The Boss Next Door (Harlequin Heartwarming)

by Fox, Roz Denny

  “Why?” Sherry pushed her dessert cup away. “Are you in favor of elaborate weddings?”

  “No, but from the sound of it, everyone on campus plans to attend.”

  “Probably.”

  That didn’t leave much of an opening for further discussion. Garrett backed off. What was he after, anyway? He’d never met the prospective bride. And he certainly wasn’t a walking advertisement for a long and happy marriage.

  Sherry stood up. “I’d advise a run to the men’s room. If you think faculty hit hard, wait till the students strike. They have so little control over what happens on campus, these forums afford them the illusion of power.”

  “Are you always such a cynic?”

  “A cynic?” Sherry raised a brow. “More like a realist. Student concerns rank low on the academic totem pole. That’s fact.”

  Garrett eyed Sherry as she set her course for the door. Her suit today was gunmetal gray. Silk, he thought, and soft enough to allow fluid movement. She had nice legs. Mouth suddenly dry, Garrett darted a guilty glance around the table and discovered his weren’t the only appreciative eyes glued to Professor Campbell. Why not? Looking didn’t hurt, did it? Crumpling his napkin, he adjusted his new Brooks Brothers tie. Garrett sure hoped it impressed the team members, because it had cost what he considered an outrageous amount of money. Not only that, it was choking him.

  Man, he hated ties. He could almost believe what a friend said, that they’d been designed by a woman bent on torturing men. He had to smile. That was the reverse of Carla’s complaint about panty hose—muttered as she hung them wet on every surface in their minuscule bathroom. He recalled weaving his way through a sea of nylon to reach his shaving gear. Thinking back, Garrett guessed he hadn’t minded so much.

  Guiltily he caught himself up short. It’d been ages since he reminisced fondly about any aspect of his life with Carla. That cracker-box-size apartment was all they could afford on a first-year instructor’s salary. More materialistic than he, Carla had wanted to drop out of school and work so they could get a bigger place. He’d insisted she finish her degree and encouraged her to go for an MBA. Then their method of birth control failed, and Keith was born before Carla graduated from the master’s program.

  Catering staff cleaned the table around him. Lost in memories, Garrett recalled begging Carla to take a year off. She’d refused. As a result, he’d spent more and more time juggling his job with domestic chores. Which delayed his receiving tenure. Then Carla became obsessed with banking, and that was the beginning of the end of their marriage.

  “Dr. Lock.”

  Garrett roused himself as President Westerbrook called his name. He glanced around, surprised to find he was the only one still seated.

  “Did Dr. Campbell leave that sour look on your face?”

  Garrett smiled. “She said I’d be smart to hit the men’s room before our meeting with the students. I’m weighing the pros and cons.”

  “Hmpf. Nothing students love more than extracting their pound of flesh from faculty and administrators.”

  “Will you be there?”

  “Are you kidding? Avoiding confrontations with students is ritual with me. Each crop is more inventive than the last. Brr!” He clapped Garrett on the back, pointed him toward the men’s room, then took off in the opposite direction.

  Garrett arrived last of the three candidates. He noticed students who wore buttons that read Minority Affairs had Eli boxed into a corner. Professor Campbell gestured with a diet soda while chatting with some tough-looking women. Two were tattooed. At least two more were pregnant and in dire need of maternity clothes. Garrett felt a stab of sympathy. They looked so young. One of his first published papers had been titled Babies Having Babies. Something he liked about Wellmont’s disadvantaged women’s work-study program was that it provided parenting classes and a semester on nutrition. Also one on money management. Whole-life training was a concept few campuses embraced. Garrett wondered if Sherilyn had done any follow-up studies. If they made him dean, he’d suggest it.

  A beanpole of a girl with wire-rimmed glasses blew a whistle to gain everyone’s attention. Laughter and talk subsided. After introducing herself as student-body president, she read off several names. Those students went to stand beside her.

