Читать книгу Seducing the Matchmaker - Elaine Overton - Страница 12

Noelle Brown was exactly his type. Derrick couldn’t seem to stop thinking about the woman. Even as he sat at the head of the long conference table, only partially listening to the conversations going on around him.

At the last minute, he’d discovered a glitch in the plan for the Marquardt Building. The engineering firm wanted their building to be the preeminent example of new-age design. They wanted their building to say something. A symbol of stability to their clients and an intimidating foe to their competitors. The board of directors for Marquardt had a bold and daring vision for their new building.

Unfortunately, their vision did not include the ten emergency exits that were required by state code. And now, Derrick and his team of thirty had to find a way to include the necessary exits without diminishing the overall appeal of the building. This was a potentially disastrous development in this crucially important project, and yet…Derrick couldn’t care less.

All he wanted to do was go back to his office and call Love Unlimited. He just wanted to hear her voice. He knew he had a valid excuse. He could say he was calling for an update. It had been a full week since he’d interviewed with Noelle Brown, and she hadn’t so much as dropped him an e-mail regarding the status of his case. For the first two days, Derrick had been in a panic, taking her complete silence as a bad sign. He’d wondered if she’d reconsidered taking him on as a client after he’d left the office and had decided against finding the match. After the third day, his nerves had settled. That was when his accountant had informed him that the check he’d written as a deposit for her services had cleared the bank. So now, regrets or no, Noelle Brown was stuck with him.

He wondered what she was wearing at that very moment. Maybe another one of those form-fitting silk blouses that gave a little but not too much. He closed his eyes and tried to once again conjure the smell of her unusual perfume.

“What do you think, Derrick?” He recognized the voice of Tom, one of his chief engineers. The thin white man was standing beside Derrick’s chair.

What the hell am I doing? She’s a married woman. Derrick blinked and quickly replayed the last thing he’d heard. When he told Noelle Brown that he did not share his women, he meant it. No matter how desirable that woman was.

“Derrick?”

“Yeah, it might work. But the fire-resistant standard metal doors that we use for emergency exits won’t fit that scheme,” he answered smoothly.

“What if we paint them?” one of his interns nervously offered from the other end of the table.

“Paint them?” Tom whined. “What the hell difference would that make?”

Derrick stood and touched Tom on the shoulder to still the tongue-lashing he knew was about to be unleashed on the poor, unsuspecting man.

“That’s one suggestion. What’s your name again?” Derrick asked. There were always so many of them coming and going, it was hard to keep track.

The young man’s eyes widened when he realized who was addressing him. “K-K-Kenneth Pike, sir.”

Derrick smiled. “Can I call you Kenny?”

Kenny grinned widely. “Yes, sir.”

“Derrick,” Tom interrupted, “painting the damn doors is not going to—”

Derrick put up his hand to silence Tom. “Kenny, Tom here is opposed to your idea of painting the doors to create an illusion of continuity. On the surface, it sounds feasible, but there is a slight flaw in your suggestion. Can you think of what it might be?”

Everyone waited, allowing Kenny time to discover his own mistake. Several of the architects there had run this gauntlet before. Having their brain pitted against the brain of the master. None revealed the answer, for they knew if Kenny discovered it for himself he would be the better for it. The next time such a discussion occurred, he would think the problem through, instead of just blurting out his first thought.

Derrick watched as Kenny’s face crumpled.

“The fire-retardant paint on the doors,” Kenny finally said. “We can’t paint over the fire-retardant paint.” Kenny slumped farther down in his chair.

Derrick smiled. “Very good, Kenny.” He winked. “We’re going to make an architect out of you eventually.” A few chuckles came from around the room.

Kenny hid a shy smile, secretly pleased by the praise.

Tom frowned at Derrick. “Derrick, no one appreciates your snatch-the-pebble-from-my-hand Kung Fu wisdom more than I, but we have to present completed plans to the Marquardt board of directors by the end of the week. So if you don’t mind—”

“Kenny, this is not the kind of architect you want to be, by the way.” Derrick poked his thumb toward Tom. A couple of playful affirmatives came from around the room.

“He’s not, sir,” Kenny said, with loving eyes for Derrick alone.

Ignoring Kenny’s smitten expression, Derrick walked over to the middle of the table, where the plans were spread out. Derrick briefly wondered if that was the look Royce Massey had seen in his eyes when Derrick was a young intern studying under him.

Of course it was, Derrick decided. No one had a greater respect and admiration for Royce than the young thug he’d taken in off the street and trained from the ground up at the request of his beloved wife. And no one envied Royce’s life more than that young thug. And now, twenty-five years later, that young thug was living the life…only not as well.

