Luke grinned. “If you were any kind of friend, you’d let her serve me just once . . .”
“Nope, I’m afraid you’d like it too much, and then it’d become a hab – ”
“Excuse me, Mr. McGee? I knocked, but I guess you didn’t hear me. I have your coffee, sir.” Katie poked her head in the door.
Both men jumped to their feet. Parker hurried to take the tray and carefully set it on his desk. He extended his hand. “Welcome to the BCAS, Katie. We’re glad to have you aboard. I’m the director, Parker Riley, and I understand you already know my assistant, Luke McGee.”
Katie rewarded Parker with a warm smile and a handshake before giving Luke the perfunctory nod. “Yes, Mr. Riley, Mr. McGee and I are old acquaintances.”
“Please call me Parker, Katie. We don’t stand on formality here. And as far as getting us coffee, well, Luke and I are pretty used to getting our own.”
With a lift of her pencil-thin brows, she gave Luke a pointed look. “Well, then, I’m pleased to be able to serve you at least this once,” she said in a sweet tone. With polite efficiency, she handed one of the cups to Parker. “Cream and sugar, I believe?”
“Perfect, Katie, thank you.”
“You’re welcome. And here you go . . .
Luke
. . . just as you like it.”
Luke reached for the cup, unable to contain a grin. “Thanks, Katie. This is a real treat.”
“No problem . . .
sir
. Can I get either of you anything else?”
Luke lifted the cup to his mouth, poised for a jolt of caffeine. “No thanks, this is just perfect . . .” A spray of coffee spewed from his mouth. “Sweet mother of Job, what is this?” he croaked.
Katie turned with surprise on her face. “Why, coffee black, lots of sugar.”
With a horrified look, Luke swiped his mouth with a handkerchief and swallowed fiercely to clear the taste from his throat. “I hate sugar in my coffee,” he rasped.
“Oh dear,” Katie said with a pucker in her brow. “Betty must have said ‘hold’ on the sugar, and I thought she said ‘a whole lot of sugar.’ Here, I’ll get you another cup.”
“No!” Luke fended her off with a hand in the air. “Like Parker said, we usually get our own.” His smile was strained. “But, thank you.”
She bit her lip and scrunched her nose. “Goodness, I’m sorry, Mr. McGee, but undoubtedly that might be the safest course of action.” She smiled at Parker. “Is your coffee all right, Mr. Riley?”
“Perfect, Katie. And it’s Parker, remember?”
“Yes, sir.” She reached to gingerly place Luke’s cup and saucer back on the tray. Avoiding his gaze, she backed out of the office with tray in hand. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll just empty this.” She hurried out, leaving them in silence with the click of the door.
Luke leaned back in the chair and folded his arms, eyeing Parker with tight lips and an “I told you so” jag of his brow. “Now you see what I mean?”
Parker took a sip of his coffee while watching him over the rim of his cup. “Come on, Luke. It could have been an honest mistake.”
Luke plopped both arms on the desk and gaped, his jaw swagging in disbelief. “Are you kidding? The only thing honest about that woman is her utter disdain for me. And as far as being a mistake?” He stood and snatched his coat from the chair, pinning his friend with a warning gaze. “Gotta feeling, Parker ol’ buddy, that her being here is only the first of many.”
Wonders never ceased – she actually liked it here! The thought sent little ripples of shock skittering through Katie’s body as she typed at her desk – just as it had when the realization struck over a month ago after only two days on the job.
She supposed it could be the comfortable friendship she’d forged with both Betty and Bobbie Sue, not to mention various other volunteers who came and went throughout the week. Or maybe it was just the intense satisfaction of helping women in need – from unfortunate young girls at the Boston Society for the Care of Girls, to the pink-cheeked babies at the Massachusetts Infant Asylum. Whatever the reason, just knowing she played a part in lifting them up brought a sheen of pride to her eyes. Not only at the realization she was working on behalf of underprivileged girls at the BCAS, but that someday soon as a lawyer, she’d work on behalf of all women to secure their rights in a generation that was forging ahead.
Katie sighed and reached for her coffee. And, of course, there was Parker Riley. Sweet saints above, what a wonderful man! Hands down one of the nicest human beings Katie had ever met and a director more inclined to serve than be served. For the first time, Katie understood the cozy feeling she’d encountered her first day – a feeling not tied to ambiance or furniture, but to people themselves, a cohesion of personalities that felt so much like family.
