“Natalie, can’t you see that I—”
“I can see that I shouldn’t have tried this in the first place.” Her voice was shaky but resolute. “It was pretty stupid of me. Goodbye, Jonah.” She turned and walked toward the front door.
He wanted to stop her from leaving, but he didn’t know what he could say that would make everything okay. A short while ago he’d kidded himself that they lived in the same world, after all. Now he understood that they were light-years apart.
BLINDED BY HER TEARS, furious with Jonah and even more furious with herself, Natalie decided to keep walking until she got a grip on her emotions. With her sunglasses firmly in place, nobody would be able to tell she was crying, and the brisk movement helped. She’d find a cab when she’d calmed down. If she calmed down. The way she felt at the moment, she might have to hoof it the length of Manhattan.
Damn Jonah. How could he possibly think the only reason she’d made love to him was to get material for her mother’s book? She’d bared her soul to him, letting him know her in ways that no one else on this earth did, and yet this morning he was ready to believe the worst about her.
Well, to hell with him. If he was that quick to condemn her, he was no hero, either for her or her mother’s book. A small voice suggested that maybe she’d handled the evening poorly, that she should have found a way to tell him about the book before they made love. But that still didn’t excuse Jonah’s rush to judgment. He’d seen into her very heart, and he should have been willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. He should have been willing to at least talk about her mother’s project.
She’d considered telling him about Alice’s depression and why writing this book was so important, but his attitude had been so hostile that she was damned if she’d reveal more personal information about her family and her problems. Maybe he didn’t believe rich people got depressed. Beth Sullivan was right about his attitude toward wealth—he had a massive chip on his shoulder. Because he assumed her mother was rich, he also assumed her book was a silly little hobby that meant nothing.
The more she thought about his prejudiced reaction, the angrier she got, until she was practically race-walking down the sidewalk.
“Hey, it’s her!”
She glanced up and saw a man across the street motioning to his two friends.
“It’s the girl who was on the yacht, the one with Jonah Hayes!” the man called out. “Hey, Natalie, did Jonah kick you out?”
She stood poised like a wild animal caught in a hunter’s scope. She couldn’t believe that someone would recognize her, let alone make such personal remarks. The three men started to cross the street, and by now other people had begun to notice her. She glanced frantically around for a cab and saw one about a block away. Getting a good grip on her suitcase, she whistled the cab down and started jogging toward it. Mercifully the driver saw her and started backing in her direction.
“Don’t run away, sweetheart!” called one of the men.
“How about a cup of coffee and a doughnut?” shouted another one. “You’d be safe with me. I know the Heimlich maneuver.”
She yanked open the back door of the cab and jumped in, pulling her suitcase with her. “Central Park West.”
“Sure thing.” The cabbie pulled into traffic before glancing in the rearview mirror at his passenger. “Say, aren’t you the one that was on the yacht yesterday? With the fireman who saved your puppy?”
“No.”
The cabbie shrugged. “If you say so. But you could be her twin sister. You’re even wearing the same kind of clothes she had on. Did you see it on TV?”
“No.” Natalie tried to make herself smaller and less conspicuous. When she got home she’d have to burn this outfit. Maybe she’d dye her hair red.
“Well, the two of them were on this fancy boat,” the cabbie continued, apparently feeling chatty. “That was part of the prize from that bachelor-auction deal set up by Heart Books, I guess. Anyway, they were eating lunch, and the girl choked on something and this guy saved her with the Heimlich maneuver. True-life drama.”
Natalie tried to tune him out. Remembering yesterday inflicted too much pain. Yesterday was B.D., Before the Disaster. Yesterday Jonah was still a hero, her knight in shining armor. Today he was just another schmuck.
“I tell you, my wife just about swooned when she saw how he jumped to that girl’s rescue, especially after the puppy episode a few months ago. She said the guy—I think his name is Jonah something—should run for mayor.”
