Forever Mine, Valentine Read online

  About the Author

  Ever since she learned about the birds and the bees, Vicki Lewis Thompson has considered the subject hilarious. She’s promoted that worldview through more than eighty books, both series and single title. Vicki became a New York Times bestseller when her book Nerd in Shining Armor caught the fancy of Kelly Ripa, who promoted it through her Reading with Ripa book club in 2003. This “overnight success” follows a twenty-year career that includes many series books, eight finalist nominations for Romance Writers of America’s RITA® Award and numerous awards from RWA chapter contests and Romantic Times BOOKclub. Prior to finding her bliss as a romance writer, Vicki blew through several jobs that ranged from teaching and reporting to raspberry picking and swimming pool maintenance. None of them proved half as interesting as making up funny, sexy stories. She lives in Arizona, where she has a pool, but she no longer cleans it herself.

  VICKI LEWIS

  THOMPSON

  Forever Mine, Valentine

  TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

  AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

  STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID

  PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

  ISBN 978-1-55254-403-7

  FOREVER MINE, VALENTINE

  Copyright © 1990 by Vicki Lewis Thompson.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  ® and TM are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

  www.eHarlequin.com

  Contents

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Epilogue

  Coming Next Month

  1

  JILL STOOD in front of the camping supply store and plotted ways to sell the manager on painting his window for Valentine’s Day. You’ve backpacked your way into my heart. Nope. Warm her heart with a Coleman stove. Ugh. My canteen runneth over with love. Yuck!

  Of all the stores in this mall, Jegger Outfitters promised to be the toughest sell, but she liked challenges. Maybe she’d walk in without a specific window plan, and if the manager sounded the least bit interested, she’d come up with an idea on the spot. Sometimes pressure could be inspirational. That’s how she’d snared the optometrist, with her sudden brainstorm of Give her rose-colored glasses for Valentine’s Day.

  Jegger Outfitters smelled of canvas, crepe soles and pine shelving. Old-fashioned picks and shovels hung on the walls, along with tins for gold panning, old mining claim maps and a ragged banner that vowed Pikes Peak or Bust. In the merchandise on the rustic shelves were several camping items she could have used, but she was here to sell, not buy.

  As she continued down the aisle toward the rear of the store, she overheard an angry voice and a placating one coming from behind a closed door marked Private. Damn. Store managers with problems seldom wanted their windows painted with hearts and flowers.

  Just then a thin young man in a rumpled cotton shirt and parachute pants rounded a counter and came toward her. “Can I help you?” he asked.

  “My name’s Jill Amory. I’d like to see the manager please. I think,” she added as the tirade from behind the door continued, punctuated by an occasional distinct “Dammit, Charlie,” or “She’s crazy.”

  “Uh…” The clerk hesitated and followed the line of her gaze.

  “This seems like a bad time. Perhaps I could—”

  “No,” he said quickly, assessing her with a glance. “I wouldn’t want to make that decision for him.”

  “Thanks, but I could easily come back tomorrow. I’m taking orders for valentine window decorations, and it’s really no trouble for me to come back.” Jill was certain rejection lay behind that office door.

  “No,” the young man said again, continuing to appraise her from behind wire-rimmed glasses. “Stay right there and I’ll tell him you’re here.”

  His blatant perusal didn’t disturb Jill; she was used to being ogled. In tandem with orders for window decorations had come several offers for coffee and/or drinks from the male managers she’d approached. Her polite refusals hadn’t lost her a single order, which delighted her, confirming that in the past seven months she’d learned to deal effectively with predatory men.

  The clerk rapped on the closed door and without waiting for clearance, opened it. “Someone to see you, Spence,” he said.

  “Who is it?” The voice was still gruff with anger.

  “Jill Amory. She wants to decorate the windows for Valentine’s Day.”

  Through the open door Jill heard a bark of laughter. “Has she cleared this with Tippy the Lip?”

  “I didn’t ask.”

  “Well, I don’t think—”

  Jill sighed, knowing what would come next.

  “Wait a minute, Spencer, my boy,” interrupted a second, older-sounding male voice. “Horace, did you say her last name was Amory?”

  “I think that’s what she told me, Charlie,” the clerk said. “You know her?”

  “No, but the name is…nice. Is she, ah, young?”

  “Maybe early twenties.”

  “That’s young,” said the older man, chuckling. “Spencer, couldn’t you at least find out what she has in mind?”

  Jill was grateful for this unknown Charlie who thought she had a nice name and wanted to give her a chance. At that point the clerk lowered his voice and she heard only snatches of his comments. “Foxy-looking brunette,” came through pretty clearly, though.

  “Okay.” The man named Spence sounded weary. “Send her back.”

  The clerk stepped out of the office and motioned to Jill. Clutching her scrapbook of Polaroids showing samples of her work, she walked toward the open door. The clerk gave her a thumbs-up signal and returned to his position behind the cash register as she entered the office.

