The Boss and Miss Baxter

by Warren, Wendy

  Nina blew a long stream of air into the pillow. He was confusing her. She was getting all mixed up. There had been a moment in his kitchen that first night when he'd very carefully measured chocolate syrup into four glasses then just as carefully added soda. He'd kept lifting the glasses up, eyeballing them to make sure he had the perfect amounts of everything before he'd added his secret ingredient-a little shot of pure vanilla-and the tip of his tongue had rested on his lower lip as he'd concentrated. Nina had watched him, and in one unguarded second she'd thought to herself, What a wonderful dad.

  She groaned again.

  What a wonderful dad. That had to be the most dangerous thought a single mother could have about an unmarried man.

  In the next second, in that kitchen, she'd wanted to kiss David Hanson. Right on the mouth. And then before she'd been able to preempt it, she'd had a vision of them all on a beach-her, Izzy, Zach and David-with Zach and Izzy racing ahead and her throwing her arms around David's neck while he picked her up and whirled her round and round on the sand. In the vision, everyone was laughing. Everyone was happy. Everyone was going to be together forever.

  Help! She shook her head. Maybe she was feverish. She felt feverish.

  “I've got to stop this train before there's a wreck,” she said, her voice muffled by a three-hundred thread-count pillowcase. If she didn't slam the brakes on now, her next fantasy would feature Bubby baking the wedding cake.

  She hadn't known she could still harbor such daydreams.

  Feeling hotter and more claustrophobic by the second, she tossed the pillow aside and pushed her aching body to a sitting position. She didn't have her own apartment anymore; she couldn't leave now. But she could remind herself exactly why her life plan included her taking care of her family by herself and excluded inviting a man into the picture.

  Sitting on the bed with the soft light of the bedside lamp creating a private ambience, Nina forced herself to go to the one feeling that could always remind her why she'd decided not to risk loving anyone new.

  First she pictured faces, the perpetually smiling faces of her mother and father. Only in their thirties, in love with each other and their bright teenage daughter, they'd had every reason to smile. When Nina was fourteen, they'd gone on a second honeymoon. To welcome them home, Nina and Bubby had prepared a dinner that was the same meal they'd served at their wedding.

  Sitting on the bed in David's house, Nina closed her eyes and remembered the anticipation, the excitement as she looked forward to their surprise and to sitting down with her mother to listen to the details of the trip.

  “Marry a man whose hand you want to hold all your life,” her mother would tell her as she always had when talking about the man she loved.

  Nina had waited in the living room with Bubby, watching the clock. And watching. And watching. They hadn't been worried at first when her parents had been late. So many things could happen to delay an arrival from the airport. It had taken an hour and a half for Bubby to grow concerned enough to call the airline.

  Remember. Remember, Nina commanded herself as she slipped back into the heart of the girl who in an instant had lost the safety and joy she had known. Still, though losing her parents in a plane crash had been devastating, that wasn't what had convinced her to stop inviting people into her life.

  From fourteen to twenty-two, she had kept her heart open. Sometimes she'd thought it was her dreams that had saved her: the dreams of creating an intact family again, of recapturing the incomparable warmth of two parents and kids and wanting to hold someone's hand all your life.

  She'd been so ready to be married at eighteen. Ready to have two babies at an age when most young women were still in college.

  She had not been prepared to raise her children on her own. The end of the dream had felt like the loss of her parents all over again. In some ways it had been worse. For a long while she had found herself more lost, more depressed than before.

  It was the depression that had truly frightened her. With two babies and a full-time job, she couldn't afford not to get out of bed in the morning. Thank heavens she'd used her insurance and her lunch hour to get counseling. A sage therapist had taught her that she'd never completely grieved for her parents. That she'd used her dreams to keep them alive and to avoid the deep-down fear that she was somehow destined to be alone.

  So Nina had worked on grieving. When she hadn't been at work and when the kids had been in bed, she'd grieved. Slowly, she'd begun to feel better- lighter, more able to stand on her own and to jump into her life feet first.

