Читать книгу The Daddy Wish - Brenda Harlen - Страница 11
ОглавлениеNate didn’t usually have any trouble reading a woman’s signals, but while Allison’s words were denying any interest, the visible racing of her pulse beneath her ear said something completely different.
She didn’t want to want him, but she did. That wasn’t arrogance but fact, and one that was supported by the memory of the kiss they’d shared. A kiss that, for some inexplicable reason, she was pretending had never happened. He was tempted to ask her why, but he decided it wasn’t the time or the place. Because he knew if he pushed, she’d just walk away—and he didn’t want her to walk away.
So he picked up his glass and gestured to the plate in front of her. “Are you going to share that?”
She took her time chewing, as if thinking about his request. Then she shrugged and nudged the plate so that it was between them.
He’d eaten dinner with his brother, but she didn’t know that, so he selected a piece of bread and dunked it. He was usually a meat-and-potatoes kind of guy, but the grilled bread in the warm cheesy spinach dip was surprisingly tasty. “This is good,” he said.
“And addictive,” Allison agreed, popping another piece into her mouth. “Which is why I rarely come here.”
“Not because of the poor service?”
Her lips curved, just a little. “That, too.”
Her smile, reluctant though it was, stirred something low in his belly.
She was pretty in a girl-next-door kind of way, her sexiness tempered by sweet. Definitely attractive, just not his type. Or so he’d always thought. He’d had countless conversations with her, sat in numerous meetings beside her, and never felt anything more than mild interest.
Until the Christmas party.
When Allison walked into the ballroom that night, it was as if a switch had flicked inside him, causing awareness to course through his blood like a high-voltage electrical current. And he didn’t even know why. Sure, she looked different—but not drastically different.
Her hair, always tied in a knot at the back of her head at the office, was similarly styled, but the effect was softer somehow, with a few strands escaping to frame her face, emphasizing her delicate bone structure and creamy skin. Her eyes seemed bigger and darker, and her lips were glossy and pink, and deliciously tempting.
He wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen her in a dress before. Certainly he’d never seen her in a dark green off-the-shoulder style that hugged her slender torso and flared out into a flirty little skirt that skimmed a few inches above her knees. Or in three-inch heels that emphasized shapely legs and actually made his mouth water.
She sat with a group of coworkers from the finance department for the meal, and he found himself sneaking glances in her direction—trying to figure out why he was so suddenly and inexplicably captivated by a woman he’d known for four years. He saw her dancing a couple of times early in the evening. She seemed to be pretty tight with Skylar Lockwood, his cousin’s office administrator, and they looked to be enjoying themselves. The music was mostly fast and upbeat, with the occasional slow song thrown in to give the dancers a chance to catch their collective breath.
During one of those times, he watched his dad lead his mom to the dance floor. Even after more than forty years of marriage, they had eyes only for each other, and the obvious closeness and affection between them warmed something inside him. He’d never wanted what they had—and what each of his brothers had found with their respective spouses. And yet, he’d recently found himself considering that he might be ready for something more than the admittedly shallow relationships that had been the norm in his life for so long. Not that he was looking to put a ring on any woman’s finger, but maybe a toothbrush in her bathroom wouldn’t be so bad.
The vibration of his phone against his hip had him moving out of the ballroom to respond to the call. The name on the display gave him pause. Mallory was definitely not a woman with whom he would ever have something more, although there had been a time when he’d believed otherwise. Then he’d found out that his flight attendant girlfriend had also been dating a pilot she worked with, an Australian entrepreneur and a French banker during the time they were together.
More than a year after their final breakup, he had to wonder why she was reaching out to him now. And because he was curious, he answered the call. The connection wasn’t great, so he moved into the cloakroom—where it was a little bit quieter and more private—to talk to her. While her claims of missing him had soothed his bruised ego, he wasn’t at all tempted by her explicit offer to reconnect when she passed through town again.
He’d just tucked the phone back into his pocket when Allison had come in to get her coat. And in that moment, he completely forgot about Mallory and every other woman he’d ever dated. In that moment, he wanted only Allison.
And when he noticed that someone had pinned a sprig of mistletoe in the center of the arched entranceway, he couldn’t resist using it to his advantage.
“Refill?”
The question jarred him back to the present. He glanced up at Chelsea, who was pointing to his empty glass.
“Sure.”
The bartender nodded, then shifted her attention to Allison. “One more?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m going to head home.”
