The Way to a Man's Heart

  “I’m pleased to meet you, Brian.”

  “You, too, Professor.”

  “Please call me Grey.”

  “Can I call you that, too?” Chad asked. He wasn’t wearing his shoes, and his socks had huge holes in the toes.

  “That’s Chad,” Meghan said, and prayed Grey didn’t notice her brother’s feet.

  “I’m fifteen. How old are you?”

  “Chad!” Meghan cried, closing her eyes.

  “He looks too old for you, Meghan,” Chad muttered under his breath. “Now I suppose you’re going to get all mad at me because I said so.”

  She offered Grey a weak smile, which was the best she could do.

  “I’m thirty-four,” Grey answered without a pause. “And you’re right, I am too old for Meghan.”

  “No, you’re not,” Danny piped up, walking over and holding out his hand, which Grey readily accepted. “I’m Danny.”

  Meghan could have kissed the freckles off her youngest brother’s nose at that moment. Grey wasn’t too old for her. In fact, their age difference had never come up before, as she hadn’t given the matter a second thought.

  Danny, however, quickly destroyed all her goodwill by adding, “So, you don’t play football? I always hoped that when Meghan got married her husband would like sports.”

  “Danny!” Meghan cried, feeling her face explode with color. “Professor Carlyle and I are just getting to know each other. We aren’t going to be married.”

  “You’re not?”

  “Of course not. We only met a few days ago.”

  “Yeah, but from the way you’ve been acting all afternoon, I thought you were really hot for this guy.”

  Meghan cast him a look heated enough to boil water.

  “All right, all right,” Danny moaned. “I’ll shut up.”

  “Meghan,” her father advised discreetly, “if you let go of Grey’s arm, he might be able to take off his coat and sit down.”

  “Oh, sorry,” she said, smiling apologetically. She cast Grey a knowing glance and whispered, “I warned you.”

  “So you did,” he mumbled back, and removed his overcoat, keeping the bouquet of flowers with him.

  “Would you like some tea or coffee or anything else before dinner?” Meghan asked him, just as her mother stepped into the room.

  “Professor, how good of you to come,” Colleen said graciously.

  Grey handed her the roses. “Thank you for asking me, Mrs. O’Day.”

  “Colleen, please,” she corrected. “Oh my! Roses! Really, Professor, you shouldn’t have, but I’m glad you did. It’s been years since I’ve received anything so lovely.”

  “You brought the roses for my mom?” Danny asked incredulously. “What did you bring for Meghan? I thought you were sweet on her. You better watch it, ’cause she’s got a temper.”

  “Danny,” Meghan whispered, her eyes pleading with his. “Please don’t say another word. Not one more word!”

  “But—”

  “Do me a favor and keep quiet for the rest of the afternoon.”

  The injustice of it all was nearly more than her youngest sibling could take, and he tucked his arms over his chest and centered his concentration on the football game that blared from the television.

  “How are the Chiefs doing?” Grey asked, sitting down in the chair beside her father.

  “Terrible,” Pat O’Day muttered, and sadly shook his head. “The Seahawks are running all over them. What they need is more power in the backfield.”

  “Dad’s something of an armchair quarterback,” Meghan explained.

  “Do you like football, Professor?” Chad asked, leaning forward from his position on the ottoman, his hands clasped. His gaze was intent, as though the outcome of Grey’s relationship with the O’Day family rested on his reply.

  “I’ve been known to watch a game every now and again,” Grey answered.

  Meghan sighed her relief.

  “That’s great, because us men usually play a game or two ourselves after dinner,” Chad informed him, as though expecting Grey to volunteer to join them.

  It was all Meghan could do to keep from jumping up and down and waving her arms in an effort to remind her brothers of what she’d said. They’d promised not to involve Grey in any of this, but it looked as if Chad had conveniently forgotten.

  “I’ll take the flowers into the kitchen. Thank you again, Professor,” Colleen said, gently sniffing them and smiling proudly. She turned toward her husband and sons. “Dinner will be ready in thirty minutes, so don’t get so involved in this silly football game.”