  “We have some concerns that aren’t being addressed now,” the student president said. “Naturally we’re interested in learning how each of you feel before we give our input to the interview team. Dr. Aguilar, if you’ll respond first, followed by Dr. Lock and Dr. Campbell.”

  An angelic young woman with blond hair that brushed the waistband of her jeans took the mike. “Two years ago condom dispensers were installed in the men’s rest rooms on campus. Administration won’t even discuss placing them in ours. We want them. Where do you stand on this issue?”

  Eli’s skin turned splotchy red all the way to his bald spot. “I, ah, I’d have to see the statements already submitted. And there’s cost to be considered.”

  All eyes shifted to Garrett. “It should be a line item in the dean of students’ budget package. For men and women,” he said without hesitation.

  The dean of students vaulted from his chair, clearly agitated. “Last year, to kick off National Condom Week, our health department provided packets of condoms to put in campus newspapers. The students stapled the packets inside. Not only did I have to deal with their blunder, but parents who saw the paper were outraged to think we’d condone promiscuity on this campus.”

  Sherry faced him. “Harold, our mission is to teach. Shouldn’t we teach responsibility?”

  “A student’s sexual activity is not our business, Professor Campbell. If anything, we should promote abstinence.”

  “So,” Sherry said softly, “are we removing the dispensers from the men’s lavatories? Or is it just women you’re saying should abstain?”

  Garrett hid a smile behind his hand as Harold’s eyes bugged out. Then the dean abruptly got up and stalked from the room.

  After that, the questions switched to academics. Students complained that faculty refused to give make-up exams. They claimed to need more night classes. Lively discussion ensued over the cancellation of a popular yearly conference called Women’s Vision, Power and Potential.

  All three candidates agreed those were requests worthy of a second look. By four o’clock they were ready to call it a day.

  The minute they cleared the building, Garrett stripped off his suit jacket and loosened his tie. “Want a lift to the hotel, Eli? I drove my own vehicle today.”

  “Sure. I hope my wife’s amenable to room service, this evening. I only want to hibernate.”

  “How about you, Doc?” Garrett turned to Sherry and said unexpectedly, “I’ll spring for dinner at your favorite bar and grill, and even throw in dessert.”

  “Sorry, I already have plans.” Sherry didn’t, but the thought of accompanying him to some dim smoky pub caused her to break out in a cold sweat.

  Garrett slung his coat carelessly over one shoulder. The offer had again sneaked out. For a minute there, he’d forgotten she lived with some fancy dude.

  Sherry watched his shoulders slump in spite of the casual wave he tossed when they reached the fork in the path separating staff and visitor parking. She almost said she’d reconsidered his offer. Then because Garrett and Eli struck up a conversation, she kept going, pretending to search her purse for her car keys.

  * * *

  IF THE CANDIDATES believed they’d been raked over coals by the students, the individual interviews with the team were even tougher.

  “Whew!” Garrett exclaimed as the three met again after their sessions. “Anybody who thinks deans are just figureheads ought to go through the interview process. From the questions, you’d think these guys were building a dynasty.”

  “Keep the sense of humor, Lock,” Sher
ry said around a chuckle. “Wait’ll the barracudas from the business community chew you up and spit you out.”

  And she was right. Townspeople vetting the candidates appeared innocent enough with their flashy rings and flashier smiles. Turned out each had a private agenda. All operated on the premise of “Scratch my back if you want endowments.” At the end of the coffee hour, the candidates felt worked over by a battering ram.

  Later, on their way out the door, Eli shook his head. “Am I such a babe in the woods? Deans here spend half their time politicking and the other half fund-raising.”

  Garrett, looking the least frazzled, shrugged. “Where I work now, fund-raising falls to the assistant dean. Yours truly.” He gave a mock bow. “I try to take it in stride. Hey, it keeps the job from getting boring.”

  Sherry shouldered her purse. “Thankfully the wait’s almost over. May the best man win. Or woman,” she added cheekily, swinging down the path toward her car.

  “My kids will be happy if I lose,” Aguilar announced unexpectedly to Garrett as they watched her angle between the rows. “The oldest one says he won’t leave California. What about your son?”

