A Keen Edge

By Harold Lowry

To the outside world, thirty-seven-year-old Scott Daven has the perfect life. He's handsome, rich, a successful businessman and politician with a wife and three sons who adore him. When his father hires a young architect to be his assistant, Scott fights his attraction to the young man. Losing this struggl

• Language: English
• Publisher: Spine Media Creatives
• Release date: Feb 13, 2023
• ISBN: 9798888621196

Book preview

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Epilogue

Chapter 1

I don’t want you to run for the state senate, Scott Daven’s father said with the impatience of a man unused to having his opinions disregarded. You can’t spend several months a year in Raleigh and run this firm like I have.

They were seated in his father’s luxurious office. As the CEO and chairman of the board of Daven & Son, Architects, Randall Daven had arrogated to himself all the privileges and comforts of his position. The room was dominated by dark mahogany, dark leather, and dark brocade curtains and oriental rugs. Even the Tiffany-style lamps contributed to the softened light that made Scott feel like he was in the library of his father’s exclusive men’s club. It seemed like a social solecism to raise his voice.

That’s why I’m taking a year off from politics, Scott explained. It’ll give me time to settle into your job and hire an assistant. I know taking time away from the firm makes you uneasy, but I’ve got everything under control. There won’t be anything to keep you from retiring on schedule.

His father laughed comfortably. At sixty-eight and after a career as head of the most prominent architectural firm in North Carolina, he felt impervious to the requirements or expectations of those around him. He was his own barometer of success. His thick, brown hair showed few signs of grey. His wiry body still retained much of its youthful vigor and rigid posture. His manner was almost courtly, a result of a lifetime of wealth and privilege, but his brain was alert and his competitive spirit just as strong as it was when he struck out on his own forty-one years ago.

I have no intention of staying on a minute longer than planned, his father said. Your mother would divorce me if I tried.

Nearly everyone in Charlotte believed Randall and Amelia Daven enjoyed a storybook romance. Married for forty-two years, Amelia gave the appearance of a woman who thought her husband was infallible and was happy to stand at his side whenever asked. Only her son and two daughters knew their mother appeared when she was told, did as she was told, said what she was told to say. At all other times, she stayed out of sight.

Scott was a younger and more attractive version of his father. Tall and slender from exercise as well as careful eating habits, his dark hair and patrician features were the result of his mother’s genes moderating the effects of her husband’s somewhat angular features. Some might have thought Scott was almost too handsome to be really masculine, but his athleticism as well as his strong, assertive personality easily counterbalanced any such feeling. Scott dressed well and was impeccably groomed, as benefitted a man of his position, but he was equally at home on the tennis court or the golf course.

I’ve never understood why you want to waste your time serving an ungrateful public, Scott’s father grumbled, but I figured you weren’t going to stop now so I hired an assistant for you.

Scott sat bolt upright in the deeply cushioned chair. How could you do that without me knowing?

His father laughed, clearly pleased with himself. I conducted the interviews away from the office. I had him over here when you and Ben were in Indianapolis.

Has anyone in the office met him?

They all have, his father replied, even more pleased. You didn’t think I’d hire a man without letting everybody give him the once over, did you?

"You didn’t let me give him the once over, and I’m supposed to work with him. Scott was finding it difficult to conceal his anger. He knew he ought to appreciate his father’s thoughtfulness, but despite how well his father knew him after working in the same office for fifteen years, he didn’t feel his dad knew him well enough to hire a partner without at least discussing it with him. But that was his dad all over. He always knew what was best for everyone. I didn’t want my political ambitions to impact the firm," Scott said. It was too late to make any other complaint.

I didn’t do it just because you intend to run for the state senate, his father said. You’ll be taking over my position in a few weeks. You don’t really think you can do your job as well as mine, do you?

Even if Scott had thought he could, he wouldn’t have said so. His father would have laughed in his face.

