Don't Tell (4 page)

She remembered that first week of night school. The unfamiliar feeling of sitting in a classroom again after so many years. She’d been a young mother with a seven-year-old son, a grueling full-time job and so little time to enjoy the only class she’d been able to afford that quarter. Eli had taken notice and asked her to remain behind when their third evening class concluded.

He’d noticed her scared-rabbit fear at the prospect of remaining alone with him and she could see the compassion in his kind old eyes. „You eat up my class, Miss Stewart,“ he’d said. „I like that.“ Then he’d offered her a job as his secretary, complete with the deep tuition discounts CarringtonCollege provided to employees. He’d been flexible, allowing her to fit her work around her class schedule, allowing her to bring Tom to the office during school holidays and the weekends she worked. Thanks to Eli and Dana, she’d never had to hire a babysitter, not once in the seven years since arriving in Chicago with little more than the shirt on her back.

And now he was gone. Eli was gone. Regret speared like a lance. He’d never see her graduate, and she was so close. Only one more quarter and she’d have her degree. It was still hard to believe. She, a high-school dropout would soon have a college degree. Deep in her heart she thanked Dana for pushing her to get the GED high school diploma. Deep in her heart she thanked Eli for giving her the chance to achieve so much more than she’d ever dreamed possible.

Her hefty sigh rattled the papers on her desk. And now he was gone.

Caroline glanced at the clock, determined not to grieve the day away. She had only another hour before Dr. Hunter was due, just enough time to finish the payroll report.

It was the shuffling sound that drew her from her concentration on the payroll. She’d heard that sound before, so long ago. It was the sound of hospitals, of patients dragging their feet against tiled floors, walkers and canes supporting them as they took on the agonizing task of learning to walk again. It was still a sound that could make her shudder. But she didn’t shudder. It was an unwritten law in rehab. You never showed pity or revulsion for those around you. It was a very strong ethic amongst the broken and recovering.

Digging deep and finding a true smile, Caroline looked up from her paperwork as the shuffling ceased to find a smooth, wide hand with long fingers clutching the end of a curved wooden cane. She shifted her gaze a bit higher to find a trim waist and very broad chest covered with the coat of a double-breasted suit. She swallowed. And looked farther up. Her eyes continued upward until they reached the face of the man standing before her desk. He was tall, taller than Tom. He was dark, but certainly not menacing, his jaw strong and square, his dark brows slightly bunched. His hair was thick and black, trimmed close to his nape. A lock fell over his forehead, giving him an almost boyish look. His suit was navy and tailored and fit his broad shoulders very well. His tie was paisley and emphasized the strong muscles of his neck. Smoky gray eyes looked back at her, a serious mouth showing no trace of a smile. He abruptly hooked the cane on his belt at his back, hiding it with his suit coat.

Inexplicably, Caroline’s heart beat a little faster. This was a man, with a capital M, as Dana would say. Now Caroline understood the meaning of „sex appeal.“ He all but exuded it from his perfect pores.

Mercy.

She cleared her throat. „Can – “ She stumbled over the syllable and felt her face heat in embarrassment. Although a man who looked like him probably left drooling, stuttering women in his wake every day. She cleared her throat again. „Can I help you?“

„I hope so. I’m looking for Caroline Stewart.“

The woman’s eyes widened and Max felt the room grow suddenly smaller. Her smile had been genuine, almost enough to tug him from the stern facade he wished to portray on his first day. Her dark brown hair hung to the middle of her back in a loose braid, a few curls escaping to frame her face. It was a nice face, all the features in the requisite places. A nice medium nose, full lips, dainty brows arched in question. But it was her eyes that drew him. Blue as the sea in the Caribbean and readable as a book. She was impressed with his face. He got that a lot. She was surprised, but not put off by his cane. That reaction was less common and meant quite a bit more.

Then she stood, extending a steady hand. Nice, neat, unpolished nails were consistent with the simple makeup barely dusting her face. The top of her head wouldn’t reach his shoulder. Just looking at her made him feel larger, stronger. She spoke again, her voice dripping with honey. A strong, deep sexy drawl.

