Reckless Promise (2 page)

"I know. But I promised. Besides, no one will
find out."

After a pause that had Poppy's pulse jumping,
Kate said, "Well, I promise you, whatever happens with your mess
out there, the mess here will not stick."

"Thank you. I'm glad you're a lawyer."

"You're glad I'm a shark," Kate said with a
laugh.

"I’m glad you’re
my
shark." Poppy hung
up, feeling much better.

What would she do without Jase and Kate? The
night she’d been fired, that awful night...

She’d walked in the apartment door, trembling
with shock.

"What happened?" Jase demanded.

"I got fired."

"But—but—why?"

"Professor Harding's wife said—she said that
I—that her husband—that we—Did. Had an affair. Slept together." She
shuddered. The idea violated every principle she possessed. Even if
Harding weren't a toad, she would never do such a thing.

"And they believed her?"

Poppy nodded. "Mrs. Harding threatened to
sue."

"And the dean caved." It wasn't a question.
Jase had met the dean.

"Like a pile of soft sand. The administration
decided the easiest thing was to let me go."

"Easiest for whom?"

Poppy shrugged.

The doorbell pealed. "Oh, darn. I forgot Tom
is coming to dinner. Can you...?"

She nodded, numb enough to agree to
anything.

But it was Kate, clutching her answer to any
event—or life trauma that couldn't be fixed in the courtroom. She
poured the brandy lavishly, and Poppy progressed from limp
acquiescence through tears and anger to silence.

"What is she thinking?" Kate whispered to
Jase.

"If you're going to talk about me behind my
back, don't do it in front of me," Poppy said. "I'm thinking about
what to do."

"You might want to wait on that," Jase told
her. "You're a little—uh—impaired right now."

"I'm fine," she snapped.

By the time Tom arrived, tall and handsome in
jeans and a western shirt, she'd figured it out. Bolstered by her
brandy haze, she barely waited for Jase to say, "Tom Bailey,
ladies. Jerry and I met him when we were in Wyoming," before she
made her announcement. "If they think I'm the other woman, I'm
going to be The Other Woman." She laughed at the expressions of
horror on Jase's and Kate's faces. Tom looked puzzled.

"Not a good idea," Kate said, her brow
furrowed. "You need to get your job back."

"You sound like a three year old," Jase
added. "Stamping your foot and swearing you'll show them all."

"Well, I will." Poppy ignored the part about
getting her job back. If they didn't want her, she wouldn't want
them. She kicked the nearest table leg and tried not to hear the
sulkiness in her voice. "I will show them. All." She hiccupped.

"But—married men?" Kate said.

"I can pretend. I'll pretend to be The Other
Woman." It sounded better this time. Adventurous.

"Other woman?" Tom asked.

Jase gave him a brief explanation, then
added, "I don't think so," to Poppy.

Poppy looked down her nose at him. Her eyes
crossed and she closed them. "It's going to be a service. A
much-needed service. Remember that guy at the grocery last
week?"

"The one who kept following you?"

"And pinching my grapefruit. Yes."

"What about him?" Tom asked.

"He was trying to make his girlfriend
jealous," Poppy said.

"And...?"

"It worked. She got so upset when she saw him
hitting on me—or my grapefruit—that she was wound around him like a
feather boa when they left."

Tom leaned forward, suddenly intent on the
conversation. "And your point is?"

"My point is that there's a market for a
non-threatening Other Woman. Someone who can help men who want to
save their relationships. A pretend Other Woman who doesn't require
relationship work. One who is, in fact, no real threat. Isn't that
a great idea?" Poppy looked from Kate to Jase and back to Kate,
glowing with pride at her cleverness.

"It's—" Jase and Kate said at the same
time.

"A wonderful idea," Tom said with enthusiasm.
"And I'm your first client."

* * *

So here she was, in Cowboy Land, Montana, all
alone with a hostile hostess and a reckless promise to keep. She
dialed—how old was this phone, anyway?—the apartment and hoped Jase
would be home.

He answered so promptly she was sure he'd
been waiting for her call. "So how's it going?"

"Your sister says she’ll get me
reinstated."

