The Bravo Family Way

by Christine Rimmer

  He led her away from the living room, through another opening to their right. They walked down a hallway, past a marble-walled kitchen on one side and an elegant dining room on the other, into a family room with walls upholstered in some warm reddish-brown fabric and comfortable-looking soft sofas and chairs.

  A little girl sat cross-legged on the kilim rug in the middle of the room. She wore blue capris with pink piping at the hems and a lime-green T-shirt, also trimmed in pink. On her small feet were pink socks with green appliqués and pink Keds. A book lay open across her knees.

  She looked up as they entered and regarded them with shining, oh-so-serious brown eyes. “Hi, Daddy.” She closed her book. “I was reading Livvy The Funny Little Bunny.”

  A plump, friendly-looking blond girl rose from an easy chair not far from the child. “Hello, Mr. Bravo. We’ve just been reading a bit before Ashlyn goes down for her nap.”

  Fletcher said, “Cleo, this is Olivia, Ashlyn’s nanny.” Cleo and the nanny smiled and nodded at each other.

  Ashlyn jumped to her feet and held out her little hand. “And I’m Ashlyn. I’m almost five.”

  Cleo took the small fingers in hers. She looked into those big brown eyes and she wanted to pull the child close, to press a kiss to the sleek crown of her head.

  She couldn’t help herself. She was captivated by Fletcher’s bright, beautiful, oh-so-serious child. There was something about Ashlyn that reminded Cleo way too much of herself as a child, something in her solemn manner, in those wide, too-wise eyes.

  Ashlyn said, still in that grave way of hers, “You’re pretty. And very tall.”

  “Why, thank you, Ashlyn.”

  “You’re almost as tall as my Daddy, I bet.”

  “Just about.”

  “You can let go of my hand now.”

  “All right.” She released the small, soft fingers.

  Ashlyn put both hands behind her back but held her ground, dark head tipped back, those serious eyes scanning Cleo’s down-turned face. “It’s nine days.” She brought her hands front again and held up all her fingers, small face puckered up. Then she bent her right thumb to her palm and turned both hands, backside-first, to Cleo. “Nine.”

  “Very good.”

  “It’s arithmetic.”

  “Yes. What’s nine days?”

  “Until my birthday. I’m having a party. Not on my birthday but the Saturday after. There will be clowns and rides and a magic show. A lot of kids are coming.” She seemed to reach a decision. “You can come, too.”

  “Why, I…”

  “There will be cake.”

  “Well, that is tempting.”

  “And ice cream.” Fletcher spoke from behind her.

  Cleo looked back at him and knew by his carefully composed expression that he was hiding a smile. “Devious,” she muttered.

  He said, “Whatever it takes.”

  She turned back to the child. And Ashlyn asked, so simply and sweetly, “Will you come to my party?”

  Cleo said the first word that popped into her head. It just happened to be, “Yes.”

  Fletcher insisted on escorting Cleo to the parking garage and out to her car.

  Neither spoke as they got off the elevator they’d taken from his apartment and crossed to the ones that went to the parking garages. They got on an empty car and went down to C level. When the doors slid open, she turned to him.

  “It really isn’t necessary for you to—”

  “But I want to.” He signaled her to exit ahead of him and then fell in beside her once the elevator door had shut behind them. Their footsteps echoing on concrete, they walked the five rows to her green SUV.

  Cleo had her key ready. She pushed the remote lock button. The SUV beeped twice, the sound very loud in the cavernous space.

  She made the obligatory polite noises. “Thank you. It was an excellent lunch.”

  He moved in closer—too close, really. She saw again the blue that rimmed those pale gray irises. She smelled that tempting aftershave. She might have moved away a step, put a little space between them. But the SUV was at her back.

  He said, as if continuing a conversation that had never been interrupted, “So many children here and at High Sierra who can gain so much from what you have to give them…”

  Again she tried to remember all the reasons it wouldn’t work to put a KinderWay in his resort. Those reasons seemed meaningless now. “I can’t believe I’m thinking of saying yes to this.”

