Читать книгу Meet Mr. Prince / Once a Cowboy...: Meet Mr. Prince - Patricia Thayer - Страница 10

“I’m glad you could come in this afternoon, Mr. Prince. I know you’re a busy man.”

Zach liked the counselor at his children’s private school. Celeste Fouchet had proven herself to be compassionate and intelligent, and she had a great rapport with the students. Katie liked her; he knew she did, even though his daughter didn’t talk about her counseling sessions at home.

“Nothing is more important than my children,” he said, taking the seat the counselor had indicated.

“I noticed that Katie is out sick today,” Miss Fouchet said.

“Yes. She’s got a strep infection. Dr. Noble saw her this morning and said we’d need to keep her home until she’s no longer contagious.”

“Well, I hope she feels better soon.” The counselor smiled. “The reason I asked you to come and see me is I’m still a bit worried about Katie.” Unlike some others who might have avoided his eyes or fiddled with something on her desk, she met his gaze directly.

In her gray eyes, he saw sympathy. His heart sank. He’d hoped the summons from the counselor had meant that Katie didn’t need additional help, that she’d finally accepted her mother’s death.

“I thought she was doing really well,” he said. “I haven’t heard her crying at night in a long time.”

Miss Fouchet nodded. “She is doing better, but she’s still not where I’d like her to be. She’s accepted her mother’s death, and she also knows no one is to blame, that it was the disease that took your wife, not anything she or anyone else did wrong. That’s a good thing, because for a long time she was secretly blaming herself.”

“Which was totally irrational.”

“Yes, but we all think irrational thoughts when we’re devastated by loss. Very few of us have objectivity in times of great pain.”

Zach sighed. “I know.” God knows that for a while he’d blamed himself, too. Why had he not seen Jenny’s symptoms so that he could have insisted she see a doctor sooner? If only he’d done this … or that … He grimaced. If only. Those two words were the most useless words in the dictionary. “What else can I do to help Katie?”

“Just keep doing what you’re doing: loving her and reassuring her anytime she begins to show signs of her fear of losing you, too.” The counselor gave him an understanding smile. “I know it’s hard. I know you want to make every bad thing go away for Katie, but healing from a loss like this is a slow process, Mr. Prince. It doesn’t happen overnight.”

“I know, but it has been two years.” Jeremy had seemed to snap back to his old self within months of Jenny’s death. Then again, he was only four when Jenny first got sick. He’d quickly adapted to the fact that his mother couldn’t do the things she’d always done, so her loss hadn’t affected him in the same way it had affected Katie. And me.

“Each of us is different. Some of us deal with these things better than others. In your case, you’re stronger than Katie … and wiser. For a girl, losing a mother is traumatic. And for a girl Katie’s age—on the cusp of her teen years—it’s life-changing. But your daughter is going to be all right, I feel quite sure of that. I just wanted you to know that we’re not there yet. And I wanted to tell you again now much I like your daughter.” Her expression softened. “Katie’s a special girl. She’s going to be a remarkable woman someday.”

Zach suddenly found it hard to speak around the lump in his throat. “She’s … very like her mother.”

The warmth in the counselor’s eyes said she understood exactly how he was feeling. “I suspected as much. She talks about her mother with so much … love and gentleness.”

Zach managed to get a grip on his emotions, but once he stepped outside and began the twenty-block walk home—he’d decided he could use the exercise today—that feeling of emptiness and loss returned with a strength he hadn’t felt in months. And he knew—sadly—that both he and his oldest daughter, at least, still had a ways to go before they’d be completely whole again.

“So how was your first day at work?”

Georgie made a face. “It was fine.”

“Georgie, I can tell just by the tone of your voice that it wasn’t fine,” Joanna said.

So Georgie, who hadn’t planned to say a word until Joanna had called and begun pumping her, spilled the whole story—how Zach Prince had showed up at the office so late, how he’d skipped out again without any explanation about where he might be going, how she felt even more uneasy about him now than she’d felt before—and then she even found herself telling Joanna how good-looking he was.

