The Fiancée Fiasco (19 page)

His tone was amused, rather than censorious, and somehow that attitude really set her off. She didn't want him to act nice. Bad enough he'd already acted like he was hers. Worse yet, he'd gotten her to almost, kind of, want to be his.

Her annoyance with him was unreasonable. She knew that. But it only made her feel even more unreasonable. She wanted
him
to be the unreasonable one for a change. So she prodded.

"Yes, well," she sniffed. "While you were off 'socializing' with Sylvia I had to do something with myself. The choice was between flirting with Ted Charleston and drinking. Ted is good-looking, but rather a bore, so I chose to drink."

Win raised his eyebrows. "Huh."

It wasn't much of a response, not what Roseanne was looking for, so she prodded deeper. "My taste, as you see, is impeccable. Yours, however, leaves something to be desired. What were you doing with Sylvia for an hour?"

"For the last time, I was not—" Win stopped himself abruptly, then slid her a glance. "Wait a minute. I thought you weren't interested in an explanation."

Roseanne lifted a shoulder. "Since I donated ten days of my life to extricate you from the woman's clutches, I confess I'm curious how she reeled you back in again."

"You're the one who asked me to dance with her."

"I asked you to dance—not go out on the terrace and neck." Had the building had a terrace? Roseanne didn't actually know. Meanwhile, she waited for Win's denial he'd been necking with Sylvia.

Instead, she heard silence. That silence made ice coat her stomach. Somewhere inside she hadn't believed Win had truly been necking with his ex-wife. But now...?

"We did not neck," Win finally claimed, and cleared his throat. "That is, she gave me a little peck on the cheek. It was a...friendly thing. To let bygones be bygones, like you suggested. That's all."

Sylvia had kissed him. On the cheek only, but it was still beyond the bounds. The ice covering Roseanne's stomach turned to fire.

"Just a peck on the cheek," she snapped. "Then you missed out. Sylvia could have done so much more for you—or at least that's what Ted made sure to tell me."

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Roseanne couldn't believe she'd said them.

Win momentarily lost control of the car, for the first time Roseanne had ever witnessed. He swerved slightly into the next lane and then quickly righted his position. "Yes, well." His drawl was as dry as desert sand. "I suppose Ted would know."

Roseanne put out a hand to steady herself against the car's swaying motion. "Dammit, Win—"

"It's fine now."

It wasn't fine, although Win had meant the car. Roseanne would have given a lot to take her words back. They'd been spiteful and small. Biting her lip, she admitted, "I shouldn't have said that."

"It doesn't matter."

It mattered, Roseanne saw, glancing over at his set face. "I guess I just feel frustrated to see you falling back into Sylvia's manipulative little hands."

Win slanted her an unreadable look. "Now, why should you care what I decide to do about Sylvia? You're out of the business. Going home on an airplane tomorrow. It's not your problem any more."

Roseanne frowned, not liking his strange tone. "I guess you could say I have a vested interest."

"Not really. You're getting your retainer agreement and you're getting out. Very convenient. Nice and neat. While I'm left to clean up the mess."

Roseanne felt instantly defensive. "It's not that much of a mess."

Now Win's gaze bore straight ahead at the road. "Oh, no? I have to explain to everybody why you've gone. Then I'll have to make up a story for why you aren't coming back...ever. Not to mention that damn baby."

"Win, you agreed to this deal." Roseanne's reminder was weak, however. She knew very well under what conditions Win had agreed.

So did he. "Like I had a choice."

She hunched in her seat, pulling her shawl across her chest. He had a point, which predictably made her more reluctant to concede. "I'm not superwoman. I don't have paranormal powers. You didn't have to let me into Boyd's car on your way home from the Houston airport."

Win's jaw set. "Believe me, right now I wish I hadn't."

There. That said it all, didn't it? Roseanne turned her face quickly and gazed out the side window. Win did not consider her his woman, after all. In fact, he was sorry he'd ever met her. She kept gazing out the window, not wanting Win to see her sudden, and unacceptable, pain.

This had all been casual, for heaven's sake. She'd never been, or even wanted to be, his woman.

