by Toni Blake
“We’re not much alike, though,” she rushed to add, lest he turn and flee the scene. “We have very little in common.”
“You look alike.”
“Not really,” she claimed. “Especially not since…well, Mindy cut her hair and dyed it red.”
Benton blinked. “She’s really a blonde?”
She nodded again. “Just like me.” For fun, she almost instructed him to look for Mindy’s roots the next time he saw her, but caught herself, because that would sound tacky, and catty, and tonight, at least for a while, she had to be the woman of Benton Maxwell’s sophisticated dreams. “Would you like to come in for a moment?”
She wasn’t sure why she asked, only that she’d felt the conversation ball was still in her court and didn’t have a good return ready. Though as Benton stepped uncertainly across her threshold, she hoped the simple, down-to-earth qualities of her small home wouldn’t turn him off.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
He checked his watch. “Well, our reservations are in half an hour at the Greenwood Room downtown.”
Typical. Rushing the date. But no matter. She was his dream woman, and dream women never balked; they smiled, so that’s just what she did. “All right then. Let me turn off the lights and I’ll be ready.”
As she crossed the room, flipping off first one lamp, then another, she couldn’t deny hoping her date was taking in her form from behind. After all, he’d asked for petite and shapely, and she’d worked hard to keep her figure the last few years and didn’t mind having it noticed.
“So, Mandy, what do you do?”
She turned toward him with another angelic expression, pleased to have this part all worked out. “I’m an administrative assistant.” Because administrative assistants had to be smart, of course, but men who had administrative assistants, which probably included Benton Maxwell, didn’t always realize just how smart they were. Besides, it wasn’t a career that required years of schooling, so it would be perfectly believable if she claimed readiness to give it up. Modern-day secretary seemed the perfect profession for Mandy.
“Very good,” he said in that annoying you-have-my-approval way that made her want to smack him, but she kept on smiling. “Where do you work?”
She stopped dead in her tracks. It was a simple question. Preposterously simple. Yet she’d not bothered to think ahead to that part, assuming he wouldn’t care enough to ask. But with her Mandy smile still pasted in place, Mindy calmly scanned her surroundings, until a glance through the wide doorway to her kitchen drew her attention to the bottle of dishwashing liquid on the sink.
“Procter and Gamble,” she said, naming the biggest, most historic business in the city. Not just anyone could snag a job there, and being in admin at P&G said smart when necessary as well as anything possibly could. Benton Maxwell’s impressed nod seemed to agree. “But not downtown,” she added. “I work in the complex in Blue Ash.” She knew he worked downtown, and couldn’t risk discovering his offices were right next door or something.
Little did Mindy know she was such a good liar. But she supposed she was glad to find out, since she had a whole evening of it ahead of her.
When Benton held open his car door a few minutes later, he watched her long, slender legs stretching from beneath her little skirt as she climbed inside. And as the Mercedes headed down I71 toward the city, Benton kept stealing glances at his date. Mandy. Mindy’s twin. He couldn’t believe it. Other than the hair, the resemblance was amazing. He still suspected the night would be a washout—he couldn’t imagine any sister of Mindy’s being wife material for him—yet he couldn’t quit looking at her.
She was really quite hot, in a classy way, a trait Benton found highly appealing. Her dress was sophisticated yet profoundly feminine, hugging her curves, but not too tight; the fabric simply outlined them, drew your attention without shoving them down your throat. And her shimmery pink lips were downright tantalizing. Pink wasn’t usually a color Benton would choose for a woman—he thought of it as being too frou-frou—but Mandy pulled it off perfectly. Everything about her bespoke refinement underlain with something demure and sexy.
“How long have you been at P&G?” he asked, hoping to build on their earlier conversation.
“Since college.” She flashed another glistening pink smile. “Eight years now.”
Benton figured that made her about thirty. Perfect. Old enough to have a firm sense of herself and what she wanted in life, yet young enough to remain attractive and vibrant—and also possibly ready to have children, something Benton definitely wanted.
