Under Control

by Shannon Stacey

  Wife?

  No, it couldn’t be a wife. At least she didn’t think so. The lack of a wedding ring or a telltale pale strip where one was supposed to be probably didn’t mean anything, since she wasn’t sure if firefighters usually wore wedding rings or not. But he seemed like such a good guy and she didn’t want to believe he’d flirt with her if he was married. Nor did he seem stupid enough to flirt in front of a bunch of people who must know Amber. Assuming he even was flirting. It had been subtle and she wasn’t sure now if it was just wishful thinking on her part.

  She might be his ex-wife.

  Olivia wrinkled her nose and set the paper aside. She didn’t really have room in her life for any relationship right now—which was why finding a guy still wasn’t part of her life plan—but she definitely didn’t have time for a messy relationship. And divorces were messy. They made families messy and, in her parents’ case, so hostile every aspect of life for every member of the family was tainted by their anger. There had been zero chance of Olivia going to college in Virginia because she was sick of choking on the tension between her parents. Her aunt and uncle’s divorce had been almost as bad, and her cousin had the police to her house at least six times during hers.

  Maybe it was his sister or his mother, she told herself as she changed into leggings and a sweatshirt and settled on her bed to watch television.

  At twenty after seven, her phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number on the screen and normally she let unfamiliar numbers go to voicemail, but the chance it might be Derek—and the accompanying spike in her pulse rate—made her reach for the phone.

  She answered on the third ring. “Hello?”

  “Hey, it’s Derek. Are you busy?”

  “Not at all.” The sound of his voice made her forget about the unknown Amber, and she relaxed against her pillows. “If I was busy, I wouldn’t have answered the phone.”

  “No multitasking?”

  “Don’t get me started on the evils of multitasking. Trust me, all my attention is on you.” There was a long pause, and she winced when she replayed the words in her head, and then kept going to fill the silence. “What’s up?”

  “I was looking over the list of prizes we have so far and trying to think of some more items that would appeal to the people Jess was talking about. And it seems like you work in that world, too, so I figured we could brainstorm together?”

  “I love brainstorming,” she said, and then wondered if it sounded weird. But it was true. Pen, paper and people just throwing ideas down was a great way to stimulate the more creative parts of the mind. “Were you thinking now, or did you want to come up with a time that’s good for both of us?”

  “I was actually thinking this kind of thing would be a lot easier to discuss in person. Are you open for dinner at all?”

  Olivia’s pulse quickened, but she forced herself to ignore any non-professional reaction she might have to his invitation. Of course it was easier to brainstorm in person. She’d eaten countless meals with people for exactly that reason.

  It was silly to get excited just because the question had been asked in a deep voice that belonged to an undeniably sexy man.

  “Let me look.” She picked up her planner—which usually sat on the bed next to her until it was time to sleep—and scanned quickly through the days. “We’re far enough apart so we wouldn’t want to eat too late, but I have meetings right up to the end of the work day. Saturday I’m speaking at a local business conference, so Sunday’s my only totally open day.”

  “Sunday works, unless you left it open on purpose. It sounds like you don’t have much free time, so I don’t want to butt in on it.”

  She didn’t have much free time, but Sunday was only open because other people liked having the time off. “No, it’s fine. Sunday’s great. You can just text me where and when sometime between now and then. I’m not picky.”

  “Sounds great. I’m looking forward to it.”

  So was she, she thought as they ended the call. Even though she could tell herself it was a work-related meeting, she was going to be alone with Derek for longer than the time it took an elevator to go down—even with an unexpected stop—and that was the part her nerves were focusing in on.

  Not a date, she told herself. She wasn’t even looking to date. She was already busy all the time, she had a book to finish, and she’d learned young that success came from making a plan and sticking to it.

  She feared Derek Gilman was going to be one hell of a distraction. But as long as he was a diversion and not a derailing, she’d be okay. Probably.

  * * *

  On Sunday evening, Derek watched the door, his stomach in knots for stupid reasons he couldn’t shake. The restaurant was one of his favorites—a family-owned place that served up food that wasn’t fancy, but was damn good—but it probably wasn’t the kind of place where a woman like Olivia McGovern usually ate.

  He hadn’t even been sure they had wine until he got there and, now that he’d looked at the list, he had no idea if the wines were any good or not. Judging by the price, they probably weren’t fancy. And no, he didn’t know if Olivia drank wine, but he assumed she did. Women like her seemed to.

  Women like her. He tried to kick that thought out of his head. Sure, she had expensive clothes and shoes. And her hair and makeup and nails were flawless. And maybe that made him feel a little like he was from the wrong side of the tracks. But that was on him, not her. She seemed really genuine, and she was smart and funny and driven and...

  Holy shit. She was goddamned beautiful.

  Derek didn’t wait until she got to the table. He stood as soon as she appeared in the door, and the way her face lit up when she saw him tightened the knots in his stomach until he felt as if his insides were vibrating with the tension.

  He felt himself returning her smile as she crossed the dining room and could only hope it was a friendly-but-professional smile and not a goofy grin.