  “Believe it. Say yes.”

  “There are…permits and procedures we’d have to—”

  “We’ll cross every T in sight, dot every last damn I.”

  “I’ll have to hire an entire second staff, start from the bottom up. That will take—”

  “It’s manageable. All of it. And it won’t take long. Believe me.”

  She felt a silly smile tremble across her mouth. “You’re interrupting me again.”

  “Sorry. Did I tell you I’m impatient?”

  “You did. Yes.”

  “You won’t regret this, Cleo. That’s a promise.”

  It all seemed so simple by then. From all wrong to exactly right in the space of a few hours. Was that crazy? Maybe.

  Then again, no. Not crazy at all. It was a fabulous opportunity and she’d be crazy to pass it up.

  “Come on,” said Fletcher. “Say yes.” He held out his hand.

  She took it. “Yes,” she said, those forbidden, hot little flares of awareness racing through her at his touch.

  “Excellent.” He gave her hand a firm shake and then released it. “I’ll call you tomorrow. We’ll set up a meeting ASAP with the lawyers, get all the paperwork handled. Then you can get started looking for the people you’ll need.” He reached around behind her, grabbed the door latch and pulled it open for her.

  Feeling suddenly dazed, she swung up into the seat. She stared at him wide-eyed. “Did I just say yes?”

  He grinned. “You did. No going back now.” He pushed the door shut and stepped back.

  For a moment, still bemused at the choice she had just made, she only sat there and stared at him through the side window. He lifted an eyebrow, clearly wondering if for some reason she’d changed her mind about leaving.

  Feeling foolish, she shook herself and stabbed her key into the ignition. The engine turned over and caught. She backed out of the space, so rattled by what she had just agreed to that she came within an inch of hitting a car in the row behind her.

  She slammed on the brakes and looked over at Fletcher, who still stood where she’d left him.

  He mouthed the word, “Careful.”

  She put it in drive and got the heck out of there. Every nerve in her body was humming. Very strange. Definitely scary.

  And no, she didn’t let herself look in her rearview mirror to see if he was still standing there watching as she drove away.

  Chapter Four

  That night in bed, before she turned out the light, Cleo called Danny and told him that she would open a KinderWay at Impresario after all.

  “Good for you,” Danny said.

  She relaxed into her pillows, realizing she’d been vaguely worried he wouldn’t like the idea, that he might be a little jealous, might remember that blue box on the entry hall table last Tuesday night and suspect that Fletcher Bravo would be putting the moves on her. But no. Not Danny. He didn’t have a jealous bone in his body.

  “Oh, Danny. You think so? You really think it’s the right way to go?”

  “You bet. I think it’s a smart move. And I’m glad you decided not to let what happened when you were a kid keep you from accepting a great offer right now.”

  She caught a curl of her hair and wrapped it around her index finger as she teased into the phone, “Who says I was doing anything as neurotic as that?”

  “Hey. I didn’t say it was neurotic.”

  “Close enough.”

  “Aw, come on. It’s natural for a person to stay away from the things that scare
them, the things that have messed them over in the past. It only gets to be a problem if you let what scares you keep you from doing what’s going to be good for you now.”

  Sometimes Danny’s insights did amaze her. “You know, I think you missed your calling. You should have been a shrink.”

  “Uh-uh. You need a college education for that. I’ll pass. I had enough trouble makin’it through high school.”

  “If you say so. It’s the mental-health profession’s loss.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “And Danny?”

  “Huh?”

  “I wasn’t scared. Did I say I was scared?”

  “You didn’t have to say it. There was no reason for you to turn down such a great offer—except that you’d have to be around the business that you always say wrecked your mom’s life.”

  There’s another reason, a knowing voice in the back of her mind whispered.

