His Touch (8 page)

And that only shined a brighter light on all her shortcomings as a mother.

She walked into the lobby, barely nodded to the security guard and rode the elevator to her floor. Deep in her spiral of self-flagellation, she barely acknowledged the greetings called out from colleagues and settled in her office, pulling up specs and background information and her notes—such as they were, given everything that had taken her focus off this particular client.

She rose, fetched coffee and skimmed the notes, but her attention kept wandering to green eyes and stubbled cheeks.

“Kara, are you—Oh.” Mr. Drew opened her office door and frowned at her. “Wow. You look terrible.”

Stung, she managed a tiny smile. “Words every woman longs to hear.”

“Sorry, sorry. Are you okay?”

Tears almost drowned her but she managed to stop the deluge. She shook her head. “I called 911 last night. Nadia turned blue.”

“My God, Kara. What happened?” Her boss shut the door and took the seat near her desk, his handsome face creased with concern.

“Ah, croup, they told me. They kept her until about six this morning, gave her steroids and nebulizer treatments. She’s with my sister now.”

Mr. Drew angled his head and studied her for a long moment. “Kara, do you want this client? Be honest. If you don’t, I can—”

A wave of tears pressed on the dam she’d erected but she swallowed and held up a hand. “Mr. Drew, I
do
want this client. But the timing—”

“I understand. We’ll tell Saxon the truth. He asked for you by name. If he’s unwilling to wait, then—”

Gratitude rose up along with the tears and Kara trembled. “Thank you, sir.”

A knock on the door interrupted them. Tracy opened it and escorted Ronald T. Saxon inside.

“Mr. Saxon. Welcome.” Mr. Drew extended a hand. “This is Kara Larsen.”

Ronald T. Saxon was not what Kara had expected. She’d expected old money and an upper crust accent and privilege. That’s what her research had shown. But he was younger than she expected; no older than fifty. He wore slacks and an untucked shirt, sunglasses tucked carelessly into the open V at the neck. He had a full head of silver hair with a trim beard. He grinned and shook her hand. “Kara, it’s great to finally meet you. You have quite a reputation.”

Stunned, Kara stuttered. “Oh, um. Well, that’s flattering.”

He shook his head. “Flattery’s usually false. That wasn’t.” He sat down at one of the chairs in front of Kara’s desk, put a cardboard tray of Starbucks in front of them. “I bought four regulars. Help yourselves.”

Already at ease, Kara did. She stepped around to her chair and realized she really did want this client. She would find a way to make this work. While Kara and Mr. Drew sipped from the cardboard cups, Mr. Saxon pulled out a tablet and set it on Kara’s desk. He tapped the screen a few times and a photo appeared.

It was of a child. A little girl, not much older than Nadia, sitting in a wheelchair. Beside her was a model dressed as a cartoon princess. The child smiled like it was Christmas morning but the yellow tinge to her complexion made it clear she was critically ill.

“This is Marnie. She’s my neighbors’ little girl. They’ve got four children. The oldest is the same age as my son. I’ve known these folks for a long, long time. When Marnie was about three, she was diagnosed with a rare disorder.” Mr. Saxon frowned at his coffee cup for a long moment. “I won’t bore you with all the medical jargon but the net-net is Marnie died shortly after this picture was taken.”

Kara swallowed hard. Her emotions were already hovering way too close to the surface. Looking at pictures of a little girl who’d never grow up after spending the night in the hospital while her own daughter struggled to breathe was simply too much. Her eyes slipped closed and Mr. Saxon continued.

“After Marnie passed, we found out that a promising drug therapy might have saved her but it was mired in miles of government red tape. I want to fund research into treatment for kids like Marnie, get them access to the things that work as fast as we safely can.”

“The foundation you want to establish,” Kara said.

“Yes. Marnie’s Love.”

Kara smiled. “Okay. Tell us how you envision this foundation and how you’ll grant funding.”