He’s supposed to be here now, his father said, consulting his watch. He leaned across the broad expanse of his meticulously organized desk and switched on the intercom. Gwyn, is Mr. Phelan here?

He’s been here for the last twenty minutes, Randall’s private secretary replied. Are you ready to see him?

Send him in.

I didn’t know you were even looking at résumés, Scott said.

Randall leaned back in his chair. I wasn’t, but Bill Cooper told me this young man was interested in leaving his old firm. He has an impressive résumé.

What has he done? Scott asked, struggling not to show his simmering resentment.

Nothing you would have heard of, but Bill said the boy has a great future. I figured we could give him a try.

Scott swallowed a response that would only have angered his father. He reminded himself, as he did at least once a week, that Daven & Son was his father’s creation, a company he’d built by his own work and vision. He’d never asked for or welcomed advice. That included any idea that was contrary to his own. Years of unbroken success had convinced Randall he was nearly infallible. Scott had to admit his father rarely made a mistake.

As much as it angered him to have an assistant hired without being consulted, he owed it to his father to meet the man with an open mind. Scott had no idea what to expect his father’s choice would be like – Scott had done most of the hiring for the last ten years – but he was unprepared for the young man Randall’s private secretary ushered into the office.

Maybe his defenses were down because he was so focused on his anger at his father. Maybe he’d gotten careless because it had been years since any man had attracted his interest for more than a short time. Maybe he’d gotten complacent because he’d been so successful at repressing that part of him.

Whatever the reason, he felt paralyzed, unable to move or speak, barely able to think.

Neil Phelan was as close to being the epitome of the all-American male as anyone Scott had ever seen. He was well over six feet tall, about two hundred pounds, and had a build somewhere between that of a rugby player and a soccer player. Blond with intense blue eyes and shoulders that challenged the seams of his lightweight summer suit, he walked with the easy gait of an athlete. His smile caused his whole face to light up with an enthusiasm that could only be described as boyish. Yet everything about him radiated the essence of a man, mature and in his prime. All his life Scott had been called the golden boy, the guy who was the smartest, most handsome, most athletic, and most popular. Everyone said he was the perfect culmination of money, breeding, education, and social position. One look at Neil Phelan, and he felt like he’d been rendered insignificant. Come in, Scott’s father said. I want you to meet my son. You’ll be working directly under him.

The defense mechanisms Scott had built and honed to perfection over the years kicked in and his self-control began to reassert itself. Feeling only slightly overwhelmed by the flawlessness of this young man, he rose to his feet. How could his father expect any man this good-looking to be worth a damn? All he had to do was smile, and people would think concrete boxes were works of art. Neil extended his hand.

I’m looking forward to working with you, Neil said to Scott. I hope you don’t consider me too young and inexperienced. His voice was a deep, steady baritone.

Forgive me if I look a bit stunned, Scott said, but I’d never heard your name until five minutes ago.

A shadow crossed Neil’s brow. He turned to Scott’s father.

Don’t worry. You two will get along fine. It sounded more like an order than an opinion. Now tell him your age.

Twenty-six, Neil said.

Old enough to have mastered the basics, Scott’s father said, but not so set in his ways he can’t consider new ideas.

I’ve only been out of graduate school three years, but I’m willing to work hard to prove I deserve a place at Daven & Son.

With fifteen years of experience at his back, Scott considered himself past the point of taking on a virtual apprentice as a partner. Still struggling to keep his irritation from showing, he replied, I look forward to getting to know you.

Neil’s smile remained fixed, but his expression froze; his gaze turned apprehensive.

Oblivious to the tension between the two men, Scott’s father said, Don’t let your inexperience bother you. Bill Cooper gave you a glowing recommendation. That, along with your résumé and transcript, convinced me you would be perfect for the job.

I’m sure you will be, Scott said to Neil. I apologize for not appearing more welcoming. My father wanted this to be a surprise. He was quite successful.