  “He’s bummed about leaving his friends. But this job puts us closer to his mother.”

  “I see. Well, if you get the nod, watch your back. I hear the current Women’s Studies chairperson tends to blame men for all domestic discord.”

  “How so?” A little surprised by Eli’s uncharacteristic remark, Garrett watched Sherry disappear from sight.

  “Haven’t you heard that Campbell’s a man-eater? I’m not sure I could work with her,” Eli said.

  “Mm,” was Garrett’s only response. “Shall we go? I need to call my son before I dress for tonight’s slaughter. He’s staying with one of his friends in Huntsville. He doesn’t like my being gone this long. I’d hate to miss touching base.”

  Eli thrust his hands in his pockets and fell in beside Garrett.

  * * *

  SHERRY MADE SURE she arrived early for the banquet. She’d dressed carefully for this event in basic black linen. Her only adornments were her grandmother’s pearls and the discreet pearl studs at her ears. Strappy heels and a patent-leather evening bag completed her ensemble. As she entered the banquet room and stepped into a sea of chiffon and glittering sequins worn by the regents’ wives, she felt drab. She should have known they’d put on the dog. Oh, well. She didn’t have sequins and chiffon in her wardrobe.

  Taking care to skirt the knots of people already deep in conversation, she turned down an offer of champagne and requested ginger ale. Tonight’s interrogation would be subtle. If she hoped to win, her answers needed to sparkle. Wandering around the table, Sherry noticed that her place card sat between the other two candidates’. She didn’t want to sit next to Garrett Lock. He muddied her thinking.

  The minute no one was looking, she switched her card with that of Eli’s wife. Twice. Each time someone put it back. Afraid of discovery, she gave up and decided to bite the bullet.

  The three candidates didn’t meet until they were seated for dinner. Eli wore tweed over a sweater vest. His wife was elegant in green satin. Lock had on a notch-collared tuxedo with a houndstooth checked tie and matching cummerbund. His stomach was so flat not even one pleat on his cummerbund bunched when he sat. As soon as he took his seat beside her, a light clean tantalizing scent that Sherry couldn’t quite place tickled her nose.

  Garrett and Eli both asked the waiter for a drink.

  “I’ll stick with water,” Sherry told the waiter as she let the talk flow around her. To her surprise the topic under discussion was gold-panning.

  “You don’t do it to get rich,” Garrett said, bumping Sherry’s arm as he swirled the ice in his glass. “’Scuse me,” he murmured before returning to the conversation. “I look at gold-panning as a chance to spend time with my son while teaching him to appreciate the environment.”

  “Three cheers for that old male fire-in-the-belly, let’s-commune-with-nature routine,” Sherry quipped. “Definitely not the polished academician you see here. Give Lock a tent in the wilds and he becomes the outlaw Josie Wales. I know.”

  “So you met Garrett this summer, too?” President Westerbrook smiled at Sherry, then turned to Garrett. “Did Sherilyn look like herself, I wonder?”

  Garrett’s gaze shifted, inching slowly over her slender frame. He said nothing.

  Sherry feigned interest in the soup the waiter had just brought. She’d said enough already. Maybe too much. Clearly the men at the table envied Garrett’s footloose lifestyle. And the women—the women, hooked on his slow Southern drawl—imagined what it’d be like to spend time alone with him in the wilds. Sherry dipped her spoon in her soup, only to have her arm jostled again by Garrett.

  “Sorry,” he said. “Banquet seating is a curse when you’re left-handed.”

  Sitting next to him was a curse. Throughout the main course their arms constantly brushed, making Sherry all too aware of his broad shoulders. Worse, a member of the interview team asked Sherry’s opinion on the proposed raise in tuition. Right in the middle of her answer, Garrett’s leg accidentally bumped hers, and her mind blanked. She completely lost her train of thought, and as a result, she broke off lamely, prompting a row of elevated eyebrows.

  With delivery of the main course, questions to the candidates turned personal. From living all her life in a city with more than one institution of higher learning, Sherry knew that during these interviews no area of a candidate’s life was sacred.

