Wife For A Week Part 11

"Did my sweet Hank miss his little Sheila?" Sheila's baby voice oozed over the line.

"Actually Sheila, I'd like you to be one of the first to know. The most wonderful, crazy, exciting thing happened to me over the past week." Hank kept his gaze fixed on Angela. "I fell head over heels in love with a wonderful woman this past week." Angela's eyes widened in horror at the same moment Sheila slammed down her end of the phone. "h.e.l.lo? h.e.l.lo?" Hank dropped the phone back in its cradle. "Hmm, guess she didn't want to talk about it."

Angela grabbed up the phone and held it out to him. "Call her back," she said wildly. "I can't believe you just did that. Call her back and tell her it was a big joke."

Hank took the receiver from her and put it in place again. "I won't do that. It's not a joke." He looked at her for a long moment, wanting to say more, but remembering his earlier promise. Without saying another word, he turned and went back into his office.

He walked over to his window and stared outside unseeing. His mind filled with the words Sheila had flung at him the last time they had been together.

She'd warned him that one of these days he would give his heart to a woman and Sheila hoped that woman took it and smashed it into tiny pieces, or something to that effect.

Had Sheila jinxed him? Had she prophesied the doom of his love for Angela? He shoved his hands into his pockets, wondering if Angela would prove to be the one woman in the world he wanted, needed, and the last woman in the world who would love him back.

He closed his eyes, remembering the sweet taste of her kisses, the musical ring of her laughter. What would it take to convince her that his love was real, and not some machination to keep her working for him?

When a woman had seen you lie your pants off, how did you make her realize when you were telling the truth? Unfortunately, he didn't have the answer.

"Mr. Riverton?" Angela's voice came across the intercom. "Jess Maxwell is here to see you."

Jess Maxwell. A potential new client. Hank pulled his hands from his pockets and b.u.t.toned his jacket He returned to his desk and hit his intercom b.u.t.ton. "Send him right in. And Angela, set me up for tomorrow with some interviews for the position of secretary."

He smiled in satisfaction. Maybe the way to make her understand that he didn't care about having her in his life as his secretary was to hire a new secretary, then she couldn't accuse him of using his love to keep her working for him.

His office door opened and a well-dressed young man stepped in. "Mr. Maxwell, nice to see you," he said as he gripped the man's hand in a firm shake.

For the next two hours, Hank and Jess Maxwell conducted business, culminating in Hank gaining the Maxwell account. At the conclusion of their business, Hank walked Jess out, then slapped a folder down on Angela's desk.

"What's that?" she asked warily.

"The details of the Maxwell Skywriter business. I just got the account and Jess Maxwell has a lot of money to burn and a desire to pull out all the stops on an ad campaign."

"So what do you want me to do with this?" She gestured to the folder.

"Take it home and work up some ideas. You said you wanted to be more involved in the creative process of the business...here's your chance."

She frowned and fingered the edge of the manila folder. "This isn't going to change anything, Hank." She stared down, refusing to meet his gaze. "I've made up my mind, I'm leaving and nothing you do is going to change that fact."

Hank frowned, again a desperation clawing at his stomach, shooting through his veins. Was she so unaffected by their shared week? Had she not felt the magic when they touched, as they kissed? Could she be so immune to how right it had been when they'd shared their memories and thoughts, their past sadness, their future dreams?

He'd made her a promise. He wouldn't again tell her that he loved her. But he hadn't promised that he wouldn't touch her.

He reached out and tipped her chin, forcing her to look at him. And for a fleeting moment, he saw something in her eyes that gave him hope, a s.h.i.+mmering of emotion that she quickly hid by jerking away from him and standing.

"I'm going home." She picked up the folder and her purse. "I'll work up some ideas for the Maxwell account this evening and bring them in tomorrow morning." Again her gaze refused to meet his. "I've also set up three interviews with potential secretaries first thing in the morning." She moved out from her desk and stepped toward the door. "I'll see you in the morning," she said.

Hank nodded. "Angela." He stopped her as she grabbed the doork.n.o.b to leave. She turned back to face him. "I'm not giving up." His voice was soft, but rang with determination.

Her cheeks flamed red and she disappeared out the door. Hank stared after her, his mind racing with options. There had to be some way to convince her his love was true...right. Loving Angela was the first right thing he'd done in a very long time.

The roses had been stupid. She'd ordered so many roses for so many other women, he should have known that the sweet-smelling blossoms wouldn't accomplish anything where her heart was concerned. She was an extraordinary woman, and he needed something inspired to win her heart.

All night he thought of ways to convince Angela he loved her. If he truly believed she felt nothing for him, cared nothing for him, he'd leave her alone. His heart would ache, and he had a feeling Angela was the woman he would never, ever get over. But if she wanted him to, he'd walk away from her and hope eventually she found the man of her dreams.

But he didn't believe she was uncaring or unresponsive to him. She'd been a willing partic.i.p.ant in kissing him, in almost making love with him. It had only been her fear and inexperience that had made her call a halt to his caresses.

