Drive Me Wild

He felt protective toward Gina, and he had to get over it. Feeling for her would interfere with his performance as her employee and with his professionalism as a journalist. He needed to be totally objective.

Ordinarily, on a balmy Sunday afternoon when he didn’t feel like working, he’d take his bike over to Central Park, or ride or walk along Riverside Drive. But being alone didn’t appeal to him right then. He phoned Craig, his younger brother.

“Hi. This is Justin. If you don’t have a date, how about dinner somewhere?”

“Hi. I had a date, but she came down with a cold, and I have these two tickets to the Met. Feel like seeing Madama Butterfly?”

Justin thought for a minute. “Why not? It’s been a while since I went to the opera. Want to eat at Hanks? Say, around six-thirty? I’ll call and make a reservation.”

“Fine. I’ll see you there. Uh…anything wrong? I mean…You seem kinda down.”

“Don’t worry about it. Resilience is my middle name. Remember? See you later.” He had to decide how much to tell his brother. Craig wouldn’t repeat anything he told him, but he didn’t have a clear picture of what was bothering him.

As the first born of two university professors, much had been expected of Justin Whitehead. And he had delivered plenty. An honor graduate from Yale University, Justin distinguished himself as an investigative reporter early. Now, at thirty-seven, Justin was in a position to call his shots. Though a salaried newspaper reporter, he enjoyed the status of a syndicated columnist whose work appeared regularly in newspapers and magazines under the by-line, J. L. Whitehead. Justin attributed his success and fame to his habit of “living” in the situations about which he wrote.

Over the past couple of years, Justin had followed the story of a thirty-one-year-old woman who won a lottery for eleven million dollars and died four years later. The notion that sudden wealth changed a person’s lifestyle, and not always positively, intrigued Justin. After weeks of interviewing relatives, friends and acquaintances of people who had become suddenly rich, he decided to get to know one. He saw Gina’s ad for a chauffeur—placed in the Daily News and not The New York Times as one would have expected—and, after investigating, he learned of her recent inheritance and applied for the job.

For the first time in his career as a journalist, Justin had a tinge of guilt about not revealing to Gina who he really was and why he took the job as her driver. His guilt stemmed from a suspicion that he would not walk away from their relationship unscathed. He was beginning to think that his deception would bring pain to both of them. Had he known what she would be like, he doubted he would have taken the job.

He walked into Hank’s restaurant at precisely six-thirty and Craig rose to greet him as he approached the table. They hugged and then sat.

“I don’t think I’ll have a drink,” Craig said, “because I don’t want to go to sleep during the show.” He looked at the waiter. “Just bring us the dinner menu, please.” Craig knew that Justin rarely drank and never before going to a performance of any kind.

“What’s up?” Craig asked him. “Spoken with Mom and Dad lately?”

“Yeah. You know I call them at least once a week. Mom would freak out if I didn’t. She said something about Lynn falling in love. Geez, I hope not.”

“Why not. She’s twenty-eight,” Craig said.

“I don’t feel like sweating through it. When Lynn fell in love before, she had the whole family in turmoil.”

“That’s because the guy was a jerk, and everybody but Lynn knew it.”

After they placed their orders, Craig—a man who never procrastinated—leaned back and looked at his older brother, his friend and idol. “How are things with you, Justin? I sense that something’s amiss. Can you share it? Is it a woman?”

“In a way, I suppose it is. Keep this in strictest confidence. The only other person who knows about it is Mel Scott, my editor, and he doesn’t know the woman’s name.”

Craig leaned forward with his piercing gaze on Justin’s face. “I’m listening.”

Justin related to Craig details of his latest project. “I go undercover all the time, Craig. This time, I’m using my real name. So far, she hasn’t associated me with J. L. Whitehead the reporter, and I’m praying she doesn’t.”

“Maybe she won’t. So what’s the problem?”

“The problem is that I hadn’t counted on the type of woman she is. Honest, gracious, respectful. Man, she’s soft, feminine and intelligent. She’s just plain nice,” Justin said.

“Good-looking?”

“Absolutely, and she’s in over her head. She has no idea of the benefits of being rich, and she snapped at me for addressing her as ma’am. Said she was getting tired of it.”

