A Compromising Affair

A Compromising Affair
Gwynne Forster

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Dear Reader,

I hope you have enjoyed the first four books featuring the Harrington family. Over the years, many of you wrote urging me to write another story about this engaging family, and so the saga continues. The first story, Once in a Lifetime, introduced the three brothers and featured Telford, the eldest Harrington. Following Telford’s romance, After the Loving profiled the story of fiery and stubborn Russ Harrington, the middle brother, whose sizzling but often rocky relationship ended in wedded bliss. The third story, Love Me or Leave Me, featured strikingly handsome yet enigmatic Drake, the youngest of the three brothers, who was serious-minded and devoted to his family and the woman he loved.

In Love Me Tonight, Judson Phillips, a man searching for his biological parents, discovers that he is related to the Harrington clan and finally finds the family and loving kinship he’s always longed for. In this novel, A Compromising Affair, the Harringtons embrace Ambassador Scott Galloway, Judson’s best friend, whose difficult relationship with Denise Miller engages the entire family in an effort to bring the two together. I hope you have an opportunity to read all the books in the Harringtons series.

I enjoy receiving mail, so please email me at GwynneF@aol.com. If you’d like to reach me by postal mail, contact me at P.O. Box 45, New York, NY 10044, and if you would like a reply, please enclose a self-addressed, stamped envelope. For more information, please contact my agent, Pattie Steel-Perkins, Steel-Perkins Literary Agency, email MYAGENTSPLA@aol.com.

Warmest regards,

Gwynne Forster

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

To the memory of Walter Zacharius, founder of

Kensington Publishing, whose foresight helped publish

the first line of African-American romances. I shall always

remember him with gratitude and affection.

I am indebted to all of the wonderful people who’ve

helped me in any way as I’ve breezed through life almost

undeterred. To my dear mother, who taught me how to

handle the few hard knocks that came my way; to my

beloved husband, who fills my life with joy; and to my

Heavenly Father, who gave me wonderful talents and

many opportunities in which to use them.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Prologue

Scott Galloway had one cardinal rule: he was never late. He abhorred tardiness. But owing to exceptional circumstances, he arrived at Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport with only forty minutes to spare before he needed to fasten his seat belt on flight DL7777. His secretary had already checked him in, so he made a dash for security, and then suddenly stopped.

He didn’t have a second to spare, but as he hurried through the terminal he noticed an old woman sitting beside two pieces of luggage. He couldn’t leave without finding out whether she needed help.

“Are you alone, ma’am?” he asked her, glancing at his watch.

“Son, I’ve been sitting here in this airport for forty-five minutes. The taxi driver brought my bags inside and left me, and I’m still here.”

The air rushed out of him as he thought about the possibility of missing his flight. There was no way he was going to arrive late for his first assignment as an ambassador. But he thought of his beloved grandmother back in Baltimore and her insistence upon driving alone wherever she went.

“I’ll be back in a minute, ma’am.” He found an airport security officer. “I’m about to miss my flight,” he told the man, “but a woman sitting over there needs help.”

“What’s your flight number?” the man asked. Scott told him. “Come with me.” They went to where the old woman sat with her bags. “Do you know your flight number, ma’am?”

“Flight DL7777. I get off in Copenhagen.”

“Both of you come with me.” The security officer got a wheelchair for the woman, checked her in, gave her a ticket, rushed her through security and got both of them to the gate minutes before the door to the aircraft closed.

Scott took his seat in first class, nearly out of breath but with the satisfaction one gets from having done a good deed. He enjoyed a pleasant flight and conversation with his seatmate, a Dane en route to Copenhagen, until sleep overcame him. The next morning the plane made its scheduled landing in Copenhagen, Denmark, and passengers began to disembark. He walked to the plane’s exit door along with his seatmate and waited until he saw the elderly woman.

“There you are,” she said with a smile that reflected her delight in seeing him. “Give me your card, please.” She looked at it, and her eyes widened. “An ambassador? And you almost missed the flight helping me.”

“We both made it, ma’am. I wouldn’t have felt right leaving you there.” He turned to the man who had been his seatmate. “Will you see that she gets a taxi?” He reached in his pocket for money to pay for the taxi.

“No, please,” the Danish man said. “It will be my pleasure to see that she gets home safely.”

Scott bade them goodbye and went back to his seat as the plane resumed the next leg of the flight. Late that day, he finally arrived in Vilnius, Lithuania—a city with a dreary, baroque facade—for the first time. When he stepped off the plane, the first secretary of the embassy greeted him.

“Welcome, Mr. Ambassador, and welcome to Lithuania. We have been awaiting you with great anticipation.”

“Thank you.” Scott shook his head. Mr. Ambassador, he thought. He had worked long and hard for the title, and he loved the sound of it. But as he looked around at the difference between what he saw and what he had left behind in the States, he wondered what his two-year tour would mean, personally and professionally.

Several days later, he received a personal letter, and the backward-slanted handwriting on the envelope puzzled him. He opened it and read:

Dear Ambassador Galloway,

Thank you for coming to my rescue in Reagan National Airport and for introducing me to Lars Erickson, who lives about eight blocks from me. He took me home. I think it may be time I stopped traveling around the world by myself. But I wanted to see the States, and I’m so glad I went there.

My trip could have ended badly, but for you. However, what you did for me wasn’t a surprise, because you are a charitable man. I knew you would come along, so I wasn’t afraid. You’ll do well in Lithuania, though you won’t like the place very much.

Your happiness is in the States. You’ve already seen her, but your interest was elsewhere, and you didn’t notice. Besides, you were a little peeved. She’s very near to your older brother. I’m not a fortune-teller. I see. And I am never wrong. So enjoy your work in Vilnius and then go back home. Your happiness is there.

Yours,

Helga Wilander

P.S. You do like horses, don’t you?

Scott read the letter several times. If she were a seer, why didn’t she know that he didn’t have an older brother? He was the eldest son. He decided to write and ask her.

Dear Mrs. Wilander,

I was glad to hear from you and to know that you arrived home safely. I liked what you said about my future, but I don’t have an older brother, unless there’s something that I don’t know about? If you get a notion to travel again soon, why not visit me here in Vilnius?

Yours,

Scott Galloway

Six days later, Scott looked through his incoming mail and saw Helga’s unusual scrawl. He slit open the envelope and read:

Dear Scott,

I knew you’d answer, but I hadn’t thought I’d get your letter so soon. Of course I know you don’t have an older blood brother, Scott. But you have an older buddy with whom you are closer than most blood brothers, and you have been since you were five or six years old. Trust me, Scott. You’ll find her near your brother. Maybe when I get the urge to travel again, I’ll pay you a visit.

Your friend,

Helga

Scott folded the letter and put it in his wallet. All the women around his friend Judson, who he had to admit was like an older brother, were married. And Heather, Judson’s fiancée, didn’t have a sister or any close female friends that he knew of. In fact, he was Heather’s best buddy.

“Nobody can accurately predict the future,” he said to himself. “And that includes Helga Wilander.” With a dismissive shrug, he flicked on his desk lamp and settled down to the business of being a United States ambassador.

Chapter 1

Two years later…

Scott Galloway stared out of his office window into the cold sunlight of a June morning in Vilnius, Lithuania, a small country situated between Belarus and the Baltic Sea. Two years in the diplomatic outpost had gone by far more quickly than he had anticipated. He had made a difference in the lives of the people working at the embassy and in the quality of diplomatic relationships between the United States and Lithuania. But for the past two years, his personal life had been on hold.

He zipped up his leather toiletries case, put it and his laptop in his small carry-on bag and paused for a moment. He slowly perused his office and the photo of him that hung alongside those of the U.S. president and the secretary of state, which brought a smile to his face. Then, he shrugged and headed out the door and down the corridor to the exit, where the embassy staff had lined up to tell him goodbye.

“We’ll miss you, sir,” one of the embassy officers said. “You made this place come alive.”

He didn’t give the statement much credence. If he had brought life to the place, it must certainly have been dead a long time before he got there. “Thank you, Aggie. You’ve been of immense help.” Although the comment lacked veracity, it was bound to inflate her already oversize ego. But the next ambassador would have to deal with her.

“I hate to see you go, sir,” an older man, a native of Vilnius, said to him. “They said I was too old to work and they were going to fire me. I don’t know what I’ll do now.”

“I left a letter recommending you to the next ambassador, so don’t worry. You’re one of the best workers here.” He patted the man on the shoulder and was about to depart, when the elderly janitor, Misha, pressed something into Scott’s hand. “It’s from my mother. She’s a hundred and one. Since you came, it was the first time she’d tasted caviar in forty years. She gave me this to give to you.”