  She wasn’t wearing a suit tonight. Not that he minded seeing her long legs showcased by the skirts and the high heels, but her legs looked amazing in slim navy pants, too. Her white T-shirt would have been casual, except it was a little shimmery and she was wearing jewelry that dressed it up. And in place of the high heels were strappy sandals that showed off her feet and bright purple toenails.

  For some reason, that amused him. He would have guessed she’d choose a classic color or muted pastel for her toes, and he liked that unexpected pop of color.

  “Thank you,” she said as she settled in the chair he pulled out for her. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

  Derek glanced at the ornate clock hanging over the door as he sat down. “I hadn’t even noticed, since it was literally two minutes.”

  “On time is late,” she said, and he was pretty sure she was serious. “Just ask my parents.”

  He wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but then her mouth curved into a smile and he realized she was kidding. Or maybe she wasn’t kidding about her parents or punctuality, but she had a sense of humor about it.

  “About the only thing I’m not late to is work,” he said. “It drove my ex-wife crazy.”

  While her smile froze for a few seconds before she turned to rummage in the leather bag she’d hung on the back of the chair, Derek mentally face-palmed himself. He hadn’t even made it a minute before mentioning the ex-wife. Women loved that shit.

  Not that they were on a date, but still. It was a bad habit.

  “How long have you been divorced?” She set the leather notebook she’d had in the elevator on the table in front of her, but didn’t open it yet.

  “It’s been final almost a year.”

  “Do you have children?”

  It was a natural question to ask a guy who’d just told you he was divorced, but she looked stiff and awkward as she asked it, not making eye contact. “Two. Julia’s ten and Isaac is eight.”<
br />
  Her smile was definitely forced. “One of each. That’s nice.”

  Tamping down on the impulse to pull up photos of the kids on his phone, he decided to turn the conversation back to her. “How about you? A significant other in your life?”

  “Nope. Not part of the life plan yet.”

  He laughed. “I can actually see you not only having a life plan, but actually writing it down.”

  Olivia put her hand on her notebook in what looked to him like a defensive gesture. “Of course I do. If you don’t write it down, it’s a thought, not a plan.”

  She wasn’t joking. But before he could respond, the server showed up to take their beverage order. After glancing at the wine list, Olivia asked for a lemonade and he had to fight the urge to apologize to her for his choice of restaurants. Maybe the wine choices didn’t impress, but the food would.

  He hoped. Maybe she was used to places that served those tiny portions of things nobody could pronounce with a fancy sauce smeared around the plate like a kid’s finger painting. This wasn’t that kind of place.

  After a minute of reading the menu, instead of wrinkling her nose in disdain, she looked across the table at him with big eyes. “It’s like all of my favorite comfort foods in one list and everything sounds amazing. How am I supposed to choose?”

  “I wish I could help you narrow it down, but everything is amazing.”

  “The drink choice was easy,” she said, looking back at her menu. “I have to call my mother later and I always make myself a calling-Mom cocktail, which I don’t want to put on top of wine. But I might need a few minutes with this menu.”

  He chuckled, relief flooding through him. He didn’t drink wine, so he wasn’t sure why the fact she wasn’t a wine snob after all should be a big deal, but he was still glad she wasn’t. “Take your time. There’s no hurry.”

  His favorite was the chicken parmesan, but he liked to save slurping up red sauce-coated pasta for at least the second or third date.

  Dinner, he corrected himself. This wasn’t a date. The second or third dinner.

  When the server returned, he ordered the meatloaf dinner and Olivia, after making him and the server laugh at her indecision, went with the herbed stuffed chicken.

  “A favorite of mine,” he said when they were alone again. “You won’t be disappointed.”

  “I bet everything on that menu is your favorite.”

  “I wouldn’t bet against you.” After taking a sip of his coffee, he leaned back in his chair. “So tell me, how did you get involved with Village Hearts?”

  “I’ve wanted to be involved with a charity for some time, as they’re a great way to make professional connections while giving back to the community, but it’s a tight circle. I’ve had Kelsey, my assistant, keeping an eye out and when she heard about this one, it seemed like the right opportunity. How about you? I mean, I know firefighters are very supportive of charities, but how did you come to be with this one? Do you get assigned to them?”

  “My son was born with a ventricular septal defect.”

  She’d been lifting the lemonade glass to her mouth, but now she paused and set it down without taking a sip. “I’m sorry.”

  He smiled. “Thanks, but he’s fine now. When he was born, though...it was rough. Amber and I were pretty much consumed by Isaac and being at the hospital and we didn’t have a lot of energy left to give Julia. Thanks to our families and Village Hearts, she got to keep being a happy two-year-old while we went through hell.”

  Maybe it was a trick of the dim lighting, but it looked as if Olivia’s eyes were glistening. “You must think I’m awful, talking about professional networking when it’s obvious Village Hearts is deeply meaningful to you.”

  “I don’t think you’re awful at all,” he said quickly because it was true, but also because he didn’t want her to cry. “And I don’t care why people support Village Hearts, just that they do. I asked Jess to be a part of the board, actually. It wasn’t because she had any personal connection to the charity, but because she’s freaking amazing with money. Growing and maximizing funds is wicked important when you’re as small as we are. And if you’re an expert in planning and working efficiently and whatnot, trust me. I want you.”