“She wouldn’t be tired of it if you looked and acted like a chauffeur is supposed to look and act. Do you wear a uniform?”

Justin laughed. “When I asked about that, she said I should just be neat. So when I took her shopping for a car, I…”

“You took her shopping in your Jaguar?”

“Real funny. I called a limousine company and got us a car and driver. As I was saying, when I went with her to choose a car—she picked a Town Car—I wore a suit, shirt and tie,” Justin said.

“So far, the problem I see is deception, and I imagine that doesn’t sit well with you, but why has it depressed you?”

“Beats me. She’s uh…I uh…She’s got a hook in me, and I’d swear it’s mutual.” Both of Craig’s eyebrows shot up and his lower lip dropped.

“That’s right,” Justin went on, “and I feel protective toward her. How’m I going to keep my hands off her, and what the hell do I do when she asks me to chauffeur her and her dates? I’ve taken six months from the office, though not from the paper, so I can complete this project. Mel’s expecting what amounts to a treatise on the subject of the suddenly nouveaux riches. I’m not used to defeat, but I feel like walking away from this thing.”

Craig nodded. “I see what you mean. You’re feeling guilty, because you’re attracted to her.”

Justin tapped the table lightly with the tips of his fingers. “That’s it in a nutshell,” he said.

“Look. Do your best to minimize the damage to her. I wouldn’t encourage her feelings. You know what I mean.”

“Craig, I felt the chemistry between us from the moment I walked into her office. That’s when I should have walked out, but I was too shocked to think straight.”

“Yipes. I’m afraid you’re in for it no matter what you do. What was her job before she came into all that money?”

“She was an accountant, and she has an MBA from New York University. I’m not sure how much she inherited, but I went down to the probate office and learned that the terms of the will stipulate that she live like a wealthy woman. I couldn’t read the entire document. I’ve a friend who works there and who let me see it, but he could only give me two minutes with it. I found out that she inherited from a very rich white woman.”

“Mom’s going to faint when she finds out what’s going on with you. Just imagine one of her children working as a chauffeur.”

Justin joined Craig in a good laugh. Their mother wanted all of her children to become university professors, but the three of them had chosen other careers—journalist, investment banker and linguist-interpreter.

“Tell me about it,” Justin said. “And she’ll never like Gina, because—”

“Gina, huh? That’s her name?”

“Yeah. And it suits her,” Justin said.

“Am I ever going to meet her?”

“If, after this story goes to press, all is right with the world, you may.”

“Well, do what you can to keep it between the lines,” Craig said in a tone that suggested he didn’t hold out much hope.

“That’s a tall order, brother.”

Justin had no way of knowing that, at the moment, Gina was searching for an excuse to call him. After some thought, she told herself that she’d better hire an office assistant. Perhaps if she had two employees, she wouldn’t concentrate on Justin. She arrived at her office just before nine o’clock on Monday and Justin arrived shortly thereafter.

“I figured that, while we’re waiting for the car, you might need me for something else,” he said into the heavy silence.

“I need some decent office furniture. This furniture came with the space and it’s really boring. If I’m going to be fund-raising, I’ll need a more updated look. I also want the place to look like me.”

“Some people rent office furniture, but if you want individualized surroundings, you have to buy. If you’d like, I can find you a couple of places that sell first-quality furnishings.”

A smile lit up her face, and for a few seconds, he struggled to hide his reaction to her. “That’s wonderful, Justin. Why don’t you use that desk over there? I’ll be right back.”

Among other things, the office needed a kitchen, or at least a pantry in which she could hide a coffee maker and a small refrigerator. She took the elevator to the street floor and dashed down the block to the coffee shop, bought two large cups of coffee and three cranberry scones. She got back in the office just in time to hear Justin say, “I’ll give her your message, Mr. Strags.”

“Strags called. He seemed annoyed that you weren’t here.”

She put the bag on her desk. “A lot of things annoy Miles. He’s the executor of my friend’s estate, and he thinks he controls me. Nobody I ever knew could lay claim to that. I got us some coffee.” She took the coffee and scones out of the bag, placed a couple of napkins where a tablecloth would have been and said, “I noticed you like milk and sugar in yours. I only use milk.”

