A Man In Demand

by Cheryl Anne Porter

  Julie stomped her bare foot. “Not the floor. Here. At this club, Mike. We rented the whole thing for Nana’s party. You know—my family? What are you doing here?”

  “Your party? The Charlotte Nelson birthday party is your party? She’s your grandmother?” “Is your grandma-lady here, too, Julie?”

  She looked at Aaron. “Yes.” She looked at Mike. “Yes.”

  The door behind her swung open. “Whoa. Wrong room. Sorry, Julie.”

  She jerked around in time to see Dan ducking out. The door closed. It opened again almost immediately. Again it was Dan, and he was already unzipping. He went straight to that trough-thingy with Mike and Aaron, and proceeded with the matter at hand. “Dammit, Julie, I almost went in the—Wait a minute. That means you’re—What’re you doing in the men’s room, baby sister? Has Mom reduced you to checking out guys’ packages in here?” His expression faded. “Mom’s not in here, is she?”

  Julie shook her head.

  “Thank God.” He looked over at Mike and Aaron. “Evening. I don’t normally talk to men at a urinal, but I assume we’re related. How you doing? I’m Dan Cochran-the cute-but-crazy woman here’s older brother. I guess you two’ve met?” He kept one hand on his business, but held out his other one to Mike.

  Julie watched Mike’s eyes glaze over. Then, with one deft movement, he turned his back to her, adjusted his.stuff, zipped up and turned back around. “Yeah, I know her. I’m Mike DeAngelo. This is my son, Aaron. And we’re not related.” But gentleman that he was, he shook Dan’s hand.

  “You’re not related to your son?” Dan asked it in all good-natured, blond, blue-eyed innocence. To the naked eye, anyway.

  Julie, still stood rooted to the spot, managed not to flinch when Mike looked from Dan to her, as if to say this was all her fault, and then back to Dan. “Yes. Of course I’m related to my son. And, no, I’m not related to you. Or your sister. For which I will daily thank God.”

  Dan let loose with the famous Cochran laugh that echoed in a hee-hawing manner through the hallowed halls of the men’s room. The cacophony startled Aaron into grabbing his father’s leg. He wasn’t the first small child to be undone by that sound. Julie watched as Mike bent to help the boy make himself decent.

  And somehow that sight gave her the courage to turn tail and run. With her arm out in front of her, she pushed into the door, only to realize it opened inward and that she’d nearly broken her arm. She backed up, jerked on the metal handle, opened it and peeked outside. The coast was clear. She made a mad three-step dash for the door across the tiny vestibule, the door clearly marked Ladies Room.

  Oh, sure, now it was obvious. Once inside, she leaned her back against it and brought her hand up to her chest, as if that gesture could make her heart quit pounding.

  Almost immediately, someone on the other side of the door pushed against it. With a yelp, Julie jumped away and turned around. In walked Federal Agent Mike DeAngelo, looking every bit as serious as a search warrant.

  “Mike! What are you doing in here?” She looked around frantically. There was nobody here but them—at least out here in the large, civilized sitting area with all its mirrors and delicate furniture and long vanity. No telling about the private stalls around the corner, though.

  “What am I doing in here? I think you’ve lost your right to ask that question. Now, what in the hell is going on?”

  “Where’s Aaron?”

  That stopped him. For about a second. “He wanted to see your mother. Your brother’s taking him to her. I assume he’s sane—your brother, not Aaron. I know he’s sane.”

  “He’s sane. He’s an airline pilot.”

  There followed a moment of weighted silence. “Those two things don’t always go together, Julie.”

  It took her a moment to realize that he was again advancing on her. “What are you doing?” She tried to back up. There was no place to go. Her heart pounded against her ribs.

  Then he was right in front of her. And taking hold of her arms. “What am I doing? I’m probably making the biggest mistake of my life, but I’ve been wanting to do this since the first moment I saw you. And I sure as hell hope you want me to, because—”

  And then he kissed her. Full on the mouth. With a ton of heat and passion and swirling tongues and heavy breathing. Stunned, but realizing he was right—she did want him to kiss her, Julie melted into his arms. Thrilled from her scalp to the bottoms of her feet, she put everything she had into returning his kiss.

