Third Time's the Bride! (6 page)

“Yes, I did. I was actually in the same class as Drew Gilpin Faust.”

At his blank look, she gave a small smile.

“The current—and first—female president of Harvard.”

He didn’t know much about Bryn Mawr aside from the fact that it was one of the Seven Sisters, the prestigious female counterparts to the formerly all-male Ivy League colleges. Ms. Davidson’s condescending little smile rubbed him the wrong way, however.

“You also spent some years in academia yourself,” he commented, his tone a shade cooler.

“Almost a decade. Unfortunately, it took me that long to admit the dismal failure of our secondary education system. Since then I’ve worked only with young children. I prefer to discipline their minds and shape their study habits before our public school system warps both.”

Brian couldn’t help contrasting her grim assessment with Tommy’s eagerness to dive headfirst into that same system.

“In that regard,” she continued, adjusting the drape of her cashmere scarf, “I’m fully qualified to homeschool your son. Not only is it a safer environment given today’s drug and violence infected society, but studies show that home-educated students typically score fifteen to thirty percentile points above public school students on standardized academic achievement tests.”

“I appreciate the benefits of homeschooling, but I believe acquiring social skills are as important as acing achievement tests.”

“I don’t disagree. That’s why I encourage participation in extracurricular activities like a youth orchestra or sports team. Within carefully selected parameters, of course.”

Parameters, Brian guessed, that would exclude the ethnically diverse environment he and Caroline had wanted their children to experience. Rising, he offered Ms. Davidson his hand.

“I appreciate you agreeing to fly up to Washington on such short notice. As I’m sure you’ll appreciate that I have several other candidates to interview. I’ll let you know my decision by the end of the week.”

Surprised, she got to her feet. “Don’t you want me to meet Thomas? Give you my assessment of how well we’d interact before you decide?”

“I don’t think that’s necessary. I’ll have Mrs. Jones call down for a car to take you back to your hotel.”

With the tact that made her worth her weight in gold, LauraBeth accompanied Ms. Davidson to the elevator and made sure she was on her way down to street level before she retrieved the next applicant from the elegant, wood-paneled visitors’ lounge.

Patricia Gallagher was younger, friendlier and every bit as qualified. She was also an easy conversationalist, with an up-to-date grasp of current world affairs. Brian was impressed until she raised the issue of medical insurance.

“I have basic health coverage,” she assured him, “but I would expect you to provide supplemental coverage for co-pays and prescription costs.”

“Yes, of course.”

It was a reasonable request. Brian had provided both basic and supplemental insurance for Lottie Wells and would continue to do so until she transitioned to Medicare in a few years. The fact that medical coverage seemed of particular concern to Ms. Gallagher raised a red flag, though.

“Tommy’s a very active child,” he told her, taking care not to cross the fine line between what an employer could and couldn’t ask a prospective employee. “You’ll need a lot of energy to keep up with him.”

“That won’t be a problem. I’m pretty active myself. But...well... I hope you’re not one of those parents who doesn’t believe in vaccinations. Your son’s had all his shots, hasn’t he?”

“I wouldn’t have bought him home from the kennel otherwise,” Brian assured her solemnly.

She laughed, then volunteered the reason behind her concern. “I’m healthy as a horse most of the time, but I do seem to be susceptible to viral infections. That’s why I had to terminate my previous position,” she explained with genuine regret. “The kids were great. I really loved them, but they could
never
remember to wash their hands or cover their mouths when they coughed. They were always catching colds or sore throats and bringing them home.”

Brian was tempted to assure her that Tommy remembered to cover his mouth. Most of the time. But he had serious reservations about exposing his son to someone apparently susceptible to viral infections. He brought the session to a smooth finish a few moments later with the same promise to get back to her by the end of the week.

“You got through those interviews quickly,” LauraBeth commented when the elevator doors swished shut.

The calm, petite Virginian had been with EAS for almost ten years. Long enough for Brian to appreciate the titanium core under LauraBeth’s layer of Southern charm. She and her husband, a career civil servant, had raised four sons. When the last left for college, she’d decided to go back to work. The first place she’d applied was EAS, and Caroline had hired her on the spot. The two women had quickly developed a rapport that went beyond work.