“Really?” Joanna said. “He actually looks like Patrick Dempsey? Gee, he can’t be that hard to work with, then. At least you’ve got something great to look at! I mean, he didn’t act obnoxious or anything, did he?”

“No.”

“Well, then? How bad can it be? Just sit back and enjoy the scenery for a while.”

Joanna’s comments caused Georgie to remember what she’d said to her sisters a while back when they’d started bugging her about getting married. “What?” Bobbie had said. “You’re going to go without sex for the rest of your life?” And Georgie had laughed and retaliated, saying she hadn’t said a thing about going without sex, that she intended to have plenty of lovers.

Now why on earth had Joanna’s comment about Zach made her think of that conversation?

“Speaking of scenery,” Georgie said, “how’s your romance going?”

“Chick’s wonderful,” Joanna said dreamily. “Oh, Georgie, you should try it.”

“Try what?” But Georgie knew.

“Being in love. There’s no feeling like it in the world.”

Later that night, as Georgie slathered moisturizer on her face in preparation for bed, she thought about her conversation with Joanna again. She was glad she hadn’t confessed the momentary attraction she’d felt toward Zach, especially since soon after that she’d discovered he was married. Georgie knew it wasn’t uncommon to be attracted to people who were out of bounds. Shoot, she wouldn’t be human if she could turn off physical reactions the way you turned off a TV remote. Still, the memory of her involuntary physical response to Zach’s smile continued to plague her even after she’d climbed into bed and turned off the bedside lamp, because it had been such a strong response, the likes of which she hadn’t had in a long time.

Her last thought before drifting off to sleep was that tomorrow she would redouble her efforts to be a perfectly controlled, perfectly businesslike employee. And hopefully, her future assignments would keep her well away from the office … and from Zachary Prince and his damned smile.

“You look beautiful, as always, Corny.”

Cornelia kept her voice light as she answered, although the expression in Harry’s dark eyes unleashed some unwanted butterflies. “Always the flatterer, aren’t you, Harry?”

He smiled. “I mean every word. No one would ever believe you’re sixty-six. Why, today you don’t look a day over forty.”

“Oh, please,” Cornelia scoffed. “Don’t exaggerate. Fifty maybe. But forty?”

“You’re more beautiful now than you were as a young girl,” he insisted.

The two of them were having a late lunch at a charming lodge-type restaurant out near the Hunt mansion. It was a typical Seattle winter day—cold and gloomy and threatening rain at any moment—but the lodge had a cheery fire going in their big stone fireplace, and Harry had secured a table close by the inviting warmth. And, of course, Cornelia had ridden to their lunch date in comfort and style, because Harry had sent Walter, his long-time driver, to pick her up in the Lincoln Town Car.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” she said with a chuckle. “For a seventy-two-year-old man, that is.” Harry was still as tall as he’d been as a young man—topping six feet four—with the hawklike features and thick hair that had always been the standard by which Cornelia measured other men.

He laughed. “You just couldn’t resist letting me know that I’m an old geezer, could you?”

“You know I was teasing you.”

His smile faded, and he reached across the table to take her hand. “Were you? Maybe you really do think I’m too old.”

Cornelia’s wayward heart betrayed her at the look in his eyes. What was happening here? she wondered. She was afraid to hope. For so long, she’d hoped to no avail. She couldn’t go through that again. She’d been disappointed too many times. “Too old for what, Harry?” she said carefully.

“Too old to try again.”

“To try what again?” Cornelia wasn’t going to make anything easy for him. Not after what he’d put her through.

“You’re going to make me beg, aren’t you?”

Cornelia refused to look away. Instead, she met his gaze squarely. Almost defiantly.

“Beg for what, Harry?”

“For you, Corny. For you. I let you slip through my fingers once. And that was a big mistake. Maybe the biggest I’ve ever made.”

“Yes, you did.”

“Well? What do you think?”

“What do you think, Harry?”

“I think we belong together.”

“I once thought we did, too. But you couldn’t wait for me to grow up, could you? Instead, you picked all those other women.” For the first time, she couldn’t hide from him the bitterness she thought she’d eradicated.

