He arrived at her door feeling noble. He might not be doing what he wanted tonight, but they would be doing what she wanted. That was important, especially considering his recent decision regarding Jamie.
He pictured her primping in front of her bathroom mirror, checking to make sure her dress looked good from the back. Then all his thoughts came to a dead stop when he noticed the note taped to her door.
He had to read it twice. The first time the words kept jumping around on him.
Dev—
I can’t make it tonight. I’m not the woman you thought I was. Unfortunately I’m the kind who would rather go skating than out on the town, so that’s what I’m doing tonight. I’m sorry for misleading you.
—Jamie
Fire raced through his veins. She’d ditched him for some guy she’d seen last night! Here he was, turning himself inside out to give her a special evening, and she didn’t even want a special evening! She wanted to go skating.
Tossing the box of roses down beside her door, he ripped the note off and headed back to the main floor, taking the stairs two at a time. By God, he was not going to let her get away with this. She’d tied him up in knots with her fancy lovemaking, and now she thought she could simply walk away? Not likely!
He’d asked the cabbie to wait, anticipating that Jamie would be coming down with him. He hopped in the back seat. “Take me to the McCormick Tribune rink on Michigan.”
The cabbie turned, and his glance flicked over Dev’s starched collar, black tie, dress coat and white silk scarf. Then he shrugged. “Okeydoke.”
Dev tapped on the seat impatiently as the cab threaded its way through heavy Friday night traffic, made worse by the snow falling faster every minute. She’d gone skating. He even liked skating! If she’d only said something, they could be skating together right at this moment.
Then he thought of the questionnaire. Maybe she hadn’t dared tell him who she really was. After all, he hadn’t told her who he really was, either. Because of that, she’d gone skating with another man tonight, when she was supposed to be with him.
When the cabbie let him off near the rink, he could see right away that he’d have an audience. The rink was busy, filled with couples who’d chosen to spend a romantic evening gliding over the ice, despite, or perhaps because of, the falling snow.
He looked for Jamie among the couples and couldn’t find her. Then he spotted a short skater with flaming hair circling the rink like an Olympian going for the gold. She was alone.
After watching her for a couple of minutes Dev decided she didn’t have a date, after all. He didn’t know if that was better or worse. She’d chosen to be alone instead of with him. That really hurt.
But hurt or not, he was going to straighten this out. Walking to the edge of the rink, he waited for her to come by. Even before he called her name, he could tell she’d seen him.
Her eyes widened and she veered away from the spot where he was standing.
He couldn’t believe it. She didn’t even want to talk to him. “Jamie!” he called, but he knew in advance she wouldn’t stop.
He waited for her to come around again. Again she veered.
“Jamie!” He held out a hand, but she ignored him and sped off. This was ridiculous. He couldn’t keep this up. People were starting to stare.
The next time she came around, he stepped out onto the ice. “Jamie, please come over here and—”
“Nope!” Her cheeks pink, she turned on the speed again.
“For God’s sake, Jamie!” Frustration spurred him on, and he started after her. An attendant shouted something, but he paid no attention. Unfortunately his dress shoes weren’t made for running, let alone running on ice. He made it about thirty yards before losing his footing and going down hard.
The attendant, a kid with peach fuzz on his chin, hurried over. “I’m sorry, sir, but we can’t allow—”
“Dev! Are you all right?” Jamie sprayed ice as she whirled to a stop beside him.
He glared at her. “Physically I’m fine.”
“Oh, good.” She sighed in apparent relief and crouched beside him. “When I saw you take a tumble I was scared.”
“I said I was physically okay. Mentally, however—”
“That’s what concerns me, sir,” the attendant said. “Anyone who would run on the ice wearing what you’re wearing most likely has some sort of mental prob—”
“It’s okay,” Jamie said, glancing up at the kid. “This is Deverell Heathcliff Sherman the Fourth.”
