Surrogate Dad

by Marion Smith Collins

  “You think maybe someone did this because he or she doesn’t like being laughed at?” She straightened, began to pace in short bursts of energy. “Do you?” she demanded, stopping abruptly, feet apart.

  He frowned, took a step toward her as though to comfort her. Stopped. The movement had put his face in shadow. “Hell, I don’t know,” he said finally, with an explosive sigh.

  Her voice climbed the scale with each word. “I don’t know, either, but I tell you, it makes me damned mad that someone could enter a patrolled complex, and brazenly—” she waved her hand “—break into another person’s home. All for a TV and stereo that are almost as old as David.” She planted her fists on her trim hips. She was breathing fast, like a runner at the end of the Peachtree Road Race. “Why? Tell me that. Why?”

  Luke’s heartbeat accelerated as he stared at her, suddenly realizing that this woman was not merely angry, she was mad as hell. And she was magnificent. This emotion was totally different from the little bout of irritation she’d shown when she thought he was criticizing her drawings.

  No, this was passionate anger, and she was glorious in its throes. Beneath the shadowing bill of the baseball cap, her emerald eyes flashed like hot lightning. Her chin rose to a dangerous angle, and a muscle in her jaw pulsated. Luke caught himself before he laughed in admiration.

  Her fear and vulnerability had dissolved totally, swept away by the healing wind of outrage. He wasn’t a psychiatrist but he would imagine the evolution was normal, and the angry emotion, healthier.

  She came to a halt near her door and stood glaring as though she could see through the wood. “Why?” she repeated after a moment. Her breathing had slowed and she was speaking at her normal level now.

  “What motivates any criminal nowadays?” Luke said, then he stopped.

  Her anger had been spent. He didn’t want her to become depressed again. When he spoke again, his attitude was practical, realistic. “I think you and David were lucky not to have been at home.” He went on, hoping to add calm to the equation, “Your delay at the Varsity might have prevented a dangerous confrontation.”

  “I realize that.” She shuddered. When he saw her slender shoulders move, he felt a qualm. He hoped he hadn’t reintroduced her fears.

  She seemed okay. “I still feel that taking the sketchbooks was an odd thing to do. And I’ll probably never know why.” She straightened. “Well, I guess I’d better go in. Thank you again for entertaining David and for the coffee.”

  “Would you like to have dinner some night?” Luke asked out of the blue.

  Suddenly, he sensed genuine withdrawal. “You’re very kind, but I don’t date,” she said formally.

  Which was a damned lie, Luke thought, annoyed as he watched her disappear into her condo. She’d gone out with West Chadwick twice that he knew of.

  Why had she lied? Alexandra asked herself angrily. She never lied. He’d probably seen her leaving for dinner with West.

  Why the hell had he even asked? Luke wondered. Of course, he knew the answer. The feeling of warmth he experienced when she blinked her heavy lashes and turned those emerald eyes on him. And simple lust, arising from those early-morning glimpses of long legs, full breasts, mussed hair and that damned purple teddy.

  Since they were both early risers, he’d gotten into the habit of checking at the window each morning, like some crazy Tom, peeping out instead of in. He would break that habit beginning tomorrow.

  He could dismiss Alexandra Prescott easily from his mind. She wasn’t even his type. He liked women who smiled a lot, who were warm and passionate, who weren’t afraid to demonstrate a bit of feminine vulnerability.

  Alexandra was more West’s type. Tall, coolly elegant, a thoroughbred to her toes. In control—of her responses, of her emotions, of her life. She was the kind of woman the other lawyer always dated.

  Alexandra reentered her studio with a sense of consternation. She sincerely regretted her quick response. Luke had been very nice tonight, a bit more relaxed than she’d ever seen him, and she’d cut him off tactlessly.

  Still, there was something about Lucius Quinlan that bothered her. Something not quite defined. She knew nothing about him except that he was a lawyer; he was building a house; he raced cars for a hobby.

  But that something stood like a ghostly presence at his shoulder.

