by Peggy Webb
“Won’t you sit down, Belinda?”
She was still smiling when she sat down, even though Reeve had taken the chair behind his desk and now seemed more remote, like a king sitting on his throne.
She folded her hands in her lap and waited quietly for him to speak, but he acted as if he’d forgotten why he’d wanted her in here. He was as still as Abraham Lincoln in his great big old stone chair in Washington, D.C.—and nearly as scary-looking. Lord, she wished he’d smile. With his eyes all dark and his face so solemn, Reeve looked like he might be sizing her up for his dinner.
Belinda had never been the nervous type, so she didn’t fidget. Instead she looked him right in the eye.
“Belinda, I’ve had a bit of ill luck this morning. I’ve been interviewing nannies. Unsuccessfully, I might add.”
“That bunch of women I’ve seen parading in and out of here?’
“Yes.”
Her face split into a big smile. “I don’t blame you for calling them nannies. Especially that last one. She really did look like a goat.”
Reeve burst into laughter. “Point well made.” He sobered and picked up his letter opener. It was cool and heavy, and it gave him something to do with his hands—though he had never had trouble with his hands until he’d met Belinda Diamond.
“Since my wife’s death, I have employed a succession of women to look after my children.”
“I see.” Belinda’s heart went flip-flopping around her chest, and she felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. But she didn’t dare get her hopes up too high. She knew the meaning of disappointment.
“Tomorrow I have to leave for a business trip to San Francisco, and I’d like to have someone here to help Quincy with the children. She’s getting too old to manage the household and the children, too.”
Belinda didn’t know why he was beating around the bush so. He was beginning to make her nervous. She wanted to blurt out to him to get to the point, but she kept her peace. A part of being a new woman was learning not to speak before she thought.
His face had softened a little. “My children like you, Belinda.”
“I like them.”
“They are very precious to me.”
“All children are precious.”
Reeve relaxed a little. He wasn’t given to impulse, and yet he had acted on impulse by bringing Belinda Diamond into his office and hinting that he might have a job for her. Now it seemed the best way to approach the interview was not to conduct an interview at all, but to continue with this informal discussion. Belinda was the kind of artless truthful woman who held nothing back. He had already learned enough about her to suspect that she would be a good nanny—temporarily, of course. And now, the things she said confirmed his opinion.
He plowed full speed ahead. “Betsy and Mark can sometimes be naughty and full of pranks.”
“Shoot, you should have seen all the things I got into when I was their age. My daddy swore I was going to give him a heart attack before he reached thirty.”
“I suppose you took your whippings.”
“Whippings!” Her eyes got darker as she leaned forward in her chair. “My daddy never laid a hand on me. And I’ll tell you another thing—anybody who does that to a child is a yellow-bellied, lily-livered coward who deserves to be strung up so the buzzards can gnaw on his insides.”
Reeve’s big laugh pealed around the room. Belinda had certainly spared no words in telling him what he wanted to know.
“Well, I didn’t think it was all that funny.” Belinda stood up.” And if you’re the kind of man who whips his children, then I’m in the wrong house. I don’t even want to ride in the car with you down to Main Street, thank you very much.”
Head high, she began her regal exit. Reeve hurried around his desk and caught her by the shoulders. She tilted her head to look up at him, her eyes still blazing.
“I would never touch my children in anger, nor would I allow anyone else to punish them in such a manner. I was merely testing you, Belinda.”
“Why didn’t you just come right out and ask? I’d have told you the truth.”
“I know that.”
Her face was still tilted up to his, and she was so close he could feel the pleasant warmth of her body and smell the intoxicating fragrance of roses. He had held on to her too long. What was more, he didn’t want to let go. The knowledge was so disturbing that he hurried back to his chair. When he was safely behind his desk, he braced his hands and said softly, “Please don’t go, Belinda.”
“Well, I swear...” The legs of her jeans rubbing together made a soft swishing sound as she walked back to her chair. The sound crawled along Reeve’s nerves. “What some men won’t do to get a rise out of woman.”
She fanned her hot face with her hand. Even that movement was elegant and somehow sexy.
“I have a business proposition for you, Belinda,” he said, very much in charge once more.
“I’m all ears.”
“Tomorrow, I leave on a trip to San Francisco, and I’d like to hire you as temporary nanny for my children.”
“Temporary?”
The disappointment was clearly written on her face, but he wasn’t about to make any long-term commitments to a woman whose mere presence was enough to shake both his judgment and his reserve. Besides, she was not suitable for the long haul. Betsy and Mark needed a woman well versed in art and literature and music, someone who could give them the training that Sunny would have if she were alive.
“Since you’re planning to settle in Tupelo, I know you’re looking for a job with more future, Belinda. And I certainly don’t want to stand in your way.”
“Shoot, you’re not in my way. I guess I’d just go around you if you got in the way.”
“So—” he leaned back in his chair “—are you willing to work for me for the next few days, Belinda?”
She would have crawled on her hands and knees and slobbered all over his feet for the chance to stay in his fairy-tale castle a while longer. Just think of all the grand times she would have exploring! On the other hand, she didn’t want to appear too anxious. If you got too anxious, employers cut the pay down until it was next to nothing.
