The Sweetheart Hoax Read online

  So noted, Margot thought. She couldn’t think of another woman, Kelly included, who had more baggage than she did.

  Phil gave her the once over. “I guess your date didn’t keep you out too late?”

  “Nope,” she said and drew her eyes back to the sample questions she’d printed off the Internet.

  The signs and symptoms of an abdominal aortic aneurysm couldn’t keep her attention as she felt his gaze on the side of her face. She’d tried hard to put her date in the back of her mind. It hadn’t been hard with all the packing she’d had to do to get ready for the trip. She hadn’t let herself wonder why she felt so ambiguous about Dr. Randall McBain. He was certainly a step up from her last boyfriend, the auto parts cashier whose only goal in life was to record an album with his garage band. Why she’d wasted even an ounce of her time on someone so completely void of ambition had her grappling with an ugly truth. She was lonely.

  As soon as her mother had died, she’d thrown herself into nursing school and work at Flannery & Williams. Her single-minded determination to pay her bills and better her life had left her little time to do anything other than grieve and study. With the finish line in sight, she felt strangely apprehensive about swapping her day job for a career, and the only reason she could come up with as to why was that she’d have precious few people with whom to celebrate her success. Her date with the reputed ladies man of Charleston General had left her feeling more alone than ever.

  Phil tried to tuck his long legs under the seat in front of him as the flight attendants pushed the drink cart past their aisle. He bumped her legs in the process and leaned over her shoulder.

  “What are you studying?”

  “Sample questions for the NCLEX,” she answered without looking up. She could tell he was bored and becoming more restless by the minute. She reached her hand out to still his bobbing leg. “Do you have to pee again?”

  “No. Sorry.” He drummed his fingers on the armrest and looked around the plane. “When I was little, we’d always drive to our vacations. My brother and I used to play this game where we’d look out for other cars and try to guess where they were going by the style of car and the people inside.”

  “That’s very inventive.”

  “It used to drive my father crazy,” he said, “but my mom would end up laughing and joining in eventually.”

  “You sound just like the Griswolds.”

  He bumped her shoulder with his. “I figured you were too young to know the Griswolds.”

  So much for studying on the plane. She sighed and tucked the pencil behind her ear. “My mother was a huge Chevy Chase fan. I’ve seen all the Vacation movies.”

  “Perfect,” he said. “If you’re a Chevy Chase fan, this game should be right up your alley.”

  “I said my mother was a Chevy Chase fan.”

  “What kind of movies do you like?” he asked, flipping open the clasp to his watch and shutting it over and over and over again. He was having a harder time sitting still than the little boy in the row in front of them.

  “I like those silly horror flicks where the girls are too stupid to live and there’s plenty of blood,” she said.

  “Yuck.”

  She gave a snorting laugh when he cringed. She kept forgetting to use the giggle she’d practiced instead of her unfeminine snort.

  “I suppose you prefer a good chick-flick?” she asked.

  “Very funny. I like a legal thriller or a suspenseful action movie, as the heterosexual macho man that I am.” He deepened his voice and bunched his arm into a muscle.

  She felt her resolve melting as the brilliance of his smile and eternal energy radiated off him in waves. He wrestled the notes from her fist and held them out of reach. “Come on, Margot. You’re ignoring me.”

  “I’m studying, which is what you promised I’d have plenty of time to do.”

  “You’ve got all weekend and next week to study. Besides, there’s no movie, I forgot to bring something to read, and you’re sitting there like a bump on a log.”

  “I’m studying,” she said and made an ill-fated reach for her notes. His arms were so much longer than hers she may as well have been reaching for the sun. “Fine, if you’re going to be a juvenile, we’ll play.”

  “Okay,” he said and rubbed his hands together like a mad scientist. He looked past her toward the man sleeping on Margot’s left with his head against the open window. “We’ll start with him,” he whispered in her ear. “What do you think?”

  She couldn’t think at all with his breath on her neck and the familiar scent of his woodsy cologne distracting her senses. She glanced over and made quick note of the gentleman’s pinstriped button down, the briefcase tucked under the seat in front of him, and the large college class ring on his right hand.

