The Bond of Simple Attraction pt3
Story: The Bond of Simple Attraction
Author: Cincoflex
Summary: When Howard Met Maria
Author's Notes: Research for this has been a hoot and a lot of fun. I owe sincere thanks to VR_Trakowski for her help with many things related to DC in the Sixties, and a big hug to Lovellama for keeping my usage up to snuff and cheering me on. You ladies rock!
It was the one of the strangest and sweetest lunches she’d ever had, an odd give and take across the table with a man who seemed fascinated by what she’d always thought of as mundane. Howard managed to coax all sorts of opinion out of her, and seemed to enjoy hearing her stories, even when they were just silly memories.
When the food came they took a break from the conversation and ate; Maria was sure she wouldn’t have an appetite, but to her delight the ravioli was tender and the tomato sauce bursting with flavor. She made a mental note to come back to Pesci di Antonio sometime soon, maybe with her parents or Randi. Across the table, Howard tucked in cheerfully and Maria noticed his excellent table manners.
She wondered if he was trying to make a good impression on her, and that absurd thought nearly made her choke as a giggle worked its way up her throat. Howard looked up and she shook her head, taking a sip of wine to help matters.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Just wondering when you need to get back,” she replied. “I don’t want to keep you from anything important.”
“This is plenty important,” he told her with a forthright look. “Lunch with one of the up and coming chemists of Stark Industries.”
“I haven’t actually said I’d work for you,” Maria reminded him before she could stop herself. She didn’t mean to be blunt, and knew her remark came across as ungrateful.
“Not yet, but I’ve got faith.” Howard shot her a look that was oddly shy, and she felt an urge to pat his hand.
“I didn’t mean that to sound so rude. I’m sorry. It’s been a lovely lunch. You’re making me nervous,” she told him. “I do tend to be direct about these things.”
“That’s good,” Howard nodded, “an excellent quality. I don’t want to make you nervous, though. If it helps, I’m nervous too.”
“You? Nervous?” Now she was slightly astonished. “But you’re a captain of industry; you’ve met world leaders and royalty!”
She watched him look down at his plate, as if embarrassed to be reminded of those achievements. When he looked up again, Maria noted his slightly melancholy expression. “Those . . . are just things I’ve done. They’re not who I am, Maria.”
That was the moment she felt a warm flutter deep in her stomach. She drew a quick breath and smiled, feeling daring enough to reach over and pat his hand. Howard’s skin was warm under her fingertips.
“You’re right,” she told him. “And yes, I’ll take the job.”
****
Monday through Thursday, Maria Carbonell worked in the Stark Industries laboratories just off the Lee/Jackson Highway. She bought a second-hand Nash Metropolitan that Randi said looked like a rolling sneaker, and made the daily commute to her new job with a sense of satisfaction. Doctor Samuel Shastri and his team there were impressed with her credentials, and warmed up to her quiet efficient ways within a few weeks. She took on her new duties diligently, and found a great deal of satisfaction among the retorts and Bunsen burners, following up on a complicated line of research into resins.
That was Monday through Thursday.
On Fridays, Maria didn’t bother putting on a lab coat. Every Friday, from the first week she’d worked for him, Howard Stark either sent a car for her or showed up himself at the labs, swept her away with him and they went to work.
The National Engineer’s Seminar.
Lunch with architects.
A ballistics testing lab.
A tour of a steel mill.
Every Friday was spent on some aspect of furthering Stark Industries, and Maria never knew what to expect. She found herself standing in an experimental hydroponics lab in Winston-Salem one Friday, and peering out the window of a bathysphere in Wood’s Hole the next.
On Fridays, Howard Stark introduced her everywhere as his consultant, and Maria took to carrying a notebook to keep track of the details of every trip. He asked for her opinions, and to her delight, took them seriously.
In the evenings, he took her to dinner, and they discussed what they’d seen during the day. Most of the time they stuck to small places in and around the city, little culinary gems tucked away and prized by locals.
Maria didn’t quite know what to make of it.
Howard treated her as a respected colleague and friend, sharing quiet jokes and insights when they made their trips. Afterwards, when they were having dinner, he was more relaxed but still a gentleman. He held her chair out for her, helped her in and out of cars, brought her home at a reasonable hour, much to Randi’s confusion.
Maria felt a little bemused by it all. It had taken her two weeks to figure out that the energetic but shy head of Stark Industries was . . . courting her. It seemed clear that Howard was deliberately choosing to spend time with her, albeit in an intellectually directed way.
