Chapter 29

Danny Yost dragged a rolling carryon behind her, and a garment bag draped her shoulder as she walked briskly along a concourse to exit the secure area of Sky Harbor Airport. She'd been told she'd be met, and shortly she saw a handsome, tall man holding a sign with Dr. Yost written in bold letters.

Not just handsome, Danny thought as she drew closer to him. He's a hunk! Be still my heart!

The man smiled when he recognized her, probably from the photograph she'd e-mailed her prospective employer, her anonymous philanthropist, who by now was fixed in her mind as a doddering, dirty but loveable old man.

"Good afternoon, Dr. Yost. My name is Flint."

"Flint?" Danny said, grinning. "One name, like Cher or Madonna?"

He laughed. "Yep. I'm head of security for David and his family, and right now, your driver, as well. I assume you checked other luggage?"

"Yes I did. It is your employer's wish that if, after the initial interview, we agree we're both interested in pursuing the job further, that I will stay through the weekend. What I have in these small bags would hardly be adequate."

"Let's gather your luggage, and Dr. Yost, welcome to Phoenix." He took her carryon and garment bag.

"Thank you," she said and walked away with him toward baggage claim.

"Although we have arranged a suite at a resort hotel for your visit to Phoenix, David would like to meet you before you check in." He chortled. "I believe he would prefer you stay at the compound instead of the hotel."

"Compound?"

"Yes, his walled estate. His mother owns one of the homes inside the walls, but she lives nearby at the family's Arabian horse farm with her husband. Her master suite is unoccupied and available for your use. Of course, the choice is yours. Although your privacy is assured at the compound, the place can be a little chaotic. For instance, the gathering place for the homeschool for the children is his mother's great room. A semi-formal dinner is planned at the compound tonight so you can meet everyone — the family and David's collection of loveable misfits, that is. You'll meet the other men and women involved in his charitable pursuits tomorrow."

"Loveable misfits?" Danny said.

"Yes. For example, David recruited our cook from a battered women's shelter and our housekeeper from a homeless shelter. He used a nurse at a VA hospital to recruit me. I'm an ex-soldier, Special Forces, wounded in action and no longer fit for active duty, so I guess you could include me among his loveable misfits."

Interesting, Danny thought. Walled estate. Arabian horse farm. Loveable misfits. Sounds like my kind of place so far.

"Is there a Mrs. David Stanley?" Danny asked.

"Yes, Nora. You'll meet her this evening. Right now, she's at work. She's a special agent with the FBI. David's sister, Darla, also lives in the compound in her own home with her son, George. She's divorced."

Curiouser and curiouser, Danny thought.

David left his body and connected with Flint. He nearly gasped out loud when he first saw Dr. Danielle Yost in the flesh. The sight of her affected him viscerally, an inaccurate description for a being without form or substance, but that's how his consciousness interpreted the emotion. No other woman, save one, had produced such a powerful attraction at first sight, and that woman was now his wife. Nora's catlike grace had been her attraction. Danielle Yost's dark eyes flecked with green lights gripped him, and the expression on her face held him in awe. He was certain she wasn't purposefully projecting the kindness and compassion evident in her relaxed expression, but that's what he saw.

Reluctantly, he switched his connection to Robert Hummel. He'd been curious about Danielle Yost. That's why he'd detoured and connected with Flint, but Hummel had been the primary reason for his flight. The pervert had been released on bail the day before and David hadn't monitored his activities closely enough to predict his behavior.

David found the beleaguered man pacing in the family room of his home. It was time for David to run Hummel out of town. Using the telephone in the master bedroom, he called Hummel on his cell phone.

"Robert Hummel here," he said when he answered David's call.

"Your friend, Bill, believes you ratted him out to Lopez," David said using his stentorian voice. "He is aware that the e-mail outlining his crimes came from the computer in your house." This was a blatant but believable lie. David had selected Bill Bower for the lie because Bower was the most violent pervert in Hummel's perverted group. "Bill has vowed retribution," David continued. "If I were you, I'd make myself scarce, get out of Dodge, or in your case, Tucson, where Bill can't get at you."

