Entice Me Box Set: The Truth About Shoes and Men\Cover Me\My Favorite Mistake (24 page)

Sam withdrew his hand slowly. “The
National Keyhole—
isn’t that a supermarket tabloid?”

The man lifted both hands. “Look, I know you said not to call anymore, but I was hoping you’d talk to me in person.”

Sam frowned. “You called here?”

Mayo nodded. “Yeah, I left a couple of messages on Sunday, then I spoke to your secretary.”

Sam’s frown deepened. “I don’t have a secretary.”

The guy shrugged. “I spoke to a young lady whom I assumed was your secretary.”

They both looked at me, and my face flamed.

Sam straightened. “Kenzie, do you know something about this?”

“Kenzie Mansfield?” Mayo asked. “From
Personality
magazine?”

I nodded, reluctantly.

Sam looked back and forth between us. “Kenzie, what’s this all about?”

I closed my eyes briefly to regroup, but no good explanation came to mind.

Mayo emitted a dry laugh. “
Personality
magazine is under
a cover curse, Dr. Long, and you’re right in the middle of it.”

Sam looked completely bewildered.

“Let me explain,” I said, my voice sounding stronger than I felt.

He crossed his arms, waiting.

I took a deep breath. “A rumor started that people who had appeared on the cover of our magazine were the victims of freak accidents.”

“The accidents actually happened,” Mayo cut in, then pulled out a notebook and flipped it open. “Mia Compton, Keith Kellor, Tara Duncan and Jane Suttles appeared on the last four issues, and all of them were injured while their issue was on the stands.”

“The injuries were minor,” I argued. “And the timing was simply a coincidence.”

Sam angled his head at me. “So you knew about this curse?”

“I was aware of the rumor.”

“So I talked to you when I called?” Mayo asked.

I nodded.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this nonsense?” Sam asked.

I rubbed my mouth with my index finger, trying to signal Sam to be quiet lest he unwittingly give the reporter a story. “Urn, maybe you and I should discuss this privately, Dr. Long.”

Mayo laughed. “Oh, this is good—the magazine didn’t tell you about the curse?”

“He wouldn’t have believed it,” I cut in. “And by the way, neither do I.”

“Really?” Mayo asked. “Then you’re not here to keep an eye on Dr. Long?”

I swallowed hard. “No,” I squeaked, then cleared my
throat. “I’m here on assignment to do an article on Dr. Long’s veterinary practice.”

“Right,” Mayo said dryly.

“Wait a minute,” Sam said, touching my arm. “Kenzie,
were
you sent here to monitor me and report back to your boss?”

I felt like a heel. No, I was something disgusting stuck to the bottom of the heel. “Sam, we really should discuss this privately.”

His eyes clouded, and he stepped in to face me and block out Mayo. “All this time I thought you were here because you wanted to be,” he said in a low voice. “And instead you were here monitoring my behavior and my calls?”

What could I say? I had done those things. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “It’s…complicated.”

“So, Dr. Long,” Mayo said, “have you had any accidents this week? It’ll be a boon to
Personality
magazine if you keep the curse going.”

Sam turned around. “Excuse me?”

The reporter looked down at his notebook. “I understand you had a fire here earlier this week.”

Sam’s jaw went rigid. “That’s right.”

“Were you injured?”

“No. It was a minor incident.”

“Oh.” Mayo scribbled. “Any other near-misses since your issue hit the stands Sunday?”

I looked at Sam and I knew he was mentally cataloguing all of my escapades and how he’d had to save my narrow behind more than once. “No,” he said carefully, “nothing unusual happened.” Then he laughed and gave Mayo a light punch on the shoulder. “Good thing, too, because if it had, I might be tempted to think that Ms. Mansfield had
staged
an accident.”

The men shared a good laugh while I shriveled inside. Sam looked at me with one eyebrow raised, then narrowed his eyes slightly for my benefit.

I shook my head and mouthed ‘no,’ but why would he believe me at this point? I was so mortified, I just wanted to get out of there. I picked up my bags and headed toward my car. “Come on, Angel, let’s go home.”

“Ms. Mansfield, how about a quote?”

“You couldn’t print it,” I muttered. When I reached the car, I unlocked the trunk and tossed in the suitcases, then slammed down the lid.

