Because a Husband Is Forever Page 2

  The smile on the woman’s face did not falter. “But I saw you.”

  About to ask where the woman could have hidden in the small, cluttered room in order to observe her without being noticed, Dakota heard the ancient grandfather clock in the corner begin to chime the hour.

  Ten o’clock.

  How was that possible? It hadn’t taken that long to drive up here, had it? And yet the hours seemed to have melted into oblivion. Had she been lost in her own thoughts that long?

  Her eyes met the woman’s in surprise.

  “You’d better start getting back, or you might miss your show,” the woman told her. Taking out a pad, she began to write up the sale. Surprised, Dakota opened her mouth to say something. Second-guessing her response, the woman’s smile widened another several watts. “You know, we do get all the major channels out here. Even have a computer or two around, although I don’t really like the annoying little things.”

  The comment seemed appropriate. The area seemed so off the beaten path, Dakota would have been less surprised to have stumbled over Rip Van Winkle than to hear that the houses were wired for cable or had computers in their living rooms.

  Dakota glanced at her watch. The woman was right. She had to be getting back before it was too late. She touched the cameo at her throat again, reluctant to part with her new acquisition.

  “I think I’ll wear it.”

  “Thought you might.” After ringing up the sale, the woman handed her a small pouch.

  Taking out her checkbook, Dakota glanced at the dark-green velvet pouch. “What’s this?”

  “It’s for the cameo. You can place it in here when it comes time for you to give it to the next person.”

  Dakota tore off the check, a smile playing on her lips. “After I find true love.”

  The woman nodded gravely. Her faith seemed unshakable. “After.”

  Moving the check along the counter to the woman, Dakota shook her head. “I don’t think I’ll be needing the pouch.”

  Picking up the velvet item, the woman pressed it into Dakota’s hand.

  “You will,” she told her with certainty.

  Dakota was still thinking about the unusual little woman and her shop as she parked her car in the underground garage beneath the TV studio’s building. Although her life of late had been a little bleak, Dakota found that she couldn’t suppress or erase the smile that had taken possession of her lips.

  Maybe she could go back sometime and have the woman—whose name she hadn’t even gotten—as a guest on the show, she thought as she entered the elevator. It was lovely finding unusual and interesting people. Most of the time, she was in contact with people who were hurrying through life much too quickly to enjoy what was around them or even what they’d earned for themselves along the way.

  “Physician, heal thyself,” Dakota muttered under her breath as she sailed into her dressing room. Definitely the wrong metaphor, she thought. Physicians were the last group she wanted contact with. But even that slip didn’t take the edge off her upbeat mood.

  She fingered her cameo, as if for luck, even as she silently scoffed at herself. The only thing the cameo was going to bring her was compliments. True love existed in fairy tales and, on rare occasions, in other people’s lives. People like her parents who were part of another generation. Somehow true love had gotten lost in this hurry-up world through which she and others found themselves navigating.

  As she gained her dressing room, Dakota nodded at the makeup girl who was in there ahead of her. Alicia’s face lit up and she went to work, although there wasn’t much to do. “You’ve got perfect skin tones.” It was the first thing the young woman had said to her when they met. “If everyone was like you, I’d be out of a job.”

  “Hi, Alicia, sorry I’m running late.” Not bothering to sit, she presented herself to the makeup artist, her face upturned.

  Alicia wasn’t alone in the room. There, biting her nails in typical nervous fashion, was MacKenzie. The second Dakota entered the brightly lit room, MacKenzie sighed audibly.

  “Oh, thank God you’ve finally shown up. Do you realize what time it is?” With one gnawed fingertip, she pointed to her wristwatch. “I was going to call out the National Guard to find you.”

  Dakota was accustomed to MacKenzie’s dramatic moments. They’d been roommates in college in California. Dakota, the blond, statuesque native, took it upon herself to show around the petite, dark-haired transplanted Bostonian. They’d come out to New York together to take the town by storm. Thanks to a few words Dakota’s father had put in for them with the head of the studio, they pretty much had.

