Entice Me Box Set: The Truth About Shoes and Men\Cover Me\My Favorite Mistake (10 page)

Panic spiked until I realized that I had no idea what she was talking about. “I don’t think so.”

She shifted in her chair. “I anticipate a very busy week so I’ll have to ask you to postpone any lunch plans or appointments you might have.”

My dad’s possible visit came to mind. “Well, there’s one potential—” When Helena’s eyes clouded, I decided that the off chance of him coming wasn’t worth getting her upset about. “Never mind,” I said. “I’m available all week.” Twenty-four-seven. It wasn’t like anyone else was clamoring for my time.

“Good,” she said. “I looked over the memo you wrote about the cover ideas. Very nice. I didn’t realize you had such a flair for expressing yourself.”

She was accustomed to me transcribing
her
thoughts. “Thank you. I keep thinking I might do something with my journalism degree someday.”

Helena paled, and I realized how she might have misunderstood. “I mean, working for you has been a wonderful experience.”

Her mouth twitched. “But?”

But nothing…al though I recognized an opening when I saw one. “But…I’d like to try my hand at writing filler pieces.” I swallowed. “Occasionally” I shifted. “If that would be okay with you.”

I waited for her to say that she was only flattering me, that my writing wasn’t up to par to write for
her
magazine, and, in truth, I would’ve preferred that she say it than think it and not say it. But deep down I yearned for Helena to say that my writing
was
good enough, and that she’d be proud to have my byline in her magazine.

“I’ll keep your offer in mind, Kenzie,” she said finally. “In the meantime, let’s get through this week.”

I nodded.

When I got back to my office, a huge vase of white lilies sat on my desk. I smiled—Vanessa must have told my dad that missing my birthday necessitated something more special than the roses he sent every year. They
were
lovely. I pulled out the card and read the requisite Happy Belated Birthday! and allowed myself a single bittersweet pang of…loss? wistfulness? before removing the vase to the hall so I’d have room to turn around. When I sat back down at my desk, I pushed my hands into my hair and took a deep breath, thinking about all the news I had yet to absorb.

I had shared my writing aspirations with Helena, surprising myself. Surprise, I decided, was good for the soul.

I wasn’t sure what to make of this cover curse thing, only that I hoped it died down before Sam’s issue hit the stands. Since he hadn’t been keen on being on the cover in the first place, I’d hate to see him sucked into a vortex of unwanted publicity.

And Sam had called April. That smarted, I had to admit. Still, knowing that he was the kind of guy who would call April only reinforced my opinion that I was mistaken in my favorable estimation of the man. A half hour later when I found myself still thinking about him, I realized if I was going to get through this busy week, I would have to purge Dr. Sam Long from my mind.

I succeeded, for the most part. As Helena promised, I had plenty of work to keep me occupied, and then some. In fact, I had the faint impression that Helena was intentionally burying me in work, which did not give me warm fuzzies for having asserted my opinions. Maybe it was just in my mind, but it seemed that some invisible wall had sprung up between us—Helena withdrew into her office
and we communicated by cryptic phone and e-mail messages, and through passed file folders. I tried to blame her mood on hot flashes, but I confess that I took it personally and I could feel myself pulling back as well. Monday and Tuesday passed in a paperwork haze.

Wednesday, however, brought a couple of developments in my life. One I’d anticipated, but the other was a bona fide
gotcha
.

Dad’s secretary called to say he couldn’t make it up to see me that week, but would try to catch up with me the following week. Nothing new there.

And Daniel Cruz called and asked me to go to the movies with him. Saturday. Eight o’clock. A romantic comedy. He’d pick me up. I was stunned. I said yes.

By the time Friday afternoon rolled around, I was sure the long hours over my desk would result in a humped back, but I wasn’t too worried because I was starting to think I might actually be settled down with a nice guy before the hump became too unsightly.

And, I was happy to say, Dr. Sam Long was receding in my thoughts.

Okay, only a little. But it was a start.

At five minutes until five o’clock, my phone rang. It was Helena.

“Kenzie, could you come to my office, please?”