“Alone?”
“Yes, alone,” she said firmly, definitively.
“But it’s late,” Chelsea protested, looking pointedly in Nate’s direction.
“I live down the street,” Allison reminded her.
“Down a dark street.”
She shook her head. “Could I have my bill, please?”
Her friend looked at Nate again before she moved to the cash register to calculate the tab.
He knew how to take a hint—and he appreciated the opportunity the bartender had given to him. “I can give you a lift home,” he told Allison.
“I really do live just down the street—it’s not even far enough to drive.”
“Then I’ll walk with you,” he said.
“I appreciate the offer,” she said. “But it’s not necessary.”
“Chelsea thinks it is.”
“I don’t think that’s what Chelsea’s thinking,” she admitted to him.
His brows lifted at that; Allison just shook her head.
When Chelsea returned with the bill, Nate passed her his credit card. “Add my drink and put it on that.”
“I can pay my own bill,” Allison protested, but her friend had already walked away again.
“You shared your spinach dip with me,” Nate reminded her.
“I wouldn’t have eaten the whole thing by myself—or shouldn’t have, anyway.” But when he signed his name to the credit card receipt Chelsea put in front of him, she accepted that it was an argument that she wasn’t going to win. “Thank you, Mr. Garrett.”
“Nate,” he reminded her.
She slid off of her stool and picked up her coat. He rose to his feet, intending to walk her to her door.
“I’m just going to the ladies’ room,” she told him.
“Oh.” He sat down again, and watched out of the corner of his eye as she headed toward the alcove with the restrooms.
Chelsea finished serving another patron at the bar, then came back to him, shaking her head. “You’re too accustomed to women falling at your feet, aren’t you?”
He frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the fact that you just let Allison slip out the door.”
“She just went to the ladies’ room.”
“With her coat?”
He swore under his breath as he reached for his own.
Chelsea put her hand on his arm, shaking her head. “If you chase after her now, you’re not only going to look pathetic, you’re going to scare her away.”
He scowled at that.
“I thought you’d appreciate the opportunity to walk her home,” she continued. “But maybe you’re not as interested as I thought.”
“Just because you once dated my brother for a few weeks doesn’t give you the right to pry into my personal life.”
“No,” she agreed. “But the fact that I’m Allison’s best friend gives me the right to pry into hers.”
“Then why aren’t you talking to her?”
“I tried,” she admitted. “But she doesn’t kiss and tell.”
However, the twinkle in her eye in conjunction with her word choice suggested that she knew more than she was letting on.
“Neither do I,” he said.
“So don’t talk,” she said. “Just listen.”
He picked up his soda and sipped.
“She doesn’t date—or hardly ever, and she definitely doesn’t sleep around. So if you’re not looking for anything more than a good time, you should look elsewhere.”
“I don’t know what I’m looking for,” he admitted.
“Then you better figure it out. And if you decide you want Allison, be prepared for the obstacles she’ll put in your path every step of the way.”
“Is that supposed to be a challenge or a warning?”
“That depends entirely on you,” Chelsea said.
Nate considered what she’d said as he walked out of the bar. She was right—he could take her words as a warning and decide to forget about the sexy executive assistant, and that was probably the smart thing to do. On the other hand, he was more intrigued by Allison Caldwell than he’d been by any other woman in a very long time—and he never turned away from a challenge.
* * *
“Come on, Dylan. Your breakfast is on the table.”
It was the third time she’d called to him, and finally he wandered out of his bedroom, still in his pajamas, his hair sticking up in various directions. She looked at her sleepy-eyed son and felt the familiar rush of affection.
She hadn’t thought too much about getting married or having a baby before she found herself pregnant at twenty-one, but she’d never believed her son was anything but a gift. He wasn’t always an easy child—there were times when he challenged and frustrated and infuriated her, but she loved him with every ounce of her being.
As he passed her on the way to the table, she gave him a quick hug and dropped a kiss on the top of his head. “Good morning.”
“Mornin’,” was his sleepy reply. He settled into his usual chair at the table and scowled at the box of cereal on the table. “Can’t I have waffles?”
“Not this morning,” she told him.
His scowl deepened as he poured the Fruity O’s into his bowl, then added milk. “Can I have pizza in my lunch?”
“We don’t have any pizza.” She cut the sandwich she’d made in half diagonally and put it in a snap-lock container.
