Lilly giggled. “From the sound of it, you may just get your wish. I have a feeling you’ll have to mind both your tongue and your temper. He is your boss, after all.”
Katie grunted and hoisted the cookie sheet into the oven. “He’ll always be a soda jerk to me, nothing more than a hayseed with a law degree.” She set the egg timer and heaved a sigh. “But you are right, Lil. He’s just obnoxious enough to run to Father if I don’t toe the line, so I have no choice. But I’ll tell you one thing, this summer can’t end soon enough to suit me.”
“Or Jack,” Genevieve said with an eye on the cookies. “He’ll go crazy.”
“Mmm . . . maybe not,” Katie said.
“What do you mean, ‘maybe not’?” Genevieve edged closer to the platter and took a reluctant sniff. With a defeated sigh, she moaned and snatched two cookies from the plate. “Thanks a lot, Katie – here goes my diet.”
Katie quirked a brow. “You mean the one you break whenever you get around food? Look, Gen, how many times do I have to tell you to forget the diet – you look fine the way you are. Thin may be in, but we all know that men still like curves. Look at Theda Bara.”
A pout formed on Genevieve’s lips. “I know, but the styles all cater to the skinny minnies like you, and you know it. And you didn’t answer me – what do you mean ‘maybe not’?”
“I mean,” Katie emphasized with a hike of her jaw, “that Father never said one word about the telephone, so I can talk to Jack almost every day.”
“That is, when your father’s not around.” Lilly smirked, mouth full of cookie.
“Precisely.” Katie notched her chin a degree. “And honestly, can I help it if Jack gets a whim to pay me a visit in the middle of the night by throwing a pebble at my window?”
Gen’s eyes bulged as she choked. Katie poured a glass of milk, then patted her on the back as she gulped it down.
“You’re going to sneak out?” Gen stammered, hand to her chest.
“No, just sit on the back porch. It’s not like a date or anything. Besides, I told him no, but you know Jack – if he wants to see me, nothing will stop him.”
“Nothing will stop who?” A baritone voice sounded behind her, and Katie gasped. She whirled around to glare at her brother Steven as he strolled into the kitchen. “You plotting trouble again, Katie Rose?” he asked with that slow, easy grin that melted many a girl’s resolve. At twenty-one, her once shy and brooding brother had transformed into a confident and popular college man, traveling in circles that threatened her father’s peace of mind even more, if possible, than she. He plucked several cookies off the platter and tweaked the edge of her bob on his way to the icebox. “I thought I smelled cookies in here. Bribery won’t work, you know.”
“Hello, Steven,” Lilly whispered in a timid voice, hushed with reverence. All Gen could do was nod, her chipmunk cheeks bright red and chunky with cookie.
Steven poured a glass of milk and grinned at Katie’s friends, his blue eyes revealing a twinkle. “Hi, Lilly, Gen. You part of this conspiracy too?”
“What conspiracy?” Katie demanded. She folded her arms.
Steven took a swig of milk and winked at Lilly. Color whooshed into Lilly’s cheeks, making her and Gen a matched pair. “The one to defy Father and sneak out to see Jack.”
“You’re a fine one to talk about defying Father. At least I don’t drink and carouse at speakeasies half the night.”
Steven grinned and downed the rest of his milk. “Yeah, but you’re not in college yet either, little girl.” He sauntered toward the door, popping another cookie into his mouth before she could shoo him away. “And if Father catches you sneaking out to see Jack, you won’t ever be.” He turned, one muscled arm pressed against the swinging door as he swallowed the cookie whole. All at once the charm of his smile faded, and his blue eyes reflected the somber warning of an older brother. “Don’t risk it, Katie. Father’s used to me giving him trouble. But don’t you risk your future by incurring his wrath. He deserves your respect.”
“But not yours, is that it?” Her eyes challenged him.
Steven vented an almost inaudible sigh as he absently fanned a thick hand through dark, auburn hair. A hint of regret flickered briefly in his eyes, reminding her so much of the gentle brother of her past. But it didn’t last long. A swaggering smile replaced his pensive air. “It’s too late for me,” he said with a final word of warning, “but not for you. Stay out of trouble, you hear?” He glanced at Gen and Lilly, reheating their cheeks with a pointed look. “And you two help her, okay?”
