Don’t Call Me Sweetheart Read online

  “Maybe so,” the large, matronly woman replied with a wink as she turned to leave. “But it’s when you’re not looking that love reaches out and catches you like a rabbit in a snare. You’ll have to run very fast to stay ahead of it.”

  “Oh my lord, look at the time,” Whitney gasped. She glanced at her watch in panic, knowing she had wasted more time than she should have reminiscing. With a sigh of relief she noted there was just enough time to make the drive from the restored Victorian home she supposedly shared with Lane McLaughlin in the suburbs to the country club where Tess and Lane belonged. But first she needed her newest novel. She pulled the door closed behind her and crossed the hall to the comfortable room she had converted into a writer’s sanctuary, her private haven from the outside world.

  There on the desk, next to the computer just as she had left it, was her finished manuscript. Well, it wasn’t exactly as she had left it, Whitney observed with a wry half-smile. Her ever present companion lay curled comfortably on the neatly stacked pages, completely oblivious to the fact that great care had been taken to leave them that way.

  “Move it, Gabbycat. That’s our grocery money for the next year you’re sitting on,” Whitney admonished as she shooed the reluctant feline out of the way and carefully rebound the manuscript. Reaching beneath the desk she retrieved her briefcase and tucked the pages safely inside while the cat watched through the slits of her nearly closed eyes.

  As accustomed as she was to donning the persona of Lane McLaughlin’s aide, Whitney felt as ready as she ever would to meet Tess and their guest. She paused to rub the big tom’s velvety ears, then hurried outside and stepped into her elegant bronze luxury sedan, tossing the leather briefcase onto the seat next to her along with her purse. As she maneuvered the car down the tree-lined drive and into traffic she thought it seemed odd that for all her earlier trepidation at meeting a strange man for lunch, she now felt a certain uncharacteristic anticipation. Common sense told her that whoever he was, he certainly wasn’t in New York to meet her, or Lane McLaughlin for that matter.

  The butterflies in her stomach didn’t care about common sense.

  Something about today was different. Special. And for the first time in months Whitney decided to let down her guard and allow herself to believe that fate might be ready to smile her direction for a change when it came to her emotional well-being. She wasn’t sure how or why but she had the unmistakable feeling that after today her life would never be the same. Recklessly she pressed down on the gas and both the car and her heart jumped as she rushed impulsively toward her destination.

  Chapter Three

  Brilliant midday sunlight bathed the late June day with a sweet, golden warmth, reminding the city’s inhabitants that the sweltering heat of summer was close at hand. Whitney took a deep breath of the heavy, floral scented air as she pulled to a stop before the front door of the ostentatious country club. No sooner had she done so than a uniformed teenager rushed forward, eagerly extending his hand to assist her. She smiled in recognition.

  “Thank you, Todd,” Whitney said, slipping a folded bill into his hand when he reached for her keys.

  “Hey, you’re more than welcome, Miss Lane,” the young man replied with an appreciative grin as he pocketed the money and bent to squeeze his lanky form behind the steering wheel. His eyes dancing with mischief he put the car in gear and spun away from the curb, sending small pebbles spraying onto the street.

  Smiling over her favorite valet’s efforts to impress her Whitney turned to enter the building and called a cheerful greeting to the doorman before making her way down a long mirrored hallway to the dining room.

  “Hello, Charles,” she said, approaching the maitre d’. “I’ve been given orders to join Tess today for lunch, that is if she remembered to actually make our reservation this time.”

  Amusement tugged at the corners of the stoic gentleman’s mouth as he glanced through the register for Whitney’s table, which gave her time to scan the pristine room. She was hoping for a glimpse of Tess’ mystery man before introductions were made. She noted the familiar round tables carefully arranged around a center garden dominated by a sparkling fountain. Lush green foliage trailed from the fountain and was also placed strategically to separate the tables, effectively parceling the room into private alcoves where the patrons could carry on their conversations. Each table played host to a snowy linen tablecloth, beautiful china place settings laid with glistening golden flatware and elegant stemware whose facets reflected light in hundreds of directions. Together the gorgeous accessories screamed refinement and as usual Whitney felt conspicuously out of place. She preferred old quaint over regal any day.