Caroline’s subsequent illness had devastated LauraBeth, but this small, slender woman with a heart ten times her size had held the front office together during those last, horrific months. Brian valued her friendship as much as he relied on her brisk efficiency.

“You read their files and have chatted with both candidates so far,” he said. “What did you think?”

LauraBeth didn’t hesitate. “Davidson is too full of herself. I was impressed with Gallagher, but her reason for leaving her last job seemed a little vague.”

“The kids caught colds.”

“
All
kids catch colds.”

“That was pretty much my reaction, too.”

“Interesting. Do you want to squeeze in another interview? Our third candidate just called to let me know he arrived early and is checked in at the hotel. I can see if he wants to meet with you this afternoon instead of in the morning.”

“Let’s leave it as scheduled. I’ll take care of some of that paperwork you stacked on my desk and make a few calls. Then I want to head home and get the scoop on Tommy’s first day.”

Laughter filled LauraBeth’s chocolate-brown eyes. “Dawn called while you were in with Ms. Gallagher to let me know both teacher and pupil survived. She gave me the highlights. I’d share them with you but I don’t want to steal Tommy’s thunder.” She paused a moment. “I like Dawn. Not many women would step in the way she did when Lottie had that accident, and in a foreign country yet.”

“You think anyplace outside Virginia is a foreign country.”

“Well, it is. But don’t change the subject. Tommy likes Dawn, too. Quite a bit, from what I gather.”

“I know.”

“If you’re going to break the bond,” LauraBeth advised gently, “you need to do it soon.”

“I know,” he said again. “I’m working on it.”

* * *

He drove home through a slowly deepening dusk. A favorite jazz playlist thrummed through the speakers, but Brian barely registered Thelonious Monk’s percussive attacks and abrupt, dramatic silences. His thoughts kept circling from the interviews he’d just conducted to LauraBeth’s warning about the two people waiting for him at home.

Or not waiting.

The security lights were spilling golden puddles on the front lawn as he pulled into the drive, but the house showed only dark windows. He entered the kitchen through the garage, surprised by its dim emptiness, and checked the kitchen counter for a note indicating where Dawn and Tommy might have gone. Frowning, he was about to search the rest of the house when he noticed that the door to the patio stood ajar, with only the screen door keeping out the insects that now buzzed through the crisp autumn night.

Brian’s breath razored through his lungs, but before the fear every parent lived with could break out of its cage, a squeal of pure joy pierced the silence, followed by a shout of enthusiastic praise.

“Good one, kiddo!”

“I know! Your turn.”

Shaky with relief, Brian dropped his briefcase and suit coat on the counter and moved to the windows overlooking the brick-walled backyard. It, too, was illuminated by strategically placed lanterns and spots. The artificial light caught Dawn in fluid motion as she tipped sideways, planted both palms on the grass and executed a perfect cartwheel.

Correction. An almost-perfect cartwheel. Her back remained arrow straight and her legs and arms formed an admirable X, but she blew the landing. She went down butt-first and lay there, laughing, while Tommy hooted and danced from foot to foot.

“I win, I win, I win.”

“Yeah, you do. But I want a rematch.”

“’Kay.”

“Not now. Your father should be home soon. We’d better get cleaned up and start thinking about dinner.”

“’Kay.”

Not until they’d turned toward the house did they notice the figure silhouetted against the kitchen windows.

“Dad’s already home!”

With another squeal of joy, Tommy raced across the yard and barreled through the screen door. Brian went down on one knee for a quick bear hug and a spate of breathless questions from his excited son.

“Didja see me, Dad? Didja? Dawn taught me how to do cartwheels ’n now I do ’em better than her.”

“I saw her do one. Or try to.”

“C’mon outside! I’ll show you a good one.”

When he darted back through the door, Brian followed and strolled over to join Dawn.

“This is a surprise. I came home expecting a detailed report on first grade and instead I get a gymnastics exhibition.”

“Don’t worry,” she drawled. “You’ll get both.”

“Watch me, Dad. Watch me!”

“I’m watching.”

“Tommy was totally hyped when I picked him up at school,” Dawn commented during the exuberant demonstration. “I now know the names of almost every kid in his class, the stories their teacher read to them, what they had for lunch and which of them can write their names fastest. His little friend Cindy took those honors, incidentally.”

“Good to know.”

“The only way I could turn off the spigot was to lure him out here for some fresh air and exercise.”

