The Boss Next Door (Harlequin Heartwarming)

by Fox, Roz Denny

  A backward wave was all she gave to let him know she’d heard.

  Garrett stood at the gate, slow to shake off the frost of yet another encounter with Dr. Campbell. As he wandered toward his front door, he mulled over the difference in the two roommates. Yvette, attractive as she was, showed the potential of draining a guy with her clingy ways. Sherilyn was the type to leave skid marks on a man’s soul. How did those two ever end up living under the same roof? They were as different as sugar and vinegar.

  Sherry had no sooner stepped through the front door than Yvette pounced.

  “What were you and Garrett talking so chummily about?”

  “A student,” Sherry said, dumping her helmet and skates in the hall closet.

  Yvette flipped her long hair out of her face. “I suppose you think having a job in common with him gives you the inside track.”

  Bending, Sherry unbuckled her bulky knee pads, tossed them into her helmet and closed the closet door with a loud bang. “Inside track to what?”

  “To dating Garrett of course. Don’t play coy with me, Sherry.”

  Sherry rolled her shoulders tiredly. “When, in all the years you’ve known me, have you seen me act coy? You’ll have plenty of competition without me if the parade of women staffers beating a path to his office door is any indication of his popularity.”

  “He’s not the type to get involved in an office romance. Living in his hip pocket is much better. When he comes home, he’ll want to relax. And I’ll make sure relaxation is synonymous with little ol’ me.”

  “You do that, Yvette. Excuse me, I’m going to take a shower.”

  “Okay. What and when is dinner?”

  Sherry stopped and turned. “It’s your night to cook, according to the calendar.”

  “You must have planned something. You didn’t know I’d be home.”

  “No, I didn’t. Whatever happened to us letting each other know about our schedules?” When Yvette didn’t answer, Sherry said, “I bought a hot dog at Gamma Sigma’s stand.”

  “Oh. Then I’ll go to the pub and grab a burger. Your turn tomorrow. Make something yummy, all right?”

  Sherry sighed. She had papers to grade tonight, but Yvette had been on the road two weeks. She was probably sick of eating out. Maybe a little compassion was in order. “How about lasagna? I bought all the stuff the other day. Lasagna and Caesar salad?”

  “Great. And peanut-butter-brownie cups for dessert?”

  “Yvette, are you all right? I can count on one hand the number of times you’ve eaten dessert with a meal.”

  “So? You baked chocolate squares and took them to work last week. You always do that. I might eat sweets if you’d ever leave any here.”

  “How do you know what I took to work last week?” Sherry asked suspiciously.

  “Garrett mentioned it.”

  Sherry was even more astounded. She hadn’t thought he’d come back to the office that day. Obviously he had. “I’m not making brownies. As it is, I’ll be up late making the lasagna for tomorrow. If you get home at a decent hour from the pub, you can fix dessert. The recipe’s in my box, and it’s simple.”

  “Like anyone would eat anything I cooked. Cooking isn’t my thing, as you well know. Even your mom gave up trying to teach me. Anyway, don’t count on me being home early tonight. All I’ve seen for two weeks are snippy clothing-department managers. After I eat I’ll probably play some pool.” She paused. “Garrett plays. But he doesn’t have a babysitter for his kid. Hey, does Emily’s daughter babysit?”

  “Megan? She’d be more apt to play pool,” Sherry said dryly. “Just don’t put any money on the game. Nolan says she’s a real shark.”

  “Well, I’ll call Emily and ask. Garrett needs to be able to come and go as he pleases. He’ll need a regular sitter.”

  Sherry thought about the unhappy little boy she’d met. Keith Lock needed more of his dad’s attention, not less. She’d thought Garrett seemed worried about his son. But if he’d indicated otherwise to Yvette, then she must have been mistaken. “I’ll likely be in bed when you get home, Yvette. Shall we have dinner at seven tomorrow?”

  “Seven-thirty? I have a trunk show for a boutique in Kansas City at noon. They’re hosting a champagne brunch to promote one of our new lingerie lines. So please walk softly in the morning. I’m sleeping until ten.”

