Local Hero (10 page)

***

Inside the staid and unthreatened walls of National Trust, Hester dealt with a stack of paperwork. She enjoyed this part of her job, the organized monotony of it. There was also the challenge of sorting through the facts and figures and translating them into real estate, automobiles, business equipment, stage sets or college funds. Nothing gave her greater pleasure than to be able to stamp a loan with her approval.

She'd had to teach herself not to be softhearted. There were times the facts and figures told you to say no, no matter how earnest the applicant might be. Part of her job was to dictate polite and impersonal letters of refusal. Hester might not have cared for it, but she accepted that responsibility, just as she accepted the occasional irate phone call from the recipient of a loan refusal.

At the moment she was stealing half an hour, with the muffin and coffee that would be her lunch, to put together three loan packages she wanted approved by the board when they met the following day. She had another appointment in fifteen minutes. And, with that and a lack of interruptions, she could just finish. She wasn't particularly pleased when her assistant buzzed through.

“Yes, Kay.”

“There's a young man out here to see you, Mrs. Wallace.”

“His appointment isn't for fifteen minutes. He'll have to wait.”

“No, it isn't Mr. Greenburg. And I don't think he's here for a loan. Are you here for a loan, honey?”

Hester heard the familiar giggle and hurried to the door. “Rad? Is everything all right—oh.”

He wasn't alone. Hester realized she'd been foolish to think Radley would have made the trip by himself. Mitch was with him, along with the huge, mild-eyed dog.

“We just ate tacos.”

Hester eyed the faint smudge of salsa on Radley's chin. “So I see.” She bent to hug him, then glanced up at Mitch. “Is everything okay?”

“Sure. We were just out taking care of a little business and decided to drop by.” He took a good long look. She'd covered most of the colorful bruise with makeup. Only a hint of yellow and mauve showed through. “The eye looks better.”

“I seem to have passed the crisis.”

“That your office?” Without invitation, he strolled over to stick his head inside. “God, how depressing. Maybe you can talk Radley into giving you one of his posters.”

“You can have one,” Radley agreed immediately. “I got a bunch of them when Mitch took me to Universal. Wow, Mom you should see it. I met M. J. Jones and Rich Skinner, and I saw this room where they keep zillions of comics. See what I got.” He held up his shopping bag. “For free. They said I could.”

Her first feeling was one of discomfort. It seemed her obligation to Mitch grew with each day. Then she looked down at Radley's eager, glowing face. “Sounds like a pretty great morning.”

“It was the best ever.”

“Yellow alert,” Kay murmured. “Rosen at three o'clock.”

It didn't take words to show Mitch that Rosen was a force to be reckoned with. He saw Hester's face poker up instantly as she smoothed a hand over her hair to be sure it was in place.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Wallace.” He glanced meaningfully at the dog, who sniffed the toe of his shoe. “Perhaps you've forgotten that pets are not permitted inside the bank.”

“No, sir. My son was just—”

“Your son?” Rosen gave Radley a brief nod. “How do you do, young man. Mrs. Wallace, I'm sure you remember that bank policy frowns on personal visits during working hours.”

“Mrs. Wallace, I'll just put these papers on your desk for your signature—when your lunch break is over.” Kay shuffled some forms importantly, then winked at Radley.

“Thank you, Kay.”

Rosen harrumphed. He couldn't argue with a lunch break, but it was his duty to deal with other infractions of policy. “About this animal—”

Finding Rosen's tone upsetting, Taz pushed his nose against Radley's knee and moaned. “He's mine.” Mitch stepped forward, his smile charming, his hand outstretched. Hester had time to think that with that look he could sell Florida swampland. “Mitchell Dempsey II. Hester and I are good friends, very good friends. She's told me so much about you and your bank.” He gave Rosen's hand a hearty political shake. “My family has several holdings in New York. Hester's convinced me I should use my influence to have them transfer to National Trust. You might be familiar with some of the family companies. Trioptic, D and H Chemicals, Dempsey Paperworks?”