Yes, he believed he had a tiny piece of her heart. All he had to figure out was how to make her heart completely his.

Chapter Ten.

The phone rang just after seven the next morning. Angela jumped up from the table where she'd been having coffee, and quickly picked up, hoping the jangling noise hadn't awakened her mother or her brother.

"Good morning." Hank's deep voice washed over her like a blanket of warmth. She steeled herself against the compelling emotion just the sound of his voice evoked in her.

"What can I do for you?" she asked, keeping her own voice cool and crisp with a slight edge of irritation.

"It's a beautiful morning. The sky is so bright and blue... a perfect background for a message of love. I'll see you in the office at nine."

He clicked off, leaving Angela to stare at the receiver in bewilderment What was that all about? She hung up and frowned thoughtfully. A message of love? The beautiful blue sky?

She tied her robe more firmly around her waist, her heart beating wildly as she walked to the front door and stepped out into the morning air.

Hank was right. It was a beautiful morning. The scent of fresh morning dew still hung heavy in the air, although the sun had already climbed well above the horizon and the sky was a picture-perfect background for the plane that zoomed across it, spilling smoke in the shape of letters.

"Oh no," she whispered as the first of the sky letters became apparent. She watched in horror as ANGELA appeared across the sky.

"Angela? Everything all right?"

Angela turned to see her mother staring up at the sky. A moment later the two were joined by Brian. "What's going on?" he asked, then followed their gazes to the sky. "Oh wow, that's so cool."

They watched in silence as the plane finished sending its smoke signal. ANGELA I LOVE YOU, blazed across the sky in letters that appeared a hundred stories high.

Tears burned in Angela's eyes as she stared at Hank's words. Even if this wasn't some sort of ruse to keep her at her job, even if he truly believed himself in love with her, how long could his feelings last? Eventually whatever momentary madness that gripped him would ease and he'd realize he wasn't in love with her.

She couldn't give in. She couldn't allow herself to fall into the fantasy he was trying to create. She wouldn't be able to stand to have Hank and all the happiness his love would bring her, then have it s.n.a.t.c.hed away when reality hit him.

"Gosh Angela, this guy must be crazy about you," Brian exclaimed. He scratched his tousled hair. "Well, I'm going back to bed."

Angela turned to face her mother. Janette eyed her daughter with speculation. "Do you need to talk?"

The tears that Angela felt she'd been holding in for a lifetime released themselves. For a moment Angela couldn't speak, her utter heartbreak clogging her throat, making speech impossible.

Her mother gently took her arm and led her through the house and into the kitchen. She pointed to a chair at the table. "Sit," she said, then grabbed several paper towels and handed them to Angela. She sat down in the chair next to her daughter. "Now, tell me what's going on."

Angela sniffled, trying to stop the tears that seemed to have no end. It was as if she'd unstopped a dam and there was nothing left to stem the flow of tears.

Her mother sat patiently as Angela cried. Occasionally Janette would lean forward and pat Angela's hand.

Finally, the tears stopped enough so Angela could talk. She began by telling her mother about their week in Mustang. Although she didn't mention the fact that she and Hank had shared the same bed, she explained about Barbara's workshops and the closeness that had sprung up between Hank and herself.

"I think I've always been a little bit in love with him," she said as she swiped the last of her tears from her cheeks. "From the very first day I started working with him, I entertained a crazy crush that last week blew all out of control."

Janette frowned. "I must be missing something here. You tell me you love Hank and apparently he arranged the air display a little while ago, which means he loves you. So, what's the problem?"

Angela sighed and looked down at the damp paper towel she'd begun shredding. "First of all, I really don't believe he loves me. I think our week in Mustang has confused him. Secondly, even if he believes he loves me, how long will it last? How long will I have him before he decides to cut and run like..."

"Your father," Janette finished. Once again she reached over and touched Angela's hand. "Oh honey." A deep frown etched in the center of her forehead as she gazed at Angela with eyes of sadness. "Angela, I've watched you over the years, and I should have seen things more clearly, should have said something sooner... when you were younger."

"What are you talking about? Said something sooner about what?" Angela looked at her mother curiously.

Janette directed her attention out the nearby window, but her frown didn't ease at all. "As you know, right after your father left us, I developed a heart condition. What I didn't realize until this very moment was that when your father left us, you developed a condition of the heart."

Angela looked at her mother in bewilderment. "I don't understand..."

"I really didn't see the big picture until right now, but suddenly it's all clear to me."

"Mom, you aren't making any sense," Angela exclaimed.

Janette directed her gaze back at her daughter. "When Brian was little and you were in high school, you used him like a s.h.i.+eld against dating. You were always too busy for relations.h.i.+ps, choosing to attend a Little League game or a Cub Scout meeting over a date."

"That's not true," Angela protested.

Janette held up a hand to still her. "Then when Brian got too old for you to use, you used your work. In every job you've had, you've volunteered for extra duty, longer hours...making a personal life impossible. And it's because you're afraid."

