That'll Be the Day

by Kress, Alyssa

  Inside he was thinking: quite the contrary.

  Richard's secretary spoke up. "Howard's been looking for you."

  "He has?" Ian glanced down at his watch. "We weren't supposed to meet until nine." It was a quarter of, but that was just like Howard, to put out a buzz, create a sense of urgency. Ian looked up again and smiled. "Guess Howard wants to start early. See ya around."

  "Yeah, see ya around."

  "Go get 'em."

  "Good to have you back."

  Ian nodded and continued down the hall. So far, so good. His stomach was in knots, he could feel a headache coming on, and his heart was pounding like a pile driver. But no one could tell.

  At least, Ian hoped no one could tell.

  He turned at the end of the hall and came to Howard's foyer. "Hey, Diane," he said, greeting Howard's personal secretary.

  "Ian. It's so good to see you." The middle-aged woman's smile seemed genuine, but Ian read a certain wariness beneath her warmth. She wasn't sure he was going to behave himself and refrain from collapsing on the floor.

  Yup, Ian had definitely gone down in office legend. "I hear Howard's already waiting for me," he said.

  Diane moved her head in the direction of the inner door. "Go on in."

  Ian smiled and moved past Diane's desk toward Howard's inner door. His heart was thumping heavily, his nerves were singing. He had to ask himself: why was he doing this? Why was he putting himself through this torture? He had no burning desire to build a goddamn music center. He didn't actually need this job.

  Ian almost stopped right there. He could turn around. Go home, or better yet, drive to Maggie's nursery. He didn't need this grief.

  But then, paused with his hand on the knob of his boss's door, he remembered. He didn't need the job, but he did need his self-respect. He needed to know he could get past his fears. He needed to prove to himself he could get back into the world. That he didn't share his son's anxiety. He could handle this.

  Ian closed his eyes. Drawing in a deep breath, he opened the door.

  Howard stood with three other men. They all bent over a pile of blueprints laid on a flat table in the center of Howard's office.

  His boss's head came up when Ian entered the room. "Ian," he boomed. "Thought you'd never get here."

  Ian was twelve minutes early, but Howard did that, changed the facts, tried to set the other guy off balance. Ian had never let Howard get to him in the past. Today, however, he could feel his nerves ratchet another notch tighter.

  Determined to pretend he was cool, however, he smiled his way into the room. "Well, I'm here now. What's up?"

  "You gotta get a load of this." Howard chuckled. "The architect is friggin' crazy."

  Ian shot a glance toward the three other men. Presumably, none of them were from the architect's office. "Hello. I'm Ian Muldaur. How do you do?" He held out his hand.

  The man directly to Howard's right was first to accept Ian's hand. "John Corbeley."

  "Vincent Moreland."

  "Lloyd Capparelli."

  The men shook hands all around.

  "We're from Music First, the nonprofit that's financing the music center," John explained to Ian. His expression grew rueful as he turned back to Howard. "We're counting on you guys to rein this architect in. We wanted his flair, but somebody's got to show this fellow where the ground is."

  "Look," Howard commanded Ian. "Just take a look at this." He jabbed his forefinger onto the blueprint."

  Ian looked down. On the twenty-four by thirty-six inch drawing, which should have showed precise dimensions and construction details, he saw a beautifully rendered sketch of a swan about to take off in flight.

  "Wings," Howard declared. "The guy thinks he's gonna build wings." He leaned closer to Ian and lowered his voice, as if imparting a dirty joke. "Out of marble." Howard laughed.

  The other men around the table looked a little sick.

  Ian kept his gaze on the drawing. "It doesn't look like we're very close to construction documents." He was stating the obvious.

  John Corbeley stuck a finger in his collar. "Like I said, we're counting on you guys to get this fellow up to speed."

  Ian could feel his brain shifting gears, taking in all the relevant information, sifting and categorizing, then analyzing points of attack. They would need to send a man to Spain, or wherever the hell this architect had his office and lead him by the hand. Might be they should hire a separate, local architect for construction administration altogether, somebody who could do the nuts and bolts work, specifying materials and drawing change orders. But no matter how much they tried to simplify the flying swan, it was going to be a complicated project, something one-of-a-kind.

