A Lady Under Siege(39)

“What the hell is this about?” Derek grumbled. “I haven’t had my coffee—”

“It doesn’t matter, Derek. Thomas will get it, that’s what matters.”

“Thomas has left the building,” Derek mumbled.

“No, let me finish!” Meghan insisted. “I’m not speaking to you, I’m speaking to Thomas. This is important. Thomas, I think you need to sit Sylvanne down, and tell her the full story, so I can give a proper diagnosis. What are the symptoms, where does Daphne hurt, how often does she have a bowel movement, spare no detail. Do you hear me? I hope you hear me.”

“Remember I told you it was cute, this weird little mania of yours? It’s not cute. Not at seven in the morning.”

“It’s after nine. I’m sorry Derek, I’ve gotta run.”

She scurried down his steps to the street, the sound of her heels clattering on the concrete sidewalk as she hurried to her car. She heard Derek call out, “It’s not cute—it’s creepy!”

A MINOR TRAFFIC ACCIDENT involving a bicycle courier had snarled traffic, and by the time the elevator doors opened on the eleventh floor, Meghan glanced at her cell phone and saw she was twelve minutes late. She hurried past reception down a curving carpeted path between cubicles, and poked her head into the conference room, to find that Jan was the only person there. “Debra told me if you were more than ten minutes late to forget it. Now what do we do?” she asked. Debra was their boss.

Meghan picked up the phone on the conference table and punched in Debra’s extension. “Debra? So sorry. Traffic was an absolute bitch.” When she hung up Jan said, “That was very brave—using the phrase absolute bitch when speaking to one.”

Meghan laughed. “The meeting’s still on, she’ll be here in a sec.” She laid out her designs on the table and waited. A sec turned into five minutes. Jan said, “She’s doing it deliberately, to let us know she’s the alpha male around here.”

“I thought you’d say alpha bitch,” Meghan whispered.

In an even lower whisper, Jan replied, “I was going to, but she might stick her snout through that door any second.” Then she asked brightly, at normal volume, “How are you, anyway? How are the dreams? Still under siege? Did you meet your Thomas yet?”

“I have, in fact.”

“What’s he like?”

“He looks exactly like Derek, my neighbour.”

“What, the hunky drunk next door? The midnight flasher?”

“The very same.”

“You’ve been dreaming of your neighbour this whole time?”

“There’s more to it than that. Much more. Incredibly more. It’s complicated—”

“I saw him once, when I helped you move in—”

“I know, you told me. You think he’s cute.”

“Shaggy-cute. A woolly bohemian. And Thomas looks like him?”

Meghan nodded. “Thomas is in better shape. He’s more serious. He carries himself better,” she said.

“Always the way.”

“What do you mean?”

“The dream man is always better than reality.”

“Jan. It’s not a joke.”

“Of course not,” Jan replied. “I need to get a second look at your neighbour, see what we’re dealing with here.”

“You’ve already seen him.”

“I glimpsed him in his back yard, from your deck. He waved. Had a nice smile. Since then I’ve only heard about him from you. Is he still acting like a complete jerk?”

“Not always. Betsy and he are like best buddies now. He gets along with her better than I do.”

“She’s missing her dad,” Jan said.

“Who’s utterly preoccupied with his prize student, and the baby she’s so kindly growing for him.”

“Men are such idiots.”

“Most of them,” Meghan agreed.

“And what about Thomas, is he an idiot too?”

“No, actually.” For a moment she pictured him in Daphne’s room, tending to his sickly daughter by dim candlelight. “In my dreams he’s kind of…” she paused, searching for just the right word to describe him. “Admirable.”

“I thought you were going to say hot,” Jan teased.

“Jan, I beg you, take it seriously,” Meghan scolded her. She was surprised to hear Sylvanne in the tone of her own voice, and in the odd phrasing. I beg you.