Plain Jane's Plan

Allison hadn’t realized Jeff could be such a smooth liar.

“You’ll have to show me the rock when you get it,” the clerk said to Allison with a wink as she handed each of them an electronic key, having apparently overcome her embarrassment. “I love diamonds.”

“I’ll bet you do,” Allison murmured, then immediately felt guilty for being so catty. The clerk was just being friendly, and Allison could hardly blame her for flirting.

“You’re in Suite 1516. If you’ll point out your bags, I’ll have the bellman bring them up.”

Jeff gestured toward their matching suitcases, then casually slung an arm around Allison’s shoulders and guided her to the elevator. The clerk watched them walk away, her eyes downright misty, before turning her attention to the next person in line.

“Well, wasn’t that sweet,” Allison said, stepping out of Jeff’s light embrace the moment the elevator doors closed. She hoped he didn’t notice her accelerated breathing, or the fact that beads of sweat had broken out on her forehead. “Is that how it is for you all the time? Women throwing themselves at your feet?”

“No, of course not. Some women just like to flirt. She’s probably saying the exact same thing to the next person she checks in.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. She remembered you.”

Jeff shrugged. “Some women have a thing for doctors. Anyway, getting hit on is a problem women have more than men, I think.”

Not me, she wanted to add, because it was true. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had to fend off an unwanted advance. Maybe it was Hughey Jobson, in sixth grade, who’d threatened to kiss her on the mouth if she didn’t hand over her Twinkies from lunch. But pointing that out would only gain Jeff’s sympathy, not his passion.

“Well, anyway,” she said, “I wish you would warn me next time before you present me as your fiancée. I wasn’t ready.”

“I thought we needed the practice.”

“I’m supposed to protect you from Sherry. I didn’t know I’d have to smile and simper for everybody.”

“No one said anything about smiling and simpering. Jeez, that’s not the kind of woman you think I’d marry, is it?”

“I can’t see you marrying anyone.”

He leaned against the elevator wall and folded his arms. “Why is that?”

“You’re too fickle.” She folded her own arms, mirroring his posture. “You buy a new car every six months. You throw out milk before the expiration date, and you won’t eat a banana if it has a single brown spot. You have no tolerance for imperfection. Every woman you date has some fault—this one has an annoying laugh, that one has too many cats. You look for excuses to dump them. When you’re married, you have to accept a person, faults and all. You have to commit. You can’t just walk away when you get a little bit bored, or when something else attracts you.

“That is why I can’t see you married.”

Jeff just stared at her. Even when the elevator doors opened onto their floor, he still stood there, his mouth slightly open, his eyes glazed.

Belatedly Allison realized she’d been too blunt. He’d been looking for a little harmless banter, and she’d given him a no-holds-barred assessment of his personality. She hadn’t painted a very pretty picture.

“Well, thanks, Allison, for answering my question so…honestly.” He walked off the elevator ahead of her.

Allison felt just awful. Jeff was her friend, one of her very, very best friends. Just because women threw themselves at him was no reason for her to launch such a personal attack toward him. He’d done nothing to her. She supposed her doctor’s appointment with Stephanie tomorrow had her more on edge than she realized, and she was taking it out on poor Jeff.

She hurried down the hall after him. “Jeff, wait. I’m sorry.”

He said nothing, just kept walking until he reached Suite 1516. He opened the lock with his electronic key, then threw the door open and gestured for her to enter.

When she saw the room, she was momentarily distracted from her need to apologize. The suite was gorgeous, the most luxurious space she’d ever seen. She’d never traveled much, and when she did, she stayed in a budget-minded place. It had taken her many years to pay off the huge debts from dental school, then the equipment she needed for her practice. She was out of debt now, but still didn’t like to spend money wantonly. Last year when she’d attended this convention, she’d stayed at a Motel Six.

Jeff’s financial situation was a lot different. His father had paid for med school, then welcomed him into the practice—where the equipment was already paid off.

“Wow.” She wandered from the living room into the bedroom, resisting the urge to kick off her shoes and run barefoot through the inch-thick carpet. “This place must be costing you a fortune,” she said. “Why don’t we split the bill?” Even split in two, the rate would be three times what she normally paid, but it wasn’t fair to make Jeff carry the whole burden, even if this engagement scheme was his idea.

“I can afford it,” he said gruffly.

The bellman arrived moments later with their bags. He set them both up on luggage racks in the bedroom. Allison looked at those matching suitcases, side by side, and thought how cozy they must appear to the bellman.

Jeff tipped the man and sent him on his way. Then he wasted no time grabbing his suitcase and carrying it out into the living area. “You can have this room. I’ll sleep on the fold-out sofa.”

“You mean there’s not a second bedroom?”

“No, this is it.”

“I don’t mind sleeping on the sofa. I’m smaller.” She was proud of the fact she could say that and mean it.

“I’ll try it first,” he said. “But I probably won’t be able to commit to the sofa bed. I’ll find lumps, or it’ll sag in the middle—”

“Jeff…”

“And then I’ll want to toss it aside and go for the king-size bed. C’mon, you know it’s true.”

“I was completely out of line with those comments, and I’m sorry.” She stood in the bedroom doorway, talking to his back as he hoisted his bag onto the sofa and unzipped it. “Truly, Jeff. Can you forget I said them?”

He straightened, then slowly turned, a troubled frown marring his handsome face. “I’ll always forgive you, you know that. But I can’t forget. Is that how you actually see me? I had no idea.”

“I was exaggerating. I was irritated because that beautiful woman threw herself at you, and you took it for granted. I was jealous.”

“Jealous?” He stopped scowling at her.

“Yeah. Because beautiful men never throw themselves at me. It hardly seems fair.” All right, so she was playing her sympathy ticket. Not very commendable, but if she could nudge Jeff out of his pique, she swore she would watch her tongue in the future. He might not see her “that way,” but he was her friend and he cared for her, which gave her the power to hurt him. She’d never realized that before.

He finally smiled. “You’ll find your white knight someday, Allie.” Then he paused, looking thoughtful. “Do I really throw out perfectly good bananas?”

“I saw you do it once. And the—” She censored herself.

“The what?”

“Nothing.”

“What, Allison? Tell me, or I’ll tickle you.”

Oh, no, not the tickle monster. He hadn’t done that to her since junior high, when the mere thought of his perfect hands on the rolls of fat around her middle had prompted her to capitulate immediately to the threat.

Now, the idea of his hands on her ribs—no more rolls of fat—was unsettling for a different reason. Her hormones were already on red alert from the casual way he’d touched her in front of the hotel clerk. She couldn’t handle any more touching at the moment.

She took an instinctive step backward. “I was going to say, ‘And the heels from bread.’ You throw those away, too.”

“That has nothing to do with commitment. I never commit to the heels, even at the grocery store when I first put the bread in my basket. I always tell them up front, ‘I’m not eating you. You’re too tough.”’