  FedExes would be flying every day. There'd be plane trips and teleconferencing. All kinds of objectives: financial, programming, and straight-out construction. It was exactly the sort of project Ian would have loved to have sunk his teeth into a month ago.

  Now, looking down at the impossible drawing, adding up in his head all the work that had to be done before they could even break ground—let alone all the problems he could foresee after that—Ian felt as if the water level were rising above his head.

  I can't do this. I can't handle it. It's way beyond me now. Ian kept his eyes on the drawing and started to formulate a polite and not-too-embarrassing exit line. Well, yes, I thought I was going to do this job for you, but now that I'm here I realize just how small and weak I really am.

  "So," Howard said and straightened from the drawing. "What do you think?"

  I think I just may confirm your secretary's worst fears and collapse on your office rug. Buying time, Ian bent over the drawing. He didn't want to collapse. Truth be told, he didn't want to resign, either. Or at least, he didn't want the shame of it.

  Unfortunately, the pretend game was no longer working so great, not with the full challenge laid out on the table in front of him.

  What he needed, Ian thought, was a reward. Something he'd get as a prize if he got through this meeting, if he made it through the day.

  And just like that Ian remembered Maggie melting in his arms the night before. Maggie digging her fingers into his pants.

  He felt his lips curve.

  "What are you thinking?" Howard asked.

  Ian wanted to laugh. He could sense Howard's confidence in his golden boy finally starting to shake. Meanwhile, the three men from Music First were probably wondering why they'd hired Brockton on the basis of this guy's CV. But it was okay. He'd just thought of his reward, and it was a doozy.

  Make it through the day, and you get Maggie.

  Still smiling, Ian straightened from the table.

  "Yeah?" Howard demanded.

  Ian addressed all four of them. "We make an interdisciplinary team. A guy from our office, one from a well-grounded architect in Kansas City, and one from the swan-architect's office. They start in Spain—"

  "The architect's based in Milan," Vincent Moreland put in.

  "They start in Italy," Ian went on, hardly missing a beat. "Faxes and FedExes back and forth to Kansas City, where the final construction documents get made. The team then moves to Kansas City, where swan-guy's fellow oversees the artistic side of things. But wherever they are, the team stays together to make sure all aspects of the project are addressed: aesthetics, construction, and finances."

  There was a short silence. Then a big, wide smile spread over Howard's face. The three guys from Music First in Kansas City seemed less gloomy. Ian knew he was grinning, too, and probably fatuously so. He didn't care. He'd found a way to get through the day. And a completely delightful way, too. Ah, he could practically taste her again. There was a certain tang to her mouth...

  "Let's sit down," Howard spoke up. "We can get into specifics."

  At the mention of specifics, Ian could feel his brain start clicking again, shifting yet more gears. Who to send? What would the timing be like? But he set the whole problem in a fuzzy, visionary part of his mind. He wasn't really in char
ge, had no real responsibility for it all. He was just pretending.

  And if he pretended well enough, there would be Maggie. Oh sure, that was just more pretend. He couldn't really promise himself the sexual capitulation of another person, and one who'd made it clear she was extremely wary of any such thing.

  But it sure was fun to imagine.