„I’m Caroline Stewart.“

Her smile had brightened a notch, drawing an answering twitch of his own lips. His secretary. Well, well. Life was finally beginning to roll his way, he thought as he shook the hand she offered. „I’m Dr. Hunter.“ She blinked, her mouth dropping open. Her small hand went lax in his. „You were expecting me, weren’t you?“

„I – uh.“ She swallowed hard and regained her composure. „Yes, of course I was.“ Her lips curved and a dimple appeared in one cheek. „I just wasn’t expecting you. Exactly.“ She shook his hand heartily.

„Who were you expecting? Exactly?“

„A sixty-five-year-old man.“ She tilted her head to one side, those eyes of hers narrowing slightly. „That old sneak. You’ve met Wade Grayson, one of the other professors, haven’t you?“

He nodded warily. „Once. At my interview with the dean.“

His secretary chuckled, the sound rich and full of rueful merriment. „He’s let me go on and on since the dean announced you were coming, thinking you were a senior citizen bachelor.“ She looked up and her dimple deepened.

„Not to worry. He’ll pay sooner or later. So you are my new young boss. Welcome, Dr. Hunter.“

Pretty and charming. This is growing better by the moment, he thought. „Thank you. It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Stewart.“

„I’m Caroline to everyone around here. What do you prefer to be called?“ Her deep blue eyes danced at him. „I’m hoping you don’t want us to use your whole name.“

This time his grin broke through. „It would serve you all right if I did.“ He hesitated, then decided. He’d start this new phase of his life without the old barriers. No more „Dr. Hunter.“

„You can call me Max.“

„A marked improvement over Maximillian Alexander.“ She shook her head, her eyes still filled with amusement. „Your parents had big hopes for you.“

He appreciated her sense of humor. „Isn’t that the whole point of having children?“

Caroline thought of Tom and everything she’d sacrificed, would continue to sacrifice for him. „Yes, you’re absolutely right.“ She stepped from behind the desk and stood before him, her head still tilted back. „I’ll show you your office, then you need to tell me how you want to proceed.“

She walked towards a closed door and Max stood where he was for five hard beats of his heart, his eyes locking on her round hips swaying gracefully as she moved. The very fierceness of his body’s response took him by surprise. Don’t be insane, he chided himself. Don’t make up for Elise by falling for the first female that crosses your path. He wasn’t listening to himself, he knew, his gaze still locked on her round rear end in its modest black skirt. He swallowed, barely wrenching his eyes upward in time when she paused, her hand on the doorknob. She looked over her shoulder to find him rooted in the same spot.

„This is your office,“ she said, her eyes gone sober. The change was as abrupt and unmistakable as the resulting prick of sadness at his own heart. Her voice said „Your office.“ Her eyes said it would always belong to Eli Bradford. She’d loved the old professor, that was clear.

Retrieving his cane, Max followed her into an office covered in wood paneling with rows and rows of built-in bookcases. Plush wine carpet covered the floor, contrasting well with the wood. The tang of lemon furniture polish mixed with the pleasant smell of old books and the leather of a long worn sofa, perfect for an occasional nap. Framed prints covered the walls, an eclectic medley of Monet, Warhol, and O’Keeffe. A model airplane fight was taking place in one corner of the room, a British Spitfire and a German ME-109 hanging from thin wires. With a smile Max noted the ME-109 going down in flames. It would seem the good guys won in Dr. Bradford’s world.

A large old mahogany desk dominated the room, accompanied by a matching chair, lit from behind by a large picture window that looked out onto the snowy courtyard where an occasional student braved the early spring cold snap. It was a very nice office, he thought, pleased. But the desk was worn, pitted and quite bare. He raised an eyebrow at the sight. The rest of the room was filled with books, making the empty desk stand out.

Caroline crossed the room and adjusted the blinds, cutting the glare of the morning sun. „This is one of the best views on the campus. You’ll be able to see the flower gardens at the school of agriculture in another month.“ She turned and saw his pointed glance at the empty desk. „That was… Dr. Bradford’s. I wasn’t sure if you would have your own, or if you’d want to use his.“ Her hand brushed the worn surface, an unconscious caress. „I have a catalog you can use to order any supplies you want to fill it, if you choose to keep it“

She raised her eyes to meet his, and he wasn’t certain if she was even aware of the entreaty that filled the blue depths. It was more poignant than the smile from a few minutes before. Dean Whitfield had told him how well Bradford had been loved. It was obvious his secretary held one of the strongest attachments.

