Calculated Risk (12 page)

“What’s the matter?” Quintin asked.
“Why did you stop?”

Her flustered tone echoed her agitated
demeanor. “Because I’m supposed to be encouraging you to talk about
yourself and your career, not vice versa.”

He blinked in confusion and then
laughed. “Is this carved in stone somewhere?”

She deliberated for a moment and
nodded. “Yes, I think it is. At least that’s what my mother told
me,” Stevie added demurely.

“Don’t believe it,” he admonished, not
trying to hide his amusement. “I find you more than interesting.”
His voice deepened. “I find you fascinating.”

The tea arrived. Stevie poured the
pungent liquid into handle-less cups and thought about his
compliment. She was becoming more and more self-conscious, and when
she spilled some of the steaming brew on the pristine white cloth,
that feeling escalated. “I make a terrible geisha,” she babbled,
using her napkin to blot the stain. “I also can’t dance or play the
lute and I’m banned from singing in three states.”

“But a geisha’s main art is to please a
man,” he countered, his long fingers curling around the fragile
teacup.

“How very chauvinistic, Mr. Ward,” came
her silken drawl. “Don’t you think a man should learn to please a
woman?”

Quintin’s black pupils eclipsed their
brown irises. “I think the perfect solution is for each to please
the other and, in doing so, discover even greater pleasures for
themselves.”

“Confucius couldn’t have said it
better.”

“Wisdom comes with age, and I’m just
now discovering who gives me pleasure.”

Her lashes fluttered like black
lacewings. “And who does?”

“Stephanie Brandt.”

“Why?”

“Because you know yourself. You listen
to the input of others but ultimately make your own decisions. You
don’t fulfill a role, you create it. I feel as if I’ve come home
whenever I’m with you, and …” He paused for a moment, waiting to
gauge her reaction. “…I love the idea of waking up next to
you.”

The sincerity of his declaration robbed
her of coherent thought. He was saying all the words she had been
praying to hear, and still she felt the need to proceed with
teasing caution. “You’re just as precocious as your son.” The
moment Stevie mentioned Rob, she saw him undergo a change. Her hand
quickly captured his. “I’m sorry. I meant to be coy not
cruel…I….”

“No, you’re right.” With his free hand,
he loosened the knot on his striped tie. “We can’t go forward until
this problem with Rob is solved. So far my plan has proved to be
less than brilliant.”

The waiter made a second appearance,
deftly bearing a massive round tray filled with covered dishes of
assorted sizes. He introduced each recipe with a flourish,
shrugging in bewilderment at his customers’ lack of
enthusiasm.

“You proved too appetizing a candy.
Instead of Rob’s getting sick of you, he’s craving more,” Quintin
remarked. He looked up from spooning crisp vegetables and pork over
rice. “I can understand his cravings. You hold a fatal attraction
for anyone names Ward.”

Shrimp and noodles got stuck in her
throat. “I…I didn’t do it intentionally.” Stevie jumped to her own
defense. “I did my best to show him how foolish our dates
were.”

“I know that.” He ignored the cutlery
in favor of ornate chopsticks. “But let’s be honest: You are in an
industry that sells its products and makes the bulk of its profits
from teenagers. You probably don’t even realize how well you fit
in.”

“How well I fit in!” she echoed. “I
felt like the proverbial stranger in a strange land, Quint. I
didn’t speak or understand their language; I was always wearing the
wrong clothes; their customs are totally foreign; that type of
health food nearly killed me. I was darn uncomfortable,” she
grumbled. “I couldn’t wait to get home and in my own environment. I
–“ Stevie stopped; a brilliant spark invaded her weary spirit.
“Quint, how comfortable would Rob be in my world?”

He waved his chopsticks in
confusion.

