Bedroom Diplomacy(8)

“Maybe,” he said, letting go of her hand. But he did it slowly, his fingers sliding across hers, pausing as they reached the very tips.

Don’t go, she thought. Only because she didn’t have the guts to say it out loud. But apparently he wasn’t a mind reader after all, because he turned, grabbed his shoes and sweater and walked away.

She watched in silence as he disappeared into the dark, wishing they really could do it again, but knowing that it was better if they didn’t. Not that it hadn’t been fun flirting with him. But it could never be more than that.

*

When Rowena got to her suite, Betty, their live-in maid, was stretched out on the sofa watching Dynasty reruns on cable.

“That must have been some swim,” she said, sitting up and switching off the television, her tight gray curls pressed flat against the back of her head.

“Betty, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to take so long.”

“As if I have somewhere more exciting to be,” Betty said. She didn’t ask Rowena what had taken so long, and Rowena didn’t indulge.

Betty slowly rose from the couch, stretching her arthritic back. She had been with the family since Rowena was a baby. She taught Rowena to bake cookies, told her about the birds and the bees and took her for her first bra, since her mother couldn’t be bothered. And when Rowena was battling her addictions, Betty was the only person who never lost faith in her. But she was getting older, slowing down physically, and eventually it would be time for her to retire.

“Did Dylan wake up?”

“He didn’t make a peep.”

“Thanks for watching him,” she said, giving Betty a hug.

“No problem, sweetie. Tomorrow night, same time?”

“If you don’t mind.”

As she walked her to the door, Rowena casually asked, “So, what do you think of my father’s guest?”

“Mr. Middlebury? He seems friendly and very polite. A bit of a flirt, I suppose, and boy is he a hottie.” She looked back at Rowena. “Do they still call attractive men hotties?”

“Hottie works.”

“Well, then, he definitely is one. Maybe, if I were thirty years younger…” she said with a grin. “Why do you ask?”

Rowena shrugged. “Just curious.”

“Are you interested?”

She shook her head. “Not at all. You know I don’t date politicians.”

“Oh, he’s not a politician. He’s just here as a favor to his family. They seemed to think that because he’s a war hero, he would have more of an influence in Washington.”

Not a politician? Interesting.

“You seem to know an awful lot about him,” Rowena said.

“We’ve chatted a time or two. You should talk to him.”

She didn’t mention that she already had. “I’ll think about it.”

After Betty left, Rowena checked on Dylan, who was sound asleep in his crib, and then she showered, changed into her pajamas and crawled into bed with her computer to check her email, which, as usual, was mostly junk.

She was about to close her laptop, but on a whim, opened her browser instead and typed in Colin’s name.

A page of results popped up on the screen, but instead of social columns about a womanizing earl and his exploits, what she found was news stories about Colin Middlebury the war hero.

An honor he had clearly earned.

During his last tour in the Middle East, a helicopter he was a passenger in crashed. He was thrown from the craft and, with a shattered leg, had crawled back, dragging the pilot, who had been knocked unconscious, away from the wreckage. But before they could reach a safe distance the helicopter burst into flames. Both men suffered severe burns, and Colin spent first a month in the hospital, then another eight weeks in a rehab center.

It sounded as if Colin had been incredibly lucky. Other than the small scar bisecting his brow, he had no obvious marks. Until he took off his clothes, that is. And the last thing she needed to be doing was thinking about Colin with his clothes off. Did she miss dating? Sometimes. But there was nothing Rowena needed that she couldn’t provide herself. In or out of the bedroom.

That didn’t mean it wouldn’t be fun.





Three


The following day seemed to drag by, as if time were moving through a vat of molasses. Rowena tried to keep busy, ordering supplies, working on lesson plans and scouring the internet for craft ideas. Then right in the middle of a task, a vision of Colin, standing in the pool house, his chest bare, his arms thick with sinew, would pop into her head and she’d completely forget what she was doing.

Would he be at the pool again tonight, or when he said maybe, had he just been humoring her? Did he really mean no way lady? Maybe after they talked, he didn’t find her quite so attractive after all.