Love Me Tonight. Gwynne Forster
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“How’s that?” Judson asked.
“I’ve got a malpractice suit, and I had planned to call you, but meeting you through a mutual friend suits me better.”
Judson handed Curtis Heywood his card. “Thank you. I’ll be in my law office Monday morning.” He couldn’t spend more time with the man because Scott nudged him on.
He saw her from a distance. If she wasn’t the woman Scott intended to introduce him to, too bad. The closer he got to her, the more certain he was that he wanted to meet her. But with her looks, he couldn’t see how she would be unattached.
When he and Scott were about ten feet from the woman, Judson drew in a deep breath. For the first time since his college days at Harvard, he felt himself vulnerable to a woman. She turned in his direction and glanced directly at him. Her large brown eyes, shaded by long, silky lashes that fanned against her cheeks, seemed to calculate everything about him in that brief look. She focused quickly on the two men who had been standing in front of her.
Scott tapped his hand on the woman’s shoulder and said to the two men with whom she’d been talking, “Excuse me, Pat, Orson,” and stood between them and the woman. “Heather, I want you to meet my very best and oldest friend, Judson Philips. Judson, this is Heather Tatum, one of my colleagues. Heather is a lawyer, the same as you, Judson, except that she’s also a special envoy with the State Department.”
“I’m delighted to meet you, Ms. Tatum,” he said, letting charm supersede his nervousness. “Scott hasn’t told me any more about you than what he just said, and I suspect there’s much more. Would you explain for me what a roving ambassador does?”
“I’m glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Philips. Scott hasn’t told me anything about you either, but I read the papers. I’ve also seen you on television.” A smile softened her dazzling features and seemed to make her flawless dark brown skin glow. “As for being a roving diplomat, that only means that I do odd jobs in foreign countries at the behest of the president and the secretary of state. My father calls me a diplomatic gofer.” The latter brought laughter from the three of them.
“I had to drag Judson out here,” Scott said. “He lost his mother very recently, and he isn’t crazy about big social gatherings anyway, so I’m flattered that he’s here.”
“I’m sorry about your mother, Mr. Philips. How recently did she pass?”
“Eleven days ago. Thanks for your kindness.” He didn’t want to stand there staring at her like a love-struck school boy. He looked at Scott, who seemed overly satisfied with himself. “What time is your dad supposed to make that champagne toast?”
“Probably as soon as Mom is sure everybody has seen her dress.”
Heather looked at Judson. “Do you think he’s serious?”
“I certainly hope not. Aunt Ada is what you’d call a woman of substance. She is by no means frivolous.”
“Excuse me a minute,” Scott said and disappeared.
“Scott got me by the arm and told me he wanted me to meet a colleague,” Judson said to Heather. “I saw you before we got to the middle of the room, and I decided that if he wasn’t going to introduce me to you, I didn’t want to meet whoever else he had in mind.”
“Thank you. Where did you go to law school?” she asked him, changing the subject. “Harvard.”
Her grin and the wicked glint in her eyes gave him cause to exercise self-control. “What’s amusing?” he asked her.
“We could never enjoy a Harvard-Yale game together.”
“Say no more.”
“You bet,” she said, still grinning. “We lead 62–58. The eight ties don’t count. I assume you played quarterback.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Why do you assume that?”
“Because you look like one. Quarterbacks lead the team, and most of them are type-A personalities.”
“I’m not sure I should thank you,” he teased.
Their repartee ended when Scott’s father stood and gave the toast. After the toast Scott rejoined them. “Being the oldest of three and the only boy carries much responsibility,” Scott explained sarcastically. “At least that’s what my parents have been trying to make me believe for thirty years. You’re lucky that you were an only child,” Scott said to Judson.
“I was lucky to be anybody’s child,” he said, but Heather’s puzzled expression made him wish he hadn’t uttered the thought aloud.
As the evening wound down, Heather seemed ready to leave.
“May I take you home?” Judson asked, anticipating her mood.
“Thank you,” she said, “but I’m leaving tomorrow for Egypt, and I don’t have much time. I’ve enjoyed meeting you. Good night.”
Judson was admittedly a bit stunned. Wealthy, successful, handsome and a heart-stopper at thirty-four years of age, he was unaccustomed to rejection by anyone.
He stared at Heather’s departing back. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
Scott rushed up to Judson. “What happened? Aren’t you taking her home?”
“It appears she’s very busy.”
Scott’s face contorted into a frown. “Didn’t you two get along?”
“I thought we did, but she blew me off.” He lifted first one shoulder and then the other in a shrug. “Looks like I’m losing my edge.”
Judson allowed himself a rueful smile. “Not to worry, buddy. She made a dent, not a chasm.”
Scott looked into the distance. He’d known Judson since they were five years old. “Yeah,” he said, mostly to himself. “If you say so.”
Heather Tatum forced herself to walk out of the Americana Ballroom without looking back. She was not immune to Judson Philips’s charm. Quite the contrary. But she had her own agenda, and he was not part of it. After years of study and long hours of work at the State Department, she had just begun to reach her goal of rising in the foreign service to become an ambassador, and she did not intend to be sidetracked by a charismatic, handsome, perfect specimen of a man.
Lord, but he’s gorgeous, she thought to herself as she got into the waiting limousine, one of the few perks that came with her job. The evening had been fun. Indeed, Scott Galloway knew how to give a party. She’d liked his friend. Judson Philips had a masculine aura that set him apart. He knew who he was and exuded confidence.
“I’m going home, Garth,” she said to the driver, leaned back in the soft leather seat and told herself to get her mind on something other than Philips.
She took out her cell phone and telephoned the woman who cared for her father at the family home in Hagerstown, Maryland. “How’s he doing, Annie?” she asked the housekeeper who doubled as her father’s caretaker. “He didn’t seem to be in a good mood when I talked to him this afternoon.”
“He’s in a better mood. He even watched the baseball game until the Red Sox started knocking home runs. Don’t you worry, Heather. You know I take good care of your father.”
Heather smiled to herself. Annie had worked for the Tatum family since Heather was ten years old and had remained with them after Heather’s mother had run off. She’d often wished her father would have married Annie, who clearly adored him.
“I know you do,” she said. “I have a morning flight to Cairo, but I’ll see you when I get back.”
“I’ll be here.”
She hung up and began mentally sorting out last-minute details for her trip. She didn’t believe in leaving anything to chance.
Heather