  Nodding, Sherry stripped off her sweaty top as she walked down the hall. For a minute there she’d given a fleeting thought to going to the pub with Yvette, just to see what she was missing. But apparently pub crawlers didn’t have eight-to-five jobs. No way could she socialize and play pool until closing time and still hit the ground running first thing the next morning. It was just as well she preferred puttering around the house and left being a party animal to Yvette.

  The shower refreshed her. She hummed along with Carrie Underwood’s latest while assembling ingredients for two pans of lasagna. One to cook and one to freeze for later. Taking pity on Yvette, as she’d eaten in restaurants all week, Sherry relented and fixed a double batch of peanut-butter brownies. While they baked, she corrected papers from her first-year psych class. If the placement test was any indication, things did not bode well for this particular class. On the whole, their handwriting was bad and their spelling atrocious. Comprehension wasn’t great, either. One said Jung was a game where you stacked blocks. No one believed B. F. Skinner had raised his daughter in a box. If they hadn’t copied each other, they’d probably all flunk. Monday she’d crack down on their copying.

  Snapping off the kitchen light, Sherry checked to be sure the outside light was on for Yvette. She expected Lock’s place still to be aglow as he unpacked, but the windows were dark. Another huge difference between men and women, she mused. Most women wouldn’t go to bed until every last thing in the kitchen was in order.

  * * *

  SHERRY REFUSED to tiptoe around in the morning for Yvette’s sake. Thursdays were long full days for her, since they included counseling in the Hub. For comfort she teamed baggy linen trousers with an oversize poet’s blouse and clogs. Never one to wear much makeup, Sherry decided on none. She quickly brushed her short hair, thinking it made her look younger—or was it the mismatched earrings? Tweety on one ear, Sylvester on the other. She deliberately mismatched earrings to make students laugh. Most of the women who timidly drifted into the Hub didn’t have a whole lot of laughs in their lives. Administration preferred staff to dress more conservatively, but too bad.

  It was such a nice sunny morning that Sherry thought it’d be quieter if she took her coffee and newspaper out on the front porch. Halfway through both, a noise made her glance up. Garrett Lock stood before her looking vaguely rumpled. Hair that was usually tamed flopped over his brow. A slight stubble fuzzed his chin. Barefoot, he had on gray sweats that looked as if they’d once been washed with something red.

  “Uh...I don’t suppose you’d lend me some coffee and a filter? I found the pot, but I’ve unpacked three boxes and still no coffee. There’s no room on my counter to put anything else.”

  Sherry grinned. It did her heart good to discover his small imperfections. At the office he was a man of precision. “It’s pathetic, Lock, to hear a grown man whine. I thought you’d have every box numbered and labeled as to content.” She stood and wafted her cup in the vicinity of his nose. “Who had a fit on Monday when I couldn’t lay my hands on J. J. Perry’s incoming student record?”

  “Have a heart, Campbell. We’re talking major caffeine attack here.”

  “In that case I’d like to see some major groveling.”

  He dropped to his knees, clasped his hands and beseeched her plaintively—an action that took the wind right out of her sails. Going a step further, he leaned down and kissed her feet. Sherry jumped back and slopped coffee everywhere.

  “Stop it, you nut!” she gasped. “Wh
at if one of the neighbors sees you?”

  Grinning, he sat back on his heels. “If anyone else was up this early, hard-hearted Hannah, I’d already have a cup of java.”

  “I’ll get it. Now. Just please sit in a chair like a normal human being. I’ll be right back. Do you have a grinder or do I need to grind a batch?”

  “Juan Valdez and I have this deal. He grows coffee and then he grinds it. I buy what he exports in industrial-size cans.”

  “A real connoisseur, huh?”

  A crease dented one cheek. “Hot as Texas. Muddy as the Mississippi. A bottomless cup. My only criteria. What can I say? I have no taste.”

  “I’ll grind three batches. Should tide you over till afternoon. Just beware, after three pots of high octane, you might be hooked on the gourmet stuff.”

  “I’ll chance it.”

