Man of the Hour

by Diana Palmer

  “It’s nothing against Miss Campbell,” Lorna assured him, “but I think Mack would be more…accessible. I’ve spent the entire morning trying to track down Miss Campbell, who seems to be celebrating her engagement with a little, shall we say, excessive enthusiasm? You know how the job can suffer when people have their heads in the clouds,” she added with a silvery little laugh.

  Why, you vicious shrew, Kirry was thinking. In one stroke, Lorna had managed to make her look like an incompetent airhead.

  “I was late to work, yes,” Kirry said angrily. “But it was hardly dereliction of duty…!”

  “Miss Campbell,” Mr. Lancaster said sharply, and smiled pointedly. “ We wouldn’t want to alienate Miss McLane, now, would we?”

  Kirry flushed. “Excuse me. I’m sorry that I wasn’t available this morning, and I can assure you that in the future…”

  “In the future, I would prefer to deal with Mack,” she said, smiling at her warmly. “He and I will get along very well. And this account is so important….” She let her voice trail away.

  Kirry was being railroaded, and the Lancasters were taking it all in without question. Mrs. Lancaster’s friendship with Lorna obviously inclined her to believe whatever the former model told her. She gave Kirry a speaking glance.

  “Indeed the account is important,” Mrs. Lancaster said coolly. “I’m sure that Miss Campbell won’t mind letting Mack take it over.”

  The inference was that she’d better not mind. Kirry was losing ground and she didn’t know how to regain it.

  “Of course I don’t mind,” she said diplomatically. “Miss McLane’s satisfaction must be our first priority.”

  Lorna inclined her head graciously. “I’m delighted that you’re willing to cooperate. Heaven forbid that I should cause any trouble. But this promotion must be perfect. And it will lead to others. I have many connections in the fashion industry.”

  “I’m aware of that, my dear,” Mrs. Lancaster said brightly. “Your influence is far-reaching, indeed.”

  Mr. Lancaster was watching Kirry closely. “You have other accounts to service, I presume?” he asked her curtly. It was the first time he’d taken any real interest in what she did for his company.

  “I’ve been working on a promotional campaign for a new chain of soup and salad bars,” Kirry told him. “The first television ad runs tonight, in fact, at eight.”

  “We’ll be sure to watch,” he informed her.

  Kirry was confident that the campaign would be successful, and she wasn’t worried, despite the faint threat in Lancaster’s voice. She was obviously on trial now, thanks to Lorna’s dirty work, but she wouldn’t cower. She held her head up through the rest of the meeting and smiled as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

  “I hope I’ll be invited to the wedding,” Lorna told Lang as the meeting broke up. “And the first christening, of course.”

  Lang didn’t smile. “That was a low thing to do,” he said quietly. “Whatever vendettas you have against me shouldn’t extend to Kirry. She’s never done anything to hurt you.”

  “No?” Lorna’s eyes glittered. “She took you away from me, didn’t she?”

  “No woman can take a man who isn’t willing,” he informed her. “You and I are water and wax. We’re too different to make a pair.”

  “You wanted me!” she accused.

  He nodded. “You were an important part of my life for a while. I hope I was as important to you. But I never told you any lies, or made any promises, and you damned well know it.”

  She was barely in control of her temper. She glanced at Kirry, talking to Mrs. Lancaster, and took a sharp breath. “She looks slept with,” she said bluntly, looking up in time to catch Lang’s expression. “So that’s it. Poor little compromised virgin. Did you feel obligated to offer her marriage in exchange, Lang?” she asked. “How interesting. Do you know what sort of people the Lancasters are? They’re fundamentalists.”

  “Are you making threats, Lorna?” he asked.

  “Why, yes, I am,” she said with a smile. “Either you break that engagement or I’ll give the Lancasters an earful about her lack of morals. And when I get through, she won’t have a job…or a reference. You do know what I mean, don’t you, dear?”