Neil’s expression eased slightly. I’ll be happy to work with someone else if that will make you more comfortable.

With his emotions finally under control, Scott said, I’m sure you’ll live up to everything Bill Cooper said about you. I’m planning to run for the state senate next year, and my father is about to retire. I knew we’d have to hire someone, but I expected to have a hand in it.

You have enough on your hands with that damned shopping center, his father said. At least the police found the man who tried to burn it down.

I’m glad the damage was minimal, Neil said. That was a brilliant design.

Scott schooled his face to impassivity. He had received praise for his design, but it was possible Neil was trying to flatter his new boss. Have you found a place to live yet? Scott’s father asked Neil.

I’m buying one of the condos in the new building going up a block from here.

That won’t be finished for at least a month, Scott said.

I know, but I couldn’t turn down the chance to live so close to my work. I’ll stay in a motel until then.

That’s got to be uncomfortable.

It’s only for a month.

It could be six or eight weeks, Scott’s father said. A single guy doesn’t need much.

You aren’t married? Scott didn’t know why he asked that question. It had nothing to do with the man’s qualifications for the job.

Divorced.

I hate to think of you staying in a motel for a month or two, Scott said.

It’s really quite comfortable. I have a suite with—

The crack of Randall’s palm slapping the desk startled both Scott and Neil. You can stay in Vincent’s apartment until your condo is ready, Randall said with a smile of satisfaction at having arrived at the solution to a problem that vexed him. It’s a perfect place for you.

Realizing Neil didn’t have a clue what his father was talking about, Scott brushed aside his anger at his father’s continued interference in his life. I live in a large, old house my grandfather built, he explained. We have a garage separate from the house. Years ago the upstairs was converted into an apartment for my Uncle Vincent.

I can’t stay there, Neil said to Scott.

Of course you can, Randall said without a thought for his son’s convenience.

It would practically be like having a stranger move into your house.

Nonsense, Randall said, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture. The garage is so far from the house you could hold wild parties and Scott wouldn’t know. There’s no reason for you to pay rent when that place isn’t being used. Besides, you’d be close enough to consult with Scott without having to come to the office.

It’s kind of you, sir, but I really can’t do that.

Randall made a gesture like he was shooing away annoying birds. Take him away and convince him he’s being foolish, he said to his son.

Let’s go to my office, Scott said to Neil, still struggling to conceal his annoyance at having Neil forced on him at home as well at the office. That’s my father’s gentle way of saying he’s put up with me long enough for one day.

I really can’t accept your father’s generous offer, Neil said as they were on their way to Scott’s office.

Of course you can, Scott said, wishing he could think of a graceful way to agree with Neil. It’s the most logical and practical solution.

Neil looked uncomfortable. Are you sure it won’t be an imposition on you?

Of course not, Scott said with a show of goodwill he didn’t feel. As Dad said, I’ll have you at my beck and call.

Calling upon the discipline he’d developed through years of working with his father and dealing with ill-natured and demanding clients, Scott purged himself of his anger. Once his father retired, Neil’s future would be in his hands. If the guy worked out, fine. If not, it wouldn’t be a problem to shift him to someone else, assign him work on his own, or let him go. Neil seemed a nice fellow, anxious to please and reluctant to avail himself to his employer’s hospitality. It was only fair that Scott give him the benefit of the doubt.

But intuition warned Scott it wasn’t going to be that simple. He’d felt an immediate attraction to Neil, a physical pull so strong and so unlike any he’d ever felt it shocked him. He’d been attracted to a few men over the years but had rigorously repressed the feelings. Whenever he thought about it – he tried never to think about it – he assumed he would get over it someday.

He was used to liking or disliking people on his first meeting, but his reaction to Neil was more encompassing than that. He felt like an immediate connection had formed between them, that Neil had already become an important part of his life. That they’d just met was immaterial. He would have been the first to say that was ridiculous as well as impossible, but that’s how he felt. Neil was eleven years younger and single. Scott had been married for sixteen years and had three sons. They would have nothing in common. It was ridiculous to think they would ever be more than co-workers.

