The Boss Next Door (Harlequin Heartwarming)

by Fox, Roz Denny

  As Angel slapped the opened mail on the desk in front of Sherry, she said, “A yard or two more of that orange silk would have made a nice skirt.” She hovered on the balls of her feet, scowling fiercely.

  Sherry ran a hand through her gel-spiked hair. “Did I miss something? When I came in this morning, didn’t you say, and I quote, ‘Those are some hot threads, boss.’”

  Angel widened her huge velvety eyes. “That was before.”

  “Before what?” Sherry rocked back in her desk chair to peer critically at the offending article.

  “Before our top dog licked his lips as you strolled past like...like you were the feast at his last supper.” Making a show of inspecting her glossy nails, she added, “And before I went for coffee and heard about your wild weekend. Guess it’s not true what they say in country songs—that Texans have slow hands.”

  Once Sherry got her chin up off her knees, she folded her hands on her desk and asked Angel to sit. “Now then—exactly what did you hear and from whom?”

  Angel plunked down in the chair. “Those blabber mouth clerks in accounting said your roommate caught you in a compromising spot with you know who.” She shrugged. “They said some other stuff, too.”

  “Like what?” Sherry clasped her hands tighter. Yvette certainly hadn’t wasted time spreading her dirt. The secretary to the accounting department chair was the best bet as to source. Lena Martin partied with Yvette’s crowd and loved to gossip.

  “If you deny it all, I’ll hand their heads back on platters.”

  “That’s a gruesome thought. No. We will not lower ourselves to their level. Nothing throws a monkey wrench into a rumor mill faster than no response.”

  “So it’s true?” Angel climbed to her feet. “Men are no good. Haven’t I taught you anything, boss?”

  “Some men are good.” Sherry’s voice rose sharply. “You had two bad experiences, Angel. Now, you can choose to cloister yourself or you can venture into relationships more slowly, benefiting from wisdom gained.”

  “You’ve tumbled big time for the dude, huh?”

  Sherry hoped her face wasn’t as red as it was hot. “To work, Angel. We weren’t discussing me.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  Sherry cut in quickly. “What happened is nothing like they’re trying to make out. Yvette has her nose out of joint. The rumors are a result of a tiff we had.”

  “Girlfriends like that you can do without. It’ll be hard, but if you insist, I’ll bite my tongue.”

  “I insist.”

  But as it turned out, quelling the rumors wasn’t so simple. It didn’t help that at ten minutes to five her phone rang and Garrett, in a dither, asked her to pick up Keith from his new day care.

  Sherry glanced at her watch, then at the pile of dictation she’d barely managed to cut in half. Injecting enthusiasm into her voice, she said, “Sure. Did you clear me with the powers that be? I don’t want to be accused of kidnapping.”

  “I did give them your name,” he admitted, “at Keith’s insistence. Would you believe I swore I wouldn’t foist any more of my problems on you? I even called Carla, foolishly thinking she’d jump at the chance for extra time with him. She claims she wants to see more of him—but on her terms, I guess.”

  “That’s too bad. So...will she give Rags a home if no one claims him?”

  The line crackled in her ear with each breath he took. “No dice, huh?” she asked lightly.

  “Not an option.” Garrett didn’t elaborate.

  Reading between the lines, Sherry figured he and Carla must have had harsh words. She felt sorrier for Keith. After all her years of counseling women involved in broken relationships, she still naively hoped the adults could set differences aside when it came to doing what was best for their children.

  “Our break is over,” he said into the silence. “Are you positive you’re all right with this? They sprang this late session on us without warning. I could skip out, but I get the feeling they’re waiting to see if I do. Like this is a test.”

  “Probably. And the departments of the people who can’t stay will suffer. Keith and I will get along fine. Don’t worry. His bedtime is eight-thirty? Are there other rules I should know?”

  “The only one I can think of is no dessert if he doesn’t at least try everything on his plate. I suppose I should set more rules. Basically I’m pretty laid-back.”

  “For kids that’s better than being uptight. Oh, one other thing—I assume Keith has a house key?”