  “Don’t worry, Mom,” Brian said. “The Chiefs are losing.”

  Meghan stood, her feet braced apart. She would have remained planted there had her mother not dragged her into the kitchen again.

  “Mom,” she protested, looking back at Grey. “It’s not safe in there for him. Grey isn’t like other men.”

  “Oh?” Her mother’s eyebrows arched speculatively and her eyes twinkled with amusement.

  What Meghan really meant to say was that Grey wasn’t anything like the other men she’d dated over the past few years. He was special, and she didn’t want anything to happen that would destroy their budding relationship.

  “I mean,” she hurried to add, “Grey’s an only child. His whole life has revolved around academia. All Brian, Chad, and Danny know is football. Grey was so smart he was sent to an advanced preschool class, for heaven’s sake.” Her mother looked impressed, and Meghan continued, listing the details of his academic achievements. “From kindergarten he went straight into a gifted-students program. Grey’s a lamb among wolves in there with Dad and the boys.”

  “He’ll do just fine,” her mother returned confidently.

  “But—”

  “Now, come on, fretting isn’t going to do any good, and neither is hurrying in there to rescue him from the fiendish plots of your younger brothers.”

  Meghan cast a longing glance over her shoulder, knowing her mother was right but longing to run interference. Grey meant more to her than any man she’d ever met. She and Grey were vastly different—almost complete opposites—and yet they shared several common interests.

  Meghan’s biggest fear, now that she’d had time to analyze it, was that his meeting her family would emphasize how different they were and discourage Grey from continuing their relationship.

  “I’ll set the table,” Meghan offered, when she’d finished dicing the tomato for the salad. The dining room was situated between the living room and the kitchen and offered Meghan the opportunity to check on Grey without being obvious. She opened the drawer to the china hutch and brought out the lace tablecloth. While she was there, she stuck her head around the corner and chanced a peek inside the living room. To her dismay, she discovered Grey and her father deeply involved in a game of chess. She groaned and pressed her forehead against the wall. As much as she loved her father, when it came to chess he was a fanatic and, even worse, a terrible sport.

  By the time Meghan finished setting the table and mashing the potatoes, dinner was ready. She stood with her hands braced against the back of a dining room chair while the men gathered around the table.

  “Professor, please sit next to Meghan,” Colleen O’Day instructed, pointing toward the empty chair beside her daughter.

  Grey moved to her side.

  “I saw you and Dad,” she muttered out of the side of her mouth. “How’d it go?”

  “He won.”

  Meghan sighed, appeased. “Thank you,” she whispered back.

  “Fair and square, Meghan. I didn’t throw the game.”

  “Dad won?” she asked, louder this time, her voice filled with surprise. She blinked a couple times, hardly able to believe what she was hearing.

  “I’m the world’s worst chess player, only you never bothered to ask.”

  A smile quivered at the corners of her mouth and she shook her head. Once her father had claimed his place at the head of the table, the fa
mily bowed their heads as he offered the blessing.

  Meals had always been a happy, sharing time for the O’Days, and Danny started in talking about what was lacking on the Kansas City Chiefs football team.

  The buttermilk biscuits were passed around, followed by Yankee pot roast, mashed potatoes, thick gravy, small green peas, and a fresh salad.

  “Professor, Meghan was telling me you graduated from high school when you were fourteen,” her mother stated conversationally, turning the subject away from football.

  “Is that true?” Chad popped half a biscuit into his mouth and stared at Grey as if the older man had recently stepped off a spaceship.

  Grey cleared his throat and looked self-conscious. “Yes.”

  Colleen O’Day looked on proudly. “Meghan was always the one who earned top marks in our family.”

  “That’s because she’s a girl,” Danny objected. “Girls always do better in school—teachers like them better. Only sissies get good grades.” As if he suddenly realized what he’d said, Danny’s gaze shot to Grey and he quickly lowered his eyes. “Not all boys who get good grades are nerds, though.”

