Fools Rush In. Gwynne Forster

      The sound of Duncan’s footsteps as he loped up the stairs sent shivers from her armpits to her fingertips. His door closed and she let herself breathe. It had to work; this was the only way in which she could be with her child.

      The next morning, she got Tonya settled and began to organize her day around the child’s eating and sleeping schedules. She couldn’t have been happier that Duncan wasn’t around to disconcert her. She made a list of things she’d need—a child’s record player, records, blackboard, little musical instruments, crayons, drawing paper, and books for Tonya—and shoved the note under Duncan’s door. Then she called her editor.

      “Big Al speaking. What can I do for you, Justine?”

      She told him she preferred each column to have a general theme and answers to five letters. “I’ll mail my first one this afternoon.”

      “Right on. Think you could come in for a conference Wednesday morning? We wanna talk syndication. If I can swing it, you’ll make some money.”

      Money was not her first priority, but it wouldn’t pay to say so. “Mind if I bring my little charge?”

      “Sure, baby. Long as she’s quiet. Eleven o’clock.”

      “Sweetheart, the sight of you still gives a guy palpitations,” Al greeted Justine that Wednesday morning. “A nanny, huh? Well, honey, things are about to change. You won’t be doing that for long. Warren Stokes says he can syndicate you easy as that.” He snapped his long, thick fingers.

      Justine gaped at him. “Warren Stokes? Is he the Warren Stokes we knew at Howard U?”

      “That I am. Hello, Justine. Still beautiful, I see. And what a beautiful little girl you have there!”

      That couldn’t be regret she heard in his voice. “I’m her nanny.”

      His raised eyebrows and pursed lips didn’t surprise her. He’d have been less astonished to see her get out of a chauffeured Town Car. “Nanny, eh? I suppose you’ll explain that.”

      Their conference ended with Justine’s agreement to syndicate after six months if the public’s reception of her column warranted it.

      “Have lunch with me, Justine.”

      She shifted Tonya to her hip. “That may not be wise, Warren. Best not to revisit the past.”

      His gentle grasp of her left arm was her clue that the old Warren hadn’t changed. He still had the tenacity of an irritated bull. “I never married, because you have my heart. Always did and always will. We shouldn’t have let a stupid misunderstanding separate us. Is there anyone in your life right now? A husband?”

      She shook her head. “If we pursue this syndication deal, I suppose we’ll run into each other. It’s been nice seeing you again.”

      It didn’t surprise her that he wouldn’t be put off. “I’ll call you. You won’t get away from me this time.”

      Something began to roll like rough ocean waves in the pit of her stomach. Warren never let anything get between him and what he wanted. She liked him, but she hadn’t suffered when, in a fit of jealousy, he’d broken their friendship because she’d regarded him only as a friend. She didn’t want a romantic entanglement with him or anyone else, and especially not now when she was trying to put order into her life.

      She looked him in the eye. “Those were college days, and we were children. Let the past lie.”

      Tonya called “bye bye” to him as Justine walked away. The years could have whittled down Warren Stokes’s ego, but she doubted it. As students, they’d talked of their future and shared their dreams. She had admired his dogged pursuit of his goal, loved his hip-swaggering way of dancing, and enjoyed arguing against his conservative views, but she hadn’t wanted him as a man. This older Warren wasn’t the man to be a woman’s pal, and she didn’t want a lover. She didn’t intend to give Duncan an excuse to fire her. If necessary, she’d don a nun’s habit.

      Justine opened the front door and raced down the hall to answer the telephone. Mattie would let it ring indefinitely. No one had told her to identify Duncan’s home, so she picked up the phone and said, “Hello.” She couldn’t find her voice when the caller, a woman, wanted to know whether GDB was still looking for a wife. She seemed to panic at Justine’s dumbfounded silence, and an explanation of the notice in Dee Dee’s column spilled from her mouth. So he’d advertised for a wife. She couldn’t believe he’d need to resort to that. Unless…She promised the woman that she’d deliver the message.

      Perplexed, she asked Mattie to watch Tonya for a few minutes while she went to the nearest drug store. She bought a copy of The Maryland Journal and scanned it until she found Dee Dee’s column. Stunned, she threw the paper into a refuse bin and drove home. Why would he do such a thing?

      “I’m so sorry. The position has been filled,” she told the next caller.

      The woman’s disappointed, “Oh no. Oh no” didn’t give her a sense of guilt. If Duncan married, Tonya wouldn’t need a nanny, and she intended to be the woman who took care of her child. Besides, what kind of an environment would an arranged marriage be for a baby?

      She put Tonya to bed, ate a sandwich, and settled down to work. To the next four women callers who wanted to marry GDB, she responded, “The position has been filled,” reasoning that she hadn’t lied, since she hadn’t said which position was no longer open.

      Several weeks later, leaving the house, Duncan collided with Justine as she raced out of her bedroom to answer the hall telephone. He couldn’t have said when the phone stopped ringing, and he’d have sworn that she couldn’t either.

      “Sorry.”

      “I…I…Please, I didn’t see you. I hope I didn’t…”

      “No. No. I’m…I’m fine, but you must weigh a ton.”

      Still holding her, he managed to say, “Well, no. Only about a hundred and ninety-five. I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

      He told himself to take his hand off her, but his arms remained around her shoulders, and her soft, ample breast nestled against his chest. A stricken look spread over her face, and he realized that he had tightened his hold on her in an unmistakable caress.

      “Duncan…Please…I…”

      If her wide eyes hadn’t silently pleaded with him, he didn’t know how far he’d have gone. He doubted that he would have released her of his own will. It had been so long since he’d known the loving arms of a warm sweet woman wrapped tightly around him. So long since he’d floated out of himself in the hot haven of a woman’s welcoming body. He wasn’t fooled by her business-like manners, walking past him day after day with barely a smile on her face, always so damned civilized and courteous. If she’d behave a little more naturally with him, he’d believe he held no attraction for her. But she worked too hard at it, always making appoint of not being interested.

      “Duncan…”

      He realized he’d been staring into her eyes, looking for he didn’t know what. “You all right now?” he asked in an attempt to diffuse the situation.

      She nodded and rushed back into her room. Only then did he realize that she’d been dressed in a silk Japanese kimono. No wonder she’d gotten away from him as fast as possible.

      He got back into his room, closed the door, and leaned against it. That had been close. Too close, if he didn’t want to start anything with Justine—and he didn’t—he’d better let her go and get someone else to take care of Tonya. He slapped his left fist into the palm of his right hand until the sting of it stopped him. Shaking his head as though to admonish himself, he conceded that he couldn’t do that either. It wouldn’t be right. After a month, he didn’t have a single complaint against her, and he doubted Tonya would have been as happy in Marie’s care as she was with Justine. If he wanted his child