Deeply touched, he thanked the man. “Give your mother my love and my humble thanks.”

A young-looking man ran toward him, seemingly out of breath. “This just came, sir.” He handed Scott a letter marked personal. He recognized the handwriting of Helga Wilander, the woman he’d befriended en route to Lithuania when he’d first arrived. He put the letter inside the breast pocket of his suit jacket, waved to the staff, got into the waiting limousine and headed for the airport. His first tour as United States ambassador was behind him. He exhaled a long breath, sat back and contemplated what he imagined was his future.

Remembering the envelope that Misha had given him, he opened it and gasped when he saw the six-by-eight-inch Russian icon of Mary, painted on silver and set in an old hammered silver frame. He looked at it for a long time, put it back in the envelope, wrote the old man’s name on the envelope and put it in his briefcase. It was probably the most valuable object that Misha owned, and Scott vowed to write and thank him as soon as he was settled into his new job.

An airport attendant ushered him into the VIP lounge, where a waiter immediately placed a tray with coffee and assorted sweets in front of him. He would have appreciated fruit, any kind of fruit, since that was the one thing that was hard to find during the long winter months in Vilnius. The embassy got fruit from the States for special occasions, but only rarely. He couldn’t wait to sink his teeth into some blueberries. The woman who sat facing him in the lounge smiled, and asked if he would like company.

“No, thank you,” he said, not sure why such a good-looking and seemingly wealthy woman would be on the make in an international airport. Just the place to find a wealthy man, to make a seemingly innocent connection or to engage in covert espionage, he thought.

He gave the woman his most rakish smile, and when she didn’t back off, he said, “Nothing would be more enjoyable, but I have to hand in this report immediately after I land, so I’ll be working for the next ten hours solid.”

She pursed her lips in what appeared to be a pout. “Not even time out for an itsy-bitsy drink?”

He let a grin float over his face. “A guy’s got to work if he wants to eat. Thanks, I’m going to get started on this work.”

If she hadn’t pouted, he might have thought he’d misread her, but he hadn’t. She was a plant, though he couldn’t imagine why. He opened his laptop and got to work. Later, when she didn’t board the plane in either first or business class, he knew he’d been right in his assessment. His experiences over the past two years had been a great teacher, reinforcing his conviction that you couldn’t accept women at their word, sometimes not even at their behavior and definitely not based on looks. Nowadays, sultry smiles, perfectly shaped bosoms and swinging hips barely got his attention.

He smiled to himself, though he was not amused. The last time he’d misjudged a woman’s intentions, she had handed him one of the most painful lessons of his life. He’d fallen for a girl his freshman year in college, only to learn that she was very different than what she seemed—especially after she was arrested and expelled from school. But he quickly got over her. However, Louise Fiske was a different story.

For months, she’d sworn that he was the only man for her. But when he needed her, she’d let him down with a resounding thud. After agreeing to accompany him to a fraternity social where he was to receive a prestigious award in his senior year, she inexplicably disappeared. Concerned for her safety, he ended up missing the awards ceremony. How was he to know that she’d been leading him on, and was secretly dating another guy? Now, years later, he remembered those lessons and swore that he’d never make those mistakes again, and he’d kept that promise.

A heavyset middle-aged man took the seat beside him in first class, whispered a prayer and almost immediately took out some photographs from his briefcase. A smile covered his face as he gazed at the pictures.

Scott hadn’t planned to initiate a conversation with the stranger, but curiosity prompted him. “Your family?” he asked the man.

“Yes. For the past year, I’ve been working as a construction engineer in Vilnius. I couldn’t leave the job, so I’ve never seen my infant son. I can’t wait to get home. I have twin daughters, too,” the man went on as if the floodgates had opened up. “They’re my life. We thought we couldn’t have any more children due to my wife’s age—she was thirty-five when we married, which is usually not good news if you want to start a family. But this little fellow is healthy, and I thank God all the time.” The man shook his head as if amazed by the miracle of it. He handed Scott the photograph.

“I resisted getting married, but I’m happier than I ever thought I’d be. You got kids?”

Scott stared at the photograph and handed it back to the man. “Not that I know of. I’ve been so busy with my career that I’ve let some important areas of my life slide. But when I get home, I’m going to put first things first.”

“You’re right. I said I’d make my first million before I was thirty-five, and I put living on hold,” the man said.

“Money is necessary, but it won’t buy any of the things that make me happy. Go for it,” the man said. “Life is short.”

Scott could no longer bear to look at the expression of pure joy on the man’s face as he gazed at the pictures of his three children. Scott took pride in his accomplishments, since he was by any measure a success. But he needed more, a different kind of fulfillment. For two years, he had retired every evening to his personal quarters, taken off the diplomatic mask and settled into a loneliness that he couldn’t escape. Sure, he was satisfied with the choices he’d made, but not with the sacrifices.

He lifted his glass to his seatmate. “Thanks. Here’s to a good life.”

The man took a sip after the toast, but a quizzical expression soon spread across his face. “I appreciate your goodwill, but why did you thank me?” the man asked.

Scott savored the glass of wine, held the glass up and drained it. “The people I meet in my line of work are chasing something—dreams, money, status, promotions, women, whatever,” he said. “But you stuck with your values, found what you need and recognized it when you got it. That’s rare. I hope to do the same.”

Ten hours later, when the plane landed at Reagan National Airport, Scott had decided he was going to give himself one year in which to settle down and start a family. He realized it was a tall order, but he also knew that his bosses wouldn’t give him more than a year between overseas assignments. He had no intention of spending another year wearing Brooks Brothers suits with shoes that shone like glass, working five, and sometimes seven, days a week, making certain that his face bore just the right expression as he carefully watched every word he uttered, only to be rewarded with lonely, celibate nights.

Where would he start? Of the women he knew and liked, he couldn’t see himself sharing his life with any of them. A State Department chauffeur and car met him at the airport and took him to the Willard Inter-Continental hotel, where reservations had been made for him. He usually didn’t require that kind of luxury, but it went with the job.

After checking in, he went to his suite. There, he dropped his bag near the door and headed for the kitchen, where he knew he’d find some fresh fruit. When his superior at the State Department had asked his preference for a hotel, he’d said he didn’t care where they put him up so long as he found plenty of fresh citrus and berries in the refrigerator. He washed a handful of blueberries and savored them.

Home. How sweet it is, he thought.

He resisted the temptation to go to bed at three in the afternoon and telephoned Judson Philips-Sparkman, his closest friend since the age of five.

“Attorney Philips-Sparkman speaking.”

“Man, half of that name is enough. Saying the whole thing is a damned tongue twister.”

“Scott! Where the hell are you? Aren’t you due back soon?”

“I am, and I’m here.”

“What? When? You mean you’re in D.C.?”

“I’m at the Willard in a nothing-left-to-the-imagination suite. The plane landed about two and a half hours ago. How’s Heather? You two getting along all right?”

“Heather’s fine, and of course we’re getting along. If you mean at the office, we’ve easily worked that out. She has clients, and I have clients. We consult with each other, offer and give advice, but we don’t interfere in each other’s cases.”

“That’s good. Is her office as big as yours?”

Laughter seemed to roar out of Judson at the question. “Truthfully I’d give anything to say no, but they’re exactly the same size. I furnished mine to suit me, and she did the same in hers. By the way, when I try to help her out, she gives me a hard time. I hope she does the same when you meddle in her business. How soon can you get over here?”

“I want to hand in my report the day after tomorrow, so I can probably get there late Friday afternoon.”

“Why not spend the weekend with us? Check out of the hotel, and I’ll pick you up, say, at three-thirty. How’s that?”

“Works for me. Give Heather my love. See you Friday.”

Since he didn’t have any casual clothes with him, he decided to walk up to F Street, where he bought two pairs of jeans, half a dozen T-shirts and a pair of Reeboks. All he wanted was a chance to soak up some sun, be himself with his friends and leave the ambassador behind. After checking in with his father and younger brother, he showered and crawled into bed for a nap.

He awakened around six-thirty and called his grandmother, whom he had spoken to while en route to the hotel. “Hi, Nana. How about going out to dinner with me tonight?’

“As long as you feed me Maryland crab cakes. I love Italian and French food, but you know I love my crab cakes.”

“You’re on. I’ll be there in an hour.”

His office had advised him not to check out, but to remain in the hotel until he could move into his condo and his belongings had arrived from Vilnius. So, when Judson arrived on Friday afternoon, Scott was leaning against the reservation desk waiting for him.

“Lord, man, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” Scott said as he and Judson greeted each other with a warm embrace. “Marriage agrees with you, buddy.”

“You bet it does. Wait ’til you get to know my cousins and their families.”

“I liked what I’ve seen of them already. How is Heather dealing with such a big family?”