  “No. There hasn’t been any reason for him to carry one. Look, I’m just downstairs in Frank’s office. I’ll run my key up to you. There’s a spare in the kitchen junk drawer. If you two go anywhere, leave one under the front doormat for me in case the meeting breaks up early.”

  “Now that’s original.” She laughed. “First place burglars look, I hear.”

  “I don’t have time to be creative. See you in a minute. And Sherilyn, thanks. I never had to call an agency sitter in Huntsville. I may have to consider it here.” He hung up, but she held the receiver against her cheek for a moment, hoping to stretch the tingle of warmth that always accompanied the way he said her name.

  Stupid. Dropping the receiver like a hot rock, she got busy locking away the student files that still needed counseling reports. She removed the tape from her machine, then carried it and the records she’d completed into the outer office to leave with Angel. She was still in the process of giving the secretary instructions when Garrett dashed through the door.

  Sherry’s heart flopped around inside her chest. She wished it would stop doing that every time he appeared.

  Rushed though he was, Garrett took a minute to thank Angel for giving up her morning break to run copies of the data he’d needed from Sherry’s department for today’s meeting. Angel shrugged, but Sherry saw she was pleased. Kruger always made last-minute demands and never thanked anyone. Sherry’s respect for Garrett climbed. Angel’s self-esteem was higher than when she’d entered the program, but there was a long way to go. The verbal abuse she’d suffered at the hands of both husbands and her dad had taken its toll. The young woman didn’t expect much from men and was rarely disappointed unfortunately.

  Sherry tried to convey her appreciation in the ardent smile she sent him.

  Smiling back, Garrett pulled a key ring from his pocket and fiddled with a key until he worked it free. When he’d entered the office, Sherry and Angel had been the only occupants. Three women staffers noticed him as they walked by the department, then hurried in, full of titters.

  Sherry knew all three had designs on Garrett. She groaned inwardly, thinking he’d never get back to his meeting if they waylaid him.

  Garrett glanced up and saw them bearing down on him just as the key popped free. He shoved it into Sherry’s hand and was already in motion to leave by the time the three reached him. He straightened his tie, gave them a lopsided smile and a quick salute as he hastened toward the door. “I’m late for a budget meeting,” he said, cutting off their requests. “I only stopped by to give my house key to Sherilyn.”

  Four pair of stupefied eyes swerved toward Sherry while Garrett blithely slipped out of the department, leaving her with the evidence dangling in her hand.

  She’d kill him. Murder him with her bare hands. The censure in the ring of faces surrounding her was almost more than she could bear, and she attempted to exonerate herself with the truth. “I, ah, I’m babysitting his son while he’s at the budget talks.” Her feeble words fell on stiff backs and deaf ears. Her three colleagues took a hike.

  “Babysitting?” Angel scowled blackly.

  “It’s the truth.” Sherry spread her hands.

  A sunny smile rearranged Angel’s pretty features. “That’s too hokey to be a lie. I believe you, boss.”

  One of Sherry’s dark brows lifted slightl
y. “Yippee! A fourth of the rumors squelched.”

  “I see your point.” Angel shut off her computer. “What was he thinking?”

  “That he was late for his meeting,” Sherry said wryly, realizing it was true. He’d be livid when he heard the gossip. And he’d never recall feeding it.

  Angel snapped her fingers. “Go get the kid and parade him through campus. Take him to the cafeteria for supper. Introduce him around.”

  “The cafeteria? Oh, good plan. He’d get ptomaine poisoning, the dean would have me thrown in jail, then the rumors about me shacking up with Garrett wouldn’t matter anymore.”

  “Okay, no cafeteria. How about the Haywire Hamburger?”

  “Angel, you’re a genius. I’ve always said they misnamed that place. They should have called it the Rumor Mill. Only...I so seldom go there, people might get the opposite idea. You know, that I was flaunting my relationship with Keith’s dad.” She made quote marks in the air.

  “My kids love to eat there. We’d go with you, but it’s too close to payday for me.”

  “I’ll treat you. Keith’s the same age as your oldest son. Please, Angel.”

  “You don’t have to twist my arm. It’ll take me about half an hour to pick them up from the sitter’s and drive there.”