At the somber tone of her voice, I knew something was up. I only hoped, as I walked to her office, that it wasn’t my employment contract. She probably had noticed the wall that had sprung up between us and wanted to replace me. Admittedly I
had
been operating all week in a fog, distracted by personal events and non-events. She probably thought I was so taken with the idea of writing for the magazine that I’d lost focus on her objectives. Mentally rehearsing an apology, I knocked on Helena’s office door.

“Come in.”

I opened the door and walked in. Helena still had that pinched looked. “Close the door, Kenzie.”

I obliged, then wobbled to one of the chairs sitting in front of her desk and sat on the edge.

Helena steepled her hands in front of her and sighed. I was on the verge of throwing myself at her feet when she spoke.

“Kenzie, I have a special assignment, and I think you’re the best person for it.”

I blinked. “Okay” Then I remembered the “assignment” involving the pet salon. “Is this work-related?”

Helena seemed distracted. “Hmm? Oh, yes” She sighed again and worked her mouth from side to side. “Kenzie, what do you make of this cover curse business?”

“I…don’t believe in curses. The freak accidents are all just a coincidence.”

Helena nodded, then sighed again. “I just received word that Jane Suttles fell off a platform where she was staging an event and broke both arms.”

My hand flew to my throat. “That’s terrible.”

“For her and for us. The accident will only fuel the fire if word of this silly cover curse gets out. So you’ll understand why I’m asking you to do what I’m going to ask you to do.”

I waited.

“I’ve arranged for you to visit Dr. Long in Jar Hollow for a few days.”

My heart sputtered. “Excuse me?”

“The issue with his picture on the cover will hit the stands Sunday. For the week that he’ll be on the cover, I need someone to keep an eye on him.”

“Keep an eye on him?” I squeaked.

She nodded. “Part baby-sitter, part bodyguard. You’re perfect for the job.”

“I’m perfect for the job?” My vocabulary had vanished. I could only repeat what was being said to me.

“Absolutely. Dr. Long knows you and seems to enjoy your company. I’ve taken the liberty of calling him. I told him you were coming to write an article on the life of a small-town veterinarian.”

“Write an article?”

“You said you wanted to try your hand at writing.”

“Try my hand at writing.”

Helena spread her hands. “Here’s your chance. While you’re there, all you have to do is keep Dr. Long out of trouble.”

“Out of trouble?”

“Keep him so busy playing host and taking you on house calls or barn calls or whatever he does that he doesn’t have time to run around putting out fires and being in danger.”

“Helena, I can’t stop the man from responding to a fire!”

“Well if you can’t distract him, at least you’ll be able to let me know if something happens before anyone else finds out. Then we can organize damage control if we have to.”

“How will I get there?”

“You do drive, don’t you?”

“In the loosest sense of the word.”

She dismissed my concern with a wave. “You’ll be fine.”

“Where will I stay?”

“Dr. Long has guest quarters.”

“At his home?” I was weak—or giddy, I couldn’t be sure. “When would I leave?”

“Tomorrow morning. You should arrange for a rental car to be delivered to your flat.”

“H-how long would I stay?”

“Until next Sunday, when the new issue will hit the stands.” She shoved a folder into my hands. “I’ve made some notes to help you with the article. Stay in touch.”

My head felt as if it might explode. I was supposed to show up on Sam’s doorstep and play house with the man for a week? I had to sit down. When I realized I was already sitting down, I considered sprawling on the floor.

“Oh, and Kenzie—there is one other thing.”

I swallowed, thinking there was nothing she could say to make things worse.

“I’ve been thinking about Dr. Long’s recommendation to have Angel spayed, and I decided he’s right. He’ll be expecting her.”

“Expecting her?” I was back to repeating.

Helena cleared her throat. “Dr. Long agreed to spay Angel this week.”

Dread settled in my stomach. “And how exactly is Angel supposed to
get
to Dr. Long’s?”

My boss angled her head and gave me a magnanimous smile. I realized that things could indeed be worse.

8

“C
ALL ME
when you get there,” Helena said. She threw Angel a kiss, and waved until we disappeared from sight in the silver Volvo I’d rented (a safe car, I’d justified). Right away, Angel, who sported a floppy lavender bow between her ears and sat on a pink blanket in the passenger seat, began to whine.

