by Mae Nunn
Gravy.
Her stomach grumbled. Pizza again. Yuck.
“I should have taken him up on that offer of a to-go plate.”
As Ali began the long drive back into town she acknowledged feelings of regret for some of what she’d said. It was too soon to be so blunt. She hadn’t given him a chance, been too judgmental. She’d accused the popular motivational speaker of being gullible, for heaven’s sake!
“Wait a minute. There was nothing wrong with what I said,” Ali tried to convince herself. “But there was nothing right about it, either,” she gave equal time to her conscience.
Simba whined again, still watching the road behind them.
“I thought you didn’t like him.”
Eyes like Moon Pies stared from the folding wire travel crate in the rear of the SUV.
“Okay, I’ll call and apologize.” Ali kept her gaze on the road. She reached for her bag in the front passenger seat. Nothing. She glanced to her right. The space where her handbag should be sitting was empty.
Oh, nice.
Pressing the brake, she pulled to the side of the road while she counted all the valid reasons for going back. Then she examined the only argument she could come up with for waiting until Monday. The fine for driving without a license beat her pride by a mile. She whipped the Land Rover into a lefthand U-turn, wishing she was headed back to the three-story mansion to eat pork instead of crow.
“I’ll keep it short and sweet. Just offer a quick apology, grab my purse and get the blazes out of Dodge.”
She cut the headlights and swung into the wide, circular driveway. The main level was dark except for a chandelier glowing inside the foyer, above the doorway.
She’d been gone about fifteen minutes, just long enough for the sun to set. Had Benjamin already managed to clean the kitchen and lock up for the night? The man was annoyingly efficient. Clearly, he wasn’t that thorough about everything since he knew so little about his financial backers.
“Enough already,” she warned herself. With the windows down on such a pleasant evening Simba was safe and comfortable inside the Rover.
Instead of making a beeline for the front walk, Ali veered to the side of the magnificent home where the west-facing overlook beckoned. Three steps up and she stood atop the flagstone surface that had been positioned for a perfect glimpse of the horizon. The sky was dark, dark blue with only a thin line of red-orange above the earth, a shallow puddle of color left by the sun.
Security lights had sprung to life in the gardens below, casting long shadows beside the topiary and poolside cabana. In the far corner where she and Simba had walked earlier, Benjamin sat on a concrete bench beneath a decorative lamppost.
All alone.
Ali’s heart thumped, a combination of guilt and pain. And something else she didn’t want to accept. It ached for the man, surrounded by the trappings of success with nothing but memories of his personal loss for company.
“Lord, help me out here,” she whispered. “He deserves the same compassion I give my Sunday Kids. And instead of showing the love of Christ I treat him like he’s guilty of a crime.”
Benjamin stood and moved toward the house with shoulders hunched forward, and hands shoved deep into the pockets of his khaki slacks. He looked so much like his son upstairs, who lacked the ability to recognize help or accept forgiveness.
She should kick herself. When it came right down to it, all Benjamin wanted to do was serve the public and be a good role model. Not really much different from football or all that positive guru business.
Not really much different from a therapist “who donates more time than she bills,” Ali’s roommate was fond of pointing out. Josie, the nursing student Ali had taken into her home, helped in the office to cover her rent. Each month she reminded her boss that patient gratitude was not an acceptable form of payment for Ali’s mountain of student loans.
Simba woofed lightly. She was restless to be going.
“Just get it over with,” Ali reminded herself of the reason she was trespassing in the dark instead of cozy in front of her television with Josie and her snoring cat. Ali crossed to the front door and rang the bell. Several moments later the porch light blazed and the door swung open.
The good lookin’ man before her was still every inch a fearsome linebacker. Except, of course, for the purse. He stood in the foyer with both strong arms extended. A paper plate covered in foil was balanced on one hand and her bag dangled from the other.
“Nice accessorizing.” She was glad for something silly to say.
“Thank you.” He turned it this way and that, checking it out. “It’s my favorite designer knockoff.”
She pretended to squint disapproval and then snatched the strap from his hand.
“What took you so long to come back?” His lips were pressed together in a meager effort not to grin.
“I had to think it over for a few miles before I was ready to call and apologize.”
He shook his head. “No apology is necessary if you meant what you said.”
“Well, I did mean it, but I should have found a less confrontational way to express myself. Life has been a series of battles since I was about eight years old, so it’s second nature for me to be on the offensive.”
“I’m up to it. My reputation with the Cowboys was built on being the best at defensive play. I held my ground against guys as unstoppable as runaway freight trains. I ought to be able to handle anything a beautiful woman can dish out, so bring it on.”
She waved goodbye as she fanned away his challenge, then turned and headed for the Rover before the blush rushing up the column of her throat was visible beneath the home security lights. Once she was safely inside the vehicle she let the force of his words flow over her.
He called me beautiful! Benjamin Lamar thinks I’m beautiful!
As the silly old maid thought resounded in Ali’s mind, she mentally ground it beneath the heel of her boot, determined not to be distracted by empty flattery. He was a politician. What female could ever be sure this man’s compliments were real? A woman shouldn’t let her head be turned by charming words—not if she was smart.
