Commitment (5 page)

Sheila waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t bother. I already invoiced ten tickets to Howard’s old firm.” A devilish smile curved her lips. “They really do need to pay closer attention to their bookkeeping.”

Maggie laughed. “You’re a shyster.”

Sheila stole a quick glance at her watch and turned for the door. “I have to go. The attorney who handles the legal work for the ladies will be here shortly. I have a few notes I need to add to the files.”

She waved the ticket. “I’ll see you next week.”

The older woman paused in the doorway. The calculating gleam in her eyes had Maggie taking an involuntary step back. “He’s single, you know, and handsome as the devil himself.”

“And I was just leaving,” Maggie said pointedly.

Sheila rolled her eyes and chuckled. “You’re right. Men are a terrible pain. Who needs one? Besides, from what I hear, he’s something of a man slut.”

“Sheila!”

“I just call them as I see them.” She pulled the lipstick from her pocket. “Thank you for the little pick-me-up. It’s just what I needed.”

Biting her lip, Maggie slung the strap of the heavy make-up case over her shoulder. The angry wail of an unhappy infant drowned out the clip-clop heels. Plaintive cries echoed from the back of the building. Another shriek pierced her soul, knocking her legs out from under her.

Her teeth clacked when her rump hit the cool metal folding chair. The strap slid from her shoulder and the bag dropped to the floor at her feet. Maggie’s gaze locked on the garland of crayon-colored pumpkins, pilgrims, and turkeys strung from one end of the room to the other. She avoided looking at it all afternoon, but even as the cries subsided into muffled sobs, she couldn’t tear her gaze from her fine, feathered friends.

Maggie ducked her head and concentrated on pulling soft, deep breaths, but the truth smacked her in the face. Repeatedly. Fairy tales don’t exist. Her prince may never come, and even if he did, no one could guarantee the happily ever after part. Tracy and Sean Sullivan were proof of that.

She didn’t need a man to make her happy. There was only one thing missing from her life. The one thing she wanted the most. Even that one thing was still possible. All she had to do was take the plunge. Take a chance.

The turkeys stared her down, their beady black magic marker eyes double-dog-daring her to make the call. Never one to back down from a challenge, Maggie pulled her cell from her purse and scrolled through the address book until she found the number she needed. She pressed the phone to her ear and closed her eyes, concentrating on pulling each breath in then pushing it out.

“Hello. This is Maggie McCann.” The steady calm of her voice shocked her from her stupor. Gripping the phone harder, she dove in head first, certain her hammering heart would follow. She raised her gaze to the festive garland once more, determined not to let the turkeys stare her down. “I have an appointment for my annual next Monday, but I was wondering if Dr. Stephens could manage a little extra time for a consultation.”

Chapter Four

“You came!”

Tom passed his coat to the young woman stationed at the coat check stand and accepted the ticket she gave him with a flirtatious smile. He turned that smile on the silver-haired dynamo clutching his arm. “You threatened me,” he said, dropping a kiss to Sheila McKenzie’s cheek.

She slipped her tiny hand into the crook of his arm and beamed up at him. “Nonsense. I would never resort the threats.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Blackmail.”

“Blackmail? That’s an ugly implication.”

“So is implying I bat for the other side.”

“The Cubs? Certainly not.” She gasped, but her eyes twinkled with mischief. “I know you’re a South Side boy.”

“You know what I mean.”

“You must admit it is uncommon for a man as handsome and successful as you are to remain unfettered. Whatever the reason may be, I certainly never meant to cast aspirations on your manhood.”

“Funny, that’s not how I remember the conversation going.”

She patted his arm. “That’s because your memory is starting to slip, darling. Why, you’ve forgotten to tell me how pretty I look this evening.”

Tom returned her smile and stepped back to give her the once over. Even into her seventies, Sheila McKenzie was a beautiful woman. The café au
lait
-colored cocktail dress set off her dark eyes and skimmed her petite frame. Her silver-white hair flowed away from her face in thick waves. His smile widened in appreciation as he drew her hand to his lips. “Pretty isn’t the word. You’re stunning.”

“And you are the devil,” she said with a laugh.

When she attempted to recover her hand, he held tight. “Run away with me, Sheila. You know you’re the only woman for me.”

She squeezed his fingers and rewarded him with a dreamy sigh. “If only I were thirty years younger.”

“I’ve always found older women incredibly sexy.”

Her bark of laughter caught the attention of a couple nearby. “Bullshit!”

The other couple’s jaws dropped. Tom flashed a beaming smile, and they turned away with a sniff. When he glanced at Sheila, the sharp look in her eyes almost made him flinch. “What?”

She graced him with a small, knowing smile. Diamonds glittered bright and hard on her fingers, ears, and at her throat, but her dark eyes melted like bittersweet chocolate. “Come with me. I think it’s high time someone introduced you to a more age-appropriate woman.”

“This was a set up,” he grumbled, standing his ground.

“Of course it was,” she said with a tinkling laugh. “Did you really think I cared whether you showed your pretty face or not? I’ve already deposited your check.”

“You are heartless, Sheila.”

“And you like that about me,” she countered, tucking her hand into his arm again. “Buy me a glass of that god-awful vinegar we’re passing off as wine and I’ll tell you all about her.”

“I love your talent for mocking your own accomplishments.”

She squeezed his bicep. “And I love the feel of warm, firm man. Stick close, darling, I want to feel you up a little more before I give you away.”

Tom threw his head back and laughed. He may have flexed a little too. “Heartless and shameless.”

