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No way. Not when he was just starting to get some freedom from all the people he had to fix things for.
If it really was her who was here now —
What if she was dressed — or undressed — just as she had been in the park? If she really had Lancelot, Van would have to see her. But it had sounded in the park as though she had a brain as well as a body. That would really do him in.
“Walden,pleasetellmeLancelotisn’twithayoung woman called Mary Samuel. Please tell me she isn’t wearing some frilly, see-through, black nightie thing.”
The silence from Walden on the other end of the phone stretched out.
“I wouldn’t know as to her attire, sir,” Walden finally said. “I mean, she is wearing a trench coat, but I couldn’t say as to what she might be wearing under it. I’m sorry, sir, but she did give her name as Mary Samuel.”
Van had managed to be so rude to her she should havewantedtoneverbeinhisvicinityagain,butshe couldn’t very well ship a dog back to him by courier as she had with his jacket. Van squared his shoulders and donned as much indifference as he could scrape together. “Send her up, Walden.”
When the knock on the apartment door came, it sounded more like a kick. A not very well-aimed kick.
Heopenedthedoor.Sureenough,Lancelotsagged in the arms of the woman from the park. He looked guilty, penitent, and woebegone, the little devil. The female person looked much more securely dressed this time.
What a shame, he thought before he could stomp on the thought.
She also looked angry. He regretted that too, although it was interesting to watch her cornflower-blue eyes flash fire.
“Here.”ShethrustLancelotintoVan’sarms.“Can’t you keep your dog home? I’m trying to breed Guinevere with a champion.” Her face softened. She reached out to stroke Lancelot in apology, but snatched her hand back. “You’re a champion too,” she told the dog, “but I need a Saint Bernard champion.”
Van had to laugh. “Considering the height of Guinevere, and the height of Lancelot, I don’t think he could do much harm to your breeding program.” Van sobered. “I don’t see how he got out at all. We’re on the fifth floor.”
“Van, dear, is someone at the door?”
“Nothingtobeconcernedabout,AuntCynthia.Just a small nuisance. I’ll take care of it.”
Somebodysnarled,anditwasn’tLancelot.Vanhad to acknowledge he may not have chosen his words well.
Aunt Cynthia appeared at his side and touched his arm. “Please pardon my nephew. I taught him better manners than this. Do come in.”
Trust Aunt Cynthia to make him feel like a schoolboy all over again. “Aunt Cynthia, may I present Mary Samuel? Mary, my aunt, Cynthia Van Deventer Smythe.”
“Welcome, my dear. You’ll stay for tea.”
It wasn’t a question, and it wouldn’t have been even if it had sounded like one. Van had never figured out how, but one way or another, Aunt Cynthia always got her way. She seemed so helpless when it came to living in the real world. Look at the five thousand dollar vacuum she had bought at her door. The salesman had been such a nice person, she’d said, and desperate to pay his dying wife’s medical bills.
Van had considered addressing the problem by ordering her not to buy anything from door-to-door salespeople, with or without ailing spouses, but he’d known it wouldn’t work. It was clear who gave the orders on the plant floor or in the boardroom at Van Deventer Ventures. Aunt Cynthia was another matter.
She explained away the next ridiculous purchase by saying the salesman had been at her neighbor’s door, not her own, and besides, the neighbor’s door-to-door salesman had a two-year-old daughter who would never walk again unless she got an expensive operation.
Van had sworn to make sure no more salesmen could get near Aunt Cynthia’s door. The next thing he knew, he’d moved her in with him. Walden and his colleagues downstairs on the front desk stopped all sales representatives.
They wouldn’t turn away the visitor with the Van Deventer dog in her arms, however. So, Cynthia would probably buy whatever this visitor was selling, unless Van thought fast.
Aunt Cynthia smiled at their visitor with her usual steel-buttercup charm. He was used to that. What pole-axedhimwasMary’sansweringsmile.Hedidn’t want to find out what would happen if she ever directed it at him, instead of Aunt Cynthia.
The smile transformed Mary’s pretty features into stunning. Her cute, perky little snub nose with its dusting of freckles was still there. Her sparkling cornflower-blue eyes were probably still trying to see through a waterfall of stubborn blonde hair that insisted on falling across her face. The curve of her slender neck still beckoned every susceptible male insight.Herblindingsmile,though,madeeverything else a vague memory.
Suddenly, he had a whole new perspective on the lady in the nightie in the park. What the difference was, he hadn’t a clue. Maybe if he figured that out, he’d be able to get her back out of his placid, orderly world.
The two women sailed off, arm in arm, into the interior of the apartment. Too walloped to follow them, Van stood in the apartment foyer, trying to hang on to wiggling Lancelot.
Van reached out to close the apartment door. That gave Lancelot his chance. With one mighty heave, the dog leaped out of Van’s arms and raced out into the hall.
“Oh no you don’t.” Van pelted after Lancelot.