She swallowed and turned her head, but not before he caught the glimpse of sorrow in her eyes. „If you choose… not to keep his tilings, please let me know. There are so many of us who will be happy to take them for you.“

The hand that brushed the desktop trembled, sending a pulse of compassion -through him. Unfamiliar, the feeling caught him by surprise. He had a desk, one he’d had custom-built to accommodate his height years before, but the very idea of putting more sadness in her eyes was suddenly untenable. „I’d consider it an honor to keep the office as it is, Caroline.“ Her relief was a tangible thing. „I may, however, require some additional furniture.“ He turned and took in the square footage. „I have a footstool. For my leg,“ he added, his brows drawing together slightly. To her credit, she didn’t flinch or look uncomfortable in the least. His opinion of her inched up another notch. „And a computer table.“

„I’ll take care of it. Are they still in Denver?“

„No, they’re in my house in Wheaton, about an hour drive from town.“

Caroline looked up at him, surprised. „You have a house in Chicago already?“

„My grandmother’s. She left it to me a few years back, but one of my nephews has been living there, keeping the place up. He was offered a job on the East Coast and moved last week. Hearing from Dean Whitfield was… providential.“ He thought of Denver, of the pain of leaving behind what he’d never really had. Coming to Chicago now was providential indeed.

„Well, fine, if you give me the address, I’ll arrange for the furniture and anything else you want to be moved here.“ She hesitated, those eyes of hers blurting uncertainty. „What else would you like me to do for you today?“

Max lifted his eyebrows. „I’ve never become chair of a department after its founder died unexpectedly. What would you recommend?“

He watched her draw a relieved breath. What kind of man had she expected him to be? It was unlikely his reputation could have preceded him this quickly. „Well, I have personnel files and the department budget for you to review“ – she started ticking the items off on her fingers – „and you have to sign payroll today or the natives will revolt. I have your schedule prepared – you have your first class tomorrow morning at nine-thirty. Eli had notes prepared for the whole semester. You can use his or your own, of course. You have meetings set up with your staff beginning at one-thirty today ending at five and a dinner with Dean Whitfield at six. He’ll send a car for you. Then all the student files, of course, and – “

„Whoa, stop!“ Max held up a hand in mock surrender. „First things first. Is there any way I can get some coffee? I’m still on Denver time.“

Her dimple returned. „I’ll make us some. How do you take it?“

„Cream and sugar. Lots of sugar. If you order me a coffeemaker, I’ll make it myself and not bother you with it.“ He moved to sit behind the desk, taking pressure off his hip. „And Caroline?“

She turned at the door of the office and he… looked, unable to keep his eyes locked on her pretty face any longer.

She was as appealing coming as she was going, he decided swiftly. Clad in a casual black skirt, she was the picture of uncontrived femininity. The color of her blue turtleneck sweater brought out the deep blue of her eyes, and gently molded what appeared to be very nice breasts. The palms of his hands itched as his eyes measured. She was the perfect size, enough to cradle in his hands, but not too large. He’d always preferred women with rounded figures. Caroline Stewart’s figure was simply perfect. The skirt hugged slim hips and fell to mid-calf where sheer stockings covered the rest of her very nice legs. Her shoes were sensible with not a single zing of flash, yet they showcased her calves to perfection. He abruptly yanked his eyes back to her face. She was watching him steadily, interest sharpening her expression by degrees. And it was interest he saw in her face. The good kind. He’d been out of the mainstream a long time, but not so long that he didn’t recognize me look of a woman aware of a man. Sincerely, honesty, wholesomely aware. Wholesome. The very word startled him as it appeared in his mind. A decision snapped into place, one he’d probably analyze to death later. But it was a new start, a second chance, and he’d begin today to honor his self-made resolution to meet life with spontaneity.

Caroline’s personnel file would be the first he’d read, her marital status the first line he’d search for. And if she wasn’t married, he would ask her out. It was as simple as that.

Caroline felt a rush of heat slide up her neck as he looked her up and down. She realized her mourn was watering and she swallowed hard as the passage of time became clear once more. She’d been standing mere, staring at him for at least a minute. He’d addressed her. Although what they'd been talking about suddenly became a fuzzy memory.