  “Right this way, Miss Lane,” Charles instructed, interrupting her thoughts as he swept his arm in the very direction she had been regarding. They skirted the fountain and made their way deeper into the room.

  Approaching the only occupied table in the area, Whitney wondered if Charles had made a mistake. From her vantage point she could see the broad back of a very large man, apparently engaged in an animated conversation with his dining partner. His wide shoulders blocked her line of vision but as they drew nearer she recognized Tess’ unmistakable laughter rippling through the air.

  That’s good, she thought grimly. At least one of them would walk away from lunch today and say they had enjoyed themselves.

  “Whitney!” Tess looked up and caught sight of her approaching friend. Turning to her companion she announced, “Christian, I would like you to meet my best friend—well yes, I’m afraid I had to replace you since you nevercall anymore. This is Whitney Lane, Lane McLaughlin’s executive assistant. Whitney, meet Christian Dade, a very dear friend of mine.”

  As the man stood to make her acquaintance Whitney’s eyes were drawn up, far up, encountering a face she had seen before, though only in her dreams. She stared helplessly, as if frozen in time. The sable eyes and midnight hair were intimately familiar to her. They should be. Night after night their owner, or rather his mirror image, had come to her, inspiring the stories which flowed so passionately from her heart.

  Blushing, Whitney realized she too was being regarded quite intently. Most likely due to her deplorable lack of manners. Embarrassed to have been caught staring, she gave herself a mental shake and told herself to quit behaving like a hormone-driven teenager. She realized the stranger was patiently waiting to shake her hand, all the while allowing his sparkling devilish eyes to roam up and down her body with a leisurely, appreciative sweep. Normally she remained unaffected such behavior but this time she was clearly shaken by the bold perusal. Gathering her scattered thoughts she told herself she wasn’t going to let the intentions of this man, or any other, ever again take precedence over her own. It was a very good plan, at least until she laid her hand in his.

  “I’m pleased to meet…”

  Whitney stretched out her hand to his and nearly cried out loud at the current of electricity that passed between them during the brief contact. The touch of his long fingers wrapped momentarily around her own sent a surge of pure, sexual awareness coursing through her entire body, igniting every dormant nerve she possessed and leaving her struggling to outwardly maintain her composure. Flustered and embarrassed Whitney stared up into the blackest eyes she had ever encountered, noticing that Christian hadn’t escaped the effects of their contact either, assuming one could judge such things by the rapidly beating pulse visible above his collar. Clearly neither of them had expected a reaction so intense, which unfortunately for Whitney was a fact not overlooked by the third member of their party.

  “Oh, my. One could almost assume that you two already knew each other. Whitney, have you been keeping secrets from me?” Tess observed with obvious amusement. She could be positively wicked at times.

  Whitney’s face flamed as she dropped into the chair Charles patiently held for her. She had no idea what she should say, where she should look, or if she should even stay at this point. Tess reached out a hand and patted her ar
m comfortingly in a fine display of sympathy for her brief lapse in etiquette. “I’m sorry love. I was pretty sure the two of you would hit it off but frankly even I’m surprised by what I think I just saw.”

  Whitney turned imploring eyes toward her friend but Tess had abruptly pivoted back to Christian. She gave him one of her most devastating smiles and reprimanded him playfully, “And you! You haven’t changed one bit have you? There must be at least one female on this cursed planet who’s immune to your charms?”

  “So far darlin’, you’re the only one,” Christian bantered brazenly. “Care to let me brag about a perfect record?”