“Hell, Corny, I know I was stupid. I’m trying to tell you that. I guess my pride was hurt.” He shrugged. “I was young, too. I may have been smart when it came to electronics and computers, but I didn’t have much experience with life. Certainly not with women.” His dark gaze shined intently as he put more pressure on her hand. “Cornelia, I love you. I always have loved you. And I don’t want us to waste another minute. I want us to be together for as many years as we’ve got left.”

Cornelia’s traitorous heart was now pounding. But she was determined not to make this easy for him. He’d hurt her too much in the past. He needed to suffer a bit, too! There are none so blind as those who will not see. The familiar line from the Bible stiffened her resolve as she reminded herself of all the years of Harry’s cluelessness. If he really had come to his senses and wanted her now, he was going to have to work for her. “I might want that, too,” she said, “but right now, I’m not sure. I need some time.”

His gaze narrowed. “Is it that golf pro? Dammit, Corny, he’s too young for you.”

Cornelia yanked her hand away. “Is that so? Well, maybe I don’t agree.” She had half a mind to get up and walk out on him, even though their dessert hadn’t yet been served. She knew Walter would take her home. He liked her better than Harry, anyway. And how did Harry know about Greg?

“Ah, come on, Corny, stop it. You know we belong together.” Harry reached into his inside jacket pocket and took out a small black velvet box. Snapping it open, he showed her the ring inside. “I bought this for you. I want you to marry me.”

Cornelia almost gasped, but she stopped herself just in time. Sitting there was one of the most magnificent rings she’d ever set eyes on. A huge round pink diamond circled by dozens of tiny diamonds, it was set in what she figured was platinum—nothing but the best for Harrison Hunt—and it was breathtaking. The ring would probably overpower her slender hand, but that was Harry. He did nothing by small measures. Gathering every ounce of strength she possessed, she said quietly, “That’s quite a ring, Harry.”

“Is that all you have to say? I said I was sorry, Corny. I said I was stupid. I said loved you. I said I wanted us to spend the rest of our lives together. What more can I say?”

“Oh, I think you can say a lot more, Harry. And if you’re really serious, if you really mean everything you’ve said tonight, then you’ll be quite willing to court me the way you should.”

“The way I should?”

“Don’t sound so incredulous or I may decide I’m not interested no matter what you do … or say.”

For a long moment, he just looked at her. She knew she’d shocked him. She knew he’d expected her to fall at his feet. After all, very few people, and no women that she knew of, had ever said no to him. Harry Hunt had always been able to buy anything he wanted. Well, she wasn’t for sale. And the sooner he knew that, the better.

Finally he sighed. “You win, Corny. You want me to court you, I will. You want me to grovel, I will.” His smile this time was almost humble. Almost. “Because I really do love you, Corny, with all my heart. And I’ll prove it to you. We are going to spend the rest of our lives together, and that’s a promise.”

For Georgie, at least, Day Two at the office began earlier than Day One. Deborah had given Georgie a key, so she decided she didn’t have to wait till nine to get a start on her workday. Always a morning person, she was at her desk before eight and reading all the information she could find on the Carlyle Children’s Cancer Center. She was almost finished with a preliminary report on her findings when she heard Zach arrive. A glance at her watch showed it was a few minutes before ten. She stood, hoping she could talk to him before he got involved in anything else.

But except for a quick “Good morning,” and “It’ll have to wait,” in answer to her query about a meeting, he spent the remaining hours before lunch closeted in his office, where she could faintly hear him talking on the phone.

What was so important that he couldn’t at least answer a few questions? The longer his door remained shut, the more irritated she became. What did he expect her to do? Sit and twiddle her thumbs until he was ready to pay some attention to her? She’d already read everything she could find about every single funded and non-funded agency they currently worked with or were considering. The only thing she hadn’t yet attacked was the “slush pile.” She eyed it thoughtfully. She didn’t want to muddy the waters by reading through all those applications before she and Zach had had a chance to talk in more depth about the ones already in process.