I looked up to see Sam striding toward me, his expression dark. I walked around to the passenger-side door and situated Angel in the seat.

He stopped next to me. “So this was all just a big scam?”

I looked up, but I had to look away again. “No, it wasn’t.” I walked around the front of the car, opened the driver’s-side door and slid onto the warm leather seat.

He followed me. “I don’t believe you.”

My heart squeezed. “I don’t expect you to. Goodbye, Sam.”

His mouth tightened—he didn’t speak. I closed the door and started the engine, blinking back tears. I was not going to let him see me cry. He knocked on my window, but I refused to look. He was not going to see me cry. I put the car into reverse and sniffed. He was not going to see me cry. I looked over my right shoulder, blinking until I could make out the rear windshield. I hit the gas pedal and we lurched backward.

And over something…solid.

I heard a muffled cry, then jerked around to see Sam bent over, holding his foot.

I’d backed over his foot.

I slammed the car into Park and jumped out. Mayo and I got there at the same time.

“Sam, are you okay?” I asked, gasping for breath. My tire had left a perfect tread print across the soft black calfskin of his Ferragamo boots.

He winced and sucked air through his teeth. “My foot— I think something’s broken.”

I felt faint. Terrence Mayo whipped out a camera and started snapping away.

21

I
T WAS
after midnight when the doorman in Helena’s building announced me. She buzzed me up and answered the door wearing a marabou-trimmed leopard-print peignoir with matching headband and shoes. She held a drink in her hand and wore no makeup, which startled me for a moment because I’d never seen her other than perfectly coiffed.

“There’s my Angel,” she said, scooping up her pet. She winced at the dog’s haircut, then murmured, “That’s all right, we’re going to get you a new maternity wardrobe and dress you pretty until it all grows back out.” She looked at me and tilted her head. “Kenzie, did you get your hair cut?” Then she scanned my rumpled orange Dickies overalls. “What on earth are you wearing?”

I was bleary eyed and miserable, sleepy and achy, and still itching over my earlier encounter with Sam. I just wanted to go home. I set Angel’s suitcase on the floor inside the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Helena.” I would wait to tender my resignation when I was more clearheaded.

“Wait, Kenzie, please come in.” Helena dipped her chin. “Please.”

I relented and walked in, glancing around her posh condo. Upscale minimalism—collectible furniture, original artwork and orchids. I followed her to a white suede
loveseat flanked by two cocoa-colored armless upholstered chairs.

“Please sit,” she said, and I chose one of the chairs. “May I offer you something to drink?”

I shook my head, which helped to wake me up.

She arranged herself and Angel on the loveseat and pulled out a cigarette. “Will this bother you?”

“No.” I’d never seen Helena smoke, but I wasn’t surprised.

She lit the tip and inhaled shallowly, then blew off to the side. “I was glad to hear that Dr. Long is going to be fine.”

“Two broken toes isn’t exactly fine,” I said.

“He’s strong, he’ll recover.”

“I didn’t run over his foot on purpose, Helena. I want to be perfectly clear about that.”

She smiled. “I know you didn’t—you have too much integrity.”

I sat stone-still.

She puffed, then said, “Kenzie, I want to apologize for putting you on the spot earlier today. I guess those sales numbers made me heady with the possibilities, but that’s no excuse for asking you to compromise your principles.”

I was unmoved.

“Also, I suppose I thought you wouldn’t mind doing something shady since you were planning to leave the magazine.”

I squinted. “You knew I was planning to leave?” That seemed impossible, since I hadn’t told anyone.

“I suspected you were interviewing when you started going out to lunch. When you asked to leave early that day, my suspicions grew, and when you came in late the next morning, I knew my days of having an efficient assistant were numbered.”

I was trying not to gape. My social life had resumed, and she thought I’d been interviewing?

“And then I walked in on a phone conversation that you cut off.” She puffed again. “Plus I know I’m not the easiest person to work for.”

She teared up and I shifted on my chair. I’d never seen Helena get emotional about anything.

“But the truth is,” she said, her voice trembly, “I’ve begun to think of you as the daughter I never had, Kenzie.” She smiled through the tears. “You’re bright and talented and you have quite a future in journalism. I’m not going to ask which competitor has made you an offer—just tell me what I can do to keep you at
Personality
.”