"That's ridiculous," Angela scoffed. She jumped up from her chair, unable to sit still while her mother dissected her life with the precision instrument of a mother's intuition and wisdom.

"No, it's true. Your father's abandonment left a void in your heart, a hole so deep you've never been able to heal it, and you're frightened of letting another man into your life." Janette sighed once again. "I know about that pain, honey, because I have it, too."

Angela turned her back to her mother and stared out the window, tears blurring her vision as she considered what she'd just been told.

Was it true? Had she been far more scarred by her father's abandonment than she'd realized? Had she used the job of raising Brian as protection against involvement, as armor against hurt?

"Angela." Her mother's voice pulled her from her inner turmoil.

"I know about that pain, about that fear because it's what's kept me alone all these years." Her mother's voice was soft with regret. Angela turned to face her, and Janette continued. "Angela, if you love Hank... and if he says he loves you, then embrace it. Grab on to it and hold it tight. Don't let fear keep you alone all your life. I want more for you than that."

Janette stood. "I'm going to go lie down for a little while. Think about it, Angela. Think long and hard before you throw away what might be a wonderful chance for happiness."

Angela watched her mother leave the kitchen, her mind whirling with chaos. She sank back down at the table, her mother's words echoing over and over again in her head.

Grab on to it, embrace it. Oh, how Angela would love to do that. How she would love to get lost in Hank's love, to dwell in the fantasy his words of love built in her head, in her heart.

Her mother was right. She was afraid. But it was a fear that went deeper than her mother knew. It was not only the fear of abandonment, but the fear of inadequacy, the knowledge that she could never really measure up to what Hank wanted in a woman.

Her mother would never understand that particular fear and it was something Angela was reluctant to tell anyone else. She knew her mother would discount it, would tell Angela how beautiful she was, how special. But, Angela knew the truth. She was...and always would be "funny face."

At a few minutes after eight, Angela called the office and left a message on the machine that she would not be coming into work that day. With Hank's excessive, lavish proclamation of love still burning in her head, she felt far too vulnerable to face him in person.

At nine Brian left for school and her mother dressed and headed out for a doctor's appointment and lunch with friends, leaving Angela alone in the house with only her thoughts for uneasy company.

Always, when Angela didn't want to think, she worked. She spent the morning cleaning the living room, trying not to think of what Hank might be doing, how the interviews for a new secretary were going or why he hadn't called her after the sky message had been sent.

Maybe one of the prospective secretaries was a gorgeous, big-bosomed blonde who was also bright, efficient and energetic. Maybe the prospective new girl on the block had made him forget all about his "love" for Angela.

It was almost two when she sat down at the kitchen table with the Maxwell folder in front of her. Work. Anything to keep her mind off Hank. She had worked on several ideas for the account the night before, wanting to knock Hank's socks off before she left his firm...his life for good.

Despite the fact that she didn't want to hear from him, the silence of her phone aggravated her. If he loved her so much, why hadn't he called?

At four the doorbell rang and Angela opened the door to see Hank. Standing just behind him was Brody Robinson, who cast her a pleasant, but bewildered smile.

"Hank...what are you doing?" she asked warily.

"That's what I've been asking him for the last three hours," Brody exclaimed. "He tore into Mustang earlier this morning, told me I had to follow him up here, that he had something important he had to tell me, but he had to do it here with you."

"Hank...don't be crazy," she said, her heart thudding rapidly. Surely he didn't intend to do what she thought he did...tell Brody the truth.

"I am crazy," he replied. "Crazed with the need to make you understand my love for you." He turned to Brody. "Brody, I have something to tell you and it isn't something I'm proud of. I lied to you."

Brody's expression of perplexion changed to a frown. "You lied to me? Lied about what?"

"Me and Angela...we aren't married. We pretended to be married because I thought you'd pull your account if you thought I was single."

"Then who is she?" Brody pointed to Angela.

"That's my secretary."

Brody's eyes widened. "You got your secretary pregnant?"

"No!" Hank and Angela's protest rang out in unison.

Brody swiped a hand across the lower half of his face and Hank hurriedly continued to explain. "I talked Angela into pretending to be my wife, but now I've fallen in love with her and want to many her and she doesn't believe me because I lied to you."

Brody frowned. "Is your name really Angela?" he asked, as if needing some modic.u.m of truth to hang on to.

Angela nodded, her stomach churning with anxiety. The fool. The crazy fool. He shouldn't have done this. He shouldn't have risked the Robinson account to prove a point she would never believe.

Brody drew a deep breath and eyed Hank. "Look, I don't know what's going on between the two of you. I wanted you to have the benefit of Barbara's teachings because I like you. You should have been honest with me from the very beginning."

Hank nodded, regret darkening his eyes. "I know that now... and if you decide to pull your account from my firm, I'll understand."

"Pull my account?" Brody looked at Hank as if he had lost his mind. "Hank, I'm a simple man. I love home, hearth and family, but business is business. You're the best d.a.m.n ad man around. Why in the h.e.l.l would I want to pull my account?"