Honeymoon For One

by Chris Keniston

  “Mr. McEntire, this is Steven Williams, my fi...a friend.” She’d almost said it. After five years, the word fiancé rolled too easily off her tongue. “He stopped in to say hi and was just leaving.”

  The swift dismissal dragged Steven’s attention away from her boss and back to her. His glare piercing, possessive, and then she saw it. The moment recognition dawned. His hard stare softened, his stance relaxed. She wasn’t his to protect.

  Her boss extended his hand first. “Nice to meet you.”

  With a resigned sigh, Steven shook hands. “Same here, but I do need to get back to the bank.”

  “A teller?” McEntire asked.

  Pam choked back a laugh.

  “Vice President.”

  The posturing was back.

  ***

  “I thought Angie was coming over for dinner?" Corrie dropped into a nearby kitchen chair.

  "Another night. She promised her mom she'd help her pick out a new bedroom set."

  "Is that what has you all bent out of shape?”

  “I’m not bent out of shape. I did groceries.”

  “Right. And you’re slamming the cans around loud enough to be heard on the next block because...?”

  “I am not...” Michelle brought the can of chili down with a loud bang and stopped to take a deep breath. “It’s been a long day.”

  “At least you didn’t have a chemistry test.”

  At the moment, being seventeen and worrying over a chemistry test sounded like heaven. “I thought you liked chemistry?”

  Corrie looked at her sister as though she’d sprouted a third eye before blowing out an exasperated breath. “No one likes chemistry. That’s so lame.”

  “Since when is science lame?” Michelle folded the paper bag and placed it in the recycling bin. “That kind of thinking isn’t going to get you into med school.”

  Corrie reached for a bag of chips on the counter and tore it open. “I don’t want to go to med school.”

  “What do you mean you don’t want to go to med school?” Michelle turned to look at her sister. “And don’t eat those, you’ll spoil dinner.”

  “Chill. I’m almost eighteen. Only little kids spoil their dinner.”

  “Age has nothing to do with it.” She snatched the bag away. “You’ve wanted to be a doctor since Gramma Betty gave you the Operation game on your sixth birthday. What happened to change your mind?”

  “I’ve grown up. Put away kid’s stuff.”

  Since when was practicing medicine kid’s stuff? Okay, no reason to panic. The key was to not appear upset. Don’t give Corrie reason to be contrary. Try and smile. Michelle had faked pleasant and content all day. What was another hour or two? She turned the burner on under the frying pan. “So, what would you like to be?”

  “A spy.”

  Michelle stared at the pound of ground beef in the skillet. Had she heard wrong? “Spy?”

  Corrie reached for the bag of chips again. “Yeah.”

  Of all the battles of the day, the chips were lagging way behind in priority. What the heck should she say to becoming a spy? Keep it positive. Always positive. “Well, that sounds...interesting.”

  “It’s way cool. Think of all the fascinating people I’d meet. Places I’d go. And all for the good of the country.”

  “Right. So, do you have to go to college to be a spy?”

  “Like the CIA will take any dummy off the street.”

  “CIA? I thought you said you wanted to be a spy?”

  “Duh. What do you think the CIA is?”

  Maybe if she pretended all was well with the world, all her troubles would simply go away. Or maybe she should buy just one teeny little bottle of Baileys. “How many sloppy joes you want?”

  “Two. I’m starved.” Corrie flashed a toothy grin, then the phone rang and she bolted over the table to answer. . “Hello.”

  Setting the dinner plates aside, Michelle stepped over to look at the caller ID. Steven Williams. Her throat closed and her palms started to sweat. Shaking her head like a petulant two-year-old, she waved her hands frantically at her sister. She did not want to talk to him.

  “Gee, she’s, uh...in the shower. You know, long day and all. Can I give her a message?”

  Michelle bit her lower lip. What little appetite she’d had when she’d gotten home had just left the building.

  “Right. I’ll tell her. Bye.”

  “What did he want?”

  “She wants to speak to you. In person.”

