Forever Mine, Valentine Read online

  He passed the curtained entrance to the melodrama theater, where the first performance of the morning had begun. Over the mall’s piped-in piano music he heard hisses and boos directed at the villain. If the audience only knew, he thought, they’d be hissing and booing in Tippy’s office instead. She intended to adopt a “profit-oriented” approach to running the melodrama, and Spence wondered how much longer the show would go on.

  He continued down the mall and spotted Jill crouched in front of the lingerie store window, as Charlie had suggested she might be. One correct prediction for Charlie’s scorecard, Spence thought, but that was the end of it. St. Valentine’s Day or not, Spence wasn’t in the market for a wife. He’d welcome someone to laugh and talk with, perhaps, but not someone who’d share a set of monogrammed towels.

  In picking out Jill, though, Charlie had shown good taste. Spence admired the dark curls that fell to her shoulders and the lean curve outlined by the seat of her acid-washed jeans. She wore a matching vest today over a bright red blouse the same shade as the paint she applied carefully to the window.

  She looked fit, and he always found that sexy. She’d be able to hike into the backwoods and still have energy left over. Spence smiled as he remembered their interview yesterday. Energy left to make love in a double sleeping bag, perhaps.

  Of course, the backwoods wasn’t exactly inviting in the dead of winter. Jill would have to stay in town until spring for the opportunity to fulfill that particular fantasy. Spence doubted that would happen, considering her apparent determination to finish her trip by June.

  By blending in with the crowd of shoppers, Spence was able to approach Jill without her noticing him. He stood about ten feet behind her and watched her work. The creative process intrigued him because he’d never considered himself creative.

  Using sure strokes of her brush, Jill dressed a saucy blonde in an ankle-length robe of lace. Spence vaguely remembered the term peignoir from his honeymoon with Gretchen. The lace was interspersed with red hearts that conveniently covered everything that would incite the vice squad, but hints of skin color and the suggested outline of a curvaceous body indicated to Spence, at least, that the painted lady was supposed to be naked under the lace.

  He swallowed. As if Jill’s window decoration weren’t suggestive enough, the garments displayed in the showcase unerringly pointed his thoughts in the direction of lust. Filmy things in red and white adorned the mannequins, who all gazed at him with sloe-eyed absorption. He suddenly realized that he’d walked past these windows dozens of times—his favorite cookie shop was two doors away—and never before felt the sensual tug of the merchandise. He had to get a grip on himself.

  This was business. He was here to ask Jill if she’d like a job. “Do they sell something like that?” he blurted out, walking up beside her and pointing to the painted lace robe. Great, he thought. I’m sticking to business, all right.

  She glanced up, startled. “Oh…hi, Mr. Jegger.”

  “Hi, Ms Amory,” he said, smiling inwardly at the formality, considering Charlie’s plans for them. “Nice work.”

  “Thanks.” She stared at him, her brush poised in midair.

  “Don’t drip,” he cautioned her as red paint oozed to the tip of the bristles.

  She looked at her brush and wiped it against the lip of the paint jar she held in her other hand. “Thanks again.”

  “Don’t let me interrupt,” he said when she continued to stand motionless, gazing at him. “The outfit you created with your paint brush is very…uh…nice, and I just wondered if you made it up or if they sell something like that here.”

  Her glance cooled. “They have these in the shop, if you’re interested. They’re a special-order item for Valentine’s Day, and they asked me to feature them. If you buy one, would you mention that the window art sold you? I like my customers to feel they got their money’s worth.”

  “I’ll mention it.” He realized that it must sound to her as if he had a girlfriend in mind, when in fact he’d considered buying the garment for Jill. The idea was incredible, of course. He hardly knew her well enough to buy her dinner, let alone a negligee.

  The blonde she’d painted on the window looked okay in lace, but Jill’s dark hair would be spectacular against the delicate white pattern. He wondered what she’d think if he handed her a box with the robe inside. Once she opened the box she’d probably hand it right back, if she didn’t bash him over the head with it first.

