The Sweetheart Hoax Read online

  Look at her, Margot thought. The woman with everything didn’t have everything after all. “I could use a friend as much as you, Kate. If things don’t work out, I’ll do the mature thing and blame Phil.”

  “Good.” Kate eased up from the couch and reached her hand out for Margot. The dog got up, stretched, and wagged his tail. “Come with me and we’ll see what we can do about your clothes.”

  Chapter 7

  Phil sat in his office and tried to work the design for the restaurant they were building on Andover, a project he’d fought hard to win and one that deserved his full attention. But he couldn’t concentrate on anything but what was going on in their lobby. The girl Margot had recommended and he’d hired had the loudest voice. As he sat back in his chair, reached for his ball, and began tossing it from hand to hand, he decided loud wasn’t the most appropriate word. Annoying. There was something about her voice that grated on his nerves.

  He’d have to learn to live with it, he told himself and flicked the ball away, stood up, and closed his office door. He returned to the computer and his initial drawings, but he still couldn’t concentrate. He felt silly for feeling panicky at the thought of Margot leaving. She was their receptionist, not a major player in their organization. She’d made it sound like a monkey could do her job the way she went on about how much time she’d had to study over the years. But something about the change in employees had him feeling uneasy.

  He considered the fact that maybe he felt edgy because, in one day, he and Margot were scheduled to leave for their weekend in Cash. He’d been thrilled when she accepted and had spent the last week sharing detailed notes on his family history and what to expect when they arrived. She’d rolled her eyes every time he’d handed her another typewritten sheet and tucked it away in her bag. He only hoped she’d read his mini-biographies of his brother and his wife, his mom and dad, and the assortment of people they were certain to run into over the weekend.

  He called, “Come in,” to the knock on his door and felt relieved to find Margot alone on the other side. “Good,” he said. “Come on in and sit down. I need to talk to you.”

  She stayed at the entrance of his office, her hand still on the doorknob. “I just wanted to let you know that Rebecca and I are going to the office supply store.”

  “Oh,” he said. “I guess we can do this when you get back.”

  “I’m leaving on time tonight, Phil, so whatever you want is either going to have to wait or you can give it to Rebecca.”

  “I need to talk to you about the trip.” He pulled more notes from his briefcase and caught the tail end of her look toward heaven. “I’ve typed up a few more notes and I’d like to go over them with you.”

  “It’ll have to wait until tomorrow,” she said.

  “We leave tomorrow.” He sighed and looked down at his calendar. He’d scheduled a haircut for later that night and had to run by the dry cleaner and pack, but if she was going to be difficult… “I guess we can do this over dinner. I’ll have to reschedule some things, but why don’t you meet me at that new café on 5th around 6:30?”

  Margot’s cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink before she shifted her glance to his floor and said, “I can’t do dinner tonight. I have a date.”

  “A date?” He couldn’t have been more surprised if she’d said she was running with the bulls. “You’re going on a date the night before our weekend together?”

  “You mean our ‘pretend’ weekend together? Yes, I’m going on a date.”

  “Well…”

  “Look,” she said. “Our flight doesn’t leave until three. We can either go over your notes in the morning or on the plane.” She stepped back. “Don’t worry. I’m a quick study.”

  When she shut the door in his face, he felt…angry and a little bit upset. They were supposed to be in sync with each other for the weekend. How was that supposed to happen when she would be full of whomever she planned to spend the evening with?

  And just who the hell did she plan to spend the evening with?

  ***

  Margot tried to ease the tension that had settled just at the base of her skull without drawing attention to her rising headache. She didn’t want to be distracted while dining at a restaurant she’d wanted to visit since she’d heard Phil rave about its inventive Italian dishes. She didn’t want to be irritated that her date seemed perfectly fine with the snail’s pace with which the meal was progressing. She didn’t want to wonder if Phil was jealous she had a date. She didn’t want to think of Phil at all.

