Calculated Risk (8 page)

His free hand wiped the sweat from his
forehead. “Those were lost years, Stevie. I can’t even remember
them…or maybe I just don’t want to.” Quintin’s voice registered
amazement. “What I do remember is missing my son’s first steps,
hearing him call the sitter’s husband ��Da-da’ and feeling both
guilty and resentful every time I looked at him. Hell, I was only
in my twenties and fed up with being responsible for everything and
everyone. Sometimes I…I…” He groped for the right words and failed
to find them.

For the first time since he started
speaking, Quintin looked at Stevie. He wondered what he would see –
pity, condemnation. But her eyes were soft amber brown, and they
held respect, admiration and understanding. That, coupled with the
continued pressure from her hand, gave him the courage to
continue.

“Things were easier once Rob started
school. I was even able to resume my engineering studies.
Eventually I got my degree and, with a little money and a lot of
bravado, I took over a bankrupt construction company and slowly
brought it back into the world of profit.

“I became obsessed with work and the
almighty dollar. I wanted to get ‘there’ yesterday and was never
quite sure where ‘there’ was. I felt cheated out of so much and
envious of my crew’s freewheeling lifestyle. I was bitter and surly
and so very angry.”

Quintin gave a rueful laugh. “What
really scared me was that one day I turned around and discovered my
baby son was full grown. He was a teenager on the threshold of
becoming a man.

“We were both older. Rob was savoring
his coming of age, while I was cursing time. I was again consumed
with guilt and tried to recover all the lost years, to give my son
all the things he had missed.

“I had always wanted Rob to have a
house with a backyard, so I bought Cedar Hill and together we built
ourselves a home. I was after this great one-to-one relationship
with my son, more friend and pal than parent. I had this secret
dream that he would emulate me, become an engineer or perhaps an
architect, and we’d be partners. But Rob wasn’t interested in
construction; he was fascinated with music and –“

“And that’s when I came in,” Stevie
finished. “The older woman, the florist’s bill for a fresh rose
every day. It’s no wonder you thought –“

His right hand clamped solidly over
hers, sandwiching it between both of his. “I incorrectly assumed
that history was repeating itself.” Brown eyes stared into hazel.
“Stevie, I am so sorry. I –“

Her fingers stilled his lips. “I’ll say
this just one more time: You’ve been forgiven.” She was thoughtful
for a long moment. “Quintin, I still think I should fire Rob on
Monday. Out of sight, out of mind,” came her offer. “Oh, Rob may
brood and become sullen, but –“ She pursed her lips. “Now, why are
you shaking your head?”

“Because you don’t understand the
teenage mind,” he argued. “Kid’s don’t crawl into corners and sulk.
Everything is a punishment. They run away and end up working the
streets or joining cults or committing suicide. One boy killed
himself because he had his game player taken away.”

“You’re letting that newspaper article
undermine your common sense,” she was quick to protest. “Rob’s a
good, decent kid who knows right from wrong. You’ve given him the
best upbringing. He’s not going to turn into…into a juvenile
delinquent over me.”

“That’s probably what my parents
thought,” came his abrupt rejoinder. “I was Rob. I’ve been in his
position. My folks kept telling me that I had my whole future ahead
of me; I was making a fool of myself with Andrea; she was too old
for me and I didn’t know what love was. Did I listen?
No.”

His fist slammed against his thigh. “I
was stubborn and headstrong and knew everything The more they
talked against her, the more fiercely I protected her; the more
they pointed out all the bad, the more good I saw. I moved out.
They disowned me the day I married her. And Rob … well, he suffered
again. It was a long time before my parents and I were able to get
back together.

“Rob is his father’s son.” Quintin
sighed, the grooves in his lean cheeks deepening under stress. “He
was very vocal last night in his protection of you”

Stevie winced. “All right. I won’t fire
him.” She rubbed her nose while she did some further consideration.
“He’s misinterpreted the atmosphere in my office,” she explained.
“While I run a very tight, strict ship, everyone is exceptionally
friendly and relaxed.” Her eyes widened. “How about if I start
being more sharp and curt, perhaps even rude? No more freebees, no
more tickets, no more CD’s. Nothing. I can try to arrange my
calendar so I’m out of the office the afternoons Rob works and when
I am there, he’ll find me more Iron Maiden.” She gave Quintin a
hopeful smile.