  Both men stood, and the man behind the sleek oak desk held out his hand. “Ms Amory? I’m Spence Jegger, and this is my sidekick Charlie Hartman. What can I help you with?”

  Jill smiled her way automatically through the introduction, but one look at Spence Jegger told her that he could be trouble. He had a shaving-commercial face—square-cut jaw, strong nose, high forehead. His short brown hair waved just enough to give it shape, and his green turtleneck and jeans revealed an athlete’s physique. Jill hoped that Spence Jegger was unavailable.

  She watched his brown eyes widen in appreciation as he looked at her and she hoped her reaction hadn’t been as obvious as his. She’d traveled through thirty-three states so far and managed to avoid romantic entanglements in every one. With her goal only fifteen sta
tes away, she couldn’t let an attractive man stop her now.

  She turned and shook hands with his friend Charlie, a sweet-looking old guy in a red vest and bow tie. “Please sit down,” Charlie said, indicating one of two chairs in front of Spence’s desk. “We were just discussing what an interesting name you have. ‘Amory’ means loving, of course, and here you are to paint valentine decorations on windows. Quite fitting, I should say.” He beamed at her. “You appear surprised, my dear. Weren’t you aware of your name’s origin?”

  “Um, no, I wasn’t.” Jill sank to the upholstered chair and tried to get her bearings. Discussing the origin of her name was a strange beginning for a sales call. “I decorate windows for every holiday, not just Valentine’s Day,” she said, opening her scrapbook and turning it so that Spence could see. “Here are examples of other windows I’ve done.”

  Spence pulled the scrapbook across the desk and leafed through it. “Good work,” he said.

  “Of course she does good work,” Charlie said, not even glancing at the pages. “I could tell that immediately.”

  Jill stared at him. She hadn’t felt such unconditional acceptance from another human being since she’d left Maine and her beloved G.G. “I appreciate your confidence, Mr. Hartman.”

  “Call me Charlie, my dear. I believe we’re going to be great friends.”

  “Um, that would be nice.” Jill decided not to mention that she’d be leaving Colorado Springs in a week or so. If Charlie helped clinch this sale, she’d be his great friend, briefly.

  Charlie touched her arm and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Spencer’s last name means ‘witness our love.”’ He waggled his eyebrows at her.

  “I heard that, Charlie,” Spence said, still turning the pages of the scrapbook. “Knock it off.”

  “But, my boy, I merely thought…”

  “I know what you thought.” Spence closed the book and passed it back to Jill. “He’s a terrific guy, and a heck of a chess player, but he has this habit of trying to orchestrate my love life.”

  Jill gulped. She’d met some strange ones in the past seven months, but these two took the prize, hands down. “I see.” She managed a weak smile. “Would you—would you care for a window decoration, Mr. Jegger?”

  “Spencer, I recommend that you—”

  “Charlie, now that’s really enough,” Spence said, frowning at the old man. “Valentine’s Day and camping haven’t much to do with each other, Ms Amory,” he said, turning back to her. “Seems to me that painting the windows of the store for this holiday would be a waste of time and money. Now Memorial Day is a different story. If you’ll leave your card, I’ll be glad to contact you at the end of April.”

  “Unfortunately I won’t be here then,” Jill said, wondering if Charlie’s matchmaking efforts had hurt her chances more than they’d helped.

  “Oh. Well, Fourth of July is another good holiday for us, and Labor Day. Winter is the slow season for camping gear,” he added almost apologetically. “I’m sure you understand. But I’d be glad to take your card for future reference.”

  Jill liked him for trying to be nice. “I don’t have a card,” she said. “The truth is, I’m working my way through each of the contiguous forty-eight states by painting holiday window decorations. Once I leave Colorado Springs in a few days, I won’t be back.”

  Beside her, Charlie groaned. “Impossible,” he muttered and covered his face with his hands.

  Spence seemed to ignore his friend’s distress and leaned across the desk. “No kidding? You’re making this trip all by yourself?”

  “Yes.”

  “How long have you been on the road?”

  “Seven months,” Jill replied. From the corner of her eye she noticed that Charlie had come out from behind his hands and was showing interest in the conversation. “I started in Maine, my home state, and Colorado is number thirty-three. I have fifteen to go.”

  “But not Alaska and Hawaii, I take it,” Spence commented.

  Jill shook her head. “My old VW van wouldn’t make it over the Alaskan Highway, and I can’t afford Hawaii.”

  “Is it some sort of charity promotion?” Spence asked.

  Jill had a feeling that if she said yes, she’d get the valentine window order, but she couldn’t lie to make a sale. “No, it’s a personal thing. I promised myself I’d do this and finish the trip before my twenty-fifth birthday.”

  “Which is?”

  “June twelfth,” Jill replied.

  “My goodness,” Charlie said, straightening. “You have plenty of time remaining. Why not stay on here a bit longer? Colorado Springs is a beautiful city, and you can’t begin to see it all in a few days, can she, Spencer?”

