Taking Heart (Men on a Mission Book 3) Read online

  “No, my father named me.”

  “Ah. How romantic. You don’t look at all Spanish. More Celtic, like Queen Bodicea.”

  “Ahem!” I pretend to cough into my fist.

  George glances at me but keeps at it. “So, Heart, you’re a member of the team now, right?”

  All the eyes in the room flick to me, then back to her.

  “Yes, I guess I am. Until my aunt recovers,” she replies.

  “Why don’t you come out for a drink with us then? Me and some of the guys are gonna head to The One Eighty at the Manulife Center tonight. It’s a great venue, with a live band at nine o’clock.”

  All eyes turn back to Heart.

  She hesitates, clearly not interested. “Thanks, but no. Maybe next time.”

  “Aww, come on,” George presses. “We only launch a new product once or twice per year. You might not be here for the next one.”

  “Enough. She said no, George,” I say, staring him down. And right then, I realize that the opportunity I was looking for has presented itself. “Besides,” I add, “after work, she’s coming out with me.”

  Chapter Five

  Heart

  Kyle’s words make a shockwave go right through me. Delivered with quiet confidence, they brook no argument.

  I glance at him, somehow managing to keep my expression neutral.

  He flicks his gaze at me so briefly and with such nonchalance, I realize instantly that he wants me to play along.

  “We’re going to visit Nancy in the hospital and bring her a fresh sushi dinner as a surprise,” he says, as casually as if we’d just planned it together.

  Pause while the guys all trade glances. “Awesome,” one of them says. “Give Moneypenny all of our regards, will you?”

  “Thanks, I will.” I say. “Knowing you’re thinking about her means the world to her.” Turning to Kyle, I say, “Five o’clock sharp, right?”

  “Right,” he says, nodding. He takes a sip of his soft drink, cool as a cucumber. “Don’t forget to call the order in to Bento’s around four. They’ll be busy tonight so I want to give them lots of notice. Okay? I’ll be upstairs to sign those papers before quitting time ”

  “Okay,” I say, and then I leave hastily before anyone can see that my hands are shaking.

  Back in the mausoleum-like silence of the executive suite, I’m excited and puzzled and nervous.

  What the hell was that all about?

  Making a huge effort to focus on my tasks barely helps. Over the next couple hours, my mind wants to race on and on about this new development.

  By about quarter to four, I’ve convinced myself that Kyle said what he said just to rescue me from an awkward situation back there.

  Normally I don’t bother him with questions. And I already know that he’s the kind of guy who won’t like having his decisions second-guessed.

  But dammit, I think this time should be an exception. So I send him a text:

  Me: Sorry to bother you but I want to confirm Bento’s take out for my aunt this evening?

  He responds instantly.

  Kyle: What took you so long?

  Me: Aha! You were serious!

  Kyle: I’m always serious.

  Biting my lip, I consider this for a second.

  Me: I noticed. That’s why I’m confirming this sudden turn of events.

  Kyle: Maybe I made an executive decision to be more spontaneous.

  Is he…is this his idea of flirting with me? Despite myself, I hope so! Even if his flirting seems a little rusty, my heart kicks up at the thought.

  Me: Did you run it by the board of directors?

  Kyle: No. Their input isn’t required.

  Oh my God. This is the worst flirting ever. But it’s so sweet and comical, just the same.

  Me: What if I’m busy tonight?

  Pause.

  Kyle: What if I’m asking you to cancel your plans?

  Now it’s my turn to pause.

  Me: Well, I did say that I’d do anything for Nancy.

  Kyle: I’ll be up in an hour. See you then.

  Exactly an hour later, I can hear his footsteps echoing in the stairwell.

  He comes in smiling. “That’s some poker-face you have there, Heart. You caught on fast.”

  “Well, thanks. I guess I just went with my instincts.”

  His smile widens. “Good instincts, then. And great teamwork. You ready?” He grabs my coat from the coat rack. “Traffic’s brutal, let’s go!”

  “But…what about those papers you’re supposed to sign? Legal said…”

  “Screw legal. You really think a bunch of lawyers are waiting around on a Friday night?”

  “I..no, I guess not.” I can’t help smiling back.

