Don’t Call Me Sweetheart

by Jeanette Ward

  “I’d rather start at the end, because I consider it part of my past and I just want to get on with my life,” Whitney answered her, walking over to stare out of the skyline of the most exciting city in the world. It couldn’t compare with the mountains of the Cascades in her opinion.

  “I’m married. I’ll be divorced soon. End of story.”

  “What!” The usually collected Tess was left flabbergasted. “Who are you married to?”

  “Christian.”

  “Christian Dade? Our Christian? Tell me you’re making this up, Whitney.”

  “I’m not making it up,” Whitney said quietly as her shoulders started to tremble. Tess jumped to her feet and wrapped Whitney in her arms before the flood of tears broke free. How long Whitney stood there crying neither was sure but some time later Whitney raised her tear-streaked face to the one belonging to the only person she could count on in the world not to change the way she felt about her. Tess read the pain in the sorrowful eyes and wished Christian was around so that she could tear into him herself for what he had done.

  “Baby, what did he do?”

  “It’s a long story, Tess and I just want to forget it ever happened. Let’s just say I’ve learned a lot about myself and men, enough to know that I was right to spend my life writing about them and keeping them out of everything else. I never want to feel this way again.”

  “You fell in love with him, didn’t you?” Tess gently probed as she rubbed comforting little circles across Whitney’s back.

  Crossing over to the chair she had vacated earlier, Whitney slumped into it and reached forward to retrieve the glass that had fallen to the floor. She held it out in Tess’ direction and said, “Wine this time, all right?”

  As Tess took the glass Whitney covered her swollen eyes with the palms of her hands and leaned her head back. “I fell in love with him. I was a stupid fool to do it but that’s what happened. Somehow when I left New York to get away from him, I managed to end up at his inn in Washington, of all places and fell in love with it too.”

  Tess was listening intently, for once not interrupting.

  “It was for sale, or so I was told by the lawyer representing the owner, so I decided to buy it. Tess, it’s gorgeous, you should see it. Anyway,” Whitney continued, “I almost didn’t go through with it because I found out the seller was Christian. But I couldn’t stand to leave the place, it had come to mean so much to me. It’s hard to explain but there I felt free to be myself, the real Whitney Lane. Not the one who pretended to be Lane McLaughlin’s secretary. Or the poor little rich girl. I could really be me. I even started seeing Christian’s lawyer, Stephan Thayer. He was everything you would want in a man, everything. But I couldn’t get Christian out of my mind.”

  “He had the same problem,” Tess interjected, catching Whitney off guard.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “He spent months looking for you, trying to track you down so that he could apologize for whatever it was he said the night you left. He was pretty torn up about it.”

  “He was?” Whitney couldn’t believe Christian was capable of remorse, let alone obsess over it.

  “Yes, he was,” Tess confirmed, “but what happened next.”

  “Christian came home. He showed up one evening and thought he could just move right back into my suite of rooms as if he still owned the place.”

  “Sounds just like him,” Tess agreed, settling herself into her comfortable chair behind the desk.

  “He-he wouldn’t even leave to sleep elsewhere. He made himself at home in my bed. My bed, Tess!”

  Tess was grinning again at the mental picture. “And you did?”

  “I told him not to keep me awake snoring.”

  “Oh, my. You have changed, haven’t you?”

  “Pretty much,” Whitney agreed. “But the next day I found out the sale of the property was no good and that I would need to ask Christian to sign the documents over again. By then it was obvious that he would never agree to that, the way he was stomping around telling me I had no right to his home, blah, blah, blah.”

  Tess laughed out loud at Whitney’s impression of Christian at his pompous best. She was quite good.

  “So when he suggested that we get married and share the property I saw my chance to retain part ownership. But one of the stipulations was that it was to be a marriage in name only.” Whitney chose to leave out the blackmail portion of the agreement, not seeing any purpose to relating the humiliating details to anyone.

  “Let me guess. He didn’t keep his part of the bargain.”

  “He definitely didn’t keep his part of the bargain. After a day or two of marriage to him I knew it had been a mistake and was going to get it annulled as soon as possible but a huge snowstorm stranded us there together for a few days. An annulment was out of the question by the time the roads were cleared,” Whitney explained shyly, looking away. It was agony to remember what had happened in the gazebo and afterward.

  “Somehow I’m not surprised.”

  “Oh, Tess. It’s not funny. He hates me. Do you hear me? Hates me. He found out that I write as Lane McLaughlin. Do you have any idea how he feels about her?”

  “Trust me, after listening to it for months on end, I know,” Tess answered, dreading hearing what happened next.

  “I just couldn’t stay after he discovered that secret,” Whitney finished lamely, knowing that Tess’ keen senses were picking up on the fact that she was leaving out some of the more vital reasons for her departure but was wisely leaving the subject well enough alone for the time being.

  “Whitney,” Tess began, “how can you be sure Christian hates you? He did marry you after all.”

  “To get his precious inn back. Believe me, there’s no question about how he feels about me.”

  “So what happens next?”