  She walked away, smiling. Lang stared after her with murderous eyes. He hadn’t dreamed that she could be so spiteful. He’d taken her out to make Kirry jealous, but he hadn’t done it in any spiteful or obvious way. For all Lorna knew, he was simply renewing an old acquaintance. Only Lorna had taken it seriously, and she wanted to play for keeps. Now Lang was between a rock and a hard place. Either he had to marry Kirry immediately or give her up, because if Lorna carried through with her threat, Kirry would literally be asked to sacrifice her career. Her job meant a lot to her. He knew too well how much careers mattered to some women….

  “You’re very quiet,” Kirry remarked when they were on the way down to Bob and Connie’s house in Floresville. “What’s wrong?”

  He glanced at her and back at the road. “Just thinking. Have you seen anything of Erikson today?”

  She shook her head and wrapped her arms tightly around her chest, leaning back in the seat with a shiver. “Could you turn up the heat, Lang?”

  “Sure.” He frowned. “You aren’t catching a cold, are you?”

  She shook her head. “I’m just tired and worried. The Lancasters didn’t like what Lorna said at lunch, I know they didn’t. What if they think I’m too incompetent to keep on?”

  “Aren’t you good at your job?”

  “Well, yes, but so are a lot of other people. I’m original, at least. Which is more than I can say for poor old Mack,” she said, grimacing. “He doesn’t like Lorna and he hates high fashion. He finds it boring. He’s not going to do a job she’ll like.”

  “What did you have in mind?” he asked, smiling.

  “A star-studded extravaganza with some socialites helping to model Lorna’s clothing line,” she said. “They’d not only love the limelight, they’d buy the clothes. It would mean quick sales and a lot more than just surface promotion. At least one local debutante has a father who owns a network of boutiques internationally. Even Lorna doesn’t have connections like that.” She shrugged. “But she’s not interested in my ideas. I tried to show her what I had in mind, and she just ignored me. She wouldn’t even listen.”

  “Pity she doesn’t have any competition,” he mused. “You could put her nose in a sling.”

  “She does have competition,” she remarked. “But they’re represented by another company and as far as I know, they don’t have any promotions planned for the rest of the year.”

  He gave her a lingering look at a traffic light. “There is such a thing as taking the bit between the teeth. Why don’t you go to the competition and outline your ideas and offer to take the thing on as an independent promoter?”

  She gasped. “That would be unethical.”

  “Give your notice at Lancaster. Change jobs. Gamble.”

  “Lang, I have bills to pay,” she exclaimed with a surprised laugh. “I can’t take a chance like that. I’m not a gambler.”

  “I’m not, either, as a rule. But sometimes you have to take a chance.”

  “You don’t take chances.”

  “No? I asked you to marry me.”

  She averted her eyes and stared out the window with a sinking heart.

  “That was badly put, wasn’t it?” he asked quietly. “I’m sorry. I was trying to cheer you up.”

  “Lorna saw right through you today,” she said. “She pushed you into a corner and as much as made you admit that you didn’t want to marry me.”

  His hand tightened on the steering wheel as he was forced to remember the threat Lorna had made.

  “I admitted nothing.”

  She turned in her seat, adjusting her seat belt, and studied his profile. “You aren’t ready,” she said simply. “To you, commitment is still the boogeyman. You think of marriage as a sort of prison, wit
h children as the chains that keep people there.”

  He winced. “Kirry…”

  She touched his sleeve, feeling the warm strength of his arm under it. “We can be engaged for a little while, until I make up my mind what I’m going to do—stay with the agency or take that chance and go independent. But I won’t take the engagement seriously, and I don’t want you to. Your conscience may sting for a while about what we did, but you’ll get over it. Nothing happened, Lang. We just made love. People do it all the time. No big deal.”

  “It was to me,” he said shortly, glowering down at her. “And if it was no big deal, why haven’t you done it before now with some other man?”

  She leaned her head against the seat and looked at him quietly. “You know why. You’ve always known. It’s because I belong to you.”

  His heart shivered in his chest. He couldn’t look at her again. She was tying him in knots, but they were of his own making. He didn’t want her to belong to him. He didn’t want to be a prisoner of his conscience or even of love.

