Be My Valentine by Debbie Macomber Page A

you two get mushy last night. I like Steve. He’s fun.”
    â€œYes, I know,” she said, standing in front of the machine while the coffee dripped into the glass pot. Her back was to her son. “Let’s give it some time. See how things work out,” she mumbled.
    To Dianne’s relief, he seemed to accept that and didn’t question her further. That, however, wasn’t the case with her mother.
    â€œSo talk to me,” Martha insisted later that day, working her crochet hook as she sat in the living room with Dianne. “You’ve been very quiet.”
    â€œNo, I haven’t.” Dianne didn’t know why she denied it. Her mother was right, she had been introspective.
    â€œThe phone isn’t ringing. The phone should be ringing.”
    â€œWhy’s that?”
    â€œSteve. He met your mother, he met your children, he took you out to dinner…”
    â€œYou make it sound like we should be discussing wedding plans.” Dianne had intended to be flippant, but the look her mother gave her said she shouldn’t joke about something so sacred.
    â€œWhen are you seeing him again?” Her mother tugged on her ball of yarn when Dianne didn’t immediately answer, as if that might bring forth a response.
    â€œWe’re both going to be busy for the next few days.”
    â€œBusy? You’re going to let busy interfere with love?”
    Dianne ignored the question. It was easier that way. Her mother plied her with questions on and off for the rest of the day, but after repeated attempts to get something more out of her daughter and not succeeding, Martha reluctantly let the matter drop.
    Â 
    Three days after the Valentine’s dinner, Dianne was shopping after work at a grocery store on the other side of town—she avoided going anywhere near the one around which she and Steve had fabricated their story—when she ran into Beth Martin.
    â€œDianne,” Beth called, racing down the aisle after her. Darn, Dianne thought. The last person she wanted to chitchat with was Beth, who would, no doubt, be filled with questions about her and Steve.
    She was.
    â€œI’ve been meaning to phone you all week,” Beth said, her smile so sweet Dianne felt as if she’d fallen into a vat of honey.
    â€œHello, Beth.” She made a pretense of scanning the grocery shelf until she realized she was standing in front of the disposable-diaper section. She jerked away as though she’d been burned.
    Beth’s gaze followed Dianne’s. “You know, you’re not too old to have more children,” she said. “What are you? Thirty-three, thirty-four?”
    â€œAround that.”
    â€œIf Steve wanted children, you could—”
    â€œI have no intention of marrying Steve Creighton,” Dianne answered testily. “We’re nothing more than friends.”
    Beth arched her eyebrows. “My dear girl, that’s not what I’ve heard. All of Port Blossom is buzzing with talk about the two of you. Steve’s been such an elusive bachelor. He dates a lot of women, or so I’ve heard, but from what everyone’s saying, and I do mean everyone, you’ve got him hooked. Why, the way he was looking at you on Saturday night was enough to bring tears to my eyes. I don’t know what you did to that man, but he’s yours for the asking.”
    â€œI’m sure you’re mistaken.” Dianne couldn’t very well announce that she’d paid Steve to look besotted. He’d done such a good job of it, he’d convinced himself and everyone else that he was head over heels in love with her.
    Beth grinned. “I don’t think so.”
    As quickly as she could, Dianne made her excuses, paid for her groceries and hurried home. Home, she soon discovered, wasn’t exactly a haven. Jason and Jill were waiting for her, and it wasn’t because they were eager to carry in the grocery