His chest puffed a little higher. “Thank you.” He eyeballed her crisp business pantsuit, inky black with a cotton-candy-pink blouse. Her beautiful golden eyes were encased by square-framed black glasses while her hair was pulled up and secured in a tight bun. Beauty and brains—a heady combination.
“You know your father followed your work religiously.”
“Really.” Malcolm returned to his chair.
“Yes, really,” she said, eyeing him. “Surely that doesn’t come as a surprise?”
Malcolm tried not to groan, but he couldn’t help it. He’d come to work to get away from ghosts. “Is there something you need, Gloria? I have a lot of work to catch up on.”
“Actually, I came to ask you for a favor.”
He frowned. “What sort of favor?”
“Well, nothing too strenuous that will take up much of your time.”
“No offense, but you’re not exactly a good judge when it comes to time management. The last two-hour project shockingly took all night.”
“Sorry I interrupted your previously scheduled pity party to do something that needed to be done,” she responded smoothly with a smile.
Malcolm bit back a retort and instead asked his question again. “What do you want, Gloria?”
Gloria took a deep breath and widened her smile a bit. “I was going through your father’s calendar and saw he was scheduled to attend a fund-raiser tomorrow night.”
Malcolm struggled to hide his smile. “A fund-raiser?”
“Yes. For the Texas Children’s Cancer Center.” She walked to his desk. “I know it’s short notice and I know how much you’ve taken to being walled up in your apartment lately, but it really is an important function. One I know your father was looking forward to.”
“Is that right?” he asked, unable to contain his sarcasm. More likely his father was just interested in doing his prerequisite amount of “face” charity work to satisfy the press.
“Orville Roark was very instrumental in lighting a serious torch under your father. He contributed generously. I’m surprised Mr. Roark hasn’t reached out to the Arc Foundation. Their center seems to be just the thing your organization would jump on.”
Malcolm recognized the question buried in the statement and he decided that it would be best to steer clear of her fishing expedition.
“Malcolm, I know it’s a lot to ask right now, but could you please attend in your father’s place? It would mean so much to me if you did.”
“To you?” he asked. His chin shot upward.
“It would be great for the Arc Foundation, as well,” Gloria reasoned. “I’ve been reading up on you.”
“Stay up all night on the Internet, did you?”
“No. I told you your father kept tabs on you. Who do you think gathered the information?”
“I’m sure somewhere in there I’m supposed be flattered you’ve been spying on me.”
“You know what?” she asked, crossing her arms. “I think you’d be surprised just how much you and your father have in common.”
“So you keep telling me.”
“And it’s true.” Gloria leaned forward and covered his hand with her own. “Come to the fund-raiser.”
He sighed, milking the situation since he liked the feel of her hand.
“Please,” she added.
Sighing, he felt no remorse in not telling her he’d already been invited to the fund-raiser. “I don’t know,” he hedged. “I’ll have to dust off my tux.”
“Or buy a new one,” she suggested.
Malcolm’s eyebrows crashed together. “What’s wrong with my tux?”
“It would be a shorter list if you asked me what was right with it. When did you buy that thing?”
“My mother bought that tux.”
“When—for the prom?”
“Ha. Ha.” He slid his hand from beneath hers. “Sorry, I’m more of a jeans and T-shirt kind of guy.”
“Amen,” she mumbled. “I tell you what. Why don’t I take you shopping?”
“Come again?”
“You heard me,” Gloria said, her eyes sweeping across him. “A man never gets a second chance to make a first impression. How about we go after work today?”
“I don’t need you to hold my hand to go shopping.”
In a flash, Gloria retrieved her BlackBerry from her purse. “I get off at five—will that be a problem?” she asked, ignoring his protest.
“Gloria, I said I can buy my own suit.”
“Oh, I’m sure you can but, um, you shouldn’t.”
“Excuse me?”
“Instead of taking the chance of you showing up in something like the suit you were wearing when I first met you, I think I should step in and help.”
He blinked. “You know, you have this way of sounding like you’re being nice when you’re really insulting a person.”
Her smile grew wider. “Really? I’ll work on that. I’ll come pick you up.”
The woman was determined to have her way.
“Great.” She clapped her hands together and turned toward the door.
“I didn’t say yes,” he said.
“But you want to,” she said. “Don’t worry, I’ll be your date if you can’t find someone on short notice.”
He frowned.
“Well, it’s not a date-date,” she clarified.
“Oh, really?” He leaned back in his chair. “When someone asks someone out, by definition that’s called a date.”
“It’s not a date,” she stressed.
He stretched his brows high. “Then what would you call it?”
“We’re two friends attending a very important fund-raiser for a great cause.”
“Friends?”
Gloria’s back straightened. “Acquaintances?”
Malcolm’s eyes lowered to the curve of her waist. “I don’t know,” he hesitated. “It still sort of sounds like a date.”
Gloria folded her arms, her patience thin.
He frowned and shook his head as if he was still deliberating.
“C’mon. Surely, going out with me isn’t all that bad,” she said sneakily.
“You’re not helping your case.”