Natalie remained silent. At last the cabbie seemed to get the idea that she wasn’t interested in conversation and started humming to himself. Natalie closed her eyes and leaned her head against the seat in total exhaustion. She ached all over. An hour ago she hadn’t minded the little aches and pains that naturally accompanied a night of almost constant lovemaking. She’d even welcomed the twinges as evidence of time well spent. Now she heartily resented them. Especially the hollow ache in her heart.
NATALIE FORTIFIED HERSELF with a couple of hours’ sleep before she went to see her mother. She would rather not go at all, but she’d promised to report in, and if she didn’t show up, Alice would be down to check on her. Besides, her mother was keeping Bobo, and Natalie wanted to see her dog. She could use a dose of unconditional love right now.
The minute Alice opened the door, Natalie smelled homemade soup. Her mother hadn’t made soup since her father died. The curtains were open and sunlight streamed into the familiar apartment. All evidence of Alice’s depression seemed to be gone.
Natalie was determined not to rain on her mother’s parade. “Hi, Mom!” she said, avoiding eye contact by dropping to her knees to greet Bobo, who’d hurled himself at her. “How’s my boy? Oh, that’s a good dog! Did you miss me?”
Panting happily, Bobo rolled to his back to have his tummy scratched. For some reason his exuberance made Natalie want to cry. Not good. She deliberately dragged out the time spent playing with him until she was reasonably sure she was in control of herself.
“Well? Tell me all about it!” her mother said. “I know you two ran away from the Plaza, which was so romantic. It gave me another idea for a scene in my book. I’ve been typing away, having the best time. You and Jonah are a real inspiration for my muse.”
A sense of failure nearly overwhelmed Natalie. How could she tell her mother that the romance was over and watch the light go out of Alice’s eyes? She hadn’t been this animated in ages, and Natalie was about to squelch that glowing spark. Dammit, anyway. The first project to lift her mother’s depression might fizzle because Jonah wouldn’t cooperate.
“Natalie? You’re being awfully quiet. Is anything wrong, sweetheart?”
She couldn’t burst her mother’s bubble. She just couldn’t. Maybe if she bought a little time, she’d figure out what to do. She glanced up from petting Bobo. “It’s just that I’m very tired,” she said, acting as if the admission embarrassed her a little.
“Ah.” Her mother smiled indulgently. “I won’t pry into the reasons for that. When you left the Plaza, it was obvious to everyone watching, including me, that you two wanted to be alone. I can imagine how exciting that must have been for you, considering how you feel about him.”
“Right.” Natalie gave Bobo a final pat and stood. The weekend certainly had been exciting. And now she longed to wring a certain fireman’s neck. “So the book’s going well?”
“It’s going great. I’ve decided to write what I can and hold off on the scenes where I’ll need Jonah’s help. Do you think he will help me? I can hardly wait to meet him. When will you be seeing him again?”
Her mother’s eagerness nearly broke Natalie’s heart. “Uh, well, we—”
“Never mind.” Alice laid a hand on Natalie’s arm. “I’m sure you want to spend time alone at first and really get to know each other. I don’t need to barge in at this point and invade your precious privacy. After all, you have a lot at stake. Have you admitted to him about blowing your retirement f
und on the auction?”
Natalie’s head began to throb. Thirty-three thousand down the drain, not to mention her mother’s project in the dumper. “Not yet.”
“I’d love to know his reaction. I don’t see how he could be anything but flattered that you’d be so reckless in order to be with him.”
“I don’t know. Jonah’s not big on flattery.” Now there was the understatement of the century.
“I still think he’ll be deeply touched, and very impressed. A reporter on the news said that women have been sending bouquets by the dozens to his station. But I’d say your gesture has them all beat.”
“I guess so.” Natalie thought about all that money. Sure, it had gone for a good cause, and she could take some comfort in that, but her gesture hadn’t accomplished what she’d needed it to accomplish. Dammit, she couldn’t just let that sacrifice be in vain.
“I need to go check my soup,” Alice said, turning to go into the kitchen. “Would you like a bowl, darling? Or are you living on love?”