There would be strings attached as long as he was looking for a vote. But how nice it might be to become entangled in those strings!
Chapter Ten
Ben muted the Monday evening news while he considered his daily conversation with Randy. It hadn’t gone well. Being an experienced lawyer, Randy quickly recognized Ben’s questions for what they were: a cross-examination. Things started out friendly enough, but when Ben insisted on funding a third-party review of all political action committees who’d expressed interest in supporting his Congressional bid, Randy’s back went up like a black cat’s on Friday the thirteenth.
“Did you fall on your head over the weekend, my friend? You know I’d rather kiss a rattlesnake on the lips than give somebody our hard-earned money just for their opinion,” Randy objected.
It wasn’t worth getting into an argument. There was plenty more for Randy to manage, so Ben would handle this himself. After all, it would be his name on the ballot. In that regard Ali had been one hundred percent correct. It was up to Ben to ensure every alliance he made was credible and in line with his values.
And while he did believe children were ultimately better off with the family than placed in foster care, something Ali said had haunted him all weekend.
Life has been a series of battles since I was about eight years old.
Did Ali know firsthand about living in a dangerous home? His gut told him survival might be the key to her strength.
He’d missed the presence of the unpredictable lady on Sunday. Wished she’d stopped by yesterday so they could get to know each other better.
The mantle clock chimed seven times. She was later than usual. But then Ben really didn’t know what usual meant for an attractive single woman with the demanding career and volunteer responsibilities she shouldered. She’d shown amazing courage and insight in tak
ing him to task on Saturday night. Ben suspected there was a lot he could learn from Ali if he could get her to slow down and answer more questions than she asked.
A door slammed in the driveway.
“The lady and I must be on the same wavelength,” Ben muttered through a pleased grin. He pushed up and out of his recliner, clicked off the television and tossed the remote on the end table.
“I hope you brought Yahtzee tonight but I’ll settle for another game of Scrabble,” he teased loudly as he yanked the door open.
“I told you our candidate had a sense of humor.” Randy stood on the doorstep accompanied by a tall, white-haired gentleman Ben didn’t recognize.
“Hey, buddy.” Ben reached for his friend and pulled him into a brotherly embrace. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Evidently. But I’m pretty fair at Scrabble if that offer still stands.”
“Ben Lamar, welcome to my home.” He extended his hand to the stranger, then waited for an introduction.
“Sanders Boyd.” The man’s handshake was unnecessarily firm.
Another guy who thinks crushing my fingers will impress a former NFL player.
“Ben,” Randy explained, “Sanders is the founder of the Parents First Alliance. I called to set up a meeting for later in the week, found out he was free and took a chance that you might be able to give us a few minutes tonight.”
“Sure, I can always spare some time to talk shop.”
Over their shoulders Ben watched Ali’s SUV whip into the drive. God’s timing proved He had a wry sense of humor. Ben needed to get Ali past these guys and upstairs to Ethan. If introductions were made all around, there was a good chance an altercation, if not a full-blown incident, would break out.
Her scuffed ropers clipped a determined path for the front door but Simba strayed toward the grass. Ben stepped aside and wasted no time ushering Sanders into the house, then turned to Randy.
“Why don’t you take Mr. Boyd into my study and as soon as I have a word with Dr. Stone I’ll join you.”
Randy nodded. But after one step across the threshold he balked, turned back. “Wait a minute. The Dr. Stone? The woman who rescued Ethan?”
“I made the pickup but the rescue is always a team effort,” Ali said modestly as she approached. She seemed worn out, as usual.
Ben had come to accept Ali’s harried look as part of the very unique package—boots in need of polish, collar smashed beneath her shoulder strap and silky strands of red hair pulling free of her braid. Even so, her one-of-a kind beauty rocked him back on his heels with each encounter.
Randy’s expression filled with questions. He cleared his throat and looked expectantly at Ben. There was no civilized way out. May as well get it over with.
“Doctor Alison Stone, I’d like to introduce my old friend Randy Mason.” As the two exchanged greetings Ben exaggerated a stage whisper. “Don’t get too chummy with this guy. He’ll get lawyer on you.” The joke only provided a brief chuckle, then Ben was forced to continue, especially since Boyd had rejoined them on the front step.
“Ali, this is Sanders Boyd. He and Randy just dropped by for an impromptu meeting so feel free to go on upstairs. Ethan’s expecting you and you’re in for a nice surprise.”
Ben made the last part up. He’d apologize profusely to God and Ali later.
As Boyd extended his hand Ben watched her normally pleasant expression morph into contempt. Not good.
“Mr. Sanders and I have met,” she acknowledged, refusing to accept his handshake.
Though she kept her eyes on Boyd, Ben felt himself locked in the heat of her peripheral vision. If he so much as squirmed, she’d pounce like a starving dog on a bone. And speaking of dogs, hers sidled up and took a seat. Could things possibly get more uncomfortable?
“I’m sorry?” Boyd seemed puzzled.
“It was in a courtroom two years ago.”
Yep, there was plenty of discomfort to go around.
Boyd waited for more detail. Clearly he could not recall the meeting.