His knuckle stroked the soft curve of
her cheekbone. “Iron Maiden?” Both his eyes and his voice
registered doubt.

“Hey, I can be vicious,” came her stout
affirmation.

“I bet you can.” His tone was soft and
not at all mocking. “But if you make such a sudden change, Stevie,
Rob would probably accuse me of turning you against him, and then
who knows what he’d do.” Quintin shook his head. “Rob is in love
with you. He’s living in this storybook dream world, where you’re
the fair princess and he’s the handsome prince on the white charger
who sweeps you off your feet and carries you away to –“

“A gingerbread castle covered with
candy,” she mumbled, pushing her empty plate to one side. Elbows on
the table, Stevie rested her chin her hands; three vertical lines
furrowed her smooth forehead. “How about talking to a psychologist
or the high school guidance counselor? Or –“ she gave a little
scream when Quintin’s open palm hit the top of the glass
table.

“Sorry, but you just gave me the most
brilliant idea.”

“I…I did?”

“Yes –“ Quintin grabbed her shoulders,
“—when you mentioned candy!” He laughed at her wide-eyed blank
expression. “What happens when someone eats too much
candy?”

“They break out and gain ten pounds,”
came Stevie’s sullen response.

“They get sick,” he corrected. “Sick to
the point of nausea, so sick they never want to see candy
again.”

She nodded in mute agreement, eyes
narrowing in contemplation of Quintin’s ever broadening
grin.

“You
are going to be Rob’s candy,” he announced, his index finger
pushing up her dropped jaw. “We are going to cram Stephanie Brandt
down his throat until the mention of your name makes him physically
ill.”

“Gee, thanks a lot!” Twisting her
shoulder free, Stevie slumped down in the chair. “That’s a stupid
idea.”

“It’s brilliant.” Quintin sat back,
arms folded across his chest. “If I told Rob he couldn’t have you,
he’d want you…so I’ll tell him to go for it. I’ll tell him to treat
you just like any other date, and if it’s true love, the age
difference won’t matter.”

“Stupid, stupid, stupid.” Each word was
repeated more loudly and firmly than the last.

“Nonsense. It’s perfect. Rob will see
how out of place you are in the high school world. His friends will
tease the hell out of him, and you know how effective peer group
pressure is. All you have to do is act bored and say how childish
everything is.”

“I will be bored and this is childish.”
Abruptly Stevie squared her shoulders and assumed her most
intimidating business stare. “Quintin, I am the president of a
corporation. I do not have time for this idiocy.” She made her tone
sound as vicious as possible. “Why don’t you just turn him over
your knee and paddle some sense into him? I’ll even hold him down,”
she offered with a smile.

“Stevie, please. This will work,
believe me. Reverse psychology. Let them have what they want and
then they don’t want it.”

“But I hated being a
teenager, and going through high school the first time was tragic
enough! No. Never. No…” Stevie discovered her biggest mistake was
looking at Quintin. His eyes were wide chestnut pools that tugged
at her heart, and his silently mouthed
please
proved to be her final
undoing. “Damn! All right. I’ll go along with this –“ she pointed
an accusing finger “—but only for a while and it had better work
and work fast.”

“This is a very well calculated risk.”
Quintin rubbed his hand together. “My plan is
foolproof.”

“So why do I feel like the fool?”
Stevie grumbled.

“I’m going home and start the ball
rolling.” He stood up and lifted his tuxedo jacket from the back of
the dining room chair. “When Rob comes to work on Monday, you just
act the part of a woman in love.”

Stevie trailed after him to the door.
“I’ll…I’ll try.”

Quintin heard the reluctance in her
voice and observed the dejected slump of her posture. His hands
cupped her face; thumbs gently tracing the curve along her
cheekbones. “Just cover up those freckles and add a healthy splash
of that perfume you were wearing last night.”