“I would love a bowl,” Natalie said, determined to eat something. She would need her strength to deal with Jonah. Because, in the past few minutes she’d decided that he was indeed going to help her mother. She’d just gone about the whole thing wrong. She’d allowed herself to succumb to the attraction between them, and that had been a horrendous mistake.
But she’d learned something about Jonah by spending the evening with his neighbors in the apartment building. He was constitutionally incapable of turning his back on a person in trouble. Alice’s depression over the death of her husband had been Natalie’s trump card, and she’d let it go to waste. At first she’d been reluctant to reveal the situation until she knew Jonah better, and then she’d been too proud to tell him after he’d insulted both her and her mother’s project.
However, pride couldn’t figure into this, not when Alice’s mental well-being was at stake. She would explain to Jonah why he needed to help her mother, and he would respond. But she had to be very strong about one thing. They must not, under any circumstances, make love again.
11
THE WIG ITCHED and the mustache was on crooked. Natalie sighed and slowly eased the mustache off so she could try again. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined she’d have to disguise herself so that people wouldn’t recognize her on the street. But her picture, along with Jonah’s, had been plastered all over the Sunday edition of the Times. Besides that, clips of the yacht trip and the escape from the Plaza kept showing up on television.
Just her luck that not much was happening in the city these days, so the media had focused on Jonah’s supposed romance with the puppy lady. Natalie felt as if all of Manhattan was preoccupied with her life, and she couldn’t believe how she hated it. Her answering machine was filled with messages from people wanting an interview, relationship advice, her hairdresser’s name, a lock of her hair, a lock of Bobo’s hair. The list seemed endless.
She’d had a taste of this craziness over the weekend, but until Sunday morning, she’d had Jonah’s protection to mute the effect. Now she faced the onslaught alone, and she wasn’t having a bit of fun. She finally understood the hell he’d been through after Bobo’s rescue.
More important than that, she could understand why he’d been so upset, so quick to condemn her when she’d told him about her mother’s book. He’d endured this kind of hounding for weeks, until he probably expected everyone he met to want a piece of him. No doubt he’d hoped she was different, but in all honesty, she hadn’t been. No wonder he’d snapped.
She would tell him that tonight, assuming she could get her mustache to stay on. According to Mrs. Ruggerelo, Jonah had been on duty at the station but was expected home sometime tonight. Once Natalie had told Mrs. Ruggerelo about her mother’s depression and the book project, she’d agreed to let Natalie into the apartment to wait for Jonah.
Natalie had figured out early in the week that she’d have to create a disguise to visit Jonah. She couldn’t risk being followed or recognized when she walked into his building. The press already knew where she lived and worked, but her notoriety would fade soon because she was only The Girlfriend, and soon she wouldn’t even be considered that. Jonah had to protect himself, though, especially if women got wind of the fact he was free.
Free. The thought of him becoming involved with another woman curdled her insides, so she tried not to think about it. The main thing to remember was that she couldn’t be involved with him, not if she wanted him to help her mother. And definitely not if he believed the only reason she’d made love to him was to enhance her mother’s research.
Finally the mustache seemed glued on straight. One thing was for sure, she was in the right town for disguises. She’d had no trouble finding the wig and mustache, or the oversize trousers, derby hat and dark overcoat. She belted a pillow inside the waistband of the trousers, pulled on the overcoat, put on the derby and left her apartment.
People stared at her as she caught a cab and directed the driver to the Lower East Side, but when she left the cab two blocks from Jonah’s apartment and started to walk, no one called out her name. There were a few curious glances, though. For the first time since Sunday morning, she relaxed. Let them think she was a kook, just so no one recognized her.
A light rain fell as she walked, and she turned up her coat collar. She’d been too busy with her disguise to think about the weather and bring an umbrella. At the entrance to Jonah’s building, she buzzed the Ruggerelos’ apartment.
“Trick or treat,” she called into the intercom. “It’s Natalie in disguise.”