  "I have a few ideas," Ian said and went to sit with the rest of them.

  ~~~

  At five o'clock on Tuesday, Maggie washed her hands in the tiny bathroom at the nursery and grabbed her car keys from the hook under her desk. She was ready to leave for the day.

  The telephone sat on the sales counter, taunting her.

  She stopped for a moment, glaring at the nasty instrument.

  The damn man hadn't called her, not once all day. He hadn't thought to let her know what he'd decided to do about his job or how it was going.

  Of course, he didn't owe her a thing. Just because he'd kissed her and touched her so amazingly didn't commit either one of them to phone calls or any of the other trappings of a relationship.

  Maggie chewed her lower lip. She was a little worried about him, of course—but that didn't mean she was enthralled. Just because none of her carefully selected boyfriends had ever given her the kind of physical excitement Ian had provided her last night didn't mean she was in any way attached to the man.

  Narrowing her eyes at the phone, she made a purposeful sweep out of the nursery.

  It did occur to her as she strode away that she could call Ian. She didn't have to wait on his favors.

  But, dammit, she wanted him to call her.

  "Yoga," Maggie muttered to herself as she started her old Toyota. Rather than stick around at home, pining for a man's non-forthcoming phone call, she'd make her own plans for the evening. The local rec center was offering a yoga class twice a week. She'd been thinking about signing up for ages. Yoga would be a perfect way to clear her mind and refresh her body.

  With the yoga class firmly in mind, she drove home. But as she walked the path to her front door, she heard the sound of the phone ringing inside.

  Gasping, she fumbled for her keys. Finally, she managed to get the front door open. Dammit, she thought, even as she was doing this. I am acting ridiculous. Dammit, dammit, dammit. Then she opened the door, ran into the kitchen, and grabbed the phone off the hook.

  She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. Low and mellow, she said, "Hello?"

  "Maggie." Ian's deep voice acted like molasses, making everything inside Maggie slow down and get stuck. "I'm so glad you're already at home."

  "Just walked in the door," she decided to admit, albeit casually, as if she hadn't scrambled like a madwoman to get to the phone.

  There was a low rumble of laughter on the other end of the line. "You don't know how many times today I was tempted to call you. But I wanted to wait...sort of make it a—" He paused. "Well, yeah, a reward."

  With her eyes closed, Maggie smiled and leaned against the refrigerator. So that's why he hadn't called. She was a reward. "Did you do something worth being rewarded?"

  "I made it through the day." Ian's voice lowered. "You have no idea how iffy that was."

  "Mm." Maggie chest felt tight. "But you did it."

  "Yeah." There was another pause. "I did."

  There was a short silence while Maggie let the whole thing sink into her, the fact Ian had wanted to talk to her all day, the fact he'd called her the very first minute he could, the fact his voice sounded so warm and delightful in her ear. Not least, the fact he was confiding in her.

  "Listen," Ian said. "I know you're— Well, after last night... But I was hoping you would help me celebrate, anyway. Dinner."

  The deep register of his voice on the last word had Maggie's eyes jumping open. Dinner with Ian? Oh, no. Dinner would mean too much. Dinner implied she was considering a relationship with him. And she wasn't. The man had way too much power over her—dangerous power.

  "With the kids," Ian smoothly added. "Of course."

  Maggie cleared her clogged throat. Oh, of course. He'd sensed her wavering, and so decided to tack that on. God, he was a menace, the way he could read her like that, the way he could make her heart pound with the mere sound of his voice, the way she could feel herself start to give in.

  Because she did want to see him, oh so much. And the kids would be there. What could happen?

  A lot, you idiot. A whole hell of a lot.

  "All right," Maggie heard herself say anyway, her voice soft and sweet. "What time?"

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Ian got Maggie to agree to let him pick her up in his car for his 'celebration' dinner instead of driving her own car to meet them somewhere. He felt triumphant about managing this particular dicey negotiation. It meant that at six-thirty, with the kids in the backseat, he pulled into Maggie's driveway to pick her up. He couldn't have been feeling more flush.

  When things started turning up roses, they really sprouted those flowers in bushels. He'd made it through a day of work. He'd corralled his kids into coming out to dinner with him. And he was now on the point of collecting the woman in his life. Indeed, she hadn't even put up a fuss about coming along.

  Ian knew he was grinning as he put the car into park and turned off the motor. "You guys wait here. I'll run in and get Maggie."

  "What, I don't get to pet Osiris?" Kathy peered eagerly out the car window.

  "Not this time, sweetheart. Uh, we have those reservations. No time to fool around."

  Thankfully, Kathy seemed to accept this explanation and kept her seat belt on. Andy just stared out the opposite car window. Other than a grunted acceptance of the dinner invitation, he hadn't said a word to Ian since he'd come home from the office.

  So much for heart-to-heart talks, Ian thought fleetingly, and then he was out of the car and on the path to Maggie's front door. His mind slid onto a more pleasant track. His heart felt light in his chest, while excitement zoomed through his veins.

  Oh, he knew that business about getting Maggie for a reward at the end of the day had just been pretend, but it was fun to continue the game. Besides, who knew? The lady might turn out to be willing...

  The front door opened before he had a chance to knock. Maggie stood there wearing a flowered peasant skirt with a softly flowing blouse.

  "I heard you drive up," she said and, if he wasn't completely deluded, then blushed. "Shall we go?" She started to walk out the door.

  "Oh, but you forgot your purse," Ian hastily observed.

  "What?" Maggie automatically stopped and looked down.

  Ian took the opportunity to mount the steps of her front stoop and push past her into the house.

  "I have my purse, Ian." Maggie turned back into the house, where Ian had gone to bend over her foyer table.

  "No, no. It's in here somewhere." He rummaged a hand through the many small items on the foyer table.

  "Ian." She walked up, probably to halt his ridiculous rifling.

  Turning, Ian took her in his arms.

  With a gasp, she flashed her eyes up at him.

  Ian smiled. "I guess you're right, you do have your purse. But you don't have this." He lowered his mouth to hers.

  Though she started in surprise, it didn't take her long to get into the idea. Her lips, tasting like a strong brandy, softened under his. Her palms pressed against his chest.

  It was a moment of shimmering promise.

  Then she was pushing against him with her palms. "Ian," she murmured. "The kids."

  He hummed in disappointment, but she was right. The kids were waiting. On the other hand, that kiss... Ian drew back to look at her.

  She gazed back at him, her eyes looking soft.

  Wait. Did her eyes maybe even look...willing?

  Then she turned, as if she didn't want him to see any more. "Come on. We have to go."

  Somehow, Ian managed to follow Maggie out of the house, to wait while she locked up, then walk her to the car, all with the façade
of no-big-deal. But inside he was reeling. The question loomed large within him.

  What if it didn't have to be just pretend? What if the lady was, after all, willing?

