by Louise Clark
She closed her eyes for a brief moment, her thoughts in turmoil.
“Hey,” Cody said, running his thumb across her lips. “Come back to me.”
She opened her eyes, even though she was afraid of what he’d say next.
“I suppose he’s got Mary Elizabeth pregnant.”
If Cody hadn’t been holding her chin with his fingertips, Faith knew she would have been standing there staring at him, her jaw hanging open. “Ummm, ahhhh…”
“It’s okay.” He lowered his head to brush a brief, teasing kiss over her lips. “He should go home and handle it, though. It’s not fair to Mary Elizabeth and he’s going to have to deal with her father when they’re married. He may as well start now.”
Faith breathed a mental sigh of relief. She could manage this. “I totally agree, but try convincing Andrew.”
Cody smiled that sexy half-smile again. “We’ve got a week to work on him. He’ll come round.”
This time when he kissed her, Faith molded her body to his, as seduced by Cody’s linking of himself to her family as by the taste and touch of him.
Do I want you, Cody Simpson, she thought? Oh yeah. In more ways than one.
Chapter 19
Andrew was up with the sun. The sound of his shower dragged Faith out of a deep sleep. She yawned and focused blearily on her bedside clock. Another hour before her alarm was due to go off. She groaned. Snuggling deeper under the covers she prepared to go back to sleep.
The shower stopped. The old house eased into its normal warm quiet.
Andrew began to sing. He had quite a good voice, a rich baritone, well-trained, with excellent projection. Faith listened lazily, half-asleep, half-awake. Part of her figured she wasn’t going to get back to sleep, so she ought to get up now. The other part was enjoying doing nothing except sing along to the song Andrew was belting out as he did whatever he was doing in the bathroom. She knew the words and the melody, of course, because the song was one of her favorites—a rock song originally recorded in the eighties, then re-recorded recently as part of a movie soundtrack. She thought Andrew’s version was even better than the original—
She sat bolt upright. Then scrambled out of bed and hit the floor running.
“Andrew!” She pounded on the bathroom door, breaking into the joyous sounds coming from the other side.
He opened the door, raising his brows as he took in the t-shirt that was all she used to sleep in. Under his gaze she blushed a little. The shirt was extra-long, but it still only reached mid-thigh. “What are you singing?”
He was holding a toothbrush, which he pointed at her. “A song from your computer. I do not know the name. Cody and I found it yesterday and played it. The singer has a limited range, but the melodic line is pleasant, although it does lack complexity.”
“You can’t sing the song, Andrew. You can’t know it. You can’t take it back with you. You have to forget it.”
Andrew listened politely. “I know. But while I am here I can sing what I want. I can wear what I want. I can learn what I want.” He waved the toothbrush. “Now, Madam, you have interrupted me in my ablutions. If you will excuse me?” He bowed his head and shoulders politely, then shut the door.
Faith stared at the door, slowly realizing that having Andrew in the twenty-first century for a protracted visit was not going to be restful.
They set off for NIT a half-an-hour earlier than Faith usually did, so of course the traffic patterns were all different. Faith had expected fewer cars. What she found was that there were more. As they waited in a left turn lane, watching the green turn to red for the second time, she decided this would be a good opportunity to let Andrew know what he could and he couldn’t do at NIT. “When we get to the office, Andrew, you have to remember to stay close to me.”
“Of course,” he said. He put his hands on the window beside him, inspecting the edges with his fingertips.
“People will wonder who you are.”
“A perfectly reasonable reaction.” He was jerking his fingers down now, rubbing them along the glass.
Faith frowned, but plowed on. “You’ll tell them you’re an intern.”
“We discussed this with Cody yesterday.” He’d given up on the glass and was running his index finger along the edge of the frame.
“Yeah, well, I’m just going over it again. We can’t have any slip-ups.” The light turned green again. Faith gunned it so she could stay close to the car in front and successfully get through the intersection before the light turned again.