Once home, they got out of the car and marched into the house in a mutually sullen silence. While Win peeled off toward the kitchen, Roseanne made a beeline for the guest bedroom. She closed the door behind her, feeling unaccountably and deeply depressed.

She'd wanted some distance from Win. What she'd ended up with was the Grand Canyon. Ah, well. Probably for the best. After tomorrow she'd most likely never see the man again in her life.

But it was with a strange lump in her throat that Roseanne peeled off the lavender ball gown. She remembered Win picking it out for her, admiring it... Well, he'd admired it, anyway, before he'd seen Sylvia again.

She brushed her teeth and put on her nightgown, then got into bed. As if she were about to fall asleep. She lay on her back and stared at the wood beams on the ceiling while her insides felt cold and then hot and then cold again.

She didn't want to part from Win on bad terms. Especially when she suspected she was mostly to blame. She'd picked that fight with Win. She hadn't liked the way the evening had turned out. Playing Win's fiancée had felt far too...comfortable. And then there'd been her completely inappropriate jealousy of Sylvia.

Neither of which gave Roseanne the right to lash out at Win.

She frowned up at the ceiling. She was in the wrong. She should...apologize. Yes, maybe by doing that she could restore her relationship with Win, bring it back into balance.

For a long while she lay in bed and listened for his footsteps. When he came down the hall toward his bedroom, she'd step out her door and ask to talk to him.

His footsteps never came. Instead, maybe half an hour later, Roseanne heard something fall from the direction of the living room.

So, Win was still knocking about out there. It had to be after two in the morning.

Roseanne thought about it for another half a second, then threw off the bedcovers.

No doubt she was stark raving mad, but she pulled on a robe anyway and opened her bedroom door. The last thing Win probably wanted was another round with his unwanted houseguest, but Roseanne was determined to get that apology off her chest. To get them back to friends.

She found Win sunk into the easy chair by the Indian pattern sofa. His sharp features stood out starkly in the light of the single floor lamp. His long legs sprawled in front of himself while one hand dangled a glass of amber-colored liquid.

"Win?" Roseanne moved cautiously into the room. "What are you doing?"

"Sittin'." He was also obviously drinking. In fact, as she watched, he dragged the glass up to his lips and swallowed.

"Win." Roseanne came closer, her brows drawing down. Except for the dinner at his parents' house, she'd never seen him imbibe anything stronger than wine. Wincing as she remembered their quarrel in the car, she said, "Okay, right. I'm sorry."

Win checked his motion of lowering the glass of amber-colored liquid. "You are? About what?"

She cleared her throat. "Uh, what I said about Sylvia—" She waved a hand in the air. "I mean, what Ted said about Sylvia."

"Oh, that." His lips curved bitterly as he raised the glass again to his lips. "Don't worry about it. I figured out a long time ago I didn't have what it took to keep a woman like Sylvia satisfied."

Frowning, Roseanne crossed her arms over her chest. "What do you mean?"

Win raised his glass to eye level and swished it, watching the waves created inside. "I don't have a talent with people, just machines. And I particularly don't have a talent with women." He laughed softly. "Look at Sylvia."

"I was looking at her," Roseanne admitted. She remembered the spark lit in Sylvia's eyes when Win had asked her to dance. The woman's motives had been glaringly obvious. "Do you really need me to spell it out? She's after you."

Win breathed a laugh. "Oh, she's after me all right. But what she's really after isn't me, it's my power and position. That's it." He took another swallow of whatever was in his glass. "Not that I care any more. Thank God. But it sure hurt to find that out four years ago."

Beneath her crossed arms, Roseanne's heart picked up speed. What was he talking about? Not satisfying Sylvia and— Oh.
Oh
. Roseanne's eyes widened. Oh-h-h.

Finally, oh, finally a host of details came together in her mind: Ted's discomfort upon seeing Win, the fact they'd met once before—once only. The way Win had so suddenly deserted his wife, despite having been so in love with her, despite being a decent, honest person.

She felt sick, and a little faint. "Sylvia had a lover, didn't she? While you were married."

Win shot her a piercing look. "Finally figured that out, did you?"

A wave of dismay crashed through her. She must have been blind not to have seen it before now. She could hardly breathe as all the implications crashed in on her.