  Just the very rightness of being in his arms was what finally struck a chord in the functioning part of her mind. That, and the ecstasy of feeling him molded to her from lips to toes, making her happy she was a woman. Whoa, this man was the man for her. To heck with that Caroline chick. Let her get her own. Oh, God, he was her own.

  Julie’s eyes opened. Her vision was filled with tall, dark, handsome and incredibly-good-kisser-for-an-FBI-agent Mike DeAngelo. She pushed him away. Or tried to. She only succeeded in pushing herself backward. Wiping at her lips, she watched him put his hands to his waist. One dip of her gaze down his black slacks revealed he was glad he’d kissed her. Either that, or he had a gun stuffed down his pants.

  Cut to the chase, girl. “Who’s Caroline?”

  He slumped a little bit. So did “it.” Well, she couldn’t help but notice. Locking his black-eyed gaze on her and speaking gravely, he intoned, “She’s my fiancée.”

  Julie swallowed hard, ignoring the lump in her throat. “I know she’s your fiancée. I meant, to me—what is Caroline to me? Everyone here is my family, Mike. Do you realize what that means? Heck, do you realize what this—” she flapped her hand in the air between herself and him “—means?”

  He ran a hand through his hair as he looked everywhere but at her. Then he stepped back, sitting on the low vanity behind him. “I don’t know what she is to you. Her last name is Wyndemere. And that’s a pretty far stretch from Nelson or Cochran.”

  Julie sat down heavily. Good thing there was a chair behind her. “Wyndemere? Of the Boston Wyndemeres?”

  Mike nodded “The very same.”

  “This is not good. Caroline Wyndemere. You have got to be kidding me. Mom has talked about her before like she’s some kind of crown princess. She’s my Nana’s oldest sister’s youngest son’s third granddaughter, or something like that. Anyway, she’s beautiful, blond, and the darling of the rich side of the family. The really rich side.”

  “That’s my Caroline.”

  Julie almost burst into tears. To hear him say—after having just kissed her—that she was his Caroline. Well, what did she expect? He was engaged to marry her. Even so, she made a conscious effort to keep her voice steady. “So, how’d you two meet?”

  His face became all square angles and shadowed planes. Clearly, he didn’t want to talk about this. “At a charity benefit. Mutual friends.”

  “Oh? Like who—the Vanderbilts or the Astors?”

  The expression that hardened his face was probably one he’d perfected for dealing with bad guys. “This isn’t getting us anywhere.”

  “Oh, my mistake. Then, tell me this, how come this is the first time I’ve seen you tonight? My humble family tends to notice people who fly in on their own jets and then arrive in limos. That is how she got you here, right?”

  Mike let out a burdened breath. “You don’t even know Caroline, and you’ve already judged her. But to answer your question, we just got here. And yes, in a limo. We’d have been here sooner, but we ran into some friends over dinner—”

  “She wouldn’t even eat here with the riffraff, huh?”

  He quietly observed her for a moment. Julie tried not to squirm under such trained scrutiny. “Don’t be like that. It’s not attractive.”

  Stung, she bristled to her full seated height. “Well, maybe I’m not trying to be attractive. Did you think about that? I mean, anyone who’s barefoot and has mustard on her dress and barges into the men’s room—”

  “Is my kind of woman.” As if his w
ords alone weren’t surprise enough, he grinned at her.

  She looked down at her skirt and fiddled with it. So, if I’m your kind of woman, what are you doing with Caroline? No, she had no right to think that. Says who? He’d kissed her—that gave her the right. Still, taking three emotional steps back, she looked up at him. “We’ve got to quit meeting like this.”

  The smile was still there and was joined by a warm chuckle. “Yeah. We wouldn’t want people to talk—any more than they’re going to after this.”

  “Yeah, really. So, what are we going to do now?”

  His gaze went to the plush, plump couch along the opposite wall. Julie’s mouth dried. A thrill of warning went through her when she realized she was ready to race him for it. Never in her life had she ever felt such instant, justlet-me-get-my-hands-on-you longing for a man. Boy, had her mother picked one this time. Yeah—her cousin’s fiancee.