  His voice was deep and earthy and so amazingly sensuous Whitney felt an unfamiliar trembling in the deepest reaches of her body. She took a chance and glanced in his direction. There was something utterly compelling about the deep-set dark eyes and that firm mouth—that exciting, bedroom mouth that promised things Whitney knew she had no right to think about. The chiseled angles and planes of his face branded him a man who knew his own mind and a good bit of those surrounding him as well. He exuded confidence and the look in his eyes shattered what little Whitney had left of hers. She was left breathless with anticipation. But at the same time too terrified to think of the possibilities her physical side was pondering. Despite her vow to remain unaffected by men in general, it seemed her body had taken complete control over her actions on this one and she was in for some serious trouble if she couldn’t pull herself together—fast.

  “I’ve always been out of your league, Christian,” Tess quipped, pretending not to notice the conflicting emotions playing across her friend’s features. “Don’t you forget it either.”

  Always. Now what was Tess talking about? There had never been any mention between the two of them about this handsome hunk from her past. Whitney had never even seen a man like Christian before. He easily outshone each and every one of her fictional heroes, hands down, and they were created to be perfection.

  “Of course those guys were so perfect, just look what they were based on!”

  As if they had a mind of their own Whitney’s eyes returned to trace the muscles of Christian’s broad shoulders where they strained against the fabric of a navy polo shirt and she mentally pictured running her hands slowly across his powerful chest, discovering just where the swatch of dark hair visible at the opening of the neck eventually ended.

  God, what’s wrong with me? Whitney wondered hysterically. She had never reacted to anyone like this in her life, not even Jon. She snapped her eyes shut to block out the arousing images springing unbidden to her conscious mind but it only made matters worse. In the dark she saw more than she had before.

  Training her eyes on the napkin in her lap Whitney tried to sift through the fierce reactions Christian was invoking within her. Mortified barely began to describe the way she felt. For pity’s sake, she was mentally undressing a man she didn’t even know as he sat across from her in a public restaurant. What was the matter with her?

  “Actually Tess, if I remember correctly you always said I was in a league of my own,” Christian purred in answer to the pretty blonde on his left. “Just like you are.”

  Despite her attempts not to, Whitney devoured each delicious word the man across the table uttered, which meant she missed the assessing glance Tess sent her direction.

  “I suppose we are two of a kind after all,” Tess conceded, then deftly changed the subject. It was time to put her plan into motion. “Well Whitney, what do you think?”

  “About what?” Whitney asked ominously, her voice sounding embarrassingly breathless.

  “Our new cover model of course.” Tess placed a slim hand against Christian’s angular cheek and patted it affectionately. “This is a face that could sell a million copies of that new McLaughlin novel you’re holding, don’t you agree?”

  Whitney was thinking that with his face, this particular man could sell her anything from funeral plots to thong bikinis, neither of which she had any use for. No wait, that wasn’t entirely true. If she could drop dead at will the funeral plot would definitely come in handy.

  “I’m not really the person you should be asking,” Whitney stammered, wishing that a hole would miraculously open under the table and swallow her. “You know Lane and I try not to get involved in your end of the business, Tess.”

  “Oh, I know but I was just wondering.” Tess was definitely up to something. “If you saw this rock-hard body draped across some pretty young thing on the cover of our steamy new romance, you’d buy it, wouldn’t you?”

  “Tess! It’s not fair to ask a question like that with Mr. Dade sitting right here!” Whitney exclaimed, trying to dodge a question that was clearly a trap. She was still trying to assimilate Tess’ astonishing announcement that Christian was going to portray Jayce Colter, the hero from her book and what an absolutely perfect choice he was.

  “Oh Christian doesn’t mind. In fact, I’d be willing to bet he’s extremely interested in knowing how attractive you find him.” Tess paused for effect, glancing at Christian’s amused features and Whitney’s outraged expression. “That is, regarding his appeal as a cover model, of course.”

  There would most assuredly be a score to settle with Tess when this was all said and done, Whitney thought emphatically. For some twisted reason, the woman who was closer to her than a sister could have ever been seemed determined to fling her initial regrettable reaction to meeting Christian Dade back in her face.

