Finally, she said, “Why is this move so urgent, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“I can remain at the Willard in a four-or five-hundred-dollar-a-day suite as long as I can pay for it. But the State Department won’t pay for my accommodations at the hotel beyond the next ten days. Now that my personal belongings are here, I have decided to move to Washington to be closer to my office and to avoid the daily commute. The department located three condos that matched my housing criteria, and I chose one of them this morning. Before I can move in, though, I have to buy it. And before I can buy it, I have to sell the one I have. I have ten days in which to do all that and move. Do you think it would be wise for me to spend this weekend with you with all I have to do?”
“No, it wouldn’t. But wouldn’t you expect me to be disappointed? Besides, I’m not sure I’ll be free two weeks from now.”
He bristled at her response. “Denise, this is not something that you can change whenever you want to. I want you, and you want me. And, unless Providence itself decides otherwise, we will be with each other. So let’s not kid ourselves. You’ve been in my head since you strolled into Judson’s barbecue. Denise, when the woman I want wants me, we’re going to be together. So what’ll it be?”
“I’ll let you know.”
“Don’t wait too long.”
“You don’t believe in love?” she asked in a tone that had a bite to it.
“I definitely do. Once I get a chance to nurture it…that is. Have you ever seen a seedling pop out of the ground in full flower? Give it water, and it will grow. But if you want it to bloom, you have to give it tender, loving care. I’d be great at that with you, Denise. I’ll take you places you’ve never been and didn’t know existed. I’ll play music for you that no one else has ever heard. I’ll carry you to heaven every time you’re in my arms. You’ll bloom, sweetheart. And what a beautiful, magnificent flower you’ll be.”
“Scott, you’re practically making love to me on the phone. I’d better say goodbye.”
“This is nothing compared to what you’ll feel, what we could have together. You said you’d let me know, so it’s your call.”
He said goodbye and hung up. She was going to have to stop dillydallying and make up her mind once and for all, or he’d find his future elsewhere.
Denise hung up. Her feelings ranged from being outraged to being sexually aroused by his certainty that he’d have her. She walked to the window and gazed down at the babbling brook in the hope of settling her nerves. But perspiration trickled down the side of her face. She walked back to her desk, picked up a sheet of paper and began fanning herself. If screaming would have helped she would have. By the time the telephone rang, her calm had been restored.
“Hello. Denise Miller speaking.”
“Where’ve you been, darling? I’ve been calling you for days,” Congresswoman Katherine Miller, from Waverly, Texas, said to her daughter.
“I spent the weekend with Pamela and Drake.”
“I hope Drake invited some male friends.”
“The Harrington brothers just finished building a series of buildings and a mall. The weekend was to celebrate that.”
“Hmm. Your dad’s after me to throw some big parties so you can meet some of the younger congressmen. I told him that the smart ones were married, and the rest aren’t worth spit. This town probably has more pretenders per capita than there are potatoes in Ireland. Besides, this place is woman-rich and man-poor. I don’t know why you decided to settle here.”
“I’m a philanthropist, Mom, a fundraiser for worthy causes, so that means living in Washington or New York, and I’d go nuts looking at all those New York skyscrapers every day of my life.” She was president of Second Chance Foundation, a charity devoted to helping immigrant children.
“But there aren’t any eligible men in Washington. Everybody knows that.”
“So they say. When are you going home, Mom? I want to send Dad some gingerbread.”
“This weekend. I’ll drop by late Thursday afternoon and pick it up.”
“Thanks. Priscilla will be off, but I’ll fix supper.”
“Great. I don’t know how you learned to cook so well. I certainly didn’t teach you.”
Denise laughed at the thought. “No, Mom, you sure didn’t. You and the kitchen are barely acquainted. See you Thursday.”
She hung up, wondering what her parents would think of Scott, who to her mind should be the answer to any parent’s prayers. She went back to her desk and finished polishing an article about indigence among immigrant children in urban areas. She read it over, and satisfied that it was one of her best efforts, she emailed it to her editor.
Images of Scott and her writhing in ecstasy pushed aside all other thoughts until, exasperated, she telephoned Pamela. “I’m going nuts. Talk to me.”
“Denise, you’re speaking to the wrong person. You should be talking to Scott. You’ve got an itch, and he’s the one to scratch it, not me. As much as I love you, I’d like to wallop you for being so foolish about that man. You care a lot for him and you want him. It’s mutual. What are you looking for in a man, a player who bangs every woman he sees and doesn’t think about the havoc he leaves behind? Wake up.”
Pamela had hit close to home. Her words were like a stab in the chest. “I don’t know why I called you. He told me that it’s my move, and that sounds like an ultimatum to me.”
“Maybe it is, but I’m sure you brought it on yourself. What are you going to do when he looks at another woman the way he once looked at you?”
“I guess that says it. Give Drake and Heather my regards.”
“Get your act together.”
“I thought I was doing that when I called you. Guess I have to work harder. Love ya. Bye.” After hanging up, she went to her desk and marked her calendar. I am not going to give up without knowing what it is to come alive in Scott Galloway’s arms, and that means sucking it up and calling him.
