The Fiancée Fiasco (3 page)

"You fixed it," she accused.

He shrugged, plainly unimpressed with his own power. "I guess there are a few things I can do." He paused. "Other than kill spiders."

Roseanne felt her face go uncharacteristically warm. She wondered how much of her little speech on the various uses of men Winthrop had overheard.

Judging by the tinge of color now visible on his high cheekbones, he'd heard more of it than the spider part. "Good day, ma'am. Thank you for your time."

"It was nothing." Roseanne felt chatty all of a sudden. "You gave me a great idea—I mean, maybe you'll be hearing from me."

The flicker of alarm that crossed his face before he walked out the door gave her a moment's pause. She was assuming Carruthers was sort of dense, socially. But maybe he wasn't as slow as she presumed. He might suspect she was up to something.

No matter. She meant Carruthers no harm. In fact, she thought there might be a way to solve everybody's problems all at once: George's disgrace, Carruthers' ex-wife, and last, but certainly not least, Roseanne's bid for partnership. She grinned and gave a push to her chair. It spun effortlessly around and around.

CHAPTER TWO

"Do you have to leave so soon?" Roseanne's longtime friend, Sheryl, rose from the dining room table and reached for a serving plate.

Roseanne glanced down at the slim gold watch on her wrist. "I'm afraid so—if I'm going to make that flight tonight."

Meanwhile Harlan, Sheryl's husband, jumped to his feet. "Here, let me take that for you, honey."

Sheryl relinquished the serving plate and sat back down to face Roseanne. "You haven't told me what this business trip is all about."

"It's about making partner this year." Roseanne smiled smugly. "I'm going to Houston to land one of the biggest clients CovMarch has ever lost. When I'm through, they're going to be so gosh darn grateful they'll finally hand me that partnership."

Harlan came back from the kitchen and began clearing the rest of the plates from the table. He cocked a chestnut eyebrow at his wife and the two shared a short, private smile.

Newlyweds, Roseanne smirked. Still, she loved Sheryl dearly and hoped the love and affection she now saw between the two of them would last. Sheryl was such a sweetheart that maybe it would. What man in his right mind would ever leave a little pixie doll like her?

"You've got the man well trained," Roseanne remarked approvingly when Harlan had once again disappeared behind the kitchen door. "At home from the office on a weeknight, and even helping with the dishes."

Sheryl dropped her gaze to the white tablecloth and picked up a spoon. "Well, Harlan wants to make sure I get enough rest."

"Why, are you hibernating?" As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Roseanne knew her mistake. She didn't even need Sheryl's telling blush to complete the picture. "Ah, silly me. You've gotten yourself in the family way, haven't you Sher?"

Sheryl looked up with mischief twinkling in her shy eyes. "Almost four months along."

Roseanne's fire engine red lips spread into a wide grin. Both women knew that Sheryl hadn't been married above three months. "Fast work, kiddo, but then you always knew you wanted kids."

Sheryl nodded and her deep joy was apparent. Roseanne could only wonder at it. She'd never experienced the urge to bear children, herself. But tonight, for the first time in her life, she felt curious about it. This was Sheryl, after all, her best friend. It was only natural to wonder.

"Well, you'd better go." Sheryl was all business. "Don't want you to miss your flight."

"Oh, that's right. Your news almost made me forget." It really had. That was odd. Roseanne rose and folded her napkin onto the table. "I won't feel bad about leaving you with the dishes, seeing you've got help this evening."

Sheryl grinned cheerfully. "Let me walk you to your car."

As the women walked the front path to the street, Sheryl asked, "Who is this client you're going to sign up, anyway?"

"No one I've mentioned before. It's all very sudden. I just met him yesterday and then George gave me this terrific idea of how to get my foot in the door." Roseanne grinned as she thought of how surprised Mr. Carruthers was going to be to find her black-pump-clad foot in his cast-iron doorway.

"Well, take care." Sheryl pressed her cheek against Roseanne's. "And, I don't know if this makes sense to say, but 'have a good time.'"

