Humor suffused David's expression. Frustrated with herself, she socked him lightly on the shoulder. “What I mean is I wasn't angry with you. Samantha said you set the record straight right away.”
“I did.”
“Thank you.”
“You're welcome.”
Nina smiled. And silently said a word she'd once grounded Zach for using. Obviously her flirting skills had not made it into the new millennium; this seduction was too far gone to save.
As her eyes began to ache from sinus pressure, she acknowledged that this was a damned sorry time, anyway, to seduce a man who had dated the most beautiful women in Chicago. Her best efforts today had left her looking like the “before” photo for a NyQuil ad.
The problem with David, she decided, was that he was a chocolate-covered graham cracker. Nina never kept her favorite cookies in the house when she was dieting, because she understood that temptation trumped reason. David was the kind of cookie who should not be allowed in the house.
“Too bad we're single. If I had a boyfriend or you had a girlfriend, our living in the same house wouldn't be such an issue,” she said, thinking it would help keep her head on straight, too.
David looked surprised. “If I had a girlfriend or you had a boyfriend, we wouldn't be living together at all, Miss Baxter.”
He bent toward her, his lean-jawed face so close she could see flecks of gold in his eyes. “I don't know whom you've been dating,” he purred in a liquid voice she'd never imagined her boss using, “but if you were my lover, you would not be sleeping in another man's home.”
Nina felt herself sway as if hypnotized. “Oh.”
Kiss me.
That was her only clear thought. It was just occurring to her that she might have to say it out loud when a bell rang. Multiple times.
As Nina tried to figure out whether the bell was a warning inside her head, David straightened and looked at the closed bedroom door. “Company,” he murmured.
In the next moment, Nina heard Bubby and Johanna's voices, followed by a stampede of feet and the sound of her exuberant children. “The kids!” she moaned. She slapped a hand to her forehead. “Oh, no! I wanted to meet their bus.”
Saying nothing, David nodded, reached over and opened the bedroom door.
Nina stepped into the hallway, expecting him to follow. When she heard the door click softly shut behind her and realized she was alone, she felt like she'd just ended a date. A bad one.
“You're absolutely certain you want to do this now?”
“Absolutely.” Nina blew her nose and nodded vehemently. Her extraordinarily curly ponytail flopped heavily atop her head.
Five hours after she'd left his room this afternoon, David sat with Nina in his library. He peered intently at the calendar spread out on his desk, not because he needed to check dates, but because he didn't want to stare at her.
He'd barely been able to keep from picking her up and throwing first her and then himself onto the bed this afternoon.
Clearing his throat, he removed a pencil from a silver cup on his desk and stuck the tip in the electric sharpener. He had the ridiculous thought that the noise might mask the roar of his thoughts.
Nina Baxter was driving him crazy. He'd had to take several steadying breaths after she'd left his room. Then he'd dressed and joined the others as if nothing were out of the ordinary. He'd said hello to the kids, heard about their experience on a different school bus route, assured Johanna that her cure had worked wonders and had finally excused himself, saying he needed to head back to the office for a couple of hours. In reality he'd spent his time walking along the river, trying to clear his mind.
The instant he'd seen the insinuating tilt of his coworkers' raised eyebrows he had known that he would do nothing, nothing, to compromise Nina's reputation or her children's well-being. Didn't mean he'd decided he wasn't interested in something more than a boss-secretary relationship; it merely meant that he would force himself to decide exactly what that “something more” was before he took any action. The conclusion he'd come to while defending her integrity in the boardroom today was that he either had to marry Nina or fire her again so they could explore a relationship.
And then she'd stepped into his bedroom this afternoon. And had flirted. At least he was pretty sure she'd been flirting. He'd never seen it done quite that way before.
Accidentally allowing the electric sharpener to chew his pencil down to a mere shadow of its former self, David frowned, tossed it aside and plunged another helpless stick into the whirring blade.
