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Monica’s spirits fell as she considered the idea, but he’d talked about quitting his job and even though they parted on a sour note something between them had clicked. He’d get back in touch with her, she was almost certain.
“Mon?” Julie said softly. “Think about it. Are you in love or lust? You have read my book, haven’t you?”
Thankfully she must have meant that as a rhetorical question because without waiting for an answer, she went on to ask about his looks. “Did I do a good job choosing him?”
“Marvellous. He was perfect in every way. His dark curly hair and amazing blue eyes contrasted perfectly, and he had a body to die for.”
“Tell me you’re kidding,” Julie wailed. “I sent a blond guy with a beard. Remember that psychology prof you had the hots for our senior year of college? I had his image in mind when I placed the order. You were mad for him. Remember? You’re joking about dark hair and blue eyes. Right?”
Monica remembered Professor Sexton, or Sexy as they nicknamed him, now that Jules brought him up, but she hadn’t thought of the guy in years. When she said she wasn’t joking, Jules wanted to call Fantasy Unlimited ‘to make it right’ and send another man that fit the description, but Monica protested. “I liked Nick just fine. I’m sure no one else could … do any better.”
She was as puzzled as her friend why they sent an opposite and she was mulling it over when the phone rang again. She’d just gotten back to the table and her soup but excitedly ran for it, hoping it might be him and praying it wasn’t Jules saying she’d called Fantasy anyway and they were sending another man.
“Hello, Ma’am? This is Linda, the secretary at Fantasies Unlimited, and we sent your gift from Julie this afternoon. The Fantasy Man she requested was set to deliver, but Nick says he knocked and when you didn’t answer he left.”
Monica thought she was going to faint. “Nick?”
“Yes, and he wants me to apologise for him but the snow was falling so fast he was afraid he’d slide off your lane and get stuck like that truck did or the roads would close. So Nick said he was terribly sorry but could he please reschedule?”
“Exactly what does Nick look like?” She knew when she asked it was a lame question. If there was a truck stuck in her drive when he arrived, it had to have been Rick’s.
Ohmigod. No wonder Rick hadn’t wanted her to answer the door. He was an impostor who’d taken advantage of her and the real guy was just arriving. Who on earth had she spent half the day making love with? The idea that it was a total stranger didn’t sound as inviting now as it had.
“Blond hair and beard. Green eyes. Nice build. Exactly what your friend ordered. Is something wrong, Miss Adams?”
No wonder Nick … Rick … said she should have asked for identification. Damned right, but pointing it out when he did was an admission of his guilt. She just didn’t see it at the time. If only she hadn’t been blown away by his looks she wouldn’t have assumed he was the Fantasy Man, but when she did, he should have set her straight, which meant that he obviously wanted her as much as she wanted him … whoever he was.
Ohmigod. She’d called a carpenter who should have shown up two days ago. Was that who he was? How stupid was she? How clever of him.
“Miss Adams?”
“No, Linda. Nothing’s wrong.” Everything was wrong but she was sure Linda didn’t want to hear about it. “When the weather clears, send Nick back again.” And she’d fuck him just to get even with Rick.
No. She wouldn’t. Hanging up, Monica burst into tears. She didn’t want anyone but the fake Fantasy Man she’d sent away, and since he was a fake she might have misjudged him and the connection she thought they’d made. She might never hear from him again. Could you fall in love with a person in just one day? Or did it have to be lust? She had to dig out Jules’ book.
Sobbing, she beat her fists against the sagging door and it came loose from one hinge. Now she really needed a carpenter. Damn.
Rick stood at Monica’s front door, afraid to knock. He wanted to see her again, but she’d gotten ticked at him, and now he was pissed at himself. He should never have made that last comment. Should never have told her she ought to have checked his identity. She should have, but he was a fool to bring it to her attention since he was an impostor, and it was bad timing to bring it up after they’d made love half the day.
He raised his hand, still hesitant to knock. If she let him in she’d probably karate chop him or throw him to the ground and stomp on his balls, but he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind. And he did have a legitimate reason to go to her house. She’d hired Rick Mason, Carpenter, to make some repairs, starting with a back door. He was a couple of days late, but she said the work wasn’t urgent and her carpentry needs might be ongoing, so he’d wrapped up some small jobs first to get them out of the way.
He could have frozen to death waiting for a tow truck the other day but he couldn’t bring himself to stay in the house with her until AAA got someone there. And he was able to run the heater, but seeing her scurrying around the kitchen in a fuzzy robe with a soup bowl and running back and forth to the phone had turned a knife in his chest. He couldn’t have seen all that if he’d stayed in the truck but he kept venturing out to watch.
Well this was it. By now she’d probably learned the whole truth and there was no way he could persuade her to see him again. He was taking his chances with nothing—or everything—to lose. He’d parked his truck in front of her house today, but if she’d looked out she hadn’t acknowledged his presence at her door yet. It was a quaint little cottage that looked like it came straight out of a fairytale, but she took great pride in owning it and took strong offence at him saying she lived on a godforsaken piece of land.
He never considered himself insensitive but he’d grown cynical after he found Saranne in their bed with Carter. Nick thought he and she had an honest relationship and were friends if nothing else, but friendship doesn’t amount to a damn when the two people closest to you had sex with one another. Rick had felt disconnected in many ways since then. The other day with Monica, he’d experienced his first real feelings since. Then he blew it. She’d caught him off guard by getting all bent out of shape, and he’d said too much.
One hand on his tool belt, Rick knocked on Monica’s front door. The snow had melted over the last four days and he was standing in slush so thick that when he shifted his feet it made a sucking sound. Everything sucked since he’d made her angry, and he dreaded her reaction to his hoax. He just hoped she hadn’t screwed the real Fantasy Man in retribution … or for any other reason.
He knocked again and the door flew open. “Well!” Monica placed her hands on her shapely hips. “Do I know you … uh, what’s your name?”
She was as beautiful as he remembered and as defensive as he expected. “Rick Mason, carpenter.” He almost said ‘here on a job’ but that wasn’t his primary reason for coming and he didn’t want her to think it was.
“So your name really is Rick.”
“I told you it was and I never claimed to be a Fantasy Man. May I come in so we can talk?” She sighed and he noticed she had dark circles under her eyes. It had been four days of misery for him. His pulse speeded up with hope.
“Shouldn’t I see your identification first? Do you have any?”
