The Fiancée Fiasco (20 page)

Roseanne forced herself to meet his eyes. He hadn't been the only one surprised. She hadn't come as close to falling into bed with a man in years.

"'Course we haven't done the deed," he temporized.

Of course not! If they had, Roseanne would have been a goner. Win's kisses alone made her want to melt into puddles. "And I can now see why not," she quickly interjected. "You're not in the market for a full-on relationship. After Sylvia— Well, you probably don't want to have anything to do with 'serious' ever again."

Win's eyes glittered strangely in the light from the floor lamp. "No," he said slowly. "You wouldn't think so, would you?"

"Right," Roseanne replied brusquely. "Of course not. How could you ever trust a woman again? The same way I could never trust a man."

"Uh huh." Win raised his glass and held it by the fingertips of both hands. He regarded Roseanne over the rim. "And yet," he drawled very slowly, "sometimes I wonder..."

His words trailed off, leaving Roseanne feeling as if he'd brushed her fur the wrong direction. "There's nothing to wonder about," she returned. "Trust issues. This is the real reason we both agreed to keep our relationship casual."

"Ri-i-ight," Win drawled again. He lowered his glass to look at her more fully. A slow smile curved one side of his mouth. "And yet, somehow we're engaged to be married."

"Oh, come on. That isn't real—"

"No, worse 'n that," he went on, a low laugh escaping him. "Seems you're goin' to be having my baby."

Her face went hot. "I already apologized about that—"

"Uh uh uh." He shook his head. "I'm not sure an apology is enough here, Roseanne. Not enough to fix my life. Which has gotten pretty complicated with all the stories you've been spreading willy-nilly."

"Okay, okay." She held up her hands. "I complicated your life. A little bit. I admit it. But really, Win, what can I do about it now?"

His smile had grown to both sides of his mouth. "Oh, I can think of a few things." He set his glass on the floor and steepled his fingers. "For starters, you could go ahead and marry me."

The suggestion made Roseanne feel oddly unsteady. "Very funny, Win."

"You're right. That's not the right order, is it?" He laced his hands behind his head, still grinning. "The way you got things worked out, first would be gettin' pregnant."

"Now, that is
really
not funny." But Roseanne met Win's still-glittering eyes and wasn't sure he was joking.

"I think it is. C'mon, honey. Whadda you say? Want to make me a happy man tonight?" His smile went from ear to ear.

Her insides felt less steady than ever, positively swimming, in fact. The idea of carrying Win's child—an idea that should have left her cold—instead made her feel very wobbly inside.

On the other hand... "What I'd say is that you've had too much to drink," Roseanne pointed out.

His smile managed to broaden. "Possibly."

"Plus you're trying to get a rise out of me."

"Definitely."

Roseanne heaved a deep, dramatic sigh. As a side benefit, she hoped the infusion of oxygen would cure her inner wobble problem. She didn't want a baby any more than Win wanted to give her one. This was just drunken bluster on Win's part.

He wasn't in the market for a serious, committed relationship. His one attempt at such a thing had turned into a nightmare. So now he was just letting off steam about their earlier argument, and the idea Roseanne was making a getaway while he was left to pick up all the pieces of their fabricated romance.

"I think you ought to get some sleep," Roseanne advised. "We've got to wake up bright and early tomorrow for my flight."

"Oh, yeah." Win lowered his hands from behind his head. "Your flight tomorrow."

"That's right. You wouldn't want me to miss it." Now, more than ever, Roseanne was sure Win looked forward to her departure. It was amazing he'd agreed to any type of relationship with her at all. He certainly wouldn't want her to stick around. The last thing he'd want would be for matters to deepen, or lead in any way toward matrimony.

"I sure would not want you to miss anything like that." Win's smile disappeared.

"Good night, Win." Momentarily, Roseanne swayed toward him. Force of habit. They always kissed good night. But tonight she forced her body straight again. His eyes held a strange light and he was, self-admittedly, drunk.

"Good night, Roseanne," he said, with exaggerated care.

Yes, definitely drunk. "I'll see you in the morning." Roseanne turned on her heel, away from that strange look in his eyes. She strode swiftly back to her bedroom.