  “You’re doing a great job,” he said, sounding like a broken record. “Just keep going. Don’t mind me.”

  “Okay.” She dipped the brush in the paint and outlined a heart positioned strategically over one breast. Her hand seemed less steady than before he’d spoken to her, but maybe he was imagining things. “Did you want something in particular?” she asked as she continued to work.

  My wants are becoming more particular every moment I’m around you, he thought. “Well, yes, as a matter of fact. Charlie mentioned that you’ve had some experience with a shopping mall where the tenants organized against the management.”

  She stopped painting and gave him a wary look. “Charlie doesn’t waste much time, does he?”

  “No.”

  “Oh, well. I guess it doesn’t matter. I was planning to talk to you about that, anyway. I think it would be a shame for the trolley and motorized carts to become a pay-as-you-go proposition, but you can’t expect to fix the problem by yourself. If I were you I’d call a meeting of the other tenants and—”

  “Would you help me?” Spence asked, suddenly afraid she’d give him the sum of her advice in a few minutes and drop the matter. “I’ll admit my single-handed steamroller approach hasn’t worked, but that’s the way I operate. I need someone with inventive ideas, and if I could persuade you to stay a little longer than a week, I’d be glad to pay you some sort of retainer.”

  She didn’t respond right away. “Who is Charlie Hartman, exactly?” she asked at last.

  He looked into those green eyes of hers and realized that Charlie was definitely right—it would be a crime if Jill left Colorado Springs in a week. “Charlie’s a friend of mine who currently lives in the back of my store.”

  “Is that legal?”

  Spence shrugged. “I don’t care if it isn’t. If Jegger Outfitters were still the only store on this spot, the way it was before Remembrance Mall went up, Charlie’s presence would be fine. I’m not going to worry about whether the mall management would want me to offer him a place to stay. I figure the former owners of the land have some rights.”

  Jill set her jar of paint on the floor and laid the brush across it. “And he’s not related to you or anything?” she asked, scratching the tip of her nose.

  “Nope. I just like him. He’s seems to be—I don’t know—someone out of the past or something.”

  “What about all this matchmaking stuff?”

  Spence grinned. “Charlie’s old-fashioned in that way, too. He doesn’t think a man of my age should be single. He thinks I need a sweetheart.”

  “Do you?” She glanced at the robe painted on the window. “Or are you keeping secrets from dear old Charlie?”

  “I… There’s no one special,” he said, caught without a reasonable explanation for his interest in the robe. “I thought perhaps my mother might—”

  She began to laugh. “You won’t get away with that one! You can tell me, and I won’t even blab to your friend Charlie. Who’s the lucky girl?”

  “Never mind that,” he said impatiently, unwilling to admit the truth and have her laugh even harder. Or maybe she’d be insulted; the robe was pretty sheer. “Let’s get back to the mall problem. The thing is, I really do need a temporary adviser, and you seem perfect for the job, if you’re at all interested.”

  Jill folded her arms and sighed. “Well, much as I’d like to stay and help, I can’t.”

  “Why not?” He’d thought he had her, and now she was backing away.

  “I can’t risk missing my deadline.
I left some unfinished business in Maine.”

  From her tone of voice, he suspected a lover waited for her there. But if that were so, why had she left this guy for a year while she wandered around by herself? He decided to push harder. “I wouldn’t keep you here long, I promise.”

  “With me, any deviation from the plan is dangerous,” she said with a wry smile. “I have a reputation for being easily distracted. I’ve hopped from one thing to another so often that my nickname is Jill of All Trades.”

  “Does your boyfriend call you that?”

  She looked startled. “He’s not exactly…that is, I… Well, anyway…yes, Aaron calls me that.”

  Damn, there was someone. But she obviously wasn’t sure about her commitment, so maybe Aaron didn’t matter. “You’re out to prove you can stick to one thing, painting windows?”

