by Lori Wilde
Then two shelves down...balloons.
Ah, hell. Glancing up, he caught Casey looking his direction. She’d watched him blow up all these balloons and make an idiot of himself in front of the seniors. He should be mad. Furious, in fact.
But he wasn’t. Instead, he found himself half admiring her. Okay, the lady was quickly becoming a personal pain in the butt to him. Still, he’d been at the center for what? Less than an hour. And the woman had already bested him. Twice.
The next couple of weeks should prove very interesting.
“You have to watch the women around here,” Al pointed out. “They’re sharp, so you have to be sharper.”
With those words, the older man patted Michael’s shoulder then wandered over to the table where Casey was lighting candles on a cake. When he finished knotting the last balloon, he settled back to watch the celebration.
All the seniors were having a great time. Casey was having a great time, too. Michael watched, fascinated, as she kidded around with the group. She really fit in here, but he couldn’t help wondering why she wasn’t working at a big company, making big bucks.
“Having fun?” Casey asked when she finally wandered over in his direction.
“I enjoyed blowing up all those balloons. Thanks.”
Casey laughed. It was a teasing, light sound that ran across his skin like a touch. “Sorry. But I didn’t tell you to do it. We used those balloons at our booth at the children’s fair last September. I never thought you’d dig them out, but they do add a festive air. Now, why don’t you stop sulking and come mingle? No one’s going to bite you.”
“I’m not afraid,” Michael said slowly, but the truth was, he’d never been too comfortable around older people. Nathan knew that, which was no doubt why he’d been assigned to the Honey Senior Citizen Center.
But rather than explain that to Casey, Michael changed the subject. “So you have birthday parties for everyone, do you?”
“Yes. It’s vital to mark the major moments in the lives of those you care about.”
Michael sensed there was more to what she was saying, but before he could press her on it, a loud squawking noise silenced the room. Every head turned toward him. Michael groaned and fished his phone out of his pocket.
Glancing at it, he saw that Glenda was calling. When he looked up at Casey, her frown told him how she felt about the interruption.
“I thought your phone didn’t work,” she said.
He sighed. “It still rings, but I can’t answer the calls or make calls. So, may I please use your phone one more time?”
Casey smiled at the group of seniors watching them. “Nothing serious. Michael’s got a hectic job,” she told them. When the seniors resumed talking, she stepped forward until she stood directly in front of him. Then she said in a whisper, “Make your call. But next time you come here, please don’t spend all your time on the phone, neither on the center’s phone or your cell phone.”
“Look, I’m not trying to—”
“You should respect the seniors enough to give them your complete attention while you’re here. But you corporate jocks just don’t get it, do you? You can’t let go of your job for even a couple of hours.”
Ouch. Where’d that come from? “I take it you don’t like businessmen,” he said.
She fixed him with a narrowed gaze. “I believe there’s more to life than work.”
He’d heard that song before, from a father who couldn’t bring himself to show up for a job on a regular basis. But he knew Casey wasn’t talking about goofing off to avoid work. No, she was smack-dab in the middle of her own personal anti-business agenda, and he needed to tread carefully here.
He scanned the amused faces assembled around the collection of tables. Everyone in the room was watching him. Now he knew how a butterfly stuck on a pin felt.
When he returned his gaze to Casey, he said, “Sorry.” And he was. He didn’t mean to give her flak, and he didn’t mean to be disrespectful to the seniors. But this was a strange new world he’d entered, and adjusting would take some time.
Casey was silent for several long moments. Finally, she waved toward her office. “Go make your call. And after that, you might as well stay in there and make those calls for donations, too.”
Deciding to leave well enough alone, Michael nodded and headed toward the office. This was hard. He wasn’t used to feeling uncertain, but he sure did around Casey and the seniors. His gut instinct told him the next couple of weeks were going to be bumpy.
An hour later, Casey was still annoyed. She glanced toward her office repeatedly and watched Michael as he talked on the phone.
Wanting to postpone her talk with him, she headed toward the kitchen to count the hot lunches that had just been delivered. When the number was wrong the first time, she hoped she’d made a mistake.
But when she got the same total once more, she was ready to chew out the delivery service. This couldn’t have happened again. They were two lunches short.
She ran her hand through her hair. “Shoot.”
The county supplied hot lunches to the center each day as long as she told them twenty-four hours ahead of time how many lunches she needed. The last couple of weeks, the number had been off more often than not.
Sheesh. How hard was it to count to twenty-seven? Heck, yesterday she’d deliberately phoned and faxed in the order to avoid any errors.
Yet, still it was wrong. Didn’t the county understand that for many of the seniors, this hot lunch was the main meal of the day? How could they just flub the number?
Her head felt as if little imps were playing bongos on her brain. Idly, she rubbed her temples and looked for a place to sit. Her choices were limited.
The kitchen was ground zero, the worst area in the center. The counters were bowed; the linoleum was frayed, and two of the cabinets no longer opened. Boy, did the center need a new home. A bright modern home with up-to-date facilities.
