Lana rolled her eyes. “You never quit.”
“Never, baby girl.”
Lana stood up. She looked around the room. Flowers were on every available surface. “Your women?” she joked, referring to the number of bouquets.
“Well, you know...” he said with no modesty whatsoever. “What can I say? There are more women than men in our age group. Somebody has to take up the slack.”
Lana went to read a few of the cards attached to the bouquets. Sure enough, they were from females. Some names she recognized, some she didn’t. One in particular was of interest to her. It was her high school English teacher, Miss Ellen Newman.
“Miss Newman, Daddy? You’re seeing Miss Newman?” She couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice.
“She’s an attractive woman,” Aaron said. “And we share certain interests.” He raised his eyebrows in a lascivious manner, which made Lana guffaw.
“I don’t want to hear anything about Miss Newman’s certain interests,” Lana hurriedly told him.
“I was just going to say she likes going fishing, too,” Aaron said innocently.
“I’ll bet,” Lana said dryly. She turned to face him again after reading the message on another card: Get well soon, Tiger! It had been signed by another female admirer whose name she didn’t recognize.
“Maybe giving up butter and lobster aren’t the only things you should think about letting go,” she said with a laugh.
“I’d give up the shellfish before I gave up the ladies,” vowed Aaron through a smile.
Chapter 4
Ten was waiting when Lana exited her father’s hospital room. She looked up, and he was there as if out of nowhere. She smiled at him, and was reminded of the fact that she hadn’t gotten the chance to question her father about this good-looking man. She’d wanted to know his opinion of him.
“Oh, Mr. West,” she said, “there you are. Look, really, I can get home from here. Don’t trouble yourself any longer.”
“Are we going to go over that again?” Ten asked with a smile that brought out the dimples in both cheeks. Lana’s heart did a little flip-flop. Oh, calm down, she told the out-of-control muscle. But then, it wasn’t as if it’d gotten much exercise lately. Not since she’d relegated the male species to a genus lower than an earthworm.
It was unkind to be rude, though, so she tolerated his enthusiasm.
She began walking toward the bank of elevators here on the fourth floor. Ten fell into step beside her. “How’s your dad?”
“Cracking jokes with the best of them,” she said. “If I didn’t know better I’d think this is some ruse just to get me home. I wouldn’t put it past him.”
Ten squirmed a little when she said that. Guilt wasn’t an emotion that he had time for though. Lana’s presence could very well flush out that rat Jeremy Corday.
He grimaced. Okay, where had the name-calling come from? Formerly, he had thought of Jeremy Corday only as the subject of an FBI dragnet. No personal feelings had entered into it. Now all of a sudden he was attaching derogatory labels to him? Maybe it was because he had not before been so close to someone Corday had damaged with his underhanded behavior. His sympathy for Lana was growing by leaps and bounds.
He regarded Lana with a quizzical look in his eyes. “You’re joking, right? Would it take something as elaborate as that to get you to come home?”
For a moment he thought he’d overstepped his bounds because Lana simply stared up at him without saying a word for quite some time, even though it was probably only a few seconds. Then she sighed and said, “I don’t know you. You’re doing a story on my dad and I don’t want to say anything that might end up in that story. I’m sure you understand.”
The elevator doors opened and he and Lana watched as several people got off the conveyance. He was now alone with her and he pressed the call button for the lobby. “I’m off the clock,” he said. “I promise you as a journalist and, better yet, as an honorable human being, that anything you say will go no further than right here, right now.”
Lana laughed quietly. “Now see, here we are with the same conundrum. I don’t know you well enough to trust that I can take you at your word.” She’d had her fill of charming men. Not to mention, Jeremy, who had a way of making you divulge everything about yourself until you were laid bare.
Her eyes narrowed. “Why don’t you spill your guts to me?” she challenged.
Ten shrugged as if that was no tall order. “What do you want to know?”
“Just the basics,” she said, eyes raking over his face.
“Okay. I’m thirty-five, single, I live in D.C. but I was born in Virginia,” he placed his hand on his chest. “I attended the University of Virginia where I earned a master’s degree in literature.”
“Literature?” asked Lana skeptically. “What can you do with a master’s in literature?”
“Exactly,” said Ten, grinning. “So I parlayed my interest in filmmaking into a career. I love books and writers. I focus on literary themes.”
“Do your parents also love books and writers?”
“Not particularly. Why?” he asked out of curiosity.
“They named you Tennison after Tennyson, the poet, right?”
Ten laughed. “That’s a funny story. Let me preface this by saying my parents really love kids.”
Lana burst out laughing. A ridiculous reason had come to her of why he’d been named Tennison, but she had a hard time believing it. “No,” she interrupted him, “Don’t tell me you’re the tenth son: Ten is son...Tennison?”
“Not the tenth son, but I am the tenth child, and the last. Thank God. My parents have six sons and four daughters. I’m the baby of the family.”
Lana was laughing so hard tears were rolling down her cheeks. “I’m sorry if I’m being insensitive. Just the notion that your parents named you Tennison because you were their tenth child is so...sweet.”
“Nice save,” Ten said, laughing along with her. “But you’re being too kind. It’s my guess that by the tenth child, with two sets of twins among them, they were running out of names and brain cells. Naming me Tennison is an easy way to remember I’m number ten.”
Lana wiped her tears away. “Do you still have all your brothers and sisters?”
“Yeah,” said Ten. “And my parents. Believe me, when we get together for family reunions it’s quite a production.”
“How many nieces and nephews do you have?” Lana asked.
“Last count, twenty-seven,” Ten said without hesitation. “I’m the only one of my nine brothers and sisters who hasn’t had any children.”
“You’re a lucky man to have such a big family,” Lana said, smiling up at him.
They arrived in the lobby. Stepping out of the elevator, Ten glimpsed the same man they’d seen at the airport. He was sitting in the lounge area pretending to be engrossed in a magazine.
Ten didn’t allow his gaze to linger in case Lana, who had recently proven very perceptive, caught him observing the stranger. Then, he would have to explain himself.
“Now, will you let me drive you home?” he asked Lana.
Before Lana could reply, a shrill female scream erupted from the throat of a petite African-American woman bearing down on them. “Lana!”
Ten