  “It’s not the windows, it’s the trip that’s important.” She gestured toward the decorated glass. “This won’t be my career, if that’s what you mean. But Lord knows what will be. I’ve tried secretarial school, plumbing, appliance sales, small-engine repair—I even considered becoming a concert pianist once. In my one year of college I had four majors, art among them. That’s where I picked up the skills to paint windows.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with exploring the job market before you settle down to something,” Spence said. He’d been right about her spirit of adventure, he thought. Plumbing? Small-engine repair?

  “I agree, but this is ridiculous. I wasn’t getting anywhere staying put in Maine, so I decided to see the country and give myself a goal and a deadline. I’ve never finished anything in my life, unless you count high school. Before I left, I sublet my apartment in Bangor, and I was forced to clean out the evidence of all my abandoned projects—half-knit sweaters, part of a macramé hanger, a partially installed whirlpool tub—you get the idea.”

  Spence nodded. “I guess so.” He wondered how far along her relationship with this guy Aaron had progressed. Were they partially in love? Was that condition possible?

  “I’m petrified of getting off track and not completing this trip on time. I have to prove to myself that I can do it. You might not understand. You look like a man who’s always known what he wanted.”

  “I don’t know where you got that idea.” Spence gazed at her and realized his wants were changing by the second.

  “You’re working in your family business, and it obviously suits you. As for me, I don’t know where I fit.”

  Perhaps with me, came the silent reply, but Spence pushed it away. “How do you know Colorado Springs isn’t the place to find an answer?” he said, choosing a more oblique response.

  She gave him a long considering glance. “It might be, but I still have to stay on schedule and complete this trip. I promised myself.” She smiled fondly. “And someone else.”

  His heart sank. “Aaron?”

  “No, not Aaron. My great-grandmother. G.G. She’s the only one back home who continues to have faith in me. She believes I’ll finish this trip, and she bought a scrapbook to paste postcards in from every state capital. I can’t disappoint an eighty-two-year-old woman with a scrapbook to fill, can I?”

  “But just a few days wouldn’t—”

  “With me, it could. I know myself. I’m sorry. But I’ll be glad to tell you how the North Dakota deal went.” She bent to pick up her paint and brush, as if dismissing him.

  “Wait a minute.” He heard the sharp edge to his words but couldn’t help himself. “You really can’t see taking a few extra days for a good cause? I’m talking about old folks and handicapped people, and preserving some history, and—”

  “I realize all that,” she interrupted, turning back to him. “I’ve been a sucker for good causes all my life, but this time I can’t be.”

  Spence was growing more irritated by the minute. “Isn’t that a tad selfish?” And Charlie thought this person was right for him? Fat chance.

  “Call it what you will,” she said, and resumed her painting.

  “I call it self-absorbed,” he said, and felt some satisfaction when she winced at the criticism. “Well, see you on Friday.”

  “Aren’t you going to buy that lacy thing for your girlfriend before you leave?” she taunted without looking up.

  “No.” He spun on his heel and walked away.

  “Better not wait too long,” she called after him. “Valentine’s Day is just around the corner.”

  He turned back to make some sarcastic retort, but thought better of it. He was acting ridiculous, letting her get to him like this. Maybe he’d actually believed Charlie’s garbage about how wonderful she was, and now he was like a kid disappointed at Christmas by the wrong gift. He slapped his thigh in frustration and headed back for the store.

  Charlie was waiting when he returned. Spence closed the office door and related what had happened while the wrinkles in Charlie’s face sagged into an expression of gloom.

  “This is terrible, my boy,” Charlie said when Spence finished talking. “But she’ll come around. With a name like Amory she can’t be so hardened to the plight of others.”

  “So you say. I say forget Jill Amory.”

  “I can’t have been wrong about her.”

  “No? And what about this boyfriend she has stashed in Maine?”

  “Look at the facts, Spencer, my boy. She left him to travel the country for an entire year. Does that sound like a viable relationship?”

  “At this point, I don’t care.”

