Page 41 of Evan

But he knew instinctually that it was not like that. He loved talking to her. Whenever he was with her, he felt as if all the cares of the world had faded away.

She was wholesome and sweet. She did not treat him any differently. She teased him until he could not help but laugh. She didn’t want anything from him. In the past, women had wanted him for one reason or another. They expected expensive gifts and would kill for the opportunity of becoming Mrs. Davenport.

He was stirred from his tortured reverie when the meeting was called to a close. Blinking, he realized that the rest of the members were staring at him in anticipation and wondered how long he had been out of it. He had no idea what they had been discussing and had made no important contribution to the meeting.

A dull flush stained his cheeks. Pushing back his chair, he tried to recover and take back the command by giving a brisk nod, indicating the meeting was finished.

Waiting until they had filed from the conference room, he went straight to the refreshment table and poured a tall glass of orange juice. His head was throbbing, but it was too soon to take any more pain pills, and he had an idea that it was not doing any good.

Walking over to the window, he stared out at the sky. The corporate office occupied several blocks and was a towering building with fifteen floors. It had been in this specific location for more than a hundred years.

Changes had been made over the years, the building had been modernized at the turn of the twentieth century, carpets changed, the structure reinforced and when he had taken over, he had made drastic changes to his suite of offices. His father and uncle had leaned more to the ostentatious.

He would have preferred a more muted design. He has also made changes when it comes to the way he handled his employees and the management staff.

His father and uncle had believed in keeping women in clerical positions, with only a few at the management level to prevent them from being frowned upon by the business world or being accused of being biased against the fairer sex. The few women had held the titles but were prevented from making any important decisions.

He had changed all of that by revamping the entire management system. Now there were females in every department and on theboard and they were not ornamental. He did not place someone in a position because of the way they look. He looked for quality and experience. He was determined to make a difference and had a feeling that he had.

But suddenly it did not mean anything to him. He felt as if he was existing in a vacuum, sinking into a hole that was slowly covering him and taking his breath. It had all changed for him, and it had taken just a couple of weeks for his perspective to change.

He spent so much time working tirelessly to change things around that there had hardly been time to socialize.

Taking a sip of the OJ, he reflected on the picnic. A smile touched his lips as he recalled her attempt to let him forget about his reservations.

She had told him funny stories about the kids in her Sunday school class. Then they had turned into poignant moments.

“Becky is such a sweet child, and she is desperate to please. She has a learning disability and lives with her grandparents. Her mother died when she was two and her dad disappeared right after she was born.

She is so determined to be like the others that she often holds her hand up or insists on being picked for all the games. I love her so much, and I am afraid it’s obvious that she is my favorite.”

He had looked at her with raised brows, fascinated by her melodious tone of voice and her animated expression when she spoke of ‘her kids’. “Is that allowed? Favoritism?”

She laughed, her dark brown eyes sparkling. “It’s not supposed to be a thing, but I cannot help it. Becky embodies determination and the attitude of not allowing anything to stand in the way of getting ahead. She is strong and resilient, and I love that about her.”

She looked at him as he continued to stare.

“What?”

“You want children of your own.”

“Of course.”

He had felt the heat gathering inside his lower body as the idea of his children growing inside her womb, of her growing progressively bigger with his seed.

“Don’t you?”

He had shrugged and lied because he was ambivalent. “I haven’t thought about it.”

From her direct stare, he knew she had not believed him, but she had not pursued the line of conversation but went back to talking about her Sunday school children. Within minutes, shehad him laughing at the antics of a boy named Billy and the trouble he got into just to get her attention.

“Sounds like he has a crush on you.” He observed, trying not to think about the older men who probably wanted to be with her.

“A little.” She told him with a smile. “He brings me things from home all the time. One day he brought me a box of chocolates, his dad gave his mother for her birthday.”

“What did you do?” He was so intrigued by her story that the time simply flew by.

“I accepted the gift of course and told him that he did not have to give me anything. I was satisfied by just seeing him each time he was in my class. Then I told him that his dad had given his mom a special gift because he loved her. I gave it back to his mom after assuring him that he was not going to be in trouble.”