The Boss Next Door (Harlequin Heartwarming)

by Fox, Roz Denny

  Sherry decided to abandon the front row. Hassling the president wouldn’t advance her cause. Again, unexpectedly, she turned and plowed into Garrett Lock.

  This time, as his eyes cruised slowly over the stubborn set of her jaw, he wore a sympathetic expression.

  Sherry pushed past him and ended up next to Eli Aguilar. The look on his face remained guarded. Great! She probably ran last in the field of candidates. And if either Lock or Aguilar won, she’d have the same walls to scale as she’d had with Kruger. Or worse, she groaned inwardly. Eli would study every issue to death, and Garrett would hack the life out of the program.

  Sherry wasn’t sorry when Westerbrook announced that interviews were over for the day. His secretary, Fern Mitchell, opened her briefcase and handed each candidate a revised schedule for the next day.

  “As you’ll note,” Westerbrook said, “we meet at nine tomorrow in the lobby of the theater for coffee with the faculty. Immediately following, delegates from the Faculty Association will present a composite of their questions. So be prepared,” he warned. “Lunch in the boardroom will give you a chance to relax and regroup. At two, you’ll talk with students. Next day are the individual interviews, and after that friends of the college and other interested parties from the community will host a tea. At seven, there’ll be a dinner, where we hope to finalize a decision. I think that’s all until tomorrow.”

  “Wait.” Garrett Lock stepped forward. “I don’t know about Eli, but I’d like to see some of the city. Is that possible?”

  “We’d be glad to chauffeur you around, Dr. Lock, wouldn’t we, Sheldon?” Maxine March nudged her husband.

  “I appreciate the offer, Mrs. March, but in the interests of fairness, I thought perhaps Dr. Campbell...” He let the suggestion hang a moment. “Then neither Eli nor I would have greater access to anyone on the selection committee.”

  “Good thinking, my boy.” Westerbrook clapped Garrett on the back.

  Sherry started to refuse until she realized Lock was absolutely right.

  “I’d like to see the city,” Dr. Aguilar agreed. “But my wife is at the hotel. I hate to leave her behind.”

  Sherry imagined squeezing them all into the Ford Escort she hadn’t cleaned properly since school let out. The backseat was littered with folders and the floor with empty diet-soda cans. A brilliant idea struck. “I’m sure that, under the circumstances, Dr. Westerbrook will authorize us to use a vehicle from the motor pool. The white van,” she hinted, referring to their newest acquisition, knowing full well he didn’t like women to drive the state vehicles, period. She bit her lip to hide a smile as both Lock and Aguilar turned expectantly to the president.

  “Ahem.” He glanced at his secretary. “The white van? I...I suppose. But I want it returned before dark.”

  Sherry covered her surprise at his easy capitulation. “I’ll go back to the office with Fern to collect the key,” she said. “That’ll give Dr. Aguilar time to call his wife. Gentlemen, the motor pool is building twelve on your map. We’ll meet there in, say, fifteen minutes.” She checked her watch. Expecting to see Mickey’s gloved hands, she stared blankly at her arm for a moment.

  “I’ll take a cab to the hotel and wait with my wife. Do you mind? I have a phone call I need to make,” Eli told Sherry.

  “F-fine.” She didn’t like being left with Lock. “Maybe Dr. Lock would like to freshen up, too,” she said with sudden inspiration.

  “I’ll just come with you,” Garrett put in smoothly.

  Sherry didn’t want him tagging after her, although she couldn’t put her finger on exactly why. Curving her lips into a false smile, she inclined her head graciously. It unnerved her further when he hurried to open the door, then placed a hand lightly on her back to guide her through. At the top of the steps his hand slid to cup her elbow. Did the man not think she was capable of navigating stairs, for pity’s sake?

  Once they’d reached the bottom, however, and he withdrew his support, for some strange reason Sherry felt like a barge cut loose from its tug. She quickened her steps to catch up with the president’s secretary, who walked briskly along the path.

