“You sure you’re good with picking Tommy up from school?” he asked her.
“Got it covered.”
A quiet settled over the house once they left. Dawn filled the dishwasher and swiped the counters, but left the heavy stuff for the cleaning crew scheduled to show later that morning. Those simple tasks done, she wandered back to the gatehouse and tried to shrug off a suddenly deflated feeling.
So what if Tommy had grabbed his backpack and barreled out the door without a backward glance? And why should the fact that Brian had assumed his Big Bad Businessman persona bother her?
If she was home in Boston, she’d have suited up for work this morning, too. Her company adhered to a fairly laid-back dress code, but Dawn could do the corporate diva look when necessary, with the requisite pencil-slim black skirt and appropriate blouse or jacket. Most of the time she was in slacks and loose, colorful tops.
Which was pretty much all she had with her at present. Frowning, she surveyed the items hanging in the guest bedroom’s closet. If she stayed in DC much longer, she would definitely have to zip up to Boston and replenish the closet’s contents. Then again, she could be heading home for good very soon. Her frown morphing into a scowl, she dug her iPhone out of her hip pocket and hit the speed-dial number for Callie.
“Where are you?”
“Still at Kate’s. Travis leaves this morning for Florida, so she talked me into staying another few days.”
“Good. I’ll pick you up in an hour and we’ll hit the mall.”
“Is this a ‘my shoes are sooo last year’ excursion?” Callie asked cautiously. “Or ‘I need some serious shopping therapy’?”
“A combination of both. Ask Kate if she’s free for lunch. We’ll hook up with her somewhere. I have to be back by three, though. It’s Tommy’s first day at school. I’m picking him up.”
“I hope he has a teacher with a megasize store of patience,” Callie said, laughing.
“I hope so, too!”
Dawn hung up with a resurgence of her usual ebullient spirits. Tommy had school and Brian had billion-dollar deals to wrangle, but she had friends who’d shared almost every joyous and not-so-joyous moment of her life. She figured she came out the winner by every count.
* * *
Brian would have agreed with her. After the sweet, poignant fun of getting his son settled at a shiny new kid-size desk, the rest of his day had pretty much gone to hell.
Given his tight schedule, his executive assistant had ordered the limo for his ten o’clock meeting at the FCC. Dominic wove through the usual downtown DC traffic and delivered his boss right on time. The chief of the FCC’s Office of Engineering and Technology had been sitting on EAS’s application for access to a new ultrahigh frequency satellite band for weeks now. Determined to pry the application loose, Brian conferred with him and several other officials for two frustrating hours before finally convincing them EAS’s requirements fell within their frequency allocation and spectrum usage projections.
He left the FCC with barely enough time to make his working lunch with Northrop Grumman’s VP of Engineering Technologies at the corporation’s headquarters in Falls Church, Virginia. Dominic negotiated the traffic skillfully enough to get him to lunch, but hit a major snarl on the way back to EAS headquarters. As a consequence, Brian arrived ten minutes late for his two o’clock appointment with Ms. Margaret Davidson.
The slim, fifty-ish former teacher looked elegantly professional in a calf-length navy blue skirt, a white blouse and a paisley scarf draped over one shoulder of her red blazer. She rose when he appeared at the door of the visitors’ lounge and accepted his apologies with a gracious nod.
“Mrs. Jones has kept me well supplied with conversation and jasmine tea.”
Brian shot his executive assistant a grateful smile. “Thanks, LauraBeth. Let’s go to my office, Ms. Davidson, and get to know each other.”
The ever-efficient LauraBeth Jones had done more than just compile a list of candidates. At Brian’s request, she’d hired Joe Russo’s security firm to conduct in-depth background checks. Joe’s bloodhounds had verified each candidate’s employment and educational history, run a state and local criminal record check, screened sex offender registries, reviewed driving records and requested credit reports.