  Phil was her gold standard, the man she judged every other man against, and even though his shine had dulled in the last few weeks, she felt more excited than she should to be spending the weekend with him and his family. That excitement and her mental list of things to do before she left had the muscles of her neck seizing just as dinner finally arrived.

  “You’re really tense tonight, Maggie,” Randall said before popping a bite of Parmesan encrusted salmon in his mouth and letting out a moan of delight at its flavor. “I’d be happy to use my magic fingers on you later.”

  She just bet he would. Dr. Randy, as the nurses liked to call him, had a reputation as the cockiest surgeon on staff at Charleston General. He, like everyone else at the hospital, called her Maggie after her nurse instructor refused to listen every time she’d tried to correct the shortened version of her given name, Margaret. She’d skirted Randall’s invitation for weeks and had finally given in just to remind herself of what was left in the dating world if she crashed and burned on her weekend with Phil.

  “I’m going out of town this weekend, so I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

  He topped off her very excellent glass of cabernet. “You must not be worried about the NCLEX.”

  “I plan to study this weekend and all the following week. I’ll pass,” she said with an affirmative nod of her head. She’d worked too hard for too long to get this close and blow it at the end.

  “I’m looking forward to seeing you at the hospital,” Randall said with a decidedly wicked gleam in his eye and a toast with his glass.

  Dr. Randall McBain had reason to be cocky. He’d made a name for himself as a plastic surgeon at a very young age. His volunteer work with children with facial deformities had caused her to accept his offer of a night out, despite the fact that it was the last thing she wanted to do. “So tell me about your trip to Brazil,” she asked.

  “It was exhausting, as all the missions I’ve been on can be, but Rio is such a beautiful country.” He slathered butter on one of the restaurant’s famed garlic rolls and continued while chomping on the bread. “The beaches are magnificent and the food is incredibly fresh.”

  Margot swallowed her spicy pasta dish and had to take a drink of water to cool her mouth. “I’m sure Rio is gorgeous, but I meant the surgeries. How many kids with facial deformities were you able to help?”

  “Oh,” he dabbed at his mouth with the napkin. “Probably close to a hundred. You wouldn’t believe some of the living conditions these kids face. It was…” He took a sip of wine and Margot almost sighed as she anticipated his description of heartbreaking sadness. “Disgusting. I don’t know how people live like that.”

  She dropped her fork and began rubbing her neck with both hands as her muscles tensed. Good Lord, if he kept talking, she’d end up in a neck brace.

  “Hey, you okay?” he asked with genuine concern.

  She nodded and tried to placate him with a smile. He’d gone on mission trips with the Sunbeam Foundation for several years and changed countless lives for the better. Cut him a break, she told herself and offered up another question. Surely he wasn’t as shallow as he sounded. “How many countries have you visited?”

  “Six so far, and Brazil’s definitely my favorite. I try to stick to Mexico and South America. They’ve got some Middle Eastern trips and some to China, but I figure, why go so far from home? Besides, I’ve had enough patients from India to know I couldn’t stomach the smell for a week.”


  “Randall, that’s a pretty blanket statement for an entire region of the world.”

  “Hey,” he said with a calculated twitch of his lips, “if the blanket fits.”

  After a painfully long dessert where she kept the conversation clear of politics, religion, or anything that might tempt her to throw her fork in his eye, he walked her to her car where she’d parked along the curb.

  “Thanks for dinner, Randall.”

  “The evening doesn’t have to end with dinner.” He reached around and began using those magic fingers on her neck. “Wow, you’re tight as a drum.”

  It took several seconds for Margot to respond. He really did have a knack with those hands. “I’m headed out of town tomorrow, remember?”

  “Where are you going?” he asked as he circled her neck and used his thumbs at the top of her spine.

  “The Midwest.” She felt grateful her words had come out of her mouth as a squeak instead of a moan.

  “Why in the world?” he asked. “I think I’d prefer India.”

