An Irresistible Bachelor(51)

Of course. Bennett as in Bennett Trust Company. As in the Bennett School of Private Industry at Harvard University.

She frowned, thinking she'd also heard of Gray Bennett himself, but not in the financial sector. What had it been?

"Would you like some wine?" Gray asked, picking up the bottle of red off the table.

"She only likes white," Jack said, taking her glass and filling it from a bottle of Chardonnay he had cooling in a stand.

By the time the antipasto course had been eaten, Callie was surprised at how easy Gray was to talk to. He was interested in what she said, asked questions about her work and where she was from, but didn't probe the way Jack did. And when he talked about himself, she figured out why she knew of him.

Gray Bennett was a heavy hitter in politics. As a consultant specializing in elections, he knew a lot about Washington and she was fascinated by his juicy stories about the political world, even if he edited out some of the names. As the entrees arrived, she decided that having dinner with him wasn't quite the chore she'd assumed it would be.

Jack was the one making her uneasy. He was a constant source of movement, tapping his foot on the floor, folding his napkin again and again, rearranging his place setting. He looked like he couldn't wait to get the meal over with, and as a plate of pasta was set before him, he told the waiter to start preparing the dessert.

Gray grinned at her. "You'll have to excuse Jack. He hates downtime. Any wasted moment is a crime to him."

When Jack's mouth tightened, Gray cocked an eyebrow at him. "Do you want to leave? I can assure you, Callie and I will do just fine on our own."

Jack looked as if that was about as attractive an option as staying was. He brushed a hand through his hair and seemed tired. "Just ignore me. I've got a lot on my mind."

Gray looked across the table at her. "Did he tell you we were roommates at Harvard?"

When she nodded, the man poured himself a little more wine and settled back in his chair. "Did he tell you how we were almost expelled?"

"No, I didn't," Jack said.



"Ah, good. A fresh slate." Gray rubbed his palms together. "Picture this. It's right before Christmas break, around midnight. Jack, his brother, Nate, and I decide that we've had enough of studying. We head out of Eliot House, convinced there has to be more to life than Aristotle, Homer, and their crew of deep-thinking, toga-wearing wordsmiths."

"I think I was studying stats, actually."

Gray waved Jack into silence. "We end up at the boathouse and decide that taking a shell or two out on the Charles will be a great way to burn off some energy. The three of us get on the water in separate boats and decide we'll race between bridges. Losers have to take off a piece of clothing after each sprint. The winner gets bragging rights and seventy-four dollars and fifty-three cents, which was all the cash we had on us at the time."

"God, do you remember how cold it was that night?" Jack interjected.

"Now Nate and I, we know who we're going up against. Jack was captain of the varsity crew team. The man could row anyone under the table, hell, he probably still can. In light of his scary skills, we made him start twenty yards back. But you cheated, didn't you?"

"Like I had to with you two lightweights?" Jack was warming up now, his eyes flashing. "I don't think so."

"So we start racing," Gray went on. "After four laps, Jack is fully clothed, Nate and I are rowing without shirts and shoes. A crowd starts to gather on one of the bridges so, of course, we start showing off. Jack didn't lose once, but Nate and I put on one hell of a strip show at the end of each pass. We were down to our underwear when the accident happened."

Callie glanced over at Jack and saw his smile dim.

Gray also got more serious. "Nate was taking off his boxers and waving them to the crowd when his shell tipped. I can still see him right before he went in, tilted at a totally wrong angle, arms pinwheeling, eyes wide. He hit his head on an oar as he went into the river. Before I was even out of my seat, Jack had whipped off his jacket and plowed into the water. How cold was it?"

"Probably forty-five degrees. It hadn't frozen yet, but it was close," Jack said, bringing his wineglass to his lips.

"Anyway, Jack dragged Nate back to shore. The police, alerted by the rowdy crowd, showed up just as they collapsed on the ground next to the bridge. The two of them got carted off with the lights going. It was very exciting."