  “I asked Stephan to draw up divorce papers and send them to me as soon as Christian signs them. I agreed to let him have his home back, in fact I even let him keep what I had paid for it and told him to consider it an investment that didn’t pan out. He shouldn’t have any reason not to agree and we can have this thing settled as soon as possible.”

  “Sometimes when you think things are going to be wrapped up all neat and tidy is when they end up the stickiest to unravel,” Tess observed.

  “Not this time,” Whitney vowed under her breath. Aloud she said, “I’m tired of talking about old news, let’s get out of here and go have lunch someplace fun.”

  Tess realized that Whitney had closed the door on any further conversation for the moment. Within minutes they had descended to the first floor of the enormous office building and walked around the corner to a favorite bistro that was just beginning to fill with the usual lunch crowd.

  It was good to be back, Whitney thought.

  It would be good to go back. To Washington.

  “Don’t even go there,” she told herself firmly as she slid into a booth across from Tess and picked up the menu.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Do I look okay, Gabbycat?” Whitney asked her faithful companion as she twirled before her mirror, enjoying the fruits of her the day’s shopping spree. Tess had told her that she was hosting a formal dinner party that evening for a number of the members of the literary world and would be absolutely crushed if Whitney did not come.

  Whitney had agreed but with the understanding that she would be introduced as both Whitney Lane andLane McLaughlin. She was heartily tired of trying to pretend to be someone she wasn’t. There would never be another day when she had to regret misrepresenting who she really was. She had learned a very painful lesson.

  The world would no longer be able to speculate as to her identity. She realized that she would be giving up her anonymity but it was better than the alternative. After a lifetime of hiding, first because of her wealth and then her fame, she was ready to quit. Whatever happened would happen. There was no use trying to change the fate that had been handed her. Look what had happened
already.

  Staring at her reflection Whitney could scarcely believe that the beautiful woman staring back was really her. The strapless cream satin gown clung to her breasts and fell in graceful folds to the floor, leaving an enticing amount of cleavage showing. A single strand of perfect pearls encircled the slim column of her neck and she had pulled the wealth of burnished ringlets away from her face and secured the mass at the crown of her head with a gold clasp. For once, she liked the way she looked. Christian would have too.

  She chided herself for letting thoughts of him intrude on such a special evening. She was going to confront herself tonight. She didn’t need to muddy the waters with bittersweet memories.

  Whitney drew a matching floor-length satin wrap from its hanger and slipped it on over her gown. She was ready for whatever the evening had to offer. By telling the world she was the face behind the name Lane McLaughlin she could lay to rest the last of her demons and perhaps, with a bit of good luck this time, she could get on with her life. It would probably be some time before she would be able to once again work on her writing. She knew her heart just wouldn’t be in it until she had a chance to heal. But it would eventually happen. One thing would be for certain. Christian Dade would never again grace the cover of one of her novels.

  A knock on her door told her that the driver had arrived. Since she was no longer concealing her identities, either one of them, she had decided to take full advantage of all the amenities her station afforded her to do. Tonight, she would arrive in style. Tonight, she would pretend only that her life was as glamorous and happy as the people watching her were bound to assume.

  As she arrived at Tess’ townhouse, she was amazed at how many people were there. Anyone who was anyone had been invited it seemed. Tess had neglected to tell her she could expect such a crowd. The rooms were crammed with beautifully garbed men and women, busy mixing conversation and cocktails. Whitney wound her way up the stairs fanning out around the foyer of the home and found Tess along the balcony above the crowd, engrossed in conversation with a handsome young man she didn’t recognize.

  “Tess,” Whitney interrupted, “you didn’t say that you had invited half of New York to this little ‘dinner party’.”

  “I didn’t? Well, it was just an oversight that I’ll be happy to correct. Whitney, dear, I’ve invited half of New York to dinner tonight and you simply must join us.”

  Tess had obviously had enough cocktails already. “I’m not going to let you make my announcement to all these people,” Whitney whispered, grasping her friend’s arm and ignoring the irritated expression on the face of the man she had intruded upon.

  “Too late. Attention everyone!” All heads swung to regard Tess where she stood above them and a quiet hush pervaded the room. “As you all know, for some time now I have represented Miss Lane McLaughlin as her publicist and have done a marvelous job maintaining the animosity, anonymity…the secrecy she insisted upon regarding her identity. Well, tonight I have the pleasure of introducing you to the talent behind the name, my very dearest friend, Miss Whitney Lane!”

  Whitney stared, beyond mortification, at Tess. She hadn’t expected this. What was she supposed to say now?

  She didn’t need to worry because in the next instant a familiar voice could be heard coming up the stairs and the crowd turned to follow what the striking gentleman was saying.

  “You’ve got it all wrong, Tess. That isn’t Whitney Lane. Recently she became Mrs. Christian Dade.”

  The crowd gasped in unison. The famous romance author was married to her equally famous cover model?

  Whitney watched as Christian approached from below. He was dressed in a black tuxedo, a splash of red at his waistband and neck. He was nothing if not perfect. Her heart actually skipped a beat as her eyes met his across the distance and she saw that he was looking at her with anything but the hatred she had expected. His black hair was slicked back just as it had been that day on the set at Jag’s and the sight of his broad shoulders and trim hips moving under the genteel confines of his formal attire set her blood on fire.