"Who are you? Why are you... ?"

"You don't know me, but Bill does. Bill is a friend of mine. He'll kill you. I know he will. He'll do time for his sexual preference, a preference I share with him, by the way. With what Lopez has on Bill, I'd guess my friend will get five years, and he'll be out in three. That's fine with me, but I don't want him put away for life or worse, which will happen if he kills you. Run, Hummel, run for your life. Run and save Bill's life, or you will surely die."

David hung up and immediately hovered over Eileen's sick stepfather. Would he run?

David watched as Hummel rushed to a window at the front of the house and peeked out through the curtains. He'd see no threat. There was no threat.

Hummel turned and hurried to the walk-in closet in the master bedroom where he pulled out a set of luggage.

With a grin, David returned to his body.

David and Darla watched the limo stop in front of David's home. Flint opened the rear door of the armored vehicle, and Dr. Danielle Yost stepped out.

"Nice legs," Darla whispered to her brother.

David chuckled. "A beautiful woman from head to toe, as per mother's specifications for an assistant," David said and walked forward to greet the woman who, but for the lack of three years in age, met Carol Stanley's specifications perfectly.

"Hello," he said sticking out his hand. "I'm David Stanley." The shocked look on Danielle Yost's face made David grin. "As a guess, I'd say I don't meet your expectations."

She took his hand. "Hardly. I expected a doddering, dirty old man."

David laughed gaily. "I occasionally wobble a bit; I frequently have naughty thoughts, and sometimes I feel older than dirt, so your expectations were not far off the mark. Welcome to Tempe and the Stanley compound. Dr. Yost, this is my sister, Mrs. Darla Stanley. Darla, may I present Dr. Danielle Yost." The women shook hands.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Yost," Darla said. "Please come in out of the heat. Are you thirsty? Would you like to freshen up?"

"Yes to both questions, Mrs. Stanley," Dr. Yost said.

"Oh, please call me Darla, and David will be upset if you call him Mr. Stanley. How was your flight?" Darla asked as they walked into David's home.

"Long but otherwise comfortable," Danny said. "The old man who raised me and named me Danielle called me Danny. I'd be pleased if you referred to me as Danny, as well."

After Danny freshened up in a guest bathroom, Janice served iced tea in the great room.

"You have questions, Danny," David said. "Fire away."

She chortled. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-seven."

"I was told you were a philanthropist."

"I am."

"A philanthropist by definition is a rich man. How did you come by your money?"

"I'm a day trader. I trade index and currency options on various markets." He sighed. "Danny, I'm like you, a prodigy, not intellectually, but rather with securities — stocks and bonds. I invested my college fund when I was sixteen. This year, my family and I will earn in the neighborhood of $100,000,000. I need an assistant because I intend to help others with half that amount, or more, and throwing money at those in need without doing harm isn't easy and is very time consuming."

Danny slowly let all the air out of her lungs. $100,000,000! She gathered her thoughts and said, "You're wrong about that. Giving away money without doing harm is easy. Just write checks to various charitable organizations. There's a lot of them, and most are honest about fulfilling their missions."

David grimaced. "Giving in that fashion doesn't satisfy my addiction. I prefer the rush I experience by giving directly — one-on-one, if you will. Nevertheless, in my effort to feed my addiction to charitable good deeds, I recently acquired control of a charitable organization that serves battered women and children. The organization is disallowed from compensating its board of directors. The board members must serve out of compassion. This is a policy I insisted upon, and a policy that took a chunk out of my backside during the first board meeting. Sometimes, I'm too damned clever for my own good. We have a paid CEO running the day-to-day operations, but for the organization to succeed, her efforts must be augmented with certain duties that can only be performed by the chairman of the board, duties you will perform if we have a meeting of the minds."

"Besides presiding over the board, what duties are you contemplating for the chairperson?" Danny said.

Chairperson? David thought. Please, God, don't let her be a feminine nazi.