  It had taken only one additional failed romance to convince her absolutely that she would never put her kids through unnecessary pain and loss. Zach and Izzy and she, too, were happy as they were. Why mess with success? Why hand your contentment over to somebody else for safekeeping?

  Nina rubbed her face. She was bone-tired. Really beat. But she was cognizant enough to know that the odds against a forty-four-year-old, never-married executive becoming a devoted family man—to a ready made family, no less—were pretty steep. David was merely trying it on for size, the way he'd try on a new suit by the latest designer.

  Well, if he wanted to experiment, fine and dandy. But by damn he could do it with someone else's kids, someone else's life.

  Reaching for her pillow, she punched it several times then stuffed it once more behind her head and sighed as she leaned back. Their location may have changed, but she was still in charge. Come tomorrow, she'd show David Hanson who was the boss.

  Chapter Eight

  I'm dying.

  Nina strained her neck to raise her aching head and peer at the clock. It read 7:15 a.m. Tuesday, if she recalled correctly.

  “Nnnnnghhhhhmmmmph.” Letting her head fall back against the pillow, she scanned her body for any part that didn't hurt.

  Right pinkie, she thought. Concentrate on your right pinkie. The old focusing trick usually worked to help her overcome any physical discomfort enough to get moving, but not today. Today the mere thought of being upright made her want to weep.

  She had the flu, no doubt about it. Her head was pounding, she felt cold and hot at the same time, she was queasy; even her eyeballs and her teeth ached.

  She seriously considered lying in bed indefinitely, but her children's voices roused her attention. She heard Zach laughing, and Izzy saying, “More! More!”

  They sounded too far away to be in one of the bedrooms. When Nina imagined them preparing their own breakfasts in David's pristine kitchen, she heaved herself out of bed and pictured every cell in her body holding a protest sign.

  Moving with care, she pulled a robe on over her T-shirt and pajama bottoms then tucked her feet into clogs. She clumped heavily to the bathroom, where she brushed her teeth and scraped her curls into an exploding ponytail. Apologizing to her reflection, she promised herself an open account at Victoria's Secret in her next life.

  She hauled herself to the kitchen, expecting to see her children alone, pouring more cereal than any two people could consume in one sitting. Instead, she found both her kids teaching David how to make a tablespoon stick to his nose.

  “Rub harder,” Zach instructed. “You've gotta make the spoon feel hot.”

  “Okay, now!” Izzy crowed. “See if it'll stick now!”

  Obedient to her children's commands, David let the bowl of a shiny tablespoon rest on his nose, where it held a few moments before it dropped. Laughter filled the kitchen.

  “I think that's the first time I ever had a spoon on my nose.” David grinned.

  “Have you ever put straws up it?” Izzy asked quite seriously.

  “Why would I do that?”

  “You do it to look like a walrus.” She shrugged.

  “Little kids like it.”

  “Hmm. I don't think I have any straws.”

  “Lucky you.” When Nina spoke, the words emerged like a strange croak. The threesome in the kitchen turned to look at her.

  “Did we wake you up?” David asked, a
n apologetic expression on his perfectly shaved, perfectly handsome face.

  Nina tugged on the belt of her robe, acutely aware that she was the only person present who was not dressed and ready for the day. Not a good way to impress the boss.

  Though a mighty fine reason why you shouldn't live with him in the first place.

  “I'm usually up every morning by six,” Nina said. “I don't know why my alarm didn't go off.”

  “David said we should let you rest, so me and Zach sneaked in and turned it off!” Izzy beamed, proud of herself and her brother.

  David held up his hands when Nina glanced at him. “The alarm wasn't my idea. Although I think it was a good one. You looked a little done in yesterday.”

  Well, that was good to know.

  “Are you all right this morning?” he asked, his doubtful expression telegraphing clearly the fact that she didn't look any better today.

  “I may be coming down with something,” Nina admitted reluctantly. “But I'll be fine in a couple of hours. I'll take some zinc.” Self-consciously she glanced at her outfit. “I would have dressed, but I wanted to get the kids' breakfast.”