  What did he want? Hadn’t she already given him everything she had to give?

  Lord, he was right in front of her, she could actually feel the heat of his body and every eye in the house was trained on them. Whitney wanted to die.

  “Whitney, my sweetheart.” The sound of his deep voice was amazingly sensual and as always had the desired effect.

  “Why are you here, Christian?” Whitney interrupted him in a scathing whisper, her eyes darting nervously to the assemblage below.

  “I’ve brought you a gift, wife.” Christian said as he reached one hand into the breast pocket of his coat and drew out an envelope. Whitney eyed him suspiciously.

  Opening the envelope Christian unfolded the document that was inside. He turned it so Whitney could see that it was their marriage license. That was it. He intended to make her humiliation complete by granting her divorce in public. She had no idea that even he could be so cruel, so heartless.

  “Whitney, the way our marriage took place was a monumental mistake making nearly every aspect a sham of the worst sort. We both made mistakes and I’m sure we both have regrets.”

  That much was true.

  “Christian. Do we have to do this here?” Whitney beseeched him in a strained whisper.

  In the next instant Christian tore their license into hundreds of small pieces of paper and threw them over the balcony to fall in a shower of confetti onto the people gathered under them watching the performance, mesmerized by each word and action.

  “We could say we wanted to get rid of the marriage, let it be torn to shreds as easily as that paper. But I don’t think we will.”

  “We won’t?” Whitney paled and whispered in a small voice only Christian could hear.

  “No, we won’t,” Christian answered, reaching out and drawing her into the protective circle of his arms, his gleaming black eyes fusing with her own. “We can’t. A judge told us we were married and a judge might tell us that we’re not but nothing will change the fact that I willalways feel married to you. Whitney, I willalways love you.”

  Christian’s lips swooped down and claimed Whitney’s in a demanding kiss meant to sear her soul. The crowd roared their approval. Whitney couldn’t comprehend any of it other than the fact that Christian had said he loved her. He loved her!

  Her arms wound themselves tightly around his neck, drawing him ever closer, telling him that she would never let him go. Whatever had come between them in the past would be locked away there forever. They had each other and the world was an open book. Book! What about books? He hated hers, he had made that painfully clear. How could they have a future together when he despised the very essence of her being?

  Christian felt her stiffen in his arms and knew instinctively she had discovered more obstacles for him to shatter before their happiness would be complete. Nothing, absolutely nothing was going to stand between him and the wife he had finally decided he couldn’t live without. It had taken him thirty-odd years to come to that realization and he wasn’t going to let anything alter it now.

  “What, love?” he asked Whitney, raising his head the barest fraction of an inch, his words whispered against her flushed lips. “Ask your questions now, because I swear after tonight you’ll never be given another chance to wonder if this was the right decision.”

  With his mouth trailing tantalizing caresses around the corners of her own Whitney had trouble concentrating on what she was trying to say. Both had forgotten that they were providing uniquely provocative entertainment to Tess’ guests.

  “Which of us do you want to stay married to, Christian? Whitney Lane or Lane McLaughlin?”

  “I can take the good with the bad,” he crooned into her ear following his words with the tip of his tongue not caring that they were putting on quite a show. He was fighting to save his marriage and his weapon of choice was a powerful one, albeit best deployed in private.

  “The good and th
e bad!” Whitney screeched under her breath, trying not to show him, or any of the hundred or so spectators, how much his touch was affecting her.

  “Ummm. I’m really more fond of Whitney when she’s being verrry bad but I’ve given some thought to what you said about Lane and I suppose that if I stopped blaming her for my problems I could allow that she has some good qualities herself. Doesn’t mean I like her yet, I think I may need to spend more time with her, find out just how much she does know about this romance stuff and what goes on behind closed doors.” The warm breath of air Christian blew into her ear turned Whitney into a quivering mass of white-hot flames.

  If he hadn’t shut the door on her profession there might be room to hope that their relationship wasn’t doomed. She was a writer wasn’t she? Trained to find happy endings? Well, if she couldn’t recognize that she had just been handed one herself she should get out of the business and save him the trouble of trying to compromise his feelings.

  “You have to admit that having the cover model hanging around the house just waiting to be summoned for a little role-playing in order to make sure you have the love scenes done right isn’t a bad idea.”

  I’d vote for that plan.

  “Well,” Christian prompted her, his hands slipping into the thick mass of her hair and tilting her face to his own. Crystal clear green eyes sparkled back at him and he read in their depths that he had won. “Say it, Whitney. Say you’ll be mine forever.”

  Whitney laid her hands on either side of his handsome face, gently smoothing away the little worry lines around his eyes as he waited for her to say the words he desperately needed to hear. She loved this face, the rugged features that could make her heart turn over within her breast with just a glance, the sensual lips that held the promise of endless nights of pleasure, but most of all the dark, expressive eyes that at that moment were blazing with a love so pure that she had never thought to find such a precious treasure for herself. More than anything she wanted to share the rest of her life with this man.