The Bravos: Family Ties: The Bravo Family Way / Married in Haste / From Here to Paternity

Chapter Five

Danny took Cleo to Black Angus that night. Right after the waitress served their prime rib dinners, he asked if something was wrong.

For a moment she couldn’t quite meet his eyes. She stared down at her huge baked potato and the mound of sour cream exploding from it. “Good thing I’m not dancing anymore. After a dinner like this one, I’d get kicked off the show at the next weigh-in.”

Danny refused to let her change the subject. He asked softly, “You gonna answer my question, Cleo?”

She made herself look at him. “Oh, really. Nothing’s wrong. Nothing at all. Why?”

“You seem … I don’t know. Kind of sad.”

“But I’m not sad. Not in the least.” It came out sounding way too vehement. She smiled to show him it was no big deal.

He shrugged. “Maybe just distracted, then?”

“Well, okay. A little …”

“Over the deal with Impresario, right?”

She answered lamely, “It’s a big step.”

“Cleo?”

“What?”

“Relax. You’re going to do just fine.”

She beamed him an even bigger smile. “Somehow you always manage to say just the right thing.”

He came in for coffee when they got back to her house. As she was filling the drip basket with fresh-ground decaf, he came up behind her and wrapped his strong arms around her.

She jumped in surprise.

“Hey,” he whispered, smoothing her hair out of the way and pressing his lips to the side of her neck. “It’s only me….”

“No kidding.” She turned in the circle of his arms and rested her hands on his chest.

He whispered, “You’re so beautiful. And I’m crazy for you….” His mouth touched hers.

Cleo kissed him back. But her heart wasn’t really in it.

Danny knew it. He pulled away and gave her a rueful smile. “Not in the mood, huh?” He was too much of a gentleman to mention that she hadn’t been in the mood since a little over a week ago. Since the day she’d met—

She cut that thought off before it went any further. This had nothing to do with any other man. A whole lot had happened in the past week. She was taking on a huge new project. It was only natural that she would be a little bit distracted….

“Danny, I’m sorry. I—”

He laid a light finger against her lips. “Shh. It’s okay.” He stepped back. “Go on, make that coffee.”

She felt as though she ought to say something, to explain herself somehow. But she didn’t want to make a big deal about this. Because it wasn’t a big deal. She was busy and preoccupied and, well, Danny had said it himself: just not in the mood.

Turning back to the coffeemaker, she finished loading the basket.

In the days that followed, Cleo hit the floor running every morning and collapsed into bed exhausted every night.

She bought equipment and supplies, reworked the program guidelines for each of the classes, tweaking and improving so she could start out with the best study blueprint possible at the new location—and keep things fresh and exciting at the original school, as well. She called a big meeting with her current staff, explained her plans for expansion and asked for volunteers to move to the new location. The idea was to take at least a few experienced people over to Impresario so that the new facility wouldn’t be starting with all new hires. It worked. Two teachers—she had six teachers in various capacities at the original location—and three aides said they’d be happy to make the move.

Cleo knew that to expand effectively, she was going to need a really good associate director, someone who could step in and hold down the fort at one location whenever Cleo was needed at the other. Fortunately she found just the right woman for the job on the first day of interviews. A former elementary school assistant principal, Megan Helsberg had the right education and training, the right experience and excellent references. She was also available to start immediately.

Brian Klimas’s security check on Megan came back clean, so Cleo had Megan work with her to hire the rest of the new staff. Megan caught on quickly, but her job duties were varied and complex; there was a lot for her to learn. Cleo trained her as they worked—all while continuing her director’s duties at the first KinderWay and preparing the Impresario facility for its grand opening on Valentine’s Day.

Cleo and Danny hardly saw each other. There was simply no time. Once she finished a day’s work on the new facility, she had to play catch-up at the old one. She was at her desk every night until after ten, determined to keep up her standards at the existing KinderWay and also to honor her contract with the Bravo Group to deliver a top-quality service and to open the doors to the new facility on time.

Cleo and Megan met with Darlene Archer on Friday, the fourth, in the HR offices at Impresario. Darlene was impressed with the progress they’d made. Cleo promised they’d be ready to open on the fourteenth—and realized as she made that promise that they had a very good chance of making it.