Andrew thumped the glass in a gesture filled with impatience, then he reached down, grabbed the door handle and released the latch. The door beside him swung open as Faith accelerated into her turn.
She screamed. “What are you doing? SHUT THE DOOR!”
It was a good thing Andrew was wearing a seat belt, because he leaned precariously, half-in, half-out as he reached for the heavy door, which was now swinging madly. With a shout of triumph he caught the handle. Pulling against momentum and velocity, he dragged the door back to the car, then slammed it shut.
Faith’s heart was racing. Somehow she’d made the turn safely and was now on Massachusetts Avenue, the main artery she’d follow for most of her drive to NIT. She felt as if someone had just wadded her up and put her through the spin cycle of a washing machine. Andrew, on the other hand, appeared to be enjoying himself. His eyes gleamed and his whole body quivered in excitement.
“What on earth did you do that for?”
He rubbed his chin. “I wished to test the air temperature outside this vehicle. I also wished to listen to the sounds made by the others around us. When I could not find a way to lower the window beside me I decided to open the door instead.”
“You could have been killed,” Faith snapped.
“I would doubt that.” He tugged at the shoulder belt. “This harness you are required to wear is remarkably sturdy. I was in no danger.”
“Maybe you weren’t,” Faith muttered. Her voice rose. “But the cars around us were, because I was rattled enough that I could have driven into any one of them.”
“My deepest apologies,” Andrew said. He didn’t look apologetic, though. He looked energized. He looked like he was having fun.
Faith eased to a stop again as they reached another light. “Listen, Andrew, you’ve got to be careful. Ask me before you act. For instance, the window is run by the electrical system. It opens by flicking that switch on the side of your door.”
Andrew looked a little dubious, but he cautiously put his finger on the tiny lever and pushed. The window slid open with a mechanical hiss. Andrew’s expression slipped into delight.
After that the window went up and down with monotonous regularity until Faith could stand it no more. “Okay. You’ve done the window thing. Now, listen. We’re about fifteen minutes from NIT. When we get there I’ll show you around, figure out where I’m going to put you, introduce you to people. Then I’ll have to get to work and you’ll have to look busy. Understand?”
Andrew raised the window. He nodded. “What have you done with all of the trees? And the fields.”
“We cut the trees down and built houses and shops and office buildings on the fields. Andrew, are you listening to me?” The light changed. Traffic moved slowly forward.
He nodded. “I must appear busy.” He turned in his seat so he could look directly at her and leaned against the passenger door.
“Good,” Faith said, maneuvering through the intersection. On the other side was a long stretch without lights. Traffic began to move more quickly. “Now, about the computers. I know you’re supposed to be an expert, but—” She glanced over at him. And almost had a heart attack. “Andrew! You can’t do that!”
“Now what have I done?” he demanded indignantly, sitting up.
“You can’t lean against the door. It might fly open. You could get hurt.”
“It is latched quite securely.”
“You’re not supposed to lean against car doors. It
isn’t safe. Any kid knows that.”
“I am not a child,” Andrew said, on his dignity.
“I know,” Faith said, but she was coming to think that when it came to the twenty-first century, a five-year-old was better equipped to handle everyday life than Andrew was.
Andrew was a big hit in the bullpen. Not surprising, Faith reflected. Though not tall, his stocky body was roped with lean muscle toned not at the gym, but in everyday activity. He walked or rode a horse to reach a destination; he milked cows, chased chickens, and did God knows what else to his animals; though he had hired-help to manage his acreage, he walked behind a plow pulled by oxen to turn the earth in his fields, and he weeded a garden that was as large as the lot on which the average house was built. As long as Faith had known him, Andrew had been a man with a very fine physical presence. Dressed in the formal clothes of his own times, dripping with velvet, lace, and fine linen, he was imposing. Clad in the casual, form-fitting knits and tight denims of the twenty-first century he was second-look sexy and enough to make any sane woman salivate.
Which Angela and June, and all the others in the bullpen certainly did.