  He’d loosened her up enough to laugh. “A favor for a friend.”

  He maneuvered around to face her, his hands cupping her face. “Must be a good friend. It’s just as well. My sister’s in town for the weekend.”

  Before she knew how it happened, his lips were on hers, lightly, lingering, just enticing enough to make her forget they were along a pedestrian street and that she really didn’t like him. Like him or not, the man could kiss and it had been a long time since she’d been kissed. He pulled back before she had to insist and flashed a smug smile.

  “That ought to hold us both until you get back.” He plucked the keys from her hand, unlocked the door, and ushered her inside.

  She nodded like a robot and started the car. He waved her off as she pulled onto the street. Had she agreed to see him again? Damn it. Maybe there really was magic in Dr. Randy’s hands.

  Chapter 8

  “What happened to you?” Phil asked as he stepped inside Margot’s house and stared at his receptionist. Except she didn’t look like the same person who’d strolled out of his office that morning. Gone were the flyaway curls and dumpy clothes. Before him, in the tidy little den of her house, stood a flaxen haired beauty. Her curls had been tamed into silky waves that landed just above her breasts. Her teal wrap dress showcased every curve and angle of her petite little body.

  “What happened to you?” she asked with a puzzled look on her stunning face. He couldn’t decide what surprised him the most, the glossy thickness of her hair, her athletic, hourglass figure, or how he tingled when her yellowish brown eyes made quick work of his attire.

  “It’s the corn belt, Margot, not Fifth Avenue. What did you think I’d be wearing?”

  “Um,” she said and tapped a polished finger against her chin. “Not designer jeans, cowboy boots, and a flannel top. Where’d you buy that getup? The local feed and seed?”

  “What about you?” he asked. “Since when do you wear silk wrap dresses and peep-toe sling backs?”

  “Since you called me plain. Kate took mercy on me and let me borrow some clothes.”

  “I hope you packed some jeans and t-shirts, because we’re not going to the country club.”

  She slung a very nice leather hobo bag over her shoulder and reached for the handle of her suitcase. “Of course I packed jeans. What am I? A moron?”

  At the moment, he’d have to say she was a very sexy, very irritated woman. And he felt like he’d stumbled into an ambush. He’d felt uneasy as he’d pulled up in front of her cottage home after she’d barely spoken three words to him at work except to shout her address when he’d insisted upon picking her up. She’d been awfully pissy at work for a woman who’d been wined, dined, and kissed silly on the sidewalk of one of Andover’s busiest streets. He’d never felt more stupefied than when he’d stepped out of the takeout place and seen her in a lip-lock with Dr. Feelgood. He wrestled the handle of the suitcase out of her grip and held the door open for her.

  “I can get it myself,” she said as she locked the two deadbolts.

  “Crime bad in this area?” he asked.

  She breezed past him on the narrow walk and wobbled to the car like a runway model on her first trip down the catwalk. “My mother was a bit of a safety freak.”

  “This is your mom’s house?” He knocked her hand away and opened the passenger door for her.

  She sighed and angled herself into his Mercedes. “It used to be.”

  After tossing her suitcase in the trunk, he joined her in the car. The enclosed space only amplified her scent, something floral and fruity and erotic as hell. Damn it, the weekend was off to a difficult start.

  For a week, he’d imaged the weekend in his head and detailed the playbook he’d drawn for Margot to study of his history and his family. Now, only four-hours from game time, she decided to go rogue. “I wasn’t expecting you to be so…to look so…”

  “So what?” she asked with a deliberate flutter of her mile long lashes. She’d even hidden her freckles behind a layer of foundation.

  “So sophisticated. I kind of gave my mom the impression you were young and earthy.”

  “I thought your family wouldn’t buy you dating someone young and earthy?” she threw back in his face.

  He let out an exasperated sigh. “Did you bug my office?” He looked over at her in his black leather seats. The dress had parted over her crossed knee and exposed a distracting amount of leg. He motioned for her to cover herself up. “That’s why I gave them a heads up.”