“I understand you graduated from Bryn Mawr,” Brian said when he and Ms. Davidson were comfortably settled in hunter-green leather armchairs positioned to provide a panoramic view of Bethesda’s ever-growing skyline.
“Yes, I did. I was actually in the same class as Drew Gilpin Faust.”
At his blank look, she gave a small smile.
“The current—and first—female president of Harvard.”
He didn’t know much about Bryn Mawr aside from the fact that it was one of the Seven Sisters, the prestigious female counterparts to the formerly all-male Ivy League colleges. Ms. Davidson’s condescending little smile rubbed him the wrong way, however.
“You also spent some years in academia yourself,” he commented, his tone a shade cooler.
“Almost a decade. Unfortunately, it took me that long to admit the dismal failure of our secondary education system. Since then I’ve worked only with young children. I prefer to discipline their minds and shape their study habits before our public school system warps both.”
Brian couldn’t help contrasting her grim assessment with Tommy’s eagerness to dive headfirst into that same system.
“In that regard,” she continued, adjusting the drape of her cashmere scarf, “I’m fully qualified to homeschool your son. Not only is it a safer environment given today’s drug and violence infected society, but studies show that home-educated students typically score fifteen to thirty percentile points above public school students on standardized academic achievement tests.”
“I appreciate the benefits of homeschooling, but I believe acquiring social skills are as important as acing achievement tests.”
“I don’t disagree. That’s why I encourage participation in extracurricular activities like a youth orchestra or sports team. Within carefully selected parameters, of course.”
Parameters, Brian guessed, that would exclude the ethnically diverse environment he and Caroline had wanted their children to experience. Rising, he offered Ms. Davidson his hand.
“I appreciate you agreeing to fly up to Washington on such short notice. As I’m sure you’ll appreciate that I have several other candidates to interview. I’ll let you know my decision by the end of the week.”
Surprised, she got to her feet. “Don’t you want me to meet Thomas? Give you my assessment of how well we’d interact before you decide?”
“I don’t think that’s necessary. I’ll have Mrs. Jones call down for a car to take you back to your hotel.”
With the tact that made her worth her weight in gold, LauraBeth accompanied Ms. Davidson to the elevator and made sure she was on her way down to street level before she retrieved the next applicant from the elegant, wood-paneled visitors’ lounge.
Patricia Gallagher was younger, friendlier and every bit as qualified. She was also an easy conversationalist, with an up-to-date grasp of current world affairs. Brian was impressed until she raised the issue of medical insurance.
“I have basic health coverage,” she assured him, “but I would expect you to provide supplemental coverage for co-pays and prescription costs.”
“Yes, of course.”
It was a reasonable request. Brian had provided both basic and supplemental insurance for Lottie Wells and would continue to do so until she transitioned to Medicare in a few years. The fact that medical coverage seemed of particular concern to Ms. Gallagher raised a red flag, though.
“Tommy’s a very active child,” he told her, taking care not to cross the fine line between what an employer could and couldn’t ask a prospective emplo
yee. “You’ll need a lot of energy to keep up with him.”
“That won’t be a problem. I’m pretty active myself. But...well... I hope you’re not one of those parents who doesn’t believe in vaccinations. Your son’s had all his shots, hasn’t he?”
“I wouldn’t have bought him home from the kennel otherwise,” Brian assured her solemnly.
She laughed, then volunteered the reason behind her concern. “I’m healthy as a horse most of the time, but I do seem to be susceptible to viral infections. That’s why I had to terminate my previous position,” she explained with genuine regret. “The kids were great. I really loved them, but they could never remember to wash their hands or cover their mouths when they coughed. They were always catching colds or sore throats and bringing them home.”
Brian was tempted to assure her that Tommy remembered to cover his mouth. Most of the time. But he had serious reservations about exposing his son to someone apparently susceptible to viral infections. He brought the session to a smooth finish a few moments later with the same promise to get back to her by the end of the week.
“You got through those interviews quickly,” LauraBeth commented when the elevator doors swished shut.
