Staying Single Read online

  With coffee in hand, Francie sucked in her breath, trying to fortify herself before bearding the lion in his den. "Good morning, Ted." She smiled sweetly at him—though it took some effort—and received a scowl in return.

  "Well, well, you really do exist," he said with no small amount of sarcasm as he leaned back in his chair. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd fallen off the face of the earth, Francesca."

  "I've been working on the Fielding account."

  "Doing what, may I ask? His book isn't even published yet. There can't be that much to do."

  "Since Mr. Fielding paid his money so promptly—" and saved your ass "—I thought it would be only fair that we begin work immediately on his campaign. I've been busy getting to know the author's background, familiarizing myself with his photography, that sort of thing. I want to do a really good job on this one, Ted."

  His look was incredulous. "And for this you missed several days of work? There must have been quite a few photographs to look at."

  "I've been working, but at home. I believe I told you that via e-mail and on several voice mail messages that I left on your cell and here. It's not like I've been having fun," she lied, crossing her fingers behind her back.

  "You seem scattered lately, Francesca. Are you sure that nothing is the matter? It's not like you to miss so much work."

  She sighed, wondering if the man was purposely dense, but knowing he was just plain annoying. "Everything's fine, except for a few family and personal problems."

  My mother's driving me nuts!

  Our client, Mark Fielding has proposed marriage!

  My sister is threatening to elope!

  Just business as usual, she wanted to say.

  Ted steepled fingers in front of his face and looked pensive for a moment. "I hate to add to your burdens, Francesca, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to let you go."

  Francie's mouth fell open, and then she got angry. "But why? I've told you, Ted, I've been working hard. I haven't even used up all of my sick time or vacation days, so letting me go because of a few missed days is just not fair."

  "It's not what you think, Francesca. The IRS is shutting me down. I have no choice but to let everyone go."

  "Damn!"

  "Exactly."

  "But what about our clients' deposits? Weren't you able to pay the IRS with that money? I thought you wanted Mr. Fielding's money to square things with them."

  Ted hung his head. "I've spent that money and more. I'm not sure how I'll make restitution. At this point, I just can't worry about it. It's likely I'll be filing for Chapter Eleven protection. My lawyer is handling things from here on out."

  "Not worry?" Was he insane or just stupid? "But I told those people they would be getting individualized service for their money. They trusted me. Now what am I supposed to tell them?" She was thinking about Mark, of course. He had paid a large deposit at her urging, and now he was in jeopardy of losing it all.

  "I know you're disappointed, Francesca, but it's difficult being in business in this economic climate. I tried to stay afloat, but it's just not possible."

  Francie bit her tongue, knowing it would do little good to lash out at Ted now, to tell him how stupid and dishonest he'd been for years, with other people's money. "I suppose our paychecks are nonexistent, too."

  "I'm afraid so." He pulled his wallet from his coat pocket and handed her five hundred dollars, as if that measly amount would make up for all the time and energy she had put into his business. "This is all I can afford to give you. I'm sorry. I know you've worked hard, but I'm no longer calling the shots."

  Francie took the money without saying a word, turned on her heel and walked out, shutting the door behind her. She glanced into the outer office, where Gloria, who'd apparently been given the boot, too, was cleaning off her desk. Francie knew she needed to do the same.

  "What now?" she asked herself, doing her best not to give in to the tears that threatened. Ted was definitely not worth crying over, that was for damn sure.

  The phone rang just then, and it was Leo.

  "Hi, sweetie! Just called to see if we were still on for lunch."

  "Lunch?" With all that had happened she'd completely forgotten about her date with Leo. "I just lost my job, Leo," Francie told him.

  "Congratulations! That job sucked anyway. We'll celebrate down at Pasquale's. No one can feel blue while eating Joe's calamari fritti. I'll meet you at noon, okay?"

  Francie sniffed, feeling blessed that she had such a wonderful friend. "I love you, Leo."

  "I know that, sweetie. And don't worry about finding another job. I've got an idea that I want to discuss with you."

  "Okay. I'll see you later."

  After she hung up, Francie stared at the receiver and shook her head, wondering what Leo was up to now. And did she really want to know? When her roommate sounded enthusiastic about something, it was usually time to worry.

  And what on earth was she going to do about Mark's proposal?

  "When my life sucks, it really sucks big-time," she said, tossing most of her stuff in a plastic wastebasket and leaving her old world behind.

  Leo was scribbling on the white tablecloth when she arrived at Pasquale's, looking intent and businesslike, which was totally unlike Leo, who shared Lisa's philosophy of live for today.

  "Hey, sweetie! Sit down. I've ordered champagne, so we can celebrate your firing in style."

  Francie set aside her purse. "I wasn't exactly fired." She explained Ted's situation, and Leo's expression turned grim.

  "I hope the Feds burn that bastard. I never did like him. And I didn't understand why you continued to waste your talents on that lousy firm of his."

  "But I loved my job. It was challenging, interesting, and I was getting pretty good at it."

  "Impossible. No one could love working for and with Ted Baxter. The man makes my skin crawl, and it takes a lot to do that, as you know."

