Ann Evans - After That Night

Sorry, Shelby Elaine. Looks like there will be no roses smelling up the house on your birthday. “Your favorite movie?”

“I rarely have time to go to movies.”

“Favorite color?”

“Gray.”

Should have seen that one coming. “Favorite animal?”

“I’d have to give that some thought. I’m not really an animal person. No pets.”

Probably too messy for his tastes. All that mushy unconditional-love stuff.

“I’m a Leo,” Mark Bishop offered. “But then, I think that was established in the last interview.”

She narrowed her eyes, certain now that he was making fun of her. His expression seemed guileless, and yet she imagined he knew exactly what she was thinking.

Changing tacks, she said, “Have you set a date yet?”

“Shelby would like to get married next spring.”

“Where?”

“On her father’s ranch in Texas.”

“And your honeymoon?”

Bishop shrugged. “That hasn’t been decided yet. I’ve told Shelby to pick out any spot that pleases her.”

Are all the decisions Shelby’s? Except for showing up, are you participating in this wedding at all? She clenched her teeth, trying to keep every bit of skepticism she had about these nuptials way, way down inside her. “Do you plan to have children?”

He took a moment to answer that one. Finally he said, “Shelby and I were both only children. We may want a child eventually, but I don’t think either of us is ready to give up our freedom just yet.”

She asked a dozen more questions. None of them seemed to upset or interest him. He danced around the more personal ones, and by the time the interview wound down, Jenna was pretty certain she’d discover later that she’d bitten her tongue completely in two. She wondered how she was going to make anyone find her article the least bit interesting.

Mark Bishop didn’t have a romantic bone in his body. Poor Shelby Elaine was going to find it tough going. Jenna felt sorry for the woman, and oddly dispirited herself, like a child who opens the most promising package under the Christmas tree only to find nothing she wants inside. Even the question of boxers or briefs seemed pointless now. She searched her list of questions, trying to come up with something to take back to Vic.

She settled on, “What advice could you give our readers if they wanted to catch a man like you, Mr. Bishop?” Not that anyone ought to try.

“I’d tell them not to bother.”

Her head snapped up. “I beg your pardon?”

His gaze was impersonal now, roaming over her in a way she didn’t like at all. In a bland, dispassionate voice he said, “No man should want any woman who makes it her life’s mission to catch a husband.”

Thrown off stride by that answer, Jenna was momentarily speechless. And then speech wasn’t necessary at all because the door to the penthouse opened and closed—again with a bang—and a gorgeous blonde stalked from the foyer into the living room.

The woman completely ignored Lauren and Jenna, and even Debra Lee, who’d come out of the kitchen area. She had the delicate, sculpted profile of an antique cameo, but there was nothing delicate about the way she approached Mark Bishop. She was breathing heavily, as though she’d just run a marathon.

A frown starting to form in his brow, Bishop straightened. “Shel? What’s the matter?”

The words were barely out of his mouth before Shelby Elaine Winston lifted her hand and slapped him hard across the face. He didn’t move or react in any way, but his cheek turned bright red immediately.

“You despicable son of a bitch! Did you really think I would sign this?” Shelby raised her other hand and waved a sheaf of legal-size documents in Mark Bishop’s face.

“Be reasonable,” he said calmly. “A prenup is hardly out of line in a merger like this. Legally, it only makes sense to—”

She threw the documents on the desk beside him, where they scattered wildly. “I was wrong. I thought I could change you, but I should never have doubted my instincts. You really don’t know how to love or trust anyone, do you, Mark? I feel sorry for you, but I’m glad I got the wake-up call before it’s too late.”

“Shelby, if you’ll just think about it rationally—”

“I’ve done nothing but think about it the whole way over here from Ken’s office. Is that how you see our future? Is that what you think marriage between us will come to?”

Mark Bishop never looked in Jenna or Lauren’s direction. He kept his gaze focused on the angry woman in front of him. “I would hope not. But I don’t have a crystal ball. I don’t know what the future holds, and neither do you.”

“Oh, but I do,” Shelby Elaine said in a tight voice. Lifting her hand, she twisted her engagement ring off her finger, then tossed it on the desk to join the papers. It bounced once, then rolled to a stop. “I see my future very clearly, Mark. And you’re not in it.”

“WELL,” LAUREN SAID as they waited for the elevator to take them back down to the lobby. “That was interesting.”

Jenna was still trying to catch her breath. “Interesting! You mean dreadful.”

After Shelby Winston had stormed out of the penthouse, Mark Bishop had turned to them calmly, apologized and said that the interview appeared to be over. Then he’d left the room. They’d gathered their things so quickly that anyone watching might have found their departure comical. Except that Jenna couldn’t find a single amusing thing about the whole sorry incident.

She stared up at the elevator numbers over the door, wishing it would hurry. She wanted to get back down to the sidewalk outside the hotel, where the last of the summer sun would warm her, make her feel less chilled.

Lauren glanced at her. “Oh, come on, Jen. Didn’t you learn anything from Jack about the rotten things men are capable of? Obviously Mr. Wonderful wanted to make sure Shelby Elaine couldn’t touch a single penny of his hard-earned money. If you ask me, she got out just in time.”

Jenna frowned. Something about that didn’t make sense. The elevator arrived, and all the way down she thought about it. Over the phone last night, Vic had prepped her pretty thoroughly about Mark Bishop, and Jenna, who had a mild interest in politics, had always kept current with what was happening in the wealthy and political Winston family.

Sure, a prenuptial agreement for a rich guy like Bishop might be a given, but he wasn’t exactly marrying Daisy Mae from Dogpatch. Her father was a senior state senator. The family history went back to Texas land grants deeded to her ancestors before the Alamo. Shelby herself was on the fast track as a campaign manager for Senator McDill from Nebraska. Why would money be the deal breaker?

Jenna said as much to Lauren as they strode through the lobby.

Lauren shrugged as she stepped through the revolving front door and didn’t reply until they were both on the sidewalk. “Maybe it was just the principle of the thing. Who cares? Except now we don’t have a story for the next issue.” She craned her neck to see if she could spot a taxi. “Vic’s gonna go ballistic when we come back empty-handed. I wonder if Bishop would be willing to be part of a new list—the South’s Ten Most Unromantic Males.”

Jenna shook her head. “I don’t see how you can be cavalier about what we just witnessed. It was so…unpleasant.”

Lauren stopped watching the traffic and turned to give her friend an incredulous look. “God, Jenna, don’t tell me you think there was any hope for that relationship! I mean, really, he’d buy her silk flowers? And why? Because you get better value. Yep, the blowup had to be a money thing. Men are always so generous before the wedding, aren’t they?” She spotted what appeared to be an available cab and waved her arm, but the driver whizzed right past them.