  “Done. It won’t save my reputation entirely, but it’s bound to help.”

  “Yeah. And when the man gets home, explain the facts of life on this campus.”

  Facts of life. The phrase played in Sherry’s head over the course of the evening. A man like Garrett Lock probably wrote the facts of life. Wrote and tested. Sherry’s mind kept drifting toward areas that were off-limits. Not really off-limits, but certainly dangerous. About the third time Angel had to draw her back from imagining exactly how it would feel to be in Garrett’s arms, Sherry scrubbed the thoughts away. She concentrated on showing Keith a good time.

  “That was a blast,” he said as they climbed into Sherry’s car after saying goodbye to Angel and her boisterous brood. “I’m glad you picked me up. Me’n Dad never do anything fun anymore.”

  “It’s hard starting a new job, Keith.”

  “Yeah, I guess. I saved part of my hamburger for Rags. Can we take it to him?”

  “Sure, sport. Then it’s home to bed with no stops.” She reached over and ruffled his hair. “You don’t have homework, do you?”

  He leaned back, checking her out with a mischievous smile. “I got a book in my backpack that I’m s’pose to read ’fore I go to bed.”

  “Really? Why am I just hearing about this now, tiger?”

  “’Cause I wanted to go eat burgers. And I wanna see Rags.”

  His honesty blew her lecture out of the water. “Fair enough.” She smiled wryly. “I should have asked earlier about homework. Tomorrow I’ll be smarter.”

  “You gonna pick me up tomorrow? Yay!”

  “I’m only assuming your father has meetings all week. Before you get too excited, we’d better find out if he’s made other plans.”

  “I guess you got more important stuff to do than hang out with a kid, huh?”

  “Oh, no, Keith. But it’s your dad’s decision. He said he may call a professional sitter.”

  Keith’s shoulders slumped. “Jason at my old day care said those sitters are meaner ’n’ snakes. I like you ’cause you call me sport and tiger, and you’re nice to dogs and you mess up my hair,” he said shyly, slanting a glance through thick dark lashes.

  Thrown once again by his candor, she didn’t know how to respond. They’d already reached her parents’ house, so she said nothing, just fell to brooding.

  Emily noticed her moodiness and remarked on it after Nan had finished measuring Sherry for her maid-of-honor dress. “Something’s bothering you, Sher. I know you feel I double-crossed you, falling for Nolan the way I did on the heels of announcing I’d never marry again. But...people change.” She made a fist of her right hand and placed it over her heart. “Hearts change. I love him, Sherry. I’ll spend a lifetime making him happy. I didn’t ask him to pay the debt I owed my ex-in-laws. He insisted.”

  Sherry unfurled the cloth tape measure she’d been folding around her fingers and paced the sewing room, letting it whip like a flag in the wind. “I’m not blind, Em. I see how happy both of you are. Megan and Mark are thrilled, too.” She paused, frowning. “Aren’t you the teeniest bit afraid? What if things change again and your feelings for each other don’t last?”

  Emily studied her friend. “Are we still talking about Nolan and me, Sherry?” she asked softly.

  Sherry’s pacing grew more erratic. “I feel life as I know it slipping away. Keith...Rags... I’m getting too involved.”

  “Mmm. And with Keith’s dad?”

  “No.” Sherry made a slicing movement with her hand.

  Rising from the chair that sat in front of the sewing machine, Emily matched her steps to Sherry’s. “I fought the attraction between Nolan and me. I had a hundred excuses why a relationship was a bad idea. Loving someone is risky. But what’s the alternative? Spending a lifetime alone and lonely, that’s what.”

  “I’m not lonely.” Sherry recognized the falseness of the statement before the last word died away. “And if I am sometimes? I’ll join groups and take more classes.”

  Emily gazed at her sadly. “How many hours a day can you stay on a treadmill?”

  Unwilling to accept the truth of Emily’s statement, Sherry bolted for the door. Once there, she waggled her left arm, pointing at her watch. “I have to get Keith home, Em. Eight-thirty’s his bedtime. I have papers to grade and a test to set up before tomorrow.”