  Nodding, Francie finally smiled. "So what did you want to talk to me about? You sounded excited on the phone. Did you win the lottery or something?"

  "I've decided to start my own interior design business."

  "You're kidding! That's wonderful, Leo." Francie reached out and squeezed his hand, her eyes shining with excitement and happiness for her friend. "But what made you suddenly decide to go into business for yourself? You've never mentioned a thing about it before."

  "It was something Mark said when I first met him."

  "Mark?"

  "He liked my ideas for decorating his apartment and asked me if I was a decorator. I guess the thought took hold, because I've been thinking about doing this ever since."

  "Well, you are definitely talented enough."

  "Yes, that's true. And I'm a pretty fair artist when it comes to sketching."

  "And modesty has never been a problem."

  He winked. "Hey, if you've got it, flaunt it, I always say. Anyway, I think you would be perfect as my associate. I'm going to need help getting the business off the ground, and I want you to work with me. Eventually, if things go as well as I think they will, I'll make you a full partner."

  If Leo had come right out and told her he'd gone straight, Francie wouldn't have been more surprised. "But I don't know anything about interior design, Leo. And I'm not particularly good at it. You've said yourself that my taste sucks."

  "Oh, pooh. I was just kidding. You've got tons of experience working with clients, and that's important. And you've been designing publicity campaigns for years. It's just a different medium. And something you can learn in no time."

  "Do you think so?" She shook her head. "What am I saying? I don't know if I want to become an interior designer, and our working together could ruin a perfectly good friendship."

  "Why? I'd be a much better boss than Ted Baxter, and I wouldn't try to pinch your ass or touch your breasts, not that they're not great."

  "Even if I wanted to accept, I've already had another offer that I'm considering."

  Leo's face fell.
"Don't consider it. I'll double whatever it is they're going to pay."

  "The job wouldn't pay a salary."

  "Pro bono work?" he asked, his forehead wrinkling in confusion.

  She shook her head. "Mark has asked me to marry him."

  "Whoa! I was definitely not expecting that. I hope you said no."

  "I haven't said anything, except that I'd think about it. And I'm surprised by your reaction. I thought you were pushing Mark my way. At least, that's the impression I got."

  "Oh, don't get me wrong, sweetie. I think you two are perfect for each other. It's nothing against Mark, not at all. I just want you to go slower this time. You've made that walk up the carpeted aisle three times. The runner has to be getting threadbare by now. And I'm running out of places to send you. But if Mark is what you want, if you love him, then you should marry him. And since Joyce is bowing out as your bridesmaid, I'll take her place."

  It wasn't difficult to picture Leo in pink satin and lace.

  "But what about your job offer? I thought you wanted me to come work for you."

  "So what? You can't do both? Since when does marriage mean you can't have a career? Mark would be the first to agree. He's not going to ask you to stay home and become a breeder. After all, unless I'm mistaken, he still thinks you have a career in publicity. Am I right?"

  "He does. And I'm going to have to break the news to him that he's just lost a hefty deposit, which he isn't likely to recoup. When he hears that, Mark will probably rescind his marriage proposal."

  "On the contrary. I think Mark will think that it was money well spent, since it brought him you."

  "Good grief!" Francie rolled her eyes. "I'm surrounded by romantics. There must be an epidemic going around. Cupid unleashed in Philadelphia."

  Leo laughed. "So what are you going to do about Mark's proposal, and mine?"

  "I'm willing to give your offer a try, Leo, to see how well we work together. It's too good an opportunity to pass up. But I'm warning you that I won't let anything come between us. Your friendship is too important to me."

  "Wonderful! That decision calls for more champagne." Leo filled Francie's glass, then leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Welcome to Designing Women. I loved that TV show, didn't you?"

  "But you're not a woman, Leo. I mean, not really. So the name doesn't quite fit."

  "Oh, sweetie, you're splitting hairs again. So it's one decision down and one to go, right?"

  Francie sighed. "You'd better order another bottle of bubbly, because I have no idea what I'm going to do about Mark."

  14

  Francie paused in front of Mark's door, sucked in her breath, which was minty clean because she had gargled with mouthwash before coming over, and knocked three times with a shaky hand.

  She dreaded having to tell Mark that his deposit money had just gone down the toilet, along with Baxter Promotions, and that it was extremely unlikely that he was going to get any of it back. But she knew it was her responsibility to let him know, since she'd been the one to pressure him for it in the first place.

  Damn you, Ted Baxter, you fornicating weasel!

  "Well, this is a nice surprise," Mark said upon opening the door, leaning down to give Francie a mind-melting kiss. "I wasn't expecting you until tonight. We're having lobster tails for dinner. I just picked them up at the fish market." He stepped aside so she could enter.

  Francie's feet felt leaden as she walked farther into the room, sort of like a convict on the way to the gallows. "I doubt you'll want to feed me after you hear what I have to tell you."

  His right brow arched. "I thought you wanted to take time to think about the proposal, Francie. It's only been a day. Aren't you going to give it some more time?"

  "I—"

  "And what are you doing home from work so early? I thought you had a meeting with Ted Baxter today."

  "I had my meeting with Ted. It didn't go very well. I was canned."

