Patt Marr - Angel In Disguise

The sarcasm surprised her. She must have shown it.

He added, “Well, it’s not like I’m the most photogenic guy in town. I always look awkward in home movies.”

Awkward was not a word she would have used to describe Pete Maguire, not in a million years. “You’ve got to be joking. You couldn’t look bad if you tried.”

He looked at her as if she’d lost her mind.

“Well, you couldn’t,” she insisted.

As quickly as a cloud steals the sun, Pete’s blue eyes dulled. The sadness, the loss in those eyes took her breath away. What was wrong? Was it something she said?

Pete felt like a fool. It wasn’t the first time he’d forgotten the new cheekbones, Roman nose and classic chin. When he looked in a mirror these days, it wasn’t him. Sometimes he felt like an alien the way people treated The Face as if it were real. The few times he tried to explain, he got pity or skepticism. Even worse was the advice he should be grateful.

Why didn’t people understand he wasn’t somebody brand-new just because he looked it? Whoever said what counted was the person inside had never had reconstructive facial surgery. People wouldn’t let you be the person inside. They reacted to what they saw. Or thought they saw.

It was better to live like a hermit, hang out at the beach by himself and get through the days, one at a time, until he got comfortable with all the changes. If he ever did.

He should never have let Meggy talk him into this date.

Determined to escape, but not wanting to hurt Sunny’s feelings—she was too nice a person for that—he said, “Now that the cameras are gone, I should probably head out, too.”

“Head out?” she echoed, her pretty brown eyes perplexed. “You want to leave now? Was it something I said?”

“No!” He didn’t want her to think that. “It’s just… I think I should go. I’m not very good company.”

She shrugged. “You’re a lot better than Brad.”

He liked her quick comeback even if she wasn’t letting him bow out gracefully. “I may be better than Brad, but believe me, you can do better than me—a whole lot better.”

“The audience didn’t seem to think so. What am I supposed to do with all this food?” she asked, her hands on her hips, her stance defiant, as if she were arguing with a ref who’d just called a foul on a good blocked shot. “We’ve got pot roast, Pete, and mashed potatoes with gravy, corn on the cob and the cheesecake. In fact, everything but your mom and her backyard.”

“What would you say if I told you I don’t eat red meat, I hate cheesecake, my mom never cooks and she has no backyard.”

Surprise flared in those butternut eyes, but she quipped, “What would you say if I told you I didn’t cook a speck of this food and, in fact, can’t even boil water?”

He felt the smile break across his face.

“You think that’s funny? We’ll see who’s laughing if you don’t eat this food. My girls will track you down and use that ugly tie you wore on Dream Date to hang you by your neck.”

Maybe he ought to try the pot roast. If Sunny served it, he might even like cheesecake.

“Who’d you say cooked the pot roast?” Pete said, sopping gravy with the last of his mashed potatoes.

“Leteisha’s mother.”

“Lucky Leteisha. Was your mom a good cook?”

“A wonderful woman named Cook did our cooking.”

“Hmm. A guy named McDonald did most of ours. I learned to love peanut butter. Now it’s a vice.”

She laughed and silently thanked Pete for not pursuing her family background.

“So, do you want to invite the team over for cheesecake?” he said, leaning back in his chair, dangling his goblet in one hand.

“You aren’t trying to slip out on me again, are you?”

He grinned. “No, I just thought the girls had worked pretty hard on this meal and deserved a treat.”

“It’s more than that. Confess. You want someone to eat your piece of cheesecake.”

He worked that crooked smile and nodded. “Guilty,” he said, not looking it, not for a minute, not with those teasing eyes.

“We’d better not have the girls over. Mouse would have a fit if she knew I’d changed out of that top.”

“That was a great top.” The appreciative gleam in his eye made her as self-conscious as she’d been in the sweater.

“I thought I ought to work on that gravy stain right away. The sweater belonged to her.”

“Very considerate.”

He wouldn’t think so if he knew she’d spilled the gravy on purpose. She felt bad about it, but she’d buy Mouse a dozen sweaters if need be. She’d just had to get out of that thing.

“The way your girls brought this whole thing off, it’s no wonder they won the regional. You must be some coach, Sunny Keegan.”

The words might be pure shmooze, the stock and trade of handsome men, but she didn’t mind, not this once. “The girls deserve all the credit,” she said, trying not to enjoy his praise too much.

“I can’t believe the trouble they went to, getting you on Dream Date and all.”

“They were dead serious about getting me a date.”

“They thought they had to fix you up?” His astonishment was real and very flattering.

It gave her the courage to tell him what he’d probably find out anyhow. He deserved the truth, and she’d rather it came from her. “I hadn’t had a date since they’d known me.”

His eyes widened in surprise.

She looked away, not wanting to see the inevitable pity her explanation would generate. “Last June I was supposed to be married. Hours before the wedding, I discovered my fiancé with one of my bridesmaids and realized…well, you know.”

She risked a glance. It wasn’t pity on his face, but anger. That was okay.

“I didn’t handle it very well. I knew I couldn’t marry him, but I was pretty confused. Maybe it was cowardly, but I just took off and left the explanations to him.”

“Cowardly?” His eyebrows rose in protest. “He got off easy. If it were my sister, she’d have shot the guy. What happened when everybody realized you were gone?”

“My dad stood beside Bruce at the altar and told everyone the wedding was postponed because I was ill.”

“Postponed?”

She nodded.

“And you didn’t tell anyone what you saw.” He said it as a statement, not a question, as if he understood she’d rather live the lie than have people pity her.

Let people think she was an irresponsible flake. It was better than having them know she was an idiot who’d been taken in. Besides, if her parents hadn’t believed her, how could she expect anyone else to?

There was no pity in Pete’s eyes, just an awareness of the tough time she’d had. Testing his reaction, she added, “They went ahead and turned the reception into a party, saying I’d insisted on it.”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” he said with disgust.

She’d felt the same way, but she had to be fair.

“I ought to explain that my ex and my father are both in politics. It’s normal for them to put a spin on a bad situation. That’s why they went ahead with the reception.”

Pete was obviously baffled. “Let me get this straight. You found your ex messing around, told him it was over and took off. Nobody knew why or where you’d gone, and your parents went ahead and partied with your ex. That doesn’t make sense.”

Exactly. “Well, that’s what happened. My parents believed Bruce, not me. They thought I’d done him a great wrong, jumping to conclusions they way I did. My anger shouldn’t have been with Bruce, but with the deranged groupie who’d cornered the poor man and forced herself on him.”

“Groupie? Sunny, who is your ex?”