The Boss Next Door (Harlequin Heartwarming)

by Fox, Roz Denny

  “I don’t know, Nolan. If I get the dean’s job, I’ll have to really burn the midnight oil.” She hoped he didn’t pick up on her ambivalence.

  But Nolan wasn’t listening. His attention had flown to the man approaching from behind her. Sherry knew it was a man from the heavy tread. Nolan’s wide smile branded the person a friend. She hoped it wasn’t that obnoxious Lyle Roberts.

  Her brother stretched out his hand and stepped around Sherry. “Well, well, after hearing your name on the news, I wondered when we’d meet. You clean up pretty good, Lock.”

  Garrett didn’t take the offered hand. “I’m wracking my brain to remember what we discussed this summer. I trust you got a kick out of sharing bits of my personal history with another candidate. When can I expect it to rise up and haunt me?”

  Nolan curled his fingers back into his chest. “There’s no call to be rude, Lock. When we met, I didn’t have a clue that Sherry had aspirations of becoming a dean.”

  “That’s not surprising,” Sherry blurted. “Since you fell head over bootstraps for Emily, you haven’t been able to see the nose on your face, Nolan Campbell.”

  Ignoring his sister, Nolan turned back to Garrett. “No offense, pal, but I judged you a hundred-to-one long shot to even get an interview. What with having hair down to your shoulders and being none too clean in spite of an unplanned dip in the river.”

  Campbell might have missed the subtle message in his sister’s words that she was jealous of his impending marriage; Garrett did not. “I suppose it’s possible you didn’t know about Sherry’s plans, Campbell. Difficult to argue with a guy too blinded by love to see that his own sister’s pea-green jealous over his getting hitched.”

  “I’m no such thing,” Sherry snapped. “Who asked you to butt in, anyway?”

  “Whoa!” Laughing, Nolan held up a hand to stave off the angry pair. “I am deliriously happy, Lock.” Nolan provided Garrett with a sketch of what had happened in his life since their chance meeting on the prairie. “I’m afraid I’ll have to renege on the good luck I wished you. But if you should get the job, you’re invited to Emily’s and my wedding. Thanksgiving weekend. Hey, come even if you don’t get it.” Nolan’s grin spread from ear to ear.

  Sherry looked in amazement from one man to the other, finally adding things up as she flipped back to that foggy night in August. She didn’t much like how the score tallied. With an artist’s eye she layered Garrett Lock in the ragged trappings worn by the lunatic who’d materialized out of the fog. Run-down scruffy boots. Longer scraggly hair, as Nolan had said. A beard and...and a gun! They were one and the same man. Sherry took a step closer to Nolan, exhaling on a partially restrained gasp. For all she knew, the man was unbalanced.

  Her own brother had unwittingly led Lock straight to her.

  And who would believe her tale? Not the administrators who looked at him as if he’d hung the moon. Blindly she groped behind her for the cup of coffee she’d filled.

  Garrett saw her grab something from the table. He automatically feinted left. She’d cut her hair and dressed like a corporate executive—but this was the same madwoman who a short month ago had tried to brain him with a stick of firewood. What should he do now? He wanted this job. Needed it for Keith’s sake. But if he got it, he’d have to work with her.

  “Nolan Campbell, you’re a rat!” Sherry rounded on him. “Not one word did you breathe about meeting my victim. The guy I...fended off. Not one! You knew I was sick with worry.”

  “Well, why didn’t you mention Kruger’s retirement? I would have supported you for the deanship. Do support you. I think we should discuss this later. After we all calm down.”

  “Calm down?” She stared at one man, then the other, furious with both.

  To Garrett’s relief, Dr. Westerbrook stepped up to the podium. “Break is over,” he announced. “This is faculty members’ chance to measure each candidate against the others. You know the time allotted for questions. Candidates, on stage, please.”

  Working hard to compose his features, Garrett carefully placed Eli Aguilar between himself and the woman he’d once jokingly told Nolan Campbell he hoped never to meet in a dark alley. They’d both laughed as they parted that night. Neither so much as cracked a smile now.