She didn’t understand his frown, so she said, “It’s all right if you don’t want it. I couldn’t drink mine without knowing you had some if you wanted it.”

“I would gladly have gone out and brought coffee for you. Why didn’t you ask me?”

She lifted her right shoulder in a quick shrug. “It didn’t occur to me to ask you. You were busy checking furniture stores.”

“I love coffee and scones,” he said. “Thank you. But next time, I’d be happy to get it.”

He sipped the coffee, and she could see that he really enjoyed it. “Did you eat breakfast?” she asked him.

“Yeah, if you call half a pint of yogurt and a cup of instant coffee breakfast. I can cook, but I don’t enjoy cooking breakfast.”

“I’ve just decided that we need a pantry large enough for a microwave oven, a small refrigerator, a coffee maker and some storage space. What do you think?”

He grinned. “I would definitely supply the coffee and the milk.”

She looked at him. Did he know what his smile did to a woman?

“We also need a way for you to account for your expenditures. You could keep a record of your expenditures, such as the costs of our car and driver on Saturday—which, incidentally, you haven’t given me—or you may have a credit card. Which would you prefer?”

“I’d rather have the expense account. It’s more than decent of you to offer me a credit card, and it would make my life simpler, but in my opinion, it would be unwise for you to give a man you don’t know a credit card.”

She stopped eating the scone, leaned back and looked him in the eye. “I am a good judge of character, Justin.”

“I have no reason to doubt that, ma’am, but why do you think so many congressmen and corporate CEOs wind up in jail?”

“Justin, there are times when I wonder why you’d work as a chauffeur.”

“Life happens, ma’am. We never know what we’ll wind up doing.”

“That’s true. If anybody had told me I’d be running a charitable organization in honor of my best friend, I wouldn’t have believed it.”

Justin waited until she drained her coffee cup and took it and his to the wastebasket. He flashed her a smile and headed back to the desk that sat about six feet from hers. “You’ll never know how that coffee and scone hit the spot. Let me get started on this search.” He reached for the yellow pages of the telephone book. “If you’re planning to get more computers, it may be a good idea to have an expert hook up a computer network that includes your computers, your faxes, scanners, printers and copiers.”

She looked up from her list of possible contributors to the foundation. Unlike Miles, Justin tried to help her without being condescending. His past employment must have exposed him to numerous learning situations. She wished she could ask him about his other jobs. She wanted to know everything about him. Everything.

Just then, Justin looked up and caught her ogling him. She quickly lowered her gaze. She hoped her face didn’t mirror what she’d been thinking.

She could feel the heat of his gaze and, as hard as she tried not to squirm, her body twisted in the chair. She couldn’t get up and walk out now, because that would be downright humiliating. Gina swallowed hard and resisted the temptation to cover her taut nipples. What was wrong with her, and why didn’t he stop looking at her? With as much defiance as she could muster, she looked straight at him. The man grinned, and she restrained an impulse to scream in frustration.

“You’ll be delighted at what I found,” he said, easing the tension. “There are two great stores within three blocks of each other. If we hail a taxi, we can check them out at lunch time. It shouldn’t take long.”

“I was just thinking of reorganizing this space. I need three offices, and I don’t need that conference room back there. I need a front office for an office assistant, and an office for you and one for me. I don’t expect you to sit in that car when you’re not driving. I want each office equipped with appropriate office machines, and that reception area out there should have comfortable seating, attractive lighting and a television. I think I should make the changes before we get the furniture.”

“Want me to check out a contractor to do the work? I think you’ll probably have to get a permit. I know a guy who can get you a permit today if you want it.” When she appeared skeptical, he said, “Don’t worry, ma’am. It will be perfectly legal. I wouldn’t mislead you.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t, Justin. Didn’t I tell you I’m a good judge of character? Please call your friend. I want to get this operation underway as soon as possible.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll get on that right now.”

Justin walked over to Park Avenue, flagged a taxi and settled back to contemplate all that had transpired that morning. He was rapidly concluding that Gina Harkness did not regard herself as a rich woman or, if she did, she didn’t plan to change her outlook on life. She went out in the street and bought coffee when she should have asked him to do it. She offered a man she’d seen twice a credit card. She was damned lucky to have hired him and not a swindler. The woman was way too trusting.