  Jill picked up her scrapbook and stood. Enough was enough. “Thank you both for your time,” she said, “but I must stay on schedule. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have more sales calls to make before I begin painting tomorrow.” Ignoring Charlie’s frantic signals to Spence, she turned to leave.

  “Ms Amory,” Spence called when she was halfway to the door.

  “Yes?” She pivoted.

  Although Charlie sat upright, his gaze intent on her, Spence leaned back in his chair with easy nonchalance. “Just for curiosity’s sake, how would you tie Valentine’s Day in with what I have to sell?” he asked.

  She hesitated. Why not tell him she had no idea and leave? End of story. End of danger. To her dismay, an answer popped out. “How about a bright red sleeping bag for two?”

  His eyebrows rose and he looked amused. “I’ll admit I hadn’t thought of that.”

  Jill wished fervently that she hadn’t, either. The devil had taken her tongue. Charlie watched them silently, following the conversation like a spectator at a tennis match.

  “And how would you depict a double sleeping bag on the window?” he asked. “This is a G-rated store. Little kids come in here all the time.”

  “Forget the sleeping bag. It was a terrible idea,” she said, her cheeks turning valentine red. Charlie was smiling. “Socks,” she blurted. “Thermal socks would be a loving gesture. Maybe with a slogan like Warm her from heart to toe on Valentine’s Day.”

  “Catchy.” Spence’s brown eyes twinkled. “How much would you charge for this window painting of hearts and toes?”

  “Thirty dollars,” Jill said quickly, “for both windows. And I’ll dream up more than the socks idea. Maybe long underwear, in red…”

  “Watch it. You’re straying into R-rated territory again,” Spence said with a smile. “I swear I never considered camping gear sexy, but you’re changing my mind.”

  “Let’s forget the whole thing,” Jill said. “You were right the first time. Valentine’s Day and camping gear don’t mix.”

  “No, no.” Spence protested. “I’m getting into this. It’s a terrific idea. I can hardly wait. When will you start?”

  She’d done it now. “Well, I’ve sold window decorations to twenty-one stores on the top floor, and doing those will take me a couple of days, at least. I’ve been telling people on the lower level to plan for about three days’ wait.”

  “Too bad.”

  “I can see the delay bothers you,” she said with relief. “But I can’t work any faster, so perhaps we should just cancel the order.”

  “No way. I’ll wait. A schedule’s a schedule. Right, Charlie?”

  Charlie’s grin was so wide that it barely fitted on his face. “Right, my boy.”

  “So I’ll see you in three days.” Spence held out his hand. “Thanks for dropping by.”

  She automatically took his hand. “You’re welcome. See you in three days.”

  “Goodbye, my dear,” Charlie said. “And you can expect to see me sooner than three days. I’m likely to materialize anywhere in the mall. I’m certain we’ll run into each other, and I’d like to become better acquainted.”

  “It’s a nice thought, Charlie.” She shook his hand, too. “But I really will be leaving town in a week.”

  �
��Ah, yes, well…”

  Jill knew from the conspiratorial gleam in his eyes that he didn’t believe a word of it. But she would leave. G.G. was counting on her to send postcards from every state capital, and Aaron was counting on her to come home on time. But most of all, Jill would finish the trip for herself. Nobody, not even a kind old gentleman like Charlie Hartman, would stop her.

  THE NEXT MORNING Jill parked her van in the vast Remembrance Mall parking lot. The first time she’d seen it, the mall had reminded her more of a theme park than a shopping center. In all her travels and with all her window painting, she’d never worked in anything quite like this two-tiered structure. She’d spent her first day there just exploring the place.

  Victorian gingerbread in gay pastels covered everything, both inside and out, echoing the fashion of Colorado’s gold rush days. Inside the mall, shoppers strolled down an eighteen-nineties avenue, complete with globe streetlamps and striped awnings over the storefronts.

  In a center courtyard on the bottom floor nestled a skating rink designed to look like a backwoods pond surrounded with fallen logs for sitting and miniature gas-fueled campfires for warming cold hands and feet. Jill had expected to see women in long skirts and muffs twirling on the ice, but instead teenagers in jeans and leg-warmers reminded her that this was indeed the twentieth century.

  A scaled-down trolley system ran the length of the bottom floor. The conductor, complete with handlebar mustache, gave seats to the elderly and the handicapped before allowing children or able-bodied adults to ride. On the top floor, instead of a trolley, motorized buggies provided transportation for the handicapped.

  A large retail space on that floor housed a museum where people wandered free of charge among artifacts from the late nineteenth century. Nearby, a melodrama theater supported by amateur theatrical groups took their revenue from what the audience dropped into a bowler hat after each performance. Jill was thoroughly charmed with the Remembrance Mall and would have enjoyed the days she spent there no matter what her task.