  “Beth?”

  Corrie nodded.

  The funny thing was, after seeing Beth at the diner, she was almost worried about her, and she missed her best friend terribly. Right about now the only person she could honestly talk to about Kirk—or Lloyd, the liar—and the cruise, and her sister, and being dumped at the altar, was the person she’d been dumped for. “Do you mind eating alone? I think I’ll skip dinner and go take that shower.”

  Corrie shook her head.

  A long steaming shower, a hot cup of tea, and a sappy book would help her tonight. But what the heck would she do about tomorrow and the next day?

  ***

  “Where’s Pam?”

  Lloyd McEntire stood close enough for the scent of his cologne to tease every one of Michelle’s senses. All week she’d managed to steer clear of the man. Now he'd come within five feet and her every nerve ending tingled with anticipation. Stupid sensory memories.

  “Dentist appointment. Usually she leaves notes for Mr. Harrison on his desk calendar.”

  He looked up from the papers in his hand. For a second she thought he’d only now realized whose desk he was in front of. “I need revenue reports by territory going back eighteen months. I’ve only got six and can’t access the info from the office computer. Who else can get me the numbers?”

  “Mr. Harrison wasn’t very fond of computers. I can access the information for you. Give me a few minutes to print it up, and I’ll bring it to your office.”

  “Mm.” He nodded, and turned on his heel.

  Changing screens, she pulled up the revenue data, typed in the time frame, hit Print, and stared at the empty hallway. The man hadn’t smiled once since he’d arrived. Not that she wanted him to, and certainly not at her, but this wasn’t the same person she’d spent ten days with. No, you idiot. You spent ten days with Kirk, not Lloyd.

  Hidden behind an unending parade of reports, Kirk...Lloyd, rarely came up for air. If he wasn’t buried deep in the financials, or hammering away at his keyboard, he paced his office with the phone glued to one ear. No matter the task, his expression barely changed. Occasionally en route to another department, he’d sweep past her desk, and she would notice a shift from dour to merely glum, but the huge grins and hardy laughs she remembered all too clearly were nowhere to be found.

  Every time Michelle turned around, she spied Pam running in one direction or another and always carrying stacks of reports. Before Kir...Lloyd had replaced Mr. Harrison, Pam would be out the door at five on the dot. So far, Pam hadn’t seen the street anywhere close to five. And according to Madge at the Corner Cafe, Pam had canceled all her dinner dates for the rest of the week.

  On the ship, when Ki...Lloyd told her he worked hard and played hard, she had never imagined this. A stone-faced man who appeared to eat, sleep, and breathe business. According to the grapevine, he stayed in his office till almost midnight every night and only once had he ordered dinner. If you considered ham on rye dinner. Apparently he didn’t need sustenance to maintain his fit physique. And why was she going there?

  The printer spit out the last page. She clipped the report together and took a fortifying breath. Buried in his work, he probably wouldn’t even notice when she stepped into the office. She would knock, set the information he wanted on his desk, and leave quietly. On the other hand, if she simply tossed it across the room from the door, she wouldn’t have to deal with the assault on her senses when she got near him.

  Still convincing herself that entering Kir.
..Lloyd’s office was no different than if Mr. Harrison were still at the helm, she knocked, entered, and found herself standing beside the sexiest man alive. Strands of jet-black hair stood at odd angles. He must be one of those men who raked his fingers through his hair when he thought, but she wouldn’t know that from the ship.

  Having fun in the sun, she was the only one to run her fingers through his thick hair. Something inside her pulled and pushed, and her hand reached midway between him and her before she snapped it back to her side.

  Lloyd McEntire dropped his pen on the desk and reached for the papers Michelle held. “This computer is virtually worthless. The techs will be done by Monday. Then Pam can take a breather.”

  A low-wattage version of his broad smile appeared for a mere second, but the sight made her breath catch.