Married and pregnant. The idea!

~~~

"Fifteen minutes!" Win's voice barked at Roseanne from the other side of her bedroom door. The voice was followed by a barrage of knocks on that same door. "I hope you're awake, lady, because you've only got fifteen minutes before we have to leave for the airport."

Gasping, Roseanne sat up in bed. She'd been asleep, deeply asleep. So deeply asleep, and so deep in a dream that she was entirely disoriented by Win's snapping voice.

In her dream, he'd been entirely different. In her dream, they'd been sitting on the Indian-pattern sofa, wrapped in each other's arms. They hadn't been kissing, just holding each other. The sweetest sensation had sifted through Roseanne, a combination of warmth, fulfillment, and safety. She'd simply wanted to sink into the moment...forever.

"
Fourteen
minutes!" Win shouted through the door, and then stomped away.

Roseanne shook her head, trying to shake away the dream. Win must have given it to her with that stupid joke he'd made the night before, the suggestion about getting married and starting a family.

As if that could be what either one of them wanted.

Throwing off the covers, Roseanne got out of bed. As a matter of fact, she had a plane to catch—a plane to take her home and to that partnership now waiting for her.

The security and independence she'd sought since she was eleven years old were but a flight away.

"You can stop pounding," Roseanne informed Win ten minutes later when she opened her bedroom door. She didn't even blink at his fist which was raised to knock again. "I'm dressed and packed. The bed is stripped and the papers are on the desk."

She turned quickly from his startled face and pointed to the desk by the wall. "Just sign them and we can be on our way." She knew her attitude was odd: cool and standoffish. It was that damn dream, still working on her. It made her want strange things...like not to leave Houston. In reaction to such an idea, she felt the need to keep Win at a distance.

Accordingly, she swiveled toward her suitcase as Win walked into the room. She bent over it as if closing her bag were the most important thing in the world.

But she could see him out of the corner of her eye. As he sat before the desk, he extracted a pair of wire frame glasses from his shirt pocket. It was a casual, button-down shirt, tucked into a pair of crisply ironed khaki trousers.

Despite the casual dress, he'd probably be going in to the office later. Roseanne refused to think about that, or about how today she wouldn't be going in with him. No, nor the next day after that. In fact, she'd never be driving in to the office with him, arguing over the radio station, ever again.

Habit, she scolded herself fiercely. She refused to feel loss. It was only a habit she was breaking here, nothing more.

It didn't take Win long to look over the retainer agreement. By the time Roseanne had hauled her closed suitcase off the bed and onto the floor, he'd picked up the pen she'd earlier set on the desk and begun signing his name in the three spaces provided.

For some reason, the sight of Win soberly and obediently signing his name to the damn retainer agreement made Roseanne want to crawl into a hole.

No, she shouldn't feel bad. She'd earned this, dammit.

When he was done, he picked up the papers, folded them, and fit them into the envelope she'd also left on the desk.

"Here y'go." He swiveled in the chair and held the envelope toward her.

So she was a coward. She didn't quite meet his eyes as she accepted the envelope.

"That's that, then." She stuck the envelope into her purse. "Let's go."

But it was hard to breathe as Win lumbered to his feet. She didn't want to go.

No. Wait.
What
? She didn't want to go? Of course she wanted to go. Her life in Seattle had been on hold for the past ten days. It was time to get back to it.

Win regarded her with hooded eyes. "Now, why do I feel like I've been taken in, chewed thoroughly, and then spit out again?"

Roseanne stiffened. He was returning to the old refrain of being sorry he'd ever let her into his house. "No need to cry, Win. You are getting a fine group of attorneys to handle your corporate needs. With the branch office here in Houston, you won't have to go bothering George with your miscellaneous legal troubles any more."

She didn't add that he wouldn't have to worry about Sylvia any more. It was a sore subject in many ways.

"Or you," Win added quietly.

"What? Right. Or me. You won't have to bother me." Roseanne set her hand around her suitcase handle. "Now can we get a move on? I don't want to miss that flight."

"Heaven forbid you should miss that flight." Win deftly transferred the suitcase from Roseanne's hand to his own before striding into the hall. "You'd only catch the next one."

