She looks at me anxiously. “Daddy, what if Mommy becomes so mad with you she takes me back to live with her and Juan?”
The world is such a different place for a child. It becomes a helpless pawn too easily. I smile softly at her. “Remember when the Judge decided that you were too young to live with me?”
She nods.
“Well, the Judge decided you are old enough to live with me now and he signed a paper that says so. I have it in my desk if you want to see it. And that means nobody can take you away from me now. Not even Mommy. Unless you want to go back to her.”
“I love Mommy, but I think I’ll stay with you, Daddy.”
“Good. Now, can we agree that you won’t tell lies again, for no good reason?”
“It was a good reason,” she insists.
“Maddie,” I say warningly.
“All right,” she agrees with a sigh. Sometimes, she seems wise beyond her years, but hand shy, like a beaten dog.
I firmly doubt Regina would’ve ever laid a hand on her, but there are ways to hurt a kid without hitting them. Like ignoring them or treating them like a nuisance. My blood boils at the idea. “So anyway, we are going to paint your room this weekend,” I say.
She brightens instantly, her eyes shining. “We are?”
“Yes, I’ll get Erica to buy all the paints tomorrow. You can choose the colors you want and we’ll have a go at doing up your room on Saturday, okay?”
She nods happily.
I stroke her head. God, I love this kid.
“Do you do a lot of fun things, Daddy?” she asks, resting her chin in her palm, and looking up at me with those heart-melting eyes.
“What’s your idea of fun things?”
“I like eating Nutella.”
I laugh. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. I wish I could eat it for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I dream of eating Nutella.”
Now, I’m really laughing. “You dream of eating Nutella?”
“Mmmm.”
“Okay, I’ll make sure we have some Nutella back in the apartment. Now what else do you like to do?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She shrugs and looks at her bare toes.
I can remember the first time I saw her. It was her toes that completely stunned me. They were like a row of corn kernels. So neat, so tiny, so unimaginably perfect. “Maddie?” I prompt.
She looks up. “Yeah?”
“I asked you a question. What fun things do you like to do?”
She sucks her bottom lip into her mouth. I can see her thinking. As if I had asked her a trick question.
“I wanna know. Really,” I say softly.
“I like…museums,” she ventures, nearly whispering.
I grin. “You do? Me, too.”
A spark of light flickers in her eyes. “Really?”
“Sure, I do. Do you like art? History? Science? I like science, myself.”
“Yeah, me too! But Mommy doesn’t like them. She says only boys like those kinds of boring things.” She sits up a little straighter against the pillow wedged between her back and the wall. “But I like history stuff too. Like the dinosaurs. I went to a dinosaur exhibit with my class last year and it was soooooo awesome.”
“We’ll have to find more things like that to go to,” I offer. “And amusement parks, if you like them. Do you?”
“Yeah!” Though her illness hasn’t completely passed, she looks more alive and energetic than I’ve seen her thus far. It takes so little to make a kid happy.
“I have an idea,” I venture, folding my hands on the desk and looking at her very seriously. “Make a list of all the fun things you like to do, or things you want to do, but have never had the chance yet. And we’ll start checking things off together. Deal?”
“Deal!” She immediately closes out the app she’s been playing with and opens a text document.
Watching her enthusiasm makes me smile. Kids these days. More confident with technology than most adults.
Now that she’s occupied, I use the opportunity to get back to work. I’m not crazy about the presentation that’s been put together for the demo, and it’s killing me to keep from micromanaging the team in charge of organizing things, but I have enough on my plate at the moment. I need to trust my employees. At least, that’s what Ryland keeps telling me.
My employees. That thought leads me down a path I’ve traveled many times in the last two days, to that meeting with Sam. It’s rare for me to wish I could go back and do something over, but that night is one of those instances. Everything went wrong, beginning to end.
I hate it when I lose control in tense situations, but I did. I’m supposed to be the guy who keeps his cool. I need to be. People rely on me for employment. It’s my job to keep it together when the rest of the world is falling apart.
So, the fact that some kid fresh out of college, some brash thing who’s still just trying out her sexuality, got under my skin to the point where I exploded and blurted out those sharp, harsh comments is unsettling. Even embarrassing.
Brash thing or not, she managed to drop a truth in my lap that’s even more unsettling—the fact that I might be perceived as a leader who sits in his office, waiting for answers, expecting others to fix problems while I tell them to hurry up, do it better, etcetera. Her dig that I should fix the bug in the drone myself if I knew so much, sticks in my craw like I cannot describe.
Even now, her attitude and her accusation stings just as freshly as it did when she first hurled it at me. That’s saying something, since it stung my ego in a pretty big way at the time.
A soft snore catches my attention, pushing thoughts of Sam from my mind. Maddie fell asleep while making up her list, the pillow under her head on the floor. I hope she’s dreaming of all the wonderful things we’ll do together. My brow furrows when I take in the full sight, however—my little girl, asleep on the office floor with a pile of blankets arranged beneath her.
I sigh.