  “Besides, I’m…I don’t know, I’m antsy. I think…maybe I’m getting burnt out. I need to get the hell out of here. Come on!” He holds my coat up and shakes it at me, lining facing towards me.

  “Okay, okay!” Grabbing my purse, I hurry over and let him help me with my coat. “Is that what this is all about?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know. Can’t a guy buy dinner for his favorite secretary and her niece?”

  “Isn’t it…isn’t you doing this for me and my aunt a kind of, uh…I dunno, favoritism or something?”

  “So what if it is? It’s my company. And everyone here is well-looked after. No one has anything to complain about.” He chuckles. “If I’d had time to think it through, I’d probably have been more worried that you’d say no.”

  Smiling, I say, “Well…usually, people do ask my permission before they monopolize my evening.”

  He laughs. “May I have your permission to monopolize your evening?” He gets his own wool trench coat from the rack and shrugs it on.

  “No,” I say, saucily, grinning.

  This is the first time I’ve seen him this playful.

  And I’m liking it.

  “Too late,” he smiles back. “You can’t back out now.” He turns to leave, then stops. “You mind taking the stairs?”

  “Not at all.”

  Together, we thunder down the stairwell, with me hurrying to keep up with him. He holds the door leading to the garage open for me.

  We get into his car and he skillfully navigates the circular ramps leading down to the street, where we wait for a break in a long line of traffic.

  “I hate the thought of Nancy eating that hospital food,” he says. “She needs a break from that, I bet. And I know that sushi’s one of her favorites.”

  “Mom and I brought her some take-out chicken and some home-made food a couple of times. But it’s good of you to think of her, Kyle.”

  He waves a hand. “What about you? Do you like sushi?”

  “Sure, but it’s not my favorite.”

  “No? What’s your favorite?”

  “I…well, favorite fast food or favorite proper food?”

  “Both.”

  “Thin-crust pizza and any kind of roast,” I answer. “What about you?”

  “MacDonald’s is my guilty pleasure,” he says, watching traffic for his chance to merge. He catches my eye and laughs. “Yeah, I know. I only have it once in a while.”

  “They do have the best french fries,” I say.

  “Crack fries,” he agrees, smiling.

  “I know, right? So, what kind of real food do you like? Wait, let me guess: Lots of red meat?”

  “Yep. I’m a meat and potatoes kind of guy. My favorite, though? Turkey with all the trimmings. No one did Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners like my mom. After she passed, my dad tried, but, it wasn’t the same.”

  “Your mom passed? I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Thanks.” Pulling into an opening in traffic smoothly, he presses a button on the dash stereo. Tasteful classical music begins floating from the speakers. “What’s your favorite music?”

  Bemused, I gaze curiously at his face. He glances back and raises that eyebrow, waiting for my answer.

  “Oh, I like all kinds of
music. Classical is nice, but I like more down-to-earth music. Older British pop, like Bowie and those guys. The Beatles. Peter Frampton. Led Zeppelin, Genesis, stuff like that.”

  “What, no Taylor Swift? No Beyonce?”

  “They’re okay, I just like the older stuff better.”

  “How come?”

  “I…well, because it’s just, more interesting to me I guess. But I’m not a snob about it. I like a lot of Canadian bands too. The ones my mom likes to listen to. Blues, like Jeff Healey, for example…”

  “Jeff Healey!” He gives me a wide grin that just about knocks my socks off. “Jeff Healey was the greatest blind musician on the planet,” he says. “Too bad he died so young.”

  “I remember that beause my mom was devastated. But a lot of people would argue that Stevie Wonder is the greatest blind musician ever.”

  “He’s more famous, for sure. No disrespect to Stevie, but I’m partial to Canadian bands myself. Listen, you can fiddle with the radio and find a different station if you want. Q107 plays a lot of oldies. Canadian bands too.”

  “Okay.” I tune the stereo to the station. Patio Lanterns by Max Webster is playing. “Oh my God, Max Webster! My mom used to love them. She said they played at her high school once, before they became famous.”

  Another big, bright smile.