The reaction of her co-workers confused her as well. A few were curious, but when she produced her notes of the trips, they shrugged. Sam Shastri told her it was immensely helpful to have her so close to Howard’s ear. “He sees us all as separate departments,” Sam pointed out. “Sometimes he forgets we need to integrate if we’re to be effective.”
Some of the female co-workers made snide remarks, but Maria ignored them and kept her expression neutral; that at least was familiar territory to her. She went on with her own research and sat home alone on Saturday nights, feeling slightly confused.
Randi was no help. “He’s never made a move on you? Ever?”
Maria shook her head.
“He might be . . . you know,” Randi offered dubiously. “I have a cousin who is.”
“No,” Maria sighed. “Definitely not. I’ve seen him looking at my legs.” She didn’t add that Howard had given her a few other glances that left her feeling like Jell-o, particularly after they’d had a few glasses of wine at dinner. There had been some private jokes as well, and Maria felt pretty confident that Howard Stark was interested in women.
“Ohh, maybe he can’t,” Randi gasped. “Oh God, that would be awful! Maybe something happened to him during the war, and now he’s like Jake Barnes, lusting after you but just doesn’t have what it takes!”
“Randi!’ Maria snorted. “No. Now you’re just getting silly. I’m sure it’s just a matter of propriety. After all, I work for him, and he’s . . . older . . . than I am.”
“Maybe you need to make the first move,” Randi suggested. “Let him know that you’re interested. You are interested in him, right?”
That question made Maria throw one of the sofa pillows at her roommate, who laughed, dodging.
And yet the advice lingered in Maria’s thoughts all through the rest of the week, and she was still undecided on what to do when Friday rolled around.
*** *** ***
He felt like shit. Part of the problem with being the head of a huge company meant constant exposure to hundreds of people, and invariably some of those people were sick. All week Howard knew he was coming down with something, but the thought of missing a Friday with Maria was unbearable.
Wanda chided him. “Mistah Stark, you need to be at home.”
“I’ll have the weekend to rest.”
“Yes, after you’ve infected the rest of us,” she replied, handing him a box of Kleenex from her desk. “And I do not need a cold this week, Boss.”
“Take vitamin C; Pauling tells me he’s onto something big with that,” Howard mumbled accepting the tissues.
He’d planned to take Maria to a groundbreaking ceremony for a new factory, and then off to dinner with the Cronkites on their yacht, but when she saw him, she frowned.
“Howard, you’re in no shape to be out right now,” she told him. “I’m taking you home.”
“I’m fine,” he protested, and promptly turned his head to sneeze. Maria linked an arm through his and guided him out of the labs, grumbling. At the car, she herded Howard in and told the driver, “Please take us to Mr. Stark’s home. He’s not well enough to be out today.”
Reluctantly Howard nodded; seeing that in the rearview mirror, the chauffeur nodded back and pulled out of the parking lot. They drove in silence for a while, and finally Howard grumbled. “Damn it. I was dead set on having you meet Walt and Betsy.”
“Another time,” Maria replied, her voice soft. “You’re ill and you need to be in bed, Howard Stark. How long have you been feeling like this?”
“Since Wednesday,” he told her, and coughed. She leaned away from him, but he noted she wasn’t repulsed, merely concerned.
When they passed through the gates half an hour later, Howard could tell that Maria felt a little intimidated by the green lawns on either side of the long drive, so he spoke up to reassure her. “I’m the new kid on the block,” he snuffled. “Bought it ten years ago when it came on the market, so it hasn’t been in the family long.”
The chauffeur pulled up and held the door as an elegant white-haired butler came out the front door to assist the two of them from the car.
Howard wearily held up a hand. “Not a word, Trevor. Maria Carbonell, this is Trevor, my majordomo by the way. He and Mrs. Cabot run this place and by default, me to some degree.”
As he watched, it occurred to him that Maria had probably never met a member of a household staff and wasn’t sure what to do because she held out her hand. Mildly surprised, Trevor took it and bowed over it slightly before turning to help Howard up the steps.“Sir, allow me . . .”
“Me too,” Maria flanked him on the other side and together they helped guide him into the spacious quiet of the foyer. Howard didn’t protest; every step felt leaden and his head was throbbing now. He hung onto the banister newel for a moment and heard Maria speak calmly to his majordomo. “Mr. Stark needs bed rest and it would be a good idea to have his doctor look him over. In the meantime, I think some chicken soup would be in order as well.”