“My secretary has stockpiles of
engraved invitations to boring little social gatherings where
everyone professes to love everyone else, gossip is traded with
barracuda smiles, and the only food served is bait on a cracker.”
Her smile grew smug. “We’re talking black tie every night. How long
would it take for Rob to balk at another evening of tight collars,
real shoes and no health food? He won’t understand the language or
the customs, and while some of the people are stars, they have
little use for the ‘star-struck.’” Stevie leaned back against the
red leather upholstery. “I bet your son gets very bored, very fast.
What do you think?”

“I think you’re brilliant.” Quintin
lifted his teacup in salute. “When can you start?”

“Tonight. When Rob comes to work, I’ll
hit him with an invitation before he can issue one of his
own.”

“Don’t forget about school tomorrow,”
he admonished, once again assuming his parental duties. “I don’t
want his grades to suffer. I know he has a big exam coming up next
week.”

“You can’t have your cake and eat it
too,” she countered quickly. “Let’s deal this hand fast and furious
and bombard Rob with an event a night. He can cram for the exam
over the weekend.”

“You’re right. If I issue a curfew or
complain about his studies, Rob will get belligerent again. We’re
getting along much better.”

Stevie exhaled a satisfied breath.
“This will work. I’m sure of it.” With shared smiles, they renewed
their interest in the tempting Cantonese and spicy Szechwan
banquet.

Quintin looked at his watch and
grimaced. “We’ve been here two and a half hours. Your secretary is
going to shoot me.” He gave a cursory inspection of the check,
mentally added on a tip, and tossed the necessary bills on the
table. “I’ve got a three thirty appointment with three doctors who
are interested in having a clinic built.” He guided her toward the
cloakroom.

“That sounds promising.” Stevie slid
her arms into the silk lined sleeves of her leather
coat.

“Despite the general decline in
construction, last year was very good for me,” he reported,
dropping a tip into the jar and tossing his camel topcoat over his
arm. “This year is looking even better. Why don’t you stay inside
while I bring my car around.”

Her hand curved around his wrist. “I
think I’d better take a cab. Rob will be reporting for work
anytime, and if he sees your car …”

“Damn. I don’t like all this
subterfuge.” Quintin gave a rough push to the restaurant’s glass
door. “I feel like a sneak, as if we’re doing something illicit.”
He motioned for a nearby cab. “Of course there is something very
sexy about clandestine encounters.” His dark brows lifted
suggestively. Quintin’s hand sank into the rich fullness of her
hair, pulling her head the scant few inches needed to make contact
with her lips. The kiss was hard and quick but nonetheless
exciting, and when it was over, Stevie had difficulty recovering
her breath and her poise to tell the cabbie where to go.

***

“I really thought this was going to
work, Gloria,” Stevie sighed for the third time and stared
forlornly into the fragrant orange and spice tea that shimmered in
the white mug. “Monday, I dragged Bobby to the art museum’s cubist
exhibit and we sat in uncomfortable, unpadded chairs for three
hours, listening to a lecture that was followed by a flute concert.
Tuesday was a real opera instead of the ‘Opry.’ Wednesday, the
ballet at the art’s center, and tonight –“ she paused and looked at
her secretary. “Where the hell are we going tonight?”

Gloria leafed through her notepad,
“Back to the ‘Opry’ to hear the gospel groups practice for the
award ceremonies and a party at the Carstairs.”

“The kid should be exhausted. I know I
am.” Stevie sagged into the bolstered comfort of the leather
executive chair. “He should gag when he looks at his tux; I know it
takes me an hour to get up enough courage to even look through my
closet and find something formal to wear. That damn kid should be
bored!”

“The roses are still coming,” Gloria
reminded her boss. “What does Papa Ward say?”

“We talk on the phone every night until
one of us, usually me, falls asleep. Quint says Bobby still
whistles all the way up the stairs after I drop him
home.”

“Some women have it and some women
don’t!”

Stevie made an ugly face. “I want to
‘it’ the father, not the son.”

“Like that, huh?”