  “He works for a computer start-up,” she whispered back toward Phil. “He’s leveraged everything he’s got to cover his mounting gambling debts and is on his way to a meeting with a potential client that could save his ass.” She studied the man’s chubby face, slack from sleep. “He was up all night practicing his presentation and his wife’s pissed he never came to bed.”

  “He’s not wearing a ring,” Phil pointed out. “Why do you think he’s married?”

  “He’s too macho to wear a ring and it really cuts down on his chances to score a quickie while he’s away from the nagging wife and the kids.”

  “Kids?”

  “Two,” she said. “Boy and girl. They got married when she got pregnant.”

  “Interesting. So his career’s on the line and he’s still up for some out of town nookie.”

  Margot shrugged. “Men are pigs.” She was enjoying their repartee, the feel of his arm pressed against her side, and way his eyes laughed into hers a little too much. She straightened in the seat and cleared her throat. “Okay, your turn.” She scanned the aisles for their next victim. “Him, over there on the right, two aisles up. The one with the fedora and the sunglasses.”

  “Well,” he said with a delighted grin. “He’s a record producer.”

  “On his way to St. Louis?” she asked.

  “Let me finish. There’s an Internet sensation, a ten-year-old girl, prematurely developed with the golden pipes of Lady Gaga.”

  “At ten?”

  “I’m going to tape your mouth shut,” he said and wagged a finger in her face. She was tempted to bite the end. “As I was saying, she’s become famous, and he’s on his way to bid for her affections and for her signature on the contract he’s taped to his chest. See,” he pointed when the man looked over his shoulder and gazed around the plane. “He’s nervous because there may be others on board trying to get to her first. The hat and glasses are just a disguise.”

  “A very poor one, if you ask me,” she said.

  “Which he didn’t.” Phil glanced about the plane and nodded with his head at the flight attendant. “What about her?”

  “The flight attendant?”

  “Sure,” he said. “She looks a little too old to be working the aisles. I think there’s a story there.”

  Margot laughed. Their fun came to an end as the attendant in question served them drinks and a tiny bag of peanuts. “What do you think people think when they see us?” she asked.

  “Us? Hummm.” He rubbed his chin and narrowed his eyes. “Well, you look like a young newscaster on her way to cover the big strike at the dog food factory in St. Louis. You’re scared and excited and just hungry enough to make the story worth watching.”

  It didn’t escape her notice that he’d called her young again. Just when she thought they’d made some progress. Although why she thought the fact that he’d asked her to play a game he used to play as a child meant anything other than he thought of her as a kid was simply wishful thinking. She was going to get hurt this weekend because the more time she spent with him, the more relaxed they became with each other, the more her attraction deepened. Knowing the only thing he felt for her was a fleeting sense of gratitude only seemed t
o make matters worse.

  “Why the frown?” He drew his finger along the line between her brows. “I thought we were having fun?”

  “You didn’t say what people thought of you,” she reminded him. If he kept staring at her with his eyes wide, she was tempted to do something stupid and profess her love or burst into tears.

  “Nope,” he said. “You have to do me.”

  She’d do him, all right. In a hot New York second. So, to protect her heart, she decided to be mean. “You’re plainly an equipment salesman who breeds horses on the side. Your father is about to retire and you’re worried he’s going to interfere with your business, so you’ve thrown your older and much more attractive brother under the bus by starting rumors that he’s gay in order to shame him home and run interference.”

  His mouth puckered in annoyance. “That wasn’t in the profile.”

  “I read between the lines.”

  Chapter 9

  Cash hadn’t changed. Main Street windows were decorated with paint for the Cash High School Cougar’s football game and people sported the familiar blue and yellow attire. As he and Margot drove through downtown in their rental sedan, he felt excited to see his mother as they approached his boyhood home. The closer they got, the more Margot squirmed in the seat next to him. She’d already chewed off her lip gloss during the hour drive from the airport and stared nervously out the window.

