by Toni Blake
“Okay, whatever you say.” He gave her a humoring wink, then pushed to his feet, leaving her no time to dispute him as he headed to the kitchen. “I’d better stick this ice cream in the freezer before it melts. Now,” he called, “I have something to ask you.”
Mindy went quiet as a mouse in the other room, and Benton smiled to himself. Despite what he’d said in the matchmaking shop, he certainly wasn’t really ready to marry Mindy. God knew they had some things to work out—like what her name was, for instance. But under the circumstances, he thought it completely fair to pretend he did, and to enjoy watching her sweat through it. A little more torture was the least she deserved for her ongoing lies, and teasing her about the sex shop had only been an appetizer for the main course to come.
When she still hadn’t responded when he returned to the couch, he dropped down next to her, threw an arm around her shoulder, and pulled her close.
She turned toward him, bringing them practically nose to nose, looking worried. “I’m probably contagious, you know.”
He grinned. “I have an excellent immune system.”
“Aren’t I lucky?”
“Now, onto my question.”
The muscles in her throat contracted. “Y-yes?”
He hesitated long enough to drive up her blood pressure a bit, then said, “Which movie would you like to watch first?”
As her eyes bolted open even wider, he held in a chuckle. “Which movie? Which movie?” Breaking free from his hold, she scrambled through the videos on the table, then struggled—quite obviously—to speak in a slightly calmer voice. “When Harry Met Sally. Because I could really use a laugh right now.”
They watched When Harry Met Sally and Casablanca, deciding to save Benton’s other choices for another evening, since it was well after midnight by the time Bogie told Ingrid they’d always have Paris. Benton had reclined on the couch at some point long ago, propping his head on throw pillows, and Mindy had leaned back against him, nestling against his chest, still wrapped in her big pink robe. He’d never enjoyed watching movies more than he had tonight.
Of course, there were moments when he wanted to just pluck that blond wig off her pretty head and tell her he knew everything and that it was all right and that he loved her.
Because he did.
He’d fallen in love with Mindy McCrae, the absolute opposite of everything he’d ever thought he wanted in a woman.
There was no denying it, and no fighting it, either.
It occurred to him as they lay silently afterward that it was no wonder he’d never found a woman he could love before; he’d been looking in all the wrong places, at all the wrong females. No wonder he couldn’t care romantically for Miss Binks. It had taken Mindy and all her conniving to show him he hadn’t a clue what attributes he truly desired in a companion. He only knew he’d found it all in her.
So of course he wanted to do away with the pretending, wanted to talk it through, work out their differences, admit how he felt about her in spite of it all. He wanted to get on with things, take this relationship forward, built on it in a real and lasting way.
But as he peered down on the little blond head tucked beneath his chin, seeing that wig of hers galled him just enough to keep him from coming clean. No, she’d have to confess—and he intended to continue threatening her with his impending fake marriage proposal until she did. Making her admit the truth was the least he could ask of her. After that and only after that, they’d move ahead.
Just then, she peered up at him. “This has been really nice. Thanks for coming over.”
He held in the compassionate smile that wanted to leak free, vowing again that she wouldn’t get the best of him just by being adorable. “You seem to be feeling a lot better.”
“I’m sure it’s because you’re here.” She lowered her eyes, let out a sigh, then lifted them again. “Can I tell you something?”
“Anything,” he said, thinking, wondering, hoping… Maybe this is it, maybe she’s going to tell me who she really is now.
“Sometimes I…don’t feel like I’m living up to the list of attributes you gave Mindy. I feel as if…well, as if I was a bit of a fake with you at first. I find myself questioning…why you even like me,” she went on, sounding sad, “considering how different I must seem now than when we first met.”
Benton shifted the woman in his arms so that she lay beside him, still wrapped in his embrace. One bare, shapely leg snuck free from the terrycloth robe to loop affectionately over his. “Maybe,” he whispered, leaning to drop a small kiss to her forehead, “you’ve helped me see that my list of attributes didn’t really matter all that much.”