The calm, petite Virginian had been with EAS for almost ten years. Long enough for Brian to appreciate the titanium core under LauraBeth’s layer of Southern charm. She and her husband, a career civil servant, had raised four sons. When the last left for college, she’d decided to go back to work. The first place she’d applied was EAS, and Caroline had hired her on the spot. The two women had quickly developed a rapport that went beyond work.
Caroline’s subsequent illness had devastated LauraBeth, but this small, slender woman with a heart ten times her size had held the front office together during those last, horrific months. Brian valued her friendship as much as he relied on her brisk efficiency.
“You read their files and have chatted with both candidates so far,” he said. “What did you think?”
LauraBeth didn’t hesitate. “Davidson is too full of herself. I was impressed with Gallagher, but her reason for leaving her last job seemed a little vague.”
“The kids caught colds.”
“All kids catch colds.”
“That was pretty much my reaction, too.”
“Interesting. Do you want to squeeze in another interview? Our third candidate just called to let me know he arrived early and is checked in at the hotel. I can see if he wants to meet with you this afternoon instead of in the morning.”
“Let’s leave it as scheduled. I’ll take care of some of that paperwork you stacked on my desk and make a few calls. Then I want to head home and get the scoop on Tommy’s first day.”
Laughter filled LauraBeth’s chocolate-brown eyes. “Dawn called while you were in with Ms. Gallagher to let me know both teacher and pupil survived. She gave me the highlights. I’d share them with you but I don’t want to steal Tommy’s thunder.” She paused a moment. “I like Dawn. Not many women would step in the way she did when Lottie had that accident, and in a foreign country yet.”
“You think anyplace outside Virginia is a foreign country.”
“Well, it is. But don’t change the subject. Tommy likes Dawn, too. Quite a bit, from what I gather.”
“I know.”
“If you’re going to break the bond,” LauraBeth advised gently, “you need to do it soon.”
“I know,” he said again. “I’m working on it.”
* * *
He drove home through a slowly deepening dusk. A favorite jazz playlist thrummed through the speakers, but Brian barely registered Thelonious Monk’s percussive attacks and abrupt, dramatic silences. His thoughts kept circling from the interviews he’d just conducted to LauraBeth’s warning about the two people waiting for him at home.
Or not waiting.
The security lights were spilling golden puddles on the front lawn as he pulled into the drive, but the house showed only dark windows. He entered the kitchen through the garage, surprised by its dim emptiness, and checked the kitchen counter for a note indicating where Dawn and Tommy might have gone. Frowning, he was about to search the rest of the house when he noticed that the door to the patio stood ajar, with only the screen door keeping out the insects that now buzzed through the crisp autumn night.
Brian’s breath razored through his lungs, but before the fear every parent lived with could break out of its cage, a squeal of pure joy pierced the silence, followed by a shout of enthusiastic praise.
“Good one, kiddo!”
“I know! Your turn.”
Shaky with relief, Brian dropped his briefcase and suit coat on the counter and moved to the windows overlooking the brick-walled backyard. It, too, was illuminated by strategically placed lanterns and spots. The artificial light caught Dawn in fluid motion as she tipped sideways, planted both palms on the grass and executed a perfect cartwheel.
Correction. An almost-perfect cartwheel. Her back remained arrow straight and her legs and arms formed an admirable X, but she blew the landing. She went down butt-first and lay there, laughing, while Tommy hooted and danced from foot to foot.
“I win, I win, I win.”
“Yeah, you do. But I want a rematch.”
“’Kay.”
“Not now. Your father should be home soon. We’d better get cleaned up and start thinking about dinner.”
“’Kay.”
Not until they’d turned toward the house did they notice the figure silhouetted against the kitchen windows.
“Dad’s already home!”
With another squeal of joy, Tommy raced across the yard and barreled through the screen door. Brian went down on one knee for a quick bear hug and a spate of breathless questions from his excited son.
