by Susan Sey
Mary Jane was surprised to find herself unbending a little. That was some powerful smile. “Thus the debutante parade?”
“Exactly. I’ve thought a lot about the kind of life I want, Mary Jane, and the sort of woman who’d fit into that life. She’s starting to look an awful lot like you.”
Mary Jane stared. “Me?”
He laughed, a toothpaste commercial come to life and a tiny pang of regret tightened her throat. Erik was a good-looking, charismatic man. Normal women liked men like Erik. Hell, they loved him. Why couldn’t she be normal? Why couldn’t she fall in love with him?
“Oh come on, Mary Jane. It’s not like we’ve never talked about it before.”
“Yeah, but never seriously. I mean, if I was single at fifty and it was between dating you and getting a cat, I’d probably pick you, but I don’t think I’m quite there yet.”
“Why not? You know me. You know who I am, what I’m like. You know that I think the world of you. I know that you’re smart, driven and principled. I know that you’re honest, that money’s not your biggest motivator and that if you ever appeared on the evening news, it would be completely unintentional. We both have careers that take up the bulk of our lives, and we both like it that way. Lots of successful marriages are based on less. Why shouldn’t we go out a few times, see where it takes us?”
“Because I don’t...” Mary Jane flapped a mortified hand between them. “We don’t...you know. Feel that way about each other.”
“Feel what way?”
Her cheeks burned. “That way.”
“The way you feel about Tyrese, you mean?”
Mary Jane thought about all the hours she hadn’t spent sleeping last night. She thought about all the delicious aches and twinges and abrasions she’d collected as a result. “Yes.”
“And how’s that working out for you?” he asked. “Following your libido into a relationship.”
Mary Jane frowned, struck. “Not so well.”
“There you go, then.”
She stared at him, a curious lightness blooming in her chest. She thought it might be hope, but she wasn’t sure. She hadn’t hoped for anything in so long. “You really think this could work?”
“Think about it, Mary Jane. Our careers didn’t just happen. We set goals. We researched schools, hospitals, specialties. Then we did what it took to get from there to here. We expect to work like hell for all the other good things in our lives. Why should love fall into our laps?”
“I don’t know.” She bit her lip. Surely it wasn’t this simple. But she couldn’t think at this particular moment of any reason not to at least try it. “I guess we could go out sometime.”
His strong, square face lit up with that killer smile again. “Great,” he said. “But there’s one more thing I need to know.”
“What is it?”
“Be honest now. A lot is riding on this answer.” He paused, gave her a very serious look. “You don’t want to be First Lady, do you?”
She snorted. “I can’t even look your mom in the eye she scares me so bad. I’d chew off my own arm before I dated a guy running for office.”
“Yeah, I thought so. But I had to make sure.”
He tucked his fingers into his pockets and smiled at her. She smiled back, but it felt like wearing somebody else’s jeans. Even if the size was right, it was still awkward. She forced herself to focus on this new idea, that she could choose a partner for the life she wanted rather than depend on her stupid heart.
It was actually kind of appealing. She’d wasted half of her adult life having sporadic sex with a guy who viewed money-laundering as a perfectly legitimate form of protest against institutionalized racism. Was she really going to waste the other half, too? Or was she going to get practical and stop expecting her wants and her needs to correspond so neatly?
Not that she had much of a choice. It was either that or resign herself to a future of conjugal visits.
She looked at Erik, standing a respectful distance away, those big hands tucked safely into the pockets of his jeans. She couldn’t deny that it felt nice to have a guy like him thinking of her as wife material. She noticed that he hadn’t spoken a single word about love or desire or need, though. It was an interesting omission from a guy as inherently passionate as Erik.
“It’s Nixie, isn’t it?” she asked.
“What’s Nixie?”
“The woman you don’t want to want.”
He shook his head. “Why would I not want to want Nixie Leighton-Brace? She’s hot. Everybody in the world wants Nixie.”
“Yeah, but she’s definitely First Lady material.” Mary Jane’s smile morphed into a smirk that felt much more natural. “Plus your mom picked her out for you.”