“Yes ma’am,” Trevor agreed. “I will call Doctor Stahl, and cancel your social engagements for this evening. Unfortunately however, Fridays are now Mrs. Cabot’s day off.”
Howard gave a sigh; since he’d started seeing Maria, he’d let Mrs. Cabot change her schedule accordingly.
“Then it’s a very good thing that I happen know an old family recipe. I’ll get a list of ingredients ready and send that nice gentlemen with the car to shop for them while you help Mr. Stark get more comfortable.”
“Very good, Ma’am,” Trevor nodded. Howard knew the man was too well-trained to actually smile, but the approving tone of his voice made Howard manage a weary grin.
“Don’t I get any say in this?” he complained, his wry expression making it clear that he knew very well he was out-voted.
“Not this time, Howard,” Maria told him softly. “Please.”
He couldn’t deny the need to lie down, and nodded weakly, allowing Trevor to slip a supporting arm around his shoulders once more. Before they began the long hike up the staircase, Howard asked, “You’re really making me soup?”
It seemed such an incongruous thing, but important somehow. He wasn’t sure why; the cold was muddling his thoughts now, and the lure of his bed was growing stronger.
“Yes,” she told him. “Go get some sleep, Howard.”
He woke when the bedroom door opened, and for a moment Howard wasn’t sure what time it was. The curtains were closed, and the only light was the bedside lamp. Muzzily he sat up as wiry, weathered Doctor Aaron Stahl came in and set his bag down on the dresser. “Under the weather, Stark?”
“You could say that,” Howard sighed. Patiently he let the doctor check his pulse and heartbeat, then grudgingly accepted the thermometer under his tongue as Stahl spoke up. “I’d give you my standard lecture here about cutting down on the smoking and drinking and working more than seventy hours a week, but we’ve both heard it all before, so I’ll cut to the chase, Howard. You need to pace yourself, genius. I know you think you’re indestructible, and God knows you’re in better shape than a number of men your age, but you’re pushing your luck.”
Howard rolled his eyes since the thermometer prevented him from any cutting remarks. Stahl smiled briefly and continued as he packed up his stethoscope. “Looks like the common cold and thanks to those Cubans you smoke, you’ve got some congestion that’s going linger. Luckily, you’ll be getting a nice dose of Jewish penicillin soon from that sweetie downstairs.”
“Hands off,” Howard rasped with a smirk. “That goes for the soup and the girl.”
“Oh it’s like that, is it?” Stahl nodded, pulling out the thermometer and checking it.
“It’s . . . getting there,” Howard mumbled. “So, do I have a temperature or not?”
“A little elevated,” Stahl told him. “Nothing some aspirin and bed rest won’t cure.” He cleaned the thermometer with an alcohol wipe and checked Howard’s eyes. “Stay off your feet this weekend and have some soup. I’ll call you on Sunday to see how you feel.”
“Thanks,” Howard blew his nose.
Stahl hesitated a moment, then lowered his voice. “I know she’s pretty, Howard, but do me a favor and don’t try to show off for her, all right? I really don’t want this to flare up into pneumonia because you didn’t take it easy.”
Howard laughed very softly, trying not to cough. “You haven’t met Maria, have you? She’s not about to let me get up, Aaron, trust me. Between her and my secretary, I guarantee you I’m going to be on my back for a few days.”
“I like her already,” Stahl declared, rising. He collected his bag and stepped out of the bedroom. Howard heard him go down the stairs and figured Maria would probably want a report before he left. She was thorough that way, and the thought warmed him.
It had been a hell of a long time since anyone actually cared for him, Howard realized. Cared on a personal level. Most of the women he’d been dating in the last few years weren’t as interested in him as they were in being seen with him, and Howard understood that on a pragmatic level. Some were fun, some were out and out gold-diggers, but none of them had ever made a serious in-road to his heart. He was too busy and too wary to play romantic games; too aware of the rarity of genuine love.
Some of his friends had it; many of his employees were happily married as well, leaving him to wonder if he’d missed the boat somewhere down the line. Howard knew he’d never hurt for feminine company, but finding someone who could go toe-to-toe with him both intellectually and emotionally had been a long hunt.
Then he realized he’d thought of that process in the past tense and grinned to himself before settling back down with a sigh.