“Well, of course, of course.” Rosen's limp grip on Mitch's hand tightened. “It's a pleasure to meet you, a real pleasure.”

“Hester persuaded me to come by and see for myself how efficiently National Trust ticked.” He definitely had the man's number, Mitch thought. Dollar signs were already flitting through the pudgy little brain. “I am impressed. Of course, I could have taken Hester's word for it.” He gave her stiff shoulder an intimate little squeeze. “She's just a whiz at financial matters. I can tell you, my father would snatch her up as a corporate adviser in a minute. You're lucky to have her.”

“Mrs. Wallace is one of our most valued employees.”

“I'm glad to hear it. I'll have to bring up National Trust's advantages when I speak with my father.”

“I'll be happy to take you on a tour personally. I'm sure you'd like to see the executive offices.”

“Nothing I'd like better, but I am a bit pressed for time.” If he'd had days stretching out before him, he wouldn't have spent a minute of them touring the stuffy corners of a bank. “Why don't you work up a package I can present at the next board meeting?”

“Delighted.” Rosen's face beamed with pleasure. Bringing an account as large and diversified as Dempsey's to National Trust would be quite a coup for the stuffy bank manager.

“Just send it through Hester. You don't mind playing messenger, do you, darling?” Mitch said cheerfully.

“No,” she managed.

“Excellent,” Rosen said, the excitement evident in his voice. “I'm sure you'll find we can serve all your family's needs. We are the bank to grow with, after all.” He patted Taz's head. “Lovely dog,” he said and strode off with a new briskness in his step.

“What a fusty old snob,” Mitch decided. “How do you stand it?”

“Would you come into my office a moment?” Hester's voice was as stiff as her shoulders. Recognizing the tone, Radley rolled his eyes at Mitch. “Kay, if Mr. Greenburg comes in, please have him wait.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

Hester led the way into her office, then closed the door and leaned against it. There was a part of her that wanted to laugh, to throw her arms around Mitch and howl with delight over the way he'd handled Rosen. There was another part—the part that needed a job, a regular salary and employee benefits—that cringed.

“How could you do that?”

“Do what?” Mitch took a look around the office. “The brown carpet has to go. And this paint. What do you call this?”

“Yuck,” Radley ventured as he settled in a chair with Taz's head in his lap.

“Yeah, that's it. You know, your work area has a lot to do with your work production. Try that on Rosen.”

“I won't be trying anything with Rosen once he finds out what you did. I'll be fired.”

“Don't be silly. I never promised my family would move their interests to National Trust. Besides, if he puts together an intriguing enough package, they just might.” He shrugged, indicating it made little difference to him. “If it'll make you happier, I can move my personal accounts here. A bank's a bank as far as I'm concerned.”

“Damn it.” It was very rare for her to swear out loud and with heat. Radley found the fur on Taz's neck of primary interest. “Rosen's got corporate dynasty on his mind, thanks to you. He's going to be furious with me when he finds out you made all that up.”

Mitch tapped a hand on a tidy stack of papers. “You're obsessively neat, did you know that? And I didn't make anything up. I could have,” he said thoughtfully. “I'm good at it, but there didn't seem to be any reason to.”

“Would you stop?” Frustrated, she moved to him to slap his hands away from her work. “All that business about Trioptic, and D and H Chemicals.” Letting out a long sigh, she dropped down on the edge of the desk. “I know you did it to try to help me, and I appreciate the thought, but—”

“You do?” With a smile, he fingered the lapel of her suit jacket.

“You mean well, I suppose,” Hester murmured.

“Sometimes.” He leaned a little closer. “You smell much too good for this office.”

“Mitch.” She put a hand on his chest and glanced nervously at Radley. The boy had an arm hooked around Taz and was already deeply involved in one of his new comic books.

“Do you really think it would be a traumatic experience if the kid saw me kiss you?”