"I meant with Alice, dummy."

"I met her. She's no marshmallow. I'm
nervous."

"You ought to be. Give it up, babe. Come home
and audition for my new play. I know you can act. You couldn't pull
off this Other Woman business if you couldn't."

"For the zillionth time, no. I have no
interest in a career where I'm judged by my looks."

"Actors are judged on their acting."

"Sure they are. Anyway, I promised to do
this."

"And you always keep your promises. Blah,
blah, blah." After a long pause, he added, "Well, maybe you can use
this as a vacation. You haven't taken one since I met you. I’m not
sure you know how to vacation."

Vacation sounded good. "Tom did say I could
stay on after...after things get fixed. I could try."

"Good. And while you’re at it, try not to
make any more impulsive decisions. No more reckless promises."

"Like I made, might I remind you, to
your
friend." She put the phone down, reluctant to lose her
last contact with the familiar, high-energy, urban world but
intrigued with the idea of a vacation.

No impulsive decisions, but cowboys. Montana
meant nice, single, sexy cowboys, and it was past time for some
sizzle in her life. She could have one little fling before she went
home. After all, she was acting the part of an adventurous woman.
Someone who would fling without a second thought.

She fluffed her hair and ran her hands down
her body, arching her back and thrusting out her breasts. Fiery
awareness followed the trail of her fingers. If she reacted like
this to her own touch, just imagine what would happen if she were
naked and the hands touching her were big and hard and demanding
and male.

Her nipples peaked under the spandex.

She'd do it. She'd get sunburned in places
that had never seen the sun, and she'd have a fling with a real
cowboy. Why not? All those years of hard work and stubborn celibacy
had left her frustrated, yelled at, and fired. Time for a walk on
the wild side.

She practiced an undulating, I'm-available
saunter on her way into the bedroom to unpack and take a
shower.

First she had to make Alice jealous.

* * *

"A dumb suggestion." Mac MacLean shifted his
gaze from the display of championship rodeo buckles that graced the
shelf beside his desk to the man squirming in the visitor's chair.
At moments like this he really hated being a CEO. Fighting for
eight seconds of glory on a bucking horse was a lot more fun, but
the company was his baby. His baby, his problem.

He leaned forward and glared at the company
comptroller. "We will not eliminate security guard escort for
late-shift workers. Think about it, Fred. Middle of the night.
Deserted parking lot. Defenseless women. Do I have to spell it
out?"

When Fred didn't speak, Mac leaned farther
across the desk and narrowed his eyes. "Well?"

Fred jumped as if the word had been a cattle
prod. "I—I—I—but, Mr. MacLean, we could save—"

"I said
think
, Fred." Mac made an
effort to lower his voice. "This is a city. There are bad people
out there. Bad men who are bigger and stronger and meaner than
women." He paused. Maybe this wasn't the best approach. He'd seen
Fred's wife at the last company picnic. Well, too late now. He
plowed on. "We can't have any woman working at MacLean's Baby Foods
face unnecessary danger because we want to save money."

Fred nodded once. Couldn't seem to stop. His
head bobbed up and down like a broken toy.

Mac's head throbbed with frustrated
temper—and guilt. He had to stop before he scared the man to death,
but everyone in the company from Fred on down had to understand
that some things just weren't going to happen while Mac was in
charge. "Is that clear?" he finished, making his tone convey that
it damn well better be.

"Y-yes, sir." When Mac nodded dismissal, Fred
nearly ran from the office.

The door didn't quite close behind him, and
Fred's low-voiced question to Mac's secretary, Henderson, was
clear. "Is he always this overprotective?"

Whatever Henderson replied was lost in Mac's
growl. He wasn't overprotective. A man had a duty to take care of
those who were smaller and weaker. And that meant women. Even
Fred's wife.

Half an hour later, Henderson buzzed him.
"Mrs. Bailey on line one, sir."

Mac put down the report he'd been
red-penciling without really seeing the words and unclenched his
jaw, happy at the distraction. "Alice," he said with real pleasure,
and then held the phone away from his ear. Shouting women had never
been his thing, but this was his sister, so hanging up wasn't an
option.

"You have to come home," Alice said.