  “Stepping up the tempo, Sher?” Emily trailed her down the hall. “It’s all right to let yourself like a man. Not all of them bite.”

  Sherry closed her ears and made a lot of unnecessary noise as she rounded Keith up. He didn’t want to leave Rags. Getting out the door was a slow process, further impeded by Nan.

  “We’re barbecuing chicken tomorrow night,” she said. “Why don’t you bring Keith for dinner? That way he’ll have all evening to spend with Rags.”

  It was on the tip of Sherry’s tongue to refuse. But the boy’s obvious delight had her mumbling acceptance. “If his dad has another late meeting,” she qualified.

  “If he doesn’t,” Emily piped up, “invite him, too. The more, the merrier.”

  Sherry knew exactly what had inspired Emily’s invitation, and she had no intention of passing it on to Garrett.

  Keith chattered like a parrot all the way home. “Can I check the answering machine?” he asked the minute Sherry opened the door. “I hafta see if anybody’s claiming Rags.”

  “Shouldn’t you let your dad handle that?” Sherry didn’t want to be the one dealing with the boy’s broken heart if an owner had called.

  “Please,” he begged.

  “All right.”

  The phone rang as Keith reached for the machine. His face paled. “Maybe that’s someone now.”

  Sherry grabbed for the phone on the third ring. “Or maybe it’s your dad,” she hissed. “Hello,” she said, sounding out of breath. “Hello,” she said a second time into the silence. Then she covered the mouthpiece. “It’s your mom, Keith. She wants to talk to you. Here—take the phone.”

  “Hi, Mom,” he said without exuberance. “That’s Sherry. Dad’s at a meeting. I don’t know how late he’ll be. Here.” He extended the receiver to Sherry. “She wants to talk to you.”

  “Me?” Puzzled, Sherry put the receiver to her ear. “I’m the sitter, yes.” She grimaced at the woman’s frosty tone. “I think I can take a message,” she said dryly, torn between telling Carla she had her Ph.D. or acting as if she was half a bubble off plumb—the airhead Carla judged her to be. In the end Sherry opted for coolly professional, knowing from experience that even aft
er ex-wives remarried, they often felt proprietorial when it came to their ex-husbands. “You want Dean Lock to bring Keith to St. Louis this weekend? You’ll expect him by 10:00 a.m. Saturday because you’re planning a trip to the Mercantile Money Museum. I have that. I’ll let him know to call you.” Sherry turned away from Keith, who was saying “ick” and “yuck,” so his mother wouldn’t hear him. “The Magic House is more fun for kids Keith’s age,” Sherry found herself recommending. “Or the Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer cruises. I know Keith’s been looking forward to seeing a stern-wheeler.”

  Sherry winced at the former Mrs. Lock’s immediate putdown. “You’re right, it isn’t my place to make suggestions. Goodbye.” Sherry started to slam the phone down, then thinking better of it, set it gently in the cradle.

  “I don’t wanna go to any stupid money museum,” the boy muttered. “I’m gonna tell Dad I’d rather stay home and play with Rags.”

  “The museum isn’t so bad, Keith. The history of money is interesting. And you get to see counterfeit currency.”

  “What’s that?” He wrinkled his nose.

  “I’ll let your dad explain,” Sherry told him. Eight was a little young to have much interest in money other than for spending. “See if there’re any messages on the answering machine and then get ready for bed. If you hurry you can read me the book you brought from school.”

  “Dad bought me a book about Hercules. Will you read it after I finish mine, Sherry?”

  Again she didn’t know if she was overstepping her bounds. What if Garrett had bought the book specifically to read to his son himself? She mumbled something noncommittal.

  They were both relieved to discover no messages except for one from Garrett, saying he thought he’d be home by ten. He sounded weary.

  While Keith showered and put on his pajamas, Sherry wrote a lengthy note explaining Carla’s call and left it on the counter.

  Garrett got home early, it turned out. Keith was curled beside Sherry on his bed in the loft room when Garrett let himself in and called out a greeting. Keith had read all of his storybook from school and now Sherry was reading aloud.