  On her last word, the toaster popped up.

  “Got that covered.” David grabbed two plates.

  “Toaster waffles.” He raised a brow. “Is that okay?” In response, she sneezed. Messily.

  “Oooh, gross, Mommy!” Izzy covered her eyes. Quickly, Nina grabbed a napkin from a Lucite holder on the counter.

  “Cool.” Zach grinned. “We studied mucus in science class. When you have a cold, the human body can produce a cup of mucus.” He looked at David. “How much do you think she sneezed out?”

  With a hand at the back of Zach's head, David guided the young scientist to a stool at the breakfast bar. “I think we have more to look forward to.”

  Zach was in high spirits since his visit with the pulmonary specialist. The doctor took a variety of approaches to asthma, and he was confident that Zach would be able to manage his condition without increased steroids. He'd even told the boy that one of his asthma patients was now a pro baseball player. Zach had excitedly told David the news last night, and David had promised Zach a trip to Wrigley Field, an offer that catapulted him to hero status.

  Nina blew her nose and eyed her children's new best friend over the Kleenex.

  Meeting her eyes, David asked, “Are you hungry?”

  She surveyed the granite counter, set with butter and syrup for the waffles, orange juice and milk. Her sore throat protested at the thought of a single swallow. “Are you eating?” she said, wishing for a throat lozenge.

  “I'm an oatmeal man in the morning.” He shook his head woefully. “Ever since I turned forty, health has taken precedence over taste. You're lucky.” He looked at her with a smile, as if her present appearance were perfectly normal and perfectly attractive. “You don't have to worry about age yet.”

  “You're forty years old?” Izzy exclaimed, blatantly disturbed by the news. “That's almost as old as our principal.”

  “No it's not!” Zach piped up, rolling his eyes at his sister. “Mr. Kenner's hair is white already. He's probably fifty.”

  “Well, I hate to break it to you both,” David confessed, “but I'm forty-four.”

  Izzy looked at David as if she were profoundly depressed. “Then you'll probably never get married. Bubby says if a man isn't married by the time he's thirty-five he's either a miser or a schmuck.”

  “Isabella!” Nina gave her daughter the “angry eye ball,” as her children liked to call her best parental glare. The next time she saw her grandmother, Bubby was going to get a dose of the angry eyeball, too.

  “Don't worry, David, plenty of old guys get married.” Zach spoke with the confidence of a true authority on the subject. “They even have babies. It's old women who don't get married.”

  “Zach!” For the first time in memory, Nina wanted to stuff a sock in her son's mouth. She sneezed again, blew her nose and apologized to David. “Obviously my children have been watching too much MTV. They're having trouble recognizing that anyone over twenty-five is still breathing, much less capable of having a social life.”

  Zach looked sheepish. “Sorry, Mom.” He lowered his head to his orange juice. “I didn't mean you, exactly.”

  Izzy spoke while painstakingly pouring syrup into each indentation of her waffle. “You're not old, Mom. You're just stressed because you're single. But you could still get married.” When her waffle was filled to capacity, she looked up with a smile meant to be encouraging. “You might even still be able to have babies. But you'll probably need fertilizer treatments, and you could wind up with twins like Rachel Abrams's mom, and then you'll think you ought to have your head examined.”

  “Oh, my God,” Nina said, blushing furiously.

  David turned around, rested both palms on the granite countertop, hung his head and laughed so hard his shoulders shook.

  Izzy grumbled, “What's so funny?” Zach shrugged, and they both started eating, avoiding their mother's gaze.

  “Go ahead and enjoy yourself, Methuselah.” Nina croaked to David above his laughter. “You won't think it's so funny if Viagra is taken off the market.”

  He sobered immediately. “Have you heard Viagra's being taken off the market? Are there rumors on the Internet?” When Nina laughed, he grinned. “I'll make a deal with you, Nina. I'll keep my ear to the ground for a good deal on fertilizer, and you inform me of any Viagra sales that come to your attention.”