  Concerned, Mark stepped forward and put his arms around her, holding Francie close. "I'm sorry, love. Was it because of me? Have we been spending too much time together? I've been worried about that."

  She shook her head. "No. That's what I thought at first, too, but it wasn't that. Ted's been shut down by the IRS. He's not paid his back taxes, or any other that I know of, for quite some time. I guess the Feds got tired of waiting for their money."

  "I'm afraid that the deposit you gave me for your publicity campaign is gone, Mark. He pilfered the clients' accounts and spent the money on frivolous items such as girlfriends, hair dye." Viagra! The man could have drilled holes in the wall.

  "Did you know about his tax problems before I signed on?"

  Francie's face filled with color and she was unable to look Mark in the eye, fearful of what she would see. Disdain, anger, blame—all of which she deserved. "Yes. But Ted assured me that he would pay off the IRS and put his financial affairs back in order. I had no idea that he would behave so irresponsibly."

  "Or criminally."

  "Yes, that, too. He's going to file for bankruptcy, so I doubt anyone will get his or her money back, except the government. I'm so very sorry that I got you into this mess. I hope it wasn't your life savings that you entrusted with Baxter."

  "You didn't get me into this, Francie. I came into your office to see you, remember? I was the one who sought your firm out."

  "I know. But if I hadn't pushed you so hard to sign with us and insisted on that large deposit—" She felt totally guilty about allowing Ted to manipulate her into doing that. She should have known better. She did know better. She'd just been too spineless to do anything about it.

  Clasping the back of her neck gently, Mark guided Francie to the sofa. "You can't shoulder the burden for this crook, Francie. It's Ted Baxter's business that failed, not yours. You just worked there. And from the sounds of it, you're getting the shaft, as well. I doubt you'll get what's due you as far as salary earned, right?"

  "Ted magnanimously gave me five hundred dollars, which I'm happy to hand over to you, to make up for what's happened. I know it isn't much but—"

  "I don't want your money. But there is another way to make up for what's happened, if you're game." He kissed her cheek with such tenderness that Francie wanted to cry.

  "I'm not really sure I'd be a very good bed partner right now, Mark. I feel depressed and—"

  "I wasn't talking about having sex with you, Francie. I was talking about love, about the two of us get-ting married, about you accepting my marriage proposal."

  Her eyes widened. "You want me to marry you to make up for the money you lost?"

  Well, that was original. She'd give him that.

  "Like I told you once before—I'll take you any way I can get you. You already know that I love you, so I don't see the problem."

  Gazing into Mark's eyes, Francie saw sincerity and love and knew he had won. She just didn't have the strength to fight Mark, her mother or anyone else right now.

  "All right. I'll marry you. But you should know that Leo's offered me a position in his new interior design firm, Designing Women, and I've accepted."

  "Designing Women?" Mark arched a brow.

  "Don't ask."

  "That's great! I know you'll be good at it."

  "And don't say I didn't warn you about what could happen on our wedding day. There are no guarantees that this time will be any different than the last three. I might not be able to make it all the way to the altar."

  "Oh, but you're wrong, Francie. There's a huge difference. You love me, I love you, and I don't intend to let you get away this time, with anything."

  She was a bit taken aback by his vehemence. "That sounds like a threat, not a proposal."

  "It is, in a way. I'm determined that you will be at the church on the appointed day and time, suitably dressed in your wedding finery, and ready to say your 'I dos.' I may have to hogtie and drag you in front of the priest myself, but you are definitely going to be there."

  Francie's hand went to her pound
ing heart. She felt as if she was reading one of those romance novels where the hero takes the heroine and ravishes her— quite thoroughly, I might add!—then drags her by the hair to the altar, insisting that she marry him or face the consequences of his pulsing desire.

  Okay, so she'd read a lot of romance novels.

  "Well, you certainly sound determined. If I didn't know better, I'd say you had some deep, dark, ulterior motive for wanting to marry me."

  Mark got a peculiar look on his face, then, after a moment, he smiled. "I can assure you that my motive has been the same from the beginning. Nothing's changed, except that I love you more today than I did yesterday."

  "Remember what I said a while ago about not being in the mood to make love?"

  "Yes."

  "I lied."

  "That shade of green makes my skin look sallow. It's ghastly, so plebian. I don't like it. I think we should look for something else, Francie. Something with a little more pizzazz."

  Francie shot Leo a look of pure unadulterated disgust, ignored Lisa's widening grin, and asked the salesclerk at Jacob's Bridal—a stout, unfriendly woman in her sixties, who had more facial hair than Leo—to show them a few more bridesmaid dresses.

  Leo, despite his generous offer to wear a dress, would be garbed in a tuxedo, made out of the same color the other bridesmaids were wearing, as befitted his position as Francie's maid of honor.

  Since Joyce had bowed out, due to financial concerns, and her sister didn't want the position, because of the impending flight possibility, Francie had no choice but to accept her roommate's offer. A decision that did not sit well with her mother.

  "Who has a man for a maid of honor?" Josephine had wanted to know when Francie first informed her. "We will be laughed out of the church, not to mention excommunicated when Father Scaletti finds out that Leo is…different."