  Chapter 3

  “Mr. Quinlan? Mr. Chadwick would like a moment of your time if it is convenient.” The voice on the telephone had all the warmth of a robotic recording.

  Luke didn’t like Chadwick’s secretary any more than he liked the man himself. In the constant corporate battle of who was more important than whom, the woman was a general on the front lines. Ordinarily he would treat such a summons with amusement, but for some reason her attitude annoyed him today.

  “When?” he asked, wondering why the hell the man didn’t just call himself.

  “As soon as possible.”

  “Fine. I’m free now. Tell him to come right over.”

  He hung up before the woman could suggest that he come to her employer’s office. He buzzed his own secretary and told her to show Mr. Chadwick in as soon as he arrived. He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

  Chadwick arrived, grim-faced and agitated. “How much do you know about setting up offshore corporations?” he asked as soon as he was seated across from Luke.

  “Not a hell of a lot,” Luke answered warily, reseating his glasses.

  “Neither do I,” West said.

  Luke almost smiled at the other lawyer’s woeful expression. Almost, but not quite. The rivalry between himself and West Chadwick, encouraged by the senior partners in order to up the billable hours, had been going on for months. Hell, years!

  On more than one occasion, the competition had reached a bitter level. He and Chadwick were very different, socially, intellectually, personally. In other circumstances, he supposed, they would have complemented each other. Instead, they had grown into wholehearted adversaries.

  But lately to Luke, the struggle hadn’t seemed worth the bad taste it left in his mouth. He wasn’t sure quite yet what steps he would take. He was in pretty good shape financially for the first time in his life. He wouldn’t jeopardize that, but the situation was going to change. “What’s up?” he asked.

  “Our client has decided to move his manufacturing operation to the Caribbean.”

  “What?” Luke leaned forward, his forearms on the desk. He picked up a pencil. “Why the devil would he do that?”

  “I asked. I was told it was none of my business.” Chadwick shook his head. “That’s a hell of a thing to say to your lawyer.”

  “Does Bolton know?” Luke asked, naming the retiring partner from whom they had taken over the client.

  “I don’t think so. Look, Quinlan, I know we don’t get along all that well, but we need to tread carefully on this one.”

  “I agree.” Luke’s eyebrows drew together. “Is he moving his family to the Caribbean?”

  “Apparently.” Chadwick propped his elbows on the arms of his chair and tented his fingers. “The man is on every charity board in town. He’s always seemed very protective of his social and community image. This doesn’t make sense, Luke.”

  It was the first time Chadwick had ever used Luke’s given name. Though he was amazed and curious, Luke subdued an impulse to react. “It makes me downright suspicious. I don’t care if he is our client.”

  Chadwick opened his mouth, then closed it again and shrugged. “Anyway, we may run into some other problems. His company makes some of the computer chips for the defense department, doesn’t it?”

  Luke cursed. “So we’ll have the government looking over our shoulders.”

  “Right,” Chadwick answered grimly. “I have to admit, I’m glad I’m not handling this one by myself.”

  So that was the reason for the lessening of tension. Though the man sitting across from him seemed sincere, Luke wondered how long the geniality would last
. He tapped his pencil point on the desk. “I’ll get the librarian to start assembling our weekend reading.”

  The gray-haired Valkyrie who ran the firm’s law library could get her teeth into this one. They’d have enough citations to keep them busy for weeks.

  “Good. She likes you better than she likes me.” Chadwick dropped his hands and seemed to relax. Then he gave a counterfeit groan. “Weekend reading? Hell, I just remembered.”

  Luke’s gaze narrowed. Suddenly all the cockiness of the ladies’ man was back, almost as though he’d dredged it up intentionally.

  “I had a lot of other things planned for the weekend.” Chadwick grinned. “Such as comforting our beautiful neighbor over dinner, with a fine brandy and maybe some soft music.”

  “You have a date with Alexandra?”

  “Not yet. But I figured I could somehow manage one,” Chadwick answered confidently.