Win hadn't been a heel or a cad in his marriage. He hadn't betrayed any vows. Quite the opposite.

She should have seen this. Over the last ten days while getting to know Win, she should have been able to ferret out the truth. He shouldn't have been forced to slam it in her face. Instead there'd been a sort of dark curtain in her brain, a shield preventing her from making the necessary deductions. She supposed it had been safer to imagine Win at fault in the dissolution of his marriage. To view him as a deserter. Then she wouldn't have to view him as...a possible contender.

Whoa. Wait. Roseanne's mind mentally blinked. A contender for
what
? Shaking her head, she tossed the ridiculous thought away.

Meanwhile, Win lowered his gaze. "So now you know," he muttered.

Looking at him, Roseanne saw shame, rather than anger. That made
her
angry. He shouldn't feel shame, and particularly not on Sylvia's behalf. Oh, she was practically seeing red. Whatever reason she'd had for missing the truth about Win's marriage, her mission now was clear: destroy any victory Sylvia might have over Win.

"If Sylvia cheated on you," she told him, "it wasn't about your talent, sexual, or otherwise."

His lips twisted. "You got another hypothesis?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. You said it yourself. It was about power."

Win snorted. "I saw her right in the arms of her lover. Didn't look like it was about anything but sex to me."

Roseanne closed her eyes, trying not to picture that scene. Knowing Win, he hadn't had a clue what was going on before he'd walked right into the middle of it. How hurt he must have been!

Roseanne opened her eyes again. Clearly, the court was even more prejudiced than she'd presumed. She'd need to redouble the strength of her argument. "That was awfully careless of her," she mused aloud, slowly adding, "Unless it was planned."

"Planned?"

"Sure. Sylvia was trying to manipulate you, bring you to heel. She thought your engineering company was getting all of your attention, and that role was hers to play." Behind Sylvia's beautiful siren facade, Roseanne could see a woman capable of the scheme she was describing. "She probably thought she could frighten you into giving her the primary spot in your life."

"Frighten me?" Win sounded patient, as though he were humoring Roseanne's delusions.

"Yes. She thought you'd be so scared of losing her to another man that you'd kowtow to her every whim and desire. You were probably the first person she'd ever come across who didn't do so automatically. Anyway," Roseanne added, "she grossly miscalculated."

Win was now studying the liquid in his glass. "How's that?"

Roseanne uncrossed her arms. "She didn't realize the value you placed on fidelity in a marriage."

Win's throat moved as he looked up at her. "No, she sure didn't." He paused. "But
you
do, don't you?"

Oh, yes, she did. So much instability and fear and resentment had been caused when her father had left her mother for another woman that Roseanne understood very well. Win's family experiences gave him the same understanding. For him, faithfulness in a marriage would be an absolute.

He didn't love Sylvia still, as Roseanne had once thought. He hated her. In trying to win her husband's devotion, Sylvia had accomplished the exact opposite.

With a sigh, Roseanne nodded. "Yeah, I get it all right. But Win—" She paused, giving him a narrow-eyed look. "Why haven't you told your family the truth, what really happened? They're totally in the dark, think you've been unfair, acted like a heel."

Win's eyes hooded as he looked away. "My family's the last people I'd want to know about this. Hell, Roseanne. Can you imagine my daddy finding out I couldn't keep my wife happy in bed?" He gave a harsh laugh. "I told Ted and Sylvia I'd happily put a bullet through either one of 'em if they breathed a word of it. Apparently, they believed me. Damn humiliating."

He was still taking the shame on himself. Even after Roseanne had tried to explain: this hadn't been about
sex
.

Win's attitude made her feel sick inside. It wasn't right for him to feel inadequate. Especially since she felt, at least in part, to blame. She and Win hadn't become lovers, had they?

This hadn't been for lack of temptation on her part, however. It was important Win understand this. At the same time, she didn't want him thinking she was now asking for more. So, brushing her hair behind one ear, Roseanne adopted a breezy tone. "The woman must be mad. When it comes to you, I certainly haven't had any complaints."

Win's gaze shot back to her. "No, you don't seem to have any." He leaned back in his chair. "That came as quite a surprise."