Mrs. Ruggerelo’s amused voice came on immediately. “I’ll meet you at Jonah’s, cara mia.”
As Natalie climbed the stairs, she remembered how excited she’d been going up these same stairs on Saturday night. And how heartbroken descending them again Sunday morning. Why, oh why, had she allowed herself to be swept along in a wave of passion?
She knew the answer. Jonah, with his intense eyes, generous nature and breathtaking body was irresistible. Approaching his apartment now she felt warm with desire, and he wasn’t even there. When he arrived, she’d have to be very strong and show no feeling for him whatsoever.
Mrs. Ruggerelo hurried down the hall from the other direction. When she caught sight of Natalie, she clapped her hand to her mouth and her eyes widened.
Natalie smiled. “What do you think?”
“I think you look like Charlie Chaplin on one of his bad days.” She shook her head. “But I wouldn’t have recognized you until you smiled. Or until I looked close at your eyes.”
“That was the idea. I didn’t want to give away Jonah’s location, and with the way people recognize me now, they’d figure it out if they saw me here.”
Mrs. Ruggerelo nodded as she put her key in the lock of Jonah’s door. “Now you’re a celebrity, too.”
“And I hate that.”
“Well, that’s where you and Jonah are alike.” She opened the door and went inside, flipping on a light. “Now, I have to warn you, he’s in a terrible mood.”
Natalie followed. “That’s my fault. I handled this business about my mother’s book all wrong.”
“Could be.” Mrs. Ruggerelo stood with her hands on her hips, surveying the apartment. “What a disgrace. He’s never left the place like this.”
Natalie had to admit the living room was a mess. The Sunday paper was strewn over the floor, as if Jonah had tossed it in a fit of anger. Which he probably had. Half of a sausage pizza sat in its box on the coffee table beside a couple of empty beer bottles. The can of peanuts he’d offered her Saturday night lay halfway across the room, its contents spilled as if it, too, had been the victim of Jonah’s fury. And although she distinctly remembered folding his Knicks T-shirt and laying it on top of his dresser, it was in a wadded-up heap on the couch.
Mrs. Ruggerelo glanced at Natalie. “Looks like the boy’s in love.”
Natalie’s jaw dropped. “Are you kidding? He’s furious wit
h me.”
“Yes, he is.” Mrs. Ruggerelo chuckled. “I’m sorry to laugh, but you look so funny in that mustache. I guess you must have stuffed a pillow down your front, too. You look like a pregnant old man.”
Natalie glanced down at her bulging middle. “Maybe I overdid it with the pillow, but I didn’t want anybody to notice I was a woman.”
“I’d love to be a mouse in the corner when Jonah sees you in that getup. Unless you’re going to take the mustache and wig off.”
“No way. It’s too hard to put the mustache back on, and I still have to be disguised when I leave.”
“Well, maybe you’ll make him laugh and he’ll forget how mad he is. And remember that he wouldn’t be so upset if he didn’t care about you.”
Natalie’s heart squeezed at the thought, but she pushed the idea away. “If he really cared about me, he wouldn’t have accused me of using Saturday night for research on my mother’s book.”
“I’ll bet he didn’t really mean that.” The little Italian woman leaned down to pick up a section of the newspaper. “You weren’t, were you?” She made the question sound casual.
“No!”
“I didn’t think so.” She picked up another section of the paper and glanced at a picture of Jonah and Natalie fleeing from the Plaza. “Leo argued with me when I told him I was going to let you in. He said you could be making this up about your mother’s book. He kept reminding me about that movie Fatal Attraction where the bunny gets boiled.” She looked up from the newspaper and straight over at Natalie.
“I’m not into boiling bunnies, Mrs. Ruggerelo. Writing a romance is the first thing my mother’s been interested in since my father died. Before she got this idea, I was wondering if…if I’d lose them both.” She’d never spoken that fear aloud, figuring people would discount it, but it felt very real to her.
Mrs. Ruggerelo nodded in understanding. “It can happen.”
Single, Sexy...And Sold! Page 12