“Smart thinking.”

“Dad!”

“I see you, buddy.”

Absorbed in his son’s acrobatics, Brian still managed to remain acutely aware of the woman beside him. Her face was flushed from her exertions and her tumbled hair held an earthy scent of grass and sweat. Not as delicate as lemons and lotus blossoms, he discovered when he sneaked another whiff, but a whole lot more arousing.

Suddenly impatient, he couldn’t wait to hear his son’s report, then get him fed, bathed and in bed.

Chapter Six

E
mploying time-tested management principles, Brian combined tasks to accomplish them quickly and efficiently. He listened with genuine interest to Tommy’s detailed saga of his first day while he chopped lettuce. Still listening, he sprinkled parmesan on slices of buttered Italian bread and popped them in the oven while Dawn nuked frozen lasagna.

Tommy’s school saga continued through dinner. He took a brief hiatus for a video battle and resumed during bath time. Thankfully, his day’s activities and the spirited cartwheel session had depleted even his seemingly inexhaustible store of energy. He voiced an obligatory round of protests and petulant pleas to stay up longer, but zonked out almost before his head hit the pillow.

When Brian went back downstairs, he discovered that Dawn had achieved the same comatose state. She was slouched on the den sofa, feet up, head lolling against the gray suede cushions with the video controls about to slip through her fingers. Strike two, he thought ruefully. Looked as if he’d have to put his “whatever happens” hopes on ice for the second night in a row.

When he eased the controls out of her limp grasp, his conscience said he should nudge her awake and suggest they call it a night. The rest of him nixed the notion. Slowly, cautiously, he lowered himself onto the cushions. They shifted under his weight, tipping her toward him.

He snaked his arm across the sofa back while her head found a comfortable nest between his neck and shoulder. This was nice, he thought as he settled her closer. Cozy and comfortable.

Yeah, sure! Almost as cozy and comfortable as USMC boot camp.

Determined to keep a lid on his physical response to this woman, he tried to ignore the warm breath tickling his neck and the soft, full breast mashed against his upper arm. He edged away a few inches in an effort to put some space between himself and her pliant body, but only succeeded in eliciting a breathy sigh as she snuggled closer.

Jaw locked, Brian tried to kill the hunger pulsing through him with cold, hard logic. No way he could nudge Dawn down onto the cushions and bring her back to consciousness inch by delicious inch. Tommy might wake up, think of just one more thing he
had
to tell his dad and wander downstairs at precisely the wrong moment.

The stern lecture almost did the trick. Would have, if Dawn hadn’t mumbled something unintelligible and poked her nose into his neck like a burrowing groundhog. When some loose strands of hair trapped between her chin and his shoulder constricted her nuzzling, the mumble segued into an irritated grunt.

Gently, Brian freed the trapped strands. Soft and whispery, they played through his fingers, still giving off a faint whiff of grass and sweat. The earthy tang triggered something deep and primitive in him. Cursing under his breath, he shifted again in a vain attempt to ease the sudden tightening in his belly.

When that didn’t work, an insidious possibility wormed its way into his thoughts. The security system guarding the house and grounds was ultra high-tech. When Brain went to bed each evening, he entered a five-digit code that would sound an alert if someone or something tripped the sensors on the exterior doors and windows.

The system also included interior sensors. When set, these pressure detectors and infrared beams would detect movement in the downstairs rooms and on the stairs leading to the second floor. But Brian hadn’t activated the interior sensors in years. He’d turned them off for the first time during the long, sleepless nights following Caroline’s diagnosis, when he’d slipped out of bed and come downstairs to vent his anger and despair in solitude.

Then, when Tommy started sleepwalking a few years ago, Brian shut down the interior system again. The doctors assured him that somnambulism was a common childhood occurrence, typically manifesting itself between the ages of four and eight and often resulting from separation anxiety. Whatever had caused it, Brian wasn’t about to risk jerking his son awake with a shrieking alarm.

Except...maybe...in certain life-and-death circumstances...

His gaze lingered on Dawn’s face, taking in the blue-veined eyelids, the kiss-me-if-you-dare mouth, the wayward copper tendrils tickling her ears. All he had to do was slip his arm out from under her head and make for the master alarm panel in the kitchen. He could activate the pressure sensors on the staircase in ten seconds max, then bring Dawn awake slowly, sensually and...

