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Authors: Donna McDonald

Tags: #Romance and Humor

DAC_II_GenVers_Sept2013 (3 page)

BOOK: DAC_II_GenVers_Sept2013
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And Harrison? Harrison would have a massive stroke laughing his ass off at a bare-chested photo of him in a cheesy beefcake calendar.

“Hey—tall guy in the dirty t-shirt.”

Grinning about his grandfather’s keen sense of irony, Walter stopped and pointed to his chest, grinning more when the photographer nodded.

“Do you mind helping me?” the man asked.

Accompanied by a chorus of jokes thrown his way about how cute and photogenic he was in his dirty clothes, Walter walked to the fire engine and stood where the man requested. He watched as the photographer bent, looked through the lens, then stood and glanced around.

“We need something to fill out the space. Got a jacket? Or maybe a hat and an axe? A big axe? Biggest thing you got,” the photographer said.

Snickering like a kid in middle school over the man’s unintentional innuendo, Walter lifted the door of one of the boxes on the side of the engine behind him. He took out a hat, and then pulled the giant fire axe they used to break through walls from its hanger. Hefting it without grunting was the reason he’d been lifting weights for years. He closed the box with a bang that brought all eyes to him as he turned back.

“Will these do?” Walter asked, mouth twisted in a smirk despite the little voice in his head lecturing him to act mature.

“Yes. Great. Can you stand the axe handle down, but blade up, without it cutting you?” the photographer asked.

Walter nodded and laughed as he complied.


Excellent.
I wish all guys were as sharp as you. Now perch the hat on the side of the axe—yes, just like that. That’s fantastic. Now lean it out just a bit to your right,” the photographer ordered, leaning down to the lens again. “Now hold it. . .yes, right there. Perfect.”

Fascinated with the un-glamorous pose the guy was orchestrating, Walter smirked again as he heard the camera clicking away. Someone yelled “
My, Walter, what a big axe you have
” which caused him to belly laugh as he raised his head to look for the culprit. The photographer said nothing about his movement, just kept snapping away. Walter chuckled at several of his now oiled up fellow firemen rubbing their chests and making kissing motions to him as they looked on.

“Laugh all you want, dudes.
I’m
not the one covered in cooking oil. And I still have on all my clothes.” Walter thumped his chest with his fist and swept a hand down over his t-shirt, cackling when several oily middle fingers were raised in his direction.

His smile was wide with amusement as he struck a model pose with the axe to heckle them, sliding the edge of his shirt halfway up his stomach as they whooped and hollered for him to take it all the way off.

“Are you kidding? None of you guys are pretty enough to see me naked,” Walter declared, lowering his shirt as he gave his full attention back to the photographer. “Need me anymore?”

The photographer shook his head from side-to-side. “Thanks for the help. What’s your name? You’re not on my calendar roster, are you?”

Walter snickered again as he shook his head. “No. My parents would kill me if I posed for the calendar.”

The photographer laughed and pulled a business card out of his pocket. “How would they feel if you wore suits instead? Modeling can be quite lucrative with looks like yours.”

“If that’s a come on, don’t bother, dude. I’m straight,” Walter said easily. He shrugged and grinned when the guy’s laugh echoed off the walls.

“So am I, Mr. . . are you going to tell me your name?”

The photographer was smiling wickedly now. Thinking the guy had to be gay regardless of what he said, Walter wasn’t keen on giving up his name, but it wasn’t like he couldn’t handle the attention. His family had excelled at being in the public eye, even though his mother often lamented his tendency to just say what he thought. Discretion was hard for him and he didn’t see that it ever helped matters much.

“The name is Graham. Walter Graham. I’m not interested in being a model, Mr. . .” Walter paused and looked down at the business card in his fingers, “. . .Ames. I’m working on my MBA and just recently bought a business. Between that and firefighting, I’m completely booked for work.”

He tried to hand the business card back, but Marcus Ames,
Artistic Photographer
—whatever that meant, shook his head and held up a hand.

“Keep it, kid. You never know when you’ll need extra cash,” Ames said, saluting. “Thanks for helping me set up the shoot.”

Walter watched Ames look around the firehouse until his gaze landed on the growing group of oiled, grinning men waiting for their turn in front of the camera.


