The Hungry Heart

by Brenda Gayle

  He reached into his pocket and searched his wallet for the scrap of paper with Ronnie’s cell phone number on it.

  You don’t have to do this. But he knew it was already beyond his control. It was the natural order of the world. All things begin and end at the same point.

  He dialed.

  Chapter 5

  Nora was running late. The man in the wheelchair trying to manipulate himself through the doors into the coffee shop wasn’t helping. She held the door open for him, but couldn’t mask her impatience as one of the wheels on the electric chair spun uselessly, unable to gain the purchase it needed to cross the raised threshold.

  “If you could just give me a bit of a push,” the man said, smiling apologetically.

  Nora shoved the chair, trying not to drop her bulging briefcase while keeping her purse from swinging forward off her shoulder and hitting him in the head.

  Why this morning?

  Finally the wheelchair made it over the threshold and rolled easily into the shop.

  “Thank you,” he said, giving her a wide smile. He was an older, Native American man. Nora noted that at one time he must have been very handsome with thick black hair, now peppered with gray, and a rugged square jaw. She could see the knot of a red-striped tie under the camouflage-patterned outer jacket he wore.

  “Would you like to go ahead of me? You seem to be in a hurry,” he said. “I don’t use this chair very often and I’m afraid I haven’t quite got it mastered yet.”

  The hand gesturing her to precede him to the counter had a pronounced tremor. She focused her attention on him. He had strong powerful shoulders, but his lower half seemed smaller, shrunken, and out of proportion to the rest of him.

  What was she doing? She’d had a lousy night, but there was no need to take it out on this guy. Her problems paled by comparison to the difficulties he must have to face every day.

  “No, please, you go first,” Nora said, hoping her responding smile conveyed regret for her earlier annoyance.

  This is all his fault.

  After Hunter had left the previous evening, she’d had a long soak in the tub to try to calm down. She felt her temper rise every time she thought about what he’d said.

  Who does he think he is?

  The fact that he’d been pretty close to the mark was irrelevant. So what if she couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone out with friends? She still went out. She’d gone out for drinks with Becca and the association’s accountant just before Christmas to celebrate the season. And next month they’d do it again for her birthday. That counted, didn’t it?

  Damn him anyway. It’s none of his business.

  Her work was demanding, but it was also important. If that meant some personal sacrifices, so be it.

  The soak hadn’t worked, and she knew she wasn’t going to be able to sleep. She’d pulled out and reviewed again the information Becca had provided her on the Texas Childcare Association and its executive director, William Bower. It was an impressive organization with a lot of money and influence. There might be some benefit to her Children’s Action Network if they could find a way to work together—some way that they could come out as equals.

  It was ironic. Nora had started CAN, but in order to be taken seriously and accomplish what she wanted, she’d needed the support of powerful people and organizations in the state to sit on the board of directors. Well, after ten years, she now had that.

  Unfortunately, Sylvia seemed unaware that the board’s role was to set policy, not delve into the day-to-day minutia of operations. Or maybe Sylvia did know and just didn’t care. Whatever her reasons, she definitely had an agenda in pushing this meeting with the Texas organization. Nora just wished she knew what it was.

  Nora couldn’t see how her small association would be able to shine next to the larger Texas one. And the information Becca had gathered on its executive director only exacerbated her doubts.

  William Bower had a reputation as a tough negotiator, but that wasn’t what concerned her. She had a similar reputation. It was Bower’s personal life—specifically his widely publicized love life—that concerned her. Still raw from Hunter’s criticism, she wasn’t looking forward to facing another man who believed he was irresistible to the opposite sex. She’d had enough of that to last a lifetime.

  Sleep, when it finally came, provided little reprieve from her jumbled emotions. Images came to her of Hunter’s body pressed against hers, sandwiching her between his powerful thighs and his sleek convertible. His hands were warm on her face, his eyes boring into hers, his head lowering, his mouth against her lips whispering words that she couldn’t make out and didn’t care to try.