  Charlie left his chair to pace the room. “I could check the files on this Aaron situation, of course,” he muttered, “but the filing system isn’t what it should be on these matters, and I usually find that—”

  “What filing system?” Spence leaned forward on his desk and gazed at Charlie in consternation. “Charlie, what on earth…?”

  “Nothing,” Charlie said quickly. “You know old people. They talk to themselves a great deal of the time about inconsequentials.”

  “What was all that about checking files on people?”

  “Files? I must have meant smiles. I base many of my judgments on smiles, don’t you? Jill Amory has a wonderful smile, don’t you agree?”

  “I couldn’t say. She wasn’t using it much when I last saw her.”

  “I can see we have a minor setback here,” Charlie observed. “But I’m sure I can put things to rights. Plan A didn’t work, so I’ll concoct Plan B.”

  “Charlie, forget this, okay?” Spence grew uneasy as he watched the old man stroke his chin and pace the length of his office.

  “I’m still thinking. I wonder if…hmm…aha!”

  “What?”

  “Never mind, Spencer, my boy. Leave everything to me.”

  “No, really, I—”

  “I’ll be back,” Charlie said, heading out the door of Spence’s office. “I have people to see.”

  “Charlie—”

  Charlie poked his head back in the door. “Trust me,” he whispered and left.

  3

  JILL WASN’T SURPRISED when Charlie showed up again later in the morning. She’d nearly finished the shoe store window, which featured one high-heeled sandal facing a man’s black dress oxford. She’d added eyes and mouths to both shoes and was outlining the conversation bubble that came from the red-lipped mouth at the toe of the sandal.

  “My, but you are clever,” Charlie remarked, sticking his thumb in his vest while he gazed at the window. “Anthropomorphic footwear.”

  Jill sorted through her vocabulary. “Making something human that’s not, right?”

  “Exactly. Now perhaps I can guess the slogan you’ll use. Is it I’ll love you heart and sole, Valentine?”

  “That’s close.” Jill chuckled. “I thought maybe I’d use Let’s be solemates, Valentine.”

  “I like that better,” Charlie said.

  “Oh, why?”

  “Because it’s a briefer message,” he said in that cultured accent Jill couldn’t identify. “When you finish this
window, may I suggest a lunch break?”

  Jill smiled and began her lettering inside the bubble. The old guy was so transparent—he wanted to spend the lunch hour convincing her to take Spence’s offer. And unfortunately for her determination to finish the trip, she was already weakening. Spence’s comments about selfishly pursuing her own goals had struck a nerve. “How do you know I haven’t eaten lunch?” she asked, giving an extra flourish to the first s in solemates.

  “I’ve been checking on you between errands.”

  She had to admire his dedication. “Charlie, it’s no good. I’d like to stay and help the cause, but I can’t afford the risk to my plan.” She sounded selfish even to herself now, but she plunged on. “When I finish painting all the windows I’ve contracted for in this mall, I’ll hit the road for Salt Lake City.” She finished the lettering and swirled her brush in a jar of water. “I want to get through Utah and on to California in plenty of time to paint Easter windows there.”

  “I see.” Charlie took out his handkerchief and polished his gold figure-eight pin. “Well, all that aside, I would be so very honored if you’d join me at one of the fast-food eateries downstairs.”

  “You won’t be able to change my mind, Charlie,” Jill warned, although she was no longer sure that was true.

  “I understand perfectly,” he replied, folding his handkerchief neatly and returning it to his pocket.

  “And we’re going Dutch,” Jill added. From the worn places on Charlie’s clothes, she’d deduced that he didn’t have much spare cash.

  “Dutch? I don’t believe they have any fast-food restaurants featuring dishes from Holland. I thought perhaps we’d try the place that serves hot dogs on a stick. I believe they’re called corn dogs, but that doesn’t sound Dutch to me.”

  “You don’t know what going Dutch means?”

  Charlie frowned in confusion. “Judging from your question, apparently not.”