  “Do? Well,” he pronounced with a certain finality, “I guess we ought to at least leave the powder room.”

  “Good plan.” She’d meant what were they going to do about what they felt for each other. But his plan had merit, too, even if it was typically male and logical. And it made her mad. “So, once we’re out there, we’ll just pretend you never kissed me. And act like we don’t know each other when we’re introduced, and you’re with your fiancée—my cousin. Lovely.”

  “Don’t be like this. This is the last thing I expected to happen. I shouldn’t have kissed you, and I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. You just keep popping into my life when I least expect it. But it’s my problem—I’m the one who’s engaged.”

  Please, let’s keep talking about your engagement. She covered her emotions by rolling her eyes and being snippy. “Oh, I know full well about your commitment. But don’t worry—I don’t think one kiss is a betrayal of anything sacred. We can tell people we’re kissing cousins.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Enough said on that. We ought to be concentrating on three things. One, your mother will never let us get away with pretending not to know each other. Two, your crazy brother is probably right now the center of attention while he adds another tale to your family history. And three, Aaron’s probably told everyone outside this room about seeing the grandma-lady’s girl in the boys’ pee-pee room.”

  Those last words, coming out of his mouth, should have been funny, but they weren’t. Not under these circumstances.

  A disgusted groan accompanied her words. “All this because I dropped mustard on my skirt and you can’t control your testosterone.”

  “What? Who says I can’t control my testosterone?”

  Ready with a definitive answer, Julie opened her mouth, but a flushing toilet caught her attention. A moment later, a beaming Ida Cochran came out from one of the stalls. “Well, I do, for one, Mike.”

  “Mother! You were in there listening all this time!” Julie was truly horrified.

  “Mrs. Cochran!”

  The queen mother, making her grand exit, inclined her head regally to each of them as she passed by. “Julie, my darling baby. Mike, my future son-in-law.”

  LESS THAN TEN MINUTES later, Julie amended her labeling of “the bathroom scene” as the worst moment in her life. It now held a firm second place to sitting at this gaily festooned, white-clothed table with her family and Mike and Caroline and having to listen to Dan’s teasing recitation of her blundering into the men’s room. She couldn’t wait until he got to the part where Mike came into the ladies room. Literally. While her actions could be laughed off as an innocent mistake, Mike’s couldn’t.

  Forced to adopt a good-natured attitude, Julie surreptitiously watched Caroline’s face as Dan regaled them all with his sister’s latest escapade. His talk of Julie-and-Mikethis and Mike-and-Julie-that was beginning to put a strain on the woman’s smile. Enough was enough, Julie decided.

  “And then Mike says to me will I take Aaron—”

  “Dan!” Julie’s sharp interruption gained everyone’s attention. Despite the deepening heat in her cheeks, she kept her eyes on her brother, seated two chairs away. “Hasn’t Mom taught you any better than to tell bathroom stories at the table? I’m sure we’re not giving Caroline a very good impression of this side of her family.” She smiled at him-brightly, evilly. Shut up, Dan.

  The big lug accepted her chastisement with his customary, good-natured shrug. “Yeah, you’re right. I guess even a Wyndemere knows what goes on in a bathroom, huh, Caroline?”

  People shifting in their chairs and clearing their throats saved Caroline from having to comment on the potty habits of the Wyndemeres of Boston. Disaster averted, Julie let out her breath. Too soon.

  “Hey, Jules, while your mother’s off making the rounds with Nana and her birthday cake, tell Caroline about your promotion.”

  Thanks, Dad Let’s talk more about me. Thus trapped, Julie turned a fake smile on Caroline, who smiled back from her seat across the table. And next to Mike. His arm was curved possessively around the woman’s silk-covered shoulders. Had he no shame? The man’s kiss was barely dry on her own mouth. “No big deal. I’m up for a promotion.”

  That was it. A bald statement of fact. She refused to say more. Did he have his arm around his fiancée to taunt her? She became aware of discreet coughing and shifting among her family. Just then, several children, Aaron and Tommy shrieking happily among them, streaked around their table, trailing balloons and streamers in their wake. When they’d passed, Caroline made her polite rejoinder.