“You’ll see. Neither of us hangs around the office.”

“If you’d told me otherwise, I would have thought something was wrong with your marriage. You’ve only been married for, let’s see, eighteen months.”

“Best year and a half of my life. Let’s take the elevator down to the garage level.”

Judson drove his Mercedes out of the hotel garage onto Wisconsin Avenue, connected to Route 270 and headed for Frederick, Maryland. “We’re right in Eagle Park next to the Harrington estate, and that’s less than fifteen minutes from Frederick. Everybody’s expecting you. How’s Nana?”

“Great. We had dinner the night I got back.”

Half an hour later, Judson parked in front of a stately beige-colored brick house. The first-floor windows provided a glimpse of the cathedral ceilings and the elegant interior. “We told Russ what we wanted the house to look like,” Judson explained, “and he designed it to perfection. Drake and Telford did the rest. We’re so happy here.”

The door opened, and Heather greeted him with open arms. “I haven’t hugged a woman since I was here for your wedding eighteen months ago,” Scott said, enjoying Heather’s warm embrace.

“Just don’t get too comfortable there, buddy,” Judson told him.

The three of them went inside arm in arm. Once inside, a tall, good-looking woman in skin-tight jeans and a snug red T-shirt walked toward them. Heather grasped the woman’s arm. “Adelle Smith, this is Scott Galloway. Scott’s just completed a tour as ambassador to Lithuania. Scott, Adelle is one of my law associates.”

They greeted each other, although she seemed a bit more enthusiastic than Scott. “How do you do, Adelle?” he said, preferring not to say that he was delighted to meet her since he wasn’t so sure.

“I’m fine, Scott. Heather has told me so much about you. I couldn’t wait to meet such an impressive man.” Her smile bordered on an invitation, as he realized he was facing a woman who didn’t mind letting a man know that she liked what she saw.

He raised an eyebrow. “Heather, you never used to exaggerate. Does marriage do that to a person?”

“Of course not. I told her you’re like my big brother, and that I’m very protective of you. I also said you’re a super guy.”

Hmm. So he’d have to negotiate with Adelle for the remainder of the weekend, he thought. The problem was that, although she had the goods in all the right places, he did not like aggressive women who chose men on the basis of sex appeal. Besides, she’d made up her mind before she saw him.

Just play it cool, he said to himself. But how was he going to do that when he was sexually starved, and she’d let him know that nourishment was available?

“I’ll show you to your room, Scott,” Heather said, saving the day.

He followed her upstairs. “How far apart are these guest rooms, Heather, and does mine have a lock on the door?” Scott said.

She stopped at the top of the stairs, as her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. She stared at him, utterly speechless. Then she laughed so hard that she practically doubled over clutching her stomach. Scott slapped her on the back to help her recover.

“I’d forgotten how frank you can be,” she said.

“Don’t tell me I struck out.”

“I’m as hungry as an Alaskan wolf at the end of winter. But if I hook up with that one, I’ll never find what I really want.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

“A gentleman never says anything bad about a woman, no matter what the circumstances.”

“Chicken.”

She opened the door to the guest room. He tried the doorknob to make sure that it would lock, looked at Heather and winked.

“You were serious, weren’t you?” Heather said with a note of surprise in her voice.

He didn’t want her to misunderstand him. “Heather, that woman downstairs would take advantage of a drunken sailor. I’ll be down shortly.”

“Scott, please don’t be mad. I meant well,” she said, blinking rapidly, a subtle tic that appeared when she was nonplussed. “Honestly, I did. I’m remembering things about you now that I had forgotten during these past two years while you were away. You’re right. I definitely didn’t choose the right one.”

A grin spread across his face. It was so good to be back with his two dearest friends. “Knowing you, I’m sure you’ve got some more lined up. See you later.”

He let his gaze take in the decor of the room around him. He liked blue, and Heather had furnished the guest room in a light navy blue and rustic orange for a striking effect. He changed into black jeans and a red polo shirt, slipped on his new Reeboks and bounded down the wide, curved staircase. Russ Harrington was indeed a brilliant architect, Scott thought. He’d said as much to Judson.

“All three of them are good at what they do,” said Judson. “They have a tremendous reputation as builders, and Telford, the eldest, is only forty-one. The Harringtons are coming over with their wives after dinner. And the Harrington women have taken to Heather and made her one of their own.”

“So you’re glad you decided to live here?”

“Absolutely! My family is here. Scott, this is where I belong.”

“I’m glad for you, Judson. Say, I brought you guys something,” Scott said, handing Judson a box that contained half a dozen tins of Beluga caviar.

Judson looked at the contents of the box. “Get outta here, man. This stuff is precious. Let me see if Rosa has any crème fraîche.”

Heather looked at the gift. “Crème fraîche? All I need for this is some melba toast or blinis. Scott, you always were a classy guy. Thank you.”

“To tell the truth, it was caviar or vodka, unless I wanted to drag two fur coats home. Not a lot to choose from.”

“I’m not complaining,” Judson said. “Is this dry ice?”

“Yeah. Be careful not to let it burn you.”

Adelle came downstairs after having changed into a red jersey dress that advertised her assets. The four of them sat in the den, which was cozier than the thirty-by-twenty-foot living room with cathedral ceilings.

She saw the caviar on the coffee table and slowly licked the rim of her lips with her tongue, tracing the outline of her mouth in what would have been a great Marilyn Monroe imitation. “Mmm, caviar! This is the kind of delicacy that can make you forget who you are,” she said.

“In that case,” Scott said, “I would avoid it.”

Heather’s face was flush with embarrassment. She dashed into the kitchen, and quickly returned. “Dinner’s ready. Come with me,” she said hastily.

Judson said grace—a habit he’d adopted from the Harringtons—and then the housekeeper, Rosa, began serving the meal, which included broiled grapefruit as an appetizer, prime roast beef, parsleyed potatoes, asparagus and artichoke hearts. A wedge of Stilton cheese, followed by lemon meringue pie, completed the dinner.

“Rosa, you and women like you are the reason why I’m so happy to be back home,” said Scott, as Rosa served the pie. Judson dropped his fork on the dessert plate, and began coughing to avoid choking as he tried to suppress his amusement.

“Mr. Ambassador, you just made my day,” said Rosa, soaking up the praise. “I love to cook, and it makes me happy when I know my people enjoy what I serve them. Thank you, sir.”

Scott had hoped that he’d sent the right message—that he liked simple things, and in his choice of women, he preferred the girl next door. “I just tell it like it is, Rosa. You’re a wonderful cook.”

“What a lovely evening for a walk,” Adelle said, looking at Scott.

“Judson’s cousins and their wives will be over in a few minutes,” Heather said, “and the only reason they’re coming is to see Scott. Maybe you can go for a walk later,” she continued. Minutes later, Drake Harrington, the youngest of the three Harrington brothers, and his wife, Pamela, joined them.

“Damn!” Scott said, looking at Drake when he walked into the room. “I forgot how much alike you and Judson are. Your grandfather had some powerful genes.”

“It’s our private joke,” Drake said, pulling out Pamela’s chair and making himself comfortable. “It’s a good thing we have a sense of humor, ’cause we confuse a lot of people.”

“Right,” Judson added, “and we’re lucky that our wives have become very good friends and don’t mind the resemblance.”

“The first time I saw Judson, I nearly went into shock,” Pamela said. “It took some getting used to.”

Scott observed Adelle surreptitiously. He could have sworn she seemed to salivate, but whether it was because of him or Drake Harrington, he wasn’t sure. Telford Harrington and his brother Russ arrived together, along with their wives, Alexis and Velma, who were sisters. Immediately Velma began entertaining them with her stories, and Scott leaned back in his chair, sipping piña coladas, listening to the various conversations and enjoying the good company. Like a long-lost son, Scott felt that he had come home to surroundings of warmth and love. Adelle Smith was out of her element, and her obvious discomfort showed it.

By ten-thirty, Scott felt a bit jet-lagged. He told his hosts he was tired and went to his room. He would have preferred to continue the conversation, which he had greatly enjoyed, but he reasoned that Adelle wouldn’t have the nerve to follow him up the stairs in such an obvious ploy. He locked the door, and thought to himself, Safe for at least one night.

The next morning, he called Judson on his cell phone. “Say, man, what time is breakfast and who’s up?”

Laughter seemed to roar out of Judson’s mouth. “I had almost forgotten that you were so blunt. The reason for running off last night was obvious. But if you’re hungry, why give a damn who’s up?”

“Why, indeed? I like my breakfast in peace. I don’t know, though. Something tells me that if Drake’s around, I won’t have a problem.”

“What do you mean?”