“All right, let's get down to business,” he said, removing the pencil before its demise and tapping the point on Friday of the current week. “You think you can pull together a small cocktail reception by this date?”
Nina leaned forward to view the day in question. She smelled like flowers and menthol, and instantly he had the image of the two of them ten years down the road, leaning over household accounts and discussing college funds.
He sat farther back in his chair. A woman's scent had affected him in the past, but never in that way. Blaming the vision of himself, domesticated in his fifties, on the menthol, he waited for Nina's response.
“Friday. That gives me four days,” she said, nodding over the calendar. “Sure. Of course. Absolutely no problem.” She swiped the tissue under her nose. “Tell me who's attending, how formal you want it and if you have anything special in mind, and I'll handle everything from there.”
She sounded confident, even enthusiastic, but David didn't want to overtax her. His long-suffering secretary, who'd called him a workaholic slave driver for the past twenty years, would hit him with her hole punch if she could read his mind right now.
“Great,” he said, in lieu of babying her. “The party is to welcome Shiguro Taka and his wife, and the objective is to convince Taka Enterprises that Hanson Media Group is still a major player. You'll have to do all the hiring necessary. George and Helen used to host the business parties.” He frowned. “I suppose you can call Helen and ask for referrals if you want to.”
“But you would rather not?” she guessed, studying his face.
David rubbed the shadow of stubble appearing on his chin. “Their parties were always very formal. Big and showy, like George.” He smiled wryly at his new assistant. “Frankly, I've eaten enough beluga caviar to last me until the next ice age. I'm wondering how we could achieve a similar effect-enforcing the idea that the company is thriving again-without sacrificing…” David wasn't sure of the word he wanted.
“Warmth?” Nina suggested.
He nodded slowly. “Warmth. Yes. Hospitality.” “Something a little more old-fashioned and homey?” she ventured.
“Do you think old-fashioned, homey and warm can be impressive?”
Nina laughed. He thought the sound, husky and low, was distractingly sexy. “Obviously you've never been to a bar mitzvah.”
For the next three days, Nina was too busy with decisions, plans and preparations to spend much time picturing David naked.
Well, she managed a couple of brief fantasies, but she was determined not to stray from her goal: to throw a party that Shiguro Taka would remember and that would make any and all suspicious minds realize that David had hired her because she was competent, creative and smart.
The first thing Nina did was check into caterers, but their ideas for a “warm and homey” soiree all sounded similar: mini hamburgers, hibachi cocktail dogs, custard cups of macaroni and cheese, individual meat loaves. Nina pictured tiny portions of mashed potatoes and gravy served alongside with eensy-weensy utensils. The image made her laugh, but the price of the all-American cocktail party did not. Making a mental note to go into catering if the business world completely dried up for her, Nina hung up with the last caterer and suddenly remembered what she'd said to David: Obviously you've never been to a bar mitzvah.
Why not?
She called Bubby. Together they planned the party and worked like fiends every minute that th
e kids were in school and David was at the office.
When they needed extra help in the kitchen, Nina called Janet Daitch, the grandmother approaching retirement age who had also been fired from Hanson's. And Bubby asked two of her friends from the senior center to bake challahs. All the women were thrilled to be cooking and baking “professionally.”
Not only was Nina planning a very enjoyable cocktail party and giving good people a chance to earn a little extra cash, she was also saving David a truckload of money, which inspired her to add a new goal to her agenda: Show him and anyone else who cared to observe that one did not have to break the bank to have a good time. It was better to cut expenses than employees.
Each night when David came home, Nina would tell him only that the party plans were progressing nicely. She didn't want him to know that she and Bubby were preparing the food. She knew he'd balk, though she trusted that his resistance to the idea would stem from concern about her working too hard, not from lack of faith in her ability. That revelation evoked a sweet gratitude that made her all the more determined to plan a party he could be proud of.
For three days and three nights, Nina worked and planned and budgeted. When David arrived home to see her still fussing over her accounts ledger, he retired to his office. But he always emerged in time for popcorn and a movie with the kids.
