was right—he could take her words as a warning and decide to forget about the sexy executive assistant, and that was probably the smart thing to do. On the other hand, he was more intrigued by Allison Caldwell than he’d been by any other woman in a very long time—and he never turned away from a challenge.
* * *
“Come on, Dylan. Your breakfast is on the table.”
It was the third time she’d called to him, and finally he wandered out of his bedroom, still in his pajamas, his hair sticking up in various directions. She looked at her sleepy-eyed son and felt the familiar rush of affection.
She hadn’t thought too much about getting married or having a baby before she found herself pregnant at twenty-one, but she’d never believed her son was anything but a gift. He wasn’t always an easy child—there were times when he challenged and frustrated and infuriated her, but she loved him with every ounce of her being.
As he passed her on the way to the table, she gave him a quick hug and dropped a kiss on the top of his head. “Good morning.”
“Mornin’,” was his sleepy reply. He settled into his usual chair at the table and scowled at the box of cereal on the table. “Can’t I have waffles?”
“Not this morning,” she told him.
His scowl deepened as he poured the Fruity O’s into his bowl, then added milk. “Can I have pizza in my lunch?”
“We don’t have any pizza.” She cut the sandwich she’d made in half diagonally and put it in a snap-lock container.
He responded with something that sounded like, “Idon’wannasan’ich,” but the words were garbled through a mouthful of cereal.
“It’s ham and cheese,” she told him. “Your favorite.”
“M’favrit’spza.”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full.”
He swallowed. “My favorite’s pizza.”
“We don’t have any pizza,” she said again, adding grapes and cookies to his lunch box.
“Can we have pizza for dinner?”
“You’re going to be at your dad’s for dinner,” she reminded him.
He shoveled another spoonful of cereal into his mouth. “I’sThursdy.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Joslynsgot—”
“Chew and swallow, please.”
He did so. “Jocelyn’s got piano and Jillian’s got dance.”
“Lucky for them.”
“Not for me,” he grumbled. “’Cause I get dragged everywhere with them.”
She wasn’t without sympathy. She could only imagine how painful it was for an almost-nine-year-old boy to sit around while his younger sisters were involved in their own activities.
“Take your 3DS,” she suggested, expecting him to jump at the offer.
“We’re not s’posed to have ’lectronics at school,” he told her.
She held back a sigh as she zipped up his lunch box and slid it into the front pocket of his backpack, double-checking to ensure that his rescue inhaler was where it was supposed to be. “Keep it in your locker.”
He shoved more Fruity O’s into his mouth, but he chewed and swallowed before speaking again. “Where’s St. Louis, anyway?”
She opened the atlas she kept on hand to assist with his geography homework and pointed out Missouri. “Right there.”
He studied the map. “It’s a lot farther than Washington.”
She knew he meant Washington, DC, which they’d visited the previous summer. “Yes, it is,” she confirmed.
“Why do you hafta go there?”
“It’s a business trip,” she said, trying not to sound impatient as she glanced—again—at the clock.
“When are you gonna be home?”
“Tonight,” she said. “And I’ll pick you up straight from the airport.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
He pushed back his chair and started to carry his empty bowl and juice cup to the dishwasher. She was trying to teach him to pick up after himself—an uphill battle, to be sure—but she decided that today wasn’t a day for lessons. Not if she wanted to get Dylan to school and herself to the airport on time.
“I’ll do that.” She took the dishes from him. “You go brush your teeth and get dressed.”
Thankfully, he didn’t drag his heels too much while doing so, and they were only three minutes behind schedule when they walked out the door. If the traffic lights cooperated, she might be able to make up that time on the way. But before Dylan climbed into the backseat of her car, she took the time to give him a hug and a kiss, because she knew he wouldn’t accept any outward displays of affection when she dropped him off in front of the school.
He didn’t say too much on the drive, and she knew that his mind was already shifting its focus to the day ahead. She was pleased that he did well in school, and frustrated by the realization that his success hadn’t led to enjoyment. She thought he might like it more—or at least hate it less—if he made some friends, but he didn’t choose to interact with many of the other students, except if the teacher forced them to work in groups, and even then, he didn’t say much as he quietly did the work that was assigned.
She pulled up in front of the school as the bell rang and watched as he walked up the front steps to the main doors. It seemed like only yesterday that he’d refused to let go of her hand on his first day in kindergarten. The years had gone so fast, and so much had changed since then. Now he was in third grade, and she was lucky if he bothered to wave goodbye when she dropped him off.
He did today, lifting his hand as he glanced over his shoulder before he pulled open the door and disappeared inside, and the casual gesture tugged at her heart.
Then she pulled away from the school and turned toward the airport.
* * *
The acting CFO was already at the gate when Allison arrived.
Nate offered her a smile and a large coffee. “Cream only.”
She didn’t ask how he knew, she just accepted it gratefully. “Thanks.”
As she sipped her coffee, she tried to focus on what she’d told her son—that this was a business trip, not unlike so many other business trips she’d made with John Garrett in the past. Except that this time she was traveling with her boss’s nephew, and the memory of that one stolen kiss was still far too vivid in her mind.
When they boarded the plane, she was grateful that flying business class meant they wouldn’t be sitting as close together as they would if they were in coach. Although Nathan didn’t have the same girth across his belly as his uncle, he was a couple inches taller, his shoulders were broader and his legs were longer.
He paused at the aisle to let her precede him.
“You don’t want the window seat?”
“No, I like the aisle.”
“Oh. Okay.” She slipped past him and into her seat.
He settled beside her and buckled his belt.
His choice of aisle over window wasn’t a big deal, except that she couldn’t help feeling as if she was trapped between the wall and Nate’s body. Nate’s long, lean and delicious-smelling body.
She tried to ignore his proximity, but every time she drew in a breath, she