Dammit!

What was he thinking?

True, nothing in his personal code of conduct demanded that he dedicate himself to Caroline’s memory and remain celibate for the rest of his life. Also true, he’d reluctantly reentered the dating pool in recent years. His two brief liaisons had satisfied a physical need. If they’d also left him empty emotionally, he figured that was his problem.

Yet here he was, ready to toss every parenting principle out the window and set an alarm that would scare the crap out of his son if he tripped it. All so Tommy’s horny dad could get naked with this auburn-haired siren. On the den sofa, for God’s sake!

Thoroughly disgusted, Brian battled his raging testosterone into submission and eased off the sofa. Dawn sniffled, muttered and tipped sideways onto the cushions. Without so much as a flicker of an eyelash, she curled onto the cushions like a contented cat.

Resigned to another uncomfortable night, Brian dug a fuzzy
Pirates of the Caribbean
throw out of a hassock and draped it over her. He was still swinging between rampant need and wry regret when he turned down the lights and went up the unsensored, unalarmed stairs.

* * *

He came back down the next morning, showered, shaved and dressed for work. A ridiculous disappointment knifed through him when he found the den empty of all occupants and the fuzzy throw neatly folded on the suede cushions. He gave the sofa a nasty glance and followed the scent of fresh-brewed coffee to the kitchen.

Dawn sat perched on a stool at the counter. She was fresh faced and bright-eyed and swinging a foot idly as she checked emails on her iPhone. In jeans and chunky-knit sweater, with her hair caught up in a loose ponytail, she looked closer to Addy Caruthers’s age than Brian’s. The thought didn’t particularly sit well.

Glancing up, she greeted him with a rueful grin. “Mornin’. Sorry I passed out on you last night. I guess the backyard acrobatics pooped me as much they did Tommy.”

“No problem.”

Now
, Brian added with a mental grunt. It’d presented a helluva problem last night, when he’d contemplated a wide range of lascivious inducements designed to bring her back to full consciousness.

“Did you spend the entire night on the sofa?” he asked gruffly.

“Pretty much. Thanks for tucking me in, by the way.”

The wicked glint in her eyes told him she had a good idea how much that misplaced act of gallantry had cost him.

“Good thing you don’t activate the interior alarms,” she commented. “I would’ve set them all off when I rolled off the couch at oh-dark-thirty and stumbled back to the gatehouse half asleep.”

Brian poured himself some coffee, not about to admit how close he’d come to penning his son in his upstairs bedroom with an electronic fence. When he turned back, the mug steaming in his hand, he found Dawn studying him with her head cocked a little to one side.

“Why
don’t
you activate them?” she wanted to know. “Don’t you trust me with the codes?”

That cut too close to the bone. “Don’t be stupid,” he replied more curtly than he’d intended. “I trust you with my son. Why wouldn’t I trust you with the alarm codes?”

“Whoa!” Her foot stilled its lazy swing, and those green cat’s eyes narrowed. “Someone obviously got up on the wrong side of his temper this morning.”

Make that the wrong side of the sofa
, Brian thought sourly. He couldn’t decide whether he was more irritated by the fact he’d spent most of the night kicking himself for not making wild, animal love to this woman or the fact that she looked so damned perky and unfazed by the near miss.

“Tommy’s still asleep,” he informed her with only a shade less than hostility. “You need to haul his butt out of bed by seven so you can get him to school by eight thirty.”

“Yes, sir!”

Popping to attention on her high-backed stool, she snapped a salute. With the wrong hand, the marine in Brian noted acidly. Somehow that only added to his disgruntled mood. That and the realization that he was scheduled to interview four more candidates for a permanent nanny today.

“I should be home by six,” he told her. “Let’s plan on discussing future arrangements this evening.”

“Yes, sir!”

The salute was mocking now, the green eyes stormy. Brian carried both with him out the door.

* * *

A traffic snarl a mile short of the beltway exit for EAS headquarters didn’t improve his mood. Nor did the back-to-back appointments crammed into his schedule for the day.

He got through a meeting with the sub providing transistors for a proposed new satellite-based guidance system without losing his cool over the litany of excuses for the company’s delays.