  “Are we almost there?” she asked for the millionth time.

  “Just another mile or two. Traffic is starting to jam up because of the game.”

  “What game?”

  He spared her a glance at the ridiculousness of her question. “It’s Friday. High school football? Cheering crowds? Horny teenagers? Adults reliving their childhood? Any of this sound familiar to you?”

  “Oh.” She shrugged. “I guess.”

  “Don’t tell me you weren’t a loyal Echo Egrets fan?” He signaled for a turn past the grocery store where he’d worked as a clerk in high school.

  “Not so much.”

  “Why not?” he asked. He couldn’t imagine not going to support the home team. “What the heck did you do on Friday nights in high school?”

  She stared at her lap for a moment before raising her eyes to his. “My mom was in the hospital a lot. Going to games didn’t seem that important at the time.”

  He didn’t miss the edge in her voice that told him to back off that particular subject. It was just as well. He didn’t know what to say and they’d arrived at his drive.

  “This is it?” she asked as he pulled the car to a stop in front of the rambling old farmhouse. He wondered why his parents had never gotten a smaller house that didn’t require so much upkeep after he and his brother left the nest. His dad had put a fresh coat of brick red paint on the door and shutters and the setting sun shone brightly off the polished windows. He hoped his parents hadn’t gone to any trouble for his visit home with Margot. Knowing his mom, she probably had.

  “Home sweet home.” He hopped out, stretched his back, and was on his way around the car to open Margot’s door when she opened it herself. For a moment, his mouth went dry as she swung her legs to the ground and gracefully climbed out of the car.

  He didn’t like the path his male addled brain had decided to take with Margot, zooming straight from a semi-friendship to noticing the curve of her backside and her slender, tapered ankles. He felt very grateful she’d worn those boxy clothes to work all these years or else he would have had a hard time keeping his eyes and his hands to himself. He started to look away when he realized his appreciation for her would go a long way toward convincing his parents she was his girlfriend. He closed the door for her and thrust her against his chest, locking his arms around her tiny waist. She felt like a doll in his arms.

  “What the hell are you doing?” she asked with an irritated line between her brows.

  “We’re dating, remember.” He dipped his head and nuzzled her neck. He got a whiff of her perfume and almost took a bite out of her delicate skin. “If you don’t act like you like it, my parents are going to get very suspicious.”

  As if on cue, his mother stepped onto the porch and let the door slam at her back. “Well, well, well. Look what the cat finally dragged back in.”

  He pulled away from Margot to stare at his mother. The wind whipped her dark hair into her eyes and she’d draped a royal blue sweater over her shoulders. Her jeans were well worn in the knees and her bright pink jogging shoes made him laugh out loud. “You going to the game like that?” he asked.

  “You know I don’t wear yellow.” She walked down the steps and, when she reached the bottom, extended her hands to encase Phil in her long and sturdy arms. She smelled like cinnamon and goodness.

  “It’s good to see you, Mom.”

  “It’s been too long, Philly.” She gave him one last squeeze and shoved her arm through his before turning to look at Margot.

  Margot’s cheeks turned pink as she extended her hand with a nervous smile. “Mrs. Williams. I’m Margot Manning. It’s so nice to meet you.”

  His mother cradled her hand in hers. “I’m Judy Williams. What a lovely name you have, Margot. Sounds kinda like a movie star, doesn’t it, Phil?”

  He cocked his head to the side and pondered his mother’s question. This new Margot certainly was putting on one hell of a show. The wind tossed her carefully controlled tresses into disarray, helping him snap out of the weird place he’d let himself visit. Margot. Young Margot with the crazy hair and ugly clothes. Except she’d buried her mother and put herself through school. And when she put a little effort into her appearance, she didn’t seem so young after all.

  “You both must be starving after traveling all afternoon.” His mother led them up the stairs and inside the house. “I’ve got some stew on the stove and fresh bread in the oven. Why don’t you grab your bags, Philly, and let Margot freshen up until dinner’s ready?”

