Twin Surprise

by Jacqueline Diamond

  The smile playing around the corners of his mouth heightened the impact. To Marta, he represented all things desirable and unattainable.

  The tall man strolled to the emcee’s stand and coolly poured himself a drink from the pitcher of water. He settled onto the edge of a table, one foot on the floor, and surveyed the audience as if taking its measure.

  “Wow,” Zandy murmured. “There’s a guy worth paying for.”

  Exultantly, Marta shared his triumph as the bids started flying. The bartender. The nurse. Women who’d tried and lost before, and others who’d apparently waited until now.

  Some were older, some younger, a few quite beautiful. Almost all better dressed and more sophisticated than Marta. She wished—

  Tracy’s appearance interrupted her train of thought. “Here’s my check.” She passed it to Marta. “Thanks for the tip about Joel. He should make an interesting subject.”

  At the table, Marta scribbled a receipt. “Don’t be too hard on the guy.”

  “Our readers will love him.” Tracy folded the receipt into her purse. “Thanks!”

  Marta rejoined Zandy. “The amount’s gone over three hundred,” the woman explained.

  “Really?” Fantastic! That meant Derek would top Joel, as he’d wished.

  It also meant the women wanted him badly. Despite the disclaimers about the auction being merely for fun, Marta had noticed that many considered this an opportunity to meet eligible males.

  Inside the main room, someone had offered three hundred ten. A pause extended until a familiar voice cried, “Three-fifteen!”

  From the stage, Hale frowned at the audience. “Hey! That’s my wife!”

  Why would Connie bid on Derek? Puzzled, Marta gripped the door frame. It made no sense, unless…

  “Don’t worry! It’s for a friend!” Rachel hollered.

  “I’ll thank you to refer to our dashing bachelor as ‘he’ rather than ‘it,’” Hale rejoined.

  “Okay, he’s for a friend,” Connie responded merrily.

  As her cousin returned to the fray, the grim truth struck Marta. Her friends weren’t de-emphasizing her birthday celebration this year. Instead, they’d planned a surprise treat without considering that, in the process, they were announcing to the world the humiliating fact that Marta Lawson had a crush on Sergeant Hit-and-Run.

  Marta wished her friends had forgotten the occasion entirely. Or that she might become invisible for, say, the next couple of years.

  Instead, she stood there frozen, awaiting the outcome.

  Chapter Five

  The smile on Derek’s face hardened into a mask. He doubted even the most enthusiastic of the other guys had truly enjoyed the experience once they got up here onstage, and he for one loathed being treated like cattle.

  It’s for a good cause for a good cause for a good cause. The words repeated through his mind. Sitting with apparent ease and maintaining an air of savoir-faire took more concentration than one might expect, but he maintained his composure.

  Derek scarcely noticed who was bidding, except when Hale mentioned his wife. Then he caught sight of Connie waving.

  She was bidding for a friend, Rachel said. So they intended him for Marta’s birthday present, did they?

  The realization eased his stress. Now, that wouldn’t be bad. He could relax in Marta’s company.

  She was peeking in the entrance, her eyes round and her color pale beneath the fluorescent lights. She looked more embarrassed than thrilled. Marta never intentionally thrust herself into the spotlight, probably because she was self-conscious about her limp and scars. Any person unable to ignore a few surface imperfections and appreciate the bubbly spirit underneath didn’t deserve her friendship.

  The bidding went to three thirty-five before Connie nailed the purchase. She and Rachel high-fived each other when Hale announced their victory.

  Derek felt almost guilty taking money for something he’d have done for free if they’d asked. But of course, the funds went to the center. Besides, he’d won the informal contest with Joel.

  Once the clapping died, the audience dispersed. For an uneasy moment as Derek tried to rise, he feared his muscles had locked in place. A slight push against the table hoisted him upright, however.

  “Fine job.” Hale clapped his shoulder. “You knocked ’em dead.”

  “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

  The two descended together from the stage and moved into a side hallway. A crush of people had gathered in the office wing: fellow bachelors, bidders, volunteers, Tracy Johnson writing down quotes and Yolanda thanking everyone. Two women stood with their gazes glued to a firefighter who’d stripped to the waist while changing from a soccer jersey into a sweatshirt.