  Whitney looked up just in time to meet Christian’s dark, narrow gaze resting on her, subtly searching her face. For what, she didn’t know but her glittering green eyes reflected questions of their own. Blessedly their waiter appeared with menus, giving Whitney something to concentrate on other than Christian and thankfully she was allowed to let Tess’ question go unanswered. She wondered how she could possibly eat with her stomach knotted like a giant pretzel.

  “Do you see anything you like…on the menu, that is?” This time Whitney followed her instincts and kicked Tess under the table. She suppressed a giggle as she watched the ensuing wince waver beneath her friend’s smile.

  “Actually, I had a late breakfast with Miss McLaughlin. By the way, she asked me to send her regards since she won’t be able to join us today,” Whitney said, hoping her voice didn’t sound as shaky to the others as it did to her.

  Christian leaned back, making a pretext of studying the elegant green and gold menu in his hands.

  “That’s too bad. I had hoped to meet the elusive Lane McLaughlin today.” He glanced up and his piercing eyes now bored into Whitney’s, making her wonder if he could see all the secrets she worked so hard to hide from the outside world. “Odd, to find two Lanes working so closely together. Lane McLaughlin and Whitney Lane. Doesn’t that cause a lot of confusion?”

  Oh lord, now she had to actually talk to him. What was it she usually said when asked this question? She searched her memory, but couldn’t concentrate. Not with those eyes imprisoning her common sense and ability to think coherently.

  “Not really,” she finally managed to reply hesitantly, refusing to even look at Christian. So much for clever.

  Tess saved her from further humiliating herself. “That’s too bad about Lane,” she commented, silently reminding herself that she was putting Whitney through this charade for her own good. “It would have been interesting to see what the Madonna of Romance thought of our answer to the bedroom blahs.”

  Christian threw back his head and laughed at Tess’ interesting description of his prowess but Whitney wasn’t nearly as amused at the manner in which her other personality was being described.

  “Do I need to audition to prove myself, or do you think she’ll take your word on it?”

  Whitney knew her face was flushed again and it was suddenly extremely hot in their end of the room. Tess couldn’t resist the bait. “Actually, you are her type you know,” she joked in a tone of voice that left Whitney with a bad feeling about where the conversation was headed next. The nau
ghty glint in Tess’ wide blue eyes screamed trouble as she leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially to Christian. “She told me that secretly she prefers big, brawny, baaad boys in her bedroom.”

  Whitney gasped, unable to believe that even Tess would be so bold but Christian seemed highly amused.

  “Think you’re up for it, big fella?”

  “Depends. Does she cater to these preferences often?” Christian asked, his full lips stretched into a lecherous grin.

  “Constantly, all in the name of research of course.”

  Whitney, clearly beside herself with shock, was ready to throttle Tess. If she didn’t know better she could have sworn her friend was possessed.

  Her outraged expression must have registered with both Tess and Christian at the same time. They broke into simultaneous laughter, leaving Whitney to wonder what was so amusing.

  “You’ll have to forgive us, Whitney.” Tess was laughing so hard she had difficulty speaking clearly. “We’d go on like this for hours back in college. I guess we didn’t stop to think how it might have sounded to you, love.”

  Whitney eyed her skeptically, drumming her fingers in agitation on the table. “Don’t you dare let him believe those awful things about Lane, Tess,” she protested vehemently. “You know she’s not at all like that.”

  “You’re right, of course,” Tess said in a conciliatory tone of voice, tricking Whitney into relaxing much too soon. “She would never accept anyone’s word for your experience,” she continued, grinning from ear to ear at Christian. “She’ll definitely demand that audition. Best eat hearty, man.”

  The wolfish smile on Christian’s face did nothing to pacify Whitney’s outrage. It was clear that neither of them was going to take the reputation of her alter ego seriously. Tess seemed satisfied to let the man think the worst about her…er Lane McLaughlin. Whoever!

  One look at Whitney’s furious expression prompted Tess to apologize a second time. In a fashion.