Well, didn’t that just shoot a little dagger through her heart, thank you, child of her womb. Even Matt looked a little nonplussed; now he probably thought she boozed it up all day. Which she might have done on rare occasion, thanks to Ruth, her former best friend and consummate socialite booze hound. Rebecca forced a laugh. “Nanny,” she said above Grayson’s head, patting it a little too hard as she forced a smile.
“Ah,” said Matt. “So you didn’t run a natural habitat for birds and dogs and salamanders?”
Of all the—
“Joke,” he said, lifting a hand in response to her expression. “Just a joke.”
Well, well, perhaps Mr. Big Pants had what might almost pass for a sense of humor. “Very funny,” she said, unable to keep a small smile from her lips. “As a matter of fact, I’m sure you’ll be ecstatic to know that I have reconsidered my position on strip mining.”
“Have you?” he asked, nodding approvingly.
“It doesn’t appear to be the best campaign topic.”
“No? The team will be so disappointed.”
“Not to worry. I have another idea.” What was with her sweaty palms all of a sudden?
“Fantastic! So I am waiting with bated breath—what’s the idea?” he asked as she surreptitiously wiped her palms on Grayson’s shoulders.
“I’m not going to tell you. It’s a surprise.” Since when, she wondered?
“I don’t think I can take another of your surprises,” he said amicably, taking one last step so that he was standing just before her and Grayson, his gray eyes gleaming.
“Really? How interesting—I would think you could take quite a lot. I mean, any lawyer worth his tort claims should be able to handle a surprise now and then.”
“True. But even lawyers have a limit of how many surprises per person they can take.” Now that he was standing so close, too close—that gleam in his eye looked almost devilish, and it made her wonder, insanely, how many women must have looked into those eyes and felt as warm as she did. Matt’s gaze dipped to her lips. “So I guess it depends on what you have up your . . . sleeve,” he said as his eyes dropped lower.
“You’ll have to wait and see,” she said with a stiff shrug, and toyed with the idea of hurling herself through the window just to get some air.
“Promises, promises,” he said with a sly wink.
Rebecca suddenly wanted someone, anyone—janitor, delivery guy, policeman—to join them, and looked away, pushed her hair behind her ears, cleared her throat, and asked, “So where is the meeting?”
“Back room. You might want to wait up here until someone comes to get your son. Grayson, right?” he asked, flashing a smile at Gray.
The deep flush beneath her skin began to recede as Rebecca looked at Grayson, then at Matt. “No one is coming to get him. He’s here with me.”
A look of confusion passed over Matt’s face. “We’re working.”
“Yes. But he’s very well-mannered.”
“My teacher says I have good cizinship,” Grayson reported.
“That’s great!” Matt said to him, but then to Rebecca, “It’s really not a good idea. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover today.”
Well, here was a shocker—Matt didn’t think her idea was a good one. “Yes, I understand why you might be concerned. I mean, he’s only five,” she said, and Grayson helpfully held up five fingers. “But the thing is, I’m a volunteer. Which means no one is paying me. So there’s no one paying a babysitter, either, and I’m spending time here that I would normally spend with my son. Therefore, he’s here with me.”
Matt opened his mouth to say something, but they both heard the front door open at that moment and turned expectantly toward the door. Grayson took the opportunity to wriggle from Rebecca’s grip on his shoulders.
“Rebecca!” Tom boomed the moment he laid eyes on her from the doorway. Behind him was Gilbert, crowding in to peek over Tom’s shoulder. “Who is this young man?” Tom exclaimed, walking into the room with Gilbert practically on his back. “No, don’t tell me—he looks exactly like Bud!”
Rebecca felt that inward wince. “This is Grayson,” she said. “Grayson, say hello to Senator Masters.”
“Hello,” Grayson repeated, the darling little cherub.
“Dude!” Gilbert said. “Give me five!” He squatted down, held up his hand; Grayson happily wound up and shot across the floor to slap Gilbert’s hand with all the strength in his stocky little body. Gilbert rocked back on his sandals for a moment, and then rolled over onto his back, playing dead, much to Grayson’s delight, and that, of course, was all Gilbert had to do to make a friend. Grayson was instantly laughing and climbing over his dead body, until Gilbert suddenly shot up and hoisted Grayson onto his shoulders to take him for a ride.