent hairdresser, she was also like a therapist to her clients—and as discreet as though she’d taken an oath. A woman knew she could tell Bunny anything and it would go no further.

  “Could you do my hair?” Karen asked shyly.

  “Sure. Call in the morning and—”

  “No, now. I have to leave on a plane early in the morning.”

  Bunny didn’t put up with such nonsense. “I have a hungry husband waiting at home, and I’ve been on my feet for nine hours. You should have come earlier.”

  “Could I bribe you with a story? A very, very good story?”

  Bunny looked skeptical. “How good a story?”

  “You know my gorgeous boss? McAllister Taggert? I’m probably going to have his baby and he’s never touched me—nor is he going to.”

  Bunny didn’t miss a beat as she shoved the key back into the lock. “I predict that that hair of yours is going to take half the night.”