  “What?” He smiled again. A short chortle. If she’d blinked, she would have missed it. “You don’t think I know I’m working your friend to death?” He shook his head and pushed away from the desk. “I don’t usually impose my work hours on the people around me, but I’ve had no choice. After tomorrow things will be easier. For everyone.”

  His gaze dropped to her wrist. Focusing on her dangling charm, his normally stone-faced expression softened. “I’m glad you’re wearing it.”

  Her heart did a two-step. For a split second she spotted a twinkle in his eye. A glimmer of the man she thought she knew. Wasn’t that a joke? She’d known Kirk. This was Lloyd.

  Uncomfortable with the underlying sentimentality, Michelle turned to leave. She needed to get out of here. Away from him. Whatever they’d had, it had been a fantasy. This was reality. She understood that. But there was one thing she didn’t understand. Why had he lied to her?

  CHAPTER TEN

  Beth sat at the kitchen table dicing potatoes. She’d already cut up enough Idaho spuds to feed half the block but concentrating on the task at hand gave her something to think of besides how she’d betrayed her best friend. “She won’t take my calls.”

  “What did you expect?” Steven yanked at the knot in his tie. “Sorry.”

  Focusing on the slicing motion of every stroke, she fought the urge to cry. “She probably hates me.”

  Steven didn’t say a word. What could he say? There was no excuse for what they’d done. She knew it, Steven knew it, and Michelle knew it.

  A tear slipped down her cheek. “Do you think she’ll ever forgive me?”

  “Us. You mean us.” His fingers rolled around her shoulders, kneading out the tension.

  “No. This is my fault. I let this happen. I should have stopped agreeing to help long ago. Every time I stepped in for Michelle at some gala or other, or when she would leave a party early to be home for Corrie and ask me to stay and keep you company, my heart would beat double time. I knew I was falling in love with you, and I didn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. I convinced myself there was no harm in stealing a little extra time alone with you. If I had been a good friend, the friend Michelle deserved, I would have let go, made up any excuse to say no. If I’d been stronger, you’d be married to her instead of me, and everyone would be happy.”

  “Not everyone. You would have been miserable hiding your true feelings. Michelle and I might have been able to continue deceiving ourselves for a while, but the day would have come when we’d have realized getting married was a mistake. I love Michelle, I always will, but I’m not in love with her.”

  He crouched in front of his wife, set the knife aside, and took both her hands in his. “I’m sorry. I know this is hard. But you and I agreed with a little time to step back and examine her feelings, Michelle will see that she and I were going with what was expected, not what we really wanted—”

  “But—”

  “No. I won’t let you blame yourself. Maybe rushing off to Vegas was a knee-jerk attempt to avoid my father’s wrath, but I still think in time Michelle will accept what you and I had already discovered, if she hasn't already.”

  Blinking back the tears pooling in her eyes, Beth silently cursed the hormonal rush of emotions and smiled at her husband. Her husband. A dream come true. She loved him so much. Only in her dreams she was the happiest bride in the world, and Michelle was still her best friend. No, this was definitely not a dream. Except for being married to Steven, everything was all wrong.

  ***

  “Why not?” Corrie’s whining tone grated on Michelle’s nerves like a screeching catfight at dawn.

  “Corrie, now is not a good time. Our efficiency expert just fired Evelyn and Joyce from human resources. No one expected him to start swinging the ax so soon. We’re all running a little crazy trying to make sure we’re not next. Let’s discuss this when I get home.”

  “Aren’t you listening? The game is tonight. I have to have the permission slip turned in by the end of the school day, or I have to ride the bus. That’s why I skipped lunch to come here and get you to sign it now.”

  Michelle tried really hard to ignore what had become her sister’s standard sigh-and-roll gesture. The heavy breath blew out at the same time the eyes rolled 180 degrees. She hated it. “I just don’t know.”

  “It’s a football game. Not an orgy,” Corrie blurted out loud enough for half the floor to hear, including Lloyd McEntire who at this very moment was making his way across the bull pen to Michelle’s desk.