This is the way things have to be for just a little while. I’ll do better for her when the pressure’s off. It just happens to be especially heavy at the moment. I wish Sam would hurry the hell up with the bug fix, since that’s one of the two overriding issues taking up the most room in my mind right now. The other is the Weismann thievery and the leak in my organization. I need a break more than ever.
Maybe it’s time for me to put my money where my mouth is. I can’t do anything about the leak just yet, but I can try to fix the overheating problem. What will Sam think when she comes into the lab tomorrow and finds that I’ve been messing around in her work? I’d hate it, but…
What the hell do I care?
Before I know it, I’m lifting Maddie and her bedding as gently as possible and carrying everything down the hall, into the elevator and down to the lab. I’ll show her that I can be a team player. I’m no dictator, expecting my minions to do my bidding without complaint or even assistance from their leader. I’m not above rolling up my sleeves and going into the trenches.
Evidently, I’m not alone in this.
The first thing I hear while unlocking and opening the door is a gasp.
Lincoln
“I didn’t expect anybody to be here,” I whisper, looking down at Maddie before meeting Sam’s gaze.
She’s flustered, one hand clasped over her chest. “Sorry. I didn’t expect to see anyone, either.”
“Especially not me, huh?”
Her cheeks burn with a deep pink, and she ducks her head to tuck long strands of blonde hair behind both ears.
The clock on the wall tells me it’s now past midnight, but she’s here. I can’t help the swell of grudging admiration which comes up when I consider her dedication. She wasn’t just shooting her mouth off when she claimed to be working hard on this issue. Once again, I feel like I was more than a bit unfair to her. She’s doing her best with a problem that got dropped in her lap, unceremoniously too.
She smiles when she catches sight of Maddie and her eyes soften somewhat. “Beautiful,” sh
e whispers.
“Thank you.” I look around, now doubtful. “I had hoped to make a little bed up for her down here so she can sleep, but—”
Sam gets up, waving her hands. “I’ll help you out. Here. Give me those.”
I loosen my grip a bit, enough for her to work the blankets out from between my arms and Maddie’s body, and she shakes them out before arranging them in a far corner of the lab, behind filing cabinets and tucked away from the rest of the workspace. I crouch beside her, placing my daughter on the makeshift bed while Sam turns out the nearby lights to give her a bit more darkness.
“Thanks,” I whisper as I stand. I look down at my daughter once more. She is fast asleep. At least, her presence will keep the two of us from killing each other. I hope. I turn away to get down to business.
“What are you still doing here with her?” she whispers once we’re out of earshot.
Just like that, her way with words brings my blood to a simmer. “What exactly do you think I should do? Leave her at home by herself? Or maybe I should let her sleep in the car, out in the garage. I’ll crack the windows in case it gets too hot in there.”
She flushes a deep red, but holds my gaze with a defiant lift of her chin. “I didn’t mean to insinuate any wrongdoing. I was only asking. It’s so late.”
“No kidding. I thought it was midday.”
Her eyes flash with temper. “Wow. The later the night gets, the worse your temper is.”
“I could say the same for you.” Then, I look down at the work she’s been doing and instantly regret my lapse into bitterness. Once again, my mouth has run away from me before I had the chance to think twice. The girl is here well after everyone has gone home for the night, but all I can do is take her semi-innocent questions and turn them into something negative.
“I’m happy to go home, if that’s what you want,” she says in a fierce whisper, though I get the impression from the way she’s planted her feet that she has no intention of going anywhere.
I jerk my chin in the direction of her work. “What’s happening here?”
“The usual thrills and chills,” she replies. “I had an idea tonight while I was on my way from dinner and wanted to try it out.”
“Dinner?” Does she have a boyfriend? She’s dressed pretty nicely, I now notice. A slim-fitting skirt, a silk blouse which simultaneously covers up and promises so much from her full, firm breasts. Patent leather heels make her legs look longer. I don’t want to come across as a perv, but I have to keep from licking my lips at the sight of them. She’s too damn tempting. Every inch of her smooth skin calls to me. I frown. It’s not right, thinking about her this way. Maybe it’s because she gets my blood up and then my mind goes in directions it shouldn’t.
My attention snaps back to her face, and I’m glad she’s focused on the components spread over the table rather than on the assessment, I just performed on her body. She has me all mixed up. An uncomfortable feeling.
“Yes,” she murmurs, shaking her head, still focused on the components she’s piecing together. “Dinner with the family. A monthly torture ritual.”
I snort softly, and out of more than a little relief. It’s none of my business whether this girl has a boyfriend or not and I know it, but I still prefer the thought of a tense family meal to a romantic night out. I don’t know why. “Family’s rarely ever easy,” I commiserate.
“Mine more than most,” she says.
I catch the real sadness behind the glib comment. I stare at her intrigued.
“What about you?” she asks quickly.
“What about me?”
“Tense dinners? Or do you have that perfect family where everybody gets together and lobs jokes across the table before drinking cocoa by the fire?”
Her image makes me wince, since it’s so close to the way things used to be. “Not so much anymore,” I murmur, remembering Mom’s dinners and the holidays we spent together. Even though it was just the three of us, the house couldn’t have been fuller with love if we’d tried. It’s enough to bring a lump to my throat.
“I’m sorry,” she sighs. “That was insensitive.”
