Beyond Daring

“That was dirty, underhanded and completely over the top,” he started out.

“You didn’t like it?” she asked, blinking twice.

“Don’t play that game with me, Sheldon. I know you.”

She gave him a slow smile. “Yes, yes, you do. I think the mayor was there. Did you see him in the back?”

“The mayor?” Jeff buried his face in his hands. “My career is shot to hell. Your father is going to fire me.”

She slapped him on the arm. “No, he won’t. The company’s stock has already shot up two points, and I think I saw a CNN crew in the crowd.”

He raised his head, and there was something new in his eyes that made her tingle all over. Respect. Sheldon saw it so rarely, she almost didn’t recognize it. His mouth pulled into a rueful smile, and she got more tingles. This time, the carnal kind.

“You know, when you’re upset, why don’t you say something?”

“I don’t get upset, Jeff. I get even.”

He shook his head and began to laugh.

“So you were surprised?” she asked.

“Not really.”

She put a hand on his bare arm, not necessarily to stroke his forearm, but, well, accidents happen. “Come on, admit it. You were surprised.”

“I was not.”

“Not even a little?” she asked, leaning forward, letting her jacket gape open. His eyes drifted down. Sheldon felt a flush that had nothing to do with the summer heat.

Under her fingers, she felt the tension in him, and she wished he would let go. “Put it away, Sheldon.”

She removed her arm, closed her jacket and crossed her arms across her chest. “Fine. What happened to your sister?”

“She went off to write. Inspiration like you doesn’t happen to her very often.”

Sheldon couldn’t keep her lips from curving up. “What can I say?”

He glared so quickly she changed the subject. “So, what’s next on the five-point plan?”

The glare in his eyes softened, and for a minute she felt that tug inside her. “You really hate that, don’t you, Sheldon?” he asked, his voice lingering on her name.

“No, what made you think that?”

His look said he knew the answer, but he didn’t call her on it. “Fine, let’s move on. The next one is easy. We go to a Mets game on Saturday afternoon.”

“You’ll come with me, then?” she asked, mulling the possibilities.

“You think I’d let you go by yourself?”

“Well, no, but I would like having you there.” It was the truth. Jeff was the first man to see through her. Most men couldn’t get past her veneer, but Jeff had veneers of his own.

“You’ll behave?”

She blinked. “Certainly. I’m a team player.”

THE NEXT MORNING, WHEN JEFF arrived at work, he knew there’d be hell to pay. Although he wasn’t prepared for it that early.

Phil greeted him with a jaunty wave. “Wayne Summerville will be here in ten minutes. I took the liberty of assembling the press clippings from your daytime excursion yesterday. USA Today. New York Times—I like what they did with the pixilation, very natural looking—and here’s a press release from the AFL-CIO. They were very happy with the publicity.” He took out another sheet of paper. “And the International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers, Local 47, wants to give Ms. Summerville a plaque for her efforts to advance their cause.”

Jeff glanced at the clippings and noticed one piece absent. “Was there anything in The Red Choo Diaries?”

“I didn’t see that in Google,” answered Phil, as he typed in some keys, and then brought up Mercedes’ Web site on his computer. “It’s a story on…oh, my,” he said, leaning into the screen. Finally, he looked up. “It’s not Miss Summerville unless she suddenly took a job as an intern at a brokerage house.”

“I can’t believe she didn’t print the pictures,” muttered Jeff. Mercedes? His sister? Actually practicing restraint? He’d have to thank her for that.

“Do you want me to print this story about the intern, sir? I should tell you that corporate policy forbids the use of the company computers for nefarious means. Page forty-three in the manual. Would you like to read it?”

Mercedes’ good deed notwithstanding, the articles about Sheldon were enough to cause a man serious pain. Jeff took a deep breath. “No, thank you, Phil. I’m going into my office now. Can you bring me some aspirin?”

In less than two minutes, Phil was in Jeff’s office, plopping two pills on the desk, along with a glass of water. “Extra-strength.” Then he propped himself on the corner of Jeff’s desk. “I really like that shirt. Where’d you get it?”

Jeff took the pills and downed them with water. “So you can go out and buy one just like it?”

“I was merely asking. Don’t get snippy.”

“I’m not snippy,” snapped Jeff.

Phil got up in a huff.

“Snippy,” he said, and then shut Jeff’s door behind him.

EIGHT MINUTES LATER—Jeff was counting—Wayne Summerville arrived, his beefy face flushed from the heat. “Morning, boy,” he said, settling himself in the chair opposite Jeff. “I suppose you’ve seen the papers.”

Jeff swallowed. “Yes.”

“Then I suppose you know why I’m here.”

“I can guess. However, I saw where Summerville Consumer Products stock rose two percent yesterday.”

Wayne didn’t look happy. “So, what are we going to do about this problem, Jeff?”

“We’re moving on to step two now. I’ve got tickets to the Mets game on Saturday afternoon. It’ll be good.”

Wayne steepled his fingers. “And do you think my daughter will be able to keep her clothes on for baseball?”

Jeff met Wayne’s gaze evenly. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something, sir. Are you sure that Sheldon’s all right with this marriage? Have you thought that this might not be what she wants?”

“Sure, this is what she wants. There’s only one thing that drives Sheldon, and that’s Sheldon.”