"Darla is managing our grassroots fundraising campaign," David said. "The chairperson will assist that effort. Our specifications for a chairperson include strong leadership qualities, a great personality, and charisma oozing from every pore. She will represent our organization at various functions, make speeches, and preside over press conferences. The time needed to perform these duties, without compensation, caused all the board members to announce that if elected they would not serve. My mother suggested that I hire an assistant, pay the assistant very well, and make the chairperson job one of my assistant's duties." David chuckled. "She also said I couldn't recruit my assistant from shelters or hospitals — as is my habit when hiring help — and recommended that I engage a national search firm to fill the position."

"You don't need to overdo the chairperson label, David," Danny said. "I'm a feminist, but I'm not rabid about it. I said chairperson to see your reaction. We have a problem, though. Charisma does not ooze from my pores. What's oozing is perspiration from a long flight and the stress of this interview. Flint mentioned that you'd prefer that I stay here at the compound rather than at a hotel. If that is still your wish, I'll bend to your preference. I'd like to take a shower and get settled one place or the other before we talk further."

David smiled and said, "Darla will show you to your suite of rooms."

Wearing a shower cap, Danny let hot water pelt her shoulders and back. She'd temporarily halted the interview to compose herself. She'd expected a doddering old man. Instead, she'd met a man who turned her into mush the moment she laid eyes on him. She'd feared that if she didn't halt the interview that he'd soon smell her excitement, if not him, then his sister.

"I can't work for David Stanley," she whispered. "He's a married man, dammit! If I work beside him day after day, I'll make a fool of myself trying to seduce him."

She also knew she wanted the job as much as or more than she wanted the man. It was her dream job, the culmination of her education, training and experience. No bureaucracy to contend with! Just one man, one rich, sexy, capable, sexy, compassionate, sexy man. He turned her on more than any man she'd ever met.

Reaching, she touched herself and felt her natural lubricant, not hot water from the shower. She pushed two fingers inside her wet heat, pulled them out and rubbed her clitoris vigorously.

Come. Make yourself come. Then you can handle the rest of the interview.

Her fingers flashed back and forth, and she raised her foot to a ledge in the shower that effectively opened her sex to her probing fingers. Plunging two fingers inside her from one hand, she massaged her clit with fingers from her other hand. Her digital assault combined with mental images that went beyond naughty to downright nasty soon produced the desired results.

There, she thought. That's better. I want this job. If I have to masturbate ten times a day to keep it, I will.

She giggled quietly as she reveled in the relaxed lethargy granted by her orgasm. Ten climaxes a day. Not a bad side benefit to the perfect job.

David returned to his body, looked down and noted the tent in his pants.

Darla giggled. "You connected with her while she showered, didn't you?"

He nodded. That he'd also watched her masturbate to orgasm he kept to himself.

Darla rose to her feet and locked the door. After walking around the desk, she went to her knees and fumbled with David's belt. "We have a problem, big brother," she said as she pulled his hard cock from inside his pants. She licked the crown and sucked in half his length.

"We have a problem? My problem is obvious. What's your problem?" David said.

"I want her as much as you," Darla said while stroking his erection. "And depending on your perspective, my problem could be more difficult to handle than yours, or much easier because I don't believe she presents an opportunity for me. I don't think she's bi."

Her mouth returned to his throbbing cock.

After emitting a soft groan of pleasure, David said, "We'll just have to handle our problems by ignoring them. We are, after all, taken times three."

What looked like thousands of bougainvillea blossoms fluttered in the soft breeze on one side of the running path. Orange jubilee with their clustered trumpet flowers dominated the other side. In front of David and Danny where the path took a right turn, two stately pines rose fifty feet into the air. David took her hand as they hopped over a bubbling watercourse.

"I run this path most mornings. It circles the compound just inside the wall," David said, releasing her hand. "My goal when I had it designed was a natural look. I think my landscape architect gave me what I asked for. Sometime soon, I will hire a homeless man experienced in landscape maintenance to become my groundskeeper. I've hesitated putting out the word to my contact at the homeless shelter because it took me a year to train my current landscape-maintenance contractor. He wanted to trim everything into little coifed balls or squared-off hedges, taking away the wild, natural look."