On Thursday, with the plans and preparations looking good, Nina decided to do something about her own appearance. For years and years, she'd looked like exactly what she was: a single working mother on a budget. One who'd forgotten that even penny-pinching single mothers deserved a decent hairstyle.
Seeing Samantha again had sparked Nina's imagination. David expected her to be the hostess of this gathering; that called for something more than a skirt with a pattern that camouflaged jam stains and a hair claw to scrape her unruly curls into place. Samantha had curly hair, too, but she embraced the wildness. Her wardrobe was eclectic and creative and fun.
So, on Thursday when Nina called Samantha to formally confirm that she and Jack would be at the cocktail party, she stole an informal moment to ask the other woman about hair care.
Samantha did more than advise; she came over Friday on her lunch hour with hair products from Barneys in New York and showed Nina how to work with thick curly hair so that she looked more like Andie MacDowell than Roseanne Roseannadanna.
When Bubby and the other women Nina had hired to work in the kitchen that day noted the change in her appearance, they went to work on her wardrobe, promising to return that evening with items for her to try on.
David returned home after Nina had showered and experimented with the hair products Samantha had left. To her surprise and pleasure she was able to replicate the style Samantha had shown her earlier. Now for the first time in memory, her loose curls were soft and spiraling.
Because she was still waiting to see what the other women had chosen for her to wear, she was dressed in black warm-up pants with a white Maroon 5 T-shirt Zach had given her last Mother's Day.
“Hi,” she said as she emerged from her room to find David walking down the hallway toward his office. He paused when he saw her, his expression plainly surprised. “Don't worry,” she laughed, “I won't wear this to the cocktail party. I'm going to get dressed a little later.”
“You look great.”
She plucked at her T-shirt. “If this is 'great,' I definitely need to rethink my style.”
David was dressed in his suit from work, his tie loosened, but not removed completely. He did look great, although a bit rough around the edges. His eyes were tired, his hair looked as if he'd been pushing his fingers through it, and he could use a shave. He still looked like John Corbett. On a good day. Not the kind of guy you'd kick out of bed for eating crackers.
Or for any other reason, Nina thought, immediately slapping a benign smile on her face. This was not the time to lust after the boss.
“We still have an hour and a half before the guests arrive,” she ventured, changing the subject in her mind, “and half an hour before the crew shows up. So, I was wondering… It's Friday night, and the kids and I always celebrate Shabbat when we're home. If it's all right with you, I'd like to have a short service with them. Light the candles, say kiddush. Then they're spending the night with friends.”
David looked bemused. “I'm not really sure what you're talking about, but sure. Go ahead.” He smiled.
Nina smiled, too, and explained. “In observant Jewish families, we celebrate the end of the current week and the start of the coming week even when we're not in a synagogue. Especially when we're not in a synagogue. The Sabbath is a special day set aside for family and for reflection. Ideally,” she added, since she'd moved on a Saturday and was working tonight. “Officially it begins at sundown on Friday and ends at sundown on Saturday. There's another service called havdalah that officially ends the Sabbath day.”
David listened closely, but his expression was hard to read. Nina laughed. “Speaking of all things official, that officially ends my lecture on basic Judaism. Anyway, we'll be brief, and I'll make sure we don't disturb anything set up for tonight.”
“I don't care what you disturb. Do you know your eyes get bluer when you talk about this?”
Nina didn't know about her eyes, but she felt her cheeks turn redder. “It's a passion for me. A way to connect with the past and the future. A way to bless the present.”
“Do Zach and Izzy appreciate it the way you do?”
“They're beginning to. Izzy loves to light the candles. Plus there's really good bread and ultra-sweet wine involved.”
David grinned. “Count me in. Are you starting right now?”
“Hmm?”
He loosened his tie and whipped it off his neck. “I'd like to join you, if I may. I can shower and change later if you want to get right to it.”