  She withdrew her hand and looked out the windshield. She’d embarrassed him. At the very least, she’d made him uncomfortable. “Don’t torture yourself,” she said quietly. “I’m not asking for anything.”

  “I know that,” he said tersely.

  She closed her eyes, enjoying the company and the darkness as they sped toward Floresville. If only they could keep driving forever, she thought. It would be lovely not to have to go back to all her problems and the future, when Lang would be out of her life again, and forever this time.

  She was dreaming. Lang had made love to her, and they were sprawled under a big oak tree by a beautiful stream in a meadow, holding each other. He was whispering how much he loved her…

  “Will you wake up?” he demanded curtly, shaking her. “We’re here, and all hell has broken loose from the sound of things!”

  She sat up, her dream shattered by his harsh tone. “What?” she asked, confused.

  “Listen!”

  The car was sitting in the driveway of the old Victorian house where the Pattons lived. A loud voice—Bob’s—was disclaiming some accusation that came from Connie. In the background, a soft Spanish voice was trying to assert reason.

  “Housekeeper, my blue elbow! You were kissing her!” Connie was raging.

  “I was holding her while she cried, because you hurt her feelings!” Bob yelled. All three of them were outlined on the front porch. “You didn’t have to accuse her of being a home-wrecker!”

  “Well, she is!” Connie said. “She’s even taken over Mikey! He wants Teresa to read to him, he wants Teresa to take him to school, he wants Teresa to sit by him when we eat…he’s my son!”

  “He’d never know it, would he, when you’ve got your nose stuck in engines all day and half the night!”

  “Oh!” Connie threw up her hands and started to say something else when she noticed the car in the driveway. She smoothed down her greasy coveralls and glanced from the car to Bob.

  “Lang!” his brother exclaimed, grateful for the diversion. “Lang, is that you?”

  “Looks like it,” Lang said ruefully. He got out and waited for Kirry to join him at the steps. “We just got engaged and thought we’d come and tell you. This doesn’t look like the best time for an announcement.”

  “Engaged?” Connie stumbled. “You and Kirry? Again?”

  “We weren’t actually engaged then,” Lang said irritably. “We were almost engaged.”

  Connie’s face softened. “Well, well. And when are you getting married, soon?”

  “I wish everybody would stop asking that!” Lang burst out, running an irritated big hand through his hair.

  “We haven’t set a date,” Kirry said quickly. “It was very sudden. We haven’t really had a lot of time to talk about it, what with our jobs…”

  “Well, of course they haven’t,” Bob told his wife. “Can’t you stop throwing questions at them when they’ve only just gotten here? Teresa, make some coffee and slice some cake, will you?!”

  “Si, Señor Bob,” Teresa’s soft voice came back, followed by the scurrying of feet.

  “She’s a sweetheart,” Bob said with a smile. It faded when he looked at his haggard wife. “She doesn’t think so. She doesn’t even appreciate all the hard work Teresa does here to save her work.”

  “I’m sure Connie appreciates it, Bob,” Kirry interjected. “Can we go inside? I’m cold.”

  “It’s all but summer,” Lang muttered. “How can you have chills?”

  “Are you feverish?” Connie felt Kirry’s forehead. “Not at all, thank goodness. You know, I had chills when I got pregnant with Mikey…”

  “There’s no possibility whatsoever that Kirry’s pregnant,” Lang said shortly.

  “Oh, I know that, for heaven’s sake,” Connie muttered at him. “I was just making a statement.”

  Lang flushed, but no one noticed except Kirry. She averted her eyes. They’d taken precautions, and it had only been the one time. She couldn’t be pregnant. The thing was, precautions did fail one time out of a hundred…. But, no, she wouldn’t think about it.

  “This is Teresa.” Bob introduced the young Mexican-American woman with a smile. His eyes were twinkling as he looked at her. “Ninita, éste es mi hermano, Lang.”

  “Mucho gusto enconocerlo, señor,” she said with a smile. She had a lovely round figure and big brown eyes in a frame of long, jet black hair. She was a beauty. No wonder Connie was furious!

  “Y mi,” Lang replied. “Se alegro de trabajar aquí, señorita?” he added.