  CHAPTER THREE

  IT INFURIATED GARRETT that Sherry Campbell acted as if she was the injured party and he was Jack the Ripper. He leaned around Eli to scowl at her. “I think the least you could do is apologize for hitting me.”

  “Stay away from me,” she warned, putting up a hand to ward him off.

  “Same goes,” he snapped.

  Dr. Aguilar’s head whipped first one way, then the other. “Uh...shall I move?”

  “Stay,” they both hissed.

  “All right, all right,” Eli said. “Calm down.”

  The bombardment of questions began the minute they each received a microphone. The delegate from Business stepped to the podium first.

  “Relative to your position on the joint deans’ committee, if faced with cutbacks, would you—a support buying more computers for classroom use, or b argue to spend the limited funds for women’s special interests? Sherry, you go first.”

  A setup. The School of Business Management recruited widely, attracting a large number of students, which qualified them for bushels of grants. No program on campus received more support from local business. They needed more computers like a shark needed a snowmobile, but Sherry was determined to be tactful. “Our current computer-student ratio is reportedly the highest in the state. My vote for distribution of funds would depend entirely on what other issues were on the table.”

  The delegate smirked. “I see. Dr. Aguilar, same question.”

  “I assume each request would be accompanied by adequate documentation. I’d have to carefully study all petitions before voting.” When it was apparent that Eli had said all he was going to, the delegate turned to candidate three. “What would you do, Dr. Lock?”

  “I’m pro-student, male and female. And pro-technology. I fail to see a conflict of interest.”

  Sherry glared around Eli at Lock’s Cheshire-cat grin. That answer landed the sneaky son of a gun right in the pocket of a big contingent. Throughout the audience, men visibly relaxed. Women leaned forward to give Lock a closer look.

  It might seem a small matter, but Sherry, with her background in psychology, read the body language as favorable toward the Texan. If they were playing tennis, it would be fifteen-love for Garrett.

  Business had set the tone. Sherry likened the barrage that followed to enemy fire. Lock, however, breezed through unscathed.

  Eli came out ahead during questions from Integrated Programs, and again through a grilling by Minority Affairs. It was, after all, his bailiwick.

  Overall, hands down, Lock walked away with the match. Feeling sort of shell-shocked, Sherry was glad to have the session behind her. As President Westerbrook called a halt, her main objective was to escape the crush of faculty descending on the other two candidates. Faculty knew her. Knew where she stood.

  But that was supposing the crowd aiming for Lock had any interest in discussing campus issues, she thought, running a jaundiced eye over the mob of females rushing him like a pack of hounds. Disgusted at her peers’ shameless flirting, Sherry slipped behind the blue velvet stage curtains to regroup. Even then, the curtain gaped, providing a panoramic view of those jockeying for Lock’s attention.

  Sherry sucked in her breath. The man did ooze charisma. Lock threw back his head and laughed at something a female faculty member said. Lights from the stage emphasized his lean jaw and glistened along the strong tanned column of his throat. Nolan’s earlier words skated around inside Sherry’s head. You clean up pretty good, he’d told Lock. An understatement if ever there was one.

  Chills marched up Sherry’s spine. So why h
ad Professor Lock appeared that night looking like a derelict? She didn’t know, but in all probability she did owe him an apology. She might have killed him. Would he believe she’d paced the campsite, fearful she’d done just that? Not even Nolan knew how utterly relieved she’d been when he came back with the news that his search hadn’t turned up a dead body. But that was all he’d said. If only he’d told her of his meeting with Lock, she’d have been better prepared.

  An irritating pain began to pulse behind her eyes.

  She absolutely wouldn’t permit any man to cause her a headache. Sherry charged out from behind the curtain and into the fray.

  The more Garrett charmed the faculty, the greater the pounding in Sherry’s head. She could have kissed Westerbrook’s secretary when Fern announced that it was time for the candidates to convene for lunch.