  Dakota tilted her head toward the light as Alicia put on the final strokes. “They have more important things to do than look for me, Zee.”

  “In case you hadn’t noticed, so do I.” Without preamble, she took Dakota’s purse from her and flipped open the section where her cell phone was usually housed. “So, it is here.” To underscore her point, MacKenzie took the small silver cell out and held it up. Her tone and frown were both accusing. “The object of having a cell phone, Dakota, is so that people can call you when they’re in the middle of having a heart attack.”

  Dakota took her cell back and tucked it into her purse before depositing the latter in the bottom drawer of the vanity table. “I wanted to be alone.”

  MacKenzie pressed her lips together. Her eyes searched Dakota’s face, looking for a telltale sign that she was about to break. It wasn’t like her just to take off like that without leaving some kind of word. “I was afraid you’d do something drastic.”

  Close as they were, Dakota didn’t like to expose her feelings. Especially not when there was a third party present. Her voice lowered. “Over John? Please, I’m not some teenager.”

  They’d known each other too long for pretenses. MacKenzie had never thought she’d see her gregarious friend give her heart to any man. When it happened, she held her breath, waiting for a shoe to drop, praying it wouldn’t. But it had. With a resounding thud.

  “No,” MacKenzie said quietly in a tone that matched Dakota’s, “you’re a grown woman whose heart was stomped on by a big ape in combat boots.”

  Dakota waved a dismissive hand at the words. “Past history.”

  Glancing at her makeup artist, Dakota held out her hand for the lipstick she favored. Alicia dug the tube out of her makeup caddy and placed it in Dakota’s palm. Without benefit of mirror, Dakota did the honors quickly. Finished, she handed the tube back to Alicia and squared her shoulders.

  She was going to wear what she had on, she decided. “Now let’s move on to our present history.”

  But as she began to walk out of her dressing room, MacKenzie placed a hand on her shoulder, stopping her. “Small problem.”

  Dakota narrowed her eyes. “What kind of small problem?”

  “That animal trainer who was scheduled to be on the show—”

  Dakota nodded. It was Monday. She’d gone over the week’s guest-star list, skimming over their biographies and trying to get to know a little about them before she faced them on her program. “Fearless Frederick. What about him?”

  “Seems that Fearless was taken to the emergency room last night. One of his animals decided to challenge his title and took off the tip of one of his fingers. I hear Fearless turned the E.R. blue.”

  Dakota stifled a shiver, trying not to envision the gruesome sight. “Is he okay?”

  “They sewed it back on, but needless to say, you won’t be holding on to one of his trained snakes today.”

  “Can’t say I’m really disappointed.” Though she was game for anything, there were definitely things that went to the bottom of her list. Holding wriggling snakes and animals that viewed her as a substitute for lunch sank right down to that level.

  MacKenzie resumed walking toward the set. Dakota fell into step beside her. “Fortunately, I had a backup plan.”

  Dakota laughed under her breath. Her best friend had always been an overachiever. Had she
been on the Titanic, the diminutive woman would have found a way to float the ship to safety.

  “Never doubted it for a second. So, who am I interviewing?”

  “No!”

  The deep male voice rang out with dark authority that made the stagehand in the distance jump. MacKenzie rolled her eyes. “Him.”

  Making a half turn, Dakota temporarily abandoned her path to the stage and instead followed the single word to its source. Nothing like meeting the guest just before the show, she thought.

  She looked to her right at MacKenzie. “And ‘him’ being?”

  MacKenzie, shorter than her boss and friend by some three inches, clutched her clipboard to her chest as she lengthened her stride and hurried to keep up. “Ian Russell. Of Russell and Taylor, bodyguards to the rich and famous,” she added when Dakota looked at her quizzically.

  Dakota remembered the names. They were the former homicide detectives. The two men were scheduled for the end of the week. She decided that the bodyguard business must be slow to be able to get them on such short notice.