“What? Are you scared of me?” she challenged, stalking toward his desk like a cougar locking in on her next prey. “Maybe that’s the real reason you’re always trying to run away. You’re scared of little ole me.”
“Hardly.”
“Prove it.”
“I don’t have to prove—”
“Chicken.” She crossed her arms and smiled snidely.
“I’m not—”
“B-gwak! B-gwak!”
Malcolm frowned.
“Just trying to talk to you in your native language.”
“Very mature.”
Gloria made a few more clucking sounds.
“All right. All right. I’ll go,” he agreed, shaking his head and wondering for the first time if perhaps Ms. Kingsley wasn’t dealing with a full deck.
“Great.” She straightened with a victorious grin and then headed toward the door. “It’s a date. I’ll pick you up this afternoon around five-thirty for your tux fitting.”
Chapter 6
Malcolm couldn’t have concentrated on work if his life depended on it.
A date? What the hell did she mean “it’s a date”? He shook his head and tried to concentrate on the words scattered across the thick stack of paperwork before him. “It’s not a date,” he mumbled. “If anything, it’s just like she said earlier—two friends…acquaintances—attending a very important fund-raiser for a great cause.”
Again, Malcolm shook his head. This was just another example of how much his life had turned upside down in the past week. What was once black was now white. What was once white was now…a date?
Leaning back in his chair, Malcolm contemplated the situation, still unable to shake the feeling that Gloria Kingsley was up to something. What—he had no idea. But it was definitely something.
For the rest of the day, Malcolm watched the clock. A few times, he actually held his watch to his ear to make sure the damn thing was still ticking. When he realized what he was doing, he questioned his continued anxiousness when it came to seeing Gloria.
Maybe it wasn’t her—but his curiosity of what she had up her sleeve. He nodded. He liked that idea better.
At precisely five o’clock, Paula stuck her head back into the office and told him she was calling it a day.
“Is there anything else I can get for you?” she asked, sliding her purse strap over her shoulder.
“No, no. I have everything under control,” he said.
Paula nodded and continued to eye him strangely.
“Really,” he stressed.
“I know you said you just want to stay busy,” she said, “but be careful not to overdo it.”
The note of concern in her voice touched him. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said.
Paula nodded and then backed out of the door.
Once he was alone again, he stood from his chair and walked over to his office window, where he watched a great number of the Arc Foundation’s employees and volunteers filter out of the building. He wasn’t aware of thinking of anything. He was content to just watch.
Malcolm did, however, become aware of a growing sense of unfairness. How was it that the sun continued to rise and set without his father being in it? How was his mother supposed to go on without her husband of four decades? How was he supposed to be forgiven when his dad was no longer around to do the forgiving?
He glanced over his shoulder and back at the clock sitting on his desk.
Five-fifteen. He knew his mother would be disappointed that he hadn’t come by, but he could always blame it on Gloria needing his help.
Maybe she wouldn’t come, Malcolm hoped when his thoughts traveled back to having to attend the black-tie event. Heck, he might even be able to talk Tyson and Felicia into going in his place.
The memory of Gloria descending a flight of stairs at that long-ago fund-raiser in an amazing black, backless gown was strong enough to stall Malcolm’s breathing. Maybe if he were lucky, she would wear something similar to that again.
Five-twenty.
Beautiful as Gloria might be, he doubted they could declare a truce for an entire night. She just had too smart a mouth for her own good.
Malcolm turned back toward the window just as another memory of Gloria crawling on all fours drifted across his mind—in particular, the way her ample bottom was perked up in his direction.
“Sorry I’m late,” Gloria said, breezing into his office and flashing him a smile.
Malcolm glanced at the clock and saw that she was actually five minutes early.
“Are you ready to go?” she asked, scanning her watch and fretting as though she was running on a tight schedule.
“Er, um…about the fund-raiser,” Malcolm started.
“Please tell me you’re not going to try to back out on me now. I’ve already made confirmations that you’d attend. You should have told me that you had already been invited,” she scolded.
He actually flushed under her soft reprimand.
Gloria marched over to his desk and grabbed his jacket, then rushed over toward him to help him put it on. “Don’t worry. You won’t have to stay long. Just put in a little face time, write a check and we’re out,” she said as if the matter was already settled.
Malcolm started to protest again, but she immediately cut him off.
“C’mon. C’mon. We have an appointment with Jose over at Anderson’s. He was kind enough to squeeze you in at the last minute for your measurements.”
Sensing he wasn’t going to win the argument, Malcolm slid one arm through the sleeve of his jacket and she buzzed around him so he could glide into the second.
“Great. We’ll take my car,” she said, leading him toward a blue BMW Mini Cooper.
Malcolm stopped and stared.
“What’s wrong?” she asked as she opened her car door.
“Um.” He cocked his head. “I don’t think I’m going to fit into that matchbox. Don’t you have a real car?”
Gloria jabbed a hand to her waist. “It is a real car. It’s roomier than it looks.”
“Somehow I doubt that.” He headed toward the passenger door, certain that his knees were going to be planted near his chin. “You know I don’t mind driving. My SUV is right over there.”