The door whooshed closed as Gen and Lilly sighed in unison. “Your brother is such a sheik.” Lilly fanned her face with a pot holder. “Is he still dating what’s-her-name?”
“Maggie Kennedy,” Katie said with an edge in her tone. “And, yes, unfortunately. None of us like her, especially Father. He thinks she’s a bad influence.”
Gen chewed a cookie, her eyes lost in a dreamy stare. “Maybe, but I think Steven’s the bad influence – the way he looks is pure danger for any girl.”
“What I wouldn’t give for danger like that.” Another sigh parted from Lilly’s lips.
“And speaking of danger,” Gen said with a glint in her eyes. “Does Jack have any idea who you’ll be spending your summer with?”
Katie scrunched her nose. “Trust me, Gen, the only ‘danger’ this summer will be if Farm Boy thinks he can push me around. But to answer your question, no, Jack has no idea. I figure there’s no sense in stirring the pot, especially when the stove the pot is sitting on is stone cold.”
Lilly glanced at Gen, then shot Katie a crooked grin. “I don’t know, I’d keep that spoon handy if I were you. Gotta feeling that hayseed lawyer knows his way around a stove – and a girl.” She wriggled her brows as she bit into a cookie. “And something tells me he has a knack for turning up the heat.”
The egg timer beeped and Katie jumped. Her lips flattened into a tight line as she armed herself with pot holders. She removed the tray from the oven and placed it on the table. The warmth of the cookies steamed her cheeks along with a blush, forcing a stubborn bent to her jaw.
She gripped the spatula like a weapon, flipping a cookie too hard and breaking it in two. “Well, I’ll tell you one thing, Lil,” she said with a threat in her tone, “if by some freak of nature he does manage to ‘turn up the heat’ . . .” She popped the broken piece of cookie in her mouth and smirked. “It sure won’t be me who gets burned.”
4
The dreaded Boston Children’s Aid Society. A silent moan wallowed in Katie’s throat as she stood on its threshold, wishing she were anywhere but here. She smoothed her pleated skirt with sweaty hands while sneaking a nervous glance at the back of her legs to ensure her seams were straight. With a deep draw of air, she hiked her hem to readjust her rolled silk stockings, then allowed the navy material to flounce back to just below her knee. She straightened her shoulders, grateful for the two-inch heels of her new Mary Jane shoes, which helped somewhat in rising to the occasion of working with a pest from her past. She thought of Mr. Luke McGee at the age of fourteen – a little twerp who’d been almost a head shorter than she – and wished the little beggar had never grown an inch. She hiked her chin to summon her confidence. Even so, she’d lay good money on the table that her five foot two could take his six foot three any day of the week. At least mentally. Her lips squirmed into a devious smile.
LEGAL DEPARTMENT. The gold lettering on the bubbled glass door suddenly swam before her, and immediately she wanted to throw up – an effect Cluny McGee obviously had on her. But the die was cast, as her father liked to say, and she supposed there was no turning back now. She sucked in a bolstering swallow of air and put her hand to the knob, holding that very breath until the door squealed open.
She blinked twice, blinded by sunlight streaming in from a wall of imposing windows, each opened wide to the sounds of the city below. Somewhere outside, a jackhammer was grinding, merging with the wailing of a siren and
the honk of a horn while an early-morning breeze ushered in the scent of the sea and the distinct smell of asphalt. Above it all rose the click-click of typewriter keys and the faint sound of men’s voices punctuated by laughter.
The office itself, although quite large and rectangular, had a decidedly cozy feel, and Katie couldn’t figure out why. Other than a few spindly potted plants by the windows and several framed city scenes interspersed on various dingy walls, the room was anything but warm. Certainly the dated gray file cabinets lining one side did nothing to help, nor did the three gargantuan wooden desks arranged in a row. Although a warm oak color, each was badly scarred and littered with papers, lending a disheveled air to the already shabby furnishings. To the far right of the room ran a span of three to four office doors, some closed, some beckoning with beams of hazy sunlight spilling forth, as if the glory of God resided within. Or someone cocky enough to think he was God, Katie thought with a shift of her jaw.
“May I help you, miss?”