“So you’re happy there,” he said.
She gave her head a thoughtful tilt. “I’ve enjoyed my job immensely over the years…but I don’t want to do it forever.”
Curiosity pinched at him. “No? What else are you interested in pursuing?”
She gave a hesitant half-smile which, for some reason, made his groin tighten a little. “Well, this may sound rather old-fashioned, but I suppose if I ever find the right guy and settle down, I’d like to try a simpler, less hectic life. Perhaps be a full-time wife and mother.”
She was blushing a little, looking to him for approval—and little did she know pure happiness was flooding his entire body. No wonder his groin had tightened; already he had a feeling about this woman, a big feeling. It had to do with sexual attraction, but also with how comfortable he felt around her. It had to do with the short-term pleasure of looking into her eyes and hearing her voice, but with Benton’s long-term plans, as well. He might be jumping the gun—he was a sensible enough man to know that—but he didn’t think any woman he’d ever met had set off such a perfect combination of emotions inside him, let alone doing it ten minutes after meeting her. Even if she was Mindy’s sister.
“I hope you don’t think that sounds…unambitious,” she offered.
He shook his head quickly, caught up in gazing at her. “Not at all. I think it’s great.”
“Benton, the road!”
Yanking his eyes back to the windshield to find himself bearing down on a semi-truck moving too slow in the fast lane, he pressed on the brakes, slowing the car—after which a peculiar warmth climbed his cheeks. Oh God, he was blushing. He couldn’t recall the last time anything had made him blush. He didn’t look at her, just said, “Sorry about that,” as he veered into the Third Street exit lane leading into the Lytle Tunnel.
He didn’t risk glancing at her again until they left the tunnel, emerging up into the city. When he found her smiling, he sheepishly returned it, feeling as out-of-sorts as a sixteen-year-old kid on his first car date.
Pulling up to the Greenwood Room, Benton took a ticket from a valet who greeted him by name, then met Mandy on the sidewalk. She curled her hand around his elbow as they proceeded toward the red-carpeted entrance and Benton felt like a king—not only was he walking into his favorite restaurant with a gorgeous woman on his arm, but he really, truly liked her. He kept reminding himself that it would be wise to keep his doubts in place, not trust in something so contrary to the rest of his Mates By Mindy experiences, but he had to admit maybe he’d misjudged the matchmaker. After all, how bad could she be if she had a sister this pleasant? And Mindy had fixed him up with her. He decided to officially forgive Mindy for the bad encounters they’d shared getting to this point, since, if this worked out, it would all easily be worth it.
After being seated at an intimate table for two in the dimly lit room, a black-and-white clad waiter approached. “Good evening, Mr. Maxwell.”
“Good evening, Henry.”
As Benton ordered a 1994 Pinot Gris, he felt Mandy’s admiring gaze and thought—finally, someone who appreciated a man with his particular set of skills. After the waiter departed and Benton drew his gaze down to hers, she didn’t look away, didn’t even blink, and it made him a little warm, in a way that had to do with more than just being admired. The instant chemistry he’d felt with her was beginning to override the other more logical reasons he was at
tracted to her, the sexy spell being woven by their eyes broken only when another waiter arrived with two menus.
“The baked lobster here is excellent,” he began when the waiter walked away, yet then he recalled thinking the other two women he’d taken out hadn’t been pleased about his ordering for them, and he didn’t want to screw this up. “If you like lobster, that is. I’m sure everything here is quite good.”
She flashed a smile overtop the leather-bound menu. “I’d love to try the baked lobster. And I so respect a man who knows his way around a fine restaurant. I adore extravagant evenings out like this, but being with a man like you does takes the pressure off.”
They both laughed and he wondered what good deed he’d done to make fate smile upon him this way at last. “I’m discovering it’s rare to find a woman who really values fine dining these days. I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”
“Well, as the product of a middle-class home, I’ve happily indulged in my fair share of pizzas and hamburgers, but I can also embrace the better things, as well, and I’m always eager to expand my horizons.”