“Her mouth looked like it was watering once he arrived.”

He didn’t need the phone to hear Judson’s laughter. “Come on downstairs, man. Rosa made a fantastic breakfast.”

Scott dressed for dinner that evening, since he assumed he’d be expected to drive Adelle home to Baltimore. It would also give him the opportunity to let her know in no uncertain terms that he was not interested in her.

“If you give me the keys to your Mercedes, I’ll drive Adelle back to Baltimore,” Scott said to Judson, in a quiet moment away from the rest of the guests, when they gathered for predinner drinks.

Judson’s eyebrows shot up. “You sure you want to do that?”

“It’s the best chance to disabuse her of any notion she has about me. It’ll take me no longer than the half hour or so that it takes me to drive there and back.”

A grin flashed across Judson’s face. “That time as a bigwig didn’t change you one bit. Glad to see it.” He reached into his trouser pockets, took out two sets of keys and handed the smaller one to Scott. “This is the house key and this is the car key.”

“Thanks, buddy.”

After dinner, he tired of waiting for Adelle to announce that she was leaving, so he decided to take matters into his own hands. “Adelle, if you’re going to Baltimore tonight, I’ll be glad to drive you, but we’ll need to leave now.” He felt the tiniest inkling of guilt when he saw her face break out in the warmest smile he’d witnessed, but he quickly shook it off.

He managed to avoid saying anything personal during the drive to Baltimore. The conversation had been amicable by the time they arrived at her condominium, in what was obviously an upscale neighborhood.

“Aren’t you coming in?” she asked him, when he opened the car door for her. He stood back and extended his hand for a handshake, leaving her clearly aghast.

He shook his head. “To do that would send you the wrong message. I’m not interested, Adelle, and I do not mislead women. Good night.” He left her standing in front of her apartment building, walked back to the driver’s side of the car and got in. When she didn’t move, he started the car to let her know that he wasn’t joking. Only then did she turn and enter the building. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t think of being that rude, but he hadn’t met many women like Adelle. He hoped that Pamela Harrington was an observant woman, and that she’d noticed the look in Adelle’s eyes as she ogled Pamela’s husband, Drake.

“We’re having a barbecue this afternoon,” Heather told Scott at breakfast the next morning, “and all the Harringtons will be here.”

“What about Tara? And Henry? Is he coming?”

“Indeed, he is. Henry is the same,” she said. “He’s just as spry and his tongue is as tart as ever. I can’t think of life without Henry.”

Later that morning, Scott took his swim trunks and walked over to Telford’s house. Henry opened the door for him, and he clasped the frail man in a big hug. “If you gripped me any tighter,” Henry said, “I’d think you were one of those snakes that squeezes the life out of things before devouring them. Thanks for leaving my old bones intact. You look great, and I been expectin’ to see you.”

“You’re the one who looks good. You don’t think I’d come to Eagle Park and leave without seeing you, do you?”

“Some people manage to, and in most cases, I’m glad they do.”

“Where’s Tara? She must be a big girl by now.”

“She’s nine and as sweet as she ever was. Tel took her to her piano lessons. You want coffee and something to go with it?”

“Actually, I’d like to take a swim in the pool. I know it’s still a bit cool for that, but I got used to swimming in water that was barely tepid.”

“Looks like it did you good. You’re bigger, but ya ain’t fat.”

He patted Henry’s shoulder. “I can’t afford to get fat, Henry. I’d have to buy all new clothes.”

Alexis swept into the kitchen. “Scott. I thought I heard someone talking, and Henry definitely doesn’t talk to himself. How are you this morning?” Her eyes twinkled with mischief, and he didn’t have to guess why. “I hope you got back safely last night, and in good time.” He stared at her for a minute. She didn’t back down, giving the private joke free rein.

“A guy does what he has to do,” Scott said, playing along. “Is the pool open?”

“Russ opened it up a few weeks back when we had a hot spell. You’re welcome to swim as often as you like.”

“Thanks. In Vilnius I got in the habit of swimming every day, and I miss it already.”

Scott swam a few laps, and then hiked along the Monocacy River. As he walked along the trails, he wished he had a fishing rod and tackle. A profusion of spring flowers—jonquil, wild roses, lotus, morning glory, forsythia, dandelions and other wildflowers—greeted him as he strolled along the riverbank. Squirrels scampered up and down trees and across his path, ignoring him. He loved being alone in such a beautiful, natural environment. But at the moment, he longed for the company of a woman whom he deeply cared for. He made his way back to the Harrington estate, which Telford and his family occupied, and found Henry picking roses that grew beside the house.

“I never paid any attention to these here flowers,” Henry said, “’til Alexis came. She loves for the place to be pretty and elegant. But these here early roses got thorns, so I pick ’em to keep her from getting pricked.”

“You’re a gentleman, Henry. See you at the barbecue.”

Scott returned to Judson’s house, and after showering and changing into a yellow polo shirt and white jeans, he went to the kitchen to find Rosa. “You’ve got a crowd coming,” he said to her. “What can I do to help?”

She looked at him with adoring eyes, since he had become her favorite houseguest. “Maybe I shouldn’t ask you, but, Mr. Ambassador, I think the food should be covered. Can you cover the food with this cotton canvas? The heat from the food will melt plastic wrap, so I bought canvas.”

He took the canvas cloth from her. “For you, anything, Rosa. You’ve helped make my visit a really wonderful experience.” As she melted, he left the kitchen grinning.

“The old boy hasn’t lost his touch,” he said to himself.

Pamela and Drake arrived first. Scott was leaning against a tree, with the sole of his left foot flat against the tree trunk, when he looked up and saw her walking between the couple. Now, there was a woman with grace, charm, dignity, a good measure of femininity in all the right places and beauty to boot. He straightened up, but he stayed where he was. He’d seen that woman somewhere before. But where? Who was she?

As they approached, he went to greet them. “Pamela, Drake,” he said. “How are you?”

“Great,” they said in unison.

“Scott Galloway, this is Denise Miller, my best friend since crib days,” Pamela said.

“I’m glad to meet you,” he said earnestly.

“Me, too, Scott,” Denise said. “Pamela said you just returned from Lithuania. Are you glad to be home?”

“I’m happy to be with my friends, to have a steady supply of fresh produce and to soak up the sun,” he said.

“I haven’t been home yet because my place isn’t ready and my belongings haven’t arrived from Lithuania.” He fell into step with them as they headed toward the back patio and the barbecue.

“Is that what you missed most?” she asked.

Those were the only things he missed that he could talk about. “I missed other things, too—mainly opportunities to be just plain old Scott Galloway.”

Drake walked over toward them, munching on a chicken leg. Scott appreciated—and not for the first time—that he was six feet four inches tall, and equal to Drake and his brothers in stature. Drake dwarfed most men in looks and physique, but not him. And he hoped Denise Miller was well aware of that.

“How’s that barbecue?” he asked Drake, in an effort to stall for time by involving him in conversation. He was interested in Denise Miller, but wanted to go slowly, at least until he figured out why he was so sure he knew her from someplace.

Drake laughed. “It’s a delicious barbecue chicken leg. But if you’re not a leg man, the breasts look pretty good, too.”

“I think I’ll do my own investigation,” Denise said, and left the two of them to enjoy Drake’s joke.

Scott eyed Drake. “Is she annoyed?”

“No, but she’d rather I hadn’t said that. Seems she’d prefer to make a good impression on you, and that surprises me.”

“She didn’t seem particularly interested. Why are you surprised at her wanting to make a good impression?”

“Denise is not easily impressed, but you caught her eye before we saw you. And the closer we got, the more she liked what she saw. Trust me, man, I’m right.”

“She was interesting from afar, but the closer she got, the more interesting she became. Trust me.” They both laughed.

“This is a magnificent house, Drake. Judson said that you and your brothers built it. Russ is a heck of an architect,” said Scott.

“He is that, and his designs are becoming more creative. But, as an engineer, I appreciate his work even more.”

“If I ever build a house, I hope you brothers are still in the business.”

“Unless you plan to build it when you’re ready to retire, I don’t think you have much to worry about.”

“Thanks for the assurance, man. But it’s time I got my act together.”

“Yeah,” Drake said. “I thought I had to wait until I got my life exactly the way I wanted it, but Pamela’s clock was ticking, and she let me know it. I realized that I didn’t have to be a nationally recognized engineer in order to be happy. But I needed her for that.”

“I don’t regret the choices I’ve made, Drake,” said Scott. “I regret the sacrifices.”

“As long as you’re ready to deal with a relationship, it’s never too late.”

In those few minutes, Scott realized that of the Harrington brothers, Drake was his favorite. The man gave the appearance of being a corporate executive, but he was a down-to-earth guy who had his priorities in order, and he had a great sense of humor.