“Okay, fine.” Erik pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ll admit it. I lust inappropriately, same as you. But I grew up with a famous mom. I know what that’s like, and I’m not going to do it to my own kids.”
“Nixie’s a whole different kind of famous than your mom.” Mary Jane said. “It’s not the same thing at all.”
“Listen, how about this? You don’t hassle me about Nixie, I won’t ask you about Ty. Let’s focus on each other for now, huh?”
Mary Jane considered this. “Fair enough,” she said. There was a pause that stretched clumsily into a silence. Finally she said, “So, how do you see this working?” She moved her shoulders uncomfortably. “This dating business.”
“Let’s just go out.” He made it sound so easy. “A couple dates. A movie. Dinner. Bowling.”
“Bowling?”
“You like mini golf better?”
“Bowling’s fine.” She gave him a smile. It was small, but by far the most genuine of the day. An answering smile broke over his face, turning all those hard edges into something arresting and beautiful.
“Have you eaten today?” Erik asked.
She tried to remember when she’d last eaten and prayed her stomach wouldn’t mortify her with an almighty rumble. “Um, no.”
“Come on. I’ll take you out to dinner and break my own rule about Nixie-talk.”
Mary Jane frowned. “Uh-oh. Is she in trouble?”
“No, she is trouble. She seems to think she’s our new Director of Outreach.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Get dressed. I’ll fill you in.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“It’s a pretty simple set up,” Nixie said as she guided Karl through the clinic’s waiting room on Monday. She badged them into the receptionist pen where Wanda frowned at a computer screen and poked at a keyboard with two-inch finger nails.
“This is Wanda,” she told Karl. “She sees all, knows all and punishes without mercy. Try to stay on her good side.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Wanda said absently, then frowned at her computer. “What? What internal error? Oh no you didn’t.” She smacked the monitor with the heel of her hand. It whirred sadly and brought up the correct screen. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” she said. “There’s more where that came from, too.”
Karl looked up from his cell phone and paused, momentarily arrested by the sight that was Wanda. “Right,” he said. “I’ll be careful.”
Nixie smiled and led Karl back into a treatment room. “The clinic provides all your basic medical services but most of its patients present with diseases related to poverty. Obesity, substance abuse, diabetes, asthma.”
She waved an arm toward the nebulizer station. “These machines mix asthma medication with oxygen and the kids breathe it in. They’re not expensive but most of our families could never afford one of their own.”
“Mmmm hmmmm.” Karl didn’t look up from his phone. For all Nixie knew he was making a grocery list. He finally slipped it into his pocket, and cast his eyes around the cramped room. Nixie was suddenly conscious of how clean and spacious it looked compared to some of the hospitals they’d seen outside the U.S. Hell, compared to the ones they’d built outside the U. S.
“I know it’s not our
usual thing,” she said. “I mean, nobody’s going to turn up here with a machete injury or anything, but--”
Karl cut her off. “Why are we here, Nixie? With your bank balance you could’ve had a nebulizer in every house on the block last week.”
“So I could be on a plane to Bumani by tonight?”
Karl didn’t answer, just gave her a doleful look over the rims of his glasses.
“I don’t want to buy them more nebulizers, Karl. I want to fund a full-time pediatrics position for somebody who specializes in asthma.”
Karl shook his head. “I had a feeling you’d say something like that.” He consulted his phone again. “I put together a list of potential invitees last night. I’ll just--”
Nixie cut him off this time. “Invitees? To what?”
“To the fund raiser.” Karl peered at his tiny computer. “I assume we’ll be hosting one on site within the week.”
“No.”
Karl blinked and finally focused on her. “No?”
“Nope.” Nixie gave him a sunny smile. “I’ve been thinking about this, and I’ve decided on a two-pronged approach.”
Karl’s mouth tightened into a skeptical line inside his beard. “A two-pronged approach.”
“We do a photo op first,” Nixie said. “Something small and exclusive to generate interest. Then we’ll follow it up in a week or two with a gala. Off site, though. I’m thinking down town, black tie. Something pretty for the social climbers, lots of press.”