“Didja see me, Dad? Didja? Dawn taught me how to do cartwheels ’n now I do ’em better than her.”
“I saw her do one. Or try to.”
“C’mon outside! I’ll show you a good one.”
When he darted back through the door, Brian followed and strolled over to join Dawn.
“This is a surprise. I came home expecting a detailed report on first grade and instead I get a gymnastics exhibition.”
“Don’t worry,” she drawled. “You’ll get both.”
“Watch me, Dad. Watch me!”
“I’m watching.”
“Tommy was totally hyped when I picked him up at school,” Dawn commented during the exuberant demonstration. “I now know the names of almost every kid in his class, the stories their teacher read to them, what they had for lunch and which of them can write their names fastest. His little friend Cindy took those honors, incidentally.”
“Good to know.”
“The only way I could turn off the spigot was to lure him out here for some fresh air and exercise.”
“Smart thinking.”
“Dad!”
“I see you, buddy.”
Absorbed in his son’s acrobatics, Brian still managed to remain acutely aware of the woman beside him. Her face was flushed from her exertions and her tumbled hair held an earthy scent of grass and sweat. Not as delicate as lemons and lotus blossoms, he discovered when he sneaked another whiff, but a whole lot more arousing.
Suddenly impatient, he couldn’t wait to hear his son’s report, then get him fed, bathed and in bed.
Chapter Six
Employing time-tested management principles, Brian combined tasks to accomplish them quickly and efficiently. He listened with genuine interest to Tommy’s detailed saga of his first day while he chopped lettuce. Still listening, he sprinkled parmesan on slices of buttered Italian bread and popped them in the oven while Dawn nuked frozen lasagna.
Tommy’s school saga continued through dinner. He took a brief hiatus for a video battle
and resumed during bath time. Thankfully, his day’s activities and the spirited cartwheel session had depleted even his seemingly inexhaustible store of energy. He voiced an obligatory round of protests and petulant pleas to stay up longer, but zonked out almost before his head hit the pillow.
When Brian went back downstairs, he discovered that Dawn had achieved the same comatose state. She was slouched on the den sofa, feet up, head lolling against the gray suede cushions with the video controls about to slip through her fingers. Strike two, he thought ruefully. Looked as if he’d have to put his “whatever happens” hopes on ice for the second night in a row.
When he eased the controls out of her limp grasp, his conscience said he should nudge her awake and suggest they call it a night. The rest of him nixed the notion. Slowly, cautiously, he lowered himself onto the cushions. They shifted under his weight, tipping her toward him.
He snaked his arm across the sofa back while her head found a comfortable nest between his neck and shoulder. This was nice, he thought as he settled her closer. Cozy and comfortable.
Yeah, sure! Almost as cozy and comfortable as USMC boot camp.
Determined to keep a lid on his physical response to this woman, he tried to ignore the warm breath tickling his neck and the soft, full breast mashed against his upper arm. He edged away a few inches in an effort to put some space between himself and her pliant body, but only succeeded in eliciting a breathy sigh as she snuggled closer.
Jaw locked, Brian tried to kill the hunger pulsing through him with cold, hard logic. No way he could nudge Dawn down onto the cushions and bring her back to consciousness inch by delicious inch. Tommy might wake up, think of just one more thing he had to tell his dad and wander downstairs at precisely the wrong moment.
The stern lecture almost did the trick. Would have, if Dawn hadn’t mumbled something unintelligible and poked her nose into his neck like a burrowing groundhog. When some loose strands of hair trapped between her chin and his shoulder constricted her nuzzling, the mumble segued into an irritated grunt.
Gently, Brian freed the trapped strands. Soft and whispery, they played through his fingers, still giving off a faint whiff of grass and sweat. The earthy tang triggered something deep and primitive in him. Cursing under his breath, he shifted again in a vain attempt to ease the sudden tightening in his belly.
Third Time's the Bride! Page 7