Secret Fantasy

He shook his head and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I’m a reporter for the Chicago Tribune.”

Interesting, Merrilee thought. And as she looked into his eyes, she realized his discomfort was real. “Go on, please.”

He cleared his throat. “I’m coming off a relationship that ended badly. I was involved with a woman for the last two years but I wasn’t ready to commit. I didn’t tell her that though.” He ran a hand through his black hair. “Still, I thought things were going well—but appearances can be deceiving.”

“And relationships can be messy and sometimes unpleasant.”

“You understand.”

She nodded. More than he knew. She glanced at the thin band of gold and rubies encircling the third finger on her right hand—a symbol of the love she’d had too briefly and lost as a result of the Vietnam War. Her life hadn’t gone as planned, but then whose did? Fate generally took over. “How does your recent past relate to your present desire?” she asked Doug.

“My ex and I shared business and pleasure. We had fun and because she was well-connected in certain social circles, I trusted her information.” He shook his head, his frustration obvious.

“I take it she wasn’t reliable?”

“She was reliable until she asked outright when I’d be ready to get married. I wasn’t. But she seemed to accept it well, or so I thought. But she decided I was using her and fed me information that, inexplicably, I could no longer confirm once my story ran.” His lips twisted in a wry grin. “The typical woman scorned.”

“And were you? Using her, I mean?”

He paused, giving her question thought. That he didn’t answer her with an outright “no” told Merrilee he valued truth as much as she did.

He let out a groan. “At the time I would have said no. But looking back, I suppose half the thrill of the relationship was the personal—as opposed to professional—‘in’ she gave me to certain social circles and people I wanted to expose.”

She appreciated his honesty and nodded in empathy. “And now you’re here. So tell me—what is your fantasy?”

He leaned forward in his seat. “To make up for what I’ve done. I need to be able to look at myself in the mirror.” He drew a deep breath. “I need to know I can put a woman before myself.”

“So you’re asking me to…”

“Pair me up with Juliette Stanton, Chicago’s Runaway Bride. I know she’s booked to come down here.”

Merrilee narrowed her gaze. “And you know this how?” Because if he’d gone to the trouble to hunt Juliette down and discover information other reporters hadn’t, his agenda would bring Merrilee as well as Juliette Stanton nothing but trouble.

“A tip from someone who felt I needed to know. Look, that story I just mentioned? It involved Juliette Stanton’s fiancé. And I have a hard time believing her run from the altar was coincidence. The gossip rags are holding her up for ridicule and the radio stations are running contests about why she ran. My gut tells me the woman’s hurting and I’m the cause. I want to help her get past it.”

“And what of your journalistic instincts? How do I know you aren’t looking to expose her story like the rest of the reporters out there? How do I know you won’t use the information should it fall into your lap?” Merrilee’s business and reputation, and Juliette’s well-being, hinged on his answer and his sincerity.

She held his gaze, making sure she didn’t miss anything, from a tic in his jaw to a flash of guilt in his eyes. But all she discovered was his ability to look her head-on.

He raised his shoulders in a shrug. “You don’t. Any man you fix her up with can conceivably find out the same information and use it against her whether he’s a reporter or not.”

Merrilee nodded. He had a point. Anyone could potentially uncover the reasons Juliette had run from the altar and expose them for money or personal gain—something Juliette, the senator’s daughter and runaway bride had to know going into her fantasy. She hadn’t put any restrictions or limitations on who or what kind of man she wanted to fulfill her needs. Merrilee inclined her head and waited for him to continue.

He didn’t disappoint her. “Look, I’m here, I’m spilling my guts and I’m giving you my word—I’m not looking to hurt her. That’s the best I can do.”

Merrilee nodded slowly. “Tell me something, Doug. Do you believe in happily ever after?” Merrilee needed to know more about Doug Houston’s character and intentions before she agreed to any match.

His eyebrows crinkled and his jaw clenched tight, then he let out a loud breath of air. “Yes, ma’am, I do. My parents are celebrating their fortieth anniversary this year.”

“That’s wonderful, but evasive. Not that I’m surprised, since you’re a reporter. But do you believe in happily ever after for you?”

“If I found the right woman, and if she could put up with me, then yes, I do.” His blue-eyed stare never wavered, then obviously satisfied he’d made his point, he stood. “I won’t take any more of your time but I’d appreciate it if you’d think about my request and get back to me.”

“I’ll do that.” Merrilee rose and shook Doug’s hand before letting him go. He shut the door behind him.