The pungent scent of her typewriter ribbon rose to her nostrils, mingling pleasantly with the smells of the city and the aroma of her coffee as she sipped from her cup. She set it down and continued to plunk on the keys of her Remington, incredibly grateful – for the very first time – that Sister Mary Clare had been relentless with practices in high school typing class. Katie pushed the return lever with a focused glint in her eyes, rolling her lower lip with her teeth while entering information on the last of the adoption forms. With a sigh of satisfaction, she jerked the paper from the platen and placed it neatly on the pile, all ready for Luke.
Her rose-colored lips squirmed to the right.
Luke.
Or
Mister
McGee
, as she insisted on calling him. Mmm . . . another story altogether. Although as much as she hated to admit it, he wasn’t as bad as she’d feared. He mostly kept his distance, she noticed, at least when it came to her – polite and professional, just like the first day on the job, only this time without the smirk. Maybe Parker Riley had more clout than Betty knew, Katie thought with a triumphant smile, because something had certainly taken the starch out of Mr. Luke McGee’s shorts.
“Now there’s a devious smile with a plot in the making, wouldn’t you say, Bobbie Sue?”
Katie jolted from her reverie to see Betty grinning at her as if she were privy to her thoughts about a certain someone’s undershorts. A blast of heat broiled Katie’s cheeks, and as habits were hard to break, she silently blasphemed Luke McGee. Ignoring her obvious discomfort, she pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, hoping to intimidate the two grinning troublemakers and salvage her pride. Her chin jutted high. “Well, if you two have extra time on your hands to watch a poor, defenseless volunteer, then perhaps,
ladies
, the next pile of adoption forms should be yours.”
“Well, butter my biscuits, would you look at that color on our sassy girl’s face,” Bobbie Sue said, her generous Southern drawl as thick as molasses. “I do declare, it’s pert near the batter of my red velvet cake!” Mossy green eyes twinkled with tease in a round face edged with silver waves crowded with freckles despite a heavy dose of powder and rouge. She splayed sausage-like fingers against the ample bodice of her bright green dress and rolled her eyes. “And ‘poor’? Honey chile, if I had glad rags like you, I’d mosey myself down to Harper’s Beez-Arr and get me a real paying job.” Her hearty laughter boomed through the office like a rolling clap of thunder, complemented by the squeaking of her chair as she shook with hilarity.
The sound was nothing but contagious, and when coupled with the sight of the fifty-year-old woman’s ample body quivering in the chair like so much lime Jell-O, Katie had no choice. She grinned and aimed a Gem clip at her friend, narrowly missing the side of her short silver bob.
Bobbie Sue hooted and ducked. “And, honey chile, don’t get me started on ‘defenseless,’ cause I shore ain’t got all day.”
Betty crossed her shapely legs and leaned back in her chair, nibbling on one of the cookies Katie had baked for Bobbie Sue’s birthday. She arched a shapely brow with a grin as affectionate as Bobbie Sue’s. “She is a little on the feisty side, but she sure can bake. Although she has been somewhat of a disappointment in the cooking department. I thought by now she’d cook up a little trouble to add some spice to our life.” She winked at Katie. “And Mr. McGee’s.”
Another swell of heat invaded Katie’s cheeks, and she launched a cocky grin along with a second Gem clip in Betty’s direction. “Can I help it if the little twerp has grown up and acquired some manners? If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he drank all that sugar I gave him the first day. Something sure has sweetened his meanness.”
“Our Luke,‘mean’?” Betty chuckled. “Come on, Katie, he’s a pussycat once you get to know him, isn’t he, Bobbie Sue?”
“Mr. Priss?” With tongue in cheek, Bobbie Sue swiped a clean sheet of paper off her desk and shoved it into her typewriter. “Sure is, unless you’re typing his letters or playing Pinochle. I do declare, when it comes to grammar or games – that man is downright diabolical because he sure hates to lose.”
Katie lifted the stack of forms from her desk and rose, cradling them to her chest. “Diabolical. Mmm . . . now there’s an appropriate word. And speaking of the devil,” she said with a smirk, “I have forms to deliver.”
“Why don’t you deliver another cup of coffee?” Betty suggested sweetly. She tugged a sheet of paper from her typewriter and held out the letter she’d just typed while she patted her mouth in a fake yawn. “I could use a little excitement. Have him sign this, will you?”
Katie snatched the letter from her hand as she breezed by her desk. “Oooo, hot coffee . . . good idea! And if he doesn’t drink it, I can always scald his leg.”