Chapter 4
“Are you going to the fundraiser for Haiti?” Judson asked Scott, when they spoke by phone a couple of days later.
“I forgot about that. The real-estate agent told me a few minutes ago that she has two buyers for my condo. That means I’ll be able to move in a few days. I’m not sure I have time to—”
“Slow down, man. You pushed for this fundraiser. You can spare one evening, can’t you?”
“I guess so. I still can’t get used to the fact that the State Department takes care of everything.”
“So you’re going. Are you bringing Denise?” Judson asked.
“She is making up her mind about us. I told her that she can call me when she decides what she wants. Funny thing is, I thought we had an understanding. In fact, we did. But with the move and selling my condo in Baltimore, I had to change plans, and she said she wasn’t sure about us.”
“Sounds to me like she’s a bit wounded. I’d proceed with care.”
“My sentiments precisely,” Scott said. Chills swirled around the back of his neck.
Of course he wanted to take Denise to the fundraiser. What man wanted to go to a black-tie affair alone, while everyone else was there with a beautiful woman on their arm? Of course, none of them outshone Denise, even with little effort on her part. But damn it, why was she taking so long to make up her mind? He could ask an old flame to go with him, but he wasn’t willing to deal with the consequences. Just then his phone rang. The name that appeared on the caller ID was Matt, the older—by a few minutes—of his younger twin brothers.
“Hi, Matt. What’s up?”
“I hate to impose on you, Scott, but I need a favor. A girlfriend, whom I am not serious about, but whom I like, will be here Saturday en route to Costa Rica for her job. I have to be in Canada, but I’d promised to show her around. Can you help me out? She’s good-looking, very fashionable and has a sharp mind. What do you say?”
“Good-looking, fashionable, a sharp mind, and you’re not interested? Come on, man! Tell me some more jokes
.”
“At first I was interested, but then I decided I didn’t want to go there. Personality clash, you know something like that.”
“Yeah? Think she’d like to go to a fundraiser with me? It’s formal.”
“That’s where she’s in her element. I’ll tell her to come prepared. She’ll be staying at the Sheraton. Her name’s Lynn Braxden.”
“Okay. I’ll be there at seven. We’ll have dinner at the fundraiser. Hmm. I’d better call her first and put her at ease.”
“Thanks, Scott. I’m proud to have you as a big brother.”
“Cut it out, Matt. You’re as full of it as ever. When’s Doug coming back?”
“He’ll be back in a few months, or so he says. Dad said that having twin sons was easier because he only had to contact one of us to know how both of us were getting along. Seems to me that you also subscribe to that notion.”
“Makes sense. When he sneezes, you always manage to know it. I wish you luck in Canada, and I’ll take good care of Ms. Braxden.”
“Thanks. I owe you one. So long.”
Hmm. Good-looking, fashionable and smart, huh? He loved his brothers. Matt and Doug were five years his junior, but accommodating his brother could get him into serious trouble. “Oh, what the hell,” he said aloud. “If Denise wasn’t busy making up her mind, I could have told Matt that I had a date for Saturday. Let the chips fall where they may.”
When he returned to the Willard after work that day, he sent his pleated dress shirt to the laundry, phoned in a reservation for a table for two at the fundraiser, got into his new blue Mercedes and headed for Baltimore. In less than an hour, he’d packed his personal belongings and valuables. Then he phoned his grandmother.
“Hello, Nana,” he said after she answered. “I’m in Baltimore for a few hours, and I’d like to have dinner with my favorite girl.”
“Oh, you,” Irma Galloway said with a note of amusement in her voice. “What time do you want to eat? If I’d known you’d be here, you know I’d have made dinner for you.”
“I’ll be over there at six-thirty.”
On his way over he saw bunches of cream-and orange-colored gazanias through the window of a florist shop as he waited for a red light. He pulled over, parked and bought a bouquet for his grandmother.
When he arrived, she opened the door instantly just as he was about to ring the doorbell. He hugged her and handed her the flowers. “Were you looking out of the window?”
“Oh, these are beautiful. Thank you so much.” She looked up at him with adoring eyes. “You said six-thirty, and I know how you are about being on time. You look great. Why aren’t you having dinner with a nice girl?” She put the flowers in a vase and placed them on the table.
The two of them walked out of the house. Scott closed the door behind him and locked it, handed her the keys, took her arm and started down the steps toward his car. “You can answer that now or later,” she said, “because you know I’m gonna ask you again.”
“Yes, Nana, I know that.” He helped her into the car and walked around to the driver’s side and got in. “I’m not having dinner with her tonight because she’s busy deciding my future.” As soon as he made the joke, he wished he’d left it unsaid, because his nana maintained that every joke carried a thread of truth.
“I thought you always boasted that you were the master of your fate. Doesn’t seem that way to me, if it’s she and not you who’ll decide your future.”
“A man can ask, but it’s the woman who makes the final decision.”
“Agreed. Do you love her?”
“I’ve been asking myself that a lot lately, Nana, and I have yet to come up with an answer.”
“Well, if you’re asking yourself whether you are in love, then you’re probably pretty much there, and either scared or unwilling to admit it.”