Author: Cincoflex
Summary: When Howard Met Maria
Author's Notes: Research for this has been a hoot and a lot of fun. I owe sincere thanks to VR_Trakowski for her help with many things related to DC in the Sixties, and a big hug to Lovellama for keeping my usage up to snuff and cheering me on. You ladies rock!
It was the one of the strangest and sweetest lunches she’d ever had, an odd give and take across the table with a man who seemed fascinated by what she’d always thought of as mundane. Howard managed to coax all sorts of opinion out of her, and seemed to enjoy hearing her stories, even when they were just silly memories.
When the food came they took a break from the conversation and ate; Maria was sure she wouldn’t have an appetite, but to her delight the ravioli was tender and the tomato sauce bursting with flavor. She made a mental note to come back to Pesci di Antonio sometime soon, maybe with her parents or Randi. Across the table, Howard tucked in cheerfully and Maria noticed his excellent table manners.
She wondered if he was trying to make a good impression on her, and that absurd thought nearly made her choke as a giggle worked its way up her throat. Howard looked up and she shook her head, taking a sip of wine to help matters.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Just wondering when you need to get back,” she replied. “I don’t want to keep you from anything important.”
“This is plenty important,” he told her with a forthright look. “Lunch with one of the up and coming chemists of Stark Industries.”
“I haven’t actually said I’d work for you,” Maria reminded him before she could stop herself. She didn’t mean to be blunt, and knew her remark came across as ungrateful.
“Not yet, but I’ve got faith.” Howard shot her a look that was oddly shy, and she felt an urge to pat his hand.
“I didn’t mean that to sound so rude. I’m sorry. It’s been a lovely lunch. You’re making me nervous,” she told him. “I do tend to be direct about these things.”
“That’s good,” Howard nodded, “an excellent quality. I don’t want to make you nervous, though. If it helps, I’m nervous too.”
“You? Nervous?” Now she was slightly astonished. “But you’re a captain of industry; you’ve met world leaders and royalty!”
She watched him look down at his plate, as if embarrassed to be reminded of those achievements. When he looked up again, Maria noted his slightly melancholy expression. “Those . . . are just things I’ve done. They’re not who I am, Maria.”
That was the moment she felt a warm flutter deep in her stomach. She drew a quick breath and smiled, feeling daring enough to reach over and pat his hand. Howard’s skin was warm under her fingertips.
“You’re right,” she told him. “And yes, I’ll take the job.”
****
Monday through Thursday, Maria Carbonell worked in the Stark Industries laboratories just off the Lee/Jackson Highway. She bought a second-hand Nash Metropolitan that Randi said looked like a rolling sneaker, and made the daily commute to her new job with a sense of satisfaction. Doctor Samuel Shastri and his team there were impressed with her credentials, and warmed up to her quiet efficient ways within a few weeks. She took on her new duties diligently, and found a great deal of satisfaction among the retorts and Bunsen burners, following up on a complicated line of research into resins.
That was Monday through Thursday.
On Fridays, Maria didn’t bother putting on a lab coat. Every Friday, from the first week she’d worked for him, Howard Stark either sent a car for her or showed up himself at the labs, swept her away with him and they went to work.
The National Engineer’s Seminar.
Lunch with architects.
A ballistics testing lab.
A tour of a steel mill.
Every Friday was spent on some aspect of furthering Stark Industries, and Maria never knew what to expect. She found herself standing in an experimental hydroponics lab in Winston-Salem one Friday, and peering out the window of a bathysphere in Wood’s Hole the next.
On Fridays, Howard Stark introduced her everywhere as his consultant, and Maria took to carrying a notebook to keep track of the details of every trip. He asked for her opinions, and to her delight, took them seriously.
In the evenings, he took her to dinner, and they discussed what they’d seen during the day. Most of the time they stuck to small places in and around the city, little culinary gems tucked away and prized by locals.
Maria didn’t quite know what to make of it.
Howard treated her as a respected colleague and friend, sharing quiet jokes and insights when they made their trips. Afterwards, when they were having dinner, he was more relaxed but still a gentleman. He held her chair out for her, helped her in and out of cars, brought her home at a reasonable hour, much to Randi’s confusion.
Maria felt a little bemused by it all. It had taken her two weeks to figure out that the energetic but shy head of Stark Industries was . . . courting her. It seemed clear that Howard was deliberately choosing to spend time with her, albeit in an intellectually directed way.