When he caught her ogling him, she’d almost lost her composure, but he had to hand it to her, the sistah could give lessons in cool behavior. She planned to give him an office, and he appreciated that. In fact, he needed it. But whoever heard of a personal chauffeur with a private office?

The taxi stopped at the address he’d given the driver. He paid, got a receipt and asked the man to wait for ten minutes, and in less time, he was back in the cab with an official permit enabling Gina to renovate her office space.

“You’re wonderful,” she said with a smile when he handed her the permit. “I don’t know how I’d get along without you. The manager of this building suggested a company for the renovations, and he’ll be here day after tomorrow. Gosh. I could never have gotten this far by myself.”

She talked on, but he was still at the point where she said she didn’t know what she’d do without him. “I’m flattered, ma’am. Thank you.”

When she narrowed her eyes, he suspected that she’d get down on him again about calling her ma’am, but whatever she intended went unsaid. The door opened and, without having knocked or rung the bell, a man who wore his tie too tightly knotted walked in.

“Who was the man who answered the phone while you were out? I can’t believe you went off and left your foundation to a stranger. You’re supposed to be—”

Justin looked at Gina. From her demeanor, he wouldn’t have been surprised to see smoke coming out of her ears. “Miles, what in hell do you mean by strolling in here and throwing your weight around. You have absolutely no authority to take me to task about anything. Who answers my phone is my business, and I want you to leave this minute.”

“You…you can’t speak to me that way.”

“Why can’t she?” Justin asked him.

Seeming to swell by the minute, Miles looked at Gina. “Who is this man? Is he the one who answered your phone?”

“This man is my chauffeur and my office assistant, not that it’s any of your business. Now, if you don’t mind, I have work to do,” Gina said as she saw Miles out.

“So he’s the executor of your friend’s estate. Something tells me he oversteps his authority,” Justin said.

“He tries to intimidate me, but that is not easily done. I suspect he thinks that Heddy should have left her estate to him, or at least to someone who’s white.”

“You may have a point,” Justin said. “But as far as the renovations go, remember that we pick up the car Wednesday, and that’s the day the builder comes. Did he say what time?”

“Ten o’clock. So we can pick up the car around two in the afternoon. This is perfect. I’m moving tomorrow, so we’ll be able to park in my building’s garage.”

She still hadn’t given him the building’s address, but he’d seen the address in the will. Of the chauffeurs working for residents in that building, he’d be the only one who didn’t wear a uniform. He’d bet anything on that. It occurred to him that he’d better buy a pair of glasses. In that building, he might be recognized.

He looked at his watch, saw that it was twelve-thirty and asked her, “What’s your policy about lunch? I’d like to find something to eat.”

When she didn’t answer, he saw that she was still angry and trying to control it. “Don’t let it get to you,” he said, and the minute he opened his mouth, her lips trembled as she fought back tears. “Please. He’s not worth getting upset about.” She turned her back to him and, man that he was, he rushed to her and drew her into his arms. He couldn’t help himself.

“It will be all right. We’ll find a way to stop him. Please, Gina, we’re in this together, and I won’t let him hurt you.” Soft and yielding, she snuggled to him as a lover would, and he wanted to squeeze her to him, to protect her and love her, but he didn’t dare.

“I…I’m sorry,” she murmured, but didn’t move out of his arms.

“I know. He was pretty rough, but you handled it well. Stay here. I’ll get you some water.” He stroked her shoulder, taking what he could get, before easing her away from him. When he returned from the water cooler, she was sitting at her desk with her head resting on her arms. He leaned over her and rested an arm across her shoulder.

“Do you feel like drinking this?”

Gina took the cup of water, drank it and put the empty cup in the wastebasket beside her desk. She didn’t look him in the eye, but found a spot past his shoulder and fastened her gaze on that. “He’s been harassing me ever since he read that will to me, and he’s becoming increasingly bold. Thanks for being so understanding.”

“Don’t mention it. If you’re all right, I’ll be back in an hour.”

