Oh, yes, there was that, too.
Hank crammed a handkerchief into her fist. With one last sniffle, she made a stab at damage control. Then, red-eyed, red-nosed, she took a deep breath, looked him directly in the eye and said, “There. That’s over. I promise not to do it again.”
“Feel free, anytime. I can always call in help if we need to man the pumps.”
She shook her head, but a bit of the sparkle was back in her eyes. “I don’t have time to waste, but thanks. If you’re ready to go, I’ve seen enough. More than enough.”
Hank drove her to the insurance agency in Yadkinville. He offered to go inside with her, but didn’t argue when she refused. “I’d really rather go in alone. I know everyone in the office. They’d all wonder who you are, and I don’t want to have to explain you if you don’t mind. I’ve made a list of all I need to find out.”
“Take your time, I can make a few calls while I’m waiting.”
“What did people like you do before cell phones were invented?”
“People like me? Oh, I don’t know…long extension cords?”
That brought—well, not quite a smile, but a few more shadows disappeared from her eyes.
He bought her lunch on the way out of town. By mutual consent, neither of them mentioned what had happened the night before. Hank could wait. First there was the property to be dealt with, and knowing Callie, she would insist on handling things in her own way, in her own time.
It was going to be tricky, but he’d been in tricky situations before. Thrived on ‘em, in fact. He just couldn’t remember a time when the outcome had been so important.
Back in the car, she asked if she could borrow his phone to call Grace, who hadn’t been home when they’d stopped by on the way past. Hank considered telling her he had no intention of leaving her behind. That she was going back to Texas with him in a couple of hours, whether she knew it now or not. Whatever details needed handling, he could handle them for her from his office.
But he knew better than to tip his hand. She had more pride than a two-tailed dog. So he played his ace, instead.
“I’ve been thinking about Manie. About her future.”
Head up. Wary look. “I’ve already decided what to do. Once I get the insurance money, I’m going to buy us a modular home. Grace loves hers. I can get us a real nice one, one that’ll be easy to take care of, because I’ll be working again and Aunt Manie doesn’t need to be doing heavy housework at her age. Grandpop’s house was really too large. I guess the best thing about those old houses is that you could close the door on the parts you aren’t using.” Her words would have sounded pragmatic if her voice hadn’t wavered.
Hank said nothing. He’d learned at an early age that when it came to bargaining, silence was the weapon of choice.
“Well, I still own the property, you know.”
“I know. Did you know you’ve got soot all over your shoes? There’s a smudge on the back of your arm, too.”
Her shoulders lost some of their military stiffness. She dabbed at her arm, glanced down at her feet and grimaced. “I need a bath.”
“We both do.”
Their eyes met and then slid apart. Suddenly the focus shifted. Neither of them was ready to deal with it just now, but it couldn’t be put off much longer. Sometime over the past twenty-four hours, Hank had come to a conclusion. No matter what Callie thought, Manie was his responsibility. The woman had practically raised him.
Callie was his responsibility because of a momentary weakness on his part. She had never been a part of his original plan. He’d had his future all mapped out. A convenient marriage with a suitable party, followed by a child, or possibly two. No emotional entanglements, at least not with his wife.
Children would be another matter. Something told him he’d make a damned fine daddy once he got the hang of it. At least he knew what not to do. If, after a few years, the marriage went sour, he could have counted on the woman to be sensible about it, having covered every possible contingency in a generous prenuptial agreement.
The one contingency he hadn’t counted on was Callie.
She was frowning, punching in numbers on his car phone. She wasn’t exactly intimidated by technology, but she was still a little wary. After waiting a couple of minutes, she gave up.
“Maybe she’s gone to Durham to see her daughter. I’ll try again from the hotel.”
Wanting to tumble her into his arms and hold her for the forseeable future, Hank started the engine and backed out of the parking slot.
“Quit frowning,” he growled, “you’ll get wrinkles.”
“What’s wrong with wrinkles?”
“Nothing. Laugh lines are better.”
She scowled at him. Neither of them spoke again until they turned off onto 421, and then Callie said, “You told Pete fifteen hundred hours. That’s three o’clock in the afternoon, isn’t it?”
“So?”
“So it’s already after two. You’re going to have to hurry. You can drop me off at the hotel, grab your things and check out. I’ll call Grace again from the lobby. I think I can probably rent a car at the hotel, but if not, I can get a taxi.”
“We’ll talk about it later.”
“You don’t have time for later if you’re planning on being in Washington tonight. What are you going to do there, anyway?”
She was trying to distract him, bless her little heart. It wasn’t going to work, but he had to admit, if anyone could throw him off course, it would be Callie. “Calling on a friend in the diplomatic service, why?”
“Mercy, that sounds important. You don’t want to miss your connections.”
“I make my own connections, remember?”
“Well—well—oh, just forget it,” she snapped.
Good sign. She was going to need all the grit she could muster to get through the next few hours. He intended to push hard. All the same, he kind of liked the soft, damp, clinging Callie.
He began to hum under his breath, and then sang a few words in his rusty baritone, beating time on the steering wheel. The one about Caledonia and her big, hard head?