  I want you.

  The words hung between them for a long moment, and he thought maybe she blushed, but then she pulled her leather notebook close and opened it. It looked as if she’d already clipped some pages together because it fell open to a fresh page and she pulled the pen out of the leather loop.

  He wasn’t sure if she’d opened it because it would be easier to get started before their meals came or if it was a pointed message to remind him this was something of a business meeting, but it threw him off. Either way, it wasn’t the time to find out if she’d like to get together outside of their mutual involvement with Village Hearts. And if he was smart, he’d wait until they were done here, since he didn’t want any awkwardness if he’d been misreading their chemistry to spoil their meals.

  They got a lot done before the food showed up. She was a smart woman and together they brainstormed some great prizes they’d like to solicit. Derek would pass the list on to Ella, since she was really good at schmoozing people, and because Jess and Olivia worked in those business circles. Using connections could come in handy, but they tried not to put their volunteers in potentially awkward positions professionally.

  Olivia slid her notebook back into her bag before reaching for her napkin, which Derek took as a sign they could ease off the charity talk and maybe get a little more personal. There was a lot he wanted to know about her—namely everything—but he kept quiet as she ate the first bites of her dinner.

  “I am definitely not disappointed,” she said and, even in the dim lighting, he could see the humor and warmth in her eyes.

  “So I’ve been wondering something. Why Boston? A woman as smart as you could have gone anywhere in the country if you didn’t want to stay in Virginia, so why were we lucky enough to get you?”

  The hint of pink on her cheeks told him she wasn’t immune to the sincere flattery. “Staying in Virginia wasn’t an option. I have a very...toxic family, I’m sorry to say. I mean, I love my parents and they love me, but once they stopped loving each other and divorced, things took a turn for the unpleasant.”

  That probably went a long way toward explaining why hearing him mention his ex-wife had made her smile freeze up, and why finding out he and Amber had children had made her look uncomfortable. A lot of people their age had marriages in their rearview mirror, so it shouldn’t have been that much of a surprise. But if her parents’ divorce had ruined her family, she might think he had a lot of toxic baggage of his own. Quite the opposite, but he didn’t want to get into that now.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. My divorce was amicable and still hard for the kids at first, so I can’t imagine what that’s like. So when it was time to strike off on your own, you obviously chose Boston for our sports teams, right?”

  She laughed, as he’d intended. “It’s an awesome city with a lot of history, and they had the fields of study I wanted at a school I was accepted to—business and psychology, which is probably an odd mix. And a friend from school got accepted to the same school, so we got to start fresh on a new adventure without being alone.”

  “It’s no fun being alone so that worked out well.”

  “Yeah. Unfortunately, she really hated it here and dropped out halfway through the first semester. She went home and got her degree while living at home.”

  “I’m glad you stayed.”

  It was probably the most overtly flirtatious thing he’d said yet and he could tell by the way her expression softened that she didn’t miss it. “I am, too.”

  He asked her how she’d started her business, and she talked about freelancing and YouTube and such. And she’d written a book, which blew his mind, and traveled s
ometimes to talk at conferences. A lot of the computer terminology went over his head, but she was obviously intelligent, passionate and driven. He liked that about her.

  Once she’d declined dessert and he’d paid the bill—over her objections and he didn’t give a rat’s ass if it was a business expense—there was no reason to stay, but he would happily have sat across the table from her all night.

  “My Lyft will be here in a few minutes,” she said, which answered the question of what she’d been doing on her phone while he signed the credit card slip.

  “Did anybody tell you about the fundraiser next Saturday?” he asked as they walked toward the door.

  “Brynn shared a graphic about a fundraiser at a bar. Is that the one you mean?”

  “Yeah. It’s more than just a bar, though. Kincaid’s Pub is owned by Tommy Kincaid, who retired from Engine 59. His son, Scotty, helped get us out of the elevator. So it’s almost more like a family hangout than a bar to us.” Even as he said it, he realized that they might love Kincaid’s, but he had a hard time picturing Olivia there. Definitely not her kind of place. “All the net proceeds they make Saturday from five o’clock until close will go to Village Hearts.”

  “That’s very generous of him.”

  “Tommy’s a good guy. I know you’ve got a busy schedule, but I’d love it if you could stop by.” Her kind of place or not, he wanted to see her again.

  “I usually block out Saturdays to write, but I can probably sneak out for a while to support the cause.”

  He held the door open for her, and then let it go when some idiot stumbled on the sidewalk. Without thinking, he hooked his arm around Olivia’s waist and pulled her closer to him and out of the guy’s path as the door swung closed behind him.

  “Thank you,” she said in a soft voice. A little drizzle was falling, and the moisture sparkled on her upturned face.

  “Not to downplay the fundraising aspect,” he said, “but I should probably clarify that when I said I’d love it if you stop by, I was speaking on behalf of myself, not Village Hearts.”