One Sexy Daddy (9 page)

Stacy wiped the dirt from her hands and went back to her car.

 

“L
ASSER HERE
,” the voice said in gruff staccato. “I got your message. Are you getting this project approved by that pain-in-the-neck mayor or not?”

Adam stared down at the drafting table where he had been unsuccessfully eyeballing the proposed elementary school for an hour and thirty minutes.

“Don't know,” he said. “I've got another meeting with him scheduled for this afternoon.”

“Soft. Huh, still don't know what he means by soft. Did you try a fountain? Maybe he'd like fountains. Try putting in some Greek columns. And a statue. Statues are good, especially if they're of a hero. Maybe they would like one of me since I'm giving them the building.”

Adam penciled in a row of florid columns on the exterior wall.

“You're charging them cost,” he pointed out.

“True,” Lasser agreed. “But if I'm not making a profit I consider that giving it to them. Now get some softness to the project. Every day you spend in Wisconsin is money out of my pocket. And what about the female population?”

“What about 'em?”

“Are you getting yourself—and my company—
in trouble? When I was growing up, Deerhorn was as boring as one of those highfalutin plays the present Mrs. Lasser takes me to. No nightclubs, no casinos, no racetracks, no gambling—”

“It's not that bad,” Adam said. “I've got my daughter with me. I'm learning the joys of safe streets, public schools and bakeries where the staff give your kid a free cookie just for saying please.”

He didn't mention the other pleasures of Deerhorn.

“That doesn't sound like you, Adam.”

“You're right. It isn't.”

“Now let's talk about a city you'll really like.”

“What is it?” Adam said, absently doodling a water fountain.

“Vegas.”

“I thought Ryan was doing the casino.”

“He quit yesterday. Got a better offer from a New York outfit. I called the Vegas client and they've got a two-month delay just getting the demolition permit for tearing down the shopping center they're putting the casino on top of. They've heard of your work and they want you enough to wait. I want you there in two months and one day.”

“My own job? No interference from you or anybody else?” Adam asked, putting a nude woman with a water-gushing pitcher on top of the fountain. The woman had ornate curls and a piquant smile.

“No one looking over your shoulder,” Lasser
promised. “Biggest job you've ever done. And if you finish it on time and under budget—like you always do—there's a vice president's job here for you.”

“Full partner,” Adam countered. He put some Grecian columns on the building and a brick courtyard for the statue.

Lasser sighed heavily.

“I guess that's been your ambition from when you joined the firm. Full partner then. You'll get your pick of Lasser & Thomas jobs all over the world.”

“Lasser, Thomas & Tyler,” Adam corrected, putting the finishing touches on a statue of Lasser charging a granite horse into battle.

“Fine,” Lasser snapped and hung up.

“My daddy is a plumber,” Sammy announced in the playroom. “If my daddy wasn't working, nobody would have water.”

“My daddy is a general contractor,” Karen retorted. “He's building the new school. He just got finished building a hospital in Brazil.”

Sammy stopped ramming his dump truck into the toy parking lot long enough to stare.

“Did he do the ho'pital all by himself?”

“He had lots of workers.”

“Bulldozers?” Sammy asked, shoving a thumb into his mouth.

“A hundred bulldozers,” Karen said, although she wasn't sure whether there were bulldozers and if there were, how many. She remembered the picture he had sent back from his trip. “He drove a Jeep. It didn't have a top and it was dirty all the time. He drove through the Amazon and never, ever cleaned it!”

“Wow!” Sammy said.

“Our mom does bookkeeping,” Sammy's younger brother Mark said, unwilling to have his family outdone.

“What's bookkeeping?” Karen asked.

“I dunno,” Mark said earnestly. “But she does it for my dad. What does your mom do?”

Karen scrunched her lips together. She didn't like that question. And she wasn't sure she liked playing with these boys. They crashed their trucks together and they fought with their action figures—the boys got very angry when she called them dolls.

“I don't have one anymore,” she said.

The boys' mouths opened to small, round Os. No mother? They looked awestruck.

“Who takes care of you?” Sammy asked.

“My dad.”

“Your dad can cook?”

“Not real good.”

“When we had in-sue-hoot day, our mom let us watch TV,” Sammy said. “What did your daddy do?”

“He let me play with Stacy.”

“Did she take you to play in the dirt?”

“She let me use the tiny shovel.”

“Sweet,” the boys said in unison. Their frank admiration made Karen feel better. She told them, in detail, about how she got to help push the wheelbarrow and pull the weeds out of the ground. The
boys' eyes widened when she described hosing down the newly transplanted flowers.

“Did you get dirty?” Mark asked.

“Real dirty,” Karen bragged, though if she had been entirely forthcoming she would have told the boys that she hadn't liked it at the time.

“Super sweet,” the boys agreed.