“Oh, hush up, I’ve been hearing that wretched song all my life.”
“Let me see now, Manie is Romania. Her father was Alaska, her brother, your grandfather, is what? Uwharrie? I think she said he was named after a mountain or something.”
“I don’t know who started it, but believe me, my daughter, if I ever have one, is going to have a name that can’t be turned into a joke.”
“You could name her Henry. Hank’s not so bad.” She made that tsk sound that reminded him of Manie, so he told her about his first heartthrob. “I was about thirteen at the time. Old enough to like girls, but not old enough to admit it. Her name was Elizabeth.”
“That’s a nice, sensible name. Betty. Betsy. Liz.”
“We called her Lizard Butt.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake!”
But she laughed. First a grin, then a reluctant chuckle. Hank felt as if he’d just pulled off a major deal.
Three o’clock came and went. Evidently Hank had cleared the change with his pilot. He said he’d arranged a late checkout, so Callie took the time to shower while he talked to people in Venezuela and Washington. She wondered if she would ever take such things for granted. Old Doc Teeter used to use an egg timer whenever she had to call long distance from the office.
As soon as they’d got back to the hotel she’d tried Grace again, with the same results. Hank, looking as relaxed as a lizard in the sun, had watched her closely. “It’s not a problem, really,” she’d assured him. “I can always stay at a motel. I know a real nice one that would be perfect. For that matter, I could stay at my folks’ place here in town, only I really need to be closer to Yadkinville.”
“Listen, Callie, I’ve been thinking—”
“Oh, I’d better lock my suitcase. And check the bathroom to see if I forgot anything.” She darted away from the scene of the crime, where every single thing reminded her of last night.
The big chair where he’d pulled her down onto his lap. The desk he’d bumped when he was carrying her into his bedroom.
His bedroom…
Oh, Lord, she was in way over her head, without so much as an inner tube. Hank wasn’t like any man she’d ever dated. Not that there’d been all that many. Certainly none who turned her brain to jelly. None with a mouth she couldn’t help watching, wondering what it would taste like—what it would feel like on her lips. On her body.
She took a deep, steadying breath and stepped back into the room that divided their two bedrooms. He was still right where she’d left him, sprawled on the sofa, his booted feet on the coffee table, fingers flying over the keyboard of his laptop computer. It was the one he used for e-mail. He had at least half a dozen computers in his office, more on the plane. Callie had never before met anyone who used different computers for different tasks, but Manie said it had something to do with not putting all his eggs in one basket. Besides, according to her aunt, he owned a company that made those little chip things, so he probably got them at a good price.
While she hovered in the doorway, torn between the need to get on with her business and reluctance to end something so incredibly special, the phone rang. Hank caught it before it could ring again and barked, “Langley. Shoot.” He listened, nodded, said, “Passports won’t be a problem,” and hung up. Callie lifted her suitcase to indicate her readiness to leave, but Hank punched in another number and started talking again, his lazy Texas drawl nowhere in evidence.
She shifted her weight. It wasn’t that she was impatient. Well, she was, but only because she had a lot to do. Besides, he’d already given her more time than he could spare. The least she could do was to return the favor.
When she caught him looking at her, she glanced pointedly at her watch. He nodded, but kept right on talking.
Passports. She’d never even owned one. Had never needed one. It was just one of dozens of differences between them. He was cosmopolitan; she was…well, whatever she was, it was not cosmopolitan.
He had a mole on his chest, just below his right collarbone. She knew that much about him. He had gorgeous legs for a man, even with the hair and the scars. There wasn’t a single thing about him that wasn’t perfect, and that was a problem, too, because she’d learned a long time ago not to waste time dreaming about things she could never have. She’d never gone to Disneyland because they couldn’t afford it. She’d never had a horse for the same reason.
Hank probably had a whole flock of horses. He wasn’t exactly a cowboy, but he looked as if he’d be every bit as comfortable riding the range as he was dressed in a Western-cut tuxedo at a fancy dress ball. More comfortable, in fact.
Hank was saying, “I’ve got a couple of contacts at the embassy there, but I can’t guarantee their loyalty.”
Embassies. She’d never even met anyone who’d been to an embassy, much less someone who knew anyone there. The closest she’d come was when she’d met a congressman’s aid when her high school class had made a bus trip to Raleigh to visit the legislature.
“Once the thing goes down, you’re going to have to move fast. I can have someone waiting on the other side of the border, but it’ll be touch-and-go.”
Move fast? Touch-and-go? This didn’t sound very much like a standard business call.
“You’ve got the specs on the Avenger, you know what’s required. A cow pasture won’t cut it.” There was a long pause during which Hank chuckled, swore and shook his head. “Yeah, right. But next time, how about picking a damned desert.”
Callie was beginning to think she shouldn’t be hearing all this. Whatever was going on, it didn’t sound legitimate.
“No, I wouldn’t worry the authorities about it. Things are pretty shaky over there, politically. Right. Work out the details, get an idea of the timetable, and I’ll check with you when I get in tonight.”
He stashed the phone and turned to catch her staring at him. “What?”