Oh, Lord, not one of his mares or foals. The
vein in his temple pounded again.

"Not the horses." Alice knew him well.
"It's—it's—just come home, will you please?"

First Fred and now this. He focused on the
painting of the ranch on the wall facing his desk. Mountains. Sky.
Peace. "Now, Alice—"

"I can't deal with—"

He tried again when she paused for breath.
"Now, Alice—"

"Mac, if you 'now, Alice' me once more, I
will come to Denver and strangle you with the phone cord."

He swallowed a smile before she could hear it
in his voice. The eight hundred miles separating them provided some
measure of safety. On the other hand... He tried again. "Calm down
and tell me what's wrong."

"There isn't anything to be calm about. It's
all these single women—" She broke off with a sob.

An unpleasant premonition riffled the hair at
his nape. Alice never acted like this. "There are always single
women at the ranch. They've never bothered you before."

She barged on as though he hadn't spoken.
"The one Tom brought back from the airport has 'other woman'
stamped all over her. She's a gorgeous redhead and—"

"Gorgeous redhead sounds good. Want me to
help?" The words popped out before Mac could stop them.

"Yes!"

"I'd love to come home but I don't have time.
Tom's got it down to a science. They flirt with him, he's polite,
they go home, no problem. Why can't he do it?"

"Oh, he's polite, all right," she said and he
could almost hear her teeth grind.

Mac's chest went tight. He'd introduced them
and welcomed Tom into the family. Trusted the man with his sister.
"Are you trying to tell me Tom is hitting on a guest?"

"N-No." She didn't sound sure enough to suit
him. Something wasn't right. He used the calm voice that usually
worked with upset employees. "What aren't you telling me?"

After a long pause, Alice said, "I'm
afraid..." She faltered and fell silent.

"Why?"

"We—we haven't—been getting along too well
lately," she said in a small voice.

Strange. Tom and Alice got along like two
peas in a pod. Never fought. Almost never fought. And Alice had
never turned to Mac on the rare occasions they did. Tom would never
mess with another woman, he'd take a bet on that.

"Sounds like you really do want me to come
home," he said reluctantly. His calendar was full. Overfull.

"Yes."

He pulled the phone away from his ear at her
shout. "Honey. Don't yell."

"Why not? Don't you think I have something to
yell about? I've had it with single women on vacation. Every one of
the lonely little darlings thinks Tom is part of the package."

"But Tom knows that's not true. I can't
believe he'd—" The choked noise on the other end of the line
stopped him dead. "Alice?" he said cautiously.

A sob shivered down the line.

"All right." He could finish the deal to sell
the damn company over the phone. "I'm coming. Don't do anything—"
He broke off, unsure what instruction he could give her that had
half a chance in Hades of being obeyed. 'Don't do anything stupid'?
Right. A jealous, hysterical woman would listen to that one. "Don't
do anything irrevocable. I'll catch a plane this afternoon and be
there for dinner."

* * *

In spite of her brave plans, Poppy spent the
rest of the afternoon, spinelessly pretending jet lag and gathering
up courage. Alice put a stop to that by banging on the door. The
chill of her brusque "I came to see if you'd like to join us for
happy hour," didn't promise a fun evening.

"Of course." About as much as she wanted to
take the MBTA home from her lab. Alone. At one in the morning.

She trudged behind her reluctant hostess up
the path to the main ranch house, trying to ignore the pine-scented
air and faraway sounds of children's laughter and water tumbling
over rocks. The view of horses and split-rail fences and rustic
wooden buildings didn't look as alien as it had a few hours
ago.

But there was still Alice, and Poppy really
didn't want to do this. "It'll be easy," Tom had assured her. "If
you make her jealous, she'll stop with her
nice-one-minute-deep-freeze-the-next routine." And when Poppy had
demurred, Tom had grabbed her arm and begged. "I've tried
everything. Candy. Flowers. I gave her the deep freeze back and
flirted with guests. She knew right away that was a fake, because
I'd never...but you could make her believe it. I even tried taking
her away for the weekend to talk about our relationship."

Poppy had almost smiled at the undertones of
horror in his voice.