“No.” At his slight movement, she pressed harder. “But that's beside the point.”

“What
is
the point?” He took his hand from her jacket to fiddle with the gold triangle at her ear.

“The point is I'm going to have to see Rosen and explain to him that you were just . . .” What was the word she wanted? “Fantasizing.”

“I've done a lot of that,” he admitted as he moved his thumb down her jawline. “But I'm damned if I think it's any of his business. Want me to tell you the one about you and me in the life raft on the Indian Ocean?”

“No.” This time she had to laugh, though the reaction in her stomach had more to do with heat than humor. Curiosity pricked at her so that she met his eyes, then looked quickly away again. “Why don't you and Rad go home? I have another appointment, then I'll go and explain things to Mr. Rosen.”

“You're not mad anymore?”

She shook her head and gave in to the urge to touch his face. “You were just trying to help. It was sweet of you.”

He imagined she'd have taken the same attitude with Radley if he'd tried to wash the dishes and had smashed her violet-edged china on the floor. Telling himself it was a kind of test, he pressed his lips firmly to hers. He felt each layer of reaction—the shock, the tension, the need. When he drew back, he saw more than indulgence in her eyes. The fire flickered briefly, but with intensity.

“Come on, Rad, your mom has to get back to work. If we're not in the apartment when you get home, we're in the park.”

“Fine.” Unconsciously she pressed her lips together to seal in the warmth. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

“Bye, Rad, I'll be home soon.”

“Okay.” He lifted his arms to squeeze her neck. “You're not mad at Mitch anymore?”

“No,” she answered in the same carrying whisper. “I'm not mad at anyone.”

She was smiling when she straightened, but Mitch saw the worried look in her eye. He paused with his hand on the knob. “You're really going to go up to Rosen and tell him I made that business up?”

“I have to.” Then, because she felt guilty about launching her earlier attack, she smiled. “Don't worry. I'm sure I can handle him.”

“What if I told you I didn't make it up, that my family founded Trioptic forty-seven years ago?”

Hester lifted a brow. “I'd say don't forget your gloves. It's cold out there.”

“Okay, but do yourself a favor before you bare your soul to Rosen. Look it up in
Who's Who.
”

With her hands in her pockets, Hester walked to her office door. From there she saw Radley reach up to put a gloved hand into Mitch's bare one.

“Your son's adorable,” Kay said, offering Hester a file. The little skirmish with Rosen had completely changed her opinion of the reserved Mrs. Wallace.

“Thanks.” When Hester smiled, Kay's new opinion was cemented. “And I do appreciate you covering for me that way.”

“That's no big deal. I don't see what's wrong with your son dropping by for a minute.”

“Bank policy,” Hester murmured under her breath, and Kay let out a snort.

“Rosen policy, you mean. Beneath that gruff exterior is a gruff interior. But don't worry about him. I happen to know he considers your work production far superior to your predecessor's. As far as he's concerned, that's the bottom line.”

Kay hesitated a moment as Hester nodded and flipped through the file. “It's tough raising a kid on your own. My sister has a little girl, she's just five. I know some nights Annie's just knocked out from wearing all the badges, you know.”

“Yes, I do.”

“My parents want her to move back home so Mom can watch Sarah while Annie works, but Annie's not sure it's the best thing.”

“Sometimes it's hard to know if accepting help's right,” Hester murmured, thinking of Mitch. “And sometimes we forget to be grateful that someone's there to offer it.” She shook herself and tucked the file under her arm. “Is Mr. Greenburg here?”

“Just came in.”

“Fine, send him in, Kay.” She started for her office, then stopped. “Oh, and Kay, dig me up a copy of
Who's Who.
”

Chapter 6

He was loaded.

Hester was still dazed when she let herself into her apartment. Her downstairs neighbor with the bare feet and the holes in his jeans was an heir to one of the biggest fortunes in the country.