She clasped her hands in front of her, on top of Juliette Stanton’s file, and paused in thought. Merrilee had been in this business a long time and based her decisions on experience, instinct and faith. She could deny Doug Houston his request, a risk he’d taken laying all his cards on the table. Or she could let fate take over.

Juliette needed to heal. Doug needed to atone for his mistakes. If Merrilee gave in to his request, while making Juliette Stanton feel cherished and special, Doug could discover he was a human being beneath the reporter exterior. He could realize that people were more important than a career.

And love was the most important thing of all.

CHAPTER ONE

“FIX YOUR SKIRT. It’s tucked under at the hem.”

Juliette Stanton sighed and shook out the ruffled bottom of the denim miniskirt she’d borrowed from her freer, more eclectic sister, and adjusted the loose flowing cotton top hanging off one shoulder. “This is insanity at its finest.” She zipped her suitcase closed and turned back to face Gillian, her twin. “Tell me again why you spent your hard-earned savings so I could take a vacation.” Juliette loved her sister dearly but didn’t want her worrying or pampering her just because she was going through a difficult time.

Juliette slipped the luggage tag into the compartment on the side of the suitcase, muttering as she packed and not giving Gillian a chance to answer. “Much as I appreciate the gesture, I don’t want a vacation. I don’t need a vacation. I simply need to get back into my life.”

Gillian laughed. “Exactly right. You need to get a life, which is why you’re going on this trip.” She placed her hands on her hips, wrinkling the cream-colored pantsuit she’d borrowed from Juliette. The twins had traded outfits as part of an elaborate plan to elude the reporters and get Juliette to the airport unnoticed.

Though Juliette understood the need for the charade, she hated the deceit. She shot her sister a disgruntled look. “I’m going on this trip because you cared enough to arrange it for me,” she said, her voice softening.

“And you have to admit, getting away from the tabloids and rumor mill has to hold a certain appeal,” Gillian added.

Knowing her sister was right, Juliette reached over and squeezed her tightly.

“You know I love you, too,” her sister said.

Juliette knew. If not for her twin’s solid support, getting through these past few weeks would have been impossible. Since the day Juliette had bolted from the church, the reporters had been ruthless, staking out both Juliette’s house and Gillian’s apartment in hopes of getting the scoop on the Runaway Bride. But no one outside of Gillian or the groom knew why Juliette had called off the wedding.

And no one would. At least not until she figured out how to protect her father and let him retire from the senate, his reputation and pride intact. At which point the press could have at Stuart Barnes and his shady dealings.

“So have you heard from the louse?” Gillian grabbed a pillow and sat down.

Juliette shook her head, emotion clogging her throat. Although she’d never say she’d been in love with Stuart, what they’d shared had been comfortable and secure. Too comfortable, she acknowledged now.

With hindsight she could see the reasons for her engagement. They were twofold and simple. Juliette adored her mother and father and idolized their loving relationship. They were wonderful parents who’d managed to keep a family intact despite the fishbowl in which they lived. Juliette wanted a stable family and comfortable marriage like her parents had. She’d believed she could share those things with Stuart, a childhood friend she thought she knew well.

And then there was the other reason she’d gotten engaged—the one Juliette hated to admit, even to herself. While neither her mother nor her father had ever asked for her to sacrifice, she’d always taken the expected road. Perhaps because Gillian had taken on the part of the wild child, Juliette, the older sister by a matter of minutes, had always seen her role as that of the good girl. So when Stuart set his sights on Juliette, she’d fallen into the relationship without question. Because she’d recently been hurt by a man more interested in her father’s name and connections than in her, Stuart who’d always been a part of her life, seemed safe. And because her parents liked and trusted him, they’d been thrilled and could claim “they knew Juliette and Stuart belonged together all along.”

But they hadn’t belonged together and if Juliette had looked hard enough, she’d have seen the signs. Yet she’d never questioned their relationship, not even their lukewarm sex life, which deep down she’d blamed herself for. Certainly her previous painful affair hadn’t boosted her confidence. Perhaps she’d known all along that if she questioned her decision, she’d discover she’d repeated her mistake. Stuart wanted leverage in achieving her father’s soon-to-be-vacant senate seat. Nothing more. Especially not Juliette Stanton, the woman.

“Earth to Juliette.” Gillian snapped her fingers.

She shook her head. “Sorry. Too much thinking going on. No, I haven’t heard a word since our confrontation in the church. But what’s he going to say? ‘Thanks for keeping the press off my back so I can take your father’s place in November’?”

Gillian sniffed in disdain. “He could say, ‘I’m an ass.’ That would be a start.”