  Meghan wanted to kick Danny under the table, but she dared not. She was pleased that her mother didn’t continue to drill Grey about his education. She could well imagine what her brothers would say if they knew he’d zipped through college and gone directly into a doctoral program. From there, he’d been accepted on the faculty of Friends University, where he’d taught ever since.

  “What about girls?” Brian asked, directing the question to Grey. “I mean, if you were so much younger than everyone else, who was there for you to date?”

  “No one,” Grey admitted frankly. “I didn’t know many girls as it was. There weren’t any my age in the neighborhood and none at school, either. Until I was in my twenties, I rarely had anything to do with the opposite sex.”

  “Personally, I don’t think they’re worth the trouble,” Danny said, completely serious. “Brian used to think that way, but then he met Allison Flynn and he’s gone to the other side. Chad’s not much better. There’s a girl who calls him all the time and they talk for hours. I think he’s turning traitor, too.”

  “It happens that way sometimes,” Grey commented, sharing a knowing look with Meghan and doing an admirable job of disguising his amusement.

  “You like my sister, don’t you?” Danny continued, and then added before Grey could answer, “I guess that’s all right, if she likes you. And she does. You wouldn’t believe it. From the moment she arrived this morning, all she’s done is give us instructions on what we could say to you and what we couldn’t. I’ve forgotten half the stuff already.”

  “Obviously,” Meghan said wryly.

  “I think I can understand why Meghan likes you so much,” Chad said with a thoughtful stare. “You teach literature, and Meghan really loves that stuff. She’s always reading books dead people wrote.”

  Meghan stood abruptly and braced her hands against the edge of the table. “Anyone for dessert?”

  ***

  An hour later, Meghan was helping her mother with the last of the dishes. Brian had cleared the table and the other boys had dealt with the leftovers and loading the dishwasher, leaving the few pots and pans that needed to be washed by hand. Grey and her father were in the living room playing a second game of chess.

  “Meghan,” her mother said with an expressive sigh, “I wish you’d relax. Grey is doing just fine.”

  “I know,” she said, rubbing the palms of her hands together. “I suppose I’m overreacting, but I wanted him to feel at home with all of us, and I don’t know if that’s possible with the boys.”

  “He seems to be taking their teasing in his stride.”

  “What else can he do?” she exclaimed. “Challenge Danny to a duel?”

  Her mother laughed at that. “I told you before there was nothing to worry about.” She wiped her hands dry and reached for the hand lotion. “You like Grey, don’t you, princess? More than anyone in a long while.”

  “Oh Mom, I couldn’t have made that any more obvious.”

  Colleen O’Day chuckled. “You’re right about that.”

  “But we’re different.” She tucked an errant reddish curl around her ear and cast her gaze to the floor. She was Yankee pot roast and Grey was T-bone steak. “I like him so much, but he’s intelligent and—”

  “So are you,” her mother countered.

  “Educated.”

  “You’re self-taught. You may not have an extensive education, but you’ve always had an inquiring mind and a hunger for the written word. Grey wouldn’t be attracted to you if you weren’t bright.”

  “But he’s dignified and proud.”

  Her mother continued spreading the cream over her hands, composing her thoughts. “I don’t see any real problem there. Just don’t wear your purple tennis shoes around him.”

  Meghan laughed, and then chewed on the corner of her mouth. “I’m crazy about him, Mom, but I’m afraid I’m closing my eyes to reality. I can’t understand why Grey is interested in me. It won’t last, and I’m so afraid of falling in love with him. I expect him to open his eyes any minute and realize how irrational our being together is. It would devastate me. I’m excited and afraid at the same time.”

  Her mother was silent for a long moment. “When you were four years old, you were reading.”

  “What has that got to do with anything?”