Huffing out a frustrated sigh, she wished she were the kind of person who could pick up the phone, call Alex and tell him exactly what she thought about Prince Zach, the pretty boy with the questionable work habits. Finally, when her watch read 12:30 and her stomach started telling her it needed food, she decided she might as well go to lunch.

She debated knocking on Zach’s door to tell him she was leaving, then changed her mind. The hell with him. If he wants me, he can just wait till I get back.

She told Deborah she was going to get something to eat, then walked to a small deli a few doors away from her building. Forty minutes later, revived by tuna salad, cheese and fruit, she returned to the office and found that Zach was indeed waiting for her. In fact, he was sitting on the corner of Deborah’s desk and stood when she opened the door.

“I read your report on the Carlyle Center,” he said. “I thought we could visit there this afternoon. I want to introduce you to the principals, and I think it’ll be helpful to hear in person their arguments for the grant they’ve applied for.”

“I’d like that, but in the future, if you think we’ll be visiting one of our prospective grant recipients, I wish you’d let me know the day before.” Georgie knew she sounded stiff, but dammit, if she’d known they’d be calling on the Carlyle people, she’d have worn something a bit more professional. She made a mental note to make sure to keep a suit and heels at the office so she wouldn’t be blindsided in the future.

“Oh?” Zach seemed taken aback by her tone. “What’s the problem?”

“The problem is, I don’t feel dressed appropriately.” Today she’d worn russet wool slacks and a matching cowl-necked sweater. And flat shoes.

Zach’s gaze swept over her. “You look perfectly fine. We’re not going to some fashion house. It’s a hospital.”

“I realize that.” Men simply didn’t get it when it came to clothes. They always wore the same thing. Maybe that’s what she should do, too. Wear a suit every day and only vary the color of her blouse. But even though Georgie pretended she didn’t care about clothes or fashion, the truth was, she liked to look good. And she also liked the feeling of control wearing a professional outfit always gave her.

“You look fine,” he said again.

Georgie would have liked to say something else, but she knew if she did, she would just sound petulant. Worse, she’d sound like a silly woman. So she swallowed the smart remark and simply shrugged.

Zach, unfortunately, looked better than he had yesterday, mainly because the dark circles were gone from his eyes, and he’d obviously made an effort to tame his unruly hair. Why was it men could do the minimum in grooming and manage to look great?

“Oh, all right,” she said. “Just give me a minute, okay?” She wanted to at least brush her teeth first. Because a person’s smile was the first thing she noticed, Georgie was a fanatic when it came to her teeth—brushing after every meal, flossing nightly and making periodic visits to the dentist—usually between every assignment in the field.

Five minutes later, teeth clean and makeup freshened, she joined Zach, who again waited in the outer office.

“It’s a good two miles,” he said when they walked out of their building. “I’ll get us a cab.”

“I don’t mind walking,” Georgie said. “It’ll be good exercise.”

“The streets are messy, and I don’t want to be splattered with dirty snow when we get there.”

Georgie hated that she agreed with him. “Okay, fine.”

A typical New Yorker, Zach stepped right out into the street and stuck his arm out. Within minutes, a cab pulled up. Georgie had already figured out that when the center dome light was on, a cab was free.

When Zach climbed into the back first, Georgie was surprised. But she quickly realized that he was the one who had to slide over to the other side and that it was much easier then for her to get in. “Thanks,” she said.

“For what?” He leaned forward and gave the driver the address of the cancer center.

“For not making me slide over to where you’re sitting.”

There was that smile of his again. And dammit, it produced the same effect it had produced the day before. What was wrong with her? She didn’t even like him.

“I learned about that kind of thing a long time ago,” he said, still smiling. “I have a twin sister, and she educated me about women and skirts and heels.” He chuckled. “Among other things.”

“But I don’t have a skirt on,” Georgie retorted, just to be perverse.

The smile remained. In fact, now his eyes twinkled. “But you are a woman.”