I glance across to find her stricken expression. “It’s all right. Really. And no dinners, tense or otherwise here.”
“Well. You aren’t missing much,” she murmurs with a wry smile. “Honestly, after what I went through, I had to come here to work out some of my frustration.”
“Most people would go to a gym to work their frustration out,” I say, watching her long, slim and sure fingers work. She’s intimately aware of the hardware she is handling, operating without hesitation. As if the bits and pieces are extensions of her. There’s something seductive about watching a person so completely in-tune with what they’re doing—especially when it’s something I designed. I know instinctively that she’d slap my hand away if I dared encroach on what she sees as her territory.”
“Working out is okay, especially if I’m punching something,” she admits. “But I find this even more stimulating. Exhilarating too, when I manage to work out the solution to a problem.”
“I’ve been there.”
She lifts her head and looks at me. “Oh, yeah?”
“Sure. You focus all attention on making something work. You put your heart and soul into it, trying everything you can think of. Calling on all your skill. And when it works and you were right?” I smile. “It’s an unbelievable high. You feel ten feet tall.”
She smiles back. Her whole face transforming. “I can’t think of anything better,” she says softly.
God, she’s beautiful. “I can think of one or two things,” I mutter under my breath, but obviously audible if the way color floods her cheeks is any indication. I have to stop this, and now. All I need is for her to call me up on charges of sexual harassment and I’m in hot water. The last thing I need with my daughter in my charge. “What did you tweak?” I ask, desperate to get off the subject of sex or innuendo.
She snaps the last piece into place. Before me on the table, is a fully-assembled drone. “I added a thin insulation blanket around the battery casing and an extra layer of heat paste behind the motherboard,” she explains. “It might keep the heat from frying anything out.”
My mind drops into design mood. “You think that’ll do it, huh?”
“It can’t hurt, can it? Nothing I’ve done so far has made much of a difference. Good luck, Barry,” she says.
“You called the drone, Barry?”
She avoids my eyes as she hits the timer. “It’s just for ease of reference.”
I try not smile. We sit in silence for six-and-a-half minutes as the drone makes its circular flight over our heads. Both of us hoping against hope that something will change and the drone will stay in flight. When it keeps running, we look at each other with wide, hopeful eyes. This could be it. This could be the breakthrough.
It isn’t.
Once we reach the seventh minute mark, the sickeningly familiar sequence of events begins, with the temperature readout spiking. The engine sputters out and I land the drone before it can crash.
“Damn!” Her head sinks into her arms, crossed on the table.
“I’m sorry.” And I am, and for more than just me or the company. Her passion is evident, as is her dedication. The girl drove in after dinner, when she could’ve gone home like a normal person and living a normal life, but she came here, instead. And she’s devastated by her lack of progress.
“You’re sorry?” she asks, dismayed. “This is your baby, and I’m still screwing it up.”
“This isn’t my baby,” I point out, then jerk a thumb in the direction of my sleeping daughter. “That is. This is just work.”
She raises an eyebrow, smirking ever so slightly. “Why don’t I believe that?”
“What do you mean?”
“If you weren’t as crazy devoted to this as I am, you wouldn’t still be here. You’re just as invested in that baby,” she jerks her thumb in the direction the drone. “As any
of us in development.”
“Of course. But even so, I know you’re working hard and I know you’re frustrated. I’m just glad you haven’t given up yet. I’m not sure where we would be if you did.”
“I can tell you where we’d be.” She chuckles mirthlessly. “We’d be in the same spot we were in when this was dumped in my lap, because I haven’t gotten anywhere.”
“That’s not true,” I point out, indicating her notes. “We know what doesn’t work. All we have to do is find what does. You’ve made tremendous progress.”
She eyes me suspiciously, like an animal unsure whether it should trust the man with the gun who says he’s not a hunter.
I make an effort to keep my expression neutral in order to convince her I mean what I say.
“Thanks,” she finally murmurs, tucking her hair back.
It must be a nervous gesture when she is unsure what to do with those crafty hands of hers. I can’t help but wonder what else they’re capable of…“Wait a second. What about the fan casing?”
“What about it?” she asks, watching as I turn the drone upside down.
I point to the semi-circular cutouts in the drone’s exterior, which allow hot air to flow from inside the body the way a computer’s fan does. “What if these were wider and that piece there was moved here? Not by much, but enough to draw out more heat at a time? That might make a big enough difference.”
She purses her generous mouth, eyes narrowing, as she processes the idea in her mind. “That could help. We’ve already improved flight time. If we keep going in this direction, it could be enough.”
I immediately begin to disassemble the drone, leaving replacing the circuitry to her while I use an awl to widen the openings. There’s something nice about working alongside someone for once. A camaraderie I’ve missed out on for a long time. I find myself smiling, even as the night rolls on and sleep becomes a distant concept. I’ll be a mess come morning, but it’ll be worth it if we can score a win.
“All right. I think this will do it. Any larger, and the integrity of the case will be lost.” I hand the last piece over.
Sam works it into place, completing the drone once again. She grins at me. A real smile.
Too hot to handle: A curvy girl romance Page 19