  Luke clenched his back teeth and felt the muscle in his jaw contract. He told himself the anger seething inside him was not envy, nor was it jealousy. “I’m sure you could. You’re a master at seduction, aren’t you?”

  West studied him for a minute. “Yeah, I’ve been told I have talent. Why? Are you interested in Alexandra, yourself?”

  “She’s not my type,” Luke answered shortly.

  * * *

  Luke had left work early and gone to the facility north of the city where he kept his small race car in storage. He was looking forward to having his house, with its own garages, finished.

  Now, back at the condo, he maneuvered the tarp-shrouded trailer into two parking spaces at the edge of the complex. He got out of his car and locked it. Then he checked and tightened the ropes holding the canvas cover.

  “Hi, Luke.”

  The kid was right behind him and he hadn’t heard a thing. Once he would have been alert to the presence of a mosquito. It was disconcerting to discover that the sharp edge he’d had as a naval intelligence officer was definitely gone. Not that he needed it.

  His life now was as placid as a stagnant pond. Occasionally he regretted the loss of exhilaration and excitement. A shrink would probably say he hung on to the idea of adventure in his life by racing.

  “How are you, David?”

  “Fine, I guess.” He jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “My mom says you’re building a house.”

  He turned to smile at the boy as he gave a last jerk on the tarp. “Not me. I never could set a nail.”

  David blushed and retreated a step or two. “I—uh...I meant—”

  Luke felt a guilty rush at the boy’s embarrassment. He’d forgotten how hard it was to be a kid, and almost impossible to distinguish between adult teasing and seriousness.

  He remembered similar incidents in his own childhood. The memories were painful, even now. He, too, had gone through his formative years without a father and he remembered how it felt to say or do something silly and awkward just because he didn’t quite know how to talk to a man.

  He reached out to touch David’s shoulder. “I know what you meant, David. I’m sorry. I thought I was kidding, but I’m clearly out of practice and not very good at it.”

  The color retreated from David’s cheeks. “That’s okay. Are you gonna have a dog when you move?”

  “I’ve thought about getting a dog,” Luke admitted. He paused and leaned back on his palms against the trailer. He crossed his feet at the ankles and said thoughtfully, “I’ve never had one, have you? What’s your favorite breed?”

  “You’ve never had a dog?” David’s voice rose in disbelief on the last word.

  “No, my mom worked. She said it wasn’t fair to leave a dog alone all day in an apartment.”

  “What about your dad?”

  “My dad took off when I was a baby.”

  “Gee, I’m sorry,” David said. Unconsciously he mimicked Luke’s posture, leaning against a fender. “I had a golden retriever when I was little. She was actually my dad’s dog. But she was old, and she died. And then my dad—well, we moved here and you can’t have a pet in the condos.”

  One minute David’s unhappiness was marked, but then abruptly he straightened his slouch and shrugged off any trace of self-pity. Luke saw the maturity emerge that so astonished him in this kid.

  “Goldens are good dogs,” David went on knowledgeably. “They make great watchdogs but they’re not vicious at all. And if you get a female, she won’t roam like a male would. She’ll pretty much stay on your property.”

  Luke nodded, taking the boy’s opinion very seriously. David was a bright kid. He’d probably studied the subject in detail. “I’ll look into a golden,” he said and meant it. “This house is going to fulfill a lot of dreams I had when I was a kid.”

  “So I guess you’ll have a basketball goalpost, too?”

  “I haven’t thought about that. Tell you what. The house is not far from here. It overlooks the Hooch,” he told the boy, nicknaming the Chattahoochee River that was the northern boundary of the city. “If your mom says it’s all right, I’ll take you over there tomorrow and you can see if there’s a good spot for one.”

  David lit up at the suggestion. “Okay. That’d be great.”

  “You want to see something else that was a dream of mine?” Luke’s question was rhetorical. While they talked, David’s gaze had frequently flashed to the tarpaulin-covered trailer, but the boy was too well-mannered to appear overtly curious.

