The last thing he wanted to do was scare her off, especially since, at least for now, Stevi seemed to really like the woman.
Sighing, Steve forced himself to get back to writing the report. After all, it wasn’t just going to write itself.
* * *
He didn’t remember when he finally went to bed. All he knew was that it was late. When he realized that his eyes had shut not once but three separate times, he knew he had to stop. There was still one equation he had to finish, but that could be done in the morning, along with reviewing the report in its entirety. His brain should be clear and fully functioning again by then.
At least he hoped so.
He didn’t bother changing for bed, just fell on top of the covers—and asleep—still dressed.
* * *
Steve wasn’t sure what woke him up. It certainly wasn’t his alarm clock, because he hadn’t bothered to set it.
And it wasn’t Stevi. It had been a long time since his daughter had come tearing into his bedroom, bouncing on his bed while begging him to get up so they could do something really “fun.”
It didn’t hit him until he’d gotten up and was sitting on the side of his bed, trying to clear the fog out of his brain.
What had woken him up out of his exhausted sleep was the strong smell of coffee—and bacon.
He had to be dreaming.
By the time he’d hurried through his shower and gotten dressed, he’d convinced himself that it was just a dream, a very realistic, vivid dream. He continued to believe that until he opened his door and went out into the hallway.
Rather than dissipate, like every good dream did in the light of day, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and frying bacon just grew stronger.
Curious, Steve went downstairs to investigate.
“Dad’s finally up!” Stevi announced when she saw him, making the declaration like an official town crier. Turning toward him, she added, “Becky didn’t want to wake you up because she said you needed your sleep, but I said you had to get up so you could get to work. We compromised. She decided to let the smell of bacon and coffee wake you up. And it did!”
“Good plan,” Steve said, his eyes meeting Becky’s. He decided to take a chance, and kissed his daughter’s head. To his amazement—and immense pleasure—Stevi didn’t pull away.
And the miracle continues, he thought, taking a seat at the table opposite his daughter.
Becky turned to glance at him over her shoulder. “Stephanie said you like your eggs scrambled, but I can make them any way you want if you’d rather have something else.” Finished, she slid the eggs from the pan.
“Something else?” he echoed. He looked down at the plate she set before him. Aside from the scrambled eggs and three strips of bacon, there was also toast, coffee and orange juice. “Am I still dreaming?” he asked his daughter.
“Uh-uh,” Stevi answered, shaking her head from side to side in an exaggerated motion.
Wiping her hands on a towel, Becky looked at Stevi’s father. She had to ask. “Why would you think you were dreaming?”
The reason for that was simple. “Because we don’t have breakfast at the house, other than cereal, unless I make it. Either that, or I stop at the drive-through.”
Becky didn’t understand. “I thought you said that you’d had housekeepers.”
“We did,” Steve verified. “Three of them. But none of them was too good in the kitchen, I’m afraid, and they really weren’t too keen on cooking in the morning. Getting up early to make breakfast and then get Stephanie ready for school required a lot of coordination, I guess,” he elaborated. “It turned out to be a lot easier if I just made it.” The taste was beginning to register, and he ate with gusto. “This is really good.”
Pleased but somewhat embarrassed at the same time, Becky shrugged. “It’s just breakfast,” she said evasively.
“And it’s much appreciated,” Steve replied as he made quick work of the meal.
“By the way, you don’t have to wolf down your food,” Becky told him. “I’m taking Stephanie to summer school today. That’ll give you a little extra time to finish eating breakfast at something like a leisurely pace before you leave.”
But it was too late; Steve had already cleaned his plate. “Maybe next time. Right now, I’ve still got an equation to finish,” he told her. “I think my brain just froze up last night, but the solution came to me this morning in the shower.” He tossed the last words over his shoulder as he started for the den. “I guess I think better wet,” he added, sending a wink in his daughter’s direction.
Becky picked up all the empty plates and took them to the sink. She ran water over them quickly. “Are you almost ready to go?” she asked Stevi.
“I’ve just gotta grab my backpack,” the girl told her.
Becky nodded. “That’ll give me just enough time to wash these, and then I’ll be ready, too.”
“Becky, could you come in here, please?” Steve called, raising his voice so that it would carry to the kitchen.
“I’ll wash the dishes,” Stevi volunteered, surprising Becky. When she looked at her quizzically, Stevi explained, “So you can see what Dad wants.”
Becky had a strong feeling that she knew what Stevi’s father wanted. Maybe she shouldn’t have done it, she thought, reconsidering her impulsive action.
The light had been left on in Steve’s office, so when she’d gotten up this morning and passed by the room, it seemed only natural to go in and shut it off. That was when she’d seen that Steve had left the computer on, as well. There was an equation in the middle of the screen and it was incomplete.
She’d debated leaving it alone, but just couldn’t. The incomplete equation seemed to be begging to be completed. So she did.
Now she realized that she should have just shut her eyes and left the room. Maybe Steve didn’t like people butting into his work.