Belinda decided to speak right out, as bold as you please.
“How much does it pay?” He named a figure that had her gasping in surprise it was so high. “Lord have mercy! That sounds like so much money it’s almost wasteful!”
“Good. Then it’s agreed. I’ll have Quincy inform you about the children’s routine, then you may consider your duties officially begun.”
He stood up, and waited for her to understand that the interview was over and she was being dismissed.
Instead, she snuggled down in her chair and gave his office a lively inspection.
“Just think—me in this wonderful house for a few days.” She smiled at him. “Won’t that be just grand?”
“I... suppose so.” He hovered behind his desk like a benevolent professor indulging a favorite student.
“Last night when I was bundled up under that big soft comforter of yours in that pretty bedroom, I pretended this was my house. That every bit of this was all mine.” She waved her hand around the room to encompass his bookshelves and his desk and his works of art and his Persian rug. “Why, I was just as happy as if I had died and gone to the Glory Land. That’s how wonderful I think this house is.”
He sank back into his chair. There was nothing alarming about Belinda’s vision. In fact, he found it to be rather flattering. He had always taken pride in his home, and it pleased him to see that she loved it so.
“I’m glad you like it.”
“Like it! Mercy me.” She came out of her chair, as graceful and quick as a gazelle, and moved around till she was standing beside his chair.
She reached out and ran her hand lovingly along the back of his chair. He could barely feel her touch on the back of his neck. He reached for his letter opener, gripping it hard.
“If I lived in th
is big old house permanent-like...” She paused, gazing down at him. Her voice and her eyes had both gone dreamy. “You know, maybe with a husband and two kids all my own...” Her hand played softly along the back of his chair again, making his blood race. “Why, I ‘spect I might have a hard time getting all my work done. Take this chair, for instance. If I had a husband, why, I’d curl up in his lap in this big old comfortable chair and smooch to my heart’s content.”
Her hands whispered along the leather again. “Smooching’s nice, don’t you think?”
He cleared his throat, and her warm hand slid along the back of his chair once more, grazing his neck. Suddenly his body responded like an old soldier who had been out of battle too long but who’d never forgotten how to win the war.
Blindly he reached for the intercom. “Quincy!” He knew he was bellowing, but he was past caring. “Will you come into my office?”
Belinda jumped back from his chair as if she’d been shot. Land, she’d done it now. All that money down the tube just because she got carried away over his desk chair. Well, it was more than that, really, she thought as she made her way back to her own chair. Actually, she got carried away by him—by Reeve Lawrence. There was something powerful about that man. He was like a magnet drawing things toward him. Her, for one. She had felt the pull, and she had just naturally followed it. That’s how she had ended up behind his chair, running her hands along the back, for goodness’ sake.
And now she was going to pay the consequences. He was going to fire her even before she got started. Worse yet, he was going to have Quincy show her the door.
Maybe if she apologized—
“Belinda,” he shouted before she could even open her mouth. She jumped again. He was making her as nervous as a cat, and she’d never even quivered at horror movies.
“About that chair now,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
God, it was bad enough to be in the state he was in, without her reminding him of the way her hands had slid gently along the back of his chair, brushing his neck like a cool summer breeze. He tried to rein himself in. The first thing he did was moderate his voice.
“Quincy is going to take you into the children’s quarters and explain how I like things done.”
Belinda looked at him with eyes as big as pansies, and her pink tongue flicked her lips. He wished she wouldn’t do that. It was driving him mad.
Quincy’s coming through the door saved him.
“You yelled, Mr. Reeve?”
“Sorry, Quincy. Please come in.”
“That’s more like it.” Quincy came into the room, bringing with her the smell of cinnamon. “With you yellin’ around here, comin’ out of that box on the wall like a cyclone, I plumb tore the head off a gingerbread boy.” She rubbed her hands on her apron. “You need to settle down a little. Take life a little easier before you kill yourself with a stroke.”
He was already settling down some, thanks to her familiar and comforting presence. With Quincy in the room, life seemed normal again. Belinda Diamond was just a stranger passing through, and he was once more a businessman hiring a nanny.
“Quincy, I’ve hired Belinda as temporary nanny.”
“Saints be praised.” Quincy folded her hands in a prayerful attitude and lifted her eyes to heaven.
Reeve ignored her antics. “Will you please escort her to the children’s quarters and familiarize her with their routine?”
“Why don’t you do it yourself? I got gingerbread boys burnin’.”
He would never have tolerated such impertinence in anyone else. But in the Lawrence household, Quincy reigned supreme. “I’m willing to sacrifice gingerbread boys.” He stood up. “I’m going to my office downtown, Quincy. I’ll be back late this evening in time to tuck the children into bed.” He left the room quickly.
“What about lunch?” Quincy called after him.
“I’ll grab a bite on the way to the office.”
He didn’t even stop and turn around, but called over his shoulder, “Don’t keep dinner for me, either. I’ll order Chinese.”
The walk down his hall seemed endless. Fortunately his children weren’t around to hamper his progress. He didn’t want anything to stop his flight from Belinda Diamond, not even his beloved Betsy and Mark.