“Will you stop complaining and get in the car?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He gave her a mock salute and climbed into her toy car. To his surprise the inside was roomy, saving him from being jammed into the dashboard.
“See? I told you.”
Malcolm swallowed his moan. Did she always have to gloat?
However, the one thing Malcolm was not prepared for was Gloria Kingsley’s driving—if one wanted to call it that. Her zigzagging between cars, speeding up and then slamming on her brakes while she tailgated like Stevie Wonder behind the wheel was enough to give him motion sickness.
Horns blared from every direction, and to his shock, Gloria flashed more than a handful of birds and trash-talked her way through rush-hour traffic.
Who was this woman?
“Where in the hell did you get your driver’s license?”
Red sparks flashed from her eyes. “What’s wrong with my driving?” she asked, once again slamming on her brakes and stopping less than inch from the car before them.
Malcolm’s eyes bulged as his seat belt dug into his shoulder, locking him in place but causing havoc on his internal organs. “Maybe you should pull over and let me drive.”
“Why? I’m a good driver. I’ve never gotten a ticket or been in an accident. So you just sit over there and enjoy the ride.”
It would have been easier to do if he was on some crazy ride at Disneyland and his life wasn’t in danger. As it was, he found himself whispering a few prayers as they made their way across town. Every other second he was hollering for her to “watch out” or “stop” or “slow down.”
By the time she whipped the Mini Cooper into the strip mall they were both irritable and angry.
“I swear you have to be the worse backseat driver I’ve ever had,” she complained.
Malcolm ignored her as he battled the urge to drop to his knees and kiss the concrete.
“Oh, c’mon. You big baby,” Gloria chastised. She slid her purse strap over her shoulder and marched toward the building.
Malcolm shook his head and followed.
“Ah, Ms. Kingsley,” Jose Hernandez greeted her, sweeping his arms wide and allowing her to step into his embrace, where he kissed each side of her face.
Malcolm frowned at the short, squat man and ignored any possibility that the knot in his stomach had anything to do with jealousy.
“Thank you so much for taking us at the last minute,” Gloria cooed.
“For you,” Jose said, “anything.” He then shifted his attention toward Malcolm. “It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Braddock.”
Malcolm frowned.
“I fitted you for your brother’s wedding some years back.”
“Ah,” Malcolm said, nodding and accepting the man’s offered hand. “It’s good seeing you again.”
Jose kept nodding, but his lips tilted into a frown. “You know we sell more than just tuxedos. We carry the best suits in the state.”
Gloria chuckled. “Actually, Jose, Malcolm here is more of a jeans-and-T-shirt kind of guy. If it’s real fancy he might be able to find a pair of khaki pants somewhere.”
Malcolm would have responded if he hadn’t been captivated by her girlish, flirtatious giggle, and he couldn’t help but smile in return.
“Ah, the casual, outdoor type,” Jose said as if he understood completely. “Well, let’s get started.” He turned around and led Gloria and Malcolm toward the back of the store.
Before he knew it, Malcolm was positioned before a full-length mirror, where he watched the little man whip out an asse
mbly line of measuring tapes. Malcolm stood as still as he could, but there was a level of indignity associated with a man roaming his hands in places too close to the family jewels.
Having all this done while standing before Gloria’s attentive gaze had Malcolm’s face burning with embarrassment.
“You know,” Jose said, popping up from the floor like a jack-in-a-box. “I think I have just the suit for you. It’s Armani, but it will do nicely, yes?”
“Sure. Whatever, man.”
Jose nodded excitedly and disappeared into the back of the store.
Malcolm’s gaze shifted to Gloria, who in turn just smiled prettily.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “Jose is the best in the business.”
As if that was what was truly bothering him. Malcolm held his tongue. The sooner this was over the better.
“Here we are,” Jose said, returning. “Try this one on.”
Gloria stood and admired the tux. “Ooh. This is nice,” she said, rubbing her hand over the material.
Jose handed the suit to Malcolm. “You can try it on in that dressing room right over there. I think there are a few others you should also try. I’ll be right back.”
Malcolm shrugged and turned toward the dressing room. When he opened the door, he stopped and turned around to find Gloria marching behind him. “Do you mind? I do know how to get dressed.”
Her cheeks darkened into a deep burgundy. “Oh. Yes, yes. Of course. I wasn’t thinking,” she said, clearly embarrassed. “I’ll just wait out here.”
Shaking his head, Malcolm turned and entered the dressing room. He grumbled under his breath the whole time. “I need my head examined. How did I let her talk me into this?”
A few minutes later, he stood cocking his head this way and that, trying to judge whether or not he liked the suit.
“Well?” Gloria said. “How does it look?”
“It looks like a tux,” he said.
“Come out here so I can take a look.” He rolled his eyes, feeling like a kid shopping for back-to-school clothes with his mother. When Malcolm stepped out of the dressing room, Jose and Gloria stood side by side taking their measure of him.
“Turn around,” Gloria ordered, sliding on her glasses.
Malcolm jumped when two sets of hands groped his backside.
Her Lover's Legacy Page 5
