Love

by Sherryl Woods

  The downstairs windows in Dana’s building were covered with bars. The linoleum in the foyer was yellowed and peeling, though he noticed that someone had recently scrubbed it and the air was scented with a light, flowery fragrance. He climbed the stairs to the third floor and knocked.

  He heard footsteps, the cautious rattle of chains, then “Who is it?”

  “Jason.”

  The silence grew thick before she finally said flatly, “We have nothing to discuss.”

  The stubborn tone was exactly what he’d expected. “I think we do. I can say what I have to say from out here or you can let me in. Which is it?”

  The chained door across the hall opened a discreet crack. Curious eyes watched him. Dana’s door remained solidly closed, testimony to her fondness for scenes. Apparently she was just itching for another one.

  “Okay, we’ll do it your way,” he said, unbuttoning his coat and leaning casually against the doorjamb. Fortunately he doubted anyone in this neighborhood had ever heard of the Hallorans. “You seem to have gotten some crazy idea that I want you on the Halloran account, after all. Believe me, nothing could be farther from the truth.”

  There was a long pause while she apparently wrestled with reality, something that obviously eluded her most of the time. Finally she countered, “John Lansing told me point-blank that you wanted to work with me. He said you’d insisted on it.”

  “I have not spoken to John Lansing in days. Are you absolutely certain he said this was my idea?”

  “He said…he implied…” She groaned. “Your grandfather,” she said wearily. “Why didn’t I think of that? It must have been your grandfather.”

  Jason rolled his eyes. Now that made perfect sense. He should have detected the fine touch of Brandon Halloran himself. “That would be my guess,” he agreed.

  “Doesn’t that man ever take no for an answer?”

  “Not that I’ve noticed.”

  The door crept open. “I suppose you’d better come in, so we can figure something out.”

  She sounded resigned. The door across the hall inched open another fraction. Now that he understood what had happened, Jason began to relax. This was a mix-up they could fix. Yet her attitude irked him just a little. Getting involved with him, as his grandfather wanted her to do, was hardly the awful sacrifice she’d painted it to be. Some of Boston’s wealthiest, most sophisticated women considered him quite a catch.

  “Sure you trust me?” he taunted in a deliberately lazy, seductive tone. A real streak of mischief seemed to creep over him.

  The gap in both doorways widened. Dana saw what was happening across the hall and motioned him inside. “Get in here.”

  “You don’t have to let the dude in,” a male voice said from behind her. The adolescent tone traveled over several octaves, but it was heavy with animosity. “You want him outta here, I’ll take care of it.”

  Jason caught sight of the skinny young boy with blond hair and blue eyes that matched Dana’s. Sammy, no doubt. Jason took an instinctive and immediate dislike to him. If Dana puzzled and disturbed him, this boy was like an alien creature. The kid was in serious need of a decent barber. His expression was filled with hostility and his stance was brotherly protective. On one level Jason admired the attitude; on another he began to realize just exactly what Dana was up against with the little punk.

  Dana sighed. “It’s okay, Sammy. I can handle Mr. Halloran.”

  Jason’s eyebrows lifted a fraction.

  She ignored the implied skepticism. “Do you want some coffee or something? We have a couple slices of pizza left.”

  Sammy scowled at the invitation. Clearly he would have preferred to slug Jason or, at the very least, escort him forcefully from the apartment. It made him wonder exactly what Dana had told her brother about him. Or if the boy was simply savvy enough to understand the odd chemistry at work between Jason and his sister, a chemistry he didn’t begin to understand himself. Now that he was here, he realized he’d been drawn by more than a need to settle some crazy mix-up about a job.

  “Coffee would be nice,” Jason said.

  Sammy took a step closer to his sister. “Sis, you want me to hang around?”

  Dana shook her head slowly as if she were reluctant to let him leave, but unwilling to admit to the weakness. “No,” she said finally. “It’s okay. Mr. Halloran and I need to resolve some business matters.”

  “I’ll be at Joey’s if you need me.” He glared at Jason. “It’s just downstairs.”

  Jason nodded seriously. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  When Sammy had gone, Jason observed, “Looks like he’s picked up your protective streak.”

  “We learned a long time ago to stick together.”

  There was a note of defiance in her voice, a warning that Jason couldn’t miss. How many times had Dana put herself on the line to bail out her troublesome brother? He’d figured it for a one-sided avenue, but seeing Sammy just now he realized that the guardian angel activities worked both ways.

  “He looks a little the worse for wear. Did he run into a door?”

  “So he claims,” she said ruefully.

  “What happened to the VCR?” he asked, wondering how she’d handled that after she’d foolishly risked her neck to go after the thief who’d sold it to her brother.

  “I made him give it to the church down the block.” She grinned. “I was hoping maybe it would make him go down there a little more often, instead of hanging out with those creeps he seems to like so much.”

  “Has it worked?”

  “Not so far, as you can probably tell from the black eyes, but I’m still hopeful.”

  Dana started to lead the way into the apartment’s kitchen. Jason tossed his coat on a chair, then looked around as he followed her. He was hoping for clues that would help him to understand this woman whose personality clashed so with his.