Hester took off her coat and, out of habit, went to the closet to hang it up. The man who spent his days writing the further adventures of Commander Zark came from a family who owned polo ponies and summer houses. Yet he lived on the fourth floor of a very ordinary apartment building in Manhattan.

He was attracted to her. She'd have had to be blind and deaf not to be certain of that, and yet she'd known him for weeks and he hadn't once mentioned his family or his position in an effort to impress her.

Who was he? she wondered. She'd begun to think she had a handle on him, but now he was a stranger all over again.

She had to call him, tell him she was home and to send Radley up. Hester looked at the phone with a feeling of acute embarrassment. She'd lectured him about spinning a tale to Mr. Rosen; then, in her softhearted and probably condescending way, she'd forgiven him. It all added up to her doing what she hated most. Making a fool of herself.

Swearing, Hester snatched up the phone. She would have felt much better if she could have rapped Mitchell Dempsey II over the head with it.

She'd dialed half the numbers when she heard Radley's howl of laughter and the sound of stomping feet in the hall outside. She opened the door just as Radley was digging his key out of his pocket.

Both of them were covered with snow. Some that was beginning to melt dripped from Radley's ski cap and boot tops. They looked unmistakably as if they'd been rolling in it.

“Hi, Mom. We've been in the park. We stopped by Mitch's to get my bag, then came on up because we thought you'd be home. Come on out with us.”

“I don't think I'm dressed for snow wars.”

She smiled and peeled off her son's snow-crusted cap, but Mitch noted, she didn't look up. “So change.” He leaned against the doorjamb, ignoring the snow that fell at his feet.

“I built a fort. Please come out and see. I already started a snow warrior, but Mitch said we should check in so you wouldn't worry.”

His consideration forced her to look up. “I appreciate that.”

He was watching her thoughtfully—too thoughtfully, Hester decided. “Rad says you build a pretty good snow warrior yourself.”

“Please, Mom. What if we got a freak heat wave and the snow was all gone tomorrow? It's like the greenhouse effect, you know. I read all about it.”

She was trapped and knew it. “All right, I'll change. Why don't you fix Mitch some hot chocolate and warm up?”

“All right!” Radley dropped down on the floor just inside the door. “You have to take off your boots,” he told Mitch. “She gets mad if you track up the carpet.”

Mitch unbuttoned his coat as Hester walked away. “We wouldn't want to make her mad.”

Within fifteen minutes, Hester had changed into corduroys, a bulky sweater and old boots. In place of her red coat was a blue parka that showed some wear. Mitch kept one hand on Taz's leash and the other in his pocket as they walked across to the park. He couldn't say why he enjoyed seeing her dressed casually with Radley's hand joined tight with hers. He couldn't say for certain why he'd wanted to spend this time with her, but it had been he who'd planted the idea of another outing in Radley's head, and he who'd suggested that they go up together to persuade her to come outside.

He liked the winter. Mitch took a deep gulp of cold air as they walked through the soft, deep snow of Central Park. Snow and stinging air had always appealed to him, particularly when the trees were draped in white and there were snow castles to be built.

When he'd been a boy, his family had often wintered in the Caribbean, away from what his mother had termed the “mess and inconvenience.” He'd picked up an affection for scuba and white sand, but had never felt that a palm tree replaced a pine at Christmas.

The winters he'd liked best had been spent in his uncle's country home in New Hampshire, where there'd been woods to walk in and hills to sled. Oddly enough, he'd been thinking of going back there for a few weeks—until the Wallaces popped up two floors above, that is. He hadn't realized until today that he'd shuffled those plans to the back of his mind as soon as he'd seen Hester and her son.

Now she was embarrassed, annoyed and uncomfortable. Mitch turned to study her profile. Her cheeks were already rosy with cold, and she'd made certain that Radley walked between them. He wondered if she realized how obvious her strategies were. She didn't use the boy, not in the way some parents used their offspring for their own ambitions or purposes. He respected her for that more than he could have explained. But she had, by putting Radley in the center, relegated Mitch to the level of her son's friend.