“How long have you and Pamela been married?”

“Close to two wonderful years. Smartest thing I ever did. Marriage is good. Try it,” he said with a grin.

“You’ll like it.”

“I hope so. I don’t have anyone in mind, but after two years in Vilnius without a companion, my antenna is up.”

Drake seemed to contemplate the statement. “I can’t imagine that that was easy. There must have been plenty of times you were lonely or just needed someone to talk to, and didn’t have anyone with whom to share your problems. It had to be troubling.”

“You nailed it on the head, Drake. In spite of all the people around to do whatever I said or asked, it was a lonely life.”

“You two seem to be hitting it off,” Heather said, as she approached them. “I brought you some lemonade. If you want anything stronger, it’s over there in that large wooden tub.”

“Thanks,” Scott said. “Where’d you get that wooden tub?”

“My dad got it from his grandmother,” said Heather.

“You must have made quite an impression on Denise. She’s asking questions about you.”

Scott sipped his lemonade. “Really? Tell her I’m perfect,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant. He couldn’t understand Drake’s sudden fit of laughter.

“I wonder if I was that scared of getting what I wanted,” Drake said, amused by Scott’s expression.

“As I look back, I realize how lucky I really was that Pamela ignored my foolishness.” He looked at Scott. “I met Adelle Smith and she isn’t in Denise Miller’s league by a long shot.”

“I get your message loud and clear,” added Scott.

Telford and Russ arrived along with their families.

“Excuse me,” Scott said to Drake and Heather when he saw Tara.

“You’ve gotten taller in the eighteen months since I last saw you,” Scott said to Tara with a wide smile. “How are you?”

“I’m fine, Mr. Galloway. I’m going to finish the school year with straight As.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. You’re as smart as you are pretty.” He looked at Telford, Tara’s stepfather, whose pride in his daughter shone in his eyes. “Tara is the most compelling advertisement for marriage that I can think of.”

“Thank you,” Telford said. “She’s always a delight.”

“What do they mean, Mummy?”

“Mr. Scott was congratulating your daddy on raising you properly.”

“Oh. I thought he said I was lovely.”

Scott suppressed a laugh. Tara was only nine years old, but already she was mature beyond her years.

The four of them walked around to the patio, where the barbecue grill, food and drinks were set up.

“It’s about time you got here,” Judson said. “Pamela and I want to eat. We’ve got pulled pork, barbecue chicken and baby back ribs, grilled new potatoes, zucchini, onions, asparagus and a green salad. Beer, wine and chilled vodka are over there.” He pointed to a shaded area. “Everybody for themselves.”

“Don’t we have to say grace, Uncle Judson?” Tara asked.

“Yes, we do,” Russ said. “I’ll say it. By the time you finish it, we’ll be ready to eat Christmas dinner.”

Tara giggled. “Mr. Scott, my uncle Russ doesn’t like the way I say grace. It really freaks him out.”

Scott noticed that Denise remained on the fringe of the group. He got two empty plates, forks and napkins, and went over to her and handed her one of each.

“I’m hungry, and I haven’t had any good barbecue in a couple of years. Will you join me?”

“Thanks. I was just waiting for everyone to start. Why has it been two years?”

“I’ve been in Vilnius, Lithuania. I only returned for Judson and Heather’s wedding, but I was in the States less than seventy-two hours. I was Judson’s best man.”

Denise appeared reflective for a moment. “So you’re close friends,” she said.

“Very much so, since I was five years old. He’s closer to me than my real brothers.”

“Really?”

“We went from kindergarten through college and law school together.” He took a pair of tongs and put some pulled pork on her plate. “Want some chicken or ribs?”

“Ribs. I love ribs, though I have to use yards of dental floss after I eat them. Where do you live, Scott?”

“Right now, I’m staying at the Willard in Washington. But my belongings should arrive from Vilnius next week. Then, I’ll either move into my condo in Baltimore or sell it and move to Washington, where I work.”

She accepted the plate of pulled pork, ribs and vegetables. “Thank you. I imagine you must have mixed feelings about moving.”

“Of course. I’ll hate not being close to my grandmother. She’s getting older.”

“Do you have family other than your brothers and your grandmother?”

“There’s my father. My grandmother helped him raise us after our mother died in a car crash almost twenty years ago. She’s very dear to me. Where do you live, Denise?” Scott said, deciding that it was time to move the focus to her.

“I have a house in Frederick and an apartment in Washington, and I divide my time between the two places.”

He could see that she was deftly avoiding any details, at least about herself, so he decided to be more direct. “I work for the State Department, Denise. What do you do?”

“I know you’re an ambassador, Scott. I’m a—a fundraiser.” Her brow creased in a frown. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

“Actually, I do. I believe I met you at a party, but I’m having trouble remembering which one.”

She lowered her gaze. “Don’t you remember seeing me at the party Judson gave for you when you were leaving for Lithuania? We weren’t introduced, but that’s where we met.”

He hoped that his eagerness and excitement in preparing for his diplomatic assignment explained what must have been a testosterone malfunction. “That send-off and having everyone address me as ‘Mr. Ambassador’ nearly overwhelmed me. Something about that party seems to nag at me, though.” He shrugged his shoulder. “My preference is for the simple life. So Denise, do you work in Washington?” he said, quickly changing the subject.

A slight smile didn’t quite make it to her eyes. “I love politics, but not that much.”

He wondered at her seeming reluctance to tell him where she worked. “As long as you raise money for good causes, I’d say that’s a good thing.” If she didn’t want to open up, he’d find out what he wanted to know some other way.

“Where do your folks live, Denise?” he said, figuring the innocuous question would help continue their conversation. He had to get used to her name, since he wasn’t sure that it really suited her. She had an almost aristocratic air about her that he didn’t especially like, and women like that weren’t usually named Denise, but rather something like Caroline, Amanda or Allison.

Maybe he’d been away from African-American women too long. He told himself to stop trying to figure her out, that if she was interested in him, she’d open up.

She hadn’t answered him, so he decided to change tactics.

“Would you have dinner with me?” he said.

She looked him in the eye. “When did you have in mind?”

The heat from her fiery brown eyes seared through him. But if she could eyeball him, he could certainly do the same. “Friday, and as many times as you’d like thereafter.”

“You’re a bold man.”

He gave a quick shrug of his shoulders. “I don’t remember ever getting anything or anywhere in life by being timid, Denise. It’s not my style.”

“I certainly never imagined you were a man who passively accepted whatever circumstances he encountered,” she replied candidly.

He stared at her, mulling over the situation. “Where will you be next Friday between five-thirty and seven?” She gave him her address in Frederick, Maryland. “I’ll be there at six-thirty in jacket and tie.” The brilliant smile that covered her face surged through him like an electrical charge. The woman was beautiful.

“I’m looking forward to Friday.”

“So am I,” he said truthfully, while hoping and praying that he wasn’t shooting himself in the foot.

Chapter 2

Denise brushed her long, silky black hair until it shimmered. She curled it, brushed out the curls and let them fall softly around her shoulders. “At least it’s mine and not a weave,” she said to herself with a note of pride. She had inherited both her hair and her dark complexion from her maternal grandmother, who was a Shinnecock. Her father’s family had been mixed since slavery.

She didn’t want to overdress, but she wanted to look good. Scott Galloway was a strikingly handsome man, and she wanted to make an impression. When she’d looked into those dreamy grayish-brown eyes, half-hidden by long lashes that curled slightly at the ends, she’d felt as if a bolt of lightning had shot through her body. Leaning against a tree as if he didn’t have a care in the world, he’d taken her breath away. But she didn’t believe for one minute that he was as nonchalant as he appeared. The first time she’d met him, two years ago at a reception, they’d been sitting near each other at a round table. She couldn’t see much more than his profile. And he’d been so thoroughly peeved with her that he barely spared her a glance, or so it seemed.

She had always been attracted to very dark-skinned men. But Scott’s complexion, which was the color of shelled walnuts, gave him a polished, masculine look that got to her. And what a physique!

“Get your head on straight, sister,” she told herself.

“Those looks don’t mean a thing if that’s all there is to him.”

The thought amused her. Of course, he was a man of substance and, she imagined, had plenty of it. He seemed to have it all. Nevertheless, she wondered what his Achilles’ heel was. She had yet to meet a man who didn’t have one.

When the doorbell rang, she was wearing a short silk chiffon dinner dress that was a goldenrod color with insets that began where the hip stopped, and a rounded bodice that revealed no cleavage. Diamond stud earrings, black patent-leather pumps, a black silk purse and a dab of perfume completed her attire.