  Garrett lengthened his stride, too. He shot her a sidelong glance, trying to recall the last time he’d encountered such a prickly female. Normally he was the one backing away from women who came on too strong. Garrett didn’t know why he was annoyed, but he was.

  “Nice campus,” he said, taking his eyes off her to scan the brick courtyard where students gathered to study and talk.

  “Yes, it’s a wonderful place to work,” she admitted grudgingly. Lock tucked his hands in his pants pockets, and Sherry heard the rattle of change.

  “What can you tell me about the town’s elementary schools?”

  “In what regard?”

  A light shrug rustled his crisp shirt collar. “Gangs. Drugs. Anything of that nature.”

  “Thinking of changing fields?” she asked, sounding hopeful.

  “Nothing so drastic. I have a son going into third grade.”

  “A son. Oh. But I...I’d heard you were divorced,” she stammered.

  One sun-tipped brow feathered upward. “That’s correct.”

  Flustered, Sherry scrambled to form an answer to his first question. All her dealings had been with single mothers. She didn’t personally know any single dads. “I, ah, there’re very few problems in our school system. My mom retired last year after teaching in the district for thirty-five years.” Sherry waved her hands expansively. “I’m telling you this in case you think I’m whitewashing the situation.”

  “Frankly, I worried about the opposite.” Garrett struggled to hide a sheepish grin. “We are after the same job, remember. You might have said the schools were infested to the max on the off chance I’d drop out of the race.”

  She stopped and blinked at him. “I do want this job, Dr. Lock. But I wouldn’t lie to get it. I’ve worked hard to improve assistance offered by the crisis center and the rape-relief-counseling program at the Hub. I believe I’m the most qualified to direct Human Services.”

  “Fair enough.” He hesitated. “Call me Garrett, please.”

  Sherry abruptly picked up her pace. “This afternoon I’m your tour guide. Tomorrow and the next day we go back to being rivals. If I’m chosen, we’ll never see each other again. If you are, I’ll call you Dean Lock.”

  “Ouch. You don’t pull any punches. Most women—”

  “I’m not most women, Doctor. We’re here. Excuse me, please. I’ll go sign for the car keys.” This man really unnerved her.

  Garrett rocked back on his heels as she strode through the door with the frosted glass. He watched her shadow, and for just a moment, a sense of familiarity knotted his stomach. Then it disappeared, leaving him with nothing but the sting of her rebuff. He studied the two women’s silhouettes on the glass and noticed that his opponent talked with her hands. Both outlines were tall and slender, but Dr. Campbell was more...feminine.

  Garrett seesawed from one foot to the other, briefly wondering about the woman behind that severe blue suit. He clamped down hard on the unexpected attraction he felt. He didn’t have those kinds of feelings about women colleagues. And if he ever did, he’d pick one less abrasive than Sherilyn Campbell. She wasn’t his type. In fact, she was the complete opposite of his type, in personality and appearance.

  Her ultrashort hair was off-putting, Garrett argued silently. He frowned as her silvery laughter wafted through the narrow opening in the door, making mockery of the fact that he’d tried to convince himself he only found women with long hair attractive.

  Discovering that he wasn’t nearly as impervious to the professor as he wanted to be cooled Garrett’s eagerness for the tour he’d instigated. Now he wished he’d let well enough alone.

  They walked in complete silence to collect the van. Few words passed between
them as Sherry drove to the hotel to pick up Eli Aguilar and his wife. She did slow once to point out the George Caleb Bingham Gallery of Fine Art, adding, “Over there—the building with the black reflective windows—that’s the insurance company where my dad’s worked for nearly forty years.” Thawing a bit, she smiled. “Mom bugs him to retire. They have a house on five acres east of town. Both are horticulture hobbyists. Ever since I was little, they’ve talked about building a greenhouse. But Dad’s a conscientious agent. He can’t say no to people who refer clients. I wish he’d slow down.”

  Garrett noted her wistful expression when she spoke of family. It softened her features. “Quite a feat to live in the same town for forty years. I had hoped— Well, never mind. Things happen,” he said, turning to gaze out the side window.