He responded with something that sounded like, “Idon’wannasan’ich,” but the words were garbled through a mouthful of cereal.
“It’s ham and cheese,” she told him. “Your favorite.”
“M’favrit’spza.”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full.”
He swallowed. “My favorite’s pizza.”
“We don’t have any pizza,” she said again, adding grapes and cookies to his lunch box.
“Can we have pizza for dinner?”
“You’re going to be at your dad’s for dinner,” she reminded him.
He shoveled another spoonful of cereal into his mouth. “I’sThursdy.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Joslynsgot—”
“Chew and swallow, please.”
He did so. “Jocelyn’s got piano and Jillian’s got dance.”
“Lucky for them.”
“Not for me,” he grumbled. “’Cause I get dragged everywhere with them.”
She wasn’t without sympathy. She could only imagine how painful it was for an almost-nine-year-old boy to sit around while his younger sisters were involved in their own activities.
“Take your 3DS,” she suggested, expecting him to jump at the offer.
“We’re not s’posed to have ’lectronics at school,” he told her.
She held back a sigh as she zipped up his lunch box and slid it into the front pocket of his backpack, double-checking to ensure that his rescue inhaler was where it was supposed to be. “Keep it in your locker.”
He shoved more Fruity O’s into his mouth, but he chewed and swallowed before speaking again. “Where’s St. Louis, anyway?”
She opened the atlas she kept on hand to assist with his geography homework and pointed out Missouri. “Right there.”
He studied the map. “It’s a lot farther than Washington.”
She knew he meant Washington, DC, which they’d visited the previous summer. “Yes, it is,” she confirmed.
“Why do you hafta go there?”
“It’s a business trip,” she said, trying not to sound impatient as she glanced—again—at the clock.
“When are you gonna be home?”
“Tonight,” she said. “And I’ll pick you up straight from the airport.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
He pushed back his chair and started to carry his empty bowl and juice cup to the dishwasher. She was trying to teach him to pick up after himself—an uphill battle, to be sure—but she decided that today wasn’t a day for lessons. Not if she wanted to get Dylan to school and herself to the airport on time.
“I’ll do that.” She took the dishes from him. “You go brush your teeth and get dressed.”
Thankfully, he didn’t drag his heels too much while doing so, and they were only three minutes behind schedule when they walked out the door. If the traffic lights cooperated, she might be able to make up that time on the way. But before Dylan climbed into the backseat of her car, she took the time to give him a hug and a kiss, because she knew he wouldn’t accept any outward displays of affection when she dropped him off in front of the school.
He didn’t say too much on the drive, and she knew that his mind was already shifting its focus to the day ahead. She was pleased that he did well in school, and frustrated by the realization that his success hadn’t led to enjoyment. She thought he might like it more—or at least hate it less—if he made some friends, but he didn’t choose to interact with many of the other students, except if the teacher forced them to work in groups, and even then, he didn’t say much as he quietly did the work that was assigned.
She pulled up in front of the school as the bell rang and watched as he walked up the front steps to the main doors. It seemed like only yesterday that he’d refused to let go of her hand on his first day in kindergarten. The years had gone so fast, and so much had changed since then. Now he was in third grade, and she was lucky if he bothered to wave goodbye when she dropped him off.
He did today, lifting his hand as he glanced over his shoulder before he pulled open the door and disappeared inside, and the casual gesture tugged at her heart.
Then she pulled away from the school and turned toward the airport.
* * *
The acting CFO was already at the gate when Allison arrived.
Nate offered her a smile and a large coffee. “Cream only.”
She didn’t ask how he knew, she just accepted it gratefully. “Thanks.”
As she sipped her coffee, she tried to focus on what she’d told her son—that this was a business trip, not unlike so many other business trips she’d made with John Garrett in the past. Except that this time she was traveling with her boss’s nephew, and the memory of that one stolen kiss was still far too vivid in her mind.
When they boarded the plane, she was grateful that flying business class meant they wouldn’t be sitting as close together as they would if they were in coach. Although Nathan didn’t have the same girth across his belly as his uncle, he was a couple inches taller, his shoulders were broader and his legs were longer.
He paused at the aisle to let her precede him.
“You don’t want the window seat?”
“No, I like the aisle.”
“Oh. Okay.” She slipped past him and into her seat.
He settled beside her and buckled his belt.