Andrew loved it, of course. He turned his old-fashioned charm on each of the women in turn and before long he had them laughing and giddy.
On Monday morning. At nine o’clock.
Faith towed him off to her office over the protests of her staff on the excuse that she had to go over his responsibilities with him.
The light was blinking on her phone, indicating she had one or more voicemail messages waiting. She unlocked her bottom drawer and dropped her purse inside. Andrew observed this with considerable interest.
“I have to work,” she said, relocking the drawer. “So I need you to make yourself appear busy for the next little while. Think you can do that?”
“Why,” he said, pointing to the desk, “do you feel a need to secure your belongings when you are in the privacy of your own study?”
“I always do,” Faith said, sitting down and not really paying attention to him. She picked up the phone and punched in the voicemail code.
Andrew ambled over to a filing cabinet. He tugged at one closed drawer. It was locked. “Do you not trust those who work for you? Even on matters that relate to the organization?”
Faith tucked the phone against her shoulder, made a note, deleted one voicemail, went on to the next. “What was that?”
Andrew shrugged and sent her a dismissive wave. Faith accepted it with a nod, deleted another voicemail and logged on to her computer while she listened to the next voicemail. Andrew wandered around the room, checking things out. He flipped through file folders, lifted hanging racks to see what was behind them, opened drawers where he could, pricked his finger on a message nail. The contents of Faith’s desk organizer—paper clips, elastics, ballpoint pens, highlighters, and tacks for her cork board—kept his attention all through Faith’s voicemails and even into a few of the e-mails that had accumulated since Friday.
She hadn’t quite finished her e-mails when her telephone rang. The call was from a client who wanted to discuss their latest billing so she took it. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Andrew was at the window, searching the edges of the glass the way he had in the car. She spared a moment to reflect with relief that he couldn’t open a door this time and almost fall out, then she focused on the problem at hand.
Faith’s window consisted of two six-foot square panes, framed by black metal. These didn’t open, but between them and the four-foot high walls that rose from the floor were two narrow rectangular windows that did. These were hinged to open outward with a gentle push and, like the non-functioning windows, they were framed in thin black aluminum.
A modern design, these windows were not the old-fashioned sash construction that moved up and down Andrew was used to. By the time Faith finished her conversation Andrew had found the handle that worked the window and thrust it open. As she put down the phone she took a good look at what he was doing.
He had his head stuck out the window and was in the process of pushing his shoulders out along with it.
“Andrew.”
Focused on the task at hand, he didn’t respond. Or that was what Faith told herself. Maybe he just didn’t want to hear another lecture on what he could not do.
The open window provided a narrow opening between the sill, the frame and the angled windowpane. There wasn’t a lot of room for a body to exit, particularly a muscular, big-boned one like Andrew’s. “Andrew. What are you doing? You’re going to get stuck.”
The door to Faith’s office opened.
For one panicked moment Faith thought Ava Taylor was about to come in. Her heart skipped a beat, then started again at a gallop. She wasn’t ready to face Ava. Andrew needed more coaching. Ava was never going to believe Andrew was an intern.
It wasn’t Ava who entered, though, it was Cody. He smiled when he saw her, that sexy half-smile that made her think of his lips on hers, his hands stroking her body, the press and promise of his hips against hers.
Andrew said cheerfully, “The window opens outward, not up the way it should.”
Cody ripped his gaze away from Faith’s. One look at Andrew hanging half-in, half-out of the window, doing his best to wriggle into a better position to view the workings of the hinges, had Cody closing the door behind him. He pointed to Andrew as he said to Faith, “What’s he doing?”
Faith looked over at Andrew. “He’s trying to figure out how the window works. I think.”
“Is he really?” Cody said, sounding approving. He went over to the window where he crouched down so he could look out at Andrew’s level. “What’s up?”