  Sherry was still chuckling softly as she burst into the kitchen. Seeing Yvette, hair combed, makeup on, grinding coffee beans, wiped the smile right off her face. Wasn’t she going to sleep late?

  “Run along to work, Sher. I’ll take care of Garrett’s...needs.”

  Taking in the loaded implication, Sherry let her mind hopscotch over a gamut of possibilities. Especially as Yvette wore a minuscule pair of hot-orange shorts and a top that left a great deal of midriff bare.

  Crossing her arms, Sherry propped a shoulder against the refrigerator. “That outfit’s a little obvious, don’t you think? But be my guest. He wants his coffee black.”

  “I’m obvious?” Yvette arched a carefully penciled brow. “You were giggling like a teenager and falling all over him out there.”

  Sherry straightened, extending her palms. “I offered the man three batches of ground coffee. That’s all.” She spun on her heel and marched out of the kitchen, down the hall and into her bedroom, where she just managed not to slam the door. Closing it quietly, she began shoving books and case studies into her briefcase. Then, ear to the door, she listened for Yvette to leave. After a decent interval, one long enough to ensure they’d gone to Lock’s to make coffee—and Sherry tried not to imagine what else—she hefted her briefcase and strode to her car.

  * * *

  THE DAY FLEW BY. Sherry loved counseling, even though in some cases what she provided was a Band-Aid at best. It saddened her that so many women lacked the funds to get the psychological support they needed. All who came through the Hub had one thing in common, regardless of age. They were women who’d fallen through the funding cracks. Middle-aged, divorced and suddenly dropped from hubby’s insurance. Young yet no longer eligible for care under dad’s policy. During her first years on the job, Sherry took all their problems home. But the burden was too great. After much soul-searching, she’d come to the realization that she couldn’t provide miracles. So she’d put together a strong referral system for women teetering on the edge and gave the others her undivided attention in the fifteen-minute slots allotted her. Today that meant she had to flush her mind of her roommate and her boss.

  Well after five, Sherry walked to the door with her last appointment. She’d talked so much that her throat felt raspy. Now she was glad she’d stayed up last night to prepare lasagna. As she locked up, she looked forward to unwinding; she also needed time to set up the best way to proceed with her new cases. If fate was really kind, she’d have an hour to herself before Yvette rolled in.

  Concentrating on her plans for the evening, Sherry almost didn’t see Keith Lock sitting dejectedly on his porch as she entered the courtyard. The flash of his red T-shirt caught her eye. “Keith,” she called, a smile automatic. “Are you taking a breather from unpacking boxes?”

  He raised his head from his hands and clambered slowly to his feet. “Hi,” he said, moving to the gate. “Where’s Mark and Megan? Dad said maybe they’d visit you sometime.”

  “And so they may. Probably not tonight,” she told him honestly.

  “Oh.” His shoulders bowed as he buried his hands deep in his front pockets. “Are you going skating now?” His eyes brightened momentarily.

  Sherry’s muscles still protested after last night’s rigorous workout. “Sounds like you found the box with your skates. Maybe your dad will take you to the park later.”

  “He’s too busy. He said for me not to bug you, either. But I thought if you were going, I could maybe tag along. I skate pretty good,” he added.

  Sherry gazed into the hopeful blue eyes and saw her plans for a relaxing evening disappear. “As a matter of fact, I did plan a short turn around the trails. Give me fifteen minutes to change, throw together a salad and stick a casserole in the oven. Meanwhile, you make sure it’s okay with your dad.”

  “It is,” Keith said confidently, bestowing her with a gap-toothed grin that altered his appearance to that of a normal happy-go-lucky kid.

  Striding off after an involuntary smile in return and a quick glance at her watch, Sherry rushed by Alicia Jones, her beautician neighbor, with barely a nod.

  “Did you just come from Garrett’s?” The statuesque woman caught Sherry’s sleeve with her long curving purple fingernails.

  Puzzled, Sherry shook loose. “No. His son, Keith, was outside. Why?”

  The woman waved a bakery bag. “I bought extra corn muffins and thought I’d be a good-doobie neighbor. Lorraine,” she said, referring to the flight attendant from another unit, “already dropped off a gelatin salad. I mean, really—gelatin’ll hardly appeal to a Texan. Everyone knows they have big appetites.” She patted her hair.