  Garrett appeared dumbfounded when a team member inquired about the details of his divorce. “We split over six years ago,” he muttered. “I see no relevance. My ex-wife is remarried.”

  “You told Sheldon’s wife that your boy lives with you, Lock. Our deans often meet early in the morning or late into the evening. Will child care be a problem?”

  Garrett stared at the speaker, his right hand squashing his napkin.

  Sherry didn’t know why she should resent the invasion of his privacy, but she did. “Our women’s crises center, the Hub, is something of an authority on local child care,” she put in smoothly. “We have a whole rack of brochures.” Her response seemed to satisfy team members. They tossed the next barbed question at Eli.

  “Thanks,” whispered Garrett, scooting his chair closer to Sherry. “I guess I haven’t thought ahead to child care. I had no idea they’d ask anything like that.”

  “Why would you? It’s a question working mothers get asked. A woman thinks of her family first. A man thinks of his job.”

  “Now wait just a minute. You don’t know me well enough to make snap judgments.”

  Sherry snatched her dessert spoon and made craters in the chocolate mousse a waiter set in front of her. She glanced around to see who’d heard, already regretting the childish display of temper.

  Several sets of eyes were trained on her and Lock. Sherry squirmed in her chair. Her elbow and Garrett’s made contact. She jerked aside, knocking over a newly topped-up water glass. The contents, ice included, were dumped in Garrett’s lap.

  “Oh, no!” She lunged for the glass and in so doing, upset his water goblet, too. She fluttered about, sopping up water with her napkin until Garrett grabbed her hand and said tersely, “That’s enough!”

  Sherry dragged the dripping square of linen to her breast. Gulping, she realized everyone but the three candidates—and President Westerbrook—had fled the table.

  Eyes flinty, Garrett rose and shook ice onto the floor. “It seems Dr. Campbell has found a way to clear the field. Excuse me,” he said. “Dinner was delightful. I trust someone will call my hotel with the results.”

  Before Sherry could deny knocking over the glasses on purpose, he vanished.

  Folding her napkin with shaking fingers, she reached under her chair for her purse. “It was an accident,” she stated
firmly. “And it isn’t fair to go on without him.”

  College administrators and team members huddled for a moment. “We probably have sufficient information to make a decision,” Sheldon March announced. “Sherilyn, you and Eli may leave. We’ll poll the team and I’ll call everyone later.”

  Summarily dismissed, Sherry wrestled with a sick feeling as she slunk out a back door. It was probably petty, but she hated the thought of receiving that call tonight. By tomorrow the results would be on local TV. She could wait for the bad news.

  Yvette was still out of town, so once Sherry reached the safety of her home, she turned off the phone and her cell and went straight to bed.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  REPEATED POUNDING on Sherry’s front door dragged her from a sound sleep. “All right, all right. I’m coming,” she shouted, stumbling around the dark room searching for her robe and slippers. Her heart skittered wildly. People just didn’t knock on her door in the middle of the night. Giving up on the slippers, still struggling to get one arm in the robe’s sleeve, she hopped barefoot across the cold slab of entryway granite and tried to see through the peephole who was making such a racket.

  Her parents. Panic made Sherry forget the sleeve as she worked to release the chain with fingers that shook. “What’s wrong?” she cried, at last throwing open the door. “Did something happen to Nolan? Oh, no. Not Emily or the kids?”

  “Nothing like that, dear.” Her mother stepped inside and gently thrust Sherry’s arm through the empty sleeve. “We were worried about you. Sheldon March phoned. He said he’d been trying to reach you since ten. He thought you might be at our house. We tried you, too. When it was after midnight and still no answer, well, your father and I thought we’d better check.”

  “We know you’re an adult,” said her father gruffly. “But it’s not like you to stay out all night. So we got worried. Not even our community is exempt from nut cases.”

  Sherry smiled to assure them she wasn’t angry. However, she only listened with half an ear. Would March bother her folks to deliver bad news? She shivered against a cool night breeze.