As she gazed up at him, he watched her closely. Tell me, he willed her. Tell me you’re Mindy. Tell me the truth. Take all these silly pretenses away.
Instead, though, she just pulled him down into a long, warm kiss—which he figured was the next best thing. Her tongue wove a path of desire around his that buried him, made him forget the truth even mattered, and gave rise to his wanting her, both of her, all of her.
He hadn’t come here with any intention of making love to her tonight—she’d supposedly been sick, after all—but now his hands roamed beneath her robe, moving up to mold to her breasts over her T-shirt. His glanced dropped as the terrycloth parted beneath his touch. “Eeyore,” he observed with a small smile.
She grinned up at him. “Are you a fan?”
He glanced back at the shirt, her breasts, his hands covering them. “I am now.”
Twenty minutes later, they lay on the couch after a tender—even if brief—intimate encounter. Mindy’s robe lay on the carpet and he’d last seen her flowered panties disappear between two couch cushions, but her T-shirt remained. She lay snuggled against his bare chest—she’d undressed him, too. And considering that he’d just made love to a woman who thought she was keeping a huge secret from him, he’d never felt more whole, more relaxed, or happier in the afterglow of sex.
As she twirled one finger through the hair on his chest, he reached up to grab her hand. Their eyes met and he spoke in a low, gentle tone. “I have something to ask you.”
Her mouth dropped open, her eyes filling with distress, and she looked nearly as sick as she’d claimed to be earlier. “Wh-what’s that?”
Will you marry me, Mandy? The words sat on the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t say them. Instead, he shifted his gaze to a framed picture on a table at the far end of the sofa—Mindy with three other young women, smiling as they gathered around a birthday cake. “Who’s in the picture?”
Relief softened her expression as she looked. “Oh, that’s me—me…me sister and some of her friends on her twenty-fifth birthday.”
A small smile found its way to his mouth. “Me sister?”
Mindy reached up to cover one eye with her palm. “Yes, me sister. Arrrggggh—I’m a pirate.” Then she giggled playfully, hopefully, and it left him too amused and content to persecute her for the screw-up at the moment. He still planned to do what he’d threatened—he still planned to ask Mandy to marry him and make Mindy deal with it.
But he wouldn’t make her deal with it tonight.
Miss Binks stuck her head through Benton’s door, looking nervous. Unfortunately, she’d been wearing that expression a great deal lately, every time he’d suspected she was about to admit her romantic feelings for him. At each instance, he’d managed to stop her, either by changing the subject or pretending he had an urgent phone call to make, then snapping up the receiver. Once he’d actually rushed from the room, claiming he had to go to the restroom, urgently. Why wouldn’t she just get the message?
He could only assume the poor woman’s love for him had blinded her to the obvious—that he just didn’t wish to hear the “something” she had to tell him. Although it almost made him sympathize with the look Mindy got in her eye each time she’d thought he was going to propose to her. Waiting to have an unwelcome profession of devotion sprung on you was excruciating. Still, Mindy w
asn’t nearly as faultless as Benton was in this situation with Miss Binks, so he didn’t sympathize too much.
“Mr. Maxwell, I’m sorry to interrupt you, but I know your schedule is free this afternoon, and I really must have a few minutes of your time.”
He’d have felt like a horrible boss for repeatedly putting her off if he didn’t know exactly what she wanted to say, if it hadn’t been so evident from the adoring look in her eyes. But he had devised a new way to handle this, something that should bring the problem to an end once and for all. “Come in, Miss Binks. Sit down.” He motioned to one of the leather chairs across from his desk.
She settled there, smoothing her skirt, pursing her lips, looking wholly unsettled. It made him uncomfortable. “Mr. Maxwell, I have—”
“Miss Binks—” he spoke loudly, drowning her out “—there’s something I want to share with you.” Benton had decided he had something to tell her, too. His announcement would surely hurt her, but she needed to know—and he delivered the news as gently as possible. “I’ve recently met someone. A woman.”