  “Mm.” Sherry narrowly managed to suppress a chuckle. “Gotta run. I have my own dinner to pop in the oven.”

  “What are you taking Garrett? Sweet potato pie, I’ll bet. You’re such a good cook it’s not fair to the rest of us.” The woman pouted.

  Sherry lost the battle and did laugh. “I’m not taking him anything. I figure he can do like everyone else who moves—order in Chinese.” Leaving her neighbor looking perplexed, Sherry went inside.

  Keith was sitting on her porch when she came out fifteen minutes later.

  “Hey, those are classy red skates,” she said. “You have a helmet and pads for knees and elbows?”

  He held them up one at a time for her inspection.

  “Okay, sport. And you told your dad we’ll be back after one turn around the park?”

  “Yep. He’s busy tryin’ to get rid of another dippy woman. They’ve been comin’ round all afternoon with food.”

  “They’re called housewarming gifts, Keith. A welcome from the neighbors.”

  He slanted her a sidelong glance through indecently thick sooty lashes. “When my gramma phoned, she said they’re women who think Dad’ll marry them.”

  “How old are you, Keith?” Sherry asked, placing a hand on his shoulder to guide him across the street.

  “Almost nine. Well, I’ll be nine in January.”

  They stopped at the park bench to change into their skates. Sherry showed Keith how to knot his sneaker shoelaces to carry them around his neck. Then she asked a question that was really none of her concern—and blamed the fact that it’d slipped out on her having been in counselor mode all day. “Are you hoping your mom and dad will get back together, Keith?”

  He stumbled a little and she put out a hand to steady him. “Nah. Mom just married Crawford. He don’t know nothin’ ’bout kids. And he smells prissy. Dad says it’s ’cause he’s president of a bank. I don’t like going there, but Dad says I gotta.”

  “Oh.” Sherry’s heart beat faster. She had judged Garrett wrong; apparently he was neither obsessed with his former wife nor trying to get her back.

  The path that wound through the trees grew steeper, and they were both panting. Talk died down until they reached the hot-dog stand. Sherry dug out money for bottled water for herself and fruit juice for Keith. He wanted a hot dog. “Too close to dinner,” she said
.

  “Sheesh. You sound just like dad.”

  Sherry laughed. The girls running the stand asked veiled questions about Sherry’s new buddy. She introduced him as the new dean’s son, then wished she hadn’t because she saw speculation in the students’ eyes.

  “I wish you had kids,” Keith mumbled after they’d deposited their containers in the trash and started along the trail again. “There aren’t any kids here to play with.”

  “I know. It’s too bad,” she said sympathetically. “The people who moved out of the house you’re in had two girls about your age.”

  “Dad won’t even let me get a puppy. He said the Homeowners’ Association rules say no pets.”

  “That’s right. But my brother has a dog and so do my folks. If your dad doesn’t object, one of these days I’ll take you to play with them.”

  “That’d be cool...but you’ll prob’ly forget.”

  “I won’t,” Sherry said fiercely, her heart squeezing with pity for the child who’d so obviously been disappointed a lot in his young life.

  “Mom was s’pose to take me to see a paddle-wheel boat on the Mississippi this weekend,” he said listlessly. “She phoned this morning and said she can’t ’cause of a party she and Crawford got invited to. Dad was ticked off. I told him it didn’t matter, but he yelled at her, anyway.”

  Sherry skated on in silence. She recalled the remark Garrett made at the mall when they met for lunch, about how Carla made promises she didn’t keep. Still she felt honorbound to stand up for the woman she’d never met. “I’m sure your mother feels bad, too,” Sherry ventured, not sure at all but guessing, based on the women she counseled. Jobs too often dictated a single mom’s schedule. Keith’s mother had remarried, but that was recent. And maybe her new husband was to blame for this current situation.

  “Yeah.” Keith shrugged as he plopped down on the bench where they’d sat to don their skates. “I had fun tonight,” he said shyly. “Can we do this again?”