Karl frowned. “That’s going to take time and planning, not to mention connections. The social climbers you have in mind don’t turn out for any old cause.”
“We have connections,” Nixie said. “We’ve been making them for years. Let’s use them.”
“I don’t mind that so much as the time. Come on, Nixie. Bumani isn’t going to wait forever.”
“I already told you,” Nixie said. “I’m not going to Bumani.”
Karl’s brows came together in a disapproving line. “Tell me you’re not in love with the doctor.”
Nixie threw up her hands. “How many times am I going to have to tell you before you believe me?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe when you start the sentence with I’ve come to my senses and am packing for Bumani because...”
Nixie glared at him. “I’m not going to Bumani.”
There was a rap on the door frame. Nixie turned to find Erik and Mary Jane watching her, Erik’s hand in the small of Mary Jane’s back. A tiny sliver of hurt wedged itself into her heart. Was there something about kissing her that sent men scuttling into the arms of other women? She supposed she should be grateful he hadn’t turned to her mother.
“Hey, Nixie,” Mary Jane said. “Or should I say Madame Director of Outreach.”
Nixie shot Erik a look that said tattletale. Erik shrugged and Mary Jane stepped away from his hand. Nixie couldn’t help but notice how much more comfortable she seemed with her personal space back.
“Erik,” Nixie said with a saccharine smile. “What are you doing here?”
“I have a date with Mary Jane,” he said.
Karl sent Nixie a meaningful look. Nixie ignored him. She turned to Mary Jane and said, “How nice.”
“We’re just grabbing a cup of coffee,” Mary Jane said. Her face brightened. “Hey, you could join us! Do you have time?”
“Um, no, sorry,” Nixie said, unaccountably cheerful all of a sudden. “Karl and I are hashing out plans to raise your clinic that boatload of money I promised you.”
“Oh.” A clear internal battle played out on Mary Jane’s face--money for the clinic or company for her date? She sighed. “I guess you need to keep focus, huh?”
“Yeah.” Nixie smirked at Erik. “Sorry.”
“Should we stay here?” she asked Karl with wide-eyed appeal. “In case you need us?”
“Ah, no.” Karl gave her a warm smile. “The beneficiary’s job is usually quite simple. You’ll just need to show up in a ball gown and chat up the reporters all night. Nixie and I will take care of the rest.”
Mary Jane blanched and she turned to Nixie. “Reporters?”
A trickle of alarm snaked into Nixie’s stomach. “Um, yeah. We need all the coverage we can get if we want to make the gala profitable. Is that a problem?”
Mary Jane turned accusing eyes on Erik. “Gala? Nobody said anything about a gala.”
Erik looked at Nixie and said, “She’s a little camera shy.”
“How camera shy, exactly?”
Erik lifted a shoulder. Mary Jane said, “I would rather gouge out my own eyes than walk a red carpet. Even if Brad Pitt and George Clooney were both standing at the other end waiting for me.”
“Oh,” Nixie said faintly. “So no gala?”
“Please God no.”
Erik watched Nixie’s advisor pat Mary Jane’s hand with one big paw. “Not what you bargained for when you hired a Director of Outreach?” he asked, a kind twinkle in those pale eyes. Erik didn’t trust it for a second.
“I never...” Mary Jane said, then stopped. She was no dummy. She saw exactly what he saw--that Karl had never believed Nixie was anybody’s Director of Outreach. He’d never thought he was really going to have to shill for childhood asthma. He’d been waiting patiently for Nixie’s lie to bite her on the ass so he could shame her into coming back to Team Save The World.
Mary Jane cleared her throat. “I never expected a gala. That’s all.” She smiled weakly at Nixie. “Boy. We’re getting our money’s worth, huh?”