  “You come near me with that powder brush, and you’re going to find yourself walking a whole lot stiffer,” the man in the guest-star chair warned Albert, their head makeup artist, just as Dakota rounded the corner and came on the scene.

  Highly frustrated, the makeup artist rolled his small dark eyes and looked helplessly at Dakota. “Dakota…?”

  A wealth of emotions and entreaties were locked into the single intonation. Dakota rose to the occasion. Smile in place, she took the brush from Albert with one hand while placing the other on the annoyed guest’s chest. Dakota gently but firmly pushed the tall, dark, brooding man back into the chair he was attempting to vacate.

  Apparently caught off guard, the man gave little resistance. There was no doubt in Dakota’s mind that, had her guest star resisted, she could have jumped up and down on his chest with her full body weight and made no impression whatsoever. Unless he wore armor, her hand had come in contact with rock in human form. Splaying her fingers wider, Dakota wasn’t sure she even detected a heartbeat.

  “Hi,” she murmured, “I’m Dakota Delany, and you really don’t want to come off looking like Casper the Friendly Ghost.”

  Staring at her, realizing introductions were necessary, he began saying, “I’m Ian Russell and—” The rest was swallowed up as Dakota began to deftly apply powder to the rugged planes and angles of a face that could have easily belonged to Hollywood’s newest action star. Damn, but he was attractive. She could see women lining up six deep to avail themselves of his services. Some of which might even have had something remotely to do with bodyguard work.

  As she applied the brush in short strokes that seemed to vibrate down her arm into her own soul, her eyes held his for a very long moment. The magic she’d laughingly told the woman in the antique store she was waiting for felt as if it had just arrived.

  She found herself struggling, just for a single heartbeat, to remove the brush from the man’s face. But for that moment she felt as if the brush was an extension of her fingers. Very odd.

  “There,” she finally murmured, hardly aware of forming the word. “Done.”

  A deep laugh from the next chair brought Dakota back to her surroundings. Tilting her head, she spared a glance at the other man in the area. Dakota assumed the brown-haired, green-eyed man to be Randy Taylor, Ian’s partner.

  “I’m afraid there’s little chance that anyone’s going to mistake Ian for a friendly anything. That scowl was chiseled in when he was three days old. Been there ever since,” Randy said, grinning broadly. He crossed the room to her and offered his hand. “Hi, I’m Randy Taylor. I’m the reasonable one. And you’ve already met Ian Russell, my not-so-silent partner.”

  Ian’s scowl deepened as he rose to his feet and yanked off the makeup apron. He towered over the woman who’d just dusted him with something. “Look, you’ll be better off talking to Randy on your show. I don’t know about the ‘more reasonable’ part, but he’s the more talkative one.”

  Randy laughed, shaking his head. “He’s right. He’s as talkative as a tree when he gets into a mood.”

  Dakota smiled, remembering an old Broadway song she’d heard in a recent revival. It was from Paint Your Wagon and entitled, “I Talk to the Trees.” Suddenly she found herself wanting to talk to the trees.

  Chapter Two

  Moments before show time, Dakota gave her reluctant guest her brightest, ten-thousand-volt smile as she looked up into his stony face. “I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

  As she assured him, she casually slipped her arm through his. She slowly began to stroll in the general direction of the soundstage as if it was the one true destination for them all.

  It took a great deal of self-control for Ian not to snort at her remark. He was just as sure that he wouldn’t be fine at all, and he at least had a basis for the opinion. He knew himself a hell of a lot better than this blond woman with the electric-blue eyes did.

  This was all Taylor’s fault, he thought, annoyed that he’d allowed himself to be roped into this fiasco. Taylor was the one who had pushed for the appearance, claiming they could use the publicity that the syndicated talk show would bring them. Taylor was always in a rush.

  He wasn’t. As far as he was concerned, things were going fine just as they were. It took time to build up a decent clientele. Word of mouth was what did it—words from satisfied customers. A prolonged sound bite wouldn’t ensure success.