  Derek stepped into the records room to collect his jacket. He emerged to see Will Lyons congratulating the men.

  “Great job, guys.” The chief shook hands with Joel.

  “Thanks. It was fun.” Joel made room for Derek.

  “You did the force proud, Sergeant,” Lyons greeted him.

  “The center’s a worthwhile cause.”

  The chief stopped on the verge of replying. Judging by his narrowed eyes, he’d spotted something or someone unpleasant.

  Turning, Derek caught sight of Vince Borrego talking to Yolanda in the small, adjacent reception area. Well, that explained it. Didn’t their former leader have better sense than to hang around a place crawling with the coworkers he’d dishonored?

  The old chief had gotten off easy, in Derek’s opinion. True, the man had been forced into retirement and his marriage had crumbled. Nevertheless, Norm Kinsey had lost not only his job but also his pension. His offense—abusing a prisoner—had been so serious that some critics contended he should have received jail time. Still, Borrego had attempted to whitewash Kinsey’s misdeed, which, for a man in a position of authority, made him equally culpable in Derek’s view.

  Their betrayal of the department’s ethical standards felt personal. Derek had admired those men when he’d joined the force twelve years ago. He hadn’t forgiven Borrego, and neither, to his knowledge, had anyone else at the bureau.

  “What a great idea!” Young Ben Lyons, whose thin figure must have been hidden by Borrego’s bulk, shifted into view as he addressed Yolanda.

  What was a great idea?

  “We should discuss this in private,” the center’s director told Vince. “Of course I appreciate your interest.” She glanced at Will. “Your son performed miracles with our old sound system tonight, Chief.”

  “Glad he could contribute.” That was Will’s manner, cool and guarded. Probably not the reaction the young man had hoped for, judging by a flash of disappointment on his face.

  How did people repair fences with rebellious kids? Even fifteen years past his adolescence, Derek had never established with his parents the kind of rapport they fell into so easily with his younger siblings.

  “Yo, Derek.” Connie dodged between a firefighter and one of the bidders. “Tomorrow night at seven, okay? Dinner and dancing. I’ll give you Marta’s address.”

  “Maybe we should plan our own date,” he countered.

  “It’s for her birthday,” Connie continued fiercely. “She’s going to have an absolutely fabulous experience, top-drawer, elegant and memorable. Comprende?”

  “You mean we can’t go down to the county dump and watch the trucks unload?” he asked.

  Connie issued an unwilling chuckle. “You better be kidding.”

  Her husband joined them, his expression mildly perplexed. “You could have warned me, Con. My bride was bidding for another guy, and in public, yet!”

  “Sorry. I didn’t think of that,” she admitted. “It’s for Marta’s birthday.”

  “That’s a generous present,” Hale said. “Not that I object, but I wouldn’t figure Derek for her type.”

  The man had a point. Why had Connie and Rachel singled him out? “Dr. Federov might have been more to her taste,” Derek agreed, although he didn�
�t like to think about Marta falling for someone so, well, bland.

  A blink of hesitation, and then Connie said, “We went for the sexiest bachelor on the block. Only the best for my cousin! Second best, since the emcee wasn’t available.”

  Hale beamed. “Now, there’s a response I like.”

  “On that note, we’d better collect our son.” Connie patted Derek’s arm. “You have our phone number. Call me tomorrow for directions.”

  “Will do.”

  Left alone, Derek tried to spot Marta. No sign of her, although the crowd was thinning. Perhaps she’d remained in the auditorium.

  He glanced into the large room. Thanks to a swarm of volunteers, tables and desks had already replaced the rows of seats. Atop a ladder, Rachel detached one of the few remaining posters.

  Marta must have left. Too bad. Derek would have liked a word with her.

  Outside, he retrieved the sedan he’d bought six months earlier to replace his low-slung sports car. Easier to slide in and out of, and it had a superior sound system.

  He turned onto Arches Avenue where, despite the relatively early hour, traffic was light. Villazon wasn’t a party town like, say, Huntington Beach.