Despite the incredible wealth he’d accumulated over the years, despite all the marvelous structures around the city that were a testament to his great skill as a building designer, never did Derrick fool himself into believing he’d lived up to the legacy of Royce Massey. Never once did Derrick allow himself to believe that he in any way wore the mantle of greatness and dignity that even now enshrouded the memory of his idol.

Taking a quick look at the plans, Derrick made a decision. “Okay, here and here—” he pointed along the drawings “—I want a beam running the length of the frame, slightly overhanging. And then—” he turned the drawings, pulling up the interior blueprint “—we’ll put another structural beam here to support it, you see?”

Tom was peering over his shoulder. “Okay, I see what you mean. And the beams would also conceal the exits from the outside of the building.”

“Exactly.” Derrick nodded. By that time, Kenny along with several others had crept forward to examine the blueprints.

“Everybody got that?” Derrick quickly scanned the group. Once he was satisfied with their understanding, he pushed his way back through the group. “Okay, Tom, take the lead. I’ve got something I need to take care of. Oh, and Tom, I want Kenny on this project.”

Just as he was approaching the conference-room double doors, Derrick heard the voice of Kenny whisper, “He’s a lot nicer than I heard.”

“Don’t believe everything you hear,” a female voice whispered back.

As he walked along the plush carpeted hallway leading to his office suite, Derrick wondered just what Kenny had heard. He knew that rumors of his exploits, which were greatly exaggerated, usually made the rounds in the office. He thought he had a reputation of being a fair employer, but now he believed that his personal life was starting to put his work persona in jeopardy.

Not for the first time, Derrick considered just dropping out of the spotlight. Becoming a hermit and hoping that the media would lose interest in him. As quickly as the idea came, it was gone. For reasons he would not consider too closely, Derrick knew that part of him reveled in the attention. For a kid who’d been knocked around the system and basically ignored for most of his youth, the public interest was more than flattering; it was recompense.

He greeted his employees with smiles and the occasional nod as he passed through the open third-floor space that made up the Massey Architectural firm. Instead of going straight into his office, he turned into the adjoining reception area he shared with Camille.

“Morning, Marjorie.” He greeted the secretary they shared before glancing at the closed office door next to his. “Is she in?”

Marjorie shook her head. “No, sir. She called this morning and left this message for you.” She handed him a folded piece of paper.

Derrick frowned. “Why didn’t you give it to me sooner?” Derrick unfolded the note, remembering Camille’s slow, painful movements of the previous day.

“She asked me not to until your meeting was over.”

Derrick’s eyes quickly scanned the note.

Derrick, I won’t be in today. Not feeling my best. Camille.

“Get her on the phone.” Derrick balled the note and tossed it into the garbage can beside the desk. “And transfer the call to my office.”

Before Marjorie could respond, he’d entered his office and slammed the door shut. Derrick walked across the room and slumped in his waiting chair.

He was worried. He couldn’t help it. For Camille to feel bad enough to stay away from the office said a lot. Derrick could only remember her staying home a handful of days in the past year, and, considering her age, that spoke volumes about her strong constitution. Strong willed or not, Camille was still a seventy-year-old woman, and no one was more conscious of that fact than Derrick.

In fact, he probably thought about her mortality more than his own. Camille was the closest thing to family he had, and once she was gone…

His phone rang, and he snatched it from the base. “Yes?”

“I have Mrs. Massey on the line, sir.”

“Thank you, Marjorie. Put her through.”

After a series of clicks, Derrick heard Camille’s disgruntled voice, and it eased his troubled heart.

“You better have a good reason for waking me, young man.”

Derrick smiled, feeling more relieved than he could’ve ever explained. “Just making sure you’re still alive.”

“I’ll admit I’m not long for this world, but I haven’t left just yet. Now, why are you on the phone with me instead of in the conference room with your team working out the last-minute kinks in the Marquardt Building plans?”

“That’s already squared away. I was just curious as to what could keep the indomitable Camille Massey away from the office.”

There was a long pause, and Derrick waited patiently, knowing Camille was searching for the right words. He knew from experience she would tell him as little as possible. He also knew her reasons were equal parts her protective nature and her pride. And Derrick would sift through her explanation for the truth. They’d been together too long and understood each other too well.

“I’m fine, Derrick. Just tired, that’s all.” She sighed heavily. “I’ve been thinking about something lately.”

“What’s that?”

“Retirement.”

“Retirement. You?”

“Don’t sound so shocked. You knew I had to retire eventually—or did you expect them to just carry me out of my office one day? Besides, it’s not like you need me. You haven’t needed me in over three years.”

“I’ll always need you, Camille.”