Bobbie Sue chuckled and proceeded to bang the keys of her typewriter, the tap-tapping as sharp and merciless as a gangster’s gunfire. “Bless your pea-pickin’ heart, sassy girl, you’re almost as nasty as me.”
“Not yet,” Katie quipped with a firm knock on Luke’s door, “but I’m working on it.” At the sound of Luke’s answer, she shot a sassy smile over her shoulder and entered his domain, leaving the door ajar.
He waved her in as he spoke on the phone, then absently indicated she sit, which she did, but she had the distinct feeling he’d already forgotten she was there. His troubled eyes said he was a million miles away, engaged in a conversation that put a ridge in his brow. The coat was off and the tie was loosened as he sprawled back in his chair, feet on his desk and one hand cocked behind his head. A roll of peppermint Life Savers lay half open on his desk, and she was tempted to take one. Instead, she glanced at his tan, muscled arms beneath shirtsleeves rolled up and bit her lip. Her gaze wandered to the bulge of a bicep beneath his striped cotton shirt, and she felt a blush heat her cheeks. She took a calming breath and looked away.
A heavy sigh erupted from his lips, and the hand propped behind his head suddenly shifted to shield his eyes. “When did you see her last?” he asked.
Katie took advantage of his oblivion to study him – this enigma from her past – something she seldom allowed herself to do. From her memories of the man, he was prone to being cocky and way too sure of himself. There was no way she’d wanted to reinforce that by giving him the time of day. But assessing him now, she was reluctant to admit that the annoying little twit had managed to become a fine-looking man. The loathsome freckles she had once despised were now lost in a summer tan that Betty swore survived nearly all year long. Apparently the grown-up version of Cluny McGee still roamed the streets with the ruffians, spending weekends, nights, and even some lunch hours playing with the kids. Kickball, basketball, football, whatever and whenever – day or night, rain or shine. The man was obsessed with kids and sports, according to Betty, who claimed Luke McGee had a following on the streets that rivaled the Pied Piper.
A groan left his lips, and Katie’s attention shifted from the span of long trousers on the desk, to the wide, sensuous mouth pressed tight in a frown. His eyes were closed and brows crimped, as if he were drained by the voice on the other end, and for the first time in her life, a sliver of sympathy eked forth for Luke McGee.
“I’m on my way,” he said and then slammed the phone down with a touch of temper. His eyes suddenly registered on her face with a flicker of annoyance. “What do you want, Katie?”
She blinked, her sympathy burning out faster than a quarterinch fuse. She stood to her feet and tossed the forms and letter on his desk. “Your adoption forms,
sir
, and a letter Betty needs you to sign. You can give it to her yourself.” She turned to go.
“Katie, wait.”
She paused, still facing the door.
“Can you sit down again – please?” His voice was contrite.
She sucked in a deep breath and returned to her seat, hands folded on her lap and face stiff ahead, refusing to look him in the eyes.
He didn’t speak right away, but when he did, it trailed on the heels of a soft chuckle. “You are such a mule, Katie Rose.”
Her head snapped up, jaw tight and eyes waging battle.
He gave her a boyish smile. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? About snapping at you, I mean.” He reached for Betty’s letter and signed it with a flourish before disarming her with a teasing grin. “Not about the mule part, though. We both know it’s the truth.” He pushed the letter toward her, then began unrolling his sleeves, finally lifting his coat from the back of his chair and putting it on. His eyes suddenly sobered. “I gotta go find a lost kid, but I have more forms, if you don’t mind.” He retrieved folders from his desk and held them out with a conciliatory smile.
“Sure,” she said in a clipped manner. His gentle tone eased some of the tightness in her jaw, but she avoided his eyes nonetheless, snatching the files and heading for the door.
“By the way,” he said before she could escape, “everybody agrees – you’re doing a wonderful job. I’m sure your father will be glad to hear that.”
She stopped, not daring to turn around for the dreaded blush rising in her cheeks. She swallowed hard, her voice strained. “Thank you, Mr. McGee.”
“Katie.” He spoke it gently, barely above a whisper, and the sound caused her stomach to flutter.
She froze, hand on the knob. “Yes, Mr. McGee?”
“Call me Luke . . . okay?”
She took a deep breath and shot a nervous glance over her shoulder. The look in his eyes made her mouth go dry. “Yes, sir, Luke,” she said stupidly, appalled at the rush of warmth whooshing through her body.