Her gasp was so slight as to be almost inaudible, so he pretended he hadn’t noticed and went on.
“The relationship is getting serious rather quickly, and I felt it might be wise to tell you.” He met her gaze to find she’d gone as pale as a ghost in a designer suit. “It may affect my work schedule, may mean I’ll be spending a little less time at the office, delegating more responsibility your way.”
She nodded slightly and rose hurriedly to her feet, apparently ready to end the conversation. “Thank you. For telling me.” She made her way to the door, yet stopped there, as if something had just dawned on her. “I suppose this might explain your uncharacteristic tardiness lately.”
Speaking of uncharacteristic, her words had sounded almost scolding. But he decided to let it go—he’d just broken her heart, after all. “Yes,” he said simply.
“I see.” She swallowed visibly, then managed a thin smile. “I wish you well with your new relationship.” She disappeared before he could reply.
Watching the space in the doorway where she’d just been, he let out a sigh. He had wounded her, and he felt badly about it. She’d always been so loyal to him in every way. And such a good gift-buyer. But better to hurt her like this than to let her admit her ardor for him and then crush her. At least he’d saved her the humiliation and saved them both a great deal of awkwardness. And now this matter could be laid to rest.
Which carried his mind to another, more pleasant subject. He dialed Mandy’s cell phone—which was, of course, Mindy’s cell phone—and listened to her cheerful, “Hello.”
“Hi there.” He used his most seductive tone.
Affection spilled from her voice as she said, “Hi, B.” She’d taken to calling him that after the other night at her place, each time they’d talked since. Silly as it seemed, being on a first initial basis made him feel even more attached to her.
“Did you decide what you want to do tomorrow?” It was Saturday and he’d told her to pick an activity, anything she wanted. After all, he generally equated a date with dining at a nice restaurant, but Mindy had begun showing him there were other ways to have fun. He’d decided to start being a little less rigid about his idea of a good time and this seemed a fine way to start. He also thought it might make her truly understand that his list of attributes no longer mattered. Once that clicked, once she really believed it, there’d be no reason to keep pretending.
“I thought we might go see the Reds play.”
Hmm, a baseball game. His dad had taken him to a few Reds games when he was a kid, but it wasn’t usual Maxwell fare. Even now, when he came by free tickets from a client, he gave them to one of his employees.
Apparently, his lack of a fast response worried Mindy. “I know it’s out of the ordinary for us, but…my sister suggested it. She likes that sort of thing and said it would be fun.”
Her continued pretense made him smile. “Mindy suggested it, did she? Well, then sure, we’ll go.”
No, baseball wasn’t his usual fare, but he quickly decided that under the circumstances, it could be fun. Reaching up to stroke his chin with devilish intent, he cast a private—and very wicked—grin.
It had been Jane’s idea. Together, she and Mindy had decided Benton’s next date with Mandy must happen someplace public, someplace loud, someplace where he couldn’t conceivably propose marriage. So as she and Benton found their seats, she was pleased to see a sizable crowd for the match-up between the Reds and the Dodgers.
She’d been a wreck the other night—well, in between being in heaven with him—just waiting for him to pop the dreaded question. But she knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t propose marriage in a crowded stadium. Despite her initial impressions of the man, he was a romantic at heart—he’d proven it over and over again—and doing it someplace unromantic just wasn’t his style.
In fact, that was probably what had kept him from asking her during her pseudo-illness; he’d probably envisioned wine and roses for such an event, not terrycloth and germs. Hopefully peanut shells and beer vendors wouldn’t meet his standards, either. She was convinced he was just waiting for the right time, so her first dating priority at the moment was not to give him one.
She’d bought the tickets herself, selecting seats directly behind the Reds’ dugout, where they’d have to stay alert. One more thing to distract him from his goal. “Keep an eye out for foul balls,” she warned as a Dodger stepped up to the plate.
“Why? Are they collectibles or something?”