“You’re doing a fine job of running the company without any help from anyone. Royce always knew you would be a wonderful architect someday, but I don’t think even he imagined you would do as well as you have.”

“But—”

“I’ve given that company my whole life, Derrick. Don’t I deserve to keep some small part of it for myself?”

Derrick was speechless. He had no argument for that obvious truth, except his own selfish desire for her companionship. Finally, he answered. “Of course you do.”

“It’s just an idea. I’m sure I’ll feel well enough to come in tomorrow.”

“Camille, I…”

“What is it, Derrick?”

“I just wanted to say thank-you—again, for all you’ve done for me.”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake, I’m not dying. Lighten up.”

“You can make jokes if you want. But we both know the truth. A lot of people wouldn’t have helped me.”

“What choice did I have?” She laughed. “When you came charging into the ladies’ room that day and stopped dead in your tracks when you saw me.”

He smiled to himself remembering the unlikely events that brought Camille into his life twenty-five years ago. “I wasn’t thinking, just running, I just didn’t want to go to that boys’ home, and I knew that was the next stop for me. After hitting my latest foster dad over the head with a chair, there weren’t a whole lot of options left for a kid like me.”

The other end of the line was quiet for so long, Derrick wondered if he’d lost her. “Camille?”

“Hmm, I’m here. I was just thinking. I’ve often wondered why you didn’t ever explain to the social worker why you hit him, Derrick?”

“What was I supposed to say? That waking up in the middle of the night to find a man standing over my bed freaked me out? I didn’t realize until it was too late that he was only there to tuck me in.” He huffed. “The last time I woke up to find a man over my bed, he wasn’t trying to tuck me in, Camille. So, I acted on instinct.”

“And you don’t think the social worker would’ve understood that?”

“Please, by that time I’d been in so much trouble, I don’t think she would’ve believed me if I told her I was black.”

She chuckled. “Well, it’s not like I did anything special. Despite your best effort, she did find you, remember?”

“But so did you,” he added quietly, remembering the day Camille showed up in the boys’ home to check on him. “You changed the whole path of my life, and no matter how you downplay it, I’ll never forget that. And…I’ll never be able to repay you.”

“Wanna bet? You just get the corrections made on those Marquardt building plans so we can submit them and receive our nice big commission. You’ll be a little richer, and I’ll be one step closer to retirement. It’s a win-win.”

Derrick laughed. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“So you tell me.”

He sighed in relief, feeling much better now that he’d talked to her and assured himself she was as spunky and contrary as ever.

“All right, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Derrick hung up the phone, took a deep breath and sat back in his chair. The winds of change were blowing, and he did not like their direction. But he also knew there was little he could do about it.

From the day he found her, Camille Massey had been the only constant in Derrick’s life. And the neglected little boy that still resided in his soul railed against the idea of her not being a part of his everyday existence.

He tapped his fingers on the top of the desk, trying to find a way to distract himself from his troubling thoughts. He considered all the projects spread on the small mahogany conference table on the other side of his office.

There were also a couple of job sites he’d been putting off visiting. That wasn’t what he wanted right now. No, Derrick knew himself well enough to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that when he was feeling this particular brand of melancholy blue, there was only one thing that could lift his spirits. He needed a woman’s warmth.

Unfortunately, he was not currently in a relationship nor was he the type of man to dip his wick in any available sweet pot, contrary to the tabloid stories. No, Derrick knew he was a one-woman man. The problem was, he could never seem to find the right woman…

He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and pulled out the elegantly embossed business card. He quickly dialed the number.

“Love Unlimited, Terri speaking.”

“Noelle Brown, please.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Brown is in with a client. Can I help you?”

“When will she be free?”

“May I ask who’s calling?”

“Derrick Brandt.”

“One moment, Mr. Brandt.” She quickly returned to the line. “Mrs. Brown asked that I take a message.”

“A message?” Where the hell are the women you promised me? How’s that for a message?

“Sir?”

“Just ask her to call me. I haven’t heard from her in a week, and I’m getting impatient.”

“I’ll give her the message. Is there anything else I can do for you today?”

Yes, you can tell me what your boss is wearing. Is it silk and clinging to her voluptuous bust? Does she still smell like paradise in a bottle? Is she happily married or just married?

“No, that’s all.”

“I’ll be sure to give her your message. You have a nice day, Mr. Brandt.”

Derrick hung up the phone and sat back in his chair. “She’s married. She’s married. She’s married,” he chanted to himself.

Determined to get his mind off Noelle Brown, or any other woman for that matter, he glanced at his worktable once more.

A few minutes later, he was on his feet and headed to the door. As he passed Marjorie, he called over his shoulder, “I’ll be out of the office the rest of the day.”