Mr. January
? I’m ready for you,” Ames yelled.

Still questioning the man’s sexual leanings, Walter snorted and tucked the guy’s card into his pocket. At least helping Ames would be a good story to tell Harrison over dinner that evening.

***

“You should be proud of me, Harrison. Today I turned down a chance to be in the fundraising calendar. I was feeling pretty righteous until I realized I had also passed up a chance to let the photographer’s cute assistant rub oil on my chest. That wouldn’t have happened a few months ago. Maybe I should just move on like Jane says.”

Walter frowned at his own story, remembering the twenty-something woman who had slipped her phone number into his pocket right next to her employer’s business card. The handwritten note about what she had in mind for their hookup was certainly creative. She had been very cute too. But neither her nor her wicked suggestion had made him twitchy enough to follow up.

And it was all Jane Fox’s fault. Her and her tight skirts. Or baggy work pants covering hips that swayed when she walked. Or those shorts she wore to the picnic in the park that showed the sleekest, most inviting thighs he had ever seen on a woman. He’d do just about anything for a single slide between them just to see if they were as nice as they looked. He would slowly, very slowly lift her legs behind her knees and wrap all that silkiness around his waist.

“If you did that, Leland and April would probably kill you, even if you are their only child,” Harrison said, sipping his half ounce of cognac as he fought not to laugh at his grandson’s guilty flush.

“What? How would they
. .
.” Walter stopped, rubbing his chin stubble as he remembered what they had been discussing.
Wow. His mind had certainly taken a side trip from the original conversation. Jane’s thighs were highly distracting.
“You mean the calendar? Yeah. . .you’re right. Mom and Dad would have a fit if I posed for it.”

“What did you think I was talking about?” Harrison demanded on a laugh. “Wine going to your head, Walter?”

“No.” Walter closed his eyes, but all he saw was the woman that he couldn’t get to give him a freaking chance. “Sorry I’m so distracted tonight. It’s not the company. I’ve just had a lot on my mind lately.”

Harrison waved away Walter’s apology. At his age, it was the little things in life that made it worth staying alive. Having his grandson’s company at dinner was one of the best ones. Of course, some great-grandchildren with genius IQs might be nice too.

He smiled when Walter’s loud sigh of frustration drowned out Tchaikovsky’s violins in the background. Only one thing was going to soothe the boy. Only one woman had the power. God, how well he remembered that feeling. Probably a hundred women had passed through his life, but memories of only one woman would follow him to the grave.

“What’s upsetting you, Walter? Jane still holding out on you?” he asked.

“Yes. And I think I’m obsessed. There’s been no woman in my life for months, but I didn’t jump at the chance to change that today when I could have. Worse, I wasn’t even tempted. All I can think about is Jane, but I know she’s dating other men. Why am I not dating other women? What’s wrong with this picture?” Walter complained, laughing as he pounded his forehead. He picked up his half-finished wine and took another sip.

Smiling into his own glass, Harrison sipped his cognac slowly, savoring every drop. “You’ve got a hereditary disease, Walter Graham. I was a little bit older than you when it happened to me. I dated and dated and dated, but my dick just wasn’t interested. It wanted your grandmother. There were no substitutes.”

After his initial shock had morphed into mortification, Walter laughed at Harrison’s crude explanation, fighting not to choke on his discomfort. His face flamed at the ludicrous idea, but inside there was a tiny voice asking if such a thing could be the truth. His face flushed harder at Harrison’s low laughter. Maybe he was starting to understand all the warnings his dad kept giving him about his grandfather’s crazy theories.

“I don’t think I’m old enough to be having this conversation, Harrison. Get back to me when I’m forty,” Walter said, setting down his wine. He’d obviously had enough to drink for one evening. Maybe he wasn’t hearing correctly. It had been a discouraging day all around.

“It doesn’t surprise me that you would scoff at the possibility, Walter. Since your father was a scientist, he didn’t believe me at first either. Leland even went to a doctor to be checked. They ran all kinds of tests, and of course came back with nothing physically wrong with his equipment. Hell, Leland had chased girls since he was thirteen. Your grandmother and I lived in fear that he was going to forget protection one day. When I finally figured out what was going on, April was already engaged to someone else. All his fancy degrees didn’t help him see his problem. I love him dearly, but Leland was never all that smart about practical things.”