  Only fate would be so cruel as to seat Sherry directly across from Lock. Worse, he noticed her distress. Seconds after they sat, he caught her eye and murmured, “Headache? I’m not surprised. Faculty really raked us over the coals.” Unfurling his napkin, Garrett shifted his attention from Sherry to the somber interviewers filing into the room. “Here comes the SWAT team.” Lock pretended to shiver. “Or more like a convention of undertakers. Almost enough to cause second thoughts, right?”

  Sherry dropped her hands from massaging her temples. The twinkle in his blue eyes sent blood galloping through her veins. She concentrated on his shirt collar. “If you’re having second thoughts, Lock, why don’t you drop out of the race now and go back to...Huntsville?”

  A muscle at the base of his jaw tightened. She couldn’t know how close he came to saying he’d gladly leave the field to her if he could. Already he felt homesick for Texas.

  If it were up to him, Garrett would tell her what she could do with her belated motherly instincts. But his lawyer had blown that notion out of his head. He said judges believed shared custody was best for a child. Something else he said was even scarier—now that Carla was married, she might actually appear to be the better parent should Garrett press for full custody.

  His stony silence started wheels grinding inside Sherry’s head. “Maybe the team should delve into your reasons for leaving Huntsville.”

  “They’re personal,” he said, then wished he hadn’t played into her hands.

  “Ah, the term ‘personal’ covers a multitude of possibilities. We farmed a professor out on leave last year when he couldn’t keep his hands off female students. Officially he’s on sabbatical for personal reasons.”

  Garrett heard both accusation and challenge in her statement. He wadded his napkin and half rose from his chair. Never mind the place cards, he’d find a new seat. But he sank back down as interviewers pulled out chairs on either side of him. They filled the empty space between Sherry Campbell and Eli, too. He appeared oblivious to their squabbles.

  The college vice president claimed the seat to Garrett’s right. The instant the waiter left after delivering salads, Phipps turned to Garrett. “What was the dispute you had this morning with Nolan Campbell all about?”

  Fork poised over his shrimp salad, Garrett’s gaze flicked over Sherry’s tense face. He tried ducking the query with a minimal shrug. If she wanted to explain the bizarre facts, let her try. Frankly, he wouldn’t know where to start.

  The ploy didn’t work. Barnard—or “Barney”—Phipps repeated his question. People on both sides of the table put their conversations on hold to listen.

  Garrett broke a roll and calmly buttered half. “It was nothing really. We had a chance meeting this summer during the study Campbell conducted—the wagon train reenactment. We talked about this and that. I don’t know how it came up, but I mentioned that I’d applied for the dean’s position here. Campbell claimed he didn’t know Dean Kruger was leaving. Today that struck me as odd, given his sister’s candidacy.”

  “Can you answer that, Sherilyn?” The vice president switched to grilling her. “By the way, how did you manage to meet the application deadline? According to a news report, Nolan’s group returned from Santa Fe a week after the final date.”

  Sherry stiffened. “Dean Kruger dropped hints around the department about retiring. I filled out an application in advance. Is there a rule against doing that?”

  “None,” boomed Dr. Westerbrook from the head of the table. “I’d say it shows initiative. Where is this line of questioning leading, Barney? It’s clear Sherilyn was home to receive the supplement we mailed out to semifinalists.”

  Phipps twisted the stem of his water glass. “I made no secret of the fact that I thought her answers read like those of a man. And we know her original application was mailed locally.”

  What was he implying here? That she’d had some man complete her application? “That’s right,” Sherry said, trying not to sound defensive. “I asked my roommate to mail it when the position was announced. Out of curiosity—” Sherry’s grip tightened on her fork “—how do women’s answers differ from men’s? Do we get a different form?”

  “Certainly not.” Barney touched his napkin to his lips. “Everyone knows men approach problems more analytically than women.”

  “Indeed?” Sherry’s voice quivered with indignation, although she shouldn’t have been shocked by his answer. She knew Barney Phipps didn’t believe that women belonged in administration. And maybe not on the planet.

  “Books have been written on the subject, for goodness’ sake.” The floundering VP looked to the row of administrators for help. None came to his aid.