The reaction of her co-workers confused her as well. A few were curious, but when she produced her notes of the trips, they shrugged. Sam Shastri told her it was immensely helpful to have her so close to Howard’s ear. “He sees us all as separate departments,” Sam pointed out. “Sometimes he forgets we need to integrate if we’re to be effective.”
Some of the female co-workers made snide remarks, but Maria ignored them and kept her expression neutral; that at least was familiar territory to her. She went on with her own research and sat home alone on Saturday nights, feeling slightly confused.
Randi was no help. “He’s never made a move on you? Ever?”
Maria shook her head.
“He might be . . . you know,” Randi offered dubiously. “I have a cousin who is.”
“No,” Maria sighed. “Definitely not. I’ve seen him looking at my legs.” She didn’t add that Howard had given her a few other glances that left her feeling like Jell-o, particularly after they’d had a few glasses of wine at dinner. There had been some private jokes as well, and Maria felt pretty confident that Howard Stark was interested in women.
“Ohh, maybe he can’t,” Randi gasped. “Oh God, that would be awful! Maybe something happened to him during the war, and now he’s like Jake Barnes, lusting after you but just doesn’t have what it takes!”
“Randi!’ Maria snorted. “No. Now you’re just getting silly. I’m sure it’s just a matter of propriety. After all, I work for him, and he’s . . . older . . . than I am.”
“Maybe you need to make the first move,” Randi suggested. “Let him know that you’re interested. You are interested in him, right?”
That question made Maria throw one of the sofa pillows at her roommate, who laughed, dodging.
And yet the advice lingered in Maria’s thoughts all through the rest of the week, and she was still undecided on what to do when Friday rolled around.
*** *** ***
He felt like shit. Part of the problem with being the head of a huge company meant constant exposure to hundreds of people, and invariably some of those people were sick. All week Howard knew he was coming down with something, but the thought of missing a Friday with Maria was unbearable.
Wanda chided him. “Mistah Stark, you need to be at home.”
“I’ll have the weekend to rest.”
“Yes, after you’ve infected the rest of us,” she replied, handing him a box of Kleenex from her desk. “And I do not need a cold this week, Boss.”
“Take vitamin C; Pauling tells me he’s onto something big with that,” Howard mumbled accepting the tissues.
He’d planned to take Maria to a groundbreaking ceremony for a new factory, and then off to dinner with the Cronkites on their yacht, but when she saw him, she frowned.
“Howard, you’re in no shape to be out right now,” she told him. “I’m taking you home.”
“I’m fine,” he protested, and promptly turned his head to sneeze. Maria linked an arm through his and guided him out of the labs, grumbling. At the car, she herded Howard in and told the driver, “Please take us to Mr. Stark’s home. He’s not well enough to be out today.”
Reluctantly Howard nodded; seeing that in the rearview mirror, the chauffeur nodded back and pulled out of the parking lot. They drove in silence for a while, and finally Howard grumbled. “Damn it. I was dead set on having you meet Walt and Betsy.”
“Another time,” Maria replied, her voice soft. “You’re ill and you need to be in bed, Howard Stark. How long have you been feeling like this?”
“Since Wednesday,” he told her, and coughed. She leaned away from him, but he noted she wasn’t repulsed, merely concerned.
When they passed through the gates half an hour later, Howard could tell that Maria felt a little intimidated by the green lawns on either side of the long drive, so he spoke up to reassure her. “I’m the new kid on the block,” he snuffled. “Bought it ten years ago when it came on the market, so it hasn’t been in the family long.”
The chauffeur pulled up and held the door as an elegant white-haired butler came out the front door to assist the two of them from the car.
Howard wearily held up a hand. “Not a word, Trevor. Maria Carbonell, this is Trevor, my majordomo by the way. He and Mrs. Cabot run this place and by default, me to some degree.”
As he watched, it occurred to him that Maria had probably never met a member of a household staff and wasn’t sure what to do because she held out her hand. Mildly surprised, Trevor took it and bowed over it slightly before turning to help Howard up the steps.“Sir, allow me . . .”
“Me too,” Maria flanked him on the other side and together they helped guide him into the spacious quiet of the foyer. Howard didn’t protest; every step felt leaden and his head was throbbing now. He hung onto the banister newel for a moment and heard Maria speak calmly to his majordomo. “Mr. Stark needs bed rest and it would be a good idea to have his doctor look him over. In the meantime, I think some chicken soup would be in order as well.”
