A Valentine from Harlequin

Charlotte’s pounding headache to make her want to escape for a breath of fresh air. Reaching the balcony doors, she opened them to find two people engaged in a passionate kiss.
    “I’m sorry.” The words escaped her mouth before she realized it would have been better to make an exit without being noticed. The couple jumped apart.
    Charlotte felt the blood drain from her face as she stared at her fiancé. “John! I thought you were dead!”
    The lead crystal glass of non-alcoholic champagne, with which she’d been about to toast the New Year, fell from her numb fingers when she saw him. It dropped right over the balcony railing without a sound. “I thought you were dead,” Charlotte whispered again.
    He turned slightly, dragging his hungry gaze from the woman in his arms, the woman he’d been kissing, to stare at Charlotte. She heard the glass shatter on the sidewalk far below. His eyes were so familiar—the parenthetic frown lines right between the brows—that it caused her to ache down deep in her belly.
    “Pardon me?” he said. “Do I know you?”
    Blinking, she realized what that frown was trying to tell her. “Johnny, it’s me. It’s Charlotte.”
    “I thought you told me your name was Michael,” the blonde in his arms snapped.
    “It is.” His arms fell away from the far more attractive woman, and he stepped closer to Charlotte, narrowing his eyes on her. “I’m sorry,” he told her. “You must have me mixed up with someone else. My name is Michael Drummond.”
    Why was he doing this? Pretending not to know her, calling himself by some other name.
    She took a step backward as he moved closer, shaking her head in disbelief as she stepped from the shadows of the balcony into the pool of light that spilled from the party going on inside.
    When she did, he froze, his gaze skimming down her body. She saw him flinch, saw the way his eyes widened only slightly, before he painted his face again with that blank disinterested stare.
    “Oh, this is just great!” the blonde said, because she could see her clearly for the first time now as well. She downed her champagne in one gulp and stomped between them and through the French doors back inside to the party.
    Johnny stood there staring, facing her.
    “I haven’t seen you since May first. The day we were supposed to get married,” Charlotte said. She hated her voice for shaking the way it was. “I suppose that’s long enough that you might forget a woman who obviously meant so little to you. But how did you manage to forget your own name?”
    He stared at her, and she could see the battle going on inside him. He parted his lips as if to say something, but then closed them again, his sharp eyes looking past her as another couple stepped out onto the balcony. “I’m sorry,” he said, speaking very softly now, clearly not wanting the conversation to be overheard. “You’re mistaken. I don’t know you. I’ve never met you before in my life.”
    She had to close her eyes to keep the tears from spilling over. But she managed to nod her head. “Fine. If that’s the way you want to do this.”
    She started to turn away, but his hand closed on her shoulder. “Charlotte…”
    She went still at his touch. God when he touched her it all came back, the passion, the love. She’d loved him with everything in her. “I thought I would die when you did,” she said, and though the words emerged as if wrenched from the very depths of her, she managed to keep her voice low. “I lay on your grave and cried until someone came and carried me away. I don’t even remember who… But what do you care? You don’t know me.”
    “I’m sorry,” he told her. “I’m not who you think I am.” He took his hand away.
    “No. You’re not even close to the man I thought you were, are you?” Stiffening her spine, lifting her chin, she walked to the French doors.
    “Are you going to be all right?”
    She paused with her hand on the door. “That’s really not your concern anymore, is it?”
    Then she stepped back into the party. Someone started the countdown to the New Year. By they time they got to seven, she had her coat in her hand and was heading out the door, into the hallway, and poking the elevator button. The doors opened instantly. No lines, no waiting. But why would there be? No one else would be coming or going at midnight on New Year’s Eve. Everyone was with the person they loved, sharing that special moment, that special kiss, beginning the