“Like that,” Stevie concurred. “I miss
seeing Quint. Between my schedule and the late nights, all I get to
do is hear his voice. Cuddling the telephone is not the same.” She
gulped a mouthful of lukewarm tea. “Do you have any suggestions on
how to deal with Bobby?”

“Are you kidding? I can’t figure out my
own teenagers, let alone somebody else’s.” Her pencil point tapped
the notepad. “Back to work, sweetie; the correspondence is piling
up and so are the demo tapes. I spread a few around to lighten your
In basket; you can review the reports.”

“How many people are we
down?”

“Between the flu and winter vacations,
about fifteen, and if you keep up this insane schedule,” Gloria
warned, “you’ll be dictating from a sanatorium.”

“Right now that sounds mighty
tempting.”

Stevie turned off the shower spray,
slid open the etched glass door and listened. “That’s the
doorbell!” Dripping arms were jerked into terrycloth sleeves while
the rest of the thick robe was bundled and belted around her
shivering body. The luminous dial on her alarm showed six a.m. as
Stevie sprinted out of the bedroom.

“Quintin!” She pulled him inside and
stared at the rugged face that looked drawn and pinched, gray flesh
bagged under his eyes. “What is it? You look awful.”

“I haven’t slept. I prowled around the
house all night; my poor housekeeper thought we had a
burglar.”

Compassionate eyes silently watched his
private torment. “Do you want some coffee?” After she made the
offer, Stevie wondered if, in his agitated condition, he could
handle the added stimulation of caffeine.

“Yes. No.” His hand made a series of
confused movements.

She took a deep breath, grabbed his
wrist, and led him into the living room. “Tell me what’s the
matter.”

“Rob.”

“Oh, God,” her hand went to her throat,
“he didn’t…didn’t run away or –“

“No.” His fingers ravaged his dark
hair. “No. He’s still sleeping.” Quintin leaned back, resting his
exhausted body in the confines of the sofa. “Last night, after you
dropped him home, Rob spent an hour telling me that the past week
has been the highlight of his life. How wonderful all your friends
were to him; what a great time he had being with you day and night;
that you are the sweetest, sincerest, kindest, most caring woman
he’d ever met.”

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes!” His fist pummeled his thigh.
“That damn kid outsmarts us at every turn.”

Stevie’s shoulders slumped; her
dejected expression matched his. “Now what? Frankly, Quint, I can’t
think of anything else to do.” Her fingers stroked his still-tight
fist. “I’d offer to extend my stay in California next week and hope
time and distance would solve the problem, but I just don’t have
the luxury of that option right now.”

“I know. You’ve really gone above and
beyond.” His hand made a weary pass over his eyes, his chest
heaving under stress. “I’ve been trying to think of something that
would end this and end it fast.” Quintin suddenly turned his head
and avoided her eyes, concentrating instead on the wooden buttons
and rope toggles that decorated his sheepskin jacket. “I…I think we
should try a scare tactic.”

“What kind of scare tactic?” Each word
was expelled with cool deliberation.

“I think you should take him into the
more –“ Quintin swallowed “—lurid music world.”

“What!” Her hand grabbed his jaw,
jerking his face toward her. “Are you crazy! I told you before I am
not into the drug scene or the wild parties or –“

“But you know who is.”

“Well, yes, but –“

“And you know where they
happen.”

“Well…yes…but –“

“And you could get invited and you
could bring Rob and you could shock the hell out of
him.”

“It would shock the hell out of me
too!” Came her vehement protest. “Quintin, this is insane.” Stevie
stood up, her back forming a barrier that was just as emphatic as
her words. “I will not do it.”

He moved behind her; his
hands curved around her upper arms. “Listen to me. I have really
thought this through. I didn’t just dream it up. I’ve been up all
night doing research.
Scared
Straight!
won major awards, and made a huge
impact. Over the years, both the prison program and the film have
turned countless kids away from drugs, violence and crime, and kept
them out of prison.”

“And you think this brilliant scheme of
yours is going to mirror that?” Her response was
sarcastic.