I’ll introduce you to the rest of the guys, Scott said. Then we’ll set up a time for you to come out and see the apartment.

I really don’t want to–

Dad insists so there’s no point arguing about it, Scott said. Besides, it makes sense.

Thanks. Some of the tension appeared to leave Neil’s body. His smile was more genuine, his eyes less strained. It would be nice to save a little money. Divorces are expensive.

Scott liked the way Neil accepted his father’s offer with a genuine appreciation that was devoid of any saccharine expression of thanks or pretense of indifference. His father was right. He was going to like Neil Phelan. Now if he could just get these other feelings under control.

* * * * *

I’ll be at my desk by eight-thirty, the office manager told Neil after his meeting with Scott Daven. I’ll show you around and give you the keys to everything. Save any questions you have for me. I don’t like to bother the bosses if I can take care of it.

Sure, Neil said. Anything else I should know?

Plenty, the office manager said with a motherly smile, but that can wait until tomorrow. Do you know the way to Scott’s house?

Just give me the address. I have GPS.

Neil wrote down the address, thanked the office manager, and left the building. Once outside he exhaled a huge breath and some of the tension left his body. What in hell had he gotten himself into now?

The bright sunshine of an April morning nearly blinded him to the traffic that filled the streets. Lunchtime. Why were people driving instead of walking? It seemed crazy to him. That’s why he wanted a condo near the office. That reminded him of his impending visit to Scott’s house. He turned and began walking toward the city parking lot where he’d left his car on the seventh level, in the last space available. He had three hours before he was supposed to be at Scott’s house. That ought to be enough time to come up with a reason he couldn’t stay there.

It had taken only one look at Scott for Neil to know he was in deep trouble. How could he have anticipated that his boss would be the most beautiful man he’d ever seen? How could he work next to him day after day without doing something to reveal that he was lusting after the man who held his future in his hands? His desire for men had been the reason for his divorce, the reason he’d had to find a job as far away from his ex-wife as possible. He’d come to Charlotte with every intention of avoiding the kind of trouble that had brought an end to his marriage. Why, then, on the first day, did he have to meet a man who caused his heart to thump in his chest, his breath to become labored, his groin to swell? And why did that man have to be his boss?

Scott’s image was so vivid in Neil’s mind he stumbled over the curb. He would have to learn to pick up his feet, or he could end up with a twisted ankle.

Like many blonds, he felt his face lacked character, that his blue eyes were pale and uninteresting. His straw-colored hair was straight and as likely to fall in his eyes as stay atop his head. How could anybody like him not be mesmerized by Scott’s dramatic looks? His dark brown hair was thick, wavy, and ruthlessly parted on the left side. Sable brows and lashes stood out against clear skin that showed the healthy glow of a body in its prime. His deep brown eyes were large and warm. His nose was clean and straight, the jaw firm, and chin neatly chiseled, but it was the mouth that nearly caused Neil to embarrass himself by staring.

There was only a faint hint of a pout, only a slightly larger than normal fullness to his lips, a nearly imperceptible tinge of color, the faint gleam of moisture. Not enough to detract from his masculinity; more than enough to cause Neil’s stomach to turn over, his own tongue to moisten his lips. Never had he seen a mouth he felt more desperate to kiss. And that was the reason he couldn’t stay in Scott’s garage apartment.

Neil entered the parking garage, and the elevator opened almost immediately. Three women exited, all talking at once. He entered quickly and punched the button for the seventh floor. The door closed and the elevator began to rise with a muffled whine.

Neil didn’t allow himself to imagine anything could come of this absurd infatuation. That’s what it had to be. A silly crush on a handsome guy like he’d had when he was in high school and was petrified someone might guess his feelings. Like he’d had in college when he pretended to be straight, all the while wishing he had the guts to find someone to help him release the tensions that often kept him awake late into the night.