“Nothing. I was so busy thinking—um, liability insurance and modular homes and all, I didn’t hear a word, not a single word.”
“What the devil are you talking about?”
“Nothing. I’m just going over in my mind all the things I have to do over the next few days. If you want to check out now, I’m ready. I can place a few calls from downstairs, and then I’ll probably see you back in Texas in a couple of days or so. If you’re there. Not that you’ll be going anywhere—I mean, there’s Washington, but—”
“Callie?”
“What?”
“You’re babbling.”
“I know. I always do that when I’m nervous.”
“Why are you nervous?”
“I’m not. That is, I just have a lot on my mind right now. Things I need to be doing and all. I guess we’d better go on down to the lobby so we can check out on time, hadn’t we? I mean, even late checker-outers have to leave sooner or later, and I’d hate for you to get stuck for another night. This place must cost a fortune.” Stupid, stupid, stupid! He could buy the hotel if he wanted to.
“Sit down, we still have some things to settle.”
“Don’t you need to be at the airport?”
“I can make it in twenty minutes.”
“Not without speeding.”
He lifted his eyebrows again, as if to say, “So?”
“Go ahead, risk a ticket if you want to, but I’ve got to find a place to stay, rent a car, get with the insurance agent and start looking at houses. I want everything under control when I go back for Aunt Manie.”
“You still don’t get it, do you?”
“Get what?”
“Callie, I’m taking you back to Texas with me. There’s not one damned reason for you to stay here. Your folks are gone. You don’t have a place to stay or any way to get around. The adjusters can do their job without your personal supervision. As for buying a house—”
“I’m not ordering one from any mail-order catalog, if that’s what you’re about to say. Listen, we don’t have time for this. You’ve got things to do and I’m sure they’re perfectly legal, but I’m so busy I don’t even have time to—”
There was one way to shut her up. Not being particularly chivalrous, Hank took it.
When he came up for air, her lips were glistening, her eyes had a dazed look about then and her glasses—God knows where they were. They were no longer on her face.
They were both breathing hard. “Why on earth did you do that?” she gasped.
“Seemed like a pretty good idea to me.”
“Yes, well—it wasn’t, it only confuses the issue and—”
“Wastes time?”
“That’s not what I was about to say.”
“What were you about to say, Caledonia?”
“How do I know? You can’t expect me to remember everything when you—when you do—things like that.”
“Things like kissing you?”
She blushed. He watched, fascinated, while the hot, sweet color rose up her throat to stain her cheeks. “Look at me, Callie.” She deliberately avoided his eyes. For a woman who made a virtue of being direct, it was a dead giveaway. “Tell me you didn’t want it.”
“There’s a time and a place for everything, and this is neither.”
He gave her full marks for effort. “Yeah, well—you’re right about the time, but what’s wrong with the place?”
Her eyes cut directly to the bedroom door, open to reveal part of a king-size bed that had been freshly made.
It could easily be unmade. He said as much, and she shoved him away and raked trembling fingers through her hair.
“You think Manie would object?” His words were teasing. His eyes were not. “You’re probably right. She’d skin us both alive. So what if I promise to make an honest woman of you, do you think that would satisfy her?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He considered it a moment. “I think you do. I think you had a pretty good idea last night where this
thing between us was headed.” She looked so stricken he almost relented, but as long as he’d come this far, he might as well go all the way. “Marry me, Callie.”
Her jaw dropped. She blinked up at him. “Excuse me?”
“Excuse me is not an acceptable answer.”
From an early age, Hank had been blessed with charisma. With the kind of charm that could lure birds out of trees and women into his bed.
Now, nearing the age of forty, it had been honed down until any hint of youthful charm was gone. Worn away by time and experience. The charisma was still there, but it was mostly in the eyes, a tool he seldom used to get what he wanted.
He used it now. He wanted Callie.
“Callie? I’ve got a proposition for you. If you want the spreadsheet version, I can do that, too. The pros and cons, pluses and minuses. Better yet, I can have you back with Manie by suppertime, and you can talk it over with her. I promise you this—if you still want to, and if Manie agrees to move back here, I’ll fly you both back so you can pick out your house together. Do we have a deal?”
Eleven
They had a deal. A shaky, provisional deal, but under the circumstances, Callie was in no condition to resist. She had one major factor working against her: she was in love with the guy. Not infatuated. She wasn’t terribly experienced, but over the years she’d learned the difference between love and infatuation. She’d had what Grandpop called crushes on several boys, but not one of them would she ever have considered marrying.
“Got that look about you, gal,” he used to say. “Don’t do nothin’ foolish, y’hear?”
And, of course, with her own parents as an example, she never had. Or almost never. Until now.
“It don’t hurt a man to have a few flaws. God didn’t make no perfect ones, but when it comes to settlin’ in for the long haul, be sure the two of you have respect for one another. It’ll still be there when you’re too old to do more’n set on the front porch and hold hands.”
After careful consideration—because she was, after all, known for her common sense—Callie decided that more than any man she’d ever known, she respected Hank Langley for his strength, his integrity and his kindness. Grandpop would have approved of him.
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