Benton decided he was probably smiling way too much for an in-control guy, but at the moment he didn’t feel nearly as in control as usual. With each passing second, he became more taken with her, and on impulse, reached across the table to touch her hand, smooth and delicate beneath his. “May I tell you something?”
“Sure.” She peered at him over the candle burning between them, her gaze like two finely-cut emeralds.
“You have the most brilliant eyes.” Even as the words left him, he couldn’t believe he’d uttered them. He’d dated dozens of women before, but he’d never felt compelled to say such a thing. Yet just watching her heated him up from the inside and left him feeling ridiculously romantic.
“Why…thank you.”
Loving the crimson blush that stained her cheeks, he let out a small laugh—at himself, at the unlikely situation he found himself in. They were both clearly a little nervous with how fast things were moving, with the instant magnetism tugging at them, and yet it was so obviously mutual that the embarrassment almost didn’t matter. “That wasn’t actually what I wanted to tell you,” he admitted. “It just came out.”
Her gaze stayed locked on him. “What else did you want to tell me?”
He sighed. This was the sort of thing you should probably say at the end of a date, when you asked a woman to see you again, but he wanted to say it now. “The truth is, when I first came to your door and discovered you were Mindy’s sister, I didn’t hold out much hope for the evening. You see, your sister and I haven’t really hit it off.”
She nodded knowingly. “She mentioned.”
“But you’re right—you’re nothing like her. And I’m having a wonderful time. I hope you are, too.”
Her smile lit him up inside. “Yes, Benton, I am.” Then she even squeezed his fingers, which had curved around hers, and the sensation shot straight to his groin.
Mindy couldn’t stop gazing into Benton Maxwell’s blue eyes, nearly the color of midnight in the dimly illuminated room. His large hand on hers was making her feeling skittery inside.
But wait a minute! What am I thinking?
Well, she was thinking about being his dream woman, of course, answering every question just as he’d want her to, casting worshipful smiles across the table. And it was all an act. Wasn’t it?
Yes, yes, of course it was an act…but when he’d said her eyes were brilliant, she’d let herself feel it. Way down deep. She’d even blushed, for heaven’s sake.
To her surprise, she’d found him much less abrasive than before, and if she didn’t have good reason to think differently, she’d suspect he was sincerely interested in getting to know her, learning about her, listening to her. In fact, now that she thought about it, he didn’t even seem rushed anymore. Everything was slow, dreamily pleasant, and made her feel sort of heady. She couldn’t help beginning to wonder if maybe, just maybe, she might have judged him too harshly.
But even if she had, she still had to put a quick stop to this business of feeling it; she had to squelch the giddy, romantic sensations swimming through her veins. She still had to go through with her plan, the big switch that would take place at some point, the part where she changed gears and did something to turn him off. She had no choice—not just because it was part of the plan, but because she was masquerading as someone she wasn’t. Someone who didn’t even exist. Liking him was not an option.
Of course, hearing how happy he was to discover she was nothing like Mindy helped inspire her, harkening back to her previous impressions of Benton. Just keep thinking about that, she instructed herself as he ordered their dinner. Just keep remembering that he doesn’t like the real you, she told herself as the waiter poured their wine.
“To special evenings,” Benton said a moment later, lifting his glass. She followed suit. “And to you, Mandy, for making this one of them.”
Mindy bit her lip, swallowed a sip of the fruity wine, and almost forgot—that quickly—whatever crazy things she’d just been telling herself. He was suddenly just too…perfect. And he continued to be no less than charming as the meal progressed.
He asked more about her job, which forced her to spin numerous additional lies, yet at least served to remind her that nothing taking place here was real. And he asked about her family, so she mentioned her parents’ divorce a few years ago, explaining that she kept in close contact with both of them, even though her father, an ex-army lieutenant, lived in Arizona now. She’d thought perhaps a divorce in the family would be the thing to turn up Benton’s nose, but he’d actually appeared much more sympathetic than judgmental. Of course, she was suddenly no longer an only child, but a twin, and she tried to keep conversation on that topic to a minimum.