He’d have to be insane to think anything could happen between him and Scott. The man was married with three kids. There was no reason to believe he was anything other than a devoted husband and father, the ideal American man.

Just my luck thought Neil as he exited the elevator and walked to his car. I married an all-American girl, and she divorced me. Now I’m trying not to fall in love with an all-American guy who’s a happily married family man. Can I do anything more stupid?

* * * * *

Even before he reached Scott’s driveway, Neil felt he had been thrust back into his ex-wife’s world. The branches of ancient oaks intertwined seventy-five feet above the street creating a cool, shaded avenue which enhanced the aloof detachment of the houses situated well back from the road on spacious lots. Large areas of open lawn, professionally designed and maintained, showcased houses worthy of an appearance in Architectural Digest. Brick walls, high holly hedges, and deep azalea beds separated the houses and guarded their privacy from passing motorists.

Neil pulled into a driveway paved with rust-red bricks in a herringbone pattern. Twenty-five yards farther the bordering hedge fell away from the driveway and he got his first look at the house. The main block was seven windows wide and three stories with dormers. Smaller blocks on each side gave the house balance and softened the immensity of the central block.

Faced in cream-colored brick with white trim and a grey hip roof, the house looked baronial without being overbearing. The carving of the entrance surround and the window above served to give focus to the whole.

A hundred yards later, and feeling more uncomfortable than ever, he pulled his car to a stop under the shade of a large sugar maple tree. The doors to a triple garage were open revealing the presence of a Mercedes, a Lincoln Navigator, and a Jaguar. Neil’s Buick looked like a poor relation. More certain than ever that he couldn’t accept Scott’s hospitality, he opened the car door and got out.

From the sound of raised voices coming from somewhere behind the house, it was apparent a group of young men were engaged in some sort of competition. Hopeful that a neighborhood game of touch football or soccer would divert attention from him, Neil headed toward the path that led to the lawn behind the house.

A large terrace connected the house to a pool lined with blue tiles. Beyond the pool a tennis court had been converted into a basketball court. A woman Neil assumed to be Scott’s wife sat under a wisteria-covered arbor by the pool with a book in her hands. On the court, a man and three boys were engaged in an energetic game of basketball, two against two.

Neil paused just out of sight, unwilling to interrupt the family’s privacy. Deciding he ought to leave and come back later, he backed up a step but got no farther. He realized with a sickening thud that he would never have what he was seeing – a wife, sons, family. For the rest of his life he would always be on the outside looking in.

He told himself he ought to go, that there was no reason to hang around when he didn’t intend to take the apartment, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t explain why the scene held him with such a firm grasp. It wasn’t his attraction to Scott, even though seeing him hot and sweaty without a shirt was stirring his blood. It was that he was seeing the American dream, the perfect husband, wife, sons – he knew Scott had no daughters – the perfect house, and the financial resources to make their world so free of worry that the four males could devote their energy to the meaningless exercise of attempting to throw a ball through a round hoop. Mrs. Daven could read her book in the shade knowing her family was safe, secure, and provided for.

They could love each other without fear of the cost being too great.

A sharp bark brought Neil back to an awareness of his surroundings. He glanced down to see a miniature greyhound – a dog so fragile it looked too heavy for its own bones – taking exception to his invasion of the yard. It was too late to escape. Mrs. Daven had seen him, had laid aside her book, and was coming toward him.

Chapter 2

Hello, she said, her hand outstretched. I’m Paula Daven. You must be Neil Phelan."

Neil hung back. I don’t want to intrude.

You aren’t. Be quiet, Trixie. The little dog subsided but didn’t take her eyes off Neil. She thinks she’s a guard dog, Paula explained, but her mother forgot to tell her she was only twelve inches high. Come on over. She indicated Scott and the boys. They won’t stop until they’re too tired to stand up.