I valued my personal integrity, but I recognized a celestial gift when it fell into my lap. On the drive home I’d thought about the article that would probably never see print (especially since I was planning to quit), but I’d fantasized about what angle I could use that would be meaningful to Sam—I owed him that much. And somewhere along the way, I had remembered our conversation about the animals in the pound and had come up with a decent idea.

“I want a staff writing position,” I announced. “And my own column. Pet Personality—we can feature celebrity pets and new products, plus encourage pet adoption.”

Helena drew on her cigarette thoughtfully, then smiled. “Like I said, Kenzie, you’re bright. I think it’s a wonderful idea and will be a great addition to the magazine.”

Happiness swelled in my chest, but I schooled my face into a stoic expression. “Plus I want a more flexible schedule—three days in the office, two days telecommuting.”

Helena hesitated, then nodded. “Our other writers have expressed an interest in telecommuting—I’m sure we can make that work.”

I stood and extended my hand. “Deal?”

Helena shook my hand, then stood and gave me a brief hug. “Why don’t you take tomorrow off and I’ll see you Monday?”

I nodded, relieved to know I could at least sleep in.

At the door, Helena said, “Kenzie, there’s one more thing.”

I chastised myself for believing that things had worked out and waited for the bomb to drop.

“I know you don’t believe in Madame Blackworth’s visions, but she said something I thought you should know.”

“What?” I asked warily.

“She…” Helena took a deeper drag on the cigarette. “After she spoke with you on the phone, she said she began to get visions about you.”

I waited.

Helena shifted. “She said your mother was looking out for you, and that a great love was in your future.”

I blinked back unexpected emotion, then conjured up a smile. “Thanks, Helena. I’m not sure I believe her, but those are both wonderful thoughts. Goodnight.”

Adrenaline kept me awake on the drive to my apartment, but when I saw my own bed—empty and likely to remain that way—I collapsed into it and gave in to all the pent-up emotion of the week. I loved Sam and now I’d lost him.

22

B
Y THE TIME
Monday rolled around, my pillow was a sodden mess, but I had consoled myself that Sam finding out about the stupid curse hadn’t changed anything really. From the beginning, the feelings between us had been lopsided—after all, when he’d returned home from Manhattan, he’d called April, not me. He had fallen in
like
with me only after I’d gone to stay with him. And upon hindsight, his request for me to stay there probably had more to do with my computer skills than my emotional appeal.

Somehow I managed to fall back into my weekday morning schedule—grabbing a cup of coffee from Starbucks on the way to work, and arriving at the Woolworth Building early enough to snatch a doughnut from the break room.

On the way out of the break room, I ran into Daniel Cruz.

“Hello,” he said with a smile.

“Hi.”

“You’re back.”

I nodded.

“Your hair looks nice.”

“Thanks.”

“I saw the story about you and the veterinarian.”

I managed a flat smile and kept nodding. The cover curse had been picked up by the media and was now up for debate—the mystical camp believed that Sam being
hurt was destiny, the cynical camp was convinced I’d run over his foot on purpose to extend the curse.

“So, how about catching that movie this weekend?” he asked.

He was a perfectly nice, perfectly nice-looking man who was interested in spending time with me. It was a shame, because most women would find Daniel extremely appealing, and I didn’t. Ironically, the overused line was really true this time—it wasn’t him, it was me. It wouldn’t be fair to use Daniel as a distraction while Sam was still so fresh in my mind and so deep in my heart. I smiled. “I need a few days to catch up—can I have a rain check?”

“Sure,” he said, although the interest drained out of his eyes. “I’ll see you later.”

I trudged toward my office telling myself that I’d done the right thing for both of us. When I saw the stack of work on my desk, I almost buckled, but told myself that tackling work was the best way to keep my mind occupied. Helena called a staff meeting midmorning and announced my position change and my column idea. April shot daggers at me, but I couldn’t even work up enough sentiment to gloat—I had retreated into a sort of haze, moving and responding automatically until I could rebound emotionally from the previous week.

I arrived back at my office to the tune of my phone ringing—a single tone that signaled an external call. My pulse raced, thinking it probably wasn’t one of the girls since we’d spent most of the weekend together and I was sure they were thoroughly sick of my whining.