  When the silence had stretched long enough for Sherry to hear the ice in her tea melt, she decided she didn’t want a job she had to cry foul to get. “I kept all my rough drafts,” she said lightly. “Anyone know a reputable handwriting analyst?”

  “More like a good lawyer.” Lock glared first at Phipps, then at Westerbrook, who appeared unhappy with his second-in-command.

  Phipps stood. “Excuse me, I just remembered a prior engagement.” A collective sigh rose from administrators as the door closed.

  “May I remind you,” cautioned Westerbrook, “that this institution prides itself on its commitment to equal opportunity.”

  It seemed a pointless statement in light of the previous exchange. Garrett reached across the table and shackled Sherry’s wrist with a warm hand. “You know, you may have grounds to force them to give you the job.”

  She shook him off and picked up her fork. “How would you handle it?”

  His lips twitched. “Call for sabers under the dueling oaks.”

  “I thought Texans used six-guns at high noon.”

  “Sorry, I was born and raised in Louisiana.” He pronounced it Loosyanna in the slowest way.

  Sherry stabbed more salad with her fork than she could eat in one bite. Then she set the fork down, feeling a need to explain. “My method may appear passive to you. But when I started teaching here, there were no female department chairs. Now we have two. If I play by the old guard’s rules, maybe I’ll be the first woman dean.”

  Garrett leaned back. She had guts. Not a response he’d have expected from the hysterical woman he’d met on the prairie. Which one was the real Sherry Campbell?

  “Look,” Sherry said in an undertone when she caught him staring at her across the table. “I’m no wimp. I can fight in the trenches when I have to.”

  He gingerly touched two fingers to a spot above his left ear. “I can certainly attest to that.”

  “Yes, well, I do apologize,” she said stiffly. “You burst out of the fog, and...and...looked so scruffy. Then when you mentioned Huntsville, I panicked. I thought...prison.” She cleared her throat. “Perhaps if I’d seen you at your campsite the way Nolan did, things might have been different.”

  He laughed, a deep rumble from his belly. “Yeah. You’d have finished the job you started. When Nolan stumbled in, I’d shucked my wet clo
thes. He caught me buck naked, my skin blue as Babe, Paul Bunyan’s ox.”

  Sherry felt heat stealing up her neck into her cheeks. Still, it was hard not to laugh with a man capable of joking about himself. Sherry had met so few men who could do that. Except for Nolan, most of the men on campus took themselves far too seriously.

  Garrett frowned; he hadn’t meant to make her blush. That was not his style. He wasn’t looking to start anything, especially not with a woman who might end up his subordinate. More like insubordinate based on his experience so far with Professor Sherilyn Campbell. He slid her a glance and was surprised to discover her fighting a smile. So she did have a sense of humor. Garrett wouldn’t have thought it. Up till now, he’d labeled her tempestuous, if not shrewish.

  As if reading his mind, Sherry shrugged. “I’m afraid we started off on the wrong foot. Blame it on knee-jerk reactions linked to our first disastrous meeting. Truth is, you’re no chain-gang escapee and I’m not a menace to society.” Genuine contrition tinged her words. “The thought of physical abuse sickens me. I can’t explain what made me hit you after all I’ve seen and heard....” Her voice faded to a halt.

  “I believe you,” Garrett said. And he did. He’d heard the passion in her voice when she discussed the services she struggled to provide for abused women. A far greater range than those available on his campus in Huntsville. Yet if he believed the rumblings he’d heard from some faculty, several claimed that Sherilyn Campbell had a tendency to be too passionate on behalf of the Hub. That maybe she bought too readily into the women’s stories. Or had quit looking to see if there were two sides. Even her advocates feared loss of objectivity with regard to men if she became dean. Her enemies, and Garrett knew it was impossible not to make them in the academic community, said she already wore blinders. Case in point, they said: check out how negative she was on the subject of her brother’s marriage.

  As lunch wound down, Garrett decided to test the waters. “I hope Nolan rented the convention center for his wedding.”