“How do I look, Priscilla?” she asked her housekeeper. Priscilla Mallory lived in Frederick, Maryland, but she commuted to D.C. when Denise was staying in Washington.

“Like you ever look anything but great. If he isn’t blind, he’s gonna be when he sees you in that getup. Real sweet, ma’am.”

Denise opened the door and thanked God for self-control.

“Hi. You’re punctual. I like that,” he said as he handed her a dozen yellow roses.

“Hi. You’re both punctual and a gentleman. Thank you. You chose the right color roses. I love yellow, and I adore yellow roses. Have a seat in the living room while I put these in a vase.”

She headed for the kitchen to find a vase. Decked out in a khaki-colored suit, a light shirt and burnt-orange tie, Scott Galloway was something to look at. “Go into the living room, Priscilla, and introduce yourself to Ambassador Scott Galloway,” Denise said to her housekeeper.

Priscilla’s eyes bulged and her lower jaw sagged. “Yes, ma’am. Yes, indeedy.”

Now, when did that happen? thought Denise. She entered the living room in time to see Priscilla putting a tray with two glasses of white wine and cheese sticks on the coffee table in front of Scott, who stood and extended his hand to shake hers.

“Ambassador Galloway, this is Mrs. Priscilla Mallory. She keeps thing in order around here.”

“I’m her housekeeper, Mr. Ambassador, and I take care of her like she was my own child.”

“I’m delighted to meet you, Mrs. Mallory. Thank you for the wine and cheese sticks. If you have any club soda, I’d like to add it to my wine. I’m driving.”

“Oh. You want a spritzer?” Priscilla asked.

“Yes, thank you.”

Denise hadn’t planned for them to spend time alone at her house, but it wasn’t a bad idea. She had learned more about Scott since he’d come through the door than in all the time she’d spent with him the previous Sunday at Judson and Heather’s barbecue. Good manners and a lack of ego came naturally to him, she surmised. She sat beside him and lifted her glass.

“Welcome to my home, Scott. Do you like these?” She pointed to the cheese sticks. “Priscilla makes them, and the house would be full of them if I encouraged her.”

“I love these things. I used to buy them at Dean & DeLuca. These are the first I’ve had since I got back. Mrs. Mallory must have some special recipe.”

“I’ll tell her you enjoyed them”

“We ought to leave soon. Our reservation is for seven-thirty, and we are driving to Washington. It took me about forty minutes to get here. Do you mind if I tell Mrs. Mallory good-night?”

“Of course not.”

He headed for the kitchen. “Thank you for these wonderful cheese sticks, Mrs. Mallory. I’ve always loved them. Good evening.”

“You’re welcome, and you come back soon. I’ve always got plenty of cheese sticks baked nice and fresh.”

As if he had always done so, he grabbed Denise’s hand and they left. “When did you have time to buy a car?” she asked him as he opened the door to a new luxury car

“I’m leasing it, but I’ll probably end up buying it after I settle in. I’ve decided to live in Washington and avoid that daily commute that I had when I lived in Baltimore.”

“Have you found a place yet?”

“Not yet. I have three or four places to check out.”

By the time they reached Washington, he knew she liked classic jazz—the Louis Armstrong–Duke Ellington variety. She loved Mozart and disliked Wagner. She adored Italian Renaissance art, disliked contemporary art and loved Aretha Franklin and Luther Vandross.

“I’d like a duplex apartment,” Scott said, “because I like the idea of having separate levels for entertaining and my bedroom and private quarters.”

“You don’t want a house?” she asked.

“No. I’d have to hire a live-in housekeeper to maintain the place, and I don’t want that.”

At the restaurant, the maître d’ seated them and beckoned the sommelier. She and Scott decided not to order cocktails.

“We’ll choose the wine after we order our meal,” Scott said to the sommelier. They both ordered the arugula salad, shrimp diablo, saffron rice and spinach. And for dessert, they ordered raspberries with kirsch and ice cream.

“Did you order this because I did?” he asked her.

“No. As a matter of fact, I order this every time I come here. It’s one of my favorite restaurants.”

Scott’s eyebrow arched a bit at her comment, and she wondered what his reaction was to her preference in restaurants. She appreciated that he didn’t probe, and the more she got to know him, the more she liked him.

Scott looked at the woman seated across from him. She had the elegance of a finely tuned Stradivarius, but she was, nonetheless, very approachable. He wondered how much of the latter was real and how much was for effect. They had much more in common than he would have imagined, and he found himself wanting to know her better. But something held him back, and it puzzled him. Always a man to keep his own counsel, he let his instincts guide him.

“Where did you grow up?” he asked her, opting for a safe topic of conversation.

“Waverly, Texas. My father’s folks have been Texans for generations, one of the first families of African-American ranchers in the state.”

“Ranchers? And did you attend one of the exclusive Seven Sisters colleges?”

“What an interesting question,” Denise said, genuinely surprised. “My parents wanted me to go to Bryn Mawr, but when I found out the ratio of female to male students, I balked and went to Princeton.”

He leaned forward and hoped that his anxiety didn’t show. “How’d that work out?”

“That’s where I developed my intolerance for snobs.”

He couldn’t help laughing. “Did you fall in love with or marry any of them?”

“No to both. But while I was getting my degree, I had a great time.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me? I can imagine that whatever the ratio of men to women at Princeton, you probably had your pick.”

She lowered her gaze. “You’re too kind.”

Sarcasm or humility? He wasn’t certain which. The waiter brought their food, saving him the need to reply.

“You’re driving, and I know you don’t want to drink,” she said thoughtfully when Scott offered to order a bottle of wine. “I wouldn’t enjoy it if you couldn’t have any. By the way,” Denise said, changing the subject, “I belong to a group that’s putting on a big fundraiser in Philadelphia, and Velma Harrington is catering it. She’s incredible.”

“Yes,” he said, as something played around in the back of his mind. He knew it was important, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

They eventually finished the meal with espresso, and as they left the restaurant, he tried to remember what her mention of Velma Harrington had triggered. He shook his head in frustration.

During the drive back to Frederick, she hummed along with the songs that played on the radio. She didn’t seem compelled to fill the time with idle talk, for which he was grateful. He had very little patience for meaningless chatter. He also liked the fact that, during the entire evening, she hadn’t once tried to flaunt her sex appeal. And he especially appreciated that the neckline of her dress wasn’t an advertisement for the milk industry.

He hated having to spend an evening with his mouth watering over a woman’s cleavage. Usually if he liked her, he was tempted to hurry the evening along so that he could indulge. If he didn’t like her, it invariably annoyed him.

He parked in front of the large brick house that she called home and walked her to the door. “May I have your key?” he asked. She handed it to him and stepped aside while he opened the door.

“Would you like me to see if everything is okay?” he asked her.

Her eyes widened. “Why, yes. Thank you,” she said calmly.

He walked in, closed the door, locked it and handed her the key. “Stay here,” he said.

It was a good-size house. Upstairs, he checked two bedrooms, a large office and three bathrooms, one of which had a big Jacuzzi and what seemed like endless closet space. He walked through the living, dining and breakfast rooms, then the kitchen and pantry, which revealed no surprises. He returned to the foyer and saw that she stood precisely where he had left her.

“Do you have a basement?”

“Yes, but do you think—”

“Denise, I never half do anything.”

After checking the basement, he bounded up the stairs and joined her in the foyer. “Thank you for a really wonderful evening. I’ve enjoyed being with you,” he said. He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Good night.”

He didn’t laugh at her wide-eyed look of surprise. But controlling the impulse to smirk cost him plenty. However, Denise was poised, and she quickly recovered her aplomb. “This has been a wonderful evening, Scott. I’ve enjoyed every minute of it. Get home safely.”

He got into the car and shook as the laughter he had managed to control earlier spilled out. He drove three blocks and parked so that he could safely let out peals of laughter that had him practically bursting at the seams. He didn’t know what Denise had expected when he took her home. But having been celibate for so long, he’d decided to play it safe. Anything more than a peck on the cheek would have gotten him in deep trouble. He wanted her. He really did. But since he had managed this long, a few more weeks wouldn’t kill him.

After parking in the hotel garage, he decided against taking the elevator to his floor and took the escalator to the lobby instead. As he passed the reception desk, the odor of freshly baked oatmeal-raisin cookies that the manager placed on the desk every evening tantalized his nose. He turned back around, took a couple of cookies and bit into one. The taste made him think of the dessert that Velma brought to Heather’s and Judson’s barbecue. He snapped his fingers. She’d served that same dessert at the going-away party Judson had given for him a couple of years ago. Suddenly, he remembered Denise Miller, and what she had said to him at that reception.

