“The little girl,” Nancy said, not quite meeting Leslie’s gaze.
“Yes?”
“She has African-American hair.”
“Her mother was African-American.”
Nancy nodded, her lower lip pushed up in contemplation.
“And the little boy who’s coming to live with you,” Nancy continued. “He’s African-American, too?”
“And half white. Like his sister.”
“You said your brother’s best friend was moving into the other side of your house to raise the boy.”
“That’s right.”
“That wouldn’t happen to be the same young man from SI who was here last week, would it?”
“Yes,” Leslie said, frowning. “Why?”
“Because I think they’re here.”
“What?” Leslie jumped up. “He’s not due until next week! I’m not ready for him. I—” She stopped abruptly when she noticed the surprise—and then the smile—on Nancy’s face at her uncharacteristic outburst.
“So it’s that way, is it?” the older woman murmured.
As Leslie started to refute the erroneous conclusions her secretary was drawing, Nancy went right on speaking.
“It’s about time.”
About time for what? To get herself a new secretary?
And counselor, too?
“What did you mean you think they’re here?” she asked, refusing to look in the mirror, to check her flyaway curls and the state of her make-up, with the older woman looking on. Judging her.
“I saw them downstairs, heading for the day care, when I was coming up from the mailroom.”
Leslie had to glance in the mirror, after all, then smoothed her hair behind her ear, and moved toward the door.
“I wish you’d said something sooner….” She pulled open the door just in time to see Kip and Jonathan enter the outer office of her suite.
“I thought the SI deal was the bigger news….”
She barely registered Nancy’s not so lightly uttered words as Jonathan walked purposefully toward her.
“They wouldn’t let us take Kayla.” He was clearly disgusted. Just as clear was the fact that he held her somehow responsible.
Leslie looked from him to Kip, and quickly back. The angry young boy she wanted so desperately to please was the least of the problems confronting her. It had only been five days since she’d seen Kip and the sight of him, there in the flesh, had her heart racing.
She knelt down by the dark-skinned little boy with dark red curls just like her brother’s. “It’s to keep her safe, honey,” she said. “They don’t know you yet and they won’t let her go with anyone I haven’t signed her out to. That way someone bad can’t just walk off with her.”
“I’m her brother.” Jonathan so obviously wanted to sound strong. Commanding. She had a feeling he wouldn’t be at all pleased to know that she could hear the tears in his voice.
“And we’ll tell them that, right now,” she said, standing. She held out her hand to him. “Come with me.”
“What about the phone calls?” Nancy asked. “Hi,” she said to Jonathan. “I’m Nancy.”
Introductions were exchanged. “I’ll make the calls as soon as I get back,” Leslie said, and then met Kip’s gaze head on for the first time since he’d come in.
“If I give you a key to my place, would you mind taking Kayla and Jonathan home? I had a big deal fall through half an hour ago and I’ve got a couple of hours of work….”
“Of course,” Kip said, reaching for the elevator button as they approached. “We’ll go to a drive-through for hamburgers and french fries and watch some TV. I imagine you have a television?”
“Fifty-inch,” Leslie said. “In the family room. Remote’s in the drawer by the couch.”
She could work until eight. Or nine or ten. Even though the day care was closing in an hour.
And for the first time since this whole nightmare began, she could see the benefit in having Kip Webster as a roommate.
“I HAVE A FEELING it’s way past your sister’s bedtime, buddy,” Kip said sometime after nine that evening, turning off the Disney show Jonathan had been watching. Kayla was lying on the floor beside him, head tilted toward the television, thumb in her mouth.
“She can’t go yet.”
It hadn’t taken long for Jonathan’s wide-eyed stare to win him over for good. About a minute actually—the moment he’d walked the little boy from Ada King’s home and saw him struggling not to cry.
He’d taught his first father-son lesson right there in the condominium parking lot. Boys could cry if they needed to. They just did it and got it done.
Jonathan had. Holding the child against him in the front seat of the car, feeling the sobs wracking the small body, listening while Jonathan told him all the reasons he didn’t need to cry, he’d given his heart to someone other than a woman for the first time in his adult life.
“What do you mean she can’t go yet?” he asked the boy now. Kayla, eyes half-closed, looked from her brother to him.
“She needs her diaper changed.”
He’d been wondering about that. Truth be known, it was the reason he’d held off this long in putting the kids to bed. He’d been hoping for Leslie to show up and rescue him.
“I think between the two of us we can handle that,” he told the boy with a lot more confidence than he felt.
He’d never changed a diaper in his life. Wasn’t even sure how to begin. He’d spent the past half hour hoping that Leslie was using those tape things he’d seen advertised on TV rather than the safety pin kind he’d seen on old sitcoms.
Jonathan shook his head, his full lips completely straight as he stared at Kip. “Boys don’t never look at little naked girls.”
It was the only time, since their first hour together in the parking lot of the condominium, that Jonathan had disagreed with him. At least openly.
Kip was treading on dangerously thin ground here. “Where’d you hear that?” he asked, listening desperately for Leslie’s car.
