Her Secret, His Duty

The receptionist connected her to him immediately.

“Good morning, Debra.” His deep smooth voice was like a physical caress through the line.

She returned the greeting, although what she wanted to do was tell him about her frantic search for his list that morning, the ridiculousness of finally finding it in the freezer and that Myra’s cinnamon rolls had made her slightly queasy.

Trey told her he intended to come to the house around two and they would meet then to hammer out any decisions that needed to be made. Then they disconnected.

Debra leaned back in her chair and for the first time in years wished she had a best friend. Her entire adult life had been built surrounded by the Winston family. There hadn’t been time for friends outside of the intimacy of the family members.

Certainly her childhood hadn’t been conducive to making friends. She’d never invited anyone to her home, afraid that her classmates might see her mother drunk or hungover. Once she started working for Kate, the work and the family had taken precedence over anything and everyone else.

That had been part of her problem with dating Barry. There had been little time to really grow any meaningful relationship. Although ultimately he’d broken up with her because he told her he wasn’t getting what he needed from her, she’d already intended to break up with him because she’d figured out he was getting what he needed from his married secretary. The jerk.

Maybe it was best that she didn’t have a best friend, she thought as her hand fell to her lap and she caressed her lower belly.

Perhaps she would be tempted to share too much with a best friend, and a secret wasn’t a secret if two people knew about it. And Debra knew better than anyone that she had a secret that had the potential to destroy a career before it began.

* * *

Trey had been disturbed since he’d left the nursing home the night before. His grandmother had become quite agitated before he’d left, frantic as she continued to whisper about secrets and lies.

Sassy had finally come out of her room to deal with the older woman. She’d given Eunice a mild sedative and by the time Trey had left, Eunice had fallen asleep in her chair.

Sassy had assured him that she’d be fine, but as Trey drove to the Winston Estate, he couldn’t help the worry that had been with him since the visit the night before.

He’d always been close to his Adair grandparents and had mourned deeply when Walt had died. Now he was both concerned and confused about his grandmother and after meeting with Debra he intended to speak to his mother about the issue.

The front door of the estate was opened by housekeeper Maddie, who always greeted him as if it had been months since she’d seen him. “And aren’t you looking just fine today,” she said as she took his coat from him. “You know I’ve always liked you in a nice blue suit, it makes those eyes of yours downright beautiful.”

Trey laughed. “You’ve been charming me since I was a baby, Maddie, and the years haven’t changed anything a bit. I’m assuming Debra is in?”

“Holed up in that little office of hers as usual.”

“Would you tell her that I’m here and that I’ll meet her in the sitting room?”

“I’d be happy to. Tea or coffee? Maybe a plate of cookies?” she asked, knowing his weakness for sweets.

“Coffee and what kind of cookies?” he asked.

She smiled at him slyly. “Does it really matter?”

He laughed. “No, it doesn’t, not as long as Myra baked them. Okay, a couple of cookies would be good.” He was still smiling as he entered the informal sitting room where the afternoon sun flooded through the floor to ceiling windows at one end.

The weather system that had brought the little bit of icing the night before had moved on, leaving behind blue skies and sunshine.

Trey sank into one of two beige easy chairs in front of the windows, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his back. Within seconds Myra entered the room, carrying with her a tray that held a small coffeepot, two cups and a plate of oatmeal-raisin cookies he knew would be soft and gooey, just the way he liked them.

“Thanks, Myra,” he told the cook, who nodded and then left him alone in the room.

He poured the coffee into the two cups and thought about having coffee in Debra’s townhome the night before. She was bright and sweet and easy to be around. Last night as he’d sat in her kitchen he’d felt more relaxed than he had in months and he thought it had not been just the cozy surroundings, but also her company.

She didn’t seem to have one high-maintenance bone in her body. He found her blushes charming and the fact that she cooked something special and new just to please herself each Sunday intriguing.

He had nearly destroyed the nice interaction between them by attempting to bring up the night they had spent together, but she’d made it clear that she didn’t want to discuss it and was more than a bit embarrassed by the whole affair.

He should feel embarrassed about it, too. Still, he couldn’t help but admit that he was looking forward to seeing her again. He tried to tell himself that it had nothing to do with any feelings he might have for her. Granted, he’d more than enjoyed his one night with her, but he knew where his duty, where his future lay and it definitely wasn’t with Debra.

The subject of his thoughts entered the room. Clad in a pair of tailored black slacks and a white blouse, she looked all business as she offered him a curt smile.

“I had Myra bring in some cookies and coffee,” he said as she sat in the chair next to him. “It’s been my experience that every important decision should be made over a good cookie.”

She smiled and set a handful of papers on the coffee table next to the silver tray of refreshments. “No cookies for me, and no coffee. I’ve been trying to cut down on my caffeine.”

As always whenever she was around he was aware of the scent of her, that fresh, clean fragrance that stirred something deep inside him. What kind of perfume did Cecily wear? For the life of him he couldn’t seem to bring it to his mind whenever Debra was close to him.

“So, what have we got?” he asked, slightly irritated with himself and the crazy tug of attraction he felt for a woman who had no place in his future plans.

She leaned forward and grabbed the small stack of papers. “Stacy sent me these this morning. The first three are various floor plans, including an area for an orchestra and dance floor and the table arrangements.” She handed them to him.

He tried to focus on the papers in his hands and not on how the brilliant sunshine streaming through the window made her light brown hair sparkle as if lit by a thousand fireflies.

She got up from her chair and moved to the back of his where she could lean over to see which plan he was looking at. “Do you want to hear my thoughts about each one?” she asked hesitantly.

“Absolutely. You’re the expert at these kinds of things.”

She leaned closer, so close that if he turned his head he’d be able to place his lips on the long length of her graceful neck. He narrowed his eyes and stared at the piece of paper on top.

“I don’t like this one because she’s got the orchestra and dance floor both on the same side, which makes the room look uneven and off-balance,” she explained.

He cast her a quick sideways glance and noted the long length of her sable eyelashes, the skin that looked bare and beautiful and like smooth porcelain. His fingers tingled as he remembered stroking that skin.

“This is the plan I think works much better,” she said, leaning farther over him to take the papers from his hand and shuffle them around.

He stared back down again, wondering what in the hell was wrong with him. Tonight he had a date with Cecily, the woman who was the front-runner to be by his side for the rest of his life and yet all he could think about at the moment was the soft press of Debra’s breasts against his back as she leaned over him, the sweet fresh scent that eddied in the air whenever she was near.

“See how the orchestra is on the left side, but the dance floor is in the center, right in front of the head table? The tables all seat eight and that means with a head table of eight and two hundred and fifty guests we’ll need thirty-one tables.”

“This looks fine to me,” he replied and released a small sigh of relief as she straightened up, returned to her chair and gave him a little breathing room from her.

“I figured you, Cecily, your mother, your brother Sam, the governor and his wife, Thad and his guest would comprise the people at the head table,” she said.

“Thad won’t come.” Trey thought of his youngest brother. “There’s no point in even inviting him. He has his own life and has no interest in this.” He fought back a touch of hurt as he thought of the distance between himself and Thad that had grown bigger and deeper with each year that passed.

“Then we’ll put the mayor and his wife at the head table,” Debra replied. “They probably should be there anyway.”

Trey nodded, still attempting to regain control of the swift desire that had momentarily taken ahold of him with her nearness.

“This is the invitation I thought would be nice.” She handed him a black-and-white invitation, bold and slightly masculine. “If you approve it I’ve got the printers standing by and I can have them in the mail by tomorrow morning.”