And just the way he said it, Georgie knew he thought she was attractive, and her face heated. Thank God the cab’s interior was shaded. Oh, she hated her tendency to blush. She decided the best thing she could do was ignore the remark. “So you’re a twin,” she said instead.

“Yep.”

“Any brothers?”

“Nope. Just Sabrina. What about you?”

“I have three sisters.” She was surprised he didn’t know that. After all, all four Fairchilds had honorary seats on the HuntCom board.

“Younger? Older?” he asked.

“All younger.” Georgie didn’t intend to say more. More than ever, considering her unwanted reaction to him, she intended to keep their relationship strictly business. But he seemed so genuinely interested, she added, “But we’re stair-steps. Only one year between each of us.”

“Any brothers?”

“Unfortunately, no. And my dad wanted a boy desperately. That’s why we have the names we do.” Forgetting she didn’t like him and hadn’t intended to be friendly, she laughed and said, “My dad’s name was George.”

Zach laughed, too. “What about your sisters? Do they all have boys’ names, too?”

“Afraid so. Frankie—actually, Francesca—is named for my dad’s brother. Bobbie was going to be Robert, and Tommi would have been Thomas.” Georgie made a face. “When we were younger, we all hated our names. There I was, in class with a million Heathers and Tiffanys and Kims … and me with a name like Georgie. And, of course, being the tallest girl in my class didn’t help.”

“My sister’s tall, too. She also hated it when she was young, but now she realizes it’s an advantage.”

Just then the driver asked a question, and after Zach had answered, he said he wanted to give her a brief rundown on the two main contacts she would be working with at Carlyle during her evaluation of the cancer center. “Jonathan Pierce can be hard to deal with,” he began.

Georgie had familiarized herself with Dr. Pierce’s background that morning. A specialist, Pierce had sixteen years’ experience in pediatric oncology/hematology, had trained at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center and was board certified in both specialties.

“Why is he hard to deal with?”

“He’s a sought-after doctor who is highly regarded, but he resents the fact that the foundation required the center to meet certain conditions to be eligible for one of our grants.”

“But that’s standard practice with nonprofits, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Zach said. “Yet I can understand how he feels. Pierce is passionate about what they do at Carlyle. He expected to be approved immediately. Whereas Carolyn Love, the CFO—she’s the other one you’ll meet today—is more tolerant of our position, because she understands budgetary constraints and that we have a board to answer to.”

Just then, the cab pulled up to the entrance of the center, which was a division of Carlyle Clinic, and a few minutes later they were on their way to the third floor, where the administrative offices were located.

“I think it would be best if you let me do the talking today,” Zach said as they stepped off the elevator.

Georgie bristled. “Why?”

“Because, as I said before, Pierce can be a tough nut.”

“So? I’ll have to deal with him sometime.”

“I know, but it’ll be better if we ease him into the new relationship.”

“You don’t trust me, do you?”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s that I’m used to Pierce. You’re not.”

“Seems to me letting me take charge today would be the best way to get used to him.”

“Look, bottom line? He can be a bit arrogant when it comes to women.”

Oh, great. Fortunately, most of the men Georgie’d worked with during her time with the Hunt Foundation were the opposite; most didn’t care what your gender was, they were simply grateful for any help they could get. Of course, that didn’t always hold true for some of the bureaucrats she’d had dealings with. She’d often wondered why the least important political hack put on the most airs. The way she’d always dealt with these types was to let them know right off the bat that she wasn’t going to put up with any B.S. from them … or anyone.

“Look,” she said to Zach, “I am not one of those seen-but-not-heard women. And I refuse to pretend to be.”

Zach sighed. “I can’t stop you from talking. But it would make things a lot easier for everyone if you’d just back off a little. You and I know you’re going to be in charge, and Jonathan Pierce will soon know it, too. I just don’t want to rub his nose in it today, okay?”

“Oh, all right,” she finally said. “I’ll keep my mouth shut and let you do the talking.” This time.

Maybe the expression on her face gave away her thoughts, because he raised his eyebrows. “Why do I get the feeling Jonathan Pierce better watch out?”