There wasn’t room for both of them to stick their head and shoulders out, particularly now as Andrew had managed to wriggle an arm out. “Do you see this?” Andrew said, reaching up to rub his finger along the top of the frame. “There is a hinge up here. It allows the window to open outward. Once the windowpane has been opened fully the hinge locks to become a brace to keep the pane from falling back against the frame.” He grunted. “I do believe for this mechanism to work properly it would have to be very strong.”
“I guess,” Cody said. “I’ve never thought about it.”
Andrew wriggled a bit more. “I certainly hope they are.”
There was an ominous sound to that statement. “Why?” Faith demanded.
Andrew hesitated, then he said, “Because I do believe I am stuck.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Faith said.
Cody rocked back on his heals. There was a suspicious twitch to his lips that suggested he was fighting the urge to laugh. He managed to keep a straight face as he stood up to assess the situation. “Andrew, you need to arch your back and roll your shoulders. Make yourself as small as possible, then inch back and forth. That should work. I’d hate to have to cut your t-shirt off you so we could grease you up to let you slide out.”
Andrew grunted. “I’m damned well not about to be disrobed by you, my friend!”
At that very moment the door opened again.
This time Faith’s worst expectation was fulfilled. Ava the Tyrant Lizard walked in.
And heard Andrew’s half-amused comment.
“Nor by anyone else, I should hope,” she said tartly.
Cody sighed. Horrified, Faith said, “Oh…ummm…ah…Hi Ava.”
“Who is this?” Ava demanded, joining Cody by the window.
“This is my—” Faith began.
Cody said, “This is Andrew. He’s a computer grad, here as my intern. He’s trying to make the decision to go for his masters or look for a full-time job. Andrew, this is Ava Taylor, the COO of NIT.”
“A pleasure dear lady,” said Andrew from the window. “If you will be patient for a few minutes I will introduce myself properly.”
Ava didn’t acknowledge this. She said curiously, “What are you doing?”
There was an ominous silence. Faith said, “There was a bird.”
&nbs
p; “A bird?” Ava raised her brows in a disbelieving way. Not surprising, since Faith’s windows displayed a panorama of asphalt parking lot with nothing green in sight. She looked pointedly at Cody.
Faith said in a rush, “Yes, a bird. It…ummm…flew into the window and got…stuck. Andrew was helping it escape.”
“I see,” said Ava, who looked as if she saw entirely too much. “What was your intern’s name again, Cody?”
The intern, still stuck in the window, was wiggling in a determined way and had begun to make some progress, but he wasn’t free yet.
“Andrew.”
Ava waited a heartbeat, and then another. Her brows rose. “And does Andrew have a last name by any chance?”
“Of course,” said Cody.
Faith realized Cody had no idea what Andrew’s last name was because she’d never used it. Why would she? Andrew was Andrew. Cody was covering his ignorance by staring at Ava as if she’d just asked the dumbest question in the world. Ava was glaring back, resisting the silent intimidation. In a second or two she’d probe deeper and in doing so make it obvious Cody didn’t really know Andrew well. That would blow Andrew’s cover and make Cody look like an idiot. Faith had to do something.
She kicked Andrew on the ankle, hoping Ava wouldn’t notice.
Andrew said loudly, “Ouch!” which tore Ava’s attention away from Cody for the moment.
“Are you okay?” Faith said. She leaned close to Andrew to say more quietly, “Tell Ava your last name. Quick!”
“When I am able too free myself of this insidious device,” Andrew said, his tone indignant, “I will introduce myself properly. However, until that time I will tell you, dear lady, that my surname is Byrne.”
Ava absorbed the somewhat flowery language. She observed Andrew with considerable interest. “And what is Andrew Byrne doing down here in Faith’s office supposedly rescuing birds in distress instead of being up in your office, Cody, working with you?”
Almost out of the window, Andrew stilled.
Cody leaned against the edge of Faith’s desk. He looked relaxed, but the muscles in his jaw had tightened and his mouth was a hard line. “He was here because I sent him down here. What is your point, Ava?”