He burst through the door and headed blindly for his car. It wasn’t until he was behind the wheel that he realized he had forgotten his briefcase. He’d send his office manager back for it. Let them all think what they would.
The sound of his engine roaring to life was reassuring. He was a busy man, driving a powerful car to a powerful job. He was Reeve Lawrence, a man in charge of his world.
o0o
Belinda followed Quincy to the children’s quarters, but her mind was still on her new boss. He’d said he would order Chinese food. Suddenly the big old house yawned empty, all the furniture rattling around like noisy ghosts. That was ridiculous, of course. The children and Quincy were there.
“Now this is the children’s bathroom,” Quincy was saying. “They bathe every night at seven whether they’re dirty or not. Mr. Reeve won’t tolerate changin’ the schedule.”
Belinda tried to concentrate, but her mind was still on Reeve. Funny how a house seemed different with somebody special inside. A hot flush came into her cheeks. Lord have mercy. Somebody special! Here she was already making a fool of herself over that man—after telling herself she wouldn’t do any such thing.
“And, of course, they usually eat meals just as regular as a clock—breakfast at seven, lunch at twelve and dinner at eight, with a snack at four in the afternoon.”
“But what if they’re right in the middle of a game at four o’clock? Or what if they get hungry at three?”
“There’s no changin’ the schedule. But I’ll tell you a little secret. I got a cookie jar stashed in the kitchen for just such emergencies. Anytime they get hungry, all they got to do is sneak by and dig in, and I act like I’m not even lookin’.”
Belinda and Quincy laughed together. Both of them were already liking the new arrangement enormously.
Belinda stayed busy the rest of the day, and it wasn’t until nightfall that she had time to notice Reeve’s continued absence. He was still at the office, she guessed, eating his lonely meal of Chinese food. She pictured him in another desk chair big enough for cuddling. If such a man belonged to her she’d be down at that office in a shake, perched on the edge of his desk with her shoes off and her feet in his lap, laughing at something funny that had happened that day and eating bites of Chinese food off the same fork. Wouldn’t that be just dandy?
She stood at the window of her bedroom, gazing out. The moon slithered from behind the trees, big as a yellow balloon.
“Belinda Stubaker,” she whispered fiercely, “don’t you dare go messing up this job on account of feeling swoony and foolish over the boss.”
She stayed at the window a while longer, hoping for a glimpse of his car as he came up the driveway, but it got late and he never came. Quincy had said he always tucked the children into bed when he was in town. She guessed she’d run him off from his own children with all her talk of smooching in a big old desk chair.
It was bad enough that she was acting under an assumed name. The least she could do was learn to hold her tongue.
Sighing, she went upstairs, opened her laptop and checked her emails.
From: Molly
To: Belinda, Janet, Joanna, Bea, Clemmie, Catherine
Re: Reeve Lawrence
Daddy says he’s not an ax murderer; he’s a wealthy, prominent businessman, respected by everybody in Tupelo. Is he handsome? He sounds like McDreamy! You know, a little older, but sexy.
Much love,
Molly
From: Joanna
To: Molly, Belinda, Clemmie, Bea, Catherine, Janet
Re: McDreamy
OMG, I LOVE older men!!! Tell ALL!!!
Big Hugs!
Joanna
From: Janet
To: Molly, Joa
nna, Belinda, Clemmie, Bea, Catherine
Re: Cloud Nine
All right. Time out. Belinda is looking for a job, not a man. Listen, Belinda, I don’t care if this Reeve Lawrence has a gold you know what, I want you to get your feet on the ground before you go getting starry eyed. Remember, we’re all independent women.
Xo
Janet
From: Catherine
To: Belinda, Janet, Molly, Joanna, Bea, Clemmie
Re: Belinda’s Future
Wait a minute. Aren’t we all looking for a man? Not now, of course, but eventually. As long as we don’t have to depend on a man, then Mr. Right will just be icing on the cake.
Belinda, sweetie, Janet has a point about getting a job before you go off the deep end over this Reeve Lawrence. I know how romantic you are, but you don’t want to end up an old woman of forty having to ask a man for money, even if he is your husband.
Xoxo
Catherine
From: Clemmie
To: Belinda, Janet, Bea, Catherine, Joanna, Molly
Re: Mr. Right
If a Mr. Right ever came to Peppertown I’d be willing to put my Virginia on the line without a wedding ring. Gracious, this town is so dead they roll up the streets at night. Hang in there, Belinda! Sounds like Tupelo was a good choice for you.
Hugs,
Clemmie
From: Bea
To: Belinda, Janet, Catherine, Molly, Joanna, Clemmie
Re: THE JOB, THE MAN
How old is this man? Some old Friday fart with children sounds too old to me. If I’m going to save it all for the proverbial Mr. Right, I’m going to find a young stud. I want whipped cream with my icing. And BTW, girls, in case you have forgotten the E word, jobs don’t grow on trees. In this economy Belinda will be lucky to land a job this time next year.
Do you need $$$, Belinda? Just say the word.
Hugs,