  “Seriously? It’s cool that you know them. Kim Mitchell, the lead singer? He spins oldies for Q107. Or, he used to, anyway. I haven’t listened to it for so long.” He goes quiet, steering the car through traffic. “My dad liked them, too. They used to play New Year’s Eve at Maple Leaf Gardens.” He points ahead. “There’s Bento’s. And there’s a spot…oh, shit, yellow line.” He presses his lips together, then pulls into it anyway. “Okay, listen. I’m gonna double-park here and leave it running. If you see a traffic cop, circle around the block, alright?”

  And he jumps out before I get a chance to tell him that I don’t drive.

  “What do you mean, you don’t drive?” Back in the car, he looks at me aghast before edging back into traffic.

  “You didn’t give me a chance to tell you before you leaped from the car like a speeding bullet,” I laugh.

  “Good thing there were no cops around then.” He chuckles. “So, you don’t like driving?”

  “N..nooo,” I waffle, earning a raised eyebrow from Kyle. “I…I’ll get my full license, eventually.” I shoot him a glance. “Maybe. I don’t need a car anyway, living downtown.”

  “Hmm. True enough, but that’s not the real reason, is it?”

  “Welll….it’s most of the reason?” I glance at him again sheepishly.

  “”What’s the rest of the reason?”

  “I…um. It’s kind of embarrassing. But I think I’m too nervous to drive.”

  “You? Nervous? You don’t strike me as the nervous type.”

  “Heh. Well, you don’t know everything about me.”

  “Also true. But tell me, have you ever tried driving?”

  “Yep. My dad used to take me out for lessons in his car.”

  “And?”

  Oh God. Now I’m gonna have to tell him.

  “Yes. But I…look, this is embarrassing as hell.”

  He mimes zipping his lip. “I won’t tell anyone.”

  Sigh.

  “Alright. The last time he took me for a lesson, I hit the gas instead of the brake by accident, and I…almost smashed into the car in front of us. I managed to swerve but we went into the ditch.” I fiddle with the bags of take-out sushi in my lap. “We didn’t involve the insurance company, so my dad’s rates didn’t go up, at least. And we split the cost of the tow and the repairs to his car. But it was an expensive mistake, one I don’t want to repeat.”

  “Aww, shit,” he says, sympathetically. “It could happen to anyone. Look at it this way: If you’d hit the other car, it could have been a lot worse. Sounds like you have good reflexes. You should try again.”

  “You sound like my dad now. He keeps saying the same thing.”

  “Well, he’s right. But you don’t want to?”

  “No, I do. I always wanted to drive. But I don’t want to cause my dad any more trouble. He works too hard. Mom doesn’t work outside the home, and he likes it that way. I respect that, but he doesn’t need any more hassles.”

  He nods thoughtfully. “I see. So, you have your learner’s permit, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, have you thought about driving school?”

  “Yeah, but…I don’t know. Maybe later. Driving lessons are expensive.”

  Another thoughtful nod. “I getcha. What if you could get free lessons?”

  “No one gives free lessons, Kyle.”

  “Well, I could. If you want.” At the entrance to the hospital parking lot now, he flicks on the turn signal and pulls into the driveway.

  Giving him an incredulous look, I say: “You want to risk your Beamer ending up in the ditch?”

  He laughs. “No. This isn’t my only car. I still have my old beater from my college days, believe it or not.”

  “Really? What kind of car is it?”

  We drive slowly past rows of parked cars, looking for a spot.

  “An ancient VW Golf. ” He laughs, steering the car down the next row of cars. “It’s in the garage at my dad’s place. We worked on it together. I leave it there so he can use it when he doesn’t want to drive his truck. We could use that.”

  “I…seriously? Wow, that’s…that’s very sweet of you, Kyle. but, I…I don’t know.”

  “Ah, come on. It’ll be fun.”

  Just as we pull into an open spot, the R&B guitar overture of a familiar oldie comes bouncing out of the car stereo speakers.

  Kyle puts the car in park but leaves it running, holding a finger up. “Listen! You know this one?”

  “Oh my God. Yes, it’s Drive My Car by the Beatles. You’ve gotta be kidding me!”