He talked about his job, his company, as well—yet not too much, and he told “Mandy” far more about his family than he’d consented to tell Mindy during their initial meeting. What he’d broadly painted to Mindy as a cold, success-driven family suddenly sounded warm and inviting. He talked about how much he looked forward to the holidays since it meant seeing his brother, sister, and parents, along with his four nieces and nephews. “We usually try to plan a beach trip in the summer at my parents’ place in Boca, too, but that’s always trickier, trying to match up all of our schedules.”
“Now that your parents live in Florida, where are the Christmas gatherings held?”
“Here, where we all grew up,” he told her. “At my house. Which I enjoy, because it’s the only time all the extra bedrooms and bathrooms get used. The rest of the year, the place stays empty. Except for me, that is.”
Mindy’s heart contracted a little, thinking he sounded sad about that. No wonder he wanted a wife. Despite his list, maybe his desire to marry wasn’t so cold and calculated. “Why,” she began tentatively, “do you have such a large house? Were you planning for the family gatherings or…”
“When I bought it five years ago, it mainly seemed like a good investment. But now that I’ve lived there alone all this time, I guess I’m hoping to…eventually fill it. With a family.”
Mindy didn’t answer, just dropped her gaze to her lobster. This was bad, really bad. He liked her, a lot. She could tell already—he thought she was the one, the wife, the prize, the trophy. Which, of course, was exactly what she’d wanted him to think by this point in the date; she just hadn’t expected to feel so utterly lousy about it. Because she hadn’t expected him to turn so darn nice!
When they left the restaurant an hour later, Benton said, “I thought we might take a stroll since the weather’s so pleasant.”
He was right—a light breeze had cooled the May night. Darkness had fallen and streetlamps turned the city dusky and romantic. And the wine, she supposed, was keeping her just a little off-balance, making her follow her whims more than her plans. She’d find a way to ruin the evening eventually—just not yet.
“Or maybe you’d enjoy a carriage ride instead?” he ask
ed.
A horse-drawn carriage ride. The ones that left from Fountain Square and clopped their way leisurely through the city. For years, every time Mindy had seen some couple curled up in one of those carriages, she’d dreamed of being with the sort of man who would want to share something so romantic. And, of course, she had eventually decided that no such man existed, not for her. Now she clutched Benton’s arm a little tighter, bit her lip with the small sexual thrill that came from pressing the side of her breast against him in the process, and smiled up into his eyes.
But you have to stop this. Now, this very minute, before things progress any further. It was time for a major about face, time to totally change his mind about her, time to become…the anti-Mandy.
Just then, a heavy disco beat echoed out onto the street from somewhere nearby and supplied Mindy with a solution. As they continued walking, nearing the music, she glanced through a window to see countless bodies gyrating behind the glass to an old Blondie song.
“Or…we could hit the dance floor!” she said.
“Huh?”
She avoided looking into his eyes—instead grabbing his wrist and dragging him toward the open door from which the music spilled.
“Mandy, what are you doing?”
She pulled him along behind her until they were immersed in the loud, sweaty, crowded room, the beat pounding so intensely that she could barely hear herself think. She stopped at the bar and yelled, “Screwdriver!” to the bartender.
“Mandy!” Benton bellowed, trying to be heard above the din. “Why are we here?”
“Just…had the urge,” she screamed back.
“The urge to what?”
As her drink appeared, Benton hurriedly fumbled for a credit card, but she pulled a ten from her pocket and slapped it on the bar. “I got this one,” she told him, then picked up the small glass and drained it. She needed a little more liquid courage to go through with this next part of her plan—something that had originally been a loose, wait-and-see-how-you-can-incorporate-this-into-the-evening thing, but now she knew exactly what she had to do to show Benton the dark side of Mandy, the side he’d never want to marry.