Nina's eyes widened. “Oh!” A myriad of responding emotions left her speechless. “We can wait for you.”
The anticipation she felt was surely sweeter than it should have been.
“Barukh ata Adonai Eloheinu…”
David didn't understand the Hebrew words and couldn't have repeated them if they'd been printed on a paper right in front of him. But understanding them didn't matter, not tonight. He understood that much right away.
“…melekh ha o-lam….”
The sounds and sights before him played on his heart…no, on something bigger, something that would never die… It played on his soul like his first glimpse of the ocean, the first sighting of an eagle.
Watching Nina and her daughter, their heads covered in lace, faces bathed in candlelight, eyes closed, lips parted to utter an ancient prayer as they held hands-it was a sight that stirred him more than he'd ever, ever have guessed.
The Friday-night candles were lit and the candle-lighting prayer sung by the women in a family, Nina had said, and David could see the wisdom in that tradition: No man would be able to think of work, of annoying traffic, of the bottom line while watching his wife and his daughter turn into angels right before his eyes.
If a man had a wife and a daughter.
David stood on the opposite side of the kitchen counter with Zach, watching and changing a little bit, though he wasn't sure how, with each small ritual of the service.
After the candle lighting, Zach, Izzy and Nina sang a happy song in Hebrew and English about greeting a Sabbath bride. They each listed one thing they had done well in the week past, one thing they were grateful for and one thing they wanted to do better in the week ahead. When Nina looked at David to see if he wanted to contribute anything to that part of the proceedings, he was so filled with emotion, so unsure what he was feeling exactly that he shook his head slightly, something he regretted when her list included gratitude for the work she'd been given and the hospitality she and her children had been shown.
Nina then had Zach bring out a handmade box with Hebrew lettering. She thanked God that her family had “plenty,” and that they were able to give dail
y to others, at which point she, Zach and Izzy all reached into their pockets to place money inside the box. Nina placed dollar bills; her kids dropped in change.
“There are kids in Chicago who have to sleep on the street. That's me and Zach's Tzedakah project,” Izzy said.
“Tzedakah is a form of charity,” Nina clarified. “But really it's about remembering that we're all connected, all responsible for each other in some way, so when one person is hurting, we have to notice and care. Izzy and Zach drop in change each day and when they have ten dollars, they give it to a women-and-children's shelter. Tzedakah is a daily practice, but it's especially powerful on the Sabbath. It's part of repairing the world.”
David dropped in a ten, but watching two preteen kids dig into their pockets and say a prayer, asking God to make the money do good work, left him with a vague unease. Hanson's grand donations and lavish charity events seemed small, almost embarrassing by comparison.
In David's family, no one had ever prayed at home. The family had trekked to church on Christmas and Easter, but once they'd left the building, prayer was forgotten in favor of more business. Always the business. David remembered thinking that for the Hansons, going to church was like visiting an elderly relative: You didn't want to go, the cookies were good, you couldn't wait to leave. He wished now that his parents had talked to him about the meaning behind the moments. He wished they'd talked more, period. And touched.
David emerged from his uncomfortable musing when Zach moved to stand next to his mother and Izzy. Nina put a hand on each of her children's heads, thanked God for “blessing me with these beautiful people,” and asked Him to remind Izzy daily that she was strong, loving and kind and to remind Zach that he was compassionate, wise and noble.
David could have sworn that the kids grew taller in that moment beneath the cap of her hand. He had a sudden, disturbing memory of himself seated between his parents in church on an Easter Sunday. His father had opened the paper program and was scribbling office memos over the words to “Amazing Grace.” His mother was staring straight ahead, a bland smile on her face, her mind obviously elsewhere. But the parents in the pew ahead had their arms around their kids and when it was time to stand and sing, each parent held a hymnal with one hand and put a free arm around the nearest child. David had inched his own hymnal closer to his mother so she could sing with him, but she hadn't noticed.
The Boss and Miss Baxter Page 13