He also conducted a midmorning interview with the next candidate on the list. Brian should have been impressed by the bearded, muscled-up grad student’s BA from Princeton. Also the fact that he was two years into the dissertation for his PhD in medieval French history. Instead he made the same promise to get back to him by the end of the week that he’d made to the first two candidates.

After that he sat through an excruciating session with his VP of Finance and Accounting. Brian’s background was operations. Gut-twisting, hands-on, shoot-that-mother-out-of-the-sky operations. First as a USMC helo pilot, then as a major contributor to the Department of Defense’s war-fighting arsenal. As Brian listened to his brilliant but long-winded Finance VP drone on, he battled an uncharacteristic urge to send the man back to his cave to rework every damned chart so they were intelligible to mere mortals.

He controlled the impulse, but couldn’t hide his unsettled mood from LauraBeth. She’d worked with him for too long and knew his moods too well to miss his edginess. Head cocked, she studied him for several moments after depositing a neat stack of contracts in his inbox.

“You seem distracted today,” she commented in her magnolia-soft Virginia drawl. “I noticed it when you first came in this morning. Everything okay at home?”

“Yes. No.”

Her delicately penciled brows arced. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Wrong answer. Speak to me.”

Shoving away from his desk, Brian rose and stared out the floor-to-ceiling windows at Bethesda’s high-rise jungle for several seconds before turning to face the woman who’d been as much a friend as a coworker to both him and Caroline.

“What would you say if I canceled the rest of the interviews and told you I’m thinking of asking Dawn to stay on permanently?”

“I’d say that was a smart move. Depending, of course, on what you mean by ‘permanently.’”

“I haven’t exactly worked that out yet.”

“Oh, for...!”

She muttered something under her breath that made Brian’s jaw drop. He couldn’t believe the woman had just tossed out an expletive he might’ve heard from a marine on a three-day drunk in the stews of Okinawa.

“I’ve liked Dawn McGill more with every conversation we’ve had,” LauraBeth announced. “She’s not bad for a Yankee. Not bad at all.”

Brian was still reeling from that unbridled endorsement when she came out with another.

“And if she’s anywhere near as foxy as Dominic says she is, you’ll start thinking of her as more than a caretaker for Tommy. Oh, don’t look so shocked,” she added impatiently. “I’ve seen the women you’ve hooked up with the past few years. I had to reserve the suite at the Ritz for you and that ditzy Realtor, remember?”

“LauraBeth...”

“I also sent two dozen long-stemmed roses when you decided to call it off with that bassoonist with the National Symphony. I
told
you there was a reason she was only third chair.”

Brian had to fight to keep his face straight. The slender, frighteningly intense bassoonist did, in fact, play third chair. But after forcing notes through a double reed for so many years she’d developed a helluva embouchure. The woman could do things with her tongue and lips that...

His assistant’s impatient voice drowned out memories of the musician’s unexpected talents. “If Dawn is half the woman I think she is, you’ll sign her to a binding contract.”

On that stern note, the diminutive LauraBeth spun on her heel and marched out. Brian almost stopped her at the door to tell her he’d thought about doing exactly what she’d just suggested. Thought long and hard, as a matter of fact. Particularly these past few nights, when Dawn’s taste and feel and scent had kept him awake and hurting.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he turned back to the windows and stared unseeing through the tinted glass. Was he too close to the situation? Thrown off his stride by the hunger Dawn stirred in him. Maybe he should step back, reconsider this matter of offering her a long-term contract, apply the same cool logic he usually brought to any problem.

The cons were obvious. Despite the background check he’d run on the woman, he’d known her for what? Three weeks now? She could’ve buried something so deep in her past that a cursory check wouldn’t turn it up.

And what about those two broken engagements? Travis hadn’t gone into gory detail, but he had let it drop that she’d bolted at the very last moment. What said she wouldn’t bolt again? Brian didn’t want Tommy hurt by a woman who might suddenly decide she wasn’t cut out for motherhood.

The same went for Brian himself. Everything in him cringed at the idea of leaving himself open to even a shadow of the agony he’d gone through when Caroline died.

But... Jaw set, he added up the pluses. First and foremost, Tommy adored her. She seemed to feel the same about him. And her sparkling eyes and infectious good humor had gone a long way in chasing the shadows from a house that hadn’t heard a woman’s laugh in too long.