Would she come in through the garage into the kitchen? Or park outside and come in the front door?
“Daddy told me,” Jonathan said, standing between Kip and his sister. “He said, Jonathan, boys don’t never look at little naked girls.”
“This is different, son,” Kip said, praying to whatever fate might be willing to have mercy on him for the right words. “You aren’t looking at her to see her naked, you’re only helping her take care of things she’s too little to take care of herself.”
How much did five-year-olds know about sex? Or nakedness, for that matter? Weren’t little kids oblivious to stuff like that?
“No.” Jonathan’s tone grew more adamant. He moved closer to his sister, his back to the girl who hadn’t moved, other than to turn her head once, since Kip had shut off the television. Hands on his hips, the boy stared hard at Kip.
“Daddies take care of their baby daughters all the time, Jonathan.” Come on, Les, I need you here. “I’m sure your dad helped change Kayla’s diapers, gave her baths.”
“No, he didn’t.” Jonathan’s expression was solemn. He wasn’t giving an inch. “Daddy didn’t never do that. He said it was woman’s work.”
“Your father was the furthest thing from a chau vinist,” Kip said. And then, at Jonathan’s blank stare, tried again. “He did whatever chores were necessary.” Kip couldn’t remember a time he’d felt so inept. “He used to help his mom with the dishes, and…” A lightbulb went off. “He took care of his little sister, too, after their father died and their mother had to work.”
“Daddy’s sister…Aunt Leslie—” he said the name slowly, as though just getting used to it “—was nine when their daddy died. Daddy told me. She was all growed up a lot bigger than Kayla and me.” The boy frowned. “You can’t change her diaper, Uncle Kip,” he insisted again. “Daddy said so.”
Kip was getting nowhere. And no new ideas were presenting themselves.
“Come o
n, Jonathan,” he said. “Think back to when Ada was busy and your daddy was looking after you. You can’t remember one time he changed Kayla?”
The boy shook his head. “He always waited for Ada and made me and him go away and close the door so Kayla wouldn’t be ’barrassed and cry. He said so.”
The boy was obviously wrong, but Kip didn’t have any way to help him understand that. He glanced around Jonathan’s shoulder.
“She’s asleep.”
Jonathan took a quick look behind him. “Yep.”
“How about if we put her to bed in her overalls and wait for Aunt Leslie to change her into her pajamas?”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
Sliding his arms gently beneath the sleeping toddler, Kip carried her upstairs, hoping Leslie didn’t plan to work late again until her charge was fully grown.
“WHAT WAS THE BIG DEAL that fell through?”
Although it was almost midnight before Leslie made it home, Kip had been waiting up for her, handing her a glass of wine the minute she walked in.
He’d changed into jeans—and a T-shirt with sleeves that fit his shoulders a little too well. She was having a hard time ignoring them.
“You were probably aware of it before I was,” she said, glancing down. His feet were bare.
Leslie knew she was exhausted but felt a surge of energy anyway. It had to be leftover adrenaline and caffeine from a long night at the office that just kept getting longer.
“How would I have been aware of it?”
Dropping her briefcase, purse and keys on the island in the kitchen, she took the glass of wine and walked through to the family room, expecting chaos.
The room was spotless.
Leslie stood there, surveying her domain, surprised that it looked exactly as it had every other night she’d come home late in the three years since she’d bought the house. Rose-colored sofa, darker rose armchairs, beige hand-woven wool rug with rose and green flowers. Side tables, coffee table, silk flower arrangements, television, entertainment center. Fireplace. Books.
Her surprise was not so much at the appearance of the room, but more at the hint of disappointment it brought.
She’d changed her life. Drastically. That should show, shouldn’t it?
“The deal wasn’t really a deal,” she said slowly, kicking off her violet pumps as she dropped onto the sofa. “It was a hunch I had a lot riding on.”
“You do that often?” he asked, a half-empty bottle of beer in hand as he took the chair across from her, bringing those damned shoulders with him.
When she tried to ignore everything but the conversation they were trying to have, questioning his statement with a silently raised brow, he said, “Ride a lot on hunches?”
“Every single day.”
He grinned. “I’m impressed.”
“Why?” She liked his grin. Because she was so lonely that his smile made a long night seem suddenly enjoyable?
“You’re successful at what you do, which means the hunches are good ones. And you have the confidence and courage to follow through. You’re not afraid to take risks.”
She didn’t know about any of that. He could very well be putting her on some kind of kid-sister pedestal that was bound to come crashing down.
And probably soon, considering that they were going to be living in the same house, seeing each other every day.
Having breakfast together. Doing the dishes. Grocery shopping. Raising the kids…
Leslie slid out of her jacket. She hadn’t noticed it was so hot in here when she’d come in or she would’ve adjusted the thermostat.
“Anyway, you would have known first because I’m talking about the company you work for. I figured SI for an announcement of going public before the end of the year. I had investors cash in so they’d be ready and waiting to buy in the second that happened.”
He took a sip of beer. Watching her. Saying nothing.
