Читать книгу Engaging Alex - Kristin Gabriel, Linda Randall Wisdom - Страница 8

PAIGE HANOVER realized too late that she should have worn black sackcloth to celebrate her first wedding anniversary. Although it wasn’t technically her anniversary. After all, her fiancé, Alex Mack, had left her high and dry before the ceremony exactly one year ago today.

Now as she stood in the rain looking up at the old Victorian house that had been renovated into a four-unit apartment building, Paige could feel her new red leather pants literally shrinking onto her legs. Already skintight when dry, the pants would probably shut off her blood circulation before long.

She stepped forward to rap on the solid front door again, then peered through the ornate glass sidelight. A doorman sat with his back to her, totally engrossed in a television program on the small set in front of him. She could collapse from lack of blood flow to the brain and he probably wouldn’t even notice her on the doorstep for hours. Not that Paige needed a man to rescue her—not anymore.

Twisting the antique brass knob in her hand, she was surprised to hear it click open. Paige stepped into the foyer, dripping rainwater onto the clean tile floor. The doorman didn’t even flinch at her arrival. His gaze was firmly fixed on the screen that flickered in the gloomy light.

So the place wasn’t exactly a bastion of security. Paige didn’t plan to stay long anyway. But when she saw the program he was watching on television, she almost considered running back out into the downpour and forgetting this whole crazy idea.

She saw herself on the screen trying to escape a tenacious reporter who kept thrusting a microphone under her chin as she tried to hurry down the narrow sidewalk.

“Do you believe in UFO abductions?”

“No,” she said tersely, her eyes straight-ahead as she walked.

“Then how can you explain your fiancé’s sudden disappearance on the day of your wedding? Or the fact that his whereabouts are unknown?”

“No comment,” she clipped, before hastily ducking into a doorway.

The male reporter turned to the camera and spoke in a solemn tone. “One year ago today, this San Francisco woman woke up on her wedding day to discover that her fiancé had mysteriously disappeared. In our special edition of UFO Watch, we will hear why her mother believes aliens may be involved. And discuss why this left-behind bride is afraid to talk. Is the government responsible for silencing her? Or is it simply fear of the aliens that may have absconded with the love of her life?”

The reporter cleared his throat. “This is Cleo Dimont asking you to stay tuned and to always keep an eye on the sky.”

The doorman shook his head as the program went to commercial. “Amazing.”

“Pathetic,” Paige countered, feathering her fingers through her short curls.

The doorman jumped at the sound of her voice, whirling around as he clutched his slim hand to his chest. “You shouldn’t sneak up on a person like that! Especially a person watching a show about alien abductions.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I wasn’t scared,” he countered. “I have black belts in karate and judo. You could have been seriously injured.”

“Too bad you weren’t around when that UFO Watch reporter pounced on me outside my house last week.”

The doorman blinked, looked at the television, then back at Paige. “I don’t believe it! You’re her. You’re the Left-Behind Bride!”

She clenched her teeth at the moniker the show had given her. Not that many people watched it among the hundreds of other local cable shows available. Still, she didn’t like having her private life beamed down from a satellite in the sky for public viewing.

That’s what she called alien abduction.

“My fiancé was not abducted by a UFO,” Paige told the doorman, a story she’d repeated too many times to remember. “He just got cold feet. But that’s not what the reporter wanted to hear.”

The doorman nodded in sympathy. “Reporters can be pests. At least he was cute.”

Paige hadn’t noticed. She’d spent the last year avoiding any man who looked in her direction. But that was about to change. No more hiding from life. From love. It was time to forget about Alex Mack once and for all. To say a final goodbye to the happily ever after fantasy that she’d clung to for far too long.

That’s why she was here tonight.

“I’m looking for Franco Rossi,” she said, aware that a small puddle had formed on the floor around her.

The doorman grinned. “That’s me. You must be here about the apartment.”

Paige nodded, setting down the grocery bag she’d been holding. “I’m Paige Hanover. We spoke yesterday on the telephone.” She didn’t tell him she’d called as soon as she’d seen the For Rent sign in the apartment window.

The timing couldn’t be more perfect. Her mother had called it cosmic fate, though Paige tried not to encourage Margo Weaver’s increasing fascination with extraterrestrial life. It had gotten worse since Paige’s stepfather had disappeared from the Weaver home a year and a half ago. Even Paige had to admit his middle-of-the-night vanishing act was strange. Almost tailor-made for a show like UFO Watch.

Like mother, like daughter.

Only Paige didn’t believe in UFOs, alien abductions, little green men or any of that other nonsense. She cringed at sensationalistic shows like UFO Watch, hating the fact that she was now one of their subjects.

Paige simply believed that she’d picked the wrong man, just like her mother. But that didn’t mean they should give up. Or cling to some ridiculous theory about aliens abducting the men they loved. It was time to face reality.

That’s why she was here tonight. To prove to herself and to her mother that it was a mistake to hold on to the past. Renting this apartment was her first step toward moving into the future.