  Ian didn’t bother suppressing his frown as he allowed himself to be steered. He saw no purpose in making an appearance on a program like some sideshow clown, having a bunch of strangers stare at him and pass judgment. The audience wouldn’t care about his and Taylor’s credentials. They wanted sensational entertainment.

  That kind of thing didn’t matter in the bodyguard business. Nor did it reflect the hard work he and Randy did every day.

  Ian blew out a deep breath. He really regretted letting Taylor have his way in this. Even if the beautiful talk-show host did smell of something seductively floral and mind bending.

  Randy inclined his head toward MacKenzie as they followed his partner and Dakota. It took a bit of doing, given that there was almost a foot between them. “She’s good.”

  MacKenzie took great pride in compliments sent Dakota’s way. They were a team, she and Dakota, and each reveled in the other’s good fortune. It was she who had first suggested to Dakota that she become a talk-show hostess. If ever there was a natural for this kind of format, it was Dakota.

  She flashed a smile at the good-looking man on her left. “You don’t know the half of it. If she set her mind to it Dakota could get the sphinx to talk and reveal its secrets.”

  Which was exactly what made Dakota Delany such a hugely successful talk-show host. Her audience had multiplied exponentially since her debut four years ago. Friends called just to tell one another about it. Soon, everyone was tuning in, wanting to know what the party was all about. Her fans were legion.

  MacKenzie firmly believed that her friend had the kind of face people talked to, a manner that almost verbally declared that she could be trusted. And why not? With her easy laugh and quick wit, Dakota reminded people of their sister, their mother, their best friend or a favorite aunt, someone they could turn to in both good times and bad.

  It wasn’t so much the way Dakota looked—which was gorgeous with a capital G—as it was her manner. She seemed genuinely interested in whatever was being said to her, whether a guest was trying to explain medical science’s latest attempts to cure a major disease, or some Hollywood star expounding on his or her most recent misadventures. Dakota would always manage to get to the heart of the matter and extract the one thing that would make her audience sit up and take notice. Make them feel as if they were right there with her in the simple living room setting she’d made as her center stage.

  Every weekday at two o’clock, her audience felt as if they were being invited into her home for a friendly chat. W
ith good reason. Dakota made sure that the soundstage where they taped looked exactly like her own living room. Being at ease herself was the first step toward getting a good interview.

  MacKenzie watched her friend work her magic on the day’s reluctant guest.

  If the man beside her were any stiffer, he would have been a tree, Dakota thought. She could feel him champing at the bit to get out of there. She’d interviewed and talked to enough people to know that this man was not exactly a willing guest. She suspected that his partner had everything to do with their appearance on the show.

  Well, it didn’t matter how he had gotten here, it was up to her to make him feel at ease. Or as much at ease as a man like Ian Russell could be.

  Rising up slightly on her toes, ignoring the fact that MacKenzie and Randy Taylor were right behind her, Dakota brought her lips close to Ian’s ear. “This isn’t going to hurt, Ian, I give you my word.”

  The woman’s warm breath swirled around his ear, forging a path along his neck and traveling the short distance to his chin. Rather than calm him, the simple act succeeded in creating a sensual riot that ran amok through his system.

  Unaccustomed to being the one who needed to be assured of anything, Ian pulled back to look at her. “What?” he demanded sharply.

  “The interview,” Dakota explained quietly, never taking her eyes from his. “It’s painless. And it’ll be over with before you know it.”

  He really doubted that. He’d once been on a five-day stakeout, living in his car and subsisting on cold burgers and colder fries. Right now that seemed like a day at the amusement park in comparison to the way he felt about the next twenty minutes.

  Ian slanted a look toward the woman whose parents had named her after two states. Obviously they were one sandwich short of a picnic basket, just as she was.

  “We’ll see,” Ian muttered under his breath as they turned down the long corridor. He glanced at the photographs of celebrities hanging on either side and was completely unimpressed.