  Grinning wide, he sings the first familiar line. Then: “It’s gotta be kismet, Heart,” he jokes. “I mean, if the Beatles want you to drive my car, then, I don’t see how you can say no.”

  “Beep beep ’n’ beep beep, yeah!” I sing-song along with the chorus. “Okay, I guess that would be cool. Thank you, Kyle.”

  Wow, this is…kind of amazing. I’m thrilled that Kyle seems to want to hang out with me, teach me to drive…but also, so nervous.

  It’s like my heart’s been beating faster since he made that unexpected announcement at lunch, and it still hasn’t settled down.

  “My pleasure.” He shuts off the ignition and exits the car. Then he comes around to my side to help me with the bags of take-out.

  Together, we head into the hospital, still singing the old Beatles tune.

  Chapter Six

  Kyle

  Heart steps ahead of me into Nancy’s hospital room to make sure she’s ready for visitors.

  “Oh, hi Mom,” she says. “Hi Nan! We brought something special for you for dinner. Sushi!”

  “Hi sweetie,” I hear what must be Heart’s mother’s response. “That’s so nice of you!”

  “Oh thank God,” Nancy says, her familiar voice sounding stronger and even more herself than last time. “I’m pretty sure they bring sick people to hospitals so they can finish them off with the food.”

  “Population control,” the other voice agrees, sounding very much like Nancy’s.

  Heart steps inside the room, where I can hear her setting the bags down.

  “Who’s “we”?” Heart’s mom asks. “Is your Dad with you?”

  “No, it’s Kyle. Nancy’s boss. He’s waiting outside the door til he gets the all-clear.”

  “Oh!” Nancy and her sister say it in unison. Then, Nancy’s voice calls out: “Kyle? Come in, come in, stop lurking in the hallway!”

  All three ladies smile warmly as I come in. “It’s so sweet of you to come see me again! And bringing Bento’s!” Nancy says.

  “Yes, thank you so much for visiting my sister, Mr. Ross,” Heart’s mom
says. She rises from the bedside chair to greet me. “I’m Nancy’s sister, Corazon. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Call me Kyle. Nice to meet you too,” I reply, taking the hand she’s offering.

  “Heart, this is so thoughtful of you!” Nancy says.

  “Not my idea,” Heart holds up her hands. “It was Kyle’s. The only reason I’m involved is because he rescued me from, ah, peer pressure today.”

  “Peer pressure?” Nancy and Cora look at Heart, puzzled.

  “Launch week night out,” I say. “One of the dev guys was persistent about asking Heart to join them.”

  “Ohhh,” Nancy groans. “Don’t tell me…it was George. Right?”

  “Right!” Heart laughs, then explains what happened at lunch. “And Kyle was so smooth about it, it was no problem,” she finishes. “Oh, and they all send their regards, Nance.”

  “Tell them I said thanks. And you…” She points to me, “…are so sneaky, Kyle! I heartily approve.”

  “Me too,” Cora says, smiling.

  “Why, thank-you ladies,” I nod, smiling. “Let’s eat! There’s plenty for everyone. I got extra plates, utensils and extra wasabi, just in case.”

  “Damn, I was just thinking about Bento’s sushi,” Nancy says, digging into the bags. “You’re a Godsend and a mind-reader, Kyle.”

  “No problem.”

  Heart opens the other bag containing the extra utensils, plastic plates and condiments as Nancy opens the big sushi platter and takes a deep sniff. “Oh my God, that smells so fresh!”

  But my eyes are still on Cora.

  It’s deceptive and easy to miss at first, because her hair is different. It’s much longer, colored blonde, and she wears it in a softer, more modern style than Nancy’s salt and pepper, work up-do.

  But the face…the face is identical to Nancy’s.

  “Ahhh…it just hit me,” I say, gesturing to the two sisters.

  “Yes, we’re twins,” Nancy says, looking puzzled, as if I should know that.

  “Yep,” Cora says, grinning at my expression. “You didn’t know Nancy had a twin?”

  “No, she never mentioned it.”

  “I didn’t?” Nancy looks up and to the side, trying to remember. Her hair looks soft and freshly washed, and her brown eyes are bright and clear today. “No, I guess I didn’t. Well, now you know.”