  The cracked walls had been painted a shade as bright as whitewashed adobe. A tall basket held paper flowers in poppy red, vibrant orange and sunshine yellow. Throw pillows in similar colors had been tossed on the faded beige sofa that looked uncomfortably lumpy. Clay pots of plants lined the windowsill with shades of green. Despite the frayed condition of the furniture, the room had a cheerful, homey air about it, all achieved on a shoestring. Books were stacked helter-skelter, worn copies of everything from business texts to art books, from history to philosophy. He doubted they were Sammy’s.

  “You read a lot?” he said. When the question drew her back into the room, he gestured toward the well-dusted, obviously well-used collection.

  “Buying books is cheaper than taking classes,” she said from the archway leading to the kitchen.

  “Looks like some pretty heavy stuff. What made you pick it?”

  “I got my hands on the reading lists for some of the courses at Boston College,” she admitted with a shrug, as if the act had been no big deal. Once again, though, Jason was impressed by her tenacious desire to improve her lot in life. He had taken so much in his life for granted. Dana would probably have made much better use of a college education than he had thus far.

  “You amaze me,” he said quietly.

  Dana’s gaze met his, lingered for a heartbeat, then skittered nervously away. Her cheeks turned pink and she hurriedly took the remaining steps into the kitchen. Jason went after her.

  The kitchen held a tiny table for two. The red Formica top was decades old and the chairs didn’t match. The stove and refrigerator were so ancient Jason wondered that they worked at all.

  Dana was silent as she made the coffee. Jason sat down and watched, surprisingly content for the first time since she’d slammed the phone in his ear an hour earlier.

  Odd how little time he’d ever spent in a kitchen, he thought. His mother had been a haphazard cook at best, too busy with her causes to bake cookies or stir homemade soup, though he had a vague recollection of a time when that hadn’t been so. On those rare days when a housekeeper hadn’t left something warming in the ov
en for their dinner and his father had stayed late at the office, they had ordered pizza or brought home Chinese take-out. Once in a while they’d even gorged themselves on fast-food hamburgers and fries. Always, though, they’d eaten at the huge mahogany table in the dining room. That table could have seated every Pilgrim at the first Thanksgiving. Jason had always hated it.

  Now he discovered there was something cozy and intimate about sitting here while Dana bustled around, putting home-baked cookies on a plate and pouring coffee for the two of them. Another knot of tension eased.

  She was dressed as she had been when he’d first seen her, in snug-fitting jeans and a sweater that skimmed past her slender hips. This one was as orange as those fake flowers in the living room and featured an abstract design in electric blue. It took everything in him to refrain from the impulse to trace the design from the V-neckline over the swell of her breasts and on to a waistline he was sure he could span with his hands. Instead he forced his gaze on, focusing finally on her feet. Despite the chill in the air, she was wearing only a pair of orange socks. There was something unexpectedly sexy about the sight.

  Face it, he told himself. There was something just plain sexy about Dana. He’d fought it, but there was no denying he’d felt it each time he was around her. His body responded forcefully to the slightest touch, the most fleeting glance. Working with her would be sheer torture. The most exquisite sort of torture, but painful none the less.

  “Thank you,” he said when she finally sat down opposite him. “I take it you’ve decided to declare a truce.”

  “For the moment,” she acknowledged. “It’s your grandfather I should have yelled at.”

  “I’ll give you the number,” he offered with a grin. “In fact, I’ll even dial it for you.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  After seeing the way she lived, how badly she needed the money, Jason knew he had no choice. He drew in a deep breath. “You’re going to take the job.”

  Troubled eyes met his. “Are you sure? I know it’s not what you want.”

  “I’m sure I’ll survive.”

  “Could you manage to sound at least a little bit enthusiastic about it?”

  “Don’t expect miracles overnight.”

  She nodded, but she no longer met his gaze. “Okay, so where do we go from here?”

  Jason followed her cue. “I suppose you should come by the plant. I think it would be helpful if you could see what we’re all about. It may give you some ideas. Then I’d like to go over the timetable I have in mind for the entire campaign, see if it works for you. I don’t want you to feel pressured to meet an unreasonable deadline just to prove yourself. Once we’re certain everything’s in place, then we’ll arrange a meeting with my father and grandfather.”

  “I think the less I see of your grandfather the better.”

  “You may have a point, but there’s no escaping it. Granddad likes to be involved in everything. His father founded Halloran Industries and handed it down to him. Of course, at the rate Granddad is going, my father and I won’t get our turns until sometime in the next century.”

  “He doesn’t want to retire?”

  “He tosses the idea around every once in a while, then some new project comes along and he can’t bring himself to let go.”

  Jason couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice. He loved his grandfather dearly, but Brandon’s tight grip on the company’s entire operation was keeping both him and his father from any real sense of ownership. No wonder he was bored. He hadn’t made a significant decision since he’d joined the firm, at least not without his grandfather looking over his shoulder.

  “When can you start?” he asked.

  “It’ll be a couple of weeks before I can work full-time, but if you need me for something specific before that, I’ll try to work it out.”

  “How about tomorrow?”

  “I’ll be working.”