And a breathtaking view. Okay, so that wasn’t absolutely necessary, but once she’d seen the old Victorian on the lake, she couldn’t think of moving the center any place else.
The seniors could sit and watch the sailboats, enjoy the cool breezes of spring, and wander the manicured trails around the lake. Even the city council had agreed it made the perfect location, far better than anything else anyone had found.
Except even with the family who owned it cutting the cost, the price was too high. The council would pay the three hundred thousand for the house if she came up with fifty thousand for modifications. Her share might as well have been a million.
Casey moved over to the door and looked across the main room to her office. She couldn’t see Michael Parker, but she knew he was there. Working—probably doing his own work rather than making calls for the center. Objectively, he was exactly what she needed. He was a high-profile executive who could pull in large contributions and plenty of volunteers. Someone used to running big projects could come in very handy.
But she hated the fact that she needed him. Images of her work-obsessed parents filtered through her mind. The missed birthday parties. The forgotten school plays. The never-ending stream of excuses. Until one day her folks just stopped explaining. Or caring.
She glanced again at her office. Did Michael Parker care about anything? Would he help them even if he could?
Or was he like her parents, just another workaholic who had lost interest a long time ago?
“Why are you hiding in here?”
Michael glanced up. Two elderly women stood in the office doorway, giving him what could only be described as the once-over. He straightened in his chair.
“I’m not hiding. I’m raising money for the building.” Some long-forgotten tidbit of protocol nudged at his brain, and he rose.
He never stood when a woman entered a room. If he did, he’d spend most of his days on his feet. Well over half of the employees he dealt with were women. But, admittedly, not women like the two standing just within the doorway. These wom
en weren’t associates and were making him feel as uncomfortable as an antelope walking by a bunch of lions.
“See, I told you he wasn’t hiding.” The woman on the left took a couple of steps forward. “I’m Elmira Ross, and this is Dottie Stevenson.”
Neither woman made a move to shake his hand, so Michael stuffed his fists in his pockets.
“It’s nice to meet you.” He shot a glance back at the phone. Since Casey had left him here, he’d managed to scrounge up another four hundred in donations. Unfortunately, the donations had come from two coworkers at his previous job, who would probably reciprocate by making him buy from their children’s school fundraisers for the next twenty years.
He didn’t say anything else, mostly because he had no idea what to say. He didn’t want to offend the women because they seemed nice.
Still, he couldn’t help hoping they would take the hint and leave him alone. Truthfully, they made him jumpy. Funny how he could speak to a convention center filled with employees but was struck mute by two elderly women.
How ironic.
But rather than leave, Dottie moved over next to Elmira.
“Why don’t you come out and meet some of the folks? Everyone is interested in you,” Dottie said.
Michael’s gaze darted beyond the women to the main room outside the office. After the party had ended, the tables had been shifted back into place. Now about twenty older people sat in small groups. Some were playing cards. Others were knitting. Everyone seemed busy, and no one seemed the least bit interested in him.
Except for the two ladies standing in front of him now.
“I...promised Casey I’d make some phone calls.” He reached for the phone, praying the women would finally leave. But they didn’t. They stood firmly rooted and continued to study him with open curiosity.
“So, what does your wife think about you working here?”
This question came from Dottie, who immediately received a nudge and a stern look from Elmira.
“You don’t have to answer that,” Elmira said. “Dottie’s nosy.”
“Oh, and you’re not interested?” Dottie asked her friend. Before Elmira could answer, Dottie turned and smiled at him. “A handsome man like you has to be married.”
An unexpected smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Dottie was buttering him up like a Thanksgiving turkey.
“I’m not married.” He lifted the receiver, but still, neither woman moved.
“Really? Not married.” Elmira exchanged a look with Dottie that Michael didn’t even want to begin to interpret. “Casey isn’t married, either.”
Her comment surprised him so much he had to struggle to keep his jaw from dropping. These women were here to matchmake?
They didn’t know a thing about him except he wasn’t married, and yet they thought that information was sufficient to toss him in Casey’s direction. He scanned the main room, looking for the subject of this discussion. He’d bet his stock options Casey didn’t know these two ladies were in here trying to fix her up.
Suddenly curious about the red-haired director, he replaced the receiver, then leaned against the desk and smiled at the women.
This information river flowed two ways. Maybe he could find out what made Casey Richards tick. In his experience, negotiations were easier if you understood your adversary. If he knew what mattered most to Casey, then he’d know what kind of bargain he could strike.
“Casey seems nice,” he said, watching the women closely to see what reaction he got. As expected, their faces brightened, and they moved forward, eager to share information.
“Casey’s a doll,” Dottie offered. “Simply a doll.” Her smile faded a tiny bit. “But don’t get on her bad side. She’s no fool, and she doesn’t take kindly to people who play games with her.”
“That’s right. Never mess around with our Casey,” Elmira added. “She deserves only the best.” Elmira shifted even closer, a fairly predatory look on her face. “Now, tell us all about you.”