Paula Daven wasn’t a classically beautiful woman, but she had an arresting appearance. Neil’s years with his ex-wife had taught him enough to know her clothes were as expensive as they were simple and that her makeup had been applied with the hand of an expert. She wore her straight, brown hair in a page boy and walked with the ease of a woman who kept herself in good physical condition. Her manner was welcoming but cool, smiling but restrained. Maybe it was familiarity or lack of involvement, but she seemed dismissive of her husband and sons.

You’ve got three fine-looking sons, Scott said. I always wanted brothers. I was the youngest of six and the only boy.

Paula’s laugh was light, easy, polite. You poor soul. How did you survive?

Much too easily. Mom and Dad spoiled me and my sisters were even worse. By the time I was two, I was convinced the world revolved around me. Learning it didn’t has been an ongoing disappointment.

I’m so glad Randall hired you, Paula said, leading Neil into the backyard. Scott needs someone to make him laugh.

I’m sure he has a lot of responsibility, Neil said, still reluctant to interrupt the vigorous game. Scott’s wife made him uncomfortable. She was elegant and charming, but she seemed to be going through a well-rehearsed role. I’m depending on you to take some of it off his shoulders. Now come meet my family. Scott, Mr. Phelan is here. Put that ball down and come say hello.

Scott made a final toss at the basket, scored to the accompaniment of groans from two of his sons, turned, and trotted off the court.

Don’t get too close, Scott said when he approached Neil with outstretched hand. I smell.

I don’t want to stop your game, Neil said.

Thank God you did. I need a breather. Come meet the boys. Don’t tell them you ever did anything more athletic than lift a drawing pencil, or they’ll have you on the court in five minutes. Come here, fellas, Scott called to his sons. I want you to meet the man who’s going to stay in Great Uncle Vincent’s apartment.

The three boys that turned toward Neil looked like stair step versions of the same kid, all three with their father’s dark brown hair and eyes, shirtless torsos displaying more ribs than abs, baggy shorts that looked five sizes too large, and oversized shoes on big feet that indicated all three would grow to be as tall as their father. The contrast with their father whose torso featured easily discernable abs and whose short shorts hugged his hips was striking. While their chests were bare, a small triangle of hair in the center of Scott’s chest was balanced by a narrow trail down to his navel. Neil was certain he’d never seen a more attractive family.

I’m Scotty, the tallest boy said as he shook Neil’s hand.

I’m Eric.

I’m Lyle, said the youngest, the one who gets bullied by those two. The cheeky grin and the way his father mussed his hair indicated to Neil that Lyle was pretty happy with his position in the family.

Dad tells me you’re going to be staying in the old garage apartment, Scotty said.

Your grandfather offered, Neil said, but it’ll be better if I stay in a motel. I don’t want to get in your way.

You won’t get in our way, Scotty said. Granddad said you played soccer in college.

And tennis, Lyle added.

Deny it, Scott advised, or they’ll hold you hostage forever.

Do you play basketball? Eric asked.

You’re not going to drag him onto the court, their mother said. He’d ruin his clothes.

Leave him alone, boys, Scott said. He didn’t come here to play pickup basketball.

But if he’s going to live here, he can play with us when you’re gone, Lyle said.

"That’s if he can play, Scotty said, throwing down a challenge. We can’t let just anybody play with us. We’re pretty good."

The temptation was nearly irresistible. Neil had been a menopause baby, his youngest sister a teenager when he was born. He’d always told himself he was going to have at least three boys and spend as much time with them as he could. He’d have changed places with Scott in an instant.

Don’t be a fool. That wouldn’t work any more than your marriage did.

Think he can handle it? Lyle asked.

I don’t know, Scotty said, winking at Eric as he circled Neil giving him a close inspection. "He looks like he has muscles, but it could be fat from sitting at a drawing board all day."