  Nina nodded. “Deal. I suppose those of us who have a foot in the grave ought to stick together.”

  His grin eased to a relaxed smile. “My thoughts exactly. So, how about it, Mrs. Dorian Gray? Want to gum some oatmeal with me?”

  Nina looked at her children, who listened avidly to the conversation while they ate. “I want to take a shower,” she said, “and a couple of aspirin before I eat anything. And I need to drive the kids to school.”

  “Got that covered, too,” David said. “I'll drive them.”

  “What?” A caring, responsible man who was not her husband, father or brother was offering to take her children to school…after making them breakfast so she could sleep in? The data entered Nina's brain, but wouldn't immediately compute. “No, I couldn't possibly… I mean, thank you, but-”

  “Please, Mom?” Zach leaned so far over his plate, his shirt touched his waffle. “David's car is sweet! No one's ever come to school in a Mustang!”

  “Mr. Hanson's car is not the issue. Get your shirt out of the syrup.” She turned to David. “You have to go to work.”

  “I'll drop them off on my way to the office.”

  “Their school isn't on your way.”

  David sighed. “This is going to be one of those an-noying conversations that we have. Isn't it?”

  She wasn't sure how to respond to that.

  “You may as well give in now, Nina. I'm definitely driving them. You're definitely staying home. They'll get to school safe and on time. Scout's honor.”

  “I don't know-”

  “Mo-o-om!” Izzy joined Zach's plea.

  David arched a brow and Nina sniffed. “I suppose I could use the extra time to compile a list of caterers. I want to call and get price lists-”

  “Give it a rest, Miss Baxter. Literally.”

  “I'm not that sick. I'd rather get right to work. I—” Closing her eyes, she sneezed into her paper napkin. Loudly. Messily.

  “Ooooh, gross!” This time David made the comment, and Zach and Izzy laughed around mouthfuls of waffle.

  “Fine, go,” Nina said after blowing her nose again. “I'll be able to sneeze in peace.”

  Zach and Izzy immediately began arguing over who got to sit in the Mustang's front seat.

  “Have fun,” she said, grabbing several more napkins off the counter and giving her children a little wave. “Come to my room before you go, and I'll give you lunch money. Zach, make sure you take your inhaler.”

  “Maybe he should lea
ve it for you,” David cracked. “You really do sound sick. I'll check back with you.”

  “No, no,” she insisted, shuffling toward her room. “I'm fine. I'm going to take a shower. You three have fun- Ahhh-chew!”

  Nina got into the tub after she left David and the kids. She decided that a hot soak would ease her sore muscles and wake her up, but an hour later she awoke in a cold tub with muscles that ached more than ever and pounding temples that required additional pain-killers. When she emerged from the bath, even her toes hurt, so she donned her soft chenille robe and swallowed two more ibuprofen.

  While she'd been soaking, David had phoned and left a message, asking how she was. Nina had called back, but he'd been in a meeting, so she'd asked his secretary to tell him that she felt much better and thanks for everything. Then she'd crawled into bed for a few minutes…just a few…to finish the nap she'd started in the bath.

  That's where David found her several hours later, after clearing his afternoon and leaving her another message to say he intended to pick the kids up from school and take them to the zoo for a couple of hours so she could continue to rest. Just to get a rise out of her, he added that he hoped she really was resting, but that given her obstinate nature, he figured there was a fifty-fifty chance she was out tarring the roof.

  At the zoo, outgoing Izzy had waved her hand madly when a performer at the live animal show had requested parent-and-child volunteers. “We can pretend,” she'd whispered to David when they'd been chosen. Close together onstage, they had held out their arms so a trained owl could land on them. Izzy had squealed, and David had used his free arm to hold her steady. The owl had cocked its head and blinked, and the audience had cheered. The staff performer had said that David and Izzy made a great team, which had made Izzy smile so widely, David was sure the entire audience had been able to see her molars.