Darlene gave them the access code to the student list. It contained all the basic information on the students who would be showing up for preschool on Valentine’s Day, including emergency phone numbers and a health profile for each child. With that code, she already had all the information usually gleaned from the endless forms that parents filled out at enrollment. The new KinderWay would be operating at capacity from the first day it opened its doors.

Saturday, Cleo went to Ashlyn’s birthday party at the Adventuredome.

Fletcher, looking heartbreaker-handsome in a light cashmere sweater and dark slacks, greeted her with a cool smile. “I’m glad you could come.”

“I’m so pleased Ashlyn invited me.”

They traded a few more generic pleasantries. As she made the obligatory small talk, she felt … desperate, somehow, just at the sight of him, at the sound of his deep, tempting voice.

Yes, desperate. And sad.

My God. I’ve missed him.

As quickly as the thought took form, she banished it. He turned to greet another guest, and Cleo moved away, into the group of kids and parents that had formed nearby while they waited for everyone to arrive.

For the rest of the afternoon she kept her distance from the father of the birthday girl. It wasn’t all that difficult; he made no effort to get close to her. She watched Ashlyn and her friends take on the junior rides—the Frog Jump and the Miner Mike roller coaster and the miniature airplane ride. She enjoyed the magic show and the clowns. There were also “family” rides, where the kids needed an adult to ride with them.

For one of those, a Ferris wheel called Drifters where the cars looked like hot-air balloons, Ashlyn ran up and slipped a small hand into hers. “Cleo. Ride on the big balloons with me, please?”

Cleo looked down into those serious eyes and all at once her chest was too tight to contain her heart. There was just something about Fletcher’s little girl, something so sweet and honest and special….

Ashlyn was frowning. “Cleo? Are you sad?”

Was she sad? It was the question Danny had asked her more than once—and also the way she had felt when she’d faced Fletcher again today for the first time in over a week.

Cleo smiled. “Right now I’m just … happy for you.” She squeezed the little hand tucked so trustingly into her own. “Congratulations on being five years old.”

Ashlyn’s frown faded. “Thank you.” A few feet away Fletcher boosted a little boy onto his shoulders—a little boy with blue eyes and the cutest kid-size cleft in his chin. “That’s my cousin, Davey,” Ashlyn explained. “He’s three. Sometimes he makes me crazy, but mostly he’s all right. Daddy has to take care of him because Aunt Celia couldn’t come to my party after all. She had to have a baby yesterday.”

So Celia had delivered her baby at last. “Wow. That’s exciting. Boy or girl?”

“A girl. She’s my new cousin and her name is Jillian Jane. She got her name from Aunt Celia’s two best friends in the whole wide world, my aunt Jillian and my aunt Jane. But my great-aunt Caitlin said the baby looked like a J.J. That made everybody laugh, though I don’t really understand why it was funny. After that, they all called her little J.J. It’s her Nick name, Daddy told me. That’s kind of funny, huh? You get another name and it’s called your Nick name even though you don’t even know anybody named Nick?” Ashlyn frowned again. “I don’t have one.”

“A nickname, you mean?”

“That’s right. I don’t. Do you?”

“Yep. My nickname is Cleo.”

Ashlyn’s big eyes got even wider. “Then what’s your real name?”

“Cleopatra.”

Ashlyn tested the word. “Clee-o-pat-ra. It’s very long.”

“Cleopatra was once the queen of a country called Egypt.”

Ashlyn considered. “A queen? Really?”

“Yes.”

“I like Cleo better.”

“Good. Because that’s what everyone calls me.”

“Did you know that I’m going to go to your school?”

“Yes, I did.”

“My daddy told me. Livvy’s leaving next week and I will go to your school when she’s gone. I’ll miss Livvy lots, but I think I’m getting old enough that I should be going to school.”

“I’m very pleased that you’ll be one of our students—and I think we just missed our balloon ride.”

“Oh, that’s all right.” Ashlyn tugged on Cleo’s hand. “Come on. We can get in line and ride the next time….”

They ended up riding with Fletcher and Davey. The kids laughed and cried out in delight as they rose toward the pink Adventuredome sky—and Cleo tried not to let her gaze collide with Fletcher’s.