“Probably both. If I was sure that she wanted what I want, I’d be after her with guns blazing. I’m uncertain because I think she’s had a bad experience and is afraid to trust herself or me. The thing is that we click on so many levels. When we’re alone we’re like a flint and dry grass.”
“So you haven’t slept with her.” It was a statement, not a question.
“How do you know that?”
“Because I’ve lived seventy-seven years, and I know what happens to a woman when a man she cares for makes love to her. If you want her to stop pussyfooting around, you know what to do. Assuming she cares for you, that is.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He could always count on his nana to give it to him straight. “You want crab cakes, as usual?” he asked her.
“Son, you know crab cakes will be the last thing I ask for before I leave this world. What does your sweetheart do for a living?” his grandmother asked. Nana believed that women should be independent and should marry for love and not because they needed a place to stay and someone to pay for it.
“She’s a fundraiser, Princeton graduate and daughter of a Texas rancher and a congresswoman. She’s beautiful and polished.”
She nodded. “If she marries you, it certainly won’t be as an alternative to poverty. I’d like to meet her.” Scott smiled.
He took her to Mo’s Fisherman’s Wharf in Baltimore’s Inner Harbor. “You’re the delight of my life, son,” she said when he took her home. “Your mother would have been so proud of you.”
He hugged her and kissed her cheek. “Thanks. Unfortunately, I’ll never know.”
Shortly after one o’clock Saturday afternoon, he telephoned the Sheraton Hotel. “May I speak with Ms. Braxden?”
“This is Lynn Braxden. With whom am I speaking?”
“Ms. Braxden, this is Scott Galloway.”
“Ambassador Galloway. How thoughtful of you to call me. Matt told me to expect you at six-thirty, and that I’d better not keep you waiting, since you’re a stickler for time. Thank you for inviting me out this evening.”
“Thank you for agreeing to accompany me to the fundraiser. It’s a formal dinner, which I hope Matt told you, and there’ll be entertainment. I hope you’ll enjoy it.”
“I’m sure I will. It will be my first opportunity to enjoy Washington’s social scene, and I’m looking forward to it.”
“I’ll call you from the lobby. See you then. Have a pleasant afternoon.”
“Thank you. Goodbye.”
“Perfect manners, at least so far,” he said to himself. But, as Gershwin wrote, “It ain’t necessarily so.” He thought of Denise, with her perfect beauty and impeccable manners, and the feel of her red-hot body whenever he touched her.
The cover revealed practically nothing about the book.
He stood facing the elevator when the door opened, and a flawless black goddess stepped out. She glanced at him and did a double take. “Ms. Braxden.” He stepped toward her with his right hand extended. “I’m Scott Galloway.”
Either he was missing some testosterone or Denise had him tied up in knots, because he felt nothing for this stunning beauty. He imagined what the Harrington bunch would say when he walked into that ballroom with Lynn Braxden. He wouldn’t have minded if she’d been less of a knockout, because if Denise wasn’t there—and he prayed that she wouldn’t be—the Harrington women would give her a detailed description of Lynn. He felt the flesh on the back of his neck prickle with anxiety. At his table—number eight—he found Pamela, Drake, Judson, Heather and two vacant chairs, and allowed himself to breathe.
He wished he’d been sitting beside Judson, but Pamela sat on his right. “What’s this all about?” she whispered, ignoring Drake’s high sign.
“You wouldn’t expect me to get all decked out in a tux and come to a big affair like this one alone, unless I was married and my wife was out of the country,” he told her without a hint of apology in his voice. “If you want to know more, ask Ms. Miller.” He turned his attention to his date.
“How’d I get so lucky that you didn’t have a date for a big affair like this one?” Lynn asked him.
He was not goi
ng to play cat and mouse with her. “I wasn’t planning to attend.”
“But these people at the table are your friends. I can tell from the way they’re looking at me.”
He leaned back to let the waiter put a plate of filet mignon, asparagus and roasted new potatoes in front of him. “You don’t want to know the details,” he said, more crisply than he’d intended.
“What’s her name?”
Taken aback by her persistence, he said, “Sweetheart…or whatever else I feel like calling her in one of those moments. What’s between you and my brother?”
The sharp rise of her eyebrows and the widening of her eyes told him that she’d received his remark as the dagger he’d intended. “I’m sorry, Mr. Galloway. I shouldn’t have insisted.”
“What will you do in Costa Rica?” he asked, changing the subject.
“I’m an agronomist, and I’m making crop inspections for the U.S. government.”
“Damn. I wouldn’t have guessed it in a thousand years. Congratulations!”
Her smile and sudden diffidence told him that his words had pleased her. “I grew up on a big farm, and I love experimenting with seeds and crops. It’s been a passion of mine since childhood.”
“Looking at you, I’d have sworn you’d never been near dirt of any kind.” It suggested that she might be more substantial than she looked. He wondered about Matt’s seeming disinterest in her.
By the time the evening finally came to an end, he was somewhat relieved. He bade the Harringtons good-night and drove Lynn Braxden back to the Sheraton.
A Compromising Affair (The Harringtons) Page 7