His choice of aisle over window wasn’t a big deal, except that she couldn’t help feeling as if she was trapped between the wall and Nate’s body. Nate’s long, lean and delicious-smelling body.
She tried to ignore his proximity, but every time she drew in a breath, she inhaled his scent and felt a little quiver low in her belly.
Seriously, the man was dangerous to her peace of mind.
While everyone else was boarding, she kept her attention focused on her tablet, checking her calendar for the dates and times of meetings in the next couple of weeks. Nate, she noted, was reading a newspaper, but he tucked it away when the flight attendant began to review the safety procedures of the aircraft.
Most of the passengers in business class were frequent fliers who probably knew the spiel as well as the staff, and she didn’t doubt that he was one of them, but he gave the flight attendant his attention anyway. Or maybe it had nothing to do with the safety procedures and everything to do with her big...smile.
When the presentation was finished, he turned to Allison. “Are we being picked up at the airport?”
She shook her head. “John always preferred to have a rental car rather than be at the mercy of someone else’s schedule. I didn’t think to ask what arrangements you wanted made.”
“I would have told you to make the usual arrangements,” he said, and smiled.
And damn if that smile didn’t make her toes want to curl.
In an effort to refocus her thoughts, she said, “Did you want to review any of your uncle’s notes before the meeting?”
“I did that last night.”
“Do you have any questions?”
He shifted in his seat, so that he was facing her more fully. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
“Okay.”
“Why are you pretending that nothing happened at the Christmas party?”
She felt color climb up her neck and into her cheeks. So much for her determination to stay focused on business. “I meant—do you have any questions about the meeting?”
“No,” he said. “But I want to know why you’re pretending the kiss we shared never happened.”
Since he obviously wasn’t going to let her ignore his question, she decided to answer it succinctly and dismissively. “Not making a big deal out of it isn’t the same as pretending it never happened.”
“So you do remember it?”
She scrolled through the notes on her tablet. “I remember that it was late, there was mistletoe, we both had a little too much to drink and got caught up in the spirit of the holiday.”
“Do you want to know how I remember it?”
“I’m actually a little surprised that you do.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“I would have thought your sojourn with Melanie would have eradicated one meaningless little kiss from your mind,” she said.
“Let’s put aside the inaccuracy of your description until after you explain who the hell Melanie is.”
“Melanie Hedley,” she said.
“The name sounds vaguely familiar,” he admitted.
“Perky blonde, works in marketing.”
His confusion finally cleared. “You mean Lanie?”
“Yeah, I guess I have heard some people call her Lanie.”
“And the sojourn?” he prompted.
“Your ski trip.”
He shook his head definitively. “I didn’t go with Lanie.”
“And yet she couldn’t stop talking about the wonderful lunch you had at a fabulous little café by your hotel.”
“We did have lunch together one day,” he admitted. “I ran into her in the lobby of the hotel when I was heading out to grab a bite and invited her to join me. It wasn’t anything more than that.”
“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” she told him.
“Apparently I do,” he said. Because he could tell by the tone of her voice that she’d arrived at her own—and obviously erroneous—conclusions. “Do you really think I was sleeping with another woman the night after I kissed you?”
“I really didn’t give it much thought at all,” she said, shifting her gaze to the clouds outside the window.
If he hadn’t already suspected that she was lying, her refusal to even look at him would have triggered his suspicion. “Yes, I went away with some friends. And yes, I received a couple of offers to hook up while I was there.
“But I didn’t consider any of them for more than two seconds—” he shifted so that his shoulder brushed against hers, and lowered his mouth closer to her ear “—because since that kiss we shared under the mistletoe, I haven’t been able to go much longer than that without thinking about you.
“And when I think about that kiss, I remember how good your body felt against mine, and how surprised—and incredibly turned on—I was by the passion of your response.”
“You’re right,” she said shortly. “Our memories are different. But considering that we’re going to be working closely together, I think it would be best if we both just forgot about that kiss.”
“I already know that I can’t,” he told her.
“Maybe you just need to try a little harder.”
“Are you saying that you have forgotten?”
“I’m saying that I’m not going to let anything interfere with our working relationship.”
“I know how to separate business from pleasure,” he assured her.
“Let’s keep the focus on business,” she suggested.
“That doesn’t sound like nearly as much fun.”
“I like my job and I want to keep my job,” she told him. “Which means I’m definitely not going to sleep with my boss.”
His lips curved. “I’m not your boss yet.”