  “Dressed like this, they might buy the fact that we’re together,” she explained. “I’m young and earthy, yet sophisticated and fashionable.” She sneered at him and spoke in a sugary sweet voice. “We’re perfect for each other.”

  “Did you read the new bios?”

  She sighed. “Yes, Double-Oh-Seven. You can quiz me on the plane.”

  “That’s not necessary. If you say you know it, then I believe you.”

  “Good,” she said.

  “Now that I’ve been to your house,” he said as an intro to something that had bothered him the moment he’d pulled up in front of her mailbox. “I realize I don’t know anything about you.”

  “We’ve worked together for three years, Phil.”

  “Yes, and yet I didn’t know the job was just a stepping stone for you on your way to bigger and better.”

  “Only because you didn’t ask or pay any attention.”

  That had certainly been true. Of course, if she’d worn that dress, those heels, and the sexy perfume to the office, he probably would have noticed. And that didn’t speak very highly of him. “So give it to me now. You’re living in your mom’s house. Where is she?”

  She turned to look out the window. “She died when I was eighteen.”

  “Oh,” he said. Just because he couldn’t see her face didn’t mean he couldn’t hear the sadness in her voice. “I’m sorry to hear that. It must have been hard.”

  “It was.”

  “Any brothers or sisters?”

  She swallowed hard and twisted her hands in her lap. “Nope,” she said. “Just me.” She swung her head around and plastered on a smile that didn’t quite reach those fetching eyes. “So, your brother Devon sells farm equipment and breeds horses?”

  “I thought you read the bios?”

  “I did. I’m just trying to make conversation.”

  “Yes,” he said through gritted teeth, and then deliberately relaxed his jaw and shoulders. “Devon’s also married to his high school sweetheart and has two perfect children for my mother and father to spoil.”

  “You’re jealous?” she asked.

  “Jealous that my younger brother has only been with one woman, has never been farther from home than the Wisconsin Dells, and sells tractors and balers and a hundred other pieces of equipment I can’t name? Absolutely not.”

  “I see,” she said, with a nodding of her head that had her waves bouncing like a model in a hair comm
ercial. “You’re just a snob.”

  He leered at her. “You mean a gay snob.”

  She gave a snorting chuckle that reminded him of who was underneath the polished exterior. “Yeah, lest I forget.”

  He pulled into a parking spot at Charleston International Airport, turned the car off, and looked Margot in the eye. “Ready?” he asked.

  “Ready or not.” She took a deep breath that had her chest rising provocatively. “Cash, Illinois, here we come.”

  ***

  Margot kept sneaking glances at Phil during the bumpy flight. He looked ridiculous in a plaid flannel shirt so new she was surprised she didn’t see a tag dangling from his sleeve. He couldn’t have been more obvious if he’d donned a Halloween costume. As she fidgeted to adjust the pushup bra Kate had insisted she wear with the dress, she knew they both felt uncomfortable and wondered for the millionth time what in the world had possessed her to accompany him on this farce.

  “So,” Phil said as he settled into his seat after a trip to the bathroom. He’d combed his hair, Margot noted as he clicked his belt in place and pulled it tight across his waist. “How was your date?”

  “It was fine.” She looked up from her study notes to find him staring at her with a stony expression on his face.

  “Where’d you go?” he asked.

  “Di Paolo.”

  “Um, very nice. I took Kelly there a few weeks ago. Did you have their tiramisu? You’d love it.”

  “No, I had pie.” She flopped her papers in her lap and went on impulse. “So why did you and Kelly break up?”

  He sighed and looked up at the ceiling of the plane. “She was a bit flashy for my taste.”

  “She was all about the flash. She always has been.”

  “I guess I mistook her flash for…sophistication. I can’t stand to date a woman with baggage.”

  “Baggage?”

  “The billboard ad. Scandalous, to me, equals too much baggage.”