  It was on the tip of Sherry’s tongue to ask what had made him apply for this job and leave a place he obviously disliked leaving—although she still didn’t know what Texas college town that was. Nor was there time to probe. They’d reached the hotel. Sherry spotted Aguilar and a petite pretty woman standing at the entrance.

  Garrett got out when Sherry stopped. He opened the van’s side door, closing it again once Eli and his wife were buckled into the center seat.

  “This is my wife, Marguerite,” Eli announced proudly. “I apologize for asking you to go out of your way. I know it was an inconvenience, but we left our three children with their grandparents. I wanted to call and see how they’re getting along.”

  “Three.” Garrett whistled through his teeth. “I have one son. He keeps me hopping. ’Course, I’m a single dad,” he said, in case Aguilar didn’t know.

  Sherry couldn’t begin to explain the sudden yearning that struck her. Yet it’d struck with greater frequency this past year. When she found herself sitting with groups who discussed their children, she felt a gap in her life. To cover her discomfort, she smiled at Eli’s wife in the rearview mirror.

  The woman smiled back. “It’s kind of you to show us around.”

  “I thought I’d drive past libraries, museums and hospitals,” Sherry said. “The insurance industry, medical services, colleges and a university make up the backbone of our city’s economy. I’ll circle our biggest shopping mall and go through a new housing development, as well as a more established neighborhood. Barring traffic problems, I’ll have you back at your hotel in time for dinner.”

  The Aguilars nodded in agreement.

  Garrett settled comfortably into the seat. “Fine as a frog hair split four ways,” he said in a husky drawl.

  His remark made no sense to Sherry. But the timbre of his voice had the same effect as someone using her spine as a piccolo. After that, she did most of the talking. Sherry’s pride in Columbia was unmistakable. Her passengers were kept so busy craning their necks this way and that no one had time for questions.

  Garrett asked the first after they’d completed the circuit and she’d again pulled under the awning at their hotel. “There were no For Sale signs in the residential areas. Not even in that new development. Do they not allow signs or what?”

  “They do. Right now our growth exceeds available housing.”

  “But there are rentals?” Garrett had climbed out, shut his door and leaned in the side door where the Aguilars got out.

  Sherry’s hands tightened on the wheel. Did Lock sense he was the leading candidate? Was that why he pressed for details that wouldn’t matter if he didn’t get the nod? “I’m afraid you’ll have to ask someone in real estate,” she said stiffly. Purposely glancing at her no-nonsense watch, she added, “You might still catch an agent if you hurry.”

  “Here’s your hat and don’t trip on the way out?” Garrett deadpanned. “Seriously, Sherilyn,” he said softly, ignoring her earlier insistence that they stick to titles. “Speaking for the Aguilars and myself, we appreciate your time and trouble.”

  Sherry bit her lip. “It wasn’t any trouble...Professor.”

  “No? Then maybe you’ll let me buy you dinner by way of saying thanks.” Where had that come from? Garrett could count on one hand the number of women he’d asked out since Carla left. Most of those dinners had been job-related functions that required a partner.

  For a few seconds Sherry actually considered accepting his offer. Why was a mystery. News of their hobnobbing would get out and reach the interview team. Shaking her head, she refused. “I can’t. My roommate expects me home to cook dinner,” she said. “I left meat marinating. But thanks for the offer. See you tomorrow.” She pointedly shifted the van into drive so he’d take the hint and withdraw.

  Garrett did, all the while picturing some dude in a suit and tie pacing from window to window waiting for her to get home to cook his meal. He had a hard time bringing that frame into focus. Once he did, he felt like a fool for assuming that just because Sherilyn Campbell wore no wedding ring she was free.

  Sherry saw him glower at her taillights even after she’d waved to the Aguilars and headed off. Why that look? He had to know that college towns were notorious for gossip. Unless he hoped it would compromise her if she’d accepted his invitation. It was her town, after all.

  She turned at the corner, effectively cutting off her view of the disturbing Dr. Lock. Sherry didn’t want to think he’d play dirty politics, but the truth was she didn’t know him at all.