Later, before the cake and ice cream, Ashlyn opened her presents. Cleo had given her a stack of books—some by Dr. Seuss and some by Shel Silverstein and one of Cleo’s personal favorites called Goodnight, Moon. Ashlyn tore off the bright birthday paper, let out a glad cry and then jumped down from her chair. She rushed over to Cleo and held out her arms. Cleo bent down and Ashlyn grabbed her around the neck in a tight hug.

“Cleo, how did you know I love books?”

“Easy. The first time I saw you, you were reading The Funny Little Bunny to Olivia.”

“That’s right. You come over to my house, okay? I’ll read to you.”

Cleo was far too aware of Fletcher sitting across the big round table. She made the mistake of glancing his way. He was looking right at her.

She met those haunting eyes and she felt it—that familiar heat burning beneath her skin. Her heart stuttered, then started racing….

She tore her gaze from his and focused on Ashlyn again. “You’ll be going to my school soon, remember?”

“Acourse I remember.”

Cleo smoothed the silky brown hair. “You can read to me there, at school.”

“Okay. I will.” Ashlyn grabbed her in another hug and planted a big wet kiss on her cheek. Then she returned to her chair and the pile of birthday presents still waiting to be opened.

Ashlyn really was something, Cleo found herself thinking, so thoughtful and mature for her age. Fletcher’s daughter exclaimed over each gift as she opened it and seemed sincere in her excitement every time. She didn’t come across as spoiled in the least—and that was surprising. In Cleo’s experience, children of doting wealthy parents tended to get big attitudes early on.

After the presents came the cake. They all sang the birthday song. Then Ashlyn made her wish and blew out her five candles in one breath. Olivia and another young woman worked together to serve up the cake, piling generous scoops of vanilla ice cream on top.

It was five o’clock in no time. Cleo got another hug from Ashlyn and said a quick thank-you and goodbye to Fletcher and she was out of there.

That night Danny asked her again if something was wrong. Again she told him there was nothing. She saw in his eyes that even he, so patient and always understanding, was growing tired of the way she avoided his touch.

After he left, she lay awake much too late, hating herself for not treating him right, actually beginning to admit that the best and most honest thing to do would be to break things off with him.

And no, she had no intention of getting anything started with … anyone else. But Danny was such a fine man. He deserved a woman who couldn’t keep her hands off him. Cleo wasn’t that woman. At least, not anymore.

She had a while to think it over. Danny left town Sunday for two big car shows, one in Phoenix and a second in Southern California. He wouldn’t return until the fifteenth or sixteenth. By then, the new KinderWay should be open and operating. Things wouldn’t be so hectic. She would sit down with him and they would talk it out, come to a real understanding—one way or the other.

The week sped by, as stressful, busy and exciting as the one before it. Cleo and Megan worked straight through the weekend.

Their efforts paid off. On Monday, the fourteenth of February, KinderWay at Impresario opened its doors.

Cleo had opted to spend that first morning going from classroom to classroom, checking out the various first-day welcoming activities, seeing that everything ran smoothly. She happened to be in the three-year-olds’ room when Celia Bravo dropped Davey off. She had her new baby with her.

Cleo went straight for that baby. “I hear you’re calling her J.J.”

Celia sighed. “I’m afraid so.”

“May I …?”

Celia beamed her a wide smile. “Absolutely.”

So Cleo held out her hungry arms and Celia laid the warm bundle in them. Cleo gazed down at the bald pink head, the rosebud of a mouth and the tiny turned-up nose. “Beautiful …”

“I think so,” Celia agreed. “But then, I am her mother.” Celia turned to kiss Davey goodbye, but her son was already occupied, playing blocks with a couple of the other kids. She cast Cleo a wry glance. “As you can see, he can’t get along without me.”

“Looks like a well-adjusted boy to me.”

“And I’m glad he is—but a big hug and a kiss goodbye would be nice.”

Davey turned and waved. “‘Bye, Mommy. Come back and see me soon.”

Cleo, who couldn’t bear to let go of that warm pink bundle just yet, suggested, “Come on, I’ll walk you out.”

They ran into Fletcher in the central breezeway that connected the classrooms. He’d just dropped Ashlyn off with the five-year-olds. He greeted Cleo and Celia and remarked that things seemed to be off to a great start.

“So far, so good.” Cleo glanced up from J.J.’s sweet little face and into the eyes that haunted her dreams. Quickly she looked down at the baby again.

Celia said, “Cleo got her hands on my baby and now she won’t let go.”