“Yes ma’am,” Trevor agreed. “I will call Doctor Stahl, and cancel your social engagements for this evening. Unfortunately however, Fridays are now Mrs. Cabot’s day off.”
Howard gave a sigh; since he’d started seeing Maria, he’d let Mrs. Cabot change her schedule accordingly.
“Then it’s a very good thing that I happen know an old family recipe. I’ll get a list of ingredients ready and send that nice gentlemen with the car to shop for them while you help Mr. Stark get more comfortable.”
“Very good, Ma’am,” Trevor nodded. Howard knew the man was too well-trained to actually smile, but the approving tone of his voice made Howard manage a weary grin.
“Don’t I get any say in this?” he complained, his wry expression making it clear that he knew very well he was out-voted.
“Not this time, Howard,” Maria told him softly. “Please.”
He couldn’t deny the need to lie down, and nodded weakly, allowing Trevor to slip a supporting arm around his shoulders once more. Before they began the long hike up the staircase, Howard asked, “You’re really making me soup?”
It seemed such an incongruous thing, but important somehow. He wasn’t sure why; the cold was muddling his thoughts now, and the lure of his bed was growing stronger.
“Yes,” she told him. “Go get some sleep, Howard.”
He woke when the bedroom door opened, and for a moment Howard wasn’t sure what time it was. The curtains were closed, and the only light was the bedside lamp. Muzzily he sat up as wiry, weathered Doctor Aaron Stahl came in and set his bag down on the dresser. “Under the weather, Stark?”
“You could say that,” Howard sighed. Patiently he let the doctor check his pulse and heartbeat, then grudgingly accepted the thermometer under his tongue as Stahl spoke up. “I’d give you my standard lecture here about cutting down on the smoking and drinking and working more than seventy hours a week, but we’ve both heard it all before, so I’ll cut to the chase, Howard. You need to pace yourself, genius. I know you think you’re indestructible, and God knows you’re in better shape than a number of men your age, but you’re pushing your luck.”
Howard rolled his eyes since the thermometer prevented him from any cutting remarks. Stahl smiled briefly and continued as he packed up his stethoscope. “Looks like the common cold and thanks to those Cubans you smoke, you’ve got some congestion that’s going linger. Luckily, you’ll be getting a nice dose of Jewish penicillin soon from that sweetie downstairs.”
“Hands off,” Howard rasped with a smirk. “That goes for the soup and the girl.”
“Oh it’s like that, is it?” Stahl nodded, pulling out the thermometer and checking it.
“It’s . . . getting there,” Howard mumbled. “So, do I have a temperature or not?”
“A little elevated,” Stahl told him. “Nothing some aspirin and bed rest won’t cure.” He cleaned the thermometer with an alcohol wipe and checked Howard’s eyes. “Stay off your feet this weekend and have some soup. I’ll call you on Sunday to see how you feel.”
“Thanks,” Howard blew his nose.
Stahl hesitated a moment, then lowered his voice. “I know she’s pretty, Howard, but do me a favor and don’t try to show off for her, all right? I really don’t want this to flare up into pneumonia because you didn’t take it easy.”
Howard laughed very softly, trying not to cough. “You haven’t met Maria, have you? She’s not about to let me get up, Aaron, trust me. Between her and my secretary, I guarantee you I’m going to be on my back for a few days.”
“I like her already,” Stahl declared, rising. He collected his bag and stepped out of the bedroom. Howard heard him go down the stairs and figured Maria would probably want a report before he left. She was thorough that way, and the thought warmed him.
It had been a hell of a long time since anyone actually cared for him, Howard realized. Cared on a personal level. Most of the women he’d been dating in the last few years weren’t as interested in him as they were in being seen with him, and Howard understood that on a pragmatic level. Some were fun, some were out and out gold-diggers, but none of them had ever made a serious in-road to his heart. He was too busy and too wary to play romantic games; too aware of the rarity of genuine love.
Some of his friends had it; many of his employees were happily married as well, leaving him to wonder if he’d missed the boat somewhere down the line. Howard knew he’d never hurt for feminine company, but finding someone who could go toe-to-toe with him both intellectually and emotionally had been a long hunt.
Then he realized he’d thought of that process in the past tense and grinned to himself before settling back down with a sigh.