Roseanne barked out a laugh. "Oh, this is going to be very entertaining, if nothing else." The whole enterprise might consist of nothing more than a round trip to the Houston airport, but even that would be amusing, Roseanne thought. Yes, considering her plans for Mr. Carruthers, it should be most amusing indeed.

~~~

An hour later, behind a rack of colorful postcards of Seattle, Roseanne peeked out at the waiting airport lounge. There was only one airline with flights this evening to Houston. Roseanne's good fortune included the fact that this airline only had two flights. Carruthers would either be on the eight o'clock or the ten-thirty. She'd bought tickets for both, just in case.

Thank God for gold cards.

She froze when she actually saw him, walking down the concourse toward the gate. Oh, my. The surge of adrenaline hitting her was stronger than she'd expected. There was nothing like a good hunt, but this one was more exciting than most. Not only were the stakes high, but also it would take more sheer chutzpah than Roseanne had ever before used.

Burying her nose against a scene of Elliott Bay, she watched as Winthrop made his way past the metal detectors. The man in front of him had to get scanned head to toe by the over-sensitized instrument. The man behind him frantically emptied his pockets of change, but Winthrop sailed unconcernedly through, as if he hadn't expected the machine to give him the slightest problem. It didn't.

Roseanne waited while he traded his ticket for a boarding pass. Meanwhile she glanced at the large clock on the wall across from her. Only ten minutes until the plane would start boarding.

Carruthers found an empty chair in the lounge and seated himself heavily. All he was carrying was a bulky beige raincoat. Bending his head, he put one hand to the bridge of his nose and rubbed. He looked tired.

Good, Roseanne thought. Exhaustion might lower his defenses.

She replaced the postcard on the rack and pulled her suit jacket down over her hips. Time to move in for the kill.

"Mr. Carruthers."

He looked up at her in bald astonishment. "Miz Archer?"

"I told you I'd get in touch before you left town." Roseanne took the empty seat to his right.

He stared at her. "You did? But—here?"

"There's the matter of that newspaper gossip problem you wanted taken care of," Roseanne gently reminded him.

"Well, yeah, but..." Winthrop grunted and turned to face front. "There's nothing I can do about it. You and George were right."

"Oh...that's not strictly true."

She'd got his attention. His brows drew down the tiniest amount. Carruthers didn't give away much, but she was learning how to read the little he did show.

"What do you mean?" he asked slowly.

Roseanne flicked an imaginary piece of lint from her black pencil skirt. "Now, that all depends, Carruthers. On whether you're willing to make me a deal."

He turned to raise a very suspicious eyebrow at her. "Such as?"

"Such as: if I find a way to eradicate—forever—these rumors of a reunion with your ex-wife, will you sign a retainer agreement making CovMarch your corporate lawyer again?"

He took in a deep breath. He let it out with something very strange, something she'd never seen on his face before: a smile. It wasn't much of a smile, granted, just a slight pulling back of the lips and a pair of shy crescents around the corners of his mouth, but it was a definite, bona fide smile.

"That's a mighty interestin' deal." His smile actually grew a little. "I'd say if you can get rid of Sylvia—forever—I'd happily sign anything you put in front of me." He cocked his head. "But I'm afraid they're calling the flight."

He rose from his chair and held out his hand to her. "Why don't you give me a call tomorrow afternoon? I'll be in the office."

Still seated, Roseanne looked up from his offered hand. "I'd much rather take care of this tonight."

A shadow of annoyance crossed his face. "I've got to get on the plane."

"That's okay." Rising, Roseanne pulled her own boarding pass out of her purse. "We can discuss it on board."

His annoyance transformed immediately to alarm. "You—what?"

Roseanne waved the piece of paper in the air. "I've got a boarding pass. So we can continue our discussion on the plane to Houston."

"But—you can't come to Houston!"

Roseanne wrinkled her forehead in mock consternation. "Why not?"

"Because—" Carruthers stopped and looked guiltily around. His voice had inadvertently raised. "Look." He took hold of her by the elbow and firmly guided her away from the line of people waiting to board the plane. "I'm probably not going to like your idea anyway. It would be ridiculous for you to waste your time—a whole plane flight and back. Plus, well, it just wouldn't look right, would it?"

Roseanne took hold of his hand and attempted to remove it from her elbow. It was a useless effort. His grip was like steel. "I don't know what you mean about not looking right. And how do you know I'd be wasting my time?"