Mr. Saxon dipped back into his case and pulled out a folder. “I’ve already spoken to my lawyers and set aside the funds for initial start-up costs, licenses and fees, and recruiting my board. Kara, I’ve heard you’re heavily involved in the September’s Families Guild. I want Marnie’s Love to operate on a similar basis.”

She winced. September’s Families had saved her after she lost her mother. She’d been a steady supporter and had volunteered countless hours to the cause. Since Nadia’s birth, Kara’s involvement had dwindled to almost nothing. These days, Elena devoted much of her free time to the cause, along with her new husband. “SFG is a non-profit foundation, Mr. Saxon. We could go that route but have you considered a donor-advised foundation instead?”

“You’re not the first to suggest a DAF but I don’t know much about them. What’s the advantage?”

“Immediate tax benefits plus it’s much easier to establish and manage from an administrative standpoint,” Kara responded. “We find a fiscal sponsor partner—an existing charitable non-profit who does all the heavy lifting. You set aside the funding and the plan for distributing those funds and the partner takes care of disbursing money according to the terms you specify. It could be to a single charity or numerous ones doing the kind of research you want to support.”

Kara’s cell phone buzzed. A quick glance at the screen and her heart twisted. “I’m sorry. I have to take this.” She answered the call without waiting for a reply from either gentleman. “Elena? What’s wrong?”

“Hi, Kara. Nadia has a fever. It’s 101. She has no other symptoms. I even checked her for rashes.”

Fever? She didn’t have a fever yesterday. Does croup cause fevers? Maybe it was her teeth. “Okay. Give her a dose of the baby acetaminophen and watch her. In three hours, if she’s still feverish, give her the ibuprofen dose, too.”

“Okay. Got it.”

“Thanks, Laney.”

When she ended the call, Kara found both men watching her, wearing twin looks of concern.

“Kara, you have a child who’s ill?”

She nodded. “Yes, Mr. Saxon. My daughter had to be rushed to the hospital last night. She’s doing much better today—or she was, until now. Apparently, she’s now running a fever.”

“How old is she?”

Kara reached for her phone again, tapped the screen and showed him a picture of Nadia she’d snapped just the other day. “Eighteen months old on the twenty-first. Her name’s Nadia.”

“Nadia,” he echoed. “How beautiful.” He stood up, gathered his papers and handed her the folder. “Go home, Kara. Take care of your daughter. This will wait until you’re ready.”

Touched, Kara nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

He stood up, coffee cup in one hand, case in the other. “Jonathan, thank you for arranging this meeting. Kara, I look forward to working with you. Keep the file. I want to know more about the DAF option you suggested.”

“I’ll find you a list of potential sponsors and we’ll go from there,” Kara agreed.

Mr. Saxon shook their hands and opened the office door. In the open space, he turned back. “Kara, I’ve got a car waiting for me outside. Happy to drop you wherever you need to be.”

Kara shot an anxious glance toward her boss. It wasn’t entirely appropriate but it would save her time. “Are you sure it’s no trouble?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if it was.”

Grateful, she nodded and began collecting her belongings and five minutes later, was sitting in the rear of a comfortable SUV with tinted windows. Quickly, she gave Mr. Saxon’s driver her address and settled back with a sigh. It was the first time she’d relaxed that day.

“I like the donor-advised foundation idea,” Mr. Saxon said. Before Kara could respond, he added, “I like even more that you were willing to put my goals for this fund before your own need for commission.”

Ah. Kara nodded. He’d spoken to other advisors then. She’d wondered if he had. “I’m fortunate, Mr. Saxon. I’m good at what I do and can comfortably support my daughter and myself. I don’t have to chase commissions. I can choose the challenges that interest me.”

One silver eyebrow arched at her. “Oh, I’m a challenge?”

“Of course,” she admitted without hesitation. “Saxony House has been around for a very long time and has in-house counsel, not to mention a long-standing relationship with
two
of the top fifty firms in the city.”