  “Oh, sí,” she said without enthusiasm, and she looked worried. “Éste familia es muy simpático, especialamente el ninito.”

  She liked Mikey. She didn’t mention liking Connie, who was glaring at everybody who spoke Spanish, because she didn’t.

  “Speak English,” Connie said harshly.

  “She’s learning. It takes time.” Bob shot back the words. “Stop being so unpleasant!”

  Connie put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “I will not. You’re imagining yourself in love with her, aren’t you?”

  Bob flushed. “For heaven’s sake…!”

  “Admit it, you coward!” Connie goaded him. “Come on, admit it!”

  “She’s a sweet, kind little thing who likes kids and housework and men!” he said finally, his dark eyes glaring at her. “How do you expect me to feel about her, when my wife looks and smells like a grease pit and never has time for me or her son?”

  Connie gasped and suddenly turned and ran for the bedroom, where she slammed the door with a loud sob.

  Bob grimaced. “Now I’ve done it.”

  Lang and Kirry exchanged looks. “I think we picked a bad night to come,” Lang began.

  “There aren’t any good ones,” he muttered. He saw Teresa’s huge eyes fill with tears and moved to put an arm around her. “No sea triste, amada,” he said softly. “Todo es bien.”

  “Everything is not well,” Lang replied darkly. “And she should be sad, since it seems to me that she’s about to break up your marriage. You’re a married man, Bob. Why don’t you act like it? The person who needs comforting is your wife, not your housekeeper.”

  Bob’s face flamed. He took his arm from around Teresa and glowered at Lang. “I don’t need you to tell me how to conduct my marriage!”

  “No?” Lang looked past him. Connie was coming out of the bedroom with a suitcase in one hand and Mikey by the other.

  “Where are we going, Mom?” he asked sleepily.

  “To my sister’s!” she informed the world. She glared at Bob. “When you come to your senses, if you do, I’ll be at Louise’s.”

  “What about your precious business out back?” he asked.

  “Put up a Closed sign. You can spell that, can’t you?” she asked sweetly. “In the meanwhile, Todd Steele has a vacancy for a mechanic in his garage, and he’ll hire me in a minute.”

  His eyes bulged. “I won’t have you workin
g for your ex-sweetheart who just got divorced!” he told her.

  “Why not? I’m about to be divorced myself!”

  “Connie!” he wailed.

  “Mom, why are you yelling at daddy?” Mikey asked, still drowsy and not making much sense of the confrontation.

  “Because he’s deaf,” Connie replied, glaring at her husband. “He doesn’t understand simple language like ‘fire her!’”

  “You can’t tell me who to fire in my own house,” Bob informed her.

  “It used to be my house, too, and Mikey’s,” Connie returned proudly. “Now it seems to be Teresa’s.”

  Bob seemed to realize all at once what was happening to his life. “She’s just the housekeeper,” he began.

  “That’s right,” Connie replied. “But you don’t treat her like one.”

  “You don’t treat me like a husband,” he retorted.

  Connie didn’t answer him. “Say good-night to everyone, Mikey,” she told their son.

  “Good night,” he said obligingly.

  Connie smiled apologetically at Lang and Kirry, ignored the others and stalked out the door with Mikey. Minutes later, her car started up and moved out of the driveway around Lang’s.

  Bob’s eyes narrowed. “Connie isn’t my wife, she’s the resident mechanic. She has no time for anything except her damned job! Mikey and I were just flotsam, don’t you realize that? She doesn’t want to be a wife and mother, she wants a career! Okay, I let her have it. But it’s not working out.”

  Kirry stared at Bob with carefully concealed horror. Was she seeing what marriage to Lang would be like, except in reverse? Would he only have time for his job, and his family would be little more than an afterthought?

  Lang, too, was having some difficulties with his thoughts. Kirry loved her job, too. She would be like Connie, trying to juggle a job and children, if she had any. It would be a division of loyalties that could be managed, if she loved and was loved enough. But he was seeing in Bob’s relationship with Connie all the inherent dangers of marriage. He didn’t like what he saw. He’d had cold feet before about marriage. They were ice-cold now.