Mindy tilted her blond head. Poor, dear Benton. He hadn’t been lying earlier today when he’d said he wasn’t into baseball. “No, honey,” she explained gently. “Because they’ll hit you in the head and kill you. So if you see one coming, duck.”
Benton nodded. “Duck. Got it.” He was clearly out of his element, yet being a trouper. He’d even bought them hotdogs and beer, and had insisted on purchasing a big red foam “We’re #1” finger when Mindy had slipped her hand into one at a souvenir booth, waving it around and giggling. The acquisition had made something scathingly clear. There was nothing she could do to drive him away at this point.
Normally, she’d have worn a pair of cut-off denim shorts on such an outing, but in keeping with Mandy’s usual wardrobe, she’d instead chosen a dressier short white skirt and a stylishly-fitted red tank top with some beadwork at the neckline. Benton sat next to her in khaki shorts and a burgundy polo shirt, looking as handsome as ever, and she couldn’t help thinking they probably made a striking couple.
During the first few innings, she found herself explaining some of the game’s finer points, but she tried not to sound too well-versed, throwing in a lot of “I think”s and Mandy-like giggles, claiming she knew all this because “sometimes Mindy makes me watch with her.” Not that it would be a crime for Mandy to like baseball—Mindy just didn’t feel it fit her alter-ego’s persona.
A part of Mindy wished she could just rip off her wig and be herself. She’d dropped her Mandy voice for the most part now, but she did try to add an occasional bit of Mandy-ality to her remarks, actions, expressions. Because the truth was, even as awkward and silly as the lies had become, and as much as she wanted to be her true self with him, a part of her really did enjoy being Mandy, just as Jane had accused—she’d just had a hard time completely admitting it to herself up until now.
Mandy was more acutely feminine, the kind of woman guys usually went for—heck, no wonder Benton was nuts about her. And Mandy really was more fun-loving, more carefree. In fact, without planning it, Mindy found herself on her feet, swaying her hips back and forth, waving her big foam finger boldly overhead when a rock song played between innings. Mindy, conversely, often cheered when a game got exciting, but she blended in with the crowd and would never just leap up and start dancing in a stadium. And being the girl who danced instead of the girl who just sat there, it turned out, was a lot more fun.
“Thanks for giving me
the finger,” she said to Benton when she sat back down, then laughed along with him at her unintentional double entendre. “Hey, could you split another hotdog with me?”
“Still hungry, huh? Sure.” He chuckled. “Never let it be said I don’t take my girlfriend to the finest establishments and order only the best food.”
In the next inning, the Reds earned two runs, tying the score, and Mindy sank into a baseball state of mind, thoroughly enjoying the game on the sunny, eighty degree day. She held her hotdog in one hand, waved her big foam finger with the other, and watched as the first baseman stepped up to bat.
That was when the faint distant buzz of a small airplane caught her attention and she glanced to the sky. She expected to see a banner ad for one of downtown bars or restaurants being dragged behind the aircraft, trying to lure customers after the game, but instead it was a skywriting plane, beginning to paint snowy trails of smoke across the blue expanse.
As the letters MA took shape high above her, Mindy’s heart began to beat a little faster. Oh God, please don’t be spelling Mandy. Please, please, please. But when the next letter to curl across the blue backdrop slowly became an R instead of an N, she relaxed and smiled lazily at Benton as the crack of a bat drew her attention back to the game.
The batter had knocked a grounder to left field and made it easily to second. Mindy waved her foam finger and yelled with the crowd as the announcer heralded the play and the words Great Hit! flashed on the Jumbotron. The Reds were poised to take the lead, so she shifted her gaze to home base where the next player in the batting order took a few practice swings.
Then Benton gave her a gentle nudge. She found him pointing up, so she followed his eyes upward to see the words MARRY ME, MANDY plastered across the cloudless blue sky.
Mindy went numb. She couldn’t breathe.
Unless there was really some woman named Mandy here with her boyfriend today, this meant Benton had just done it, proposed to her!
