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3
“DANIEL, HONEY, I love you, but isn’t this just a bit nutso, even for you?”
Dan smiled up at his mother. “Probably. But then, it’s your fault.”
Colleen Crawford put down her mug of coffee and gave him a look. “And how did you arrive at that conclusion?”
“If you’d just talk to me, I wouldn’t have to hire myself out to strange women.”
“We’re talking right now.”
“But not about what I want to know.”
She took another sip and leaned back in her beat-up old director’s chair. They were on her balcony, looking out over her garden, the pride and joy of her life. Aside from him, of course. She grew all her own vegetables, flowers, anything she took a fancy to. For the most stubborn, there was a small greenhouse. The rest just gave in and grew, somehow knowing his mother wouldn’t let up until they sprouted. HGTV had done a profile on her green thumb. Of course, it hadn’t hurt that she was so well-known for her books, but still. The show had been about the garden.
“We’ve discussed this,” she said. “Some things have to be discovered. Not taught.”
“Even when I’ve got the inside track on one of the world’s leading experts right here?”
“There are no experts on relationships, pumpkin. Only wild-ass guesses.”
“I suppose that’s what you teach at NYU?”
“Precisely.”
“So if there are no answers, what’s the use of searching?”
“Because the only answer
“Right.”
“You’ll see. Eventually, you’re going to meet someone who will turn your world upside down, and then you’ll understand.”
He leaned forward, so frustrated he could spit. “Understand what?”
“That you don’t need to understand.”
He raised his hands as if to go for her throat and growled at her. “You are the most obstinate woman.”
“I’m a cupcake, and you know it.”
“Fine. You’re a cupcake. I just hope you know that when I end up old and alone, a bitter, senile octogenarian, you’ll be to blame.”
“Yes, dear. So tell me about her.”
He smiled, remembering his meeting with Jessica, the look of her. “She’s a fine-looking woman. Kind of exotic, but in an old-fashioned way. Like a Renaissance painting.”
“Reubens?”
He shook his head. “No, more like a Botticelli. Complete with red hair, pale skin. Damn.”
“Okay, so we know you like that part of her, now what about the part above the neck?”
“That part’s just as intriguing.”
Her eyebrows went up. “Really?”
He reached over to the little hand-painted table where, next to the fruit bowl, he found a lemon muffin. Homemade, of course. His mother loved to cook what she grew. After an enormous bite and some coffee, he said, “She’s bright. Running a media campaign for a major new cosmetics firm. She’s all career, and determined to top out at CEO.”
“And that’s intriguing how?”
“Come on, Mom. Not everyone can be as well balanced as you.”
“No, but they can be a little balanced. I already assumed she had no real life. If she had, surely she wouldn’t have had to hire the likes of you.”
“Yeah, she’s pretty focused. But that works in my favor. I figure she’s not going to get coy with me, or have a secondary agenda. I’ll ask. She’ll answer.”
“And what if she doesn’t have the answers?”
“I’ll keep looking. But I’ll have tried.”
Colleen sighed, as she ran her hand through her softly graying hair. “We always encouraged you to go out into the field, to learn from experience. Just don’t let your hopes get too high, okay?”
“Look, even I know there aren’t going to be pat answers. But there are going to be clues. Directions. Hints. I think, if I can just talk about it with no games, I can move to the next level.”
“Don’t you need someone on this level to be able to move on to the next?”
“I’m hoping it will help me find the kind of woman I can move on with. Even you have to admit I’ve done a lousy job in my previous selections.”
“Oh, honey. Lousy is being kind. But that’s mostly because you let your little head do your thinking for you.”
“It’s a good thing I ceased being embarrassed by you years ago.”
“I know. And I appreciate your indulgence.”
“So, you’ll take care of Mercy?”
“The cat hates me, but yes, I will.”
He leaned over, kissed her cheek, then went back to his muffin. “Great.”
“And you’ll tell me what you’ve learned?”
“Sure, why not?”
“Oh, goody.”
He stood. “I’ve got to run. If you need me, I’ll have the cell.”
“Okay, sweetheart. Take some muffins.”
He grinned. “I planned to.”
“Take some vegetables, too.”
“In your dreams.”
He squeezed her hand and headed for the kitchen, where up above the sink was a picture he’d taken years ago, of his father and mother. They looked so damn happy.
THE HOTEL SUITE was straight out of a Fred Astaire-Ginger Rogers movie. It was all silver, white and high deco, right down to the crown molding. Huge by any standard, but especially for Manhattan, it had to be priced to the sky. If she’d made the reservations, she’d have been several floors down in a single, but that wouldn’t have been the perfect setting for a seduction, would it?
Owen definitely had a screw loose, and for the first time since she’d met with Dan, she felt fine about the devil’s bargain she’d gotten herself into.
Her basic premise still held true-that if Owen saw she was involved, witnessed it with his own eyes, he’d back the hell off. What was new to the equation was Dan’s “quest,” and worse, her attraction to the man.
She waited while the bellman put her big suitcase on the stand, then she tipped him outrageously, fully expecting to have to tax the hotel staff to the limit during her stay. He thanked her, gave a slight bow and left her to unpack.
Once alone, she fought the temptation to lie down on the puffy white comforter, to bury her head in the assemblage of pillows and sleep for three days. Instead, she unzipped her bag and went methodically through the contents, storing them in her typically organized fashion. Halfway through the job, she remembered that she was going to be sharing the space. Not only did that make her pause, it led her to open the door to the minibar and pull out a small bottle of Chardonnay.
Sharing a room with a total stranger. That had to be right up near the top of her own personal list of idiotic moves. Okay, so Glen vouched for him, but what did that mean? This was the most important week of her life, and she couldn’t afford to move her eye from the ball. So what did she do? Hire the most attractive man she’d met in