Karen felt so much better about them that she agreed to play war so long as she could be the queen of the side that won. When Stacy drove her home, she would ask Stacy if she wanted to be her new mom.

 

I
T WASN'T COMING
.

Ordinarily he could hear three or four client comments, draft a sample drawing on the spot—a cocktail napkin, the back of a shipping receipt, even a stick and a patch of sand would do—and by the next meeting, he'd have a plan that would wow the client and have the project less than a day behind schedule. A day that he'd make up later, hour by hour, so that the changes would scarcely make a ripple in the final project.

Today, the word
soft
still had him stopped in his tracks. Or maybe it was the pressure of the title “Lasser, Thomas & Tyler” etched in the smoked glass of the doors to the Chicago headquarters. Or maybe it was Stacy.

Once? Just once?

Just when they got started, it was over?

He hadn't “gotten over” anything. Once—or however many times they had made love—was simply not enough.

How could she so calmly walk away from him? How could she pick up Karen to take her to school without so much as a wink in his direction? How could she so placidly tell him that it was nice but it was over?

He uncrumpled the picture of the new school with its Greek columns, gurgling waterfall, and two-story tall statue of J. P. Lasser. He stuck it up with thumbtacks on the bulletin board he had over his drawing board.

He dialed the phone with some trepidation.

“Deerhorn Village Hall, this is Betty. How can I help?”

“Betty, this is Adam Tyler.”

“Oh, hell-oooo,” her voice softened to a purr. “How was last night?”

“Don't ask. But thanks. I was calling because I'm going to have to—”

“Didn't I tell you Stacy is a wonderful girl?”

“You did.”

“Isn't Stacy beautiful?”

“Yes, she's a very beautiful woman. But I was calling—”

“Why don't you two go out some night on your own? Actually take her out.”

“Where?”

“What do you mean, where?”

“Where in Deerhorn does a fellow take a woman?”

“Geneva. Next town over. Forty miles. Takes about an hour to get there. Anyhow, I'll take your daughter. I've baby-sat all nine of my grandchildren and they always have a wonderful time at my house.”

Adam thought about his promise to Stacy. Secrecy. Absolute secrecy. And then he thought about Lasser & Thomas.

“Mrs. Carbol, we're not dating,” he said firmly. There was such a profound pause that he added, “Mrs. Carbol, are you still there?”

“But I thought after last night—”

“No.”

“I hope Stacy doesn't get the wrong idea about you.”

“I'm sure she won't.”

Mrs. Carbol sighed heavily. There was something decidedly chilly about her next words.

“And what is it you were calling about?”

“I have to cancel the meeting this afternoon,” he said, leaning over his file cabinet to see Stacy's compact car pulling up her drive. “I have to, uh, work out materials delivery.”

“Sure, Adam.”

She hung up.

Adam threw down his pencil and went outside.

As he watched Stacy help Karen out of the pas
senger seat, he wondered when she had become a stunner.

Watch it, buddy, he told himself. No making this something it isn't. No falling in love—or letting her fall in love.

With just a moment's consideration, he realized the odds were definitely stacked against her. He had the sophistication and the experience to guard against the stealthy emotions of entanglement. After all, just now he had caught himself being in awe of her, when rationally he knew that her nose was just a little too small for her face and her eyes just a little too big. See? He could stop himself mid-admiration. But what about Stacy?

If he found it hard to make this a one-time thing, she couldn't be so cold as to walk away without regret.

She turned as Karen darted from the car, and when Stacy's eyes met his, he steeled himself for her adoration.

Funny, she didn't look as if she thought he was anything other than pond scum.

Karen ran by Adam with an offhand hello.

“Remember, you have ballet lessons tomorrow,” Stacy reminded her just as the back door slammed.

“What's her problem?”

He put his arms around her, but she evaded him.

“Stacy, what'd I do?”

“Adam, no.”

“No one can see us.”

“Karen could if she looked out the window.”

“And?”

“She would get the wrong idea.”

“And what is the wrong idea?”

She turned on him, eyes filling with tears.

“Do you know what she asked me in the car coming home? She asked me if I would be her new mom.”

“Oh,” he said. “If it makes you feel any better, it's not the first time she's asked a woman. That's why I don't date women in Chicago anymore. She meets them, she wants them to move in.”

“I told her that I loved her very much and I would always be here whenever you two returned to Deerhorn. But that I couldn't be her mom. And that you're leaving in two months. After the school is built. That I'd be helping her out until then. That I'd love to spend a lot of time with her. And that we're not romantically involved in any way.”

He swallowed hard. Here's where she would tell him that she didn't mean to fall in love, but she had.

“Stacy—”

“You're a dad first,” Stacy said, wagging a finger at him. “And a dad doesn't get to have relationships. At least, not the temporary kind. Be careful wherever you go next.”

“Las Vegas.”

“Be careful in Las Vegas. So that she doesn't get hurt.”