“I know how you feel,” I said, nursing nausea over the thought of seeing Sam again, and under such convoluted circumstances.

Angel gave me a doubting look.

“Okay, so I’m not going to have to get
fixed
when I get there,” I conceded, “but trust me—it’s for your own good. When you leave, you’ll be cured of the male element altogether, while I…” I swallowed hard. “Won’t be.”

Angel wasn’t buying it. She must have sensed my perverted feeling of relief that having her doomed little uterus along lent more credibility to my trip. It wasn’t as if Sam had
invited
me to travel upstate and observe him offering up cures for spoon-swallowing pigs for this article I was writing. Despite that Helena had contacted him to set up this excursion before she even told me about it, I was paranoid that he’d think it was my idea in a desperate attempt to get close to him.

Granted, during the three-minute conversation I’d had with him last night, he hadn’t sounded suspicious or perturbed about having me and Angel as houseguests for the
next week, but I chalked up his cheerfulness to country-manners. Besides directions, the only extra conversation he’d offered was, “Bring a pair of boots.” I wasn’t completely clear why, but I’d dutifully packed my red calfskin Stuart Weitzman boots along with enough antihistamine to spike pharmaceutical stock prices. At the last minute, I added the homemade dildo. Since Sam had agreed to cast the mold when he thought he’d never see me again, I thought it only fitting to return it.

That wasn’t a conversation I wanted to think about.

For the drive I had opted for a pair of black Seven corduroy slacks, a pale yellow Juicy Couture sweater, and a pair of teal, mid-heel Miss Sixty slides. I’d dressed down because, assuming that life in Jar Hollow was a bit more casual than Manhattan, I didn’t want to stand out from the locals.

I tried to force aside my concerns about my destination and concentrate on the matter at hand: driving. I could count on one hand the times I’d sat behind a steering wheel, and the instrument panels of cars had changed quite a bit in the fifteen years since I’d passed my driving exam in the coned-off parking lot of the DMV.

After much trial and error, I found a pop rock station on the radio, then turned the shiny Volvo in a northwesterly direction and settled in for the four-hour drive.

One hour in, the skyline had disappeared behind me, I was tired of pop rock, and we had encountered a particularly curvy two-lane road. Angel’s head began to bounce like a bobble-head doll, then she started projectile vomiting.
Carsickness
, I deduced rather quickly.

By the time I’d guided the car onto the shoulder of the road, I was gagging, and would have upchucked myself if I’d had breakfast. I stuffed bits of paper napkin up my nose to ward off the stench, then tackled the mess with
more napkins and a bottle of pricey spring water. By the time I got Angel and her surroundings cleaned up, I was seriously considering turning around and hightailing it back to NYC.

My cell phone rang. I dug it out of the depths of my shoulder bag, praying it was Helena calling the whole thing off. “Hello?”

“How’s it going?” Jacki asked.

I laid my head back. “Badly. Both the dog and I are carsick. I think it’s a sign.”

“It doesn’t take much to get you sick,” Jacki pointed out. “Besides, you’re on your way to see a doctor, right? He’ll make you all better when you get there.”

“Since I’m not imposing enough as it is.”

“Hey, this wasn’t your idea.”

I chewed on my tongue, then voiced the concern that had been niggling at the back of my mind from the get-go. “I could have said no.”

“Yes.”

“Well.”

“Well, what?”

“Well, what do you suppose that means?” I demanded.

“Hmm, let’s see—you didn’t say no to spending a week in the country with a gorgeous doctor who has a yonker the size of a summer sausage? I believe that means you’re not insane.”

“You know I can’t
do
anything with him while I’m there,” I hissed. “I’m going on business, and the man has a heart problem. I’m supposed to look out for him, not incite a coronary.” (In a desperate moment, I had divulged the cover curse rumor to Jacki, with the promise of a slow death if she told anyone.)

“He seemed to have survived your first night together.”

I thought about April’s assertion that the good doctor
wouldn’t last long in her company, and realized that my being the least likely person to mix business with pleasure was probably one of the reasons I got this assignment. “I’m not going to press my luck.”

“Come on—do you really believe you can live under the same roof with the man for a week and not give in to temptation?”