Sucking up her courage, she approached the doorway. “Yes?” she asked, hoping that he’d called her in for another reason.
“Did you do this?” Steve asked, turning in his chair and gesturing to the screen.
Although it was very plain what he was talking about, Becky took a stab at playing innocent. “Do what, sir?”
“This equation,” Steve said, pointing to it on the monitor. The expression on his face looked as if it had been chiseled out of stone. “Did you solve it?”
Becky debated saying she had no idea what he was talking about, but there was no point in her denying what she’d done. And besides, if she lied, any credibility she had would go out the window.
“I’m sorry. It was just sitting there, waiting to be solved. I wasn’t snooping,” she quickly told him. “You left the light on, and when I passed the room this morning, I came in to switch it off. But then I saw that you’d left the equation incomplete and, well...” She sighed, embarrassed. “I guess I just couldn’t help myself. It won’t happen again, Mr. Holder,” she promised with feeling. “I know you’re within your rights to fire me if you want to, but—”
“Fire her?” Stevi cried indignantly. Uneasy, she’d decided to follow the housekeeper when she didn’t immediately return. “You can’t fire her, Dad. She’s the first good housekeeper we’ve had since forever, and I like her,” Stevi informed him, up in arms against the very suggestion that her father was going to let Becky go.
“If you’re both done talking, I’d like to say something,” Steve told the two of them.
Stevi crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes almost into slits. “What?” she demanded, ready to go another round in defense of the woman she’d taken a liking to, if it had to come down to that.
Steve turned his attention away from his daughter, even as he informed her, “I wanted to ask Rebecca how she came up with this answer.” Stunned, he looked quizzically at his housekeeper. This wasn’t an equation someone could just pull out of the
air. “Most people don’t have a clue how to even begin to solve this, much less come up with the right answer. Do you have a degree in aerospace engineering?” he asked in disbelief, fully expecting Becky to say that she didn’t.
His mystification didn’t originate because she was a woman, or even because she was so young. He was astonished because he was asking this question of his housekeeper. If Rebecca was capable of solving a problem like this, then what in the world was she doing working in a job like this?
Becky didn’t answer Steve’s question immediately. She was afraid that he would think she was lying—or crazy.
But then, finally, because he was waiting, she reluctantly admitted, “Yes, I do.”
This was insane, Steve thought. There had to be a mistake—but then, he reminded himself, she’d put down the right answer on the computer screen.
“A degree. From where?”
“Does it matter?” Becky asked, wanting to shrug off the whole thing.
Because she wasn’t answering, Steve found his curiosity increasing twofold. “It does to me.”
Becky pressed her lips together. “MIT,” she told him softly.
“MIT,” he repeated. “You have an engineering degree from MIT?”
Maybe he didn’t believe her, she thought. As much as she wanted to table the discussion, Becky raised her chin. “Yes.”
It wasn’t the easiest school to get into. Steve knew that for a fact. “You have a degree from MIT,” he stated in surprise.
“Dad, you just said that,” Stevi pointed out impatiently. “Don’t make her feel weird.”
Becky smiled at the girl for being protective, while Steve looked at her in astonishment. He wasn’t sure which surprised him more, that Stevi was coming to the housekeeper’s defense or that his housekeeper was an engineer.
His very young, very sexy housekeeper, he thought. That brought up another question. “How old were you when you got your degree?”
Becky looked at the floor. He could easily ask Mrs. Parnell for the information. Taking a breath, she told him. “Eighteen.”
“Eighteen,” he repeated, thunderstruck as he stared at her. “You graduated from MIT at eighteen. What the hell are you doing, working as a housekeeper, if you could easily be working as an engineer?” he asked, flabbergasted.
“Right now I’m taking your daughter to school,” Becky answered. He wasn’t telling her she was fired. Maybe there was still hope. Operating on that, she pushed on. “So if you’ll excuse me, I don’t want to make her late for class.” She looked at Stevi. “Are you ready to go?”
“Absolutely!” Stevi declared, sensing that they were making their getaway. “See you, Dad,” she called over her shoulder as she hurried out of his office.
Becky knew she was just putting off the inevitable, but maybe, if he had some extra time, it would be enough for him to cool off and rethink his decision about letting her go.
In hindsight, she realized that she shouldn’t have tampered with the equation. For all she knew, having her input the answer might have affected something else in the computer. And even if it didn’t, he probably didn’t like having his work tampered with. He might be one of those men who felt as if his space was invaded if someone else touched his computer. Especially a lowly housekeeper, she thought ruefully.
It was just that, for a fraction of a moment, things that she’d spent years learning all came back to her, seeking an outlet. And it seemed harmless enough, inputting a few numbers to make the equation complete.
You’re just too smart for your own good, Rebecca Ann Reynolds. She could almost hear her grandmother’s shrill voice.
Her grandmother had told her that more than once when she was growing up. She’d been one of those people who felt girls had to pretend not to be as smart as their male counterparts. That was just the way things were, she’d maintained.
More than once Becky had caught herself thinking that she would have hated to be growing up when her grandmother was a young girl.