“I’m sure you know it’s not a company that would’ve had people scurrying for stock in the first hour,” she told him. “But it’s a gold mine of potential. Which made it a guaranteed stock option.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that.”
“Why?”
“Because I value your opinion.”
Something was going on here. She was being slow; she could feel it.
And then she felt her face turn red. “You bought the company.” Why hadn’t she guessed earlier? But last she’d known, Kip’s father had squandered away his inheritance. Still, these facts, along with a new hunch, added up. “That’s why you were moving to the Phoenix-based headquarters.”
He nodded.
“But…how?” she asked, then shook her head at her own social ineptitude. “Sorry. It’s none of my business.”
“Of course it’s your business,” he said. “We’re living together!”
Her portfolio was none of his business. And she wasn’t living with him. They were sharing a house. All of which she was too tired to get into that night.
“My father might’ve thrown away a shitload of money while he was alive, but he also happened to buy into an oil well in Texas—a drunken poker game, so I’m told. Turns out, the land really did have oil. I get dividends every six months. It wasn’t enough to buy SI, but it was enough to guarantee the backing to keep it privately held. Of course, if I don’t get some stores built and turn things around, I stand to lose everything.”
“Wow. You own SI.” Intelligent, Les. She just didn’t know what else to say. She had an independently wealthy man, much richer than she was, living under her roof.
Leslie had liked it better when they were equals.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“YOU’LL HAVE the company in the black a year from now.”
Kip was exhausted. Needed to go to bed, sleep for about a month. But it had been a long week without her, a long night without quiet time. He wasn’t ready to end these moments.
And he needed to talk to her.
“I hope so,” he said, leaning forward to put his empty beer bottle down on the coffee table between them. “I had no idea you were on to us,” he said, understanding why she hadn’t been able to talk about her plans, but regretting the way things had played out anyway. Less than two weeks before he’d vowed to protect her. So far he was doing a bang-up job. “How much damage did I just do?”
And could he undo it?
She took a sip of wine. “Several hours on the phone tonight when I should’ve been home….” The half smile she sent him was nice. Maybe too nice. “And my promotion to full partner will probably be a little slower.”
“Ah, Les.” He finished off the bottle of warm beer he’d been nursing for a couple of hours. “I’m sorry.”
“I was a little agitated about it earlier,” she said, her expression relaxed as she looked him straight in the eye. “But in my business ‘easy come, easy go’ is the only motto that keeps you sane. One thing I’ve learned in the past ten years is that there’s always another opportunity. Always.”
“So now what?”
“I go find it.”
He frowned, the guilt spreading through him.
“Lighten up, Webster,” she said, smiling again. “I have other deals pending. You didn’t break me. I promise.”
He couldn’t tell how truthful she was being, but he had to admit she didn’t appear to be falling apart at the seams. She’d just lost a potential promotion, not to mention a huge amount of money, and she was smiling. He wasn’t sure he’d ever met a woman like her.
“So, how were the kids tonight?” She was half-lying in a corner of the couch, her glass of wine resting on her belly—a nicely curved, slender belly.
He’d do better to think about the deal he’d inadvertently cost her.
“They were pretty quiet,” he said. “Stayed close together. I offered them some of the toys I found up in Kayla’s room, but they weren’t interested. I’d guess that once Jonathan’s stuff gets here it’ll be different.”
/> “This place probably seemed huge to him.”
“I would’ve thought it might seem huge to you, too, living here all alone.”
She shrugged. “I didn’t plan to always be alone,” she said, reminding him of an earlier conversation and her desire to be a mother someday. “And I got in at a rock bottom price before this community was even officially on paper. I knew I couldn’t afford to pass up the investment. This is actually one of the smallest homes here.”
“It’s beautiful, Leslie. You know how to make a place feel warm—welcoming.”
She turned away, hugging a hand to her shoulder. “Kayla was awfully happy to see Jonathan this afternoon.”
He allowed the memory of the little girl’s squeal when she first saw her brother to distract him—as he was sure Leslie had intended. “We made the right choice, deciding to keep them together,” he said.
Surely she could see that now?
With a somewhat nervous look in his direction, she glanced down. “It’s not them I’m worried about.”
Kip stood, moved over to the other end of the couch—into her line of vision. “You have nothing to fear from me, Les, I swear to you.”
“I’m not afraid of you.”
“What then?”
Leslie sighed, ran a hand through her wild red curls, which made him wonder what that felt like. “The potential,” she said eventually.
He frowned. “We’ve discussed every minute detail, clear down to dating, trash day and R-rated movies on the premises. And we’ll continue to discuss them as they come up. I don’t see the problem.”
Pointing at him and then back at herself she said, “You…me…late nights…conversation…”
“It’s my first night in town.” Kip quelled the disappointment that flared at her words. Until that very second, this time with her had been the best part of his day. Hell, maybe even his week. “I thought it was the proper thing to wait for you and report in.”
She nodded, sipped from her goblet. And then again. “I know,” she said. “And I’m glad you did. It’s just…”
The Promise of Christmas Page 8