Cleo laughed and smoothed the pink blanket, then stroked one plump and perfect little hand. “Oh, don’t I wish …” And then she made the mistake of glancing up a second time. Her laughter faded as her gaze locked with Fletcher’s.

Trouble, she thought. I’m in big, big trouble here.

She made herself turn to Celia. “I suppose I’m going to have to give her back to you….”

Celia took the baby and they started for the nearest of the three gates that led out to the parking lot behind Hotel Impresario. Along the way they passed other parents with their kids. They waved and shared greetings as they went by.

When they got to the gate, Fletcher put his hand on Cleo’s arm. She felt that touch far too acutely, as she’d felt every one of his touches since that first day they’d met. “I need a few minutes.”

Carefully she pulled her arm free. “Sure.”

“This is where J.J. and I came in.” Celia left them, taking the sidewalk around the KinderWay fence, heading toward the hotel. More parents with children approached the gate.

Fletcher took her hand, capturing her fingers, wrapping them around his arm. “How about your office?”

“All right.” And she let him lead her, as if she didn’t know the way, back through the gate and along the breezeway.

She knew she should probably pull away again. But she didn’t. She kept thinking it shouldn’t matter as much as it did—the touch of his hand on hers, the feel of his warm, hard arm beneath the fine fabric of his suit jacket, the heat of his lean body so close to her side.

They entered the main office. The new secretary, RaeAnne, smiled as they passed her desk. “Cleo. Mr. Bravo …”

“We’ll just be a few minutes, RaeAnne,” Cleo said. “No calls or interruptions. Not unless there’s bleeding involved.”

“Got it.”

Cleo let go of Fletcher’s arm—and felt her heart contract at losing hold of him.

No doubt about it. Trouble. Capital T.

“This way.” She opened the door to her office and ushered him inside, gesturing at a guest chair. He sat and she went to her chair behind the beautiful desk he’d had built just for her. “Now,” she said, sounding brisk and businesslike and feeling anything but. “What’s up?”

He studied her for a moment before he spoke. She felt his gaze as if it were a physical touch. At last he said, “You’ve done an amazing job with this project. I didn’t really believe you’d succeed in doing what you’ve done here—not in two and a half weeks, anyway.”

She couldn’t resist reminding him, “I believe you chose the time frame.”

He gave her one of those regal nods of his. “I did. I like setting impossible goals. They make people try harder. And you did.” Another regal nod, then he said, “Well done.”

“Thank you.” So. He’d only taken her aside to give her a pat on the back for the work she’d done.

That was good. She was pleased. He wasn’t putting any moves on her and she wanted it that way.

Too bad she felt so let down.

He asked, “Aren’t you glad now that I wouldn’t leave you alone until you agreed to go for it?”

To her, the question had more than one level of meaning. She reminded herself not to go to those other levels. “Yes, I am. It’s worked out beautifully.”

He slid a hand into the inside pocket of his suit coat and produced a red leather jeweler’s box embossed with gold.

Another gift.

Well. So much for a purely professional pat on the back. Damn him. She had told him not to—

“Don’t,” he said, as if she had spoken her objections aloud—which she hadn’t. Yet.

“Fletcher, I asked you not to—”

He raised his free hand for silence as he set the red box on her desk. “Open it.”

“No.”

Her refusal didn’t faze him in the least. “All right. I’ll open it for you.” He took the box again, raised the lid and set it down facing her so she could see what waited inside.

A watch. White gold or maybe platinum, with a black alligator band. A small, oh-so-tasteful row of diamonds running down either side of the square face and the single word Cartier beneath the upper numerals. A go-anywhere watch. Gorgeous and simple and absolutely perfect.

And very, very expensive.

He explained, “It’s engraved on the back with the date and ‘KinderWay at Impresario’—and don’t look at me like that. Yes, it’s a gift. A strictly professional one. To commemorate a job much more than well done.”

Strictly professional. Did she believe him?

Yes. No. She didn’t know.

She did know that the watch was beautiful and she had done a hell of a job in the past weeks and … yes, she wanted it.

What did that make her? A professional justifiably proud of her latest accomplishment? Or a woman finally saying yes to a man’s slow, relentless seduction?

Or both?

The really scary thing was that it didn’t matter what it made her. Whether this gift was strictly professional or not, she was keeping it.