By the time he reached his hotel room, he remembered their encounter clearly. She had self-righteously taken him to task for not making environmental issues a priority as ambassador to Lithuania. “The entire region is a major industrial polluter, and you have a platform to bring about change. I am disappointed that it’s not part of your mission,” she’d said.

At the time, he was sure everyone at the table could see the smoke billowing from his ears. He’d answered without looking in her direction. “Our government is not sending me there to lecture the Lithuanian government about clean air.” He had turned his back to her and not said another word to her until Sunday afternoon at the barbecue.

He also hadn’t forgiven her for it, now that he thought about it, and he meant to let her know. A frown spread across his face. He supposed he hadn’t remembered the incident because he didn’t associate such a strident voice with the Denise Miller he’d just met. This Denise was much softer, more feminine and lovely. He went to the minibar, put two cubes of ice in a glass and filled it with vodka. His immediate inclination was to telephone her right then and there, but a glance at his watch disabused him of the notion. It was a quarter to one in the morning. As furious as he was, his desire to get even didn’t override his sense of decency. He slept fitfully, anxious for the morning to come when he could telephone Denise Miller at last.

When his phone rang at a quarter to nine, he almost gave in to the urge to ignore it, but the ringing persisted. “Galloway speaking.”

“Hi, Scott. This is Heather. How did your date with Denise go?”

“She told you we had a date?”

“Yes. Her feet hardly touched the ground for a week in anticipation. She was so excited that we asked her why she was so eager.”

“Hmm. Well, I’ve got a few words for that woman.”

“Why? What happened?”

“Nothing,” he said. “Last night, I liked her. What pissed me off was what happened two years ago at the reception Judson gave for me. It took me a while, but I finally remembered how mad she made me with her self-righteous statements about environmental consciousness.”

“You mean it’s over before it even got started?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I just need to get this off my chest. I would appreciate it, Heather, if you wouldn’t mention it.”

“You like her?”

“What man wouldn’t?”

After putting the receiver back in its cradle, Scott paced the length of his room and walked back to the telephone. He lifted the receiver and stood looking at it. His fingers brushed against his jawline, reminding him that he needed to shave. But he wasn’t thinking about shaving. He wanted to stop procrastinating and call Denise Miller. He dialed Drake Harrington’s number and asked Drake if he could get Denise’s number from Pamela, his wife. Pamela came to the telephone.

“Hi, Scott. You want Denise’s number?”

“Yes, please. I didn’t ask her for it after our date.” She gave him the telephone number. “Thanks, Pamela. I’ll be in touch.”

He hung up, dialed Denise’s number, and when she answered, he got straight to the point. “Good morning, Denise. I hope you slept well. No wonder I didn’t remember where we met. You made me mad as hell!” Scott said, barely taking a breath.

“Would you mind explaining to me why you attacked me at that dinner party? Do you remember being a smart-ass and taking me to task, someone you didn’t know anything about? You embarrassed me. For days, I fumed over your indictment of me. What do you have to say about this?”

“Scott, I’m stunned,” said Denise. “I had forgotten all about that. I suppose at the time I didn’t think I was out of line. Two years ago, I was deeply involved in programs to improve our environment. I’m certain that I wouldn’t do the same thing today.”

“But why on earth did you attack me?”

“I don’t know. For one thing, you seemed to ignore me when I tried to start a conversation with you about the environment, effectively dismissing me, and I was hurt. I guess I went for the jugular. Am I forgiven?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure.”

“If you’re not sure, why did you kiss me last night?”

“That certainly wasn’t what I call a kiss. At the time, Denise, I hadn’t figured out why I had reservations about you. And I also hadn’t made up my mind.”

“Not only are you brash, you’re brutally honest, as well. Have you made up your mind yet?”

“Try not to ask me a question if you don’t want the answer. I want a lot more, but I believe in being cautious.”

“Are you planning on dropping things right now? I mean, are you still so angry with me—the me you went out to dinner with last night—now that you know me?”

“You really turned me off that night. The woman I met recently is so different that I really don’t know what to make of it. Suppose we leave things as they are for the time being. Have a wonderful weekend. Goodbye.”

Denise stared at the receiver in her hand. He’d hung up without waiting for her to say goodbye, and that meant he was still angry. She’d barely remembered her criticism of him, or that she’d done it because he’d ignored her. Why, he’d barely spared her a glance.

Suddenly, she started to giggle, and then she was consumed with laughter. Two years before, she was passionate about the environment. She’d believed that since men had gotten the world into its current predicament, they should step aside and allow women to correct their mistakes. That was then.

Scott probably had little patience with aggressive women, but he seemed to like women who were soft and smart.

She sat down at the kitchen table to eat her breakfast. Priscilla served the coffee and joined her. “Ma’am, how was your date with Ambassador Galloway? He’s a great catch, and he knows how to treat a woman.”

“I know, Priscilla. But if he isn’t interested in me, nothing will happen. I may genuflect to my father, but not to any other man.”

Priscilla looked at her. “You expect me to believe he didn’t ask you out again? I thought it was him that called you this morning.”

“It was.” She related to Priscilla what had happened with Scott two years earlier. “He’s still mad at me,” she said. “He didn’t remember what I said to him until after our date.”

“What a pity! He likes you a lot.”

“Or rather, he did. But I am not planning to get any gray hairs over it.”

“Well, what you gon’ do?”

“God didn’t make just one of him. There’s gotta be at least one more,” said Denise.

“Well, I guess you know what you’re doing,” Priscilla said.

Denise finished breakfast, brushed her teeth and went to her home office, which was at the top of the stairs overlooking a small brook that fed downstream into the Monocacy River. The phone rang before she could begin recording notes that she made for her secretary, who came in twice a week.

She checked the caller ID. “Hi, Pamela.”

“Hi. Can you come over Friday for the weekend? We’re entertaining a client Friday evening. The brothers handed him the key to a new apartment complex a few days ago. Whenever they finish a building, they usually entertain the client. Please come. We want you to be here.”

“I suppose it’s a dressy affair.”

“Why, yes. We’ll start with cocktails at about five-thirty.”

“Is Scott Galloway going to be there, too?”

“Well, I don’t know whether he’ll be over here for the weekend. But if he is, he is certainly welcome.”

“It’s not important, Pamela. Things didn’t go so well with us. I thought our date was wonderful, and I think he did, too, until he remembered what I said to him at that reception.”

“Yes, I know about that. But honey, if he was angry with you for two long years, then he must have been attracted to you. No man stays mad that long with a woman who means nothing to him. Trust me.”

“If you say so, Pamela. But you know I don’t have a lot of patience. The problem is I like Scott a heck of a lot.”

“Not to worry. Drake made a date with me for the express purpose of telling me that he wanted to move on. We’ve been married going on two years.”

“I’m very attracted to Scott, but I’m not going to prostrate myself. No way!”

“And that’s a good thing, because it would probably turn him off. See you Friday afternoon. Bye”

“Right. I’ll be there around four. Bye.” She hung up and propped her elbow on her desk. She knew Pamela wouldn’t lie to her. But Denise also knew that the minute Pamela hung up, she’d called Heather and tell her that if Scott was spending the weekend with them, have him phone her. Just the move she needed. She wasn’t going to chase him, but she damn sure was not going to avoid him.

Denise knew her friend well. At that moment, Pamela was talking to Heather. “They’re not getting along so well, but I’ve known Denise practically all of my life, and she likes Scott. But her pride won’t allow her to concede to him. Will he be here this weekend?”

“He’s here every weekend for as long as he’s staying at the Willard. I’d better tell him about the reception and—”

“Let me call him,” Pamela said. “I want to invite him personally. That way, I’ll be sure he’s coming.” Heather gave her Scott’s office number, and she dialed it.

“Hello, Scott, this is Pamela Harrington. We’re having a reception for one of the Harringtons’ clients this Friday at five-thirty, and we’d love you to come.”

“Thanks. I’ll be out there anyway. What kind of client is he…or she?” She told him. “Is the party business casual or black tie?”

“Black tie, but it’s summer, so—”

“Not to worry, Pamela. I’ll put together a comfortable summer monkey suit. Will Denise be there?”

Of course she’d known that he’d ask, and she had her answer ready. “She’s our houseguest. Scott, Denise is like my sister. Our families are very close, so we’ve been friends for a long time.”

“Interesting. Thanks for the invitation. I’ll see you Friday. Give Drake my regards.”

“Will do. Bye.”

She called Heather. “Is it all right to have dancing at a party that ends at nine o’clock?”

“Why not? Play some classics, and everyone will be dancing. Uh, why do you want dancing?”

“If other couples are dancing, how is Scott going to avoid asking Denise to dance?”

“You don’t know Scott,” Heather said. “Still, it’s definitely worth a try. Is your guest married?”

“Yes.”