  Her body was on fire as she responded to his kiss. She reveled in the blissful burn that scorched her skin everywhere he touched her. She could feel him moving against her, feel the scrape of the stubble on his jaw as his head lowered to nibble at the tender spot beneath her ear. She groaned and called his name. Hunter.

  Suddenly the head raised and she found herself staring into striking hazel eyes that were darkening with a passion she saw reflected in her own. The man in front of her was older, broader, and had dark brown hair. William Bower. She reached up to cup his head and pulled his mouth back to hers, but not before noting his self-satisfied grin.

  Damn him. And damn all men.

  Despite how cross the dream had made her, it still aroused her whenever she thought about it. She’d changed her outfit four times this morning, each time hearing Hunter’s criticism of her selection—too drab, not feminine enough, you’re kidding, right? Disgusted with herself for even considering his probable opinion, she’d settled on a smart brown woolen skirt-suit that she hoped projected an image of a professional businesswoman. Take that, Hunter Graham.

  “Tough day, Gary?”

  Nora’s thoughts skipped back to the present. The line had moved slowly, and the woman behind the coffee bar was now talking to the man in the wheelchair.

  “I’ve had better, Sue. How are you? How’d that son of yours do at tryouts last night?” he said.

  Nora was surprised by the familiarity between the man in the wheelchair and the woman behind the counter. She’d been coming to this coffee shop for almost ten years, had been served by the same woman for almost that whole time, and yet she hadn’t known her name was Sue. The woman hadn’t even asked the man what he wanted to drink—she just knew, like she knew his name.

  “I’ll bring it to you,” Sue said as she deposited the change Gary had given her into the cash register. He thanked her and maneuvered his wheelchair to a table in the corner. She turned to Nora. “What can I get fer ya?”

  “I’ll have a coffee, black, Sue.” Nora said. “I’m Nora Cross by the way, I work just down the street at—”

  “Oh yes, I know you, Miss Cross. You’re head of the Children’s Action Network. I’ve seen you interviewed on TV. You do some real fine work there. Would you like a raisin bran muffin this morning? That’s your usual.”

  “Yes, thank you.” Nora said, returning her smile. It felt good. Why had she never thought to chat with the woman before? When had she become so consumed with work that she ignored the pleasantries of basic human communication? “I’ll take the latté over to the gentleman in the wheelchair for you. It’s busier than usual this morning, isn’t it?”

  “No, ’bout the same fer this time of day. You’re usually here a lot earlier, that’s all.” She handed Nora a tray to carry the two coffees and muffin.

  “May I join you for a moment?” Nora said to Gary as she lowered the tray carefully onto the table while juggling her briefcase and purse with her other hand.

  Gary seemed surprised, but nodded and she slid into the chair across from him.

  “I wanted to apologize for earlier.”

  “That’s not necessary,” he said. “This chair’s a brute. I should know better than to try to bring it in here, but I need my caffeine fix.” He shrugged his shoulders.

  “Yes, I know. I’m runn
ing late and I still have to stop in here to pick up a coffee—even though I’ve already had a cup at home. I’m Nora Cross.”

  “Gary…Smith,” he said, shakily accepting her extended hand. “You look a little frazzled. Busy day planned?”

  “Yes, one I’m not much looking forward to. I expect it will be a long one.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Do you have to work late often?”

  “Often enough. But it’s mostly my own doing.” She smiled. There was something very calming in Gary’s demeanor. Perhaps it was the self-deprecating acceptance of his disability. She sensed no bitterness in him.

  “I really should be going,” she said, shoving the muffin into her purse and standing. “It’s been a pleasure to meet you, Gary. You’ve turned my whole morning around. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, Nora. I hope your day goes better than you expect.”

  ****

  “Jesus, Nora. You’re late.” Calm, unflappable Becca accosted her as soon as she stepped into the office.

  Calling the two tiny rooms occupied by CAN an office was being generous. Located over an army surplus store, it shared the second floor with a dentist who looked as old as most of the supplies stocked by the store below.