  He heard her talking, he knew she wanted him to get their things from the car and get settled, but he felt overwhelmed by the sights and smells of his home. The familiar squeaking of the screen and the cracking pop it voiced as it slammed shut. The smell of dinner in the kitchen and the slightly musty undercurrent even his mom’s best potpourri couldn’t mask. The faded braided rug under his feet and the wood in the fireplace waiting to be lit. He felt years older in the house that seemed to have shrunk around him, and yet as young and carefree as the child who’d once claimed it his own.

  “Phil?” His mother slapped him on the shoulder. “Go get the girl’s bags, honey. She looks ready to drop.”

  He looked over at Margot. She didn’t look ready to drop, she looked anxious and alone, twisting her hands together, her eyes wide with appeal that he snap out of his reverie and throw her a lifeline. “Mom, Margot loves sweet tea. Would you mind getting her a glass while I bring the bags in?”

  “Headed that way,” his mom said with a wave of her hand. As he stepped onto the porch, he heard his mother compliment Margot on her dress.

  He gathered Margot’s suitcase and makeup bag, along with his hanging bag and travel case, as quickly as he could. He didn’t want to leave his mom and Margot alone for too long without him there to run interference. As much fun as he’d had with Margot on the plane, they should have spent a lot more time syncing their stories. He was half way up the staircase to the second story when he heard his mother call, “I put fresh towels in the guest room, Phillip, and cleaned out some space in the closet. Put your bags in there and then come on down.”

  The guest room? Surely she meant for him to put Margot’s bags in the guest room. He wheeled her suitcase into the room with buttercup walls and the queen sized iron bed. The sheer curtains fluttered in the breeze and his mom had placed a finger vase of daisies on the nightstand. He could envision Margot there, her curls across the soft blue pillowcase, snug under the heavy white quilt his grandmother had made.

  He continued to his room on the same floor and stopped dead in his tracks a
t the threshold. “What the hell?”

  He dropped his bags on the wooden hallway bench and jogged down the steps. His mom and Margot sat at the round kitchen table, sipping tea from old Coke glasses. “Mom. Anything you want to tell me about my room?”

  She smiled up at him like the Cheshire cat. “You mean my new office? Do you like it?”

  “What do you need an office for and why did you have to use my room? What about Devon’s?”

  “Devon’s room is too dark and yours looks out over the meadow. It’s a happier view.”

  “A happier view,” he muttered under his breath. “Where’s all my stuff? And where do you expect me to sleep? In Devon’s room?”

  “Your stuff is in the barn. If you’d ever drive here, you could go through it and take what you want so we could get rid of the rest.”

  “Get rid of it?”

  “What is with you and your brother? Really, you should have seen the fit he pitched when we gave his bed to Goodwill.”

  “When you…what did you put in his room?”

  “Your daddy’s been exercising. I got him one of those stepping machines with the TV attached and some free weights.” She patted Phil’s stomach. “He’s lost fifteen pounds.”

  “Really? That’s great. I’ve been hounding him for years to do something about his potbelly.”

  “It’s more like an anthill now,” she said with a wink.

  He joined them at the table and reached for Margot’s glass. She tried to swat his hand away, but he snuck a quick sip first. He could have wept from the taste of his mother’s tea when suddenly everything she’d said hit him like a fist to the face. “You gave away Devon’s bed?” he asked.

  “Yes,” his mother said with a disapproving glance. “We needed room for the equipment.”

  “I know, but…where am I supposed to sleep? On the couch?”

  She bolted out of her seat and lifted the lid off the stew steaming on the stove. “The guest room, of course.”

  He looked at Margot. Her eyes bulged and she fumbled the glass of tea in her grasp. He’d never expected to sleep with her under his parents’ roof. He’d made it perfectly clear the sleeping arrangements wouldn’t be an issue as his parents would never in a million years let one of their sons sleep with a woman in the same room in their house. He knew it had been a long time since he’d been home, but it sure hadn’t been a million years. Margot kicked him under the table.