“Surely you remember twelve-year-old Jason Maxwell. He’d been removed from the family home by Child Protective Services.”
Boyd nodded. “Ah, yes. And I believe the court found in favor of the parents and returned the boy to their custody.”
“Yes, that’s right. And do you know what became of Jason?”
“I presume he’s a high school student by now.”
Ali’s smile was brittle, not at all genuine.
“I guess you could say that. He’s in the Texas Department of Corrections’ secondary education program. Jason’s serving twenty-to-life for the murder of his father. I visit him regularly, that is if he’s not on suicide lockdown.”
Sanders Boyd’s spine stiffened. “And your point, young lady?”
Ali sighed and closed her eyelids, clearly exasperated with the man’s feigned innocence. When she raised her gaze it was focused on Ben.
“This is your home. Do I have your permission to go there or would you prefer I ignore the question?”
“You don’t need my permission, Ali. Say what’s on your mind.” Ben meant it. If a fight broke out, he’d just step aside and let Simba handle it.
Ali’s amber eyes flecked with gold fixed on Boyd. The crimson glow that had been creeping up her neck reached her jaw and shot through her cheeks. The passion she felt for the subject was undeniable. But Boyd showed little emotion. In fact, a self-satisfied expression fixed on his pale face like a silent challenge. Ben would have given in to the desire to laugh if he hadn’t known the Rock was about to crash down on the old man’s arrogant head.
Ali’s voice was steady when she spoke. “My point, sir, is that protecting parental rights is not the same as protecting the child.”
“The system is broken,” Boyd insisted. “We have to take a stand for the family.”
“But the consequences, Mr. Boyd, fall on the lives of the children.”
“Doctor Stone, that’s precisely why the Parents First Alliance is interested in supporting Ben’s bid for Congress.” Randy stuck his nose into the discussion and his neck into the noose. Ali was quick to tighten the knot.
“Mr. Mason, you’re either naive or uninformed.”
Randy shoved his hands in his pockets, a sign he was offended. Good.
Ali continued. “As an attorney and Benjamin’s close friend you should take time to review the court battles involving Mr. Boyd’s organization. What the PFA wants is a hammer to come down on their side of court cases to earn big dollar donations. And in return I bet he’s willing to pass some of that money on to the campaign you’re planning to manage.”
Both men blustered, insulted.
“Now, wait just a minute,” Randy insisted.
“Who do you think you’re speaking to, little lady?” Boyd demanded to know.
Ben was torn between pride for Ali and embarrassment for his involvement in the scene. Tomorrow he and Randy would go over their funding offers with a fine-toothed comb. Ben had to get some answers for himself, stop blindly accepting Randy’s judgment.
“Gentlemen, please.” Ben held his palms outward to silence any further discussion. “I’m afraid this impromptu meeting was not such a good idea after all. Dr. Stone has an appointment with Ethan and we need to speak beforehand.”
He stepped to the left and motioned for Ali to see herself into the house. She moved inside without further comment. Simba, who followed close behind, paused to defend her mistress with a dark glance at Randy and soft growl for Boyd. Then the dog did something curious: she intentionally passed close enough to brush against Ben’s pant leg.
Is she warning me or protecting me? Who knew with animals?
“I’m sorry about this,” Ben began.
“That woman is the one who needs to be saying she’s sorry,” Boyd snapped.
Ben blinked several times, glanced from Boyd to Randy and back again. “I was apologizing for not being able to meet with you. I don’t know that Doctor Stone ne
eds me or anybody else to apologize on her behalf.”
“She does seem quite capable,” Randy admitted.
Which is more than I can say for some people.
“Voilà!” Ali plunked four letters on the end of Ethan’s last turn, then spelled aloud.
“B-L-I-N-D-N-E-S-S.”
“Hey, you can’t do that!” he insisted.
“Oh, yes I can,” she corrected him. “Check the rules. I can add letters to the front or back of your words all day long.”
He studied the guidelines printed in the top of the game box. She actually had no idea if what she’d done was legal or not, but Ethan cooperated as long as she kept him engaged in the game and that’s all that mattered.
“And guess what else?” She smiled as Ethan looked up from his determined search to prove her wrong. “With my double-word bonus, I just turned your piddly score of eight into my whopping twenty-four!”
“A real mom would never take advantage of a kid like that,” he muttered.
Her scalp prickled, signaling a teachable moment.
“Pleeeeease,” Ali groaned. “First, I’m not a mom. And second, you can’t expect me to believe your mother never got the better of you when you played games together.”
“We didn’t play that many games together.” He kept his head down, perusing the list of rules.
“Then what did you two do for fun?”
“You’re trying to distract me, so you can keep me from finding out you’re cheating.”
“Let me see that.” Ali took hold of the box and pulled it from Ethan’s grasp. She tossed it to the side. “Look, you can memorize the rules after I leave. If it turns out I was wrong, then we’ll start off the next game with me fifty points in the hole.”
Ethan’s brows rose as he considered the offer. “Fair enough,” he pronounced.
“Cool. So, tell me about hanging out with your mom.”
“When I was little we spent a lot of time at the park or in our pool. And during soccer season she was always taking me to practice or watching my games.”