  “It’s only eight-thirty,” Nora said. “Most of the workforce doesn’t start ’til nine.”

  “Yeah, well you usually start before seven. I was worried when you weren’t here when I arrived. I thought something—” A blush crept up Becca’s face, almost matching the cherry-red stripe in her jet-black dyed hair. “Oh. I forgot. You were out with him again last night. How could I forget?” She slapped her hand to her head, fell back into her chair, and grinned. “So?”

  Nora felt the good vibes from the coffee shop exit her body. “We had cocktails with Libby Hunter. By the way, Representative Pritcher was there. I’d like you to call his office this morning.”

  “Pritcher? Did you talk to him?” Becca leapt up.

  Thank goodness, someone who understands. “Yeah, but we were interrupted. See if you can schedule a meeting for early next week.” She refused to believe Hunter’s assessment of the previous evening. She’d show him.

  “Will do. Oh, I checked with the airline and William Bower’s flight is on time. He should be here in about an hour.”

  “Good. That will give me time to return some emails and phone messages.” Nora paused on the threshold of her office. “Lunch is all set?”

  “Yeah, we’re all ready.” Becca followed her into the office. “So, are you going to tell me about last night? Is he as sexy as he looks on TV?”

  “It wasn’t a date, Becca. He knew how much I admired his grandmother, so he arranged for us to have cocktails with her. It was very nice, but I was home before eight and spent the rest of the evening alone.”

  “What’s he like? Is he nice?”

  Nora sighed. Was Hunter Graham nice? She hadn’t thought about him in that way—devastatingly gorgeous, sexy as sin, but nice? He had introduced her to his grandmother, but she strongly suspected Karen had somehow engineered that. She doubted he would have done it on his own.

  He had been kind when she had almost demolished his grandmother’s house, but he had been a cad to go through her clothes and insist she change into something more feminine.

  He had been attentive at the cocktail party, ensuring she was introduced to everyone and included in his conversations, but had later accused her of stalking Christopher Pritcher and being unable to have fun. He wasn’t not nice, but nice wasn’t a word she’d use to describe him either.

  “Don’t let your imagination run away with you. We have nothing in common and no reason to see each other again.” Nora rounded her desk and dropped heavily into her chair. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get some work done before Bower arrives.”

  Nora was so lost in her work that she stared in disbelief at the time on her watch when she heard a deep baritone voice in the outer office. William Bower was here already? How had the hour passed so quickly?

  She marked where she was leaving off, and closed the report she’d been reading. Then she pulled out the notes she’d prepared for the meeting, flipped to a new page in her notepad, checked to make sure her pen worked, and braced herself for battle.

  Becca opened the door to her office and announced Bower’s arrival.

  Nora glanced up at the man entering the room. No wonder Becca had sounded breathless. He was, in every sense of the word, larger than life. His photographs didn’t do him justice.

  As Nora edged around her gargantuan desk, she began to regret her decision to hold the meeting in her office. She had thought home turf would give her an advantage, but as she looked around the shabby, crowded room, she wondered if she’d made the right call.

  Bower was probably just over six feet, broad-shouldered and powerful like a linebacker. Without meaning to, she found herself comparing him to Hunter who, although taller, was leaner and would be more like a quarterback, faster and more agile. Bower had thick, curly brown hair, an easy smile, and those same hazel eyes she remembered from her dream. His eyes crinkled at the corners as his gaze ran up and down her body appreciatively.

  “Miss Cross, it’s a real pleasure to be here. I’m Billy Bower.”

  Her hand was lost in his bear-like paw although his grip was gentle. He was older than Hunter, probably in his forties. She liked that about him.

  I’m being stupid. What possible difference does Hunter’s age make to me? As she’d told Becca, their evening together hadn’t been a date—either time. Maybe she was just sensitive that she was turning thirty-five shortly.

  “Welcome, Billy. Please call me Nora.”