  That other reason was Fletcher Bravo himself. A man way too much like the men Lolita Bliss could never resist. A man with power. With juice, as they say. A man who liked a challenge, liked the chase, liked going after a woman he thought he couldn’t have…

  And just a second here. How the heck did she know if Fletcher Bravo was that kind of man? Yes, he had power and influence. But that didn’t necessarily make him a dog. He wasn’t married. He was an eligible bachelor. Of course he would date. He could go out with a different woman every night if he wanted to and no one had a right to judge him for it.

  And why was she obsessing over Fletcher anyway?

  Really, she had to stop thinking about him.

  If Fletcher Bravo gave her a thrill, so what? She was going nowhere with it. She was sticking with Danny, who was exactly the man she’d been looking for all her life.

  “Cleo? You still with me.”

  “Yes. I am.”

  He laughed his goofy laugh. “I like the way you say that.”

  They talked some more. He told her about a beautiful old Mustang he was restoring. She described the fabulous facility Fletcher had had built in the blink of an eye.

  Danny was so sweet and supportive. “Sounds good, Cleo. Really good…”

  Before they said good-night, they set a date for dinner Wednesday.

  The next morning at ten, Fletcher called her at KinderWay. “Can you make it at two to go over the contract?”

  “I’ll need to have my lawyer look it over first.”

  “You think you need a lawyer, do you?”

  “I wouldn’t sign a contract without consulting one.”

  “Good answer.”

  “How about this…I’ll come in and pick up the papers. I’ll take them to my lawyer. If I don’t have any questions, I’ll sign them and bring them back.”

  “Fair enough. Come at one. We’ll have lunch.”

  “You don’t miss a beat, do you?”

  He made a low sound. It might have been a chuckle. “Rarely.”

  She hesitated. And then she felt silly. It was only lunch, which she’d be eating in any case. She agreed to meet him at High Sierra’s Placer Room, where the food was supposed to be almost as good as at Club Rouge.

  Again there was champagne.

  “To celebrate your decision to bring KinderWay to Impresario,” Fletcher said as the wine steward poured.

  Like the day before, Cleo only had one glass. What did she need with alcohol anyway? She was flying high naturally, feeling giddy and excited at the prospect of the big job she’d taken on. It was the right time to expand, she realized now. And she couldn’t wait to get things moving, get that gorgeous new facility staffed and ready for the kids who needed it.

  Once they’d ordered and the waiter left them alone, Fletcher wanted to know more about her childhood and about the shows she’d been in while she’d worked her way through college.

  She shook her head. “Uh-uh. Your turn.”

  He tried to put her off. “I know all about my life. I want to hear about yours.”

  But she wasn’t letting him push her around. She repeated, “Your turn.”

  He gave in and told her that he’d been born in Dallas. “My mother was working the graveyard shift at the Pancake Palace. Blake Bravo came in for a cheese omelet with sausage and a short stack on the side. For her, it was love at first sight.”

  “And for Blake?”

  “No way to say. He was gone in the morning and she never saw him again—not until about thirty years later, when she opened her morning newspaper and saw his picture under the headline Notorious Bravo Dies for the Second Time.”

  “Your mom raised you on her own?”

  “For the first ten years she did. Then she met my stepdad. They married and we moved to Ocean City. My stepdad serviced vending machines, had his own little business—still has it and does all right at it, too. They have two daughters, my half sisters, Cathy and Anna-Marie. Cathy’s at NYU and Anna-Marie is a senior in high school.” His expression had softened.

  “You’re crazy about your sisters.” That pleased her.

  “Yes, I am.” He said it with real enthusiasm. “Cathy’s studying microbiology. And Anna-Marie says she wants to be a writer—at least right now. She’s at that age where it’s always something new.”

  “I wish I had sisters. Or brothers. I’m not picky. Family counts, you know?” Her hand rested on the snowy tablecloth.

  He laid his over it. “I know.”

  She felt the warmth of his skin against hers and she wanted to…

  No. Uh-uh. Not going there.

  Carefully she pulled her hand away.