  “Come over on your lunch hour. I’ll show you around. I’ll order in lunch.”

  “It takes a half-hour each way on the bus. That hardly leaves time for lunch and a tour.”

  “You don’t have a car?”

  “No.”

  “Then I’ll send one for you. Better yet, why don’t you let me finance one through our company credit union? You’ll need it if you’re going to be running back and forth between Halloran Industries and the Lansing offices. Or would you prefer to have me set up an office over at Halloran? I’m sure John would agree.”

  Once Jason had accepted the fact that there was no way around working with Dana, he’d actually begun warming to the idea. If his grandfather was so enchanted with Dana, perhaps this was Jason’s opportunity to actually impress him with the marketing campaign he’d been trying to implement for months now.

  However, Dana’s expression grew increasingly distressed as Jason’s whirlwind enthusiasm mounted. She held up a hand.

  “Whoa! Wait a minute!”

  “What?”

  “I do not want a car of my own. I can’t afford it and you know how I feel about credit. As for any running back and forth, I’ll manage. I’ve been taking public transportation around Boston for years.” She ticked off the points on her fingers. “Finally if I am going to be working for the Lansing Agency then I should be based at the Lansing Agency. You’re just one account. John may have other work for me.”

  “Not right away,” Jason argued. “I’ll need you full-time until we get this off the ground.”

  “Then John can bill you for the travel time. I’m staying at the agency.”

  Jason recognized the stubborn finality and decided it was time to slow down and stop pressuring her. He wasn’t entirely sure himself why his mood had shifted from reluctance to excitement. They could both use a little time to analyze this new relationship and all of its implications.

  “We’ll try it your way,” he conceded. “At the end of a month we’ll take a look at it and see how it’s working out. Fair enough?”

  “Fair enough,” she agreed, but without much enthusiasm.

  Just then the living room door slammed shut and seconds later Sammy loomed in the doorway. “You’re still here?” he said, an accusatory note in his voice. The rudeness immediately made Jason’s hackles rise.

  “Mr. Halloran and I are just finishing up,” Dana told him.

  Looking none to pleased, but staying silent, Sammy grabbed a handful of cookies, then went to the refrigerator and poured himself a glass of milk. All the while his distrustful gaze never left Jason.

  Jason tried to remember all those lessons in humanity his father had preached for years during his social consciousness phase, but Sammy grated on his nerves. The kid had trouble written all over his face and an attitude that needed changing. That didn’t mean Jason couldn’t be polite to him, though. He fished around for a neutral topic.

  “Dana tells me you’re a junior this year,” he said. “I remember what that was like.”

  “Sure,” Sammy said skeptically. “At some prep school, right?”

  Jason sensed the resentment and countered. “No, as a matter of fact, I went to school right here in the city. What classes are you taking?”

  “English, history, the usual stuff.”

  “Doing okay?”

  Sammy looked disgusted by the whole line of questioning. Dana jumped in. “He makes good grades. Mostly Bs.”

  Sammy shrugged.

  “Thinking of college?” Jason asked.

  “You’ve gotta be kiddin’. Where am I gonna get the money for college?”

  “There are scholarships. You’ve still got plenty of time to apply.”

  “My grades aren’t that good and I ain’t no athlete superstar.”

  “Don’t say that,” Dana said. “You’re on the swim team.”

  “Big deal. I don’t see anybody offering big bucks to people because they can swim the length of a pool.”

  “Plenty of colleges have swim teams and they do offer scholarships,” Jason contradicted
. Too many years of liberal dinner table conversations prompted him to offer, “Want me to look into it for you?”

  Sammy regarded him with blatant suspicion. “Why would you do that? You figure if you get rid of me, you can get my sister into bed?”

  Dana turned pale. Infuriated at the kid’s insulting audacity, Jason was halfway out of his chair when Dana shot him a quelling look. She leveled a furious gaze on her brother and said quietly, “I think it’s time you did your studying.”

  Sammy looked ready to argue, but Dana’s expression stopped him. Finally he shrugged and left the room without a goodbye.

  “He owes you an apology,” Jason said, keeping a tight rein on his temper. “For that matter, he owes me one, too. Or maybe you should just wash his mouth out with soap.”

  Dana regarded him levelly. “That’s a little outdated, isn’t it?”

  “It may be old-fashioned, but it’s effective when garbage comes out of a kid’s mouth.”

  “Look, he didn’t mean anything by it. He’s probably just feeling threatened. I don’t usually have men coming around. He doesn’t understand that this is just business.”

  Her expression dared him to contradict her. Jason ran his fingers through his hair in a gesture of pure frustration. By now his hair was probably every bit as mussed as hers. He was beginning to see how her style had evolved. Sammy seemed to have that effect on everyone.

  “Dana, you can’t make excuses for a kid that age. He needs to learn that there are consequences for stepping out of line. Did you punish him when he stole the VCR? I mean did you do something more than make him give it to the church?”

  Her hands were shaking when she finally looked at him. “This is none of your business.”

  “It is when he makes an ugly remark about our relationship.”

  “Since we don’t have a relationship, I don’t think we need to worry about any more remarks.”