She lifted a brow. “Your point?”
“We could use the next few weeks to get this...attraction...out of our systems, so that it won’t be an impediment to our working together.”
“Thank you for that uniquely intriguing offer,” she said primly, “but no.”
* * *
Despite his blatant flirtation on the plane, when they got to the St. Louis store and started to review the books, Nathan proved that he did know how to separate business from pleasure.
Allison was impressed by his knowledge of the company’s history and employees and the diligence of his work. She hadn’t assumed he was moving into the CFO’s office because his name was Garrett, but she had suspected the familial connection had paved the way. Watching him work, she realized that had been her error. Nate was going to be the new CFO because he was the most qualified person for the job.
Still, it took several hours before the discrepancy was found. Working together to match invoices to payment receipts, it became apparent to both Nate and Allison that some numbers had been transposed when the deposit was made. Instead of $53,642 being deposited, the amount was noted as $35,264—a deficit of $18,378. But what seemed like a simple accounting error was further complicated by the facts that the payment had been made in cash (apparently office furniture for an upstart law firm that didn’t yet have a checking account) and no one seemed to know where the $18,378 had gone—or they weren’t admitting it if they did.
To a company that did hundreds of millions of dollars in business annually, the amount was hardly significant. But the misplacement of any funds, whether careless or deliberate, was unacceptable from an accounting perspective. The head of the store’s finance department agreed and promised to locate the missing money before the end of the week.
“I’m surprised you’re going to leave it for Bob to deal with,” Allison said when they’d left the man’s office.
“They’re his people,” Nate said. “And I have no doubt he already knows who is responsible for making that eighteen thousand dollars disappear.”
“So you don’t think it was a mistake?”
“I would have believed the transposing of the digits was a mistake if the correct amount had actually been deposited—the fact that it wasn’t proves otherwise.”
“You don’t want to know who did it?”
“I will know,” he said confidently. “But I don’t need to know today.”
“In that case—” she glanced at her watch as they made their way toward the exit “—we should be able to get to the airport in time to catch an earlier flight back to Raleigh.”
“That would be good.” He stopped to pull his phone out of his pocket and frowned at the message he read. “But I don’t think it’s going to happen.”
“Why not?”
“Apparently a storm has moved into this area. I just got a notification from the airline that our flight has been delayed.”
She pulled out her phone and found that she’d received the same message. “There has to be a mistake—the forecast was clear.”
“Then the forecast was wrong.”
She halted beside him at the glass doors and blinked, as if she didn’t quite believe what she was seeing. Or rather not seeing, since the blowing snow made it impossible to see anything past it.
Nate was focused on his phone, checking for updates from the airline. “All flights are canceled for the next twelve hours.”
“So what are we supposed to do?” She couldn’t help but think of the promise she’d made to Dylan that morning.
“Find a hotel,” he said easily. “Hopefully one that isn’t too far away from where we are right now.”
“A hotel?” she echoed.
“Unless you want to bunk down here?”
“Of course not.” What she wanted was to be back in Charisma, in her own apartment with her son—not stranded in St. Louis, and especially not with a man who made her feel nothing but heat despite the obviously frigid temperatures outside.
“There’s a Courtland not too far from here,” he said. “Let me just give them a call and see if we can get a room.”
“Two rooms.”
But the room situation wasn’t really her biggest concern—nor was the fact that she hadn’t packed an overnight bag. She was more worried about the fact that she hadn’t packed anything for Dylan. Of course, her ex-husband knew that Mrs. Hanson, the widow who lived across the hall from Allison and Dylan, had a spare key and could let him in to get whatever he needed. She just wasn’t sure that Jeff would know what their son needed.
Did he know that Dylan had specific pajamas that he liked to wear when he stayed at his dad’s house? Would he remember to pack Bear, the little boy’s ancient and much-loved teddy bear? Would he make sure that Dylan did his homework? Would he remember to pack his lunch for the next day? She worried about all of those details while Nathan made a phone call to secure their hotel rooms.
Less than five minutes later, they battled the blowing snow and howling wind toward their rental car in the parking lot. Despite the wild weather, Nate went around to the passenger side to open the door for her, an unexpectedly chivalrous gesture that reminded her there was more to the man than his reputation implied.
She slid into her seat and buckled up, aware that the roads were going to be icy and slick—and still not nearly as dangerous as spending the night in a hotel with Nathan Garrett.