  Her mother smiled faintly. “From the time you could walk you were hauling books around with you everywhere you went. You were bound and determined to find out what all those letters meant and all their sounds. I don’t suppose you remember the way you used to follow me through the house, pestering the life out of me until I’d give up and sit down with you. Once you were able to connect the letters with the sounds, you were on your own and there was no holding you back.”

  “It’s not letters and sounds that I’m dealing with now. It’s a man, and I feel so incredibly unsure of myself.”

  “Let your heart guide you, princess. You’ve always been sensible when it comes to relationships. You’re not one to fall head over heels in love at the drop of a hat. If you feel so strongly about Grey, even if you’ve only known him a short time, then all I can advise you is to trust yourself.”

  “There isn’t anything else I can do, is there?”

  “He’s a good man.”

  “I know.”

  Meghan’s father drifted into the kitchen and reached for a leftover buttermilk biscuit. He paused and chuckled. “I’ve got to hand it to that young man of yours,” he said to Meghan.

  “What, Dad?” Meghan fully expected him to comment on the chess game.

  “Chad and Danny talked him into playing football. They’re in the front yard now.”

  Six

  “But Grey’s wearing a suit!” Meghan burst out as though that fact alone would prevent him from participating in any form of physical activity.

  “Brian lent him an old sweatshirt of his.”

  “Oh dear,” Meghan cried, rushing toward the front of the house.

  “He doesn’t need you,” her father called after her. “Your professor friend is perfectly capable of taking care of himself, don’t you think?”

  “Against Chad and Danny?” she challenged. “And Brian?”

  Her father responded with a tight frown. “On second thought, maybe you’d better check on him.”

  Meghan grabbed her coat from the hall closet on her way out the door. Her first thought was to dash onto the lawn and insist all four of them stop their foolishness this minute. Instead, she stood on the porch with her hand over her mouth as she watched the unfolding scene.

  Grey was bent forward, his hands braced against his knees. After shouting out a long series of meaningless numbers, Brian took several steps in reverse and lobbed the football to Grey. The ball soared through the air, the entire length of the yard, and no one looked more shocked than Chad and Danny when Grey caught it.

/>   “Go for the touchdown!” Brian screamed at the top of his lungs.

  “No!” Meghan called out. Unable to watch, she covered her face with both hands. A chill rippled down her spine that had nothing to do with the frosty November weather. Part of her longed to run into the middle of their scrimmage. She wanted to yank Grey off the grass before he got hurt, but she had no right to act as his guardian. As an adult, he must have known what he was getting himself into when he agreed to this craziness. He would be lucky, though, if he came out of this with nothing more than a broken bone.

  From the hoots and cheers that followed, it became apparent that Grey had either scored or that Chad and Danny had stopped him cold. She couldn’t decide which, and dared not look. In the meantime, Grey took the opportunity to move toward the porch.

  “Meghan?”

  She whirled around to find him standing on the top step, looking worried. Her breath left her lungs in a sudden rush of relief. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m more concerned about you. You’re as pale as a ghost.”

  “I thought Chad was going to tackle you.”

  “He had to catch me first. I may not know much about football, but I’m one heck of a sprinter.”

  Meghan’s relief was so great that she impulsively tossed her arms around his neck and squeezed for all she was worth. He felt warm and solid against her, and she buried her face in his neck, laughing and fighting off the urge to cry at the same time.

  Chuckling, Grey wrapped his arms around her waist and swung her around. “I made a touchdown, and according to Brian, that makes me some kind of hero.”

  “Some kind of fool, you mean.”

  “You’re not going to kiss her, are you?” Danny asked, making it sound like the equivalent of picking up a slug.

  Grey’s gaze delved into Meghan’s. He wanted to kiss her, she could tell, but he wouldn’t. Not now. Later, his look promised. She answered him with a soft smile that claimed she was holding him to his word, even if it was unspoken.

  “I think we better quit while we’re ahead,” Brian suggested, joining Meghan and Grey. “It’s getting too dark, and personally, I don’t think Meghan’s heart can take much more of this. I thought she was going to faint when you caught that last pass.”