“I can scale back,” Nixie said, glancing at her advisor whose smile had gone from kindly to smug. “It’ll mean less money, of course, but if you’re not happy with the plans as they stand--”
A sudden surge of anger caught Erik by the throat. “Not happy?” he heard himself say. “Of course she’s happy. You’re going to keep us afloat for another year, maybe even allow us to hire that dedicated pediatrics person we’ve been talking about. Why wouldn’t she be happy?”
Mary Jane nodded reluctantly. “I do want a dedicated pediatrics person, and I’m thrilled you might be able to get me one. Even if it’s just for the winter. Flu season is a killer for kids with asthma.”
“But you just said...” Nixie trailed off and frowned.
“Listen, Nixie, here’s the deal. I don’t like crowds, I don’t like media types and I hate parties of all kinds.” She grimaced. “Small talk. Eeeesh. It’s like the ninth circle of hell.”
“Um, okay. But in order to pull this off, we kind of need crowds. And media types. And it’s pretty traditional to cap off the campaign with, you know, a fundraiser. A gala. Black tie. Red carpet. Speeches and interviews. The works.”
“Oh, God. Really?” Mary Jane looked pained, and turned to Erik. “You’ll have to do it.”
Erik blinked. “Me?”
“Him?” Nixie asked.
“Well it can’t be me.” Mary Jane shook her head. “I get hives when I talk to reporters. And you can stop looking at me like that,” she told Erik. “You know it’s true.”
Erik laced his fingers together on top of his head and blew out a breath. “Yeah, I know.”
Karl leaned forward. “We don’t need to do something so elaborate, Dr. Riley,” he said. “If it suits you better, we can certainly do something less intense.”
“Less intense means less money,” Nixie said again.
“It also means less time and less press,” Karl said, smiling at Mary Jane. “Nixie’s a pretty potent donor draw. I’m sure we’ll keep manage to keep the lights on for you.”
Nixie’s pleading eyes met Erik’s, and he sighed. If it was just a matter of disappointing Nixie, that would be one thing. But this advisor of hers was steamrolling her with an efficiency and precision that suggested years of practice, and Erik didn’t like it. He gave Karl an oily smile and said, “I’ll handle the press for Mary Jane.”
“You will?” Nixie’s head shot up and she gazed at him with such radiant gratitude that Eri
k smiled at her. He couldn’t help it. She smiled back and something hard and twisted in his gut smoothed out. He’d done the right thing. Now it was just a matter of keeping his hands as virtuous as his intentions.
“Yeah,” he said. “I will. But don’t abuse it. I’m not a huge fan of the media myself.”
“You’re strictly 911,” Nixie assured him, beaming. “I’ll do as much as I can myself.”
“You’d better,” he said. He turned to Karl. “Looking forward to working with you.”
“Likewise,” Karl said, but his eyes were sharp and hostile behind his glasses. Erik’s skin went a little tight. Jesus, he thought. Who is this guy? Karl reached out for a handshake. Erik was startled to see a tattoo running along his inner forearm, just below his rolled back sleeve. Two rows of tiny numbers and letters. He forced his eyes back to Karl’s, took the older man’s hand and shook it briefly.
“You’re working tomorrow?” he asked Nixie.
“Yeah.”
“I am, too. Give me an update then.” He turned and headed for the door, suddenly desperate to get out of the clinic. There was something so strangling, so claustrophobic in the air between Nixie and her advisor. He couldn’t breathe.
He had one foot on the sidewalk before he stopped. He closed his eyes and ran a weary palm down his face.
He’d forgotten Mary Jane.
Nixie watched Erik stalk silently back into the room, take Mary Jane’s arm and shepherd her out the door. Nixie shook her head. She would never lie again. Not if punishment was always this swift and unflinching. Not that it was the first time a guy had gone right from kissing her to another woman’s arms, especially not after he’d seen the people she kept company with. But still.
She turned back to Karl who was watching her in silent approbation.
“You heard the man,” she said. “Let’s have something for him by tomorrow.” She picked up her cell phone and started to scroll through the stored numbers.
Karl stilled her hands with one of his and ran a critical eye over her. “Maybe you should start with a haircut and a facial first,” he said. “You look a little...rough.”
