Maybe Married. Leigh Michaels
Читать онлайн книгу.
career, by listing the possible reasons why Zeke wasn’t there. First and most likely, Zeke had accepted the invitation and then completely forgotten the time and even the day. Or perhaps he had actually not accepted the invitation at all, but Barclay thought he had. The same way he thinks I’ve accepted his proposal, Dana thought. Or, possibly, Zeke had never intended to show up—though he wasn’t habitually rude. At least, he hadn’t been when….
But she wasn’t going to think about that.
That’s over, she reminded herself. Done with. Finished.
Just as the alumnus was reaching the climactic play of the game he was describing, gesturing wildly as he demonstrated the gymnastics required to cross the goal line, the chatter of the crowd dropped by a good ten decibels. Sensitive to the atmosphere of the party, Dana let her gaze sweep across the room, seeking out the cause of the sudden comparative silence.
Not that it required much effort. Her attention, like that of every other person in the room, was drawn as if by a magnet to a man standing in the arched doorway between the drawing room and the entrance hall. He was tall and lean, dressed in a silvery-gray business suit, and he stood perfectly at ease as he surveyed the room. His face was shadowed by the deep arch, but the light of the chandelier behind him fell warmly across his black hair, almost crowning him with its golden glow.
Like he’s wearing a halo, Dana thought grimly. I’ve never seen a better example of false advertising.
She surveyed the perfect tailoring of his suit with interest and had to admit a wisp of relief that he hadn’t shown up in blue jeans and a flannel shirt. Not that it mattered to her what he wore, she added hastily. Or how he presented himself to a crowd.
Barclay had hurried toward him, beaming, his hand extended. “Mr. Ferris,” he exclaimed. “How kind of you to honor us with your presence tonight. I hope your business meetings went well today.”
Zeke stepped forward. The halo vanished as the soft light of the drawing room fell across his face. “Call me Zeke,” Dana heard him say.
The alumnus cleared his throat, and she turned hastily back to him. “And that was the play which won the game?”
But the man wasn’t looking at her. He was staring at Zeke. “What’s so important about that young fella?” he demanded. “President’s hardly said a word to me all evening, but he falls all over him. Has he given a lot of money to the university, or something?”
“Not yet,” Dana said.
“Oh, I see. Howell’s trying to put the squeeze on him. Well, I suppose there’s never enough money.”
A man on Dana’s other side, a member of the university’s board of directors, said, “You can say that again. We need a new stadium, for one thing.”
Dana started to say that the last thing Zeke Ferris was likely to give the university was a sports stadium, but she stopped herself just in time. How could she know that, anyway? People changed—the Zeke Ferris she had known certainly hadn’t been the perfectly-tailored business suit type. “And we could use a new conference center,” she pointed out.
“Oh, well, I suppose if you’re interested in that sort of thing,” one of the men conceded.
She left the two of them discussing the university’s sports program and excused herself. But the party seemed to be taking care of itself at the moment; no one was standing alone, no one was looking forlorn, and no one seemed to be plunging into an argument. When a waiter passed, she swapped her sparkling water for a glass of champagne, and as she turned away she came face-to-face with Zeke Ferris.
She looked past him and saw that the alumnus who had told her all about the game he’d won had buttonholed Barclay as he crossed the room and was drawing him off into a corner. Even Barclay’s celebrated people skills might not get him out of that conversation in a hurry, she thought.
She’d almost forgotten how tall Zeke was. Even in her highest heels she’d always had to look up at him. Today, in the comfortable flats she habitually wore when she was in charge of a party, she seemed to look a very long way up into eyes bright as sapphires and filled with speculation.
“Dana,” he said softly. “Now this is a surprise.”
He had not said, she noted, that it was a pleasant surprise. And you can multiply that reaction times two, she thought. But she smiled and put out her hand. “Zeke.”
His grip was warm and firm, and he continued to hold her hand. “It’s been a long time.”
Not long enough.
He looked around the room and then back at her. “So what are you doing here?” he asked. “Are you faculty? Staff? Or are you finally going after that graduate degree you wanted so badly?”
“Staff,” she said coolly, and tugged her hand away. He let her fingers slip slowly out of his. She could feel her hands trembling, so she folded both of them around her cold glass to hide the telltale tremor. “I hope you’ll enjoy your visit here, Zeke. May I get you a drink?”
She watched a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. He might as well have said it, she thought, for it was quite clear what he was thinking. So that’s the way you’re going to play it.
“When you said you were staff,” Zeke murmured, “I thought you meant something administrative. It didn’t occur to me you might be just a waitress.”
Dana gritted her teeth. He’s trying to jab you into making a scene, she told herself.
Behind her, Barclay said smoothly, “I’m sure you misunderstood, Zeke.”
Dana had no trouble interpreting his tone of voice. No matter what a prospective donor said, it wasn’t to be taken as an insult—it was merely a misunderstanding.
“This is Dana Mulholland,” Barclay went on. “She’s not a waitress, she manages all the conferences and special events that the university hosts, and she’s been filling in at Baron’s Hill as well. In fact—”
Dana stepped quickly into the gap. “When we finish raising the money to build a new conference center, I’ll be in charge of it.”
“That’s not what I meant, my dear, but I know you’re right. Since it’s not quite official yet, I probably shouldn’t say anything at all. But it’s so hard to keep such happy news a secret.” Barclay’s tone was confidential, almost intimate.
Zeke’s eyes had narrowed, and only then did Dana realize that Barclay had draped an arm around her shoulders. She tried to shrug it off.
Barclay’s grip tightened. “I’ve asked Dana to marry me.”
Dana wanted to stuff her fingers in her ears on the theory that if she couldn’t hear what was going on, then it wasn’t really happening.
A member of the board of directors, standing nearby, cocked his head to one side. “Did I hear you right, Howell?” he asked. “You’re marrying Dana?”
“I wasn’t actually going to announce it just yet,” Barclay began.
He’s keeping his options open, Dana deduced. But the director didn’t pause. “Capital idea. I don’t mind telling you there was some hesitation on the part of the board when we hired you. We wondered if putting a young man, a bachelor, in that position was just asking for trouble. But marrying Dana—now that’s sensible. Like you’re taking the university to your bosom, eh? Making it your own.” He chortled at his own wit.
Dana’s face felt hot. Say something, she ordered herself. Deny it—and fast.
But that would mean contradicting Barclay in public and mortifying him in front of directors and alumni and faculty. Not that he didn’t deserve it—but if nothing else, self-preservation suggested she keep quiet for the moment and deal with the proposal later, when she could be alone with Barclay. Embarrassing the president of the university wasn’t the best way to improve her job security.
And