He’d sold twenty cars to the sultan of Tumari, each personalized, and each vehicle netting a tidy profit for Falcon Motorcars, their biggest single order in their thirty-year history. The sultan required so many gold accessories that they might have to open a mine somewhere. The order would keep them busy for two years, would require hiring and training a few new craftsmen.
“Welcome home,” Noah said, coming into his doorway. He was taller by several inches and heavier by twenty pounds of rock-solid muscle. “I heard you arranged a prison break for Belle.”
David grinned. “She’s finally speaking to me again.” He trailed Noah into his office, both taking a seat on the leather sofa.
“So, you found someone to live in,” Noah said.
“Yep. Which is why I took Belle home. Valerie started yesterday.”
“If she’s good, maybe she’ll come work for me when she gets sick of you.”
“Don’t tell me you’re losing another nanny.”
“She hasn’t quit yet, but she’s been there for two months. Shouldn’t be too much longer.”
Get a clue, David wanted to yell at his brother. His nannies quit for good reasons. “Keep your overly generous job offers away from Valerie,” he said instead. “I think she’s the one.”
Noah raised his brows. “The one?”
“Not that kind of one. The perfect employee. The only hitch is that she has an eight-year-old daughter. We’re doing a one-month test run.” He didn’t want to jinx the relationship by talking about it more than that.
“You do seem mellowed out.”
“I do?” The idea took him by surprise.
“You’re not pacing. Or jingling your keys in your pocket. Like Dad.”
David couldn’t give credit to Valerie for that, not after less than a day. Maybe the idea of how his life could settle down and run more smoothly had relaxed him some, but he couldn’t have changed in twelve hours.
“I’d forgotten that about Dad,” David said, glancing at the photo of him—with Noah, Gideon and himself—on the wall. “Never could sit still.”
The brothers stared at the picture for a few seconds. Dad. Another topic David didn’t really want to get into.
Mae leaned into the office. “The third secretary to the sultan is on line one.”
David hopped up.
“Third secretary, hmm?” Noah said. “Guess you didn’t make as much of an impression as we all thought.”
“The sultan’s got fifteen secretaries. Having number three call ranks me high,” he said over his shoulder as he hurried out the door and into his own office. Fifteen minutes later he slid a note into Noah’s line of vision as he talked on the phone: “They added four more to the order.”
Noah gave a thumbs-up.
David wandered into the shop. The sound of pneumatic tools created an odd soundtrack to work by, and the journeymen craftsmen stayed focused on the work except to give David a wave or nod.
The bays were filled with four cars in various stages of assembly. At the company’s European operation in Hamburg, Germany, eight bays were filled at all times. They had orders for fourteen more cars, plus the twenty-four for the sultan. Most took about two thousand hours to build. The company created three basic models: a two-seater convertible sports car, a larger four-seater luxury passenger car and limos, each custom-fit to the customer’s specs, including bulletproofing.
The brothers had increased twenty-fold the business their father had founded. With the new order for the sultan, they’d sealed their financial stability for years to come. David could finally relax a little.…
If Noah let him. In that sense Noah was like their father—he could never slow down, never miss out on any potential business. He hadn’t taken a vacation in years. But maybe that was because he couldn’t handle that much concentrated time with his children.
Which made David wonder about Valerie, and why Hannah’s father wasn’t in the picture. Had he ever been? Had he abandoned them?
David headed back to his office, channeling his focus elsewhere, not wanting to be reminded of parental abandonment. It was something he couldn’t afford to think about.
Chapter Four
At six-thirty, through the open kitchen windows, Valerie heard a car make its way up the driveway, the tires-on-gravel sound distinctive. Earlier in the day she’d peeked through the garage window and spied two cars: a large mocha-colored pickup and a shiny black SUV. She’d wondered what he’d driven to work, and assumed it was a Falcon car because his other two were American-made brands she knew.
Sure enough, a sleek silver convertible sports car came into view, the sun reflecting off a soaring-falcon hood ornament. One of the garage doors opened and David drove straight in. When he emerged a few seconds later, her pulse thumped in anticipation. Would he approve of everything she’d done? Would he even notice? She’d worked hard all day, never stopping to rest except to sit by the pool for a half hour while Hannah swam, but even then reading the files he’d left on his desk for her.
Her mind reeled with the details of a business completely foreign to her. Her body ached from scrubbing and vacuuming. But she’d caught herself humming several times during the day. Work had never been so much fun.
Much of her happiness came from the general situation—she and Hannah had a safe, beautiful place to live. She worked for a decent man. And in a month she would have health insurance and a sense of security. All of that would spill over to Hannah, too, who had tuned in to Valerie’s stress, especially this past year, even though she’d tried to hide it from her daughter. Worry about ever-increasing debt had robbed Valerie of sleep many nights.
The kitchen door swung open, and David breezed into the room, his hair windblown from driving with the top down. The messy look made him seem younger—or maybe just carefree. At the agency yesterday, his jaw had been as hard as granite, his brows drawn together, forming deep lines that had aged him. By evening, he’d relaxed considerably.
“How was your day?” she asked, locking her hands together.
“Productive.” He set his briefcase on the nearest counter, next to the stack of mail she’d brought in earlier. “Yours?”
“The same.”
“You get your daughter registered in school?”
“All taken care of. She starts a week from Monday. The bus will pick her up right out front.”
He picked up the mail and thumbed through it. “Good.”
Valerie stood by silently, wondering what to do. Apparently, she’d been wrong—he’d only seemed looser. He was taut with tension.
“Would you like a drink?” she asked.
“Yeah. I’ll get it, though,” he said vaguely, perusing the contents of a large envelope. After a minute he looked up at her. “Don’t let me keep you.”
She smiled. “I’m here to serve.”
Everything about him seemed to relax then. He put aside the mail and focused on her. “Something smells great.”
“Ribs. They’re precooking now, then I’ll put them on the grill to finish them up. There’s also potato salad, corn on the cob and apple pie.”
“Where have you been all my life?”
Looking for you. The wayward thought caught Valerie by surprise. No way was she letting herself wish for something she couldn’t have. A smart woman learned from her mistakes.
“I’ve