Michael tensed. Good Lord. What had he gotten himself into?
Michael finally finagled his way out of the office and the inquisition Dottie and Elmira were conducting by claiming he’d promised to help Casey.
In a way, his excuse was true, especially since the women had warned him about getting on Casey’s bad side. Life had taught him not to make an enemy out of a potential ally. He felt compelled to smooth things over with Casey before he created more hard feelings.
He found her in the kitchen, stacking covered plates and muttering to herself. Unable to resist, he leaned against the doorjamb and watched her work.
Casey Richards might be the thorn in his paw for the next few weeks, but she was also one heck of a sight, especially her long hair. It cascaded like a waterfall down her back, swaying with her movements.
From nowhere, a crazy desire hit him. He wanted to walk over to her, slide his arms around her trim waist, and bury his face in her glorious hair. He could easily see it in his mind. She’d lean back against him, sighing. Then she’d turn and—
He must have made a noise because, startled, Casey jumped and turned to face him. “Holy—”
Michael blinked, torn out of his fantasy. “You’d better not be about to curse,” he said, smiling at her. She looked flushed and flustered. Her eyes widened with surprise at first but narrowed after she considered his comment.
“I was about to say ‘holy cow.’”
He nodded, watching her closely. What was it about this social worker that drove his libido crazy? Normally, he wouldn’t give a woman like Casey a second look. She wasn’t even remotely his type.
But maybe that was the problem. He’d been working so much he hadn’t dated in a while. Rather than having daydreams about this woman, he needed to call one of his regular dates. Jenny was always fun. Or maybe Denise.
Anyone but the redhead in front of him.
“So, did you finish all your calls?” she asked, turning slightly.
She was no less attractive in profile, he decided.
“I made a few. I got you another four hundred.”
Casey stopped in mid-motion, turned her head, and rewarded him with a tiny smile. Or maybe it wasn’t a smile. Her lips lifted a fraction of an inch. But at least it wasn’t a frown.
“That’s nice. I appreciate it,” she said.
He nodded absently as she turned back to her task. The lady didn’t like him. Not one bit. And here he’d taken the plunge and navigated his way across the main room just to speak to her.
He cleared his throat. “It was no problem.”
She pushed her hair away from her forehead, then turned to face him, wearing a distracted expression. “I’m sorry. What were you saying?”
“What’s wrong with those plates?”
“We’re two lunches short,” she said. “I don’t know how this keeps happening, but it does.”
He glanced over his shoulder at the seniors in the main room, then back over at Casey.
“So just have whoever brings these things, bring some more.”
“They won’t come back today,” Casey said. “These meals have to be ordered twenty-four hours in advance. I’ll have to whip something up. Unfortunately, we don’t keep much food here, but whatever I come up with is better than asking two people to forego their hot lunch.”
Now she was in his territory. Problem-solving was his life’s blood. He grinned, oddly pleased he could help.
“Hold on a second,” he said. “What are the rest of the people having?”
She regarded him with open suspicion, but she answered anyway. “Meatloaf, mashed potatoes, green beans, and pudding.”
“If I can use your phone again, I can solve this.” She moved toward him, her hands on her hips. “How?”
“I’ll just call the cafeteria at Barret Software and tell them to send over some extra lunches.”
“And they’ll do it?” Casey asked.
“Sure.”
“Great! Then do it, and after tha
t, I guess your two hours today are done. Tomorrow, I’d like you to help with some repairs around the center.” She hesitated a moment, then said, “Thanks.”
With that, she brushed by him and headed out of the kitchen. But Michael had caught her expression before she’d walked away. She was surprised by his offer. Apparently, she hadn’t expected him to help.
Feeling inordinately pleased with himself, Michael headed across the room to use Casey’s phone. The woman mystified him. No doubt about it, she liked to be a helper. She probably wanted to have her hands in making the world better. Most people just wrote a check, but not her.
Was that why she was here? It had to be, because without even trying, she could be a big success working for a company like Barrett Software. She projected a great image, managed resources well, and obviously knew how to hold her own in an argument.
Something she’d said finally hit him. Tomorrow she wanted him to do repairs around the center. Him? Repairs? Yeah, that wasn’t going to work.
He glanced around but didn’t see Casey. Well, he didn’t have time to discuss this with her right now, but tomorrow he’d set her straight. There was no way he could do repairs. He was mechanically challenged. Hopelessly inept at things like that.
No way was he doing repairs.
No way.
4
If today wasn’t the worst day of her life, it ranked right up there in the top five. Sure, there had been prom night when she’d turned out to be allergic to her corsage and spent most of the night with her nose running like Niagara Falls.
And yeah, she had spoken at a city council meeting and found out later her slip was showing. But today was still pretty bad. Her feet ached; her head hurt, and she wanted Michael Parker out of her life.
Groaning, she trudged up the stairs to her small apartment, her groceries in imminent danger of tumbling out of the overstuffed bag. With effort, she shoved open the door to her apartment and headed to the kitchen.