Dev groaned. “No, I’m not.” He’d rather be an anonymous crazy guy.
“I’m sure his family donated a huge amount to help build this rink,” Jamie added. “And he’ll be leaving soon anyway, right, Dev?”
“Not without you.”
The pink in her cheeks deepened. “Dev, we have nothing in common. It’s better if—”
“We have more in common than you think.” Dev glanced at the kid. “Could you give us a minute?”
Although the kid looked more than ready to eavesdrop, he backed away.
Jamie bent close to Dev. “Look at me. Look at you. We’re polar opposites.”
He grabbed hold of her scarf and pulled her closer. “The only difference between you and me is that I’m a man and you’re a woman. And I think we’ve already worked through that obstacle.”
Her eyes filled with distress. “But I wasn’t being me!”
“And I wasn’t being me,” he said gently. “All my answers were lies, because I was afraid my questionnaire would be used to find me marriage prospects. I wanted to recognize them when they showed up.”
“You lied? I don’t believe it. Whenever I tried something from that questionnaire, you loved it.
You went bananas over the black lace, and the Jungle Goddess, and the leather—”
He tugged a little harder on her scarf, wanting her close enough so no one else could hear, and close enough to kiss those lips that didn’t have a trace of lipstick on them. “I went bananas over you,” he murmured. “I tolerated all the other stuff, because you were the one peddling it.”
“Tolerated? Peddling?” She gave him a hard shove.
He skidded a couple of feet on the seat of his pants, but he kept a grip on her scarf, so she was pulled along with him, sliding on her knees.
She was breathing hard. “This is ridiculous. Let go of my scarf.”
“Not yet. Listen, maybe I used the wrong words.”
“Duh. Do you think? You weren’t tolerating anything, Mister Hot Commodity! You were into it, and don’t try to tell me you weren’t.”
“Some of the stuff, okay. But—”
She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “At this very moment I’m wearing plain cotton panties and a sports bra. Don’t you dare tell me you’d find that as sexy as black lace. Don’t you dare.”
“I wouldn’t dare. You might shove me clear across the rink. I can only take so much public humiliation.”
“Dev, be serious.”
“I am serious. I’m getting hot thinking of you in plain cotton panties and a sports bra.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“If I didn’t have this overcoat to disguise the evidence, you’d have to believe me.”
A smile flickered in her eyes as she gazed at him. “You lied about everything?”
“Uh-huh. Told you the exact opposite of what I really like. What I really like is simplicity. Like when we got out of the shower Tuesday night. Just us. Nothing fancy.”
“You’re not just saying that, are you?”
“No, and I’ll prove it.” He pulled aside the flap of his dress coat.
“Dev.”
“Take it easy. I won’t flash the skaters.” He reached into his slacks’ pocket and pulled out the small velvet box he’d carried out of The Diamond Mine this afternoon. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Jamie.”
She stared at the box for a long, long time. Slowly she reached out and took it. “Dixie got a locket from a secret admirer today. I’ll bet this is a locket, too.”
He sat there, his butt getting cold and wet, and the snow falling faster and faster.
“I didn’t expect a gift, you know,” she said.
“This isn’t a gift.”
“Of course it is. It’s a—” She gasped as she saw what was in the box.
“It goes with the wedding wrapping paper,” he said. “I didn’t know that back then. Well, I kind of knew it, but I didn’t totally trust my instincts.”
“Oh, Dev.”
“Marry me, Jamie. I love you. I don’t care what you wear or don’t wear. I can take any kind of perfume or no perfume. I just want you.”
She started to cry, tears streaming down her face as she looked from the ring to him, then back at the ring, then back at him.
“Jamie, what does that mean?” His stomach pitched at the thought that she’d turn him down. “Is that a yes or a no?”
“It’s a yes, you crazy man. I thought if this moment ever came I’d faint. Turns out I become a water faucet instead.”
His throat closed with emotion. “So…are you saying that…you’re in love with me, too?”