And so he was, Mitch thought with a smile. But he'd be damned if he was going to let it stop there.

“There's the fort. See?” Radley tugged on Hester's hand, then let it go to run, too impatient to wait any longer.

“Pretty impressive, huh?” Before she could avoid it, Mitch draped a casual arm over her shoulder. “He's really got a knack.”

Hester tried to ignore the warmth and pressure of his arm as she looked at her son's handiwork. The walls of the fort were about two feet high, smooth as stone, with one end sloping nearly a foot higher in the shape of a round tower. They'd made an arched doorway high enough for Radley to crawl through. When Hester reached the fort, she saw him pass through on his hands and knees and pop up inside, his arms held high.

“It's terrific, Rad. I imagine you had a great deal to do with it,” she said quietly to Mitch.

“Here and there.” Then he smiled, as though he was laughing at himself. “Rad's a better architect than I'll ever be.”

“I'm going to finish my snow warrior.” Belly down, Rad crawled through the opening again. “Build one, Mom, on the other side of the fort. They'll be the sentries.” Rad began to pack and smooth snow on his already half-formed figure. “You help her, Mitch, 'cause I've got a head start.”

“Fair's fair.” Mitch scooped up a handful of snow. “Any objections to teamwork?”

“No, of course not.” Still avoiding giving him a straight look, Hester knelt in the snow. Mitch dropped the handful of snow on her head.

“I figured that was the quickest way to get you to look at me.” She glared, then began to push the snow into a mound. “Problem, Mrs. Wallace?”

Seconds ticked by as she pushed at the snow. “I got a copy of
Who's Who.
”

“Oh?” Mitch knelt down beside her.

“You were telling the truth.”

“I've been known to from time to time.” He shoved some more snow on the mound she was forming. “So?”

Hester frowned and punched the snow into shape. “I feel like an idiot.”

“I told the truth, and you feel like an idiot.” Patiently Mitch smoothed over the base she was making. “Want to explain the correlation?”

“You let me lecture you.”

“It's kinda hard to stop you when you get rolling.”

Hester began to dig out snow with both hands to form the legs. “You let me think you were some poor, eccentric Good Samaritan. I was even going to offer to put patches on your jeans.”

“No kidding.” Incredibly touched, Mitch caught her chin in his snow-covered glove. “That's sweet.”

There was no way she was going to let his charm brush away the discomfort of her embarrassment. “The fact is, you're a rich, eccentric Good Samaritan.” She shoved his hand away and began to gather snow for the torso.

“Does this mean you won't patch my jeans?”

Hester's long-suffering breath came out in a white plume. “I don't want to talk about it.”

“Yes, you do.” Always helpful, Mitch packed on more snow and succeeded in burying her up to the elbows. “Money shouldn't bother you, Hester. You're a banker.”

“Money doesn't bother me.” She yanked her arms free and tossed two good-sized hunks of snow into his face. Because she had to fight back a giggle, she turned her back. “I just wish the situation had been made clear earlier, that's all.”

Mitch wiped the snow from his face, then scooped up more, running his tongue along the inside of his lip. He'd had a lot of experience in forming what he considered the ultimate snowball. “What's the situation, Mrs. Wallace?”

“I wish you'd stop calling me that in that tone of voice.” She turned, just in time to get the snowball right between the eyes.

“Sorry.” Mitch smiled, then began to brush off her coat. “Must've slipped. About this situation . . .”

“There is no situation between us.” Before she realized it, she'd shoved him hard enough to send him sprawling in the snow. “Excuse me.” Her laughter came out in hitches that were difficult to swallow. “I didn't mean to do that. I don't know what it is about you that makes me do things like that.” He sat up and continued to stare at her. “I
am
sorry,” she repeated. “I think it's best if we just let this other business drop. Now, if I help you up, will you promise not to retaliate?”