"Because." His jaw set. "I know Sylvia and you can't come up with an idea that will outwit that woman."

Was that what he thought? Roseanne raised an eyebrow. Carruthers' faith in his wife's abilities eased the only compunction she felt about the venture. To be honest, she wasn't actually on Carruthers' side in this battle. In every moral and emotional respect, she sided with the ex-wife. But if Sylvia were so clever, she could take care of herself.

Meanwhile, Carruthers' strong fingers dug into Roseanne's thin arm. "Ouch!" she exclaimed, more to make him let go than because it hurt.

Her ploy worked like a charm.

"Damn!" He let her go abruptly, looking suitably sheepish.

Roseanne rubbed her elbow for maximum guilt effect. "Hell, Carruthers, I'll turn right around in Houston and hop a flight back to Seattle if you insist. Anyway, I paid for my ticket. You can't stop me from getting on the plane."

He gave her a deeply concerned look. "True. I can't stop you from gettin' on the plane. But you promise you'll fly straight back to Seattle?"

"Yes." Roseanne paused, hesitant to surrender too far. "If you don't like my proposal."

He closed his eyes, apparently coming to terms with the inevitable. "All right, we'd better get on before the plane leaves without us. But you're flying straight back to Seattle, hear?"

"I hear you." And she was definitely not flying straight back to Seattle. Having caught a taste of her prey, this hunting cat was not giving up so easily.

"Assigned seats right next to each other?" On the plane, Carruthers gave her a withering glance as he stowed Roseanne's heavy carry-on bag in the overhead compartment.

Roseanne, already comfortably established in the window seat, studied her blood-red fingernails. "Just good luck, I suppose."

With a scowl, Carruthers folded his tall frame into the aisle seat. "You certainly know how to get your own way, don't you, Miz Archer?"

Roseanne's tone turned sharp. "I've been working at it ever since I was eleven years old."

"Really?" He gave her an inquisitive look. "What happened when you were eleven years old?"

"Nothing." Roseanne hastily threw a blanket over the old emotions. "Suffice it to say I learned no one was going to simply hand it to me."

He tilted his head. "Sounds like you and me learned the same lesson."

Roseanne frowned. "I thought your father was an oil baron." The son of an oil baron scarcely rated in her book as someone who'd had to claw his way up in the world.

"He was—still is, in fact." Carruthers could not disguise the quiet pride in his voice as he added, "But he didn't give me a thing to start Carruthers Engineering. Was against the whole idea from the beginning. In fact, he refused to pay for my graduate work in aeronautics. Thought it was a waste of time."

Roseanne was fascinated despite herself. "What does he think now?"

Carruthers shrugged. "According to my father, there is nothing in the world but oil." His face darkened. "Which is why this damn newspaper rumor about Sylvia is going to get all out of hand."

"What does one thing have to do with the other?"

"Everything." His mouth twisted wryly. "Sylvia's daddy and mine were longtime rivals in the oil business. But they're both getting old. My father has no one to pass his company to. I'm not interested, and neither are my sisters." He sighed. "The idea was that once Sylvia and I were married the two companies would merge. Sylvia has brothers. They'd take over. It would all stay in the family."

"But you were married for six years! Surely the merger was accomplished in that amount of time."

"Not the way my daddy and Sylvia's do business." Carruthers shook his head. "They wrangled over that thing until—well, it became something of a hobby with them, each trying to get one last concession out of the other."

Roseanne took a moment to think it out. "So now your father wouldn't mind seeing you remarry Sylvia. Then he could effect the merger and see that the company passed on to the next generation."

"You get the picture." Carruthers settled into his seat and fastened his lap belt. The metal tongue slid into the other side with the ease of butter.

"Your father isn't going to be happy when he finds out you don't actually intend to remarry Sylvia."

"To say the least." Carruthers closed his eyes and leaned his head back. "Oh, it'll just be one more disappointment in a long chain."

Since when did an engineering genius who'd started his own successful company from scratch rate as a disappointment?

Roseanne still didn't care for Winthrop Carruthers. He was still a man who'd left his young, defenseless wife. But she was starting to understand him a little bit better. That was all to the good, of course. The more she knew about her prey, the better.