  ~~~

  Stuck in the car in Maggie's driveway, Andy raised his elbow to the ledge of the window and glared at the front of Aunt Maggie's tiny little house. "What's taking them so long?" He hadn't wanted to go on this joke of a 'celebration' to begin with.

  What was to celebrate? His dad was going back to work. Whoop-de-doo. He probably wasn't healthy enough to do it, but his father didn't care. His work was more important than anything else in the world.

  On the other side of the car, Kathy stretched and yawned. "Oh, they won't be too long. He's just kissing her."

  Andy continued staring at the house. It was a long moment before he actually heard what Kathy had said. Then he whipped his head around. "What?"

  Kathy lifted a shoulder. "They don't want us to know yet, so they'll keep it short."

  "What?" Andy barked again.

  "Come on, Andy." Kathy laughed. "Are you blind?"

  Andy's eyes were wide on his sister. "You're making this up." She had to be. His dad...and Aunt Maggie? That was disgusting.

  Kathy leaned toward him. "They've been spending every day together, even when they don't have to. And when they come home, they're laughing. I haven't seen Dad so happy since—well, since you know. And Aunt Maggie." Kathy rolled her eyes. "I've never seen her like this at all. She is, like, totally in love."

  Andy gagged. "No."

  Kathy leaned back again with a smug smile. "You don't have to believe me. You'll see...soon enough."

  "No," Andy said again. But a coldness invaded his bones. They had been spending time together, even after his dad supposedly hadn't had to be babysat. But that didn't mean—just because they'd been laughing— "You're wrong," Andy said but didn't know if he were trying to convince Kathy or himself. It couldn't be true. Aunt Maggie wouldn't have gone over to the enemy. She wouldn't do that!

  Just then Aunt Maggie walked out of the house. Ian was right on her heels. She looked kind of embarrassed. He looked thoughtful.

  No, Andy thought, studying them with a frown. Kathy wasn't right. There couldn't be anything going on between them. But he felt the sting of betrayal.