Even the unusual lease fit Paige’s purpose. It was a time-share, allowing her to use the apartment just two days out of the week—Friday and Saturday. She’d paid the required minimum of one month’s rent, though she’d have no reason to return after tonight. She would consider the extra expense well-spent if it would get Alex Mack out of her head—and her heart—once and for all.

“The place is already furnished,” Franco said, “courtesy of my ex-boyfriend, Marlon. He owns prime real estate all over the country. I lived with him in New York City until we broke up, then I won this apartment in a landmark palimony suit and moved to San Francisco.”

Paige looked around the foyer. “Was working as the building’s doorman part of the agreement?”

Franco smiled. “It’s more of a volunteer position. I’m writing my first screenplay and I thought this would be a great opportunity to meet a lot of different people for character sketches. People like you.”

“So you don’t actually live here?” Paige asked, still somewhat confused.

Franco leaned closer and whispered. “Don’t tell anyone, but I’ve turned the janitor’s room in the basement into my own little home away from home. It’s absolutely horrid, but writers are supposed to suffer for their craft. And the money I collect from leasing the apartment will help me produce my screenplay.”

At least her rent payment was going to a worthwhile cause. “Well, good luck.”

“Thanks.” Franco reached into his pocket. “Here’s the key to the apartment. You have to furnish your own linens, as I told you on the phone. But you’re welcome to use any of the CDs in the stereo. I highly recommend the Wizard of Oz soundtrack. You just can’t beat Judy Garland.”

Paige nodded as she took the key, not bothering to tell him that she’d brought a CD of her own. One that fit the occasion perfectly.

Franco crossed his arms across his narrow chest as he looked her up and down. “You look a lot different than you did on television.”

“I cut my hair.” She reached up to touch the damp fringe at her neck. The stylist had tried to talk her out of cutting her waist-length hair, but Paige was determined to make some changes in her life. Big changes.

Franco nodded with approval. “It looks good. Great outfit, too.”

Paige glanced down at her red halter top and matching leather pants, still unable to believe she’d bought something this outrageous—much less put it on. Thanks to the rain, she just hoped she could get it off.

“The forecast was sunny and warm when I left home this morning,” she explained, though she usually didn’t forget her umbrella. She’d obviously had too many other things on her mind today.

“I hope it’s not ruined,” Franco commiserated, his gaze on her leather pants. “You should probably take them off and lay them out to dry.” He opened a closet door behind him and reached inside. “Here, you can borrow this to wear in the meantime.”

She saw him pull out a hanger with a black skirt hanging from it. “Thanks, but I couldn’t possibly—”

“Please take it,” Franco insisted, shoving it into her hands. “I don’t want you sitting on my furniture in wet pants. Besides, it’s a great skirt.” He glanced down at the bottle of wine in her bag. “Men love it.”

Paige transferred the hanger to her other hand, then picked up the bag off the floor and headed for the staircase. “Thanks for lending me the skirt. I owe you.”

“Believe me, it’s my pleasure,” Franco called after her. “Apartment 2B is on the left at the top of the stairs. I’ll be happy to show you the way.”

“That’s all right,” she assured him, taking a deep breath as she started up the steps. “I already know it.”

TWENTY MINUTES LATER, Paige had her leather pants off and the borrowed black skirt on, somewhat surprised at how well it fit. She thought it a little strange that the doorman would have a spare skirt in the closet, but everything about Franco seemed a little strange.

Peeling those shrunken leather pants off had been an arduous process, but definitely worth it. The silky fabric of the short skirt whispered against her bare thighs and made her want to sway to the Frank Sinatra song playing on the stereo. The song Alex used to sing in her ear when they danced. At least hearing it didn’t make her cry anymore.

The rain had finally abated, so Paige opened the balcony doors to let some fresh air into the stale apartment. It was located at the back of the old Victorian. She stepped out onto the balcony to see the row of Painted Ladies, the nickname given to Victorian houses adorned with several shades of coordinating paint, across the street. Many of the houses were in various stages of renovation.

She could smell a hint of the ocean as the breeze picked up. Turning back into the apartment, her gaze moved slowly over the table she’d set so meticulously.

There were two plates with chocolate éclairs on them, the dessert she and Alex had shared on their first date. A bottle of premium champagne chilling in an ice bucket, the same brand Alex had purchased the day of their engagement. A dried arrangement of white gardenias and stephanotis in the center of the table—her wedding bouquet.

A ripple of apprehension fluttered through her. This was a big step in her life. Paige had spent the past year preparing herself for this moment. Telling herself that it was time to move on. But was she really ready to forget about Alex—forever?

Yes.

She took a determined step toward the table and picked up the folded sheet of paper lying there. Alex’s marriage proposal—sent via e-mail over a year ago. Paige had been stunned when she’d opened it. Hadn’t really believed it until she’d printed it out in black and white. Now her gaze flew over the words she’d memorized long ago. Words that were imprinted on her heart.

Paige,

We’ve only known each other a few weeks, but I think I fell in love with you the moment we met. Say you’ll marry me and be mine forever.

