What Are Friends For?. Naomi Horton

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СКАЧАТЬ Andie’s desk without saying anything and tapped in a couple of commands on the computer. It flashed a Working message for a moment or two, then spilled a multicolored display of figures across the screen.

      Andie gazed at it in silence, then glanced up at Margie with a rueful smile. “I knew that.”

      Margie just nodded, a tiny smile playing around her mouth. “Come over to supper some night this week, okay? You and Krista can swap stories about college life—she thinks I’m too old to remember back that far.”

      Andie gave a sputter of laughter. Margie was all of thirty-eight. “Sounds good—pick an evening and tell me when.”

      “Thursday. Right after work.”

      “I thought you were going to the symphony on Thursday night with that new guy in Product Design.”

      “Brad?” Margie made a face. “We went out twice. The first time, he took me to a romantic restaurant and spent the entire evening telling me all about his ex-wives. The second time, we went to a computer show and he spent the entire day telling me all about his mother. The third time he called, I told him I was washing the dog. He hasn’t called again.”

      Andie groaned, laughing. “Oh, Margie, I’m sorry! I sometimes think all the unattached men in this city come in two flavors—weird and seriously weird.”

      Margie smiled dryly. “You got that right.” The smile faded. “And the ones who aren’t just don’t seem to be able to see what’s right in front of them.”

      She could have been talking about Conn, Andie thought, but she wasn’t. Only Frank Czarnecki could put that look of gloom on Margie’s usually cheerful face. “You could ask him over to dinner,” she said gently. “Or to a movie.”

      “I know,” Margie said with a sigh. “If only he wasn’t so shy! I think he’s interested, Andie, I really do. But he doesn’t seem to know what to do about it. Until I met Frank, I didn’t know what a computer nerd was! It’s all he seems to care about.”

      “Back when Conn and I were in college, most of his friends were just like Frank,” Andie said sympathetically. “If a girl even looked at them, they’d stammer and drop things. Most of them started their own computer companies and are bazillionaires by now, but they still have the social skills of fungi. It goes with the territory.”

      “Except for Connor.”

      “Except for Connor.” Andie smiled. “He always did have more going for him than a triple-digit IQ. He went from grade school charmer directly to corporate tycoon and bypassed the nerd stage altogether.”

      Margie paused, as though wanting to add something. Then she just smiled. “Thursday evening, then. Mexican?”

      “Love it.”

      “Good. I’ll stock up on salsa and chili peppers and make it a night to remember. Krista’s boyfriend, Tad, will be there, but he’s an easy conversationalist. One grunt means no, two means yes and a shrug means he doesn’t know.”

      “He doesn’t talk?”

      “Who knows? I’ve never seen him with his mouth empty long enough to find out.”

      “I can hardly wait to meet him. He sounds like some of the guys I used to date when I was Krista’s age.” Laughing, Andie pushed back her chair and got to her feet, grabbing up a handful of reports from the corner of her desk. “I have to go over these with Conn. Hold my calls—unless it’s someone from Becktron.”

      “Did, um...?” Margie winced. “I saw that official-looking envelope from his lawyer in yesterday’s mail....”

      “His divorce decree. Signed, sealed and as final as they get.”

      “So, he’s single again. I suppose that means that Woodruff female will have her claws in him.” Margie’s eyes glittered. “For months now, she’s been hovering around like a vulture waiting for an accident to happen. You can practically hear her salivating at the prospect of hauling in the catch of the day.”

      Margie’s metaphors may have been mixed, but they made their point. “If she’s serious about landing him, she’s going to have to bring in the heavy-duty tackle,” Andie said quietly. “One sign she’s getting serious and he’ll head for open water.”

      “Let’s hope you’re right.” Picking up a handful of letters she’d brought in for Andie to sign, Margie turned and headed back to her own office.

      Andie stared blindly after her for a moment or two, then gave herself a mental shake and walked across to the door leading to Conn’s office. Olivia Woodruff. Interesting thought.

      Shrewd, beautiful and as cold as ice, she headed up one of the most successful corporate law offices on the West Coast. She’d wooed Conn for almost a year before he’d shifted Devlin Electronics over to her, and she’d never bothered hiding the fact that Conn’s business wasn’t all she was interested in. So far, Conn had held her at bay. But now...?

      Andie was still frowning when she gave a tap on Conn’s door, then pushed it open and went in.

      Conn’s office ran the full width of the building, a peaceful retreat filled with antiques and fine art, with plenty of polished dark wood and gleaming brass and leather. Her doing, of course. Had it been left up to Conn, he’d still have nothing in here but a dozen custom-wired computers, a phone and a stack of discarded pizza boxes.

      She smiled. Under the expensive suits and hundred-dollar haircuts still lurked that frighteningly bright college kid whose passion for electronics had given birth to a thriving corporation worth millions.

      “Hey, darlin’,” he croaked, looking up as she came in.

      “You look in fine shape,” Andie replied calmly. “Head hurts, does it?”

      Conn managed a groan, then wished he hadn’t. He closed his eyes—gently—and gingerly rubbed both temples. “I didn’t think twelve-year-old Scotch gave you a hangover.”

      She disappeared behind him and poured something into a glass. “Consumed in reasonable quantities, I don’t think it does.”

      “Cheap shot.”

      “Easy, anyway.” She set something on the desk. “Drink up.”

      Conn opened one eye and gazed blearily at the glass of bubbling liquid in front of him. “Quick or slow?”

      “Quick. It tastes like hell.”

      “Is it going to kill me or cure me?”

      “Do you really care?”

      “No.” Sitting back in his leather chair with another groan, Conn reached for the glass and downed the contents in three long swallows, giving a shudder as it hit bottom. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

      “Just a little.” Smiling, she strolled around behind him and settled her hands on his shoulders, kneading them gently. “Take a couple of deep breaths and repeat after me. I will never drink Scotch on an empty stomach again.”

      “Don’t mention Scotch,” Conn groaned. СКАЧАТЬ