True, Roseanne thought, but she didn't say so. Win's mood had started out rotten this morning, and was only getting nastier. Probably had a hangover.

Or possibly he was wondering what, exactly, he'd gotten out of the whole business. He had a fake engagement to maintain, and then dissolve, after which rumors of a reconciliation with Sylvia could easily start up again.

Okay, so he'd had a few days of casual romance with a not-his-type woman, but he hadn't even gotten laid, which was usually a major consideration to a man. Come to think of it, why
had
Win been willing to put up with a basically chaste relationship?

He had every reason to be sorry he'd ever set eyes on Roseanne Archer.

The atmosphere in the car on the way to the airport was thick enough to be cut with a knife. Roseanne wisely kept her mouth shut. She feared simply clearing her throat might set off an explosion.

"Let me handle the bag," Win snarled once he'd parked in the structure. He'd insisted on parking and following her to the gate rather than simply dropping her off at the curb.

"It's all yours." Roseanne gingerly backed away from the open trunk. In a way, Win's foul temper was making this whole farewell scene much easier for her. It was a welcome distraction from some pretty serious second thoughts. If he'd acted sweet, she might have wondered—again—how much she actually wanted to leave.

Hauling her suitcase, Win led the way through the parking structure and to the terminal. Without asking Roseanne, he made a beeline toward a curbside porter, then growled out a demand for her airplane ticket so he could check the bag.

He was definitely making this whole leaving thing much easier.

"Put that somewhere safe," Win told her, flicking the luggage stub with one finger.

He was acting so overbearing, Roseanne couldn't resist at least one dig. "Yes, Daddy."

He raised an eyebrow. "Don't push me, sweetheart."

Roseanne stuffed the ticket stub into her purse, right next to the envelope with the retainer agreement. "It looks like I won't miss the plane, after all, if that's what you're worried about." Win had driven like a maniac to get to the airport. Eager to get rid of her, no doubt. "I'll be out of here before the sun hits the mesquite."

"No, you wouldn't miss that plane." His voice was rough. "At least not if
I
have anything to do with it."

So that's how he felt. Roseanne hardened herself against whatever stupid, soft emotions might get roused by Win taking hold of her arm. He was only doing so to hasten her toward the gate.

It didn't do him much good at the security checkpoint, however, where he sailed through without a hitch, as usual, while Roseanne had to remove her belt, shoes, and pocket change before getting cleared.

"What happened to your ticket?" Win wanted to know once they were by the gate.

"It's right here." Roseanne proudly held the document aloft. "And there's no line at the desk. I can go get a boarding pass, no problem." She froze at the strange expression that crossed his face. "What's wrong?"

"They're calling your flight." Win's tone was accusing.

"And this is a problem, how? We're right at the gate, Win. I have not missed my flight."

"Of course you haven't!" He seemed unaccountably distressed. "But I don't have any time—"

"Time?" Roseanne was confused. "Time for what?"

"Nothing." He hissed through his teeth. "Never mind."

"Okay, fine. Be that way." Roseanne was getting rather irritated, herself. Perhaps it wasn't as maudlin as it could have been, but he was still drawing out this whole goodbye business. They could have waved 'so long' at the curb ten minutes ago.

"Yes, I
am
this way," Win gritted out. "Boy, you make me angry, and you're the only person who can do it, too."

"Well, if that isn't the pot calling the kettle black—"

"Let's not argue, Roz," Win interrupted, completely unfairly, Roseanne thought, since he was the one who'd started it. "We don't have time." His hands were suddenly around her waist.

"Now, wait just one minute—" But as usual, whenever Win touched her, any thought of resistance went flying out the window. Her arms went around his neck, her body softened against his.

"Apparently that's all I've got," Win muttered. "Kiss me, Roseanne."

She closed her eyes as he fit his mouth against hers. It was a rough kiss, hard and brief. It was both angry and...something else, something she couldn't understand.

"Take care of yourself, Roz," he murmured softly, and then he was gone.

Literally, gone. Roseanne was left swaying off balance, her body cold where his had just pressed against it. Meanwhile, Win's lone, lean figure strode swiftly down the concourse. Even as she watched, he got swallowed up in the crowd.