  Ahead, a pickup sped along, weaving in its lane. In no mood to ruin his evening with a traffic stop, Derek nevertheless slowed and kept the vehicle in sight, in case it posed a danger to other motorists.

  The guy zipped onto a side street, taking the corner too fast. Because of the spotty lighting, Derek didn’t get a clear view of what happened next. A blur near the pavement…a furry shape flying through the air…a sharp yip…The pickup rolled on, its driver oblivious or indifferent.

  Although Derek would have loved to bring the jerk to account, checking on the animal’s well-being seemed more important. After rounding the corner, he stopped in a safe spot and exited, holding a flashlight. The blanket and medium-size cage he carried in the trunk could wait till he assessed the situation.

  On the sidewalk, he approached the crumpled shape with caution. A circle of light revealed a spotted dog of mixed breed, whimpering with pain and fear.

  “Are you hurt, pooch?” he asked. Shock might also account for the dog’s reaction, although normally an injured animal ran away. Crouching, Derek registered the presence of a collar and tags. Only an irresponsible owner would allow a dog to run free; perhaps this one had escaped. “It’s okay, boy. I won’t hurt you.”

  Since the animal neither growled nor flattened its ears, Derek extended his free hand to be sniffed. A pang in his shoulder caused his arm to jerk, which must have frightened the dog. Whining, it lumbered to its feet and loped off, favoring one leg.

  Chasing would only scare it into running faster. Besides, Derek didn’t put much faith in his sprinting powers.

  He followed the animal until it vanished between two houses. Since it was running freely now and presumably lived nearby, he retreated to the car.

  Out of nowhere, rage filled him, entirely out of proportion to the seriousness of the incident. Maybe that twinge had nothing to do with Parkinson’s disease, but Derek had always relied on his physical strength. Now he no longer trusted his own body.

  He gripped the steering wheel. He was going to lick this disease, he reminded himself. Research promised new treatments, even future cures. Something had to come along, because Derek couldn’t imagine a future as an invalid.

  He gave the area a last visual sweep. Seeing no sign of the dog, he resumed the drive home.

  Maintaining a pose onstage had left him aching all over, although at least he’d pulled off the auction with pizzazz. Dinner and dancing? He hoped Marta wouldn’t mind taking things a little easier than that tomorrow.

  Regardless of what Connie had in mind, perhaps the two of them could share a casual supper and spend the evening at the movies. Marta would most likely prefer that to some romantic nonsense, anyway.

  *

  Marta awoke on Saturday determined to call the whole thing off. After the auction, she’d tried in vain to find a moment alone with Connie and Rachel. But too many other people were around, and besides, she hadn’t wanted to attract Derek’s attention.

  Of course, she reflected as she sat on the floor performing a series of stretching exercises, surely she could feign indifference for one evening. Couldn’t she?

  Yet Derek instinctively moved on a woman, as she’d seen during their encounter at his condo. One kiss and she’d fall into his arms.

  Would that be so terrible?

  Yes, because once she felt his powerful body against hers, she wouldn’t be able to resist giving him anything he wanted. She was already half in love with the guy. To fall the rest of the way would spell disaster.

  In a postage-stamp clear space at the center of the studio apartment, Marta launched into a series of sit-ups. Why did she have to fall for the biggest ladies’ man in Villazon, anyway?

  In high school, she’d had no trouble attracting boyfriends, usually the easygoing sort. During senior year, she’d hit it off with a guy named Joey, whom she’d dated right through homecoming, the prom and graduation.

  They’d drifted apart after Joey joined the army and she enrolled at Cal State Fullerton. Letters and e-mails gradually diminished, and when they met at Christmas, they’d shared only a faint nostalgia.

  Caught up in studying for a teaching career, Marta hadn’t dated anyone seriously in college. Then the crash, followed by years of surgery and rehab, had torn her life apart.

  By the time the doctors declared her healed, Marta had inexplicably developed a craving for a guy completely out of her league. The fact that she liked him as a person made the situation even tougher.

  Keeping him at a distance had become essential. Much as she hated disappointing her friends, she had to say no. Since Connie and Rachel both recognized at least some of her feelings for Derek, she supposed she might as well level with them.