It’s a squeeze play, Scott warned.

You’ve got to be better than Dad, Lyle said. You’re loads younger than he is.

Disloyalty in my own family, Scott said, faking shock.

I’m sure it would be fun, Neil said, but I came here to tell your dad I think it’s better if I stay in town.

Why? Lyle asked. His question was so honest, so lacking in guile, it disarmed Neil. Dad said it was only until your condo was ready.

Did you really play soccer in college? Scotty asked, changing the subject. Neil knew he shouldn’t, but the appeal of those big brown eyes was too much to resist. I played soccer and tennis. In between, I used to play pickup basketball at least a couple times a week.

Elated, Eric turned to father. He can help Scotty with his soccer and Lyle with tennis.

You’ve got to stay, Lyle said.

But only if he can play basketball, Eric added.

Should we give him a tryout? Scotty asked his brothers.

He didn’t come here to hang around with a bunch of kids, Scott said, attempting to come to the rescue.

The boys all made derisive noises.

Besides, he can’t play in the clothes he’s wearing.

Maybe he can squeeze into some of your shorts, Eric said.

Scott pounced on his son, rubbed his knuckles over the boy’s head to the accompaniment of giggles from Eric. I’m afraid you’ve been cornered, Scott said when Eric broke loose. Come with me. Maybe I can find something that’ll fit you.

I have my gym bag in the car, Neil said. I worked out at the YMCA this morning.

See, he’s already worn out, Scott said to the boys. You should ask him another time. Though he was ashamed to admit it, Scott was a little resentful of Neil’s intrusion into his time with his sons, their insistence that he join in their play. Just as unsettling was the flare-up of the attraction he’d experienced at the office that morning.

He doesn’t look worn out to me, Lyle said. Are you worn out?

Scott adored all his boys and rarely found any reason to criticize them, but he wished Lyle could learn to take a hint. Scotty said you had to hit Lyle over the head.

I’ll tell you what, Scott said. I’ll take him up to look at the apartment. That’ll give him a chance to think of a reason why he can’t play with you today.

But you’ll take your gym bag, won’t you, Lyle asked, in case you can’t think of an excuse?

Neil’s laugh was so warm and genuine, Scott felt some of his resentment melt away.

I’ll take my gym bag. And just in case I can’t think of an excuse, why don’t you see if you can round up a couple of tennis rackets.

I’ve got a dozen, Lyle said, his face brilliant with youthful exuberance. You can take your pick.

Let’s get out of here before my family embarrasses me completely, Scott said.

I’m flattered they want me to play, Neil said.

They’re just happy to have someone younger and more athletic than their father, Scott said as they started toward the garage that sat under towering oak trees at the back of the yard, tucked away in its own quiet corner, and nearly obscured by an enormous holly hedge.

Let me get my gym bag from the car.

You really don’t have to do that.

It’ll be fun. I haven’t played tennis in a while. He’ll probably beat me.

Don’t you dare let him beat you. I’ll never hear the end of it.

I’ll do my best. Be back in a minute, Neil said and headed toward his car. Paula came to stand next Scott. He seems nice.

I’ve never seen the boys take to anyone so quickly. Scott wasn’t thinking about the boys so much as himself. His burgeoning attraction to Neil made him nervous. Over the years he’d developed a tightly controlled persona that held his emotions on a short rein in business and politics, but he set it aside when he was home. This was the one time, the one place, he was vulnerable. Even though he had known Neil was coming by, even though he remembered the surge of attraction earlier that day, his guard had been down. When he looked up to see Neil talking to Paula, the attraction had exploded with such force he was almost dizzy. How could he survive more than a month of having Neil less than a hundred yards away?

Your father primed them ahead of time by telling them about his athletic achievements.

Just how much did that old buzzard say behind my back?

Paula’s look underscored her disapproval of his characterization of his father. He’s just trying to make things easier on you.

"I know, but you’d think