His admission piqued her vanity. “You
mean my perfume actually made an impression?” She moved closer, her
bare feet stepped between his shoes. Through a fringe of black
lashes, she gauged the subtle change in him. The puritanical father
was now a responsive male.

Virile hands followed the
supple curve of her neck before sliding around her tapered back.
The fluid ivory silk moved against the calloused roughness of his
fingers. “On my personal Richter scale of one to ten –“ Quintin’s
voice deepened; his eyes concentrated on her half-parted lips “—you
registered a twenty. And this is so you’ll know what
I
call a
kiss.”

His mouth took leisurely possession of
hers. The firm masculine lips were compelling and purposeful as
they stroked the satiny fullness of their feminine counterpart. His
inquisitive tongue probed into the lush recesses beyond,
trespassing to savor her sweetness.

The heat of Quintin’s body burned into
Stevie. Her skin felt hot and tingling, shot through with delicious
sensations that made her tremble against his lean frame. Her hands
made fluttering motions in the air; her fingers anchored into his
wide belt, seeking support. Blood effervesced in her veins. Stevie
felt as if she had drunk a magnum of champagne.

When Quintin finally released her, they
were broth breathing hard. “You’re right,” she acknowledged, her
right hand twisting the doorknob. “You do know how to kiss.” She
gave him a little shove into the brisk morning air.

The blinking light on the telephone
alerted Stevie to a phone call. Pulling headphones from her ears,
she lifted the receiver and heard Quintin’s voice. “I’m just
calling with a progress report and to make sure you’re not getting
cold feet about tomorrow.”

Uncurling her legs, she contemplated
her wiggling poppy-red toenails. “More than my feet are cold,” she
groused. “Quintin, I don’t like deceiving Rob. I don’t like
deceiving anyone.”

“This is not a matter of deception,” he
countered quickly, his tone low and soothing. “We are actually
saving him from reacting impulsively and ruining his whole life.”
Quintin cleared his throat. “Rob and I had quite a civil chat about
you last night. My compliance surprised him, but at least the
father-son lines of communication are still open.”

She sniffed and sighed. “I’m glad about
that.”

“Tomorrow afternoon, just do your
womanly duty and seduce my son.”

“That’s easier said than done,” came
her caustic retort. “I haven’t got the faintest idea how to seduce
a seventeen-year-old child.”

“I know just the thing to get you in
the mood,” he announced. “An orgy.” He laughed at her strangled
reply and added, “I’ll be there in half an hour.”

By the time the door chimes heralded
Quintin’s arrival, Stevie had whipped herself into a fine rage. Her
greeting echoed the Sunday night weather: frigid and frosty.
“You’ve really got crust, Quintin Ward. I thought we –“

“No…
this
has crust, Miss Brandt.” He
tapped the large white cardboard box. Brown eyes were alight with
laughter at her disapproving expression. “Pepperoni, wasn’t it?”
Quintin chucked her under the chin. “You’re right, you do look as
good in fleece as you did in silk,” he added, viewing with
appreciation the floor-length gray sweatshirt lounger that draped
her well-curved figure in soft sweater like folds.

“My, my, but you are in good humor!”
Stevie found it impossible to halt the smile that curved her lips.
She motioned him inside. “Are things that much improved between you
and Rob?”

“Let’s just say that I felt confident
enough that when he said he was going to the movies with a few
buddies and then stopping at the video arcade, I believed him.” He
followed her into the living room. “Yesterday, I would have
suspected him of planning to run away.” Quintin tried to sound
offhanded with his next question. “I called you a couple of times
yesterday but kept getting your answering machine.”

“Were you the seven clicks?” She
relocated the red amaryllis dish garden from the massive cocktail
table to a corner and took possession of the aromatic carton. “I
was at the studio, monitoring a music video taping that lasted well
into this morning.” Her auburn hair swung toward the plum lacquered
wall unit where the television was broadcasting video but not
audio. “There’s the finished product.”