  “Great,” Michelle mumbled. “Just great. Here comes the new boss.”

  “Is there a problem?” he asked.

  “No, none at all.” She grabbed her sister by the arm and turned her on her heel. “You’d better get back to school.”

  “Then I can ride to the game with Brittany and Billy instead of on the bus with all the losers?”

  Michelle resisted the urge to do exactly the same thing she hated in her sister, sigh and roll. “No. It won’t kill you to ride the bus.”

  “But—”

  “Corrie. You’ll be late for class. Go.”

  Corrie pressed her lips into a fine line, and Michelle knew it was only because her boss stood inches away that her sister stomped off without saying a word. Though the slamming of her boots with every step shouted her displeasure loud and clear.

  Her boss’ gaze shifted from Corrie’s departing back to Michelle. “Bit of a temper?”

  “A bit. I’m sorry about the outburst.”

  “Hm.”

  She could sense the question on the tip of his tongue. “Corrie’s my sister.”

  “Hm.” He nodded, a short, curt gesture she’d become used to over the past several days. “Now that I have a complete picture of the operation, it’s time to implement changes. I’ve cut some of the nonessential support staff in HR.”

  Michelle nodded. What more could she do? Joyce’s husband was a lawyer. He made good money so Michelle wasn’t too worried for her. But poor Evelyn was a single mom with two kids. Michelle had only one almost-grown sister to worry about and the thought of losing her job in this miserable economy scared her to death. If only newspapers weren’t closing their doors across the country faster than the time it took Google dinosaur, her stomach might not feel all twisted up like a carnival pretzel.

  Lloyd McEntire handed her a sheet of paper. “I’m scheduling a meeting with department heads for nine tomorrow morning. I’d like you there.”

  “No problem.” She nodded, unable to force a smile. He’d handed her a meeting agenda. Art department, building services, clerical support, editorial. At least her department wasn’t on the list. Surely that was a good sign. Wasn’t it?

  ***

  Why was this so hard? Lloyd McEntire, the new Iacocca, had never had trouble trimming the fat on a company before. For now, Micki’s job was safe. The ad sales force was the last department he wanted to cut. For her sake, he wanted them to have time to improve the numbers. To toe the line. To give him a good reason not to reduce her department. Local ad revenues had been dropping steadily. National revenues were currently carrying the burden of the small-town paper.

  Tossing the
papers he held onto his desk, he slid into the large leather chair and rubbed his hands along his face as though he could simply wipe away all the frustration. Pam could have emailed Micki...Michelle the agenda for tomorrow’s meeting along with the others. But he’d wanted to see her, hear her voice. Remember what it was like to stand near her and know she would be his.

  God, why was he torturing himself? He needed to stop thinking of her as his Micki and look at her as Michelle, just another employee. And what was the deal with the sister? Maybe their folks were out of town on a trip or something, and Michelle was doing her due diligence as big sister. He’d had to bite his tongue when she’d told her sister no. As long ago as high school had been, he still remembered how it felt to be left out of the cool group, to feel like you walked around with a big L on your forehead. He’d actually felt sorry for the kid. Even if she did have an attitude problem the size of Mount Rushmore.

  Kids. Nothing but trouble. He wondered how Dave was doing with the dog. According to his computer, it wasn't anywhere near lunchtime yet on the West Coast. What the heck. He tapped his phone and pressed speed dial.

  “Dave Griffin.”

  “How’s the puppy doing?”

  “Kirk? Is that you, man? At...what time is it there, barely noon? Where you are?”

  “How’s the dog?”

  “The dog?” Dave chuckled. “Did you hit your head?”

  “No. One of the staff had a little run-in with her kid sister. It got me thinking about how much trouble kids are, which got me thinking about the test child Deb gave you. How is he?”

  “He ate my favorite loafers yesterday, and today he peed on Deb’s new Coach handbag. But Rover’s still alive.”

  “I can’t believe you named your dog Rover. If you and Deb get around to having real kids, you’ll probably name them Dick and Jane.”