He needed to get away from there. She’d nestled against him like a chick under its mother’s wing, or like a woman enjoying the protectiveness of her man. She felt as comfortable as if she’d been born in his arms. Soft. She was so soft and so feminine. True, she had a temper, but he didn’t mind that. He liked a woman with fire. If only he could keep his hands off her.

For nearly half an hour, Gina sat where Justin had left her. Her anger had subsided, but her fear that she might fall for her chauffeur had reached alarming proportions. Nobody had to tell her that he could be down on his luck, but if he wasn’t, he undersold himself and forfeited his potential. Some people only took what they needed from life and left the rest to the overachievers. He could be one of those. She shook her head. Maybe she would never understand him, and perhaps she shouldn’t try. But she had needed his gentleness and tenderness and hadn’t wanted to move out of his strong arms.

“I could love this man,” she said to herself. She remembered one of her auntie’s prayers: Lord, please don’t let me look at him with scales over my eyes. She heard the door open and busied herself with the papers on her desk.

He walked over to her desk. “What do you want to eat? I’ll be glad to get it for you.” And he meant it. In his present mood, he’d do anything for her so long as it was legal.

“You’re asking me to take advantage of you, Justin. You’re not a messenger or a gofer.”

“Forget about what I am. What do you want to eat? I can bring you a sandwich, a salad or a full-course meal.”

“All right. Surprise me.”

That sounded a little coquettish to him. “Other than coffee and scones, I don’t know what you like. Okay. What if I bring lasagna and a salad? What would you like to drink? Coffee?” She nodded, and he whirled around. “Be right back.”

Justin met Miles Strags just before he reached the elevator. Certain that the man had returned to harass Gina, he followed him back to Gina’s office.

“I think we’ve met before,” Miles said, with curled lips and a frown on his face.

“I’d remember if we had,” Justin said.

“I thought you were her chauffeur, not her bodyguard.”

Justin glared down at the man. “I’m both, so don’t bother trying to intimidate her unless you want to go out head first.” He opened the door. “After you, Mr. Strags.” He followed the man inside. “Mr. Strags forgot something, ma’am. He’ll tell you what it was.”

She sat up straight and laid back her shoulders. “What did you forget, Miles?”

Miles forced a smile. “I didn’t want any unpleasantness between us, so I came back to straighten things out. You know how fond I was of Heddy—” he cleared his throat “—and you, too, of course—and I don’t believe in letting misunderstandings simmer.”

Justin nearly laughed when she leaned back in her chair, made a pyramid of her fingers and narrowed her eyes. “What did I misunderstand?”

“I have your interest at heart, and I don’t think you realize that.”

“I know very well where your interests lie, Miles. Please excuse me, I have a lot of things to get through today.” She looked at Justin. “Would you please see him to the elevator?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Justin left the building with Miles Strags and walked as far as the corner with the man before Miles spoke. “If you’re after her money, forget it. It will never happen.” With those words, Miles strutted across the street barely missing being struck by a taxi.

Now we know where we stand. Miles Strags is after Gina and the Lloyd estate. Hmm. Knowledge is power, and I intend to learn everything possible about that obsequious bastard, including his rights as estate executor.

Justin strode down Madison Avenue until he reached an Italian restaurant operated by a man with whom he occasionally enjoyed a fencing match. The quaint restaurant reeked with the smell of seafood, garlic and tomato sauce. He’d always liked the simplicity of the red-and-white and green-and-white checkered tablecloths on tables that were hosts to Chianti bottles holding lighted candles.

“Where’s Tony?” he asked the waiter. “Tell him J.L. is here.”

Smiling broadly, the handsome restaurant owner approached Justin with open arms. “Hey, man. You’ve been scarce. What’s up?”

“I need a carry out. Lasagna, a nice mesclun salad and a small bottle of red wine.”

“You taking this to a woman, I gather.” Justin nodded. “Trust me, friend, I’ll make it nice for you.”

Meal in hand, Justin hurried back two blocks to Gina’s office. “Let’s see what we have here,” he said, eager to see delight in her eyes. He opened the package and found a large white napkin, a heavy, white, plastic plate and transparent plastic dinnerware. So far, so good. He opened the wine, poured a glass for her, said, “bon appetit” and went back to his desk.