"It's beautiful, David. I haven't given landscaping much thought, I'll admit, but I agree with you. The lush wild look is better."

"Tell me about Danny Yost the girl," David said.

"I was an orphan, abandoned in a snow bank in Reno, Nevada, when I was a baby. An old man found me and took me in." She laughed softly. "Nowadays, he'd be required to turn me over to Child Protective Services or feel the wrath of that bureaucracy land on him with both feet."

"I understand. Vince, the eleven-year-old boy living with us, is a foster child. Nora, Darla and I had to jump through hoops to talk the government into letting us give the boy a home and our tender mercy. None of us are licensed foster parents, although Darla is currently taking the classes necessary to become licensed. So, we searched for a licensed foster parent and paid her to move in with us until we could legally assume the parenting roles. With that move, the compound became a foster home. Maria Gonzales is the foster parent we hired." He chuckled. "She enjoys living here so much, I'm beginning to wonder if she'll move out after we're licensed. In her distant past, she was also an elementary school teacher, so we asked her to teach the children Spanish, her native tongue." He paused. "Tell me about the old man who took you in."

"Samuel Yost. Gabby. He was sixty-five when he found me. He died a few days after I received my bachelor's degree when I was eighteen. Gabby wasn't talkative. Cowboy friends of his tagged him with the nickname because he was a man of few words."

"He was a professional cowboy?" David said.

"Yes, worked ranches all over the West. Rode buckin' broncs in rodeos for a few years, as well."

"Except for the rodeo, he sounds like Tom Jensen, our ranch foreman," David said. "And you'll adore Joe. He's a horse whisperer. Joe is my mother's husband and also my wife's father. You'll meet him at dinner tonight. Tom, as well, I believe. Perhaps one of them knew Gabby."

"Not likely, not with the gap in their ages, but maybe one of them heard stories about him. After Gabby died, he left me enough money when combined with some grants that I was able to go on for my master's degree without serious financial hardships. Then I took a job and worked for a year until I met Lewis Farmington and fell head over heels in love. Unfortunately, our marriage was doomed from the start. Lewis came from old money, and his family never accepted me. I could have dealt with that, but Lewis expected his wife to be only a wife. Well, maybe a hostess, too. He didn't want me working a job outside the home, and he had enough money to hire help for our house. I didn't have anything to do but shop and greet him with a smile and a kiss when he came home from work, and it wasn't long before his arrival time from work became later and later. What's more, with each promotion up the corporate ladder, his company moved us to a different city. And because he was on a fast track, we moved twice during our two-year marriage, so making lasting, close friendships was also difficult for me. What rankled me the most, though, was his refusal to have children. He'd said otherwise when we were engaged. The next time he came home and announced we were moving again, I told him to have at it, but that I wouldn't be moving with him. I filed for a divorce and never looked back, returning to Nevada, where I finally fulfilled a deathbed promise I made Gabby by earning the right to be called doctor."

"At which time," David said, "you went to work for the State of Nevada."

"Yes. You need to know something about me, David. I detest bureaucracies with their inherent inefficiencies, not to mention their unbending often contrary rules."

He laughed and said, "I'm with you on that." He glanced at his wristwatch. "We'd better turn back. We'll need to change for dinner. It's semi-formal tonight. You're in for a treat. My cook, June, is a gourmet chef."

"Flint told me you hired her out of a shelter for battered women," she said.

"I did, as a matter of fact from one of the shelters we recently took over. It was being run so badly that we decided to start our own shelter for battered women and children, but instead, because of a number of unexpected twists and turns, ended up taking control of the non-profit organization operating that shelter and others. You'll meet the CEO and the board members of the merged organization tomorrow afternoon. Tomorrow morning, my mother and sister will show you the apartment complex we've purchased to house some homeless families that are on the cusp of obtaining permanent housing again. Sort of a halfway house — half-rent, too. We're working with CASS on that project. They help folks end their homelessness and do a pretty good job of it, so we decided to help them."