“Thank God for that. He won’t be in the picture. I’ll be over Thursday evening to help. I won’t be able to leave the office until around four, but I’ll be over there as soon as I can get home and change.”

Dressed in an off-white dinner jacket, white shirt, black tuxedo pants, black bow tie and black patent-leather shoes, Scott rang the doorbell on Drake Harrington’s door at exactly five-thirty that Friday afternoon. Alone. He could have done without such intense heat in early July, but the prospect of seeing Denise and of meeting her on neutral ground made being dressed up in unbearable heat bearable. Drake answered the bell almost as soon as he rang.

“I’m glad you could come, Scott. It’s good to have you here,” Drake said. “Come with me. I want you to meet our guests. Ambassador Galloway, this is Alfred Rimes. My brothers and I have just completed a housing complex consisting of four seventeen-story buildings for Mr. Rimes. We’re celebrating. Alfred, Ambassador Galloway has just finished a tour in Lithuania with the State Department.”

The two men greeted each other, and Scott did his best to concentrate on their conversation. “The Harringtons are exemplary in every respect,” Rimes said. “I’ve hired a lot of construction companies, but none with so much integrity and professionalism and so few delays as I had working with the Harrington brothers. They’re first class.”

“Yes,” Scott said, listening for the sound of Denise’s voice. “They have an enviable reputation.”

Alfred Rimes did a double take, and Scott turned his gaze in the direction of where Rimes was looking. It seemed as if she floated toward him, her body barely sheathed in a long, slightly loose, sleeveless dusty-rose silk dress with a slit that stopped above the knee. The neckline revealed enough of her bare breasts to make his mouth water.

Pamela steered her friend toward Alfred Rimes. “Denise Miller, this is Alfred Rimes, our guest. And of course, you know Ambassador Galloway.

“I’m glad to meet you, Mr. Rimes.” She turned to Scott. “Hi. I was so glad when Pamela told me you were coming.”

He glanced around, caught Drake’s eye and signaled him to join them, since they shouldn’t leave the guest of honor alone. “And I was certainly pleased when I learned that you would be here, too,” Scott said.

When Drake joined them, Scott said to Rimes, “I enjoyed talking with you, Mr. Rimes. Would you excuse us, please?”

Figuring that Drake would understand, he cradled Denise’s elbow and walked with her toward the dining room. “I’ve been here a few times, but I don’t remember which door leads to the sunporch.”

As if she’d done so every day for years, she took his hand and walked with him to the small hallway between the breakfast room and the dining room. At the end of the hall, she reached across him and opened the door. Fire blazed through his body when her breast grazed his right arm. He could have sworn she wasn’t wearing a bra, as he felt her nipple. And it was hard. Damn!

They stood in the air-conditioned, glass-enclosed porch not saying a word, quietly watching the sunset as they continued to hold hands. He didn’t want to say anything. Talk was not what he needed. He needed her.

She broke the silence. “Are you still mad at me, Scott? I really don’t want you to be angry with me. I hardly know that woman who was rude to you back then. If you’re still upset with me, I’m going inside.”

“I’m not upset with you, and I’m not mad at you.”

“Then what is it?”

He let his gaze travel from her feet to the top of her head. “You are so beautiful, so…so—”

“So what?” she asked with a twinge of apprehension in her voice.

“Listen, I told you never to ask me a question unless you want the answer.”

“I want the answer.”

“Desirable. When I look at you, think about you, I… Oh, hell, let’s go back inside.”

“Does this mean you don’t want to be friends? All you have to do is make it clear, Scott, and I won’t waste your time or mine.”

“I like confident women…confident people, for that matter. But I’m not impressed by a woman who wants me to think she doesn’t need anyone. Besides, for you, it isn’t true.”

“How do you know that?”

“I know when a woman wants me, and you ought to know, without being told, when a man wants you. Let’s go inside. I suspect Pamela is serving the food about now.” He took her hand and walked back inside holding it. He liked holding her hand, but he was also holding it to show Alfred Rimes that if he went after Denise, he’d have some serious competition.

Scott led Denise to the buffet table, took two plates, as he’d done that Sunday at the barbecue, and asked her what she would like. “Maybe I can help you avoid getting something on this lovely dress.”

“Thanks. I’d love the shrimp and crab cakes, some of those little biscuits and some asparagus.”

He served her plate, added several cherry tomatoes and handed it to her. I am not being protective or possessive, he said to himself. Can I help it if I want to do something for her? He put the same food on his plate and added a slice of ham. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Alfred Rimes watching him.

Too bad, buddy. You’ve got a ring on the third finger of your left hand. You are too old for her and, besides, she’s with me. It was a mean-spirited thought, but that’s the way it was.

Telford walked to the center of the room, clapped his hands together and got everyone’s attention. “Thank you all for coming to meet one of our favorite clients. The Rimes Mansions are now open, and they’re dream homes. Russ outdid himself with the design of those buildings, and Drake elegantly finished them. And don’t forget to patronize the businesses in the adjoining Rimes complex. Now, enjoy the food, the drinks and the music. And please dance, if the spirit so moves you.”

Having been instructed by Pamela and Heather, Telford switched on the CD player, walked over to his wife, Alexis, and opened his arms. She swayed into them, and they danced like a couple of newly acquainted lovers to the sound of the Luther Vandross song “Here and Now.”

Scott rested his plate on the nearby table, his appetite gone. The way Alexis looked at her husband—telling Scott and everyone who cared to see that she loved Telford and only him—shook Scott to his core. She communicated it to her husband with the look in her eyes and the yielding of her body. It reminded him of how lonely he was and how empty his life was of things that mattered so much to him. He closed his eyes and steadied himself.

“Are you all right?” Denise’s soft voice penetrated his thoughts.

“I’m fine.” But he wasn’t, and he did not care to share his feelings with her, or with anyone. But he looked into the tender, caring eyes with which she observed him, and faced his need for her. “Dance with me, Denise?”

When she opened her arms, he brought her closer to him and stood there holding her and looking into her eyes. Uncontrollable shudders raced through his body, but he stiffened his back and began to dance, moving slowly and rhythmically, knowing at last the delight of holding her close. They moved as if the sweetness of her body in his arms had always been his to savor. The song changed, and the sound of Lester Young playing his saxophone to the tune of “(Back Home Again In) Indiana” was music to his ears. He didn’t want to hear any more slow love songs, at least not then, not with a bundle of warmth in his arms. Denise seemed content, no matter what kind of music played. And when one of Laurindo Almeida’s blazing Brazilian bossa nova tunes filled the room, he let himself go. To his amazement, she danced with him as if they had danced together for years. When the piece ended, he heard the applause; he hadn’t noticed that they were the only ones dancing.

“You’re a wonderful dancer,” Denise said.

“No more so than you,” he replied. “I had to learn those steps when I was in high school, or Judson would have gotten all the girls.”

She winked. “Judson has his good qualities. But he can’t outshine you. No way, no how.”

“Something tells me you mean that.”

“It’s not just flattery, Scott. And while we’re on the subject, you’re a knockout in this tux.”

“Thanks, I think. Let’s go get a drink, since neither of us has to drive.”

“My goodness, you’re shy,” she said jokingly.

“It’s almost nine, and my invitation said five-thirty to nine, so I’ll leave a few minutes to nine. I’d like to call you tomorrow morning, if I may.”

“I’ll be happy to hear from you.”

“I enjoyed this time with you, Denise.”

“Me, too,” she said as they walked toward the bar.

“I’m having vodka and tonic. What about you?”

Her smile seemed to envelop him. “That’s my favorite drink.”

He ordered their cocktails from the bartender and walked with her to a corner of the living room. “Drake has a couple of riding horses. Do you ride?”

“Since I was three years old. Remember I told you my dad is a rancher.”

“I’ll see if we can go riding tomorrow morning. It’s best to ride early before it gets hot.”

“Yes, I know. I can be ready at six,” she said.

“Great. You’re a woman after my own heart.”

“We’ll see about that,” she said.

“Yes. We will. It’s been a lovely evening, Denise. See you at six. Good night.”

He found Drake in the dining room. “Do you mind if Denise and I borrow a couple of horses tomorrow morning at six?”

“Of course not,” said Drake. “I’ll have the horses ready when you get there. If Heather doesn’t feel like fixing an early breakfast, be here at a quarter to six, and you can eat with Denise and me.”

“Thanks. And thanks for a great evening. Good night.”

Once outside, Scott removed his jacket, untied his tie, put it in his pocket and strode down the hill to Judson’s house. He was headed somewhere with Denise, and she seemed willing to go along. But did she want and need the same things that were so meaningful and important to him? He was willing to be patient, even wait for a while until he found them.

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