The Marrying Kind. Judy Christenberry

shook his head. Time to clear his mind from thoughts of Diane or his father. He needed to concentrate on business.

      He met Mark at a nearby restaurant. Over lunch they talked about sports and mutual acquaintances. John knew the drill. He wouldn’t talk about his project until they arrived back at Guaranty National Bank, the largest and most respected financial institution in the Dallas area.

      As he stepped into Mark Golan’s office, impeccably appointed to befit a VP, he began organizing his thoughts in his head. He didn’t want to make any mistakes in his presentation.

      An hour later, after his pitch, it was with relief that he heard the bank’s decision—approval of the loan he wanted to finance the work. He was surprised to find Diane returning to his thoughts almost immediately. How had she gotten such control over his mind?

      “John, you did a great presentation,” Mark said after the senior members had left his office. “You made us both look good.”

      “Glad to hear it. You’ve always been good to me, Mark. I wouldn’t want to let you down.”

      “It’s mutual. If I can ever do anything for you, just let me know.”

      “Well, there is something….” John tried to affect a casual attitude. “You pretty much know most of the banking community, don’t you?”

      “Sure. I’ve worked at a couple of different banks, plus we’re all members of a professional group. Are you looking for someone? I hope you’re not thinking of leaving me,” he joked.

      “No, of course not. But I met someone who said she was a VP in charge of investments. I figured she meant in a small bank. After all, I don’t think you have too many female bankers.”

      Mark’s eyebrows rose. “Careful, buddy. You sound way out of touch with today’s world if you think that way.”

      “Really? How many female bankers do you have?”

      “I believe we’re up to fourteen now, including a VP in charge of investments.”

      John froze. Then he cleared his throat. “Don’t tell me her name is Diane Black?”

      Chapter Two

      “How’d you know?” Mark sounded skeptical.

      “I, uh, recently met her and wanted to—to see her again.” Damn it, when was the last time he’d stuttered, talking about a woman? It must’ve been twenty years ago, when he was twelve and had a crush on Darlene Carey in the seventh grade.

      Mark looked upset. “Oh, no! You’re going to cost me my job. You keep away from Diane.”

      “What are you talking about?” John demanded.

      Though only thirty-four, Mark sounded every bit the wise old sage when he said, “John, you’re a great businessman, but you cut a wide swath through the women in Dallas. Even us staid bankers know how often you change girlfriends. And you never offer them marriage.”

      “No, I don’t. I’m not my father!”

      “I didn’t mean to imply you were, John. But don’t mess with Diane. She’s not your type and I don’t want her to get hurt.”

      “I’m not going to hurt her. I just want to visit with her for a few minutes. Surely you can’t object to that.”

      “Why?”

      “Why what?”

      “Why do you want to visit with her?”

      “If you must know, I was rude to her last night over a misunderstanding, and I owe her an apology.”

      “That’s all?”

      “Yeah, that’s all. Now, do I need a note from my mother to get to see her?” He figured Mark heard his sarcasm. John wasn’t trying to hide his displeasure.

      “Yeah, okay, but remember, you promised not to hurt her.”

      “I remember.”

      “Her office is on the third floor. Just follow the signs to the investment department.”

      “Thanks, I will.” John strode out of Mark’s office and headed directly for the elevator. When he got off on the third floor, he realized he was almost running. He stopped and drew a deep breath. No need to advertise his eagerness to see her. Instead he adopted a casual stroll down the hall.

      When he entered the investments area, he was greeted by a receptionist.

      “I’d like to see Diane Black,” he told her.

      “Ms. Black has someone with her right now, but you’re free to wait, Mr.…”

      “Davis. John Davis. And yes, I’ll wait.”

      He sat down on the sofa across from the receptionist’s desk and picked up a magazine from the coffee table. He flipped through it, paying little attention to the contents.

      His attention zeroed in, however, when he saw an elderly woman exit one of the bank offices and heard the receptionist on the intercom. “A Mr. Davis to see you.”

      Diane’s voice came back through the intercom, curt and clipped. “Please tell Mr. Davis he has the wrong department. Loans are on the first floor.”

      John started walking toward Diane’s office, despite the receptionist’s protests. “Sir, you can’t just walk in on Ms. Black. Sir—”

      By that time, he had opened the door to her office. “Will you tell that young woman to stop yelling at me?”

      Diane sent him an angry look, but pushed down the intercom button. “Wendy, it’s all right. I forgot that Mr. Davis needed to talk to me about something.”

      “What do I need to talk to you about?” he asked.

      “I have no idea, but I don’t want Wendy to feel she failed me.”

      “That’s very kind of you, Diane. And I’m trying to be kind, too.”

      “How are you doing that?”

      “I was rude and arrogant last night and I wanted to apologize to you.”

      “I see. Yes, that’s very kind of you. Thank you.”

      He continued to stand there, staring at her.

      “Is there anything else?”

      “You could ask me to sit down.”

      “Why?”

      Why did people keep asking him that question? He wondered. First Mark, now her.

      Before he could reply, Diane moved to the door. “I see no need for additional conversation, John, so perhaps it would be best if you leave.”

      He deliberately sat down. “Perhaps I should remind you that I do a lot of business with this bank.”

      “That’s not necessary, Mr. Davis. I’m well aware of your past history with my bank. I’ll be glad to refer you to whoever you need to talk to to be sure your needs are met.”

      “And what if you’re the one I need to see?”

      “For what reason?”

      “I told you. I needed to apologize to you.”

      “I appreciate that, but you’ve already done so.”

      “So you’re throwing me out?”

      “Mr. Davis, I’m pointing out—rightly, I think—that I’m at work. It is not a social situation. If you have something about my job that you need to discuss, so be it. But if not, then yes, I’m throwing you out.”

      “All right, I’ll go, on one condition.”

      “And what is that?”

      “Have dinner with