Katie startled, suddenly aware she was gaping. She stared at the pretty woman who occupied the front desk, then straightened her shoulders and jutted her chin to deflect the heat in her cheeks. “Yes, thank you. My name is Katie O’Connor, your new volunteer for the summer.”
The woman nodded and gave her a polite smile, but Katie thought she detected a glint of humor in her hazel eyes. She rose smoothly from her chair and moved effortlessly around the desk, extending a perfectly manicured hand. “Hello, Katie, we’ve been expecting you. My name is Betty Galetti, and I’m the secretary here.”
Katie stared, totally aware that her jaw was sagging, but she was too stunned to care. Her eyes traveled from the top of the woman’s shimmering auburn hair down to a sleek, shapely torso that flowed into two perfectly formed legs that went on forever. Katie extended a hand while her head tipped up in awe, feeling for all of her five foot two that she’d been stunted at birth. “Pleased to meet you, Betty,” she said with a tone of respect. “And forgive me, please, but . . . would you mind if I asked how tall you are?”
The woman’s full scarlet lips widened into a charming smile, despite the meticulous application of lipstick in the narrow Cupid’s-bow style. There was no mistaking the twinkle in the hazel eyes now. “Only five foot ten,” she said with a bold grin. “But the heels are two and a half inches.” She cocked one perfectly shaped leg back, revealing a buttercream pump with a high heel and a curved pointed toe, a near-perfect match for her pretty cream shift. She leaned close to Katie with a conspiratorial smile, then lowered her voice to a whisper. “Call me crazy, but I think the height helps when Luke – ” a mischievous smile tugged at the corners of her full mouth – “I mean Mr. McGee . . . gets a mind to bully us around.”
Katie awarded Betty with a genuine flash of teeth, almost giddy at the thought of moral support in her war against Luke McGee. “Trust me, if he’s as cocky as he was at the age of fourteen when he barely came to my knees, I can’t imagine what he must be like now. But so help me, I think I’m about to find out.”
“No question about that,” Betty said with a throaty laugh. “Come on, I’ll show you where you’re going to sit.”
She led Katie to the third desk at the back of the room, right in front of a second-story window where she could see and feel the frenetic pace of the city below – clanging trolleys, darting autos, and an endless scurry of people and things. The energy of Boston, which, like the heat of the summer, seemed to ripple skyward in waves of exhilaration that triggered Katie’s pulse. She closed her eyes and breathed in the promise of adventure and independence that came with a career in the city. She felt the coziness she’d sensed earlier slowly seep into her bones. Mmm . . . maybe this will be fun after all, she thought with relief.
“Good, you’re finally here.”
Katie’s eyes opened a fraction, causing the contentment to sour on her lips. Then again, maybe not.
Luke glanced at his watch and forced a polite smile. “Good morning, Miss O’Connor, welcome to the Boston Children’s Aid Society – we’re glad you’re here.” He nodded toward a wooden time clock on the wall where the timepiece registered 9:10. His tone, as crisp and professional as the charcoal double-breasted suit he wore, matched the superior lift of his thick blond brows. A faint smile hovered on his lips. “But just for future reference, you may want to note we start work at eight sharp. Miss Galetti here will be happy to show you how to clock in.”
His blue eyes lighted on Betty with hypnotic quality. “Betty, once you get her settled in, please bring her into Parker’s office – we’ll be going over agent applications.” He turned to go.
“Uh, excuse me . . . Luke.” Katie’s tone attempted a show of humility.
The broad back froze before slowly wheeling halfway. The tight line of his chiseled jaw defied the faint smile on his lips. “Yes, Miss O’Connor? Oh, and just for propriety’s sake, perhaps you better call me Mr. McGee.”
The steel in her chin lifted to meet his. “I was just wondering . . . Mr. McGee . . . why do I need to clock in?”
He blinked. “Excuse me?”
Katie placed her purse on the desk and casually clasped her hands to her back, brows arched in innocence. “I mean, if this is volunteer work and I don’t get paid, sir, why do I need to punch a payroll time card?”
The professional smile eased wide into battle as he turned to face her dead-on, arms casually crossed like an ad from Vanity Fair. As usual, those annoying blue eyes seemed to pierce right through her despite a glimmer of a twinkle. “Why, to keep track of your hours, of course, and to maintain both our professionalism and your commendable commitment to volunteer. After all, Miss O’Connor, this is a workplace.”