  As they were leaving the restaurant, they stopped off at a corner table and Fletcher introduced her to his half-brother Aaron and to Aaron’s wife Celia, who was also Aaron’s personal assistant.

  Celia, who had a cute heart-shaped face and red hair, was pregnant. Very pregnant. She looked as if she’d swallowed a watermelon, as if she would have that baby right then and there, over lunch. She confided, “Our oldest, Davey, is just three. He’ll be attending your school.” She put her hand on her huge stomach. “And so will this one, when the time comes.” Her hazel eyes twinkled. “I’m so glad you decided to bring KinderWay here.”

  “I’m pretty excited about it myself,” Cleo said.

  At her side Fletcher laughed—a low, knowing laugh that played along her nerve endings. “To hear her talk now, you’d never guess how hard I had to work to convince her she needed to do this.”

  Aaron held out a hand. “Welcome to the Bravo Group family.”

  Cleo took it and they shook. She met Aaron’s blue eyes and wondered what he might be thinking. Like the Bravo standing beside her, it was hard to figure out what could be going through his mind.

  Fletcher put a hand—so lightly—at the small of her back. “Okay, we’ll let you two enjoy your lunch in peace.” Cleo went where he guided her, stunningly aware of the press of his palm against the base of her spine.

  They took the elevator to the office tower. As they stepped into the car, Cleo eased away from him. She turned and backed against the brass railing that ran along the mirrored elevator walls.

  They looked at each other, neither of them speaking. She found herself achingly aware of how small the space was, how with only a step or two she would be in his arms.

  Crazy. Ridiculous. She was not, under any circumstances, going to end up in Fletcher Bravo’s arms.

  She shifted her gaze and she was looking at her own reflection in the mirrored wall behind him. Did she look as guilty as she felt?

  Before she could decide if she did or not, the elevator whooshed to a stop and the doors parted.

  Marla had a manila envelope all ready for her. Cleo took it with a smile. “Thanks.”

  From behind her Fletcher said, “I’ll see you to your car.”

  No way, she thought, as she turned to him. She made a joke of her refusal. “You don’t want to do that. You saw the way I pull out of parking spaces. I might actually run over you this time.”

 
; “I’ll take my chances.”

  Danny had said it that night last week: He’s after you.

  And he was. He still was: his hand on hers at the table; his palm settling so possessively at the small of her back as they left the restaurant…

  Subtle, knowing touches. What a man does to draw a woman in. Nothing obvious. Nothing blatant. Making it so very easy to pretend it isn’t happening…

  But it was happening. And she had to stop denying, stop pretending it wasn’t.

  Guilt tightened her stomach as she remembered how she’d assured Danny that she wasn’t interested.

  Liar, she silently accused herself. She was interested. She just didn’t want to be—no. Wrong, damn it.

  She wasn’t going to be. She was stopping this slow and oh-so-clever seduction, stopping it right here and now.

  She drew herself up. “No,” she said firmly. “I enjoyed the lunch. Thank you.”

  He held her gaze for a second too long. She felt the heat zipping back and forth, arcing between them. And then he said silkily, “No need for thanks. I’m pleased that we’re going to be working together.”

  Cleo saw her lawyer the next morning. The lawyer said everything looked good, so she took the signed papers back to Impresario that day. She made a point of not calling first, which meant she ended up handing the envelope over to Marla, who promised to see that Fletcher got it right away.

  That duty discharged, Cleo returned to her office at KinderWay and started making lists, getting her priorities in order for all the work that lay ahead.

  Fletcher called at three. “You should have told me you were stopping by.”

  “No reason for that.” She spoke much too briskly. “I only dropped off the contract.”

  He was silent. But not for long. “You’ll need keys to the facility. Did you want to conduct your interviews there?”

  Her face felt hot. She laid her hand against her cheek. Blushing. Definitely. This was so absurd.

  “Cleo?”

  She realized she hadn’t answered him. What was the question?

  Oh, yeah. About the interviews…