Walter laughed and rubbed his face. “Is there a point to this story? And can you explain it without a description of Dad’s potentially defective man parts?”

Harrison shook his head, grinning at Walter’s discomfort. “It’s a Graham physical failing, Walter. Only one we really have. I call it one-woman-dick-itis.”

Walter laughed out loud at the term. Really there was nothing else to do. Harrison had told him some crazy things over the years, but this one was near the top of the unbelievable list. Maybe at eighty, all it took was a swallow or two of cognac to make you stupid drunk. That had to be Harrison’s excuse for the zany story. Nothing else explained it. But he bit anyway, as he always did with Harrison.

“Are you trying to tell me that I’m not going to be able to get it up for any woman but Jane Fox? I’m gone on her—sure—but I can’t see that being the case with me. She’s not the only woman in the world, Harrison. The woman today was just as physically attractive,” Walter said.

Harrison made a face and nodded. “You’d think that because you’re a confident man, and because you don’t know how bad it can be. Every time your father tried to fool around with someone else, his equipment failed him. I tried to tell him that it just doesn’t work that way. His mind had chosen a woman and his body was just backing it up. Being a scientist though, Leland had to fail quite a bit before he accepted it as a fact. It was almost too late by the time he came to me for help.”

“Are you telling me my world-renowned physicist father, Leland Graham, not only bought into your one woman theory, but also asked you for help?”

“Yes. That was right before he broke up your mother’s engagement. Did he ever tell you about that? He planted himself in front of April until her fiancé came around, then Leland kissed her like he owned her. Your father took a punch to the chin for it and got knocked on his brainy ass. April ran to his side and her fiancé dumped her for being sympathetic. Never been more proud of your father, not even when he was nominated for that hoity-toity science award,” Harrison said, grinning at the memory as the last of his cognac slid down smoothly.

“The hoity-toity science award was the Nobel Prize in Physics, Harrison,” Walter said, leaning back in his chair to shake his head. “And Dad said he married Mom because she was the only woman who understood how important his work was to him.”

Harrison snorted at the vanilla story. “Bullshit. What he told you was pure crapola. Leland Graham was smitten and stupid with it. He kept your mother in bed for six months after he broke up her engagement, and married her as soon as he could to make sure she stayed there. Whatever it was April was looking for in a man, Leland made sure she found it in him. I’ve questioned a lot of things about your father over the years, but his love for your mother has never been one of them. They still have the same kind of love between them that I had with your grandmother. I only wish your Aunt Rue would have gotten that lucky. I’m hoping you do and that I live long enough to see it.”

“Not that I’m really buying any of this, but since we’re talking about how to get someone’s attention, got any ideas how to get Jane to give me a chance?” Walter asked.

Harrison shook his head. “Not yet. . .but I’m working on it.”

Walter climbed to his feet feeling light-headed. He rarely drank, and tried to keep it to red wine or a couple of beers when he did. His system just didn’t handle alcohol well. He hoped the wine didn’t give him a hangover tomorrow. The eco architects were coming by to examine the grounds at North Winds.

“Headed back to my place now, Harrison. Need anything before I go?” Walter asked.

“Just a hug,” Harrison replied, stretching up a little as his grandson bent to him. “Goodnight, Walter. Thanks for listening to an old coot’s stupid theories.”

“Goodnight, Harrison. See you at the office tomorrow. Don’t be in a hurry unless you want to watch me train Amanda.”

Harrison shook his head. “No need. You made a good decision there.”

Walter nodded. “Thanks. I had a good feeling about her. If she works out, I can focus all my energy on the renovations. I really didn’t want to deal with residence problems. It took about two days for that to become completely clear to me. I don’t know how Jane did it.”

“Jane is a special kind of person,” Harrison said, waving goodbye as Walter nodded, sighed, and closed the door behind him.

***

Jane checked her watch again. Her date had excused himself twenty minutes ago and hadn’t returned. She drummed her fingers on the table, wondering what she would have to tip the waiter to get him to check on him in the restroom. The restaurant was in the process of closing. Only two tables with customers were left and she sat at one of them.

BOOK: DAC_II_GenVers_Sept2013
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