  A rap at the door startled her. Who could be dropping by at 9:00 a.m.? She hadn’t eaten breakfast and was still in her pajamas.

  Puzzled, she undid the locks. In sauntered her cousin, effortlessly attractive in designer slacks, silk shell and a short jacket. Beside her was Elise, wearing the usual off-duty jeans and sweatshirt.

  Marta wondered if Connie had somehow confused their two policewoman friends. “Where’s Rachel?”

  “She had to work.” Elise cleared her throat. “I heard them discussing a makeover and asked if I could tag along. I’d like to look my best for Mike tonight.”

  “Makeover?” Uh-oh. “I’m fine the way I am.”

  Connie surveyed the poodle-print pajamas. “Like that?”

  “You know what I mean!” Marta hadn’t asked for coddling and, worse, she could hardly confess her painful secret in front of Elise. “Besides, I haven’t had breakfast.”

  Connie headed for the kitchen, where she set out Marta’s cereal and removed the nonfat milk from the fridge. “Eat while I tell you the plan.”

  “What plan?”

  “First we hit the Brea Mall and buy you a new outfit. After lunch, you’re scheduled for makeup and a haircut at my salon. Elise is getting the same, so it’ll be like a pajama party.” Without missing a beat, she added, “Not those pajamas, of course.”

  Several objections sprang to mind, starting with, “I can’t pay for this and neither should you.”

  “I’m not.” Connie put a kettle of water on the stove. “This is a gift from my mom.”

  “From Aunt Anna? I’ll bet you cajoled her into it!” Marta said, then, seeing no alternative, plopped onto the chair. Elise hung back, watching the cousins as if they hailed from an alien planet.

  “Your much-too-stingy aunt is rolling in money, loves to shop and has ignored her niece for years,” Connie responded. “Mom’s only request is before-and-after photos.” Producing her phone, she snapped what had to be the world’s most unflattering shot.

  “Delete that!”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. It’ll give Mom a thrill to see the tremend
ous improvement in your appearance.” Connie eyed the display. “That is disgusting.”

  “You’re shameless!” Marta declared between mouthfuls of cereal. “Anyway, I can’t go because I’m tutoring this afternoon.”

  “Yolanda postponed it to four o’clock, which leaves plenty of time,” Connie advised. “She agrees with our plan completely.”

  Unbelievable. Marta’s life had turned into a runaway train.

  “I appreciate your letting me tag along,” Elise added. “I could use advice from both of you. It’s been ages since I paid attention to my appearance.”

  The desire to argue warred with compassion. Since nothing short of an earthquake would dissuade Connie, and possibly not even that, Marta switched her attention to their friend.

  “If I had half your sex appeal, Elise, I’d be thrilled,” she confessed. “Put on a provocative outfit and guys will follow you around with their tongues hanging out.”

  Elise crossed her arms. “I don’t want guys following me around, and I’d rather not imagine their tongues hanging out.”

  Belatedly Marta recalled her mentioning that that had been precisely her problem in high school. No wonder Elise preferred jeans and sweats.

  Connie poured hot water into mugs and fixed two instant coffees. “There is such a thing as a happy medium,” she said as she found a tea bag for Marta.

  “That’s why I’m counting on you both.” Elise stirred sweetener into her drink. “I can’t figure out what would be Dr. Federov’s style. I mean, Mike’s. Don’t you think he’s cute?” she added.

  “Adorable,” Connie seconded. “A good man and great with kids.”

  “What are your plans for the evening?” Marta asked, grateful to see her cousin focus on someone else.

  “He’s cooking dinner at his condo. The guy’s a gourmet,” Elise enthused. “He claims he developed an interest in cuisine out of self-defense. He’s a vegetarian and it’s hard to find good restaurants.”

  “Sounds like you two had quite a chat after the auction,” Connie noted.

  “We went out for a drink. Oh, and he invited me to a party with friends after dinner tonight. A small group of professional people, not the kind of crazy bash Hale throws.” More tactfully, Elise amended, “I mean, used to throw before you got married. Any ideas about what I should wear?”