She ground her jaw, incensed at the heat swarming her cheeks – a condition provoked only by the runt this man used to be. She propped hands on her hips and took a step forward, careful to enunciate each word slowly so it would sink into his hard, hard head. “But, Mr. McGee . . . I-don’t-get-paid.”
His exasperating calm remained intact, along with the patient curve of his lips. “Oh, but you do get paid, Miss O’Connor. I’m quite certain the reward of helping children will be more than payment enough.” The smile tugged enough to indicate he was fighting a grin. “That and the promise of law school, if you should be fortunate enough to go.” He glanced at his watch once again, then dismissed her with a dazzling smile. “Excuse me, but I’m late for a meeting.”
For the second time since she arrived, Katie stood gaping, the click of his door a slap in her face. She felt the fire in her cheeks clear up to her eyes. “God, help me . . . I can’t do this.”
“Oh yes you can, sweetie.” Betty placed a tapered hand on Katie’s arm and steered her toward the time clock, a hint of soothing in her tone. She leaned close to whisper in her ear. “You just have to learn how to handle him.”
Katie peered up, eyes squinted. “What, you have a manual on dealing with morons?”
Betty chuckled and pulled a time card from a slot, then nodded toward the closed door. “Nope, but I have some experience in dealing with that one. Here, just write your name on a card every week and punch it in this machine when you come or go.” She handed the card to Katie with a secret smile. “Luke and I grew up together, you know, so I had to learn the hard way.”
Katie snatched the card with a roll of her eyes. “As if there’s an easy way with a clod like him.”
The woman’s smile shifted to the right. “Nope, nothing’s easy with Luke, that’s for sure.” Her features softened for the briefest of moments as a touch of melancholy shadowed her smile. But then it was gone in a blink of her eyes. “Especially if you fall for him.”
Katie froze, her hand glued to the time card she’d inserted halfway. “Fall for him?” she uttered in profound disbelief. She turned to stare, her jaw distended for the third time that morning. She snapped it shut, wondering why anything ever shocked her when it came to McGee.
Betty smiled and arched a brow. “Or so I’ve hea
rd,” she said in a smooth tone.
Katie rammed the card all the way in and jerked it out quickly, flinging it into an empty slot as if her fingers were on fire. “Well, the saints be praised, there’s no danger there.”
“The trick is to not let him rile you,” Betty continued with a graceful flick of her hair. She moved toward Katie’s desk with a mesmerizing sway of her hips. “It’s kind of like a shark with the scent of blood in the water.” She turned and smiled, trailing ruby-red nails along the back of Katie’s chair. “If you let him get under your skin, you’re lunch.”
A moan erupted from Katie’s throat. She plopped against the edge of her desk and folded her arms. “Oh, that’s just great. I may as well stop breathing.”
Betty’s soft giggle floated up as she bent to open a drawer. “In these three drawers, you’ll find everything you need for typing, filing, and general appeasement of both Lu – er, Mr. McGee, our assistant director, and Mr. Riley, the director.”
“Well, at least he’s not the top boss,” Katie blurted in relief.
Sympathy radiated from Betty’s patient smile. “Sorry. Parker Riley is Luke’s best friend from school and a real softie with a heart of gold. Which means he usually lets Luke badger him into having his own way.”
Katie groaned and put her face in her hands. “Maybe law school is not such a good idea.”
“Oh, that’s right. Mr. McGee mentioned you hoped to attend Portia Law School in the fall. How exciting!”
“Not if my father refuses to pay for it. Which, if he gets his way – ” Katie jerked a thumb toward the closed door – “may just happen.” She squinted up at Betty. “Do we really have to call him Mr. McGee?”
Betty blew on the keys of Katie’s battered typewriter, and dust flew up in a cloud. She scrunched her nose. “Just for a while . . . at least till he loosens up. But believe it or not, he’s just as nervous as you.”
“He is?” Katie tried out the chair with a spin, then put her purse in the drawer. She peered up after opening and closing the drawers, making a mental list of questions to ask and things she needed to do. Her inner smile was devious. Like annoy Luke McGee.