They stood side by side; to any observer they would have appeared to be intensely interested in the new growth of lilies peeping out from under the mud.

“I wanted to send you flowers,” he said, feeling an unaccountable urge to put things to right.

“The florist would have known.”

“I wanted to call you.”

“I was at my sister's and she's a gossip.”

“I want to make love to you again.”

Stacy took a deep breath. “Adam, you've given me a wonderful gift.”

Uh-oh, he thought, she's not going to tell me that she loves me.

“But we're not doing that again.”

No
, Adam thought,
she can't possibly mean—

“We are going to be what we are…neighbors. Just plain neighbors.”

He scowled.

“Repeat after me—Stacy, my neighbor. Who helps me out with baby-sitting, but that's about all.”

“Stacy my neighbor. Who is the most magnificently beautiful woman when she's naked and—”

“Adam,” she warned, wagging her finger.

“What? We can do this, Stacy. We can keep a secret.”

“Not in Deerhorn.”

He closed his eyes. Defeat. Real defeat. No argument from him.

“Stacy, my neighbor,” he said.

“It's really for the best. I've had my…experience. It's been wonderful. More than wonderful. But it's not going to happen again.”

“Stacy, my neighbor,” he repeated.

“Who helps me out with baby-sitting.”

“Stacy, my neighbor who helps me out with baby-sitting.”

“Eight bucks an hour, Adam. Just so that I can prove to anybody who questions it that this is strictly a business relationship.”

 

“W
HAT IS THIS
about you and your neighbor?” Mayor Pincham asked, peering through his reading glasses at the new plans Adam brought in the next morning.

“Nothing,” Adam said smoothly. “She's my neighbor. I've hired her to baby-sit Karen. That's about it.”

The mayor looked up speculatively. “She's quite pretty, in her own way,” he said.

“I don't think there's any ‘in her own way' about it. She's pretty,” Adam said, and added quickly when the mayor's head bobbed up. “She's pretty…for being a neighbor.”

“She's too leggy,” the mayor sniffed. “Too tall. I like a woman who can look up to me.”

A lesser man would have told the mayor that the
reason a woman of Stacy's quite medium height couldn't look up to him was because he was little more than five seven, even in those special shoes that were more heel than toe.

“She's got a way with plants, though,” the mayor mused. “And that's a good thing for a spinster to have—a hobby.”

Adam sputtered an objection to the word
spinster
.

“Helpful to the community and all,” said the mayor. “She put in a bed of roses for my wife that made my house look ten times better. Although maybe if Stacy put on a little makeup and fixed up her hair a little, she'd be right attractive. You know, like my secretary Betty. Both of them good-looking women…for their ages.”

Adam surged with a protective impulse. Nobody could tell him that his woman was…

Wait a minute.

She wasn't his woman. He was just the neighbor. He squelched his retort and nodded in a barely agreeable fashion.

“Ditch those Greek columns,” the mayor said pleasantly. “That's not what Deerhorn's about. And you're still not quite getting it. The place looks too institutional.”

“Mr. Lasser was suggesting a statue.”

“Of me? That's not a bad…”

“No, of him.”

The mayor's lip curled.

“I'll just take another crack at the plans,” Adam said, rolling up the sheets.

“One other thing, Mr. Tyler.”

“Yes, Mayor?”

“Me and the Mrs. are having a few people over for dinner tomorrow night and we'd like to have you. Why don't you scare up a date? Bring your daughter as well—that's always how we do things in Deerhorn.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Oh, and Adam?”

“Yes?”

“Don't ever bring up the idea of having a statue of Lasser again,” he said in a voice as soft as butter and as sure as a knife. “That building's not a freebie—it's at cost. If my taxpayers have to pay cost, it's not a gift. I don't care if that weasel isn't making a profit on the deal.”

Adam gathered his etchings and shoved them back into his briefcase. When he walked out into the reception area, Betty Carbol sniffed and looked away.

“Jerk,” she said.

“Pardon me?”

“Nothing.”

 

“A
BSOLUTELY NOT
,” Amber said. “When you get to Vegas, you can call me and I'll come out for the weekend. I'll come out for a week. I'll come
out for a whole month if I don't have any photo shoots and it's not during the fall collections.”

“That's okay, Amber. And I don't think the weekend or even a week is what I'm looking for. I just want to know about tomorrow night.”

“Ha! There is no way I'm flying out so I can have dinner with a bunch of cheese-heads. Besides, I can't even stay overnight?”

“No.”

“And we can't slip off to a hotel?”

Funny how the thought no longer thrilled him. He looked across the yard to the Poplar house. Light on in the second-floor bedroom.

Heaven.

“Sorry, no.”

“Not even a little walk around the block? Assuming they have blocks in Deerhorn.”

“I have Karen with me,” he said. “We can't. I could have the mayor put you up in his house.”