  “How nice for you, Julie. A promotion.” To Julie’s ear, Caroline sounded as if she thought Julie were a small child showing her a watercolor painting and Caroline had no idea what it was. “Your father’s been telling me all about you while Mike was with Aaron a few minutes ago. In fact, Aaron has been talking about you quite a bit, too.”

  “Oh? Has he?” Julie shot Mike a look to see if he looked as guilty as she suddenly felt. He did. Good.

  Caroline glanced uncertainly from her to Mike and then back. “Yes, he seems to be quite taken with you.”

  He who—Mike or Aaron? Julie’s stomach knotted, but she remained wisely silent.

  Caroline smoothed out her expression and continued. “You certainly have my respect, Julie. If it weren’t for Reginald—my personal assistant—I’d be totally lost in our banks in Boston.”

  “Well, thank God for Reginald. I hear that good personal assistants are hard to find these days.” Someone kicked Julie’s ankle under the table. Wincing, she looked over at her sister-in-law, but Joan had her innocent attention trained on her cake plate.

  Julie ignored the rebuke and jumped in with both feet and a sore ankle. “When you say ‘your banks,’ Caroline, do you mean ‘your banks,’ as in ‘you own them’?”

  You had to give her credit. Caroline had the good grace to look embarrassed by her riches. “Afraid so, Julie. But we don’t like to talk about it.” She shook her head apologetically and smiled.

  But Julie refused to feel contrite. Instead, she asked herself, Okay, was this fair? Here was this rich, privileged, really nice woman who’d had everything in life handed to her on a silver platter. Fine. That was just genetics. But does she have to sit across from me with the only man I— Julie Marie Cochran—will ever love and have his arm around her? And his ring on her finger? Was that fair?

  Where had that come from? Julie stared into space for a moment and then chanced a look at Mike. He frowned right back at her. The only man she would ever love? When had that been decided? And by whom? Fighting her own epiphany, Julie forced herself into a nonchalant pose, resting an elbow on the table and supporting her chin with her hand. Thank God, Caroline was still holding court.

  “It’s so wonderful being here with all of you. I wish we’d done this years ago. Being an only child, well…I just love big families. All the hugging and laughter. I can’t wait to start a family of my own.” She turned cow eyes—in Julie’s estimation—on her doting fiance.

  That did it. Julie clattered her fork
onto her dessert plate, drawing everyone’s attention. “Oops, sorry.”

  She made a face right back at Mike and enjoyed watching his face turn scarlet when everyone at the table stared at him, too. Hah.

  Caroline smiled and looked nervously around. “Well, it wasn’t really important. I was just saying that I hope we get to see one another more often. I’ll have to remember to tell Reginald when I get back home—he didn’t come with me this trip.” Caroline paused, her expression uncertain.

  What’s this? Julie focused her feminine radar and shifted her gaze to Mike. He looked ticked off. So-o-o-o, Reginald was a sore spot, huh? Julie looked back to Caroline, only to see her glance at Mike, who was now doing a stonefaced Mount Rushmore impression.

  Poor old Caroline picked up the unraveling threads of her comment. “I’ll tell Regi.him to pencil in visits for us all. It just seems that up until now, what with my living so far away, and with my work—”

  Julie nearly choked on her coffee. “You work?”

  Well, why was everyone looking at her as if she’d just pulled a plucked and squawking chicken out from under the table? She’d asked a simple question, for crying out loud. Setting down her cup, she narrowed her eyes at the reproachful stares trained on her by her brother and his wife, her sister and her husband, her father and Mike.

  Once again, Caroline jumped in, speaking rapidly and drawing all eyes to her. “Yes, I do. Though, it’s not a job, really, and nothing so vital as what you do, Julie. It’s just that…Reginald seems to think I need more to occupy my time. It’s more charity work, I suppose. Oh, now I’m embarrassed because it all sounds so.so self-serving.”

  When she looked uncertainly around the table, Jack Cochran leaned forward. “Oh, come on. We want to know. Tell us.” Julie squelched an urge to hurl her wadded-up napkin at her father.

  Caroline smiled timidly. Man, this girl was not for Mike. He’d chew her up and spit her out inside of a year, Julie was sure. Was she the only one who could see that? Okay, Caroline, tell us all about it.