  And speaking of truth, she’d made a big deal earlier of her honesty, saying she wouldn’t lie. But she’d known very well that Yvette wasn’t waiting at home.

  Sherry returned the van, then did what she did most nights. She went home to an empty town house and a solitary dinner in front of the TV.

  Tonight was marginally different. Pictures of finalists for the dean’s position had made the local news. Her phone rang off the hook. Friends called to congratulate or commiserate depending on their point of view. Not her parents or Nolan. They and Emily were probably grouped around the dinner table poring over wedding plans.

  Getting up, Sherry put her plate in the dishwasher. Why couldn’t she just be pleased for Nolan and Emily? No two people deserved happiness more. A man didn’t buy a big house like Nolan had and toil to restore it unless he intended to fill it with a family. And Emily had been stuck too long in a loveless first marriage.

  Depressed, yet not fathoming why, Sherry switched the phone to her answering machine and went to bed.

  In the morning she slept through her alarm. As a result, she was late for the second day in a row. Today there were more people to stare as she burst into the room. Half the faculty juggled plates and coffee cups while pitching pet projects to the regents. The other half didn’t care. Sherry had done her share of politicking at these functions in the past. She’d forgotten how loud it could get until she walked in and a hush fell over the room.

  “I overslept,” she mumbled, making a beeline for the coffee urn. She felt a pair of eyes drilling her back as she fixed her coffee with two packets of sugar and a generous measure of cream. Normally she drank her coffee black. Somehow the thought of being grilled by peers this morning made her stomach churn. There was a lot of jealousy in academia. When she angled sideways to get a fix on where today’s animosity came from, she encountered Garrett Lock’s penetrating blue gaze.

  Her hand shook and she dumped sugar all over the pristine tablecloth. What had happened between yesterday and today to make him look so fierce? Thank goodness she saw Nolan detach himself from a group and head toward her with arms outstretched. Sherry turned from Lock to meet her brother’s bear hug.

  Across the room, Garrett registered Sherry Campbell’s lateness and her slightly rumpled appearance. He put them together with her remark about oversleeping and pictured her snuggled in bed with the man she had offhandly referred to as her roommate. Was that him now—the long-legged galoot making a spectacle of them center stage?

  But no, when Garrett got a good look at the two side by
side, it was easy to see their resemblance. That made the man Nolan Campbell. Garrett’s jaw sagged. He wouldn’t have recognized the historian if they’d bumped into each other on the street. That night on the prairie, the man who’d ridden into his camp—after the crazy woman and her companion had taken off—had badly needed a shave. Rough outdoor clothing had made him appear huskier, too.

  What came as an even bigger shock to Garrett—viewing brother and sister together like this—was knowing exactly why Sherilyn Campbell had niggled at his memory. She was the wild woman who’d done her best to brain him. A fire caught slowly in Garrett’s belly.

  Nolan Campbell had known it all along. He’d accepted Garrett’s hospitality, drunk his coffee and shot the breeze amiably, the way men out camping did. All the while lying through his teeth. How could Campbell not have known that his sister had applied for this job? The job he’d been well aware Garrett was applying for! And he must have known she was the one who’d bloodied Garrett’s head, too. Well! The distinguished history prof had some explaining to do.

  Garrett excused himself from the pocket of faculty members. “I see an old friend.” Grinding his teeth, he set a straight course for the Campbells, and as he drew near, heard their raised voices. He wasn’t close enough to sort out what the argument was about.

  Listening to Nolan, Sherry felt guilty and annoyed in equal parts.

  “I can’t believe you kept news like this from the family, Sherilyn.” He sounded more than a little hurt.

  “You were all submerged in wedding plans. And I know you spent every spare minute on the house so that Emily and the kids’ll be able to leave Mom and Dad’s by the wedding and move out to your place. How’s the remodeling going?”

  “Fine. Emily’s nose is out of joint because you’ve dropped out of sight. At least now she’ll understand. She’s counting on you to be her maid of honor, sis.”