“Saxony House is my family’s business. Like you, I’m fortunate that my name allows me to live comfortably.” He paused, watched a construction crew digging up a street. “I’m bored with retail, Kara. That baby girl—”

Abruptly, he broke off and turned to face her more directly. “Please forgive me because this is going to sound so arrogant. You know what my family is worth? What I’m worth? Marnie never got to see her fourth birthday. I could have helped her, helped her parents, if I’d known the biggest obstacle blocking her treatment wasn’t government approval, but insurance forms and copays. If they’d come to me in time, I could have covered it all and not noticed the dent. I spend my days planning sales events and ordering next season’s couture and a little girl died.” He shook his head and turned to look out the window again.

Kara said nothing. He was wrong, though. He didn’t sound arrogant.

He sounded human.

*

To Reid’s surprise,
he slept like a baby despite the sounds of the city playing outside his window and woke up refreshed. He grabbed a quick shower, shaved, and drained two cups of coffee before leaving the house.

He was halfway to Kara’s building when he realized he had a problem.

“Damn it. Travis and Trevor.”

Yeah, it was kind of hard to certify somebody on CPR without the CPR practice dummies. He made a quick detour back to the fire house, took the cases from the storage closet, and hailed a cab at the curb.

He made it to Kara’s building with five minutes to spare. He hauled the two cases from the taxi just as a sleek black SUV slowed to a stop. He didn’t spare the car a second glance until Kara Larsen stepped out of it—followed by some smooth rich dude who looked old enough to be her father.

“…not arrogant at all. I think you’re incredibly sweet.” He heard Kara tell the guy, who smiled, shook his head, and murmured something in response Reid couldn’t hear. Whatever it was made Kara’s face go all soft and trembly and suddenly, Reid wanted to pummel the man.

Wait, what if he was actually Kara’s father?

“I’ll be in touch, Mr. Saxon.”

Yeah, so definitely not her dad. Reid watched this Saxon watch Kara stride on high heels into her building and then realized he’d need a hand hauling the dummy cases up to her floor. He hurried after her, glaring at Saxon as he climbed back in his fancy ride.

He caught up to her at the elevator. “Hold the door, please.”

A small hand jutted through the door just before it slid shut. “Oh. It’s you.”

A sarcastic retort floated on his tongue but he swallowed it back when he got a good look at her. “Did you get any sleep last night?”

“Not really.”

She looked straight ahead, watched the floor indicators light up in turn.

“Neither did I.”

It took her a minute and then she sniffed once. “Funny.”

Third floor. “So, you, ah, dating the Dos Equis guy?” He waved his hand toward the street.

Her head snapped around. “The Dos—do you mean Mr. Saxon?”

When he said nothing, she rolled her eyes. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Mr. Saxon is a new client. When he heard Nadia was sick, he gave me a ride home.”

Fourth floor. The doors slid open and she stepped out, heels clicking on the floor, keys jingling in her hand. “And what do you care anyway?”

Damn good question.

She opened the door to her apartment for him. He wheeled Travis and Trevor into the living room where he’d administered air to baby Nadia the night before, and found another blond sitting on the sofa, eyeballing him. On her lap, baby Nadia lounged, clutching a bear and a blanket. Her face was flushed and she didn’t smile.

“Ms. Larsen.” He jerked his chin at the woman he’d met at the hospital, Kara’s sister.

“Mrs. Adair,” Kara corrected him, crossing the room to press her palm to her daughter’s forehead.

“You can just call me Elena.”

“I’m Reid. Reid Bennett.”

“Nice to meet you. Thank you. For last night, I mean.”

Reid nodded, turned to Trevor’s case, unlatched it. “Is right here good?”

“Good enough.” Kara disappeared down a hallway so Reid took the time to study the baby on Kara’s sister’s lap.

“The baby’s breathing well today? No more barking?”

“She has a fever.”

Ah. That explained why the baby was so lethargic.

He stepped closer, knelt on the floor and smiled. “Hi, Nadia.” He brushed the honey curls off her face, ignoring the way his fingers seemed to scream for more. Her face was hot. But the baby didn’t smile. She just blinked at him. He didn’t have any gear with him, but he wanted to hear her lungs. Without asking, he put his ear to the baby’s chest, ignoring the sudden tension in Elena Adair.