But then, it wasn’t exactly a picnic being someone like her, either. Even now she caught herself feeling awkward once in a while. That was why she had decided to turn her back on being an engineer, choosing to do something simple instead. For the most part, her current work was rewarding. It had begun as a temporary solution, but she had begun to think that maybe it was a permanent one.
And then that equation had popped out to taunt her and tempt her. Now she wasn’t all that sure what she wanted.
Becky fervently hoped she hadn’t wound up ruining this new situation for herself by solving that equation for Steve.
Only time would tell. Until then, she was determined that she wasn’t going to drive herself crazy worrying about it.
“Don’t worry,” Stevi told her as she got into the car. “He’ll get over it. He’s nice that way.”
Becky smiled. “I guess we’ll add mind reader to your résumé when the time comes.”
“Mind reader,” the girl said, settling back in her seat. She seemed to roll the words over in her mind, then grinned. “I like that.”
“I figured you would,” Becky told her with a laugh.
Chapter Nine
Steve hadn’t meant to stay so late at work. As it turned out, he didn’t pull up into his driveway until almost nine thirty that evening. He expected to find the house quiet. Stevi’s bedtime was nine and the housekeepers he’d employed previously all retreated into their room as soon as they could, either to watch some TV program or to do something else they enjoyed.
So when he found Becky in the living room, reading a book, he was surprised on two counts. Because she was there instead of in her room, and because she wasn’t holding a tablet or a digital device, but an actual hardcover book.
Did anyone read books anymore? he wondered.
“You’re home,” she said, putting down the book the minute he came in and greeting him with a warm smile. Rising, she told him, “I’ll get out of your way in a second. Dinner’s on the stove.”
The woman was full of all sorts of surprises. “You left dinner for me?” He’d thought he would grab something cold out of the refrigerator and just call it a night.
“Well, you weren’t here to eat it, and I thought you’d prefer it warm to cold, so yes, I left dinner on the stove for you.” About to leave the room, she stopped when she took a closer look at him. “Hard day?” she asked.
“Long day,” Steve corrected. And then he shrugged philosophically. “No different, really, from any other long day.”
She nodded, taking his response to mean that he didn’t want to talk about it. That was her cue to leave. “Well, enjoy your dinner,” she told him cheerfully as she started toward the stairs again.
“Sit with me while I eat?” Steve suggested hopefully.
“Okay.” She hadn’t expected him to say that, but suppressed any sign of surprise.
Preceding him, Becky walked into the kitchen and headed straight for the stove. She picked up the covered plate and placed it on the table.
Caught off guard, he shook his head. “I didn’t mean I wanted you to serve me.”
“Well, since I’m here in the kitchen, I thought I might as well put your dinner on the table.” A smile flickered across her lips. “Besides, I think you’re probably a lot more tired than I am.”
His laugh was a dry one. “You might be right,” he allowed.
Taking a seat at the kitchen table, Steve stretched his legs out in front of him. “I feel like someone just sucked out my entire brain.”
“Colorful image,” she commented. Opening the refrigerator, she asked, “What would you like to drink?”
He picked up his fork and began eating. “I’d say a glass of wine, but in my present state, that just might put me out.”
She agreed, but kept that to herself. “How about a beer? That might relax you.�
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He vaguely remembered that he’d put a few bottles of beer into his refrigerator not all that long ago, although he couldn’t remember exactly when. “Not a bad idea,” he agreed.
As he watched, Becky took out a bottle, opened it and set it beside his plate. She looked as if she was ready to leave.
“Take a seat,” he urged.
Becky pulled out a chair and sat down, but it seemed as if she expected it to slip out from under her at any moment. He caught himself wondering if he made her nervous for some reason. If he did, he certainly didn’t mean to.
“So,” he said, after taking another few bites of the pork loin she’d made, then washing it down with a couple of sips of beer, “you really have a degree in aerospace engineering?” It was obvious that he found the information astonishing, not because he didn’t believe her but because she was working for him in the capacity of a housekeeper. It just didn’t compute, not after all the effort it took to graduate with that degree.
“Yes,” Becky answered with a smile, “I really do.”
He shook his head in amazement. “Then why would you want to work for a quarter of what you could make in the field?”
“Well, for one thing, I used to come home feeling just the way you looked when you came in through the door. Not at first,” she qualified, “but after about a year in the field. I worked really, really hard on the projects they assigned to me, doing my best not just to get them finished, but under budget and ahead of schedule.”
“They must have loved you,” he commented.
“I’m not sure about that,” she replied. “Whenever I finished a project, my only reward was being given another project to do.” She sighed as she remembered those days. “I didn’t feel as if what I did actually mattered. I mean, it mattered in the scheme of things,” she was quick to explain, “but on a one-to-one basis, I really felt that it didn’t.
“Yesterday, when Stephanie finally trusted me enough to tell me what was wrong, when I finally got through to her, it was as if there were a happy little parade going on in my head.” Her tone changed as she added, “There were no parades in the company I worked for.”
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