  “Well, Nora, I sure do appreciate you hosting me. I know it must be an inconvenience. I’m not sure what trouble our two chairs are stirring up, but putting you and me together is kind of like putting the fox with the chickens, isn’t it? Makes no difference who’s the fox and who’s the chicken, but you get what I mean.” He winked at her.

  Nora took a deep breath and tried to ground herself. Billy Bower was like a force of nature and she was afraid she was about to get swept up in his fervor.

  “So what do you say we make the best of it, and do what we XD’s do best?” he said. “Keep the waters calm despite the cockamamie ideas of our boards.”

  In the end, she was pleasantly surprised by how reasonable Billy Bower was. Despite the difference in their political ideologies, they agreed on many key issues as they worked toward a joint presentation to the federal senate’s education committee.

  She was impressed by how balanced the final document was turning out to be. Compromise had been required on both sides, but it had been accomplished without a lot of angst by either of them.

  She was surprised, too, when Becca poked her head into the office and asked if there was anything else she could do before she left for the day.

  “Oh my gosh, it’s almost six? I had no idea. Becca, you should have left before now,” Nora said.

  “Don’t worry about me. I’m not doing anything until later anyway. I may be a little late tomorrow. Is that okay? Jason and I are going to see that new band, Supersonic Sex Attack, tonight.”

  “Of course, you deserve it,” Nora said and returned to the report.

  “Oh, uhm, yeah.” Becca took a step back so she was standing well into the outer office. “Your sister phoned.”

  “Okay?”

  “Three times.”

  Well that cinched it. If Karen was that determined to talk to her today, she was looking for information about last night. And the only way she would know about last night was if she had persuaded Hunter to take her out. Nora wasn’t surprised—she had suspected as much—but the truth still stung.

  She turned to Bower. “What time is your flight back? I hope you haven’t missed it.”

  “No ma’am. I figured this would take a while so I booked a room at the Roundtree for the night. I’ve got a seat on a flight out tomorrow at noon.”


  He stood and stretched, his powerful muscles pulling taut the pale blue dress shirt he wore. It contrasted well with the tanned skin of his neck and the soft matting of brown hair that peeked out from where he had removed his tie and undone the top button of his shirt earlier in the day. “I think we’ve got a lot accomplished. What do you say we call it a day? We can dot the i’s and cross our t’s tomorrow morning.”

  “That would be fine. I’m really happy with how this is coming together. I think it would be worthwhile contacting associations in some of the other states to see if we can get them on board, too.”

  He nodded. “Do you have plans this evening, Nora?”

  “No. I was just going to catch up on some reading.”

  “Then will you join me for dinner? Since we’re going to be working so closely together for the next few months, it would be nice to get to know you a little better. More personally, I mean.”

  She felt her heart race as he smiled down at her. This would be the third time she’d gone out with a good-looking man in less than a week. That was a record for her.

  Stop it, Nora. This would be the third time she’d gone out with a good-looking man on a non-date this week. Despite the gleam in Bower’s eye and his reference to getting to know her better, it would be a mistake to think of this as anything other than a business dinner.

  “Sure. That would be nice,” she said.

  “Great, there’s a steak house right in my hotel, Prime, I believe it’s called. We can eat there.”

  Oh no. That was Hunter’s restaurant. That was a bad idea—very bad.

  “There are a lot of great restaurants in Santa Fe. Maybe you want to try one of the Asian fusion places? Or Mexican?” she said.

  “Well, Nora, no offense, but I’m a born-n-bred Texan, and I don’t take well to a lot of those lighter foods. I read about this Prime restaurant on the plane, and I’d like to see how New Mexico compares to our Texas beef.”

  Nora could tell by the way he squared his shoulders and placed his hands on his hips that he wasn’t going to be swayed. It was too late for her to back out. Maybe Hunter wouldn’t even be there. Sure, he owned Prime, but how often did he actually work there? She knew for certain that he hadn’t two nights this week.