His for the Taking - By Ann Major Page 0,44
rushed, she grabbed her purse off its hook and raced out of her office, her high heels clicking on the polished tile floor.
Even before she reached the door at the end of the hall, where George, her favorite young volunteer, scanned the area with fierce, earnest eyes while he stood guard for her, she heard exuberant laughter erupting from the room that was used for tours, church services on Sundays and other meetings.
Strange, she thought. Then George pushed the door open and she saw Cole.
“Okay, everybody, she’s here,” George announced to the clump of women who were gaily laughing at something Cole had said.
“This is Miss Gray. She’s going to conduct your tour today,” George said.
Cole clapped.
“Sorry I’m late,” Maddie began, feeling flustered as she tapped her lectern with her pen while Cole’s amused green gaze drilled into her.
Damn him. She’d told him she didn’t have time to talk today.
Usually her tour groups were dominated by staid, upper-middle-class matrons who were considering volunteering. Today the women were more focused on Cole than her.
When Cole gave Maddie another slow, insolent grin, she ignored him and began her talk about the shelter. Because he was such an unnerving presence, Maddie spoke fast, too fast, forgetting entire topics she should have mentioned.
Cole, who must have researched My Sister’s House on its webpage, asked lots of questions.
“I always thought that places like this just enable dope addicts and prostitutes,” he murmured drily.
Smiling tightly, she gave a quick reply. “Anybody who stays in our shelters must agree to drug testing. We are associated with all the best agencies in the city. They can help our clients get jobs, get clean and get their lives back on track. We are not enablers.”
“Good to hear. What percentage of your clients do you save? Surely, it’s quite small.”
It was infinitesimal; still, it was a start.
“Not nearly as many as we’d like,” she was forced to admit. Annoyed, she glanced at her watch. “But since I seem to be running a little late, I can’t take any more questions until I finish the tour!”
He laughed.
Furious, she raced through her tour while the women remained distracted by Cole. By the time Maddie had completed her talk, she was breathless with outrage.
Ignoring him, she said goodbye to the ladies before handing them off to George. Then she stormed down the hall to her office. Racing to catch up with her, Cole stepped inside the tiny room before she could slam the door on him.
“I’m at work here. I don’t have time to play games,” Maddie said.
“Who’s playing games?” He pulled a check out of his pocket. “Your talk inspired me to write My Sister’s House a sizable check.”
When she saw the truly generous amount, she grew so hot under her collar she was sure she’d burst a blood vessel. “You don’t care about My Sister’s House.”
“I care about you. And Noah.”
“I’ll have you know you can’t just buy your way into my office because you want to bully me.”
“I beg to differ.”
“I think you’re contemptible.”
“Take the check. I’m sure you, as the director, can’t afford to turn down a donation that large,” he murmured as he placed the check in her trembling palm and folded her rigid fingers over it finger by finger. “Just as I’m sure you wouldn’t want me to inform your board that you wouldn’t make time for such a generous donor.”
She pressed her lips together and took a deep breath. “I will have my board send you a letter formally thanking you.”
“I’m sure you will, but I’d prefer a personal thank-you.”
“Okay! Thank you.” Straightening his check, she slid it into her top drawer. “You’ve had your fun. Now, would you please go?”
“No. I intend to meet Greg—and Noah—before I leave town. Greg’s due here soon, I believe?” He looked at his watch. “Oh, dear, is he late?”
She kicked her desk, wishing it were him.
Grinning, he sat down to wait.
When he refused to budge no matter how hard she glared at him, she sank down into her own chair in weary defeat. In the tense silence that ensued, time dragged and her green walls felt as if they were pressing in on her.
“Okay,” he said in a terse tone several minutes later. “You’re short on time, so let’s not waste it by sulking. I’m here for one thing—to convince you to agree to marry me.”
“This is the twenty-first century. You can’t force me into a shotgun marriage six years after the fact.”
“We have a son. Giving him my