“You’ll thank me,” she said with an airy wave of her hand.

They drew to a halt just inside the hotel ballroom. He surveyed the scene laid out before him, picking each detail out in one sweeping glance. The tiny white lights strung through the branches of potted trees were both tasteful and festive. A small orchestra played standards from the low bandstand set up at the far end of the room. The parquet dance floor was already crammed with couples. Uniformed wait-staff circulated with trays of crab puffs and shrimp. A buffet anchored by two artfully carved ice sculptures trailed the length of one wall. Four fully stocked bars beckoned the revelers.

“It’s just the usual crap.”

Tom acknowledged her assessment with a distracted nod. Then he clicked on the one noticeable difference between this benefit and dozens of others he attended as a part of his duties as a partner. Half of Chicago seemed to be in attendance. “Christ, did you blackmail them all? Is that the mayor?”

“Believe it or not, some people find me charming,” she said with a sly smile. When he shot her a dubious glance she shrugged. “The rest…Well, they think I’m too rich to piss off.”

His chuckle morphed into a laugh. He led her to the nearest bar where he ordered a glass of white wine. “Are you sure you won’t run away with me?” he asked. “We can go someplace warm and sunny. You can oil my back.”

“Are you rusting already?” She
tsked
softly. “Sad for one so young.”

Tom eyed the crowd, measured the depth of his patience, then added two fingers of scotch to the mix for safety’s sake. “I thought you wanted to feel me up.”

“No need to throw yourself at me. I prefer to be more subtle about these things.” She searched the crowd as he led her through the milling throng of guests.

Tom smiled a hello to a guy who looked a little familiar. At least, he hoped he managed a smile. It may have fallen a bit short, edging more toward a grimace. He hated these things. He hated the small talk, the business talk, and the intense negotiations masked as polite conversation.

Sheila gave his arm a squeeze and nodded to the room. “Time to mingle.”

He sighed and kept his gaze fixed on the bar set up along the far wall, charting his course to the next stop. “So, this woman you’re setting me up with… Whose niece is it?”

“I have no idea who her people are.” Sheila abandoned his arm to exchange air kisses with a passing blonde.

She reclaimed her hold on him. “I take it she’s over thirty?”

“Definitely.”

“Forty?”

“I don’t think she’s there yet.”

“Harelip?”

“And a club foot,” she retorted. “Can’t you give me a little credit? I’ve known you for years, Tom. I know what a snob you are.”

Her words felt like a punch in the gut. “A snob? I’m not a snob.”

“When it comes to women you are,” she chided. “A snob and an attention whore.”

He covered her hand with his and plastered a charming smile to his face. “Careful, Sheila, I’m beginning to think you don’t like me.”

She snorted, somehow managing to pull the derisive sound off with class and aplomb. If he didn’t have a weird prickly sensation tickling the back of his neck, he would have admired the effect. As it was, his
Spidey
-senses were all a-tingle.

“You forget I’ve known you since you were a nerdy little intern trailing after Howard picking up his paperclips.” She nodded to a knot of guests standing nearby, flashing a gracious smile.

“I was never nerdy.”

She forged ahead, brushing past his objection and slicing through the crowd like a Coast Guard cutter. “He was very fond of you. I am too, but I’m tired of watching you pick up whatever Barbie Doll you think will turn heads.” He drew to an abrupt stop but managed to rein in his temper enough to keep from jerking his arm from her grasp. His eyes narrowed to slits. She simply smiled in response. “I understand. Men are horribly vain. Lord, Howard used to spend more time in front of the mirror than I did.”

“I’m not vain.”

“Aren’t you?” Sheila stared up at him with just enough wide-eyed innocence to set alarm bells ringing in his head.

“I’m leaving.”

She pursed her lips and dropped all pretense of innocence. “I can’t stand watching men I like making fools of themselves. It’s maddening.”

Apparently, all pretense of teasing was behind them. “How exactly am I making a fool of myself?”

“You’re not the young stud about town anymore, Tom. Now, I’ll admit there’s nothing more amusing than seeing an old fool chasing after young women, but I can’t bring myself to laugh at you. I’m nipping it in the bud now, before you become a cocktail party joke,” she said, tipping her chin up defiantly.

“I’m only forty-six!”

“You aren’t a joke yet, but soon you will be if you aren’t stopped.” She squeezed his arm and refused to let up. It probably would have hurt if he wasn’t already numb.

First Sean, now Sheila. The attack hurt a little more coming from Sheila, though. He was used to ducking the shit Sean threw at him. He didn’t expect to be ambushed by his mentor’s widow, particularly after he’d shelled out five hundred dollars for the honor of attending the shellacking.

This was the woman who hugged him harder than a sumo wrestler when he was made partner in the firm her husband founded. He glanced down at her tiny hand. It scared him to realize the same frail hand clutched his arm with nearly the same intensity when they lowered Howard McKenzie’s casket into his grave.

“Who is she?” he asked at last.

“You’ll see.” Her grip relaxed on his arm. She waved a greeting to a woman passing by. “She’s beautiful. Not one of those skinny colt-like girls you usually go for, though. She’s built like a real woman. Smart as a whip. Kind-hearted but strong. Exactly the type of woman you need in your life.”

“Says you.”

Sheila nodded to the bar, and Tom reluctantly began to move again. “She’s done some work for us at Haven House. The women adore her. It’s hard not to admire her. She’s built her business from the ground up, and she’s very successful. Like you, I think she sells herself a bit short on the personal front, but I hope that will change.”