Alex

She took a deep breath, then held the paper over the candle, letting the flame lick at the edges until it caught. The corner of the paper turned black and began curling toward her palm. She dropped it in a crystal bowl and watched it burn until it was nothing but ashes.

Then she picked up the imported champagne bottle and poured both flutes full of the sparkling wine. “Here’s to you, Alex Mack.” She raised one glass high in the air. “May you rot in hell.”

Paige caught her reflection in the antique wall mirror, still surprised by the woman she saw there. Her thick brown hair was now short and sassy, tapered at her neck and streaked with auburn highlights.

She’d gone on a shopping spree, too, buying outfits like the slinky halter top and matching red leather pants she’d worn here tonight. No more shapeless linen shifts and boring pantsuits for the new Paige Hanover.

It was time for a fresh start, symbolized by the anemone tattoo on her ankle. In the language of flowers, anemones stood for anticipation. Paige had grown up with flowers, working in her paternal grandfather’s flower shop, Bay Bouquets, then inheriting it from him after his death five years ago.

Now she designed custom floral arrangements for the homes and businesses of some of the wealthiest citizens of San Francisco. Her mother ran the front of the store and her stepfather had made all the deliveries until his sudden disappearance eighteen months ago.

Bay Bouquets was definitely a family affair, but maybe it was time to expand. Once she put Alex behind her, she could concentrate fully on her business. Maybe even look into starting a franchise.

But first things first.

Paige walked over to the stereo and ejected the Sinatra CD, then stepped out onto the balcony. Lights shone in the houses around her and she knew families were sitting down to dinner together. Couples were telling each other about their day. She’d dreamed of doing the same with Alex in this very apartment.

A dream that had been hard to let go—until tonight.

Holding the CD in her hand like a Frisbee, she flipped her wrist and sent it spinning into the night. “Goodbye, Frank.”

Then her hand went to the engagement ring she kept on a chain around her neck. She’d worn it next to her heart for the past year. An exquisite half-carat diamond that had been a symbol of Alex’s commitment—until her handsome fiancé had disappeared without any explanation.

Her throat tightened, remembering the thrill that had soared through her when Alex had pulled the ring from his shirt pocket and presented it to her. The shy, almost embarrassed way he’d slipped it on her finger.

Paige had kissed him then, so full of passion for him that it had scorched her down to her very soul. Alex had lost all of his shyness, pulling her tightly against him and ravishing her lips with his mouth. She breathed a deep, wistful sigh, remembering the moment and the desire she could have sworn she’d seen in his eyes.

Paige had believed that they would finally consummate their relationship that night…but had only been disappointed once again.

Alex had wanted to wait until their wedding night. Had murmured something about wanting to make it special between them. She’d actually thought it rather sweet at the time—as well as a little frustrating.

Now she knew it had been a sign.

A bad sign. Alex hadn’t wanted her after all. Something…something about her had made him change his mind. He hadn’t even bothered to explain the reason in the note he’d left, which had contained only two words: Sorry, Alex. She’d spent months going over every moment they’d spent together, trying to figure out what she’d done wrong.

After months of torturous soul-searching and endless phone conversations with her friends analyzing every angle of the relationship, Paige had finally figured it out. She’d fallen in love with a jerk.

A handsome, sexy, charming jerk, but a jerk all the same. Paige blamed herself for indulging in a whirlwind romance. For agreeing to marry a man she’d known for barely a month. For letting him break her heart.

She blamed Alex for everything else. The cowardly way he ran off before the wedding. All the silly UFO hype that had followed. But most of all, she blamed him for the way he’d made her doubt herself.

So it was time to put him in the past once and for all. After tonight she’d never think about or cry over Alex again. Maybe her mother would even follow her example, though Paige didn’t hold out much hope.

Margo Weaver didn’t handle loss well. She’d had a mental breakdown twelve years ago when Paige’s father had been killed in a car accident, refusing to accept his death. Just like she was refusing to accept the fact that her second husband wasn’t coming back. Margo was certain Stanley would return to her some day—as soon as the aliens let him go.

Paige didn’t want to end up like her mother—clinging to a crazy fantasy instead of accepting reality. Carefully pulling the chain over her head, she undid the clasp and the diamond ring fell into her palm. The platinum band glistened in the waning sunlight. She closed her fist around it, then hurled it over the balcony. “Goodbye, Alex.”

She leaned over the railing to watch the ring fly through the air. It bounced down the sidewalk several feet before she finally lost sight of it.

Gone forever. Just like Alex.

A perfect ending to what she’d once believed was a perfect love.

Paige straightened and turned, her heart lighter than it had been for a long time. She walked over to the table, blew out the candles, then dumped the éclairs into the trash. She intended to leave all the rest behind—the dishes, the candlesticks, the champagne. A thank-you to Franco for lending her the skirt for the evening. She had no reason to ever return to this apartment.

Paige opened the door, ready to step into her new life.

And saw Alex Mack standing on the other side.

She grabbed the doorjamb to keep from falling over, his sexy smile still able to make her heart bounce in her chest.

Then he said, “Hi, honey. I’m home.”