After Hours

“Oh, just a bit,” Gay murmured, rolling her eyes comically at the understatement.

Angie joined in the ripple of laughter. “All right, a lot intimidating,” she clarified. “But he’s not, really. He’s just…” She hesitated, trying to decide how to describe Rhys to people who’d never seen the softer, more vulnerable side of him. People who didn’t know about a little boy who’d been left alone at night, who’d been abandoned and then neglected, who’d been sent to fight a war when he should have been dancing in the mud at Woodstock, who needed love so desperately that Angie couldn’t resist him, no matter how cautious she’d tried to be.

“He’s a little shy,” she said at last, realizing for the first time that he was, indeed, rather shy. Afraid of being rejected. Defensive about his lack of family and formal education. Wary of lowering the barriers that

had protected him in the past.

“Shy?” Gay repeated incredulously. “Mr. Wakefield?”

Darla shook her head. “Now that’s an adjective I never would have applied to the boss.”

Her hands lifting in a gesture of frustration, Angie made a wry face. “I know it’s hard to believe, but you’d have to know him better to understand.”

“And we can’t get to know him better, because he doesn’t let anyone get that friendly with him,” Gay commented.

“I’m working on him,” Angie promised.

“He did smile at me and say good morning yesterday when I passed him in the hall,” Priscilla murmured cautiously. “It scared me so much I nearly dropped a whole armful of correspondence. I’d never seen him smile before.”

Chuckling, Angie pushed her chair away from the table. “He has a gorgeous smile,” she couldn’t resist saying. “I’m trying to get him to use it more often.”

Eyes widening, Gay caught Angie’s wrist. “You’re in love with the guy, aren’t you?” she asked with characteristic tactlessness.

“Yes, I am,” Angie replied gently.

“And he—?”

He still hadn’t told her he loved her, Angie thought, biting her lip. “I’m working on that, too.”

He loved her, she was sure. He had to love her. Perhaps someday he’d feel secure and comfortable enough to tell her. She hoped it would be soon. She’d discovered that she needed to hear the words as badly as he seemed to need to hear them from her.

Gay, Darla and Priscilla exchanged quick, concerned glances, then turned carefully reassuring smiles to Angie. “Of course he loves you,” Darla said bracingly. “He’d be a fool not to.”

Touched, Angie smiled. “Thanks. But I’d better get back to work now. Being engaged to him won’t keep him from expressing extreme displeasure if he decides I’m goofing off on the job.”

Still smiling, she turned and hurried away. She hadn’t quite gotten out of range when Priscilla spoke to the other two, obviously unaware that Angie could still hear. “I sure hope she knows what she’s doing. I’d hate to see her get hurt.”

I know the feeling, Priscilla, Angie thought fervently. Oh, yes, I do know the feeling.

IMMERSED IN DETAILS for the production changes that would go into effect on Monday, Rhys worked late that evening. Angie stayed with him until he noticed that she was almost trembling with exhaustion. Then he ordered her to go home. She protested, saying he had to be as tired as she, but he stood firm, promising he’d only be a few minutes behind her.

“I’ll go on to my place tonight,” he said reluctantly. “That way I won’t wake you when I come in. Get some sleep tonight. Next week’s going to be a killer. And tomorrow,” he added with a faint smile, “we’re going ring shopping. I’m getting impatient to publicly stake my claim.”

She made a face at the chauvinistic remark. He knew she’d have been more energetic about it if she hadn’t been so tired. “You’ve already got everyone in the company talking about it,” she told him with an attempt at sternness. “You should have known when you told June that you might as well have made a general announcement.”

He grinned without a trace of shame. “I knew,” he said simply. June could be implicitly trusted with business details, but she had a well-known weakness for gossip. Rhys had been fully aware of that weakness when he’d told her that he and Angie were to be married. There’d be no more engineers trying to manipulate their way into her bed, he thought in smug satisfaction. “Go home, Angelique. I’ll pick you up in the morning, around ten.”

Sighing, she picked up her purse and stood on tiptoe to kiss him. “Good night, Rhys. Don’t stay too long, okay? You need to rest. And drive carefully. I worry about you when you’re on the street so late and so tired.”

He loved it when she fussed over him. He could quickly become spoiled to the novel treatment. “I’ll be careful,” he promised.

It was more than an hour later before Rhys made himself put everything away and follow Angie out of the now-deserted building. He thought longingly of her as he drove from the parking lot, headed for home. How he’d love to be in bed with her now, holding her against him as they slept. She was going to have to set the wedding date soon, he told himself on a surge of determination. Whatever lingering fears were causing her to hesitate would have to be resolved soon. He had no intention of spending many more nights alone.

Following the habit he’d developed during the past months, he drove the mile or so out of his way to pass her house on his way home. It must be exhaustion making him particularly uneasy tonight, he thought wearily. Pleased that she was getting some sleep, he noted that all her lights were out except for the one living room lamp she always left on when she was home alone. Not because she was afraid of the dark, she’d assured him earnestly when he’d teased her about it, but because she didn’t want to bump into the furniture if she needed a drink of water in the middle of the night. He’d generously accepted her explanation without pointing out that she didn’t bother to leave it on when he spent the night there.

Strongly tempted to pull into her driveway and risk an attempt to join her in the bed without disturbing her, he slowed as he approached. No, he thought reluctantly, he’d let her sleep. He’d be seeing her in a few hours, after all. They were going to buy the ring that would mark her as his. All his. For life. Whether he deserved her or not.

He’d never understand the premonition that kept him from driving on. His eyes narrowed intently on the aging frame structure, his throat tightening in a sudden grip of misgiving, he told himself he was being foolish. Obviously there was nothing wrong. He just didn’t want to drive past.