  “Your race car?” he guessed.

  Luke busied himself with the knots. “Yeah. She’s been in storage in Marietta. I’ll tow her to the garage tomorrow to give her a good going-over before the races.”

  The last knot on Luke’s side came free. “Let me get the other side. Then grab that edge,” Luke said, moving around the trailer. David stood ready until Luke said, “Okay.” Together they flipped back the tarp.

  David gasped in awe. The reflection of the sun on chrome could have hurt his eyes. “Gosh.” He touched the shining hood reverently, ran his fingers down the fender. “Does it need polishing or anything?” he asked hopefully.

  Luke pretended to ponder. “It probably could use a touch-up. I’ve got a chamois inside. Come on.”

  * * *

  Alexandra was in her studio. It had taken her all morning to rearrange and reorganize her equipment and files, and most of the afternoon to clean up the mess. David had helped her for a while, but he had disappeared an hour or so earlier. She wondered where he’d gone.

  She ran a flannel-covered brush briskly over the hardwood floor one last time, and sat back on her heels to admire her work. Charcoal had been crushed and ground into the grain. The wood now shone with a fresh coat of wax. Watercolors had been splattered onto windows and shelves. She had scrubbed and polished.

  An hour later, she sat in front of her drawing board with a charcoal pencil in her hand. Waning sunlight poured through the window behind her.

  But inspiration was as dry as last season’s fruitcake. She sighed and tossed aside the pencil. She was feeling guilty for lying to Luke last night. He was a nice person and he had been kind to David; he didn’t deserve her slight. She had no interest in dating him but she could have been more considerate.

  “Mom, Luke’s been showing me his car. Can I ask him to come to dinner?”

  Her first inclination was to say no. But then, inviting him to dinner might alleviate some of her guilt. Mentally she reviewed her menu. “All right. If he understands that we’re only having salads, tell him we’ll be eating about six-thirty.”

  “Right.”

  “David.” She called him back. “Knock on Mr. Chadwick’s door and invite him, too.”

  His response was less than enthusiastic. “Aw, Mo-om.”

  “They were both very kind to us last night. And they work together. It would be rude to ask one without asking the other.”

  “Okay.” David disappeared.

  He was back in five minutes. “Mr. Chadwick isn’t home, Mom,” he told her with a bright smile. “And
Luke says he likes salads.”

  * * *

  Alexandra heard the doorbell. “I’ll get it,” David called.

  A few seconds later, Luke came into the kitchen. “May I help?” he asked.

  Alexandra glanced up from filling deviled eggs for a relish tray that held carrot and celery sticks, pickles and olives. She had made chicken salad and stuffed it into fresh tomatoes and piled potato salad on crisp Boston lettuce. Instead of hot bread, she had made cheese straws and was serving crackers.

  Luke was still dressed in his suit and tie. Again she was reminded that he was larger than she’d thought. She had to take a breath before she could answer. “Thanks, no. I have everything under control. I hope David made it clear that this is a casual meal.”

  Luke got the hint. He took off his jacket and hung it over the back of a chair. “That’s the best kind.” The kitchen was identical to his but she had added a small table for two. “Do you mind if I watch?”

  “No, of course not,” she said quickly.

  He pulled the chair around to face her and loosened his tie. “It’s been a long time since I sat in anybody’s kitchen.”

  She gave him a restless smile. Her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail. The ends curled as did the strands that had escaped to frame her face. She had on khaki slacks, a yellow oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled to her elbows and supple, well-worn penny loafers.

  On her trim figure, the tailored clothing lost all vestige of the original masculine intent. Her hips had just enough curve; her breasts, just enough fullness; and between the two, her waist was nipped in sharply by a narrow brown belt.

  Luke could see his presence was making her nervous and he wasn’t sure why. But it was such an uncharacteristic reaction from this composed, self-possessed woman that he took a certain pleasure in it. He smiled to himself. Call it reprisal for those fleeting morning glimpses of another creature entirely.