“Sure.” Mitch held out a gloved hand. The moment he closed it over hers, he yanked her forward. Hester went down, face first. “I don't
always
tell the truth, by the way.” Before she could respond, he wrapped his arms around her and began to roll.

“Hey, you're supposed to be building another sentry.”

“In a minute,” Mitch called to Rad, while Hester tried to catch her breath. “I'm teaching your mom a new game. Like it?” he asked her as he rolled her underneath him again.

“Get off me. I've got snow down my sweater, down my jeans—”

“No use trying to seduce me here. I'm stronger than that.”

“You're crazy.” She tried to sit up, but he pinned her beneath him.

“Maybe.” He licked a trace of snow from her cheek and felt her go utterly still. “But I'm not stupid.” His voice had changed. It wasn't the easy, carefree voice of her neighbor now, but the slow, soft tones of a lover. “You feel something for me. You may not like it, but you feel it.”

It wasn't the unexpected exercise that had stolen her breath, and she knew it. His eyes were so blue in the lowering sunlight, and his hair glistened with a dusting of snow. And his face was close, temptingly close. Yes, she felt something, she felt something almost from the first minute she saw him, but she wasn't stupid, either.

“If you let go of my arms, I'll show you just how I feel.”

“Why do I think I wouldn't like it? Never mind.” He brushed his lips over hers before she could answer. “Hester, the situation is this. You have feelings for me that have nothing to do with my money, because you didn't know until a few hours ago that I had any to speak of. Some of those feelings don't have anything to do with the fact that I'm fond of your son. They're very personal, as in you and me.”

He was right, absolutely and completely right. She could have murdered him for it. “Don't tell me how I feel.”

“All right.” After he spoke, he surprised her by rising and helping her to her feet. Then he took her in his arms again. “I'll tell you how
I
feel then. I care for you—more than I'd counted on.”

She paled beneath her cold-tinted cheeks. There was more than a hint of desperation in her eyes as she shook her head and tried to back away. “Don't say that to me.”

“Why not?” He struggled against impatience as he lowered his brow to hers. “You'll have to get used to it. I did.”

“I don't want this. I don't want to feel this way.”

He tipped her head back, and his eyes were very serious. “We'll have to talk about that.”

“No. There's nothing to talk about. This is just getting out of hand.”

“It's not out of hand yet.” He tangled his fingers in the tips of her hair, but his eyes never left hers. “I'm almost certain it will be before long, but it isn't yet. You're too smart and too strong for that.”

She'd be able to breathe easier in a moment. She was sure of it. She'd be able to breathe easier as soon as she was away from him. “No, I'm not afraid of you.” Oddly, she discovered that much was true.

“Then kiss me.” His voice was coaxing now, gentle. “It's nearly twilight. Kiss me, once, before the sun goes down.”

She found herself leaning into him, lifting her lips up and letting her lashes fall without questioning why it should seem so right, so natural to do as he asked. There would be questions later, though she was certain the answers wouldn't come as easily. For now, she touched her lips to his and found them cool, cool and patient.

The world was all ice and snow, forts and fairylands, but his lips were real. They fit on hers firmly, warming her soft, sensitive skin while the racing of her heart heated her body. There was the rushing whoosh of traffic in the distance, but closer, more intimate, was the whisper of her coat sliding against his as they pressed tighter together.

He wanted to coax, to persuade, and just once to see her lips curve into a smile as he left them. He knew there were times when a man who preferred action and impulse had to go step by step. Especially when the prize at the top was precious.

He hadn't been prepared for her, but he knew he could accept what was happening between them with more ease than she. There were still secrets tucked inside her, hurts that had only partially healed. He knew better than to wish for the power to wipe all that aside. How she'd lived and what had happened to her were all part of the woman she was. The woman he was very, very close to falling in love with.

So he would take it step by step, Mitch told himself as he placed her away from him. And he would wait.