After-Hours Negotiation: Can't Get Enough / An Offer She Can't Refuse. Sarah Mayberry

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СКАЧАТЬ have displayed over the panty hose incident. Case closed.

      Still, her legs were in pretty good shape… He gave himself a mental slap. What, was he in high school again? Could he perhaps think of something that did not pertain to the bare-legged woman sitting opposite him?

      He was surprised how much effort it took for him to keep his gaze away from those legs and that tan. Concentrating fiercely, he imagined the next stage in restoring the antique dining table he was working on as a surprise for his mom for Christmas. It would look great in the corner of her living room, and he knew she would love it. Not that he’d be there to see her reaction. His parents were expecting him to fly home to Sydney, but he would send the table instead. He wasn’t up for the big family get-together this year. The gruff sadness of his dad, the empty place at the table, the grief in everyone’s eyes when they looked at him and saw Robbie. Jack had enough trouble with his own grief without dealing with the weight of theirs.

      For starters, there’d be the inevitable kitchen-sink conversation with his mom as she washed the vegetables for dinner. It was her favorite territory for heart-to-hearts, although in a pinch she’d take whatever venue was offered. She’d fix him with her knowing blue eyes and tell him it had been three years now, and he needed to let go. But she didn’t know how it felt. None of them did. Then his dad would invite him to tour the garage to check out his latest power tool acquisitions. And in between explaining the clutch on his new hammer drill, he’d make some kind of reference to Robbie and hope that Jack would open up. But that was never going to happen. His grief was like a rock inside him, granite hard and permanent, a part of him now.

      No. He wasn’t going home for Christmas this year. He’d find somewhere in the Caribbean instead, and go scuba diving and dally with bikini-clad tourists. His parents would understand. They’d have to.

      Across the car, Claire shifted and cleared her throat.

      “Do you think we should make contact with Ted again, see how things are going?” she asked.

      He checked his watch. They’d been stuck in here for an hour now. He shrugged.

      “Guess it couldn’t hurt.”

      Standing, he reached for the phone, quickly becoming aware of how much warmer it was in the top half of the car.

      “I’ll never bitch about air-conditioning again,” he murmured as he waited for Ted to pick up.

      “What did you say?”

      He glanced at her, caught by the arrested expression on her face.

      “Air-conditioning. Usually I don’t like it—dries everything out. But I’m beginning to understand why it’s a necessary evil in a building this size.”

      She gaped at him, surprise in every line of her body.

      “That was true?” she said, something like awe in her voice.

      He frowned. What on earth was she talking about?

      “What?”

      She seemed to suddenly realize what she’d said. She shrugged, elaborately casual, dropping her eyes to avoid meeting his. “Nothing. Is Ted not answering?”

      He frowned, aware that something had just happened there. He was about to pursue it, but Ted chose that moment to pick up the phone.

      “Yes, number six?”

      “Ted, we were just wondering how things are going? Rescue team in action yet? Any news on when the power might be back?”

      “Negative on the power situation. Not expected to be up and running until O–one hundred. Rescue team is in place, and setting up. Estimated extraction time per car—half an hour to an hour.”

      Jack suppressed a smile at Ted’s military-style reporting. This was probably about as exciting as it got in Ted’s line of work.

      “Right. So, when can we expect to be, uh, extracted?”

      “Car six has only two occupants, and, as such, is a low priority at this stage,” Ted said evasively.

      “How long, Ted?” Jack insisted.

      A pause.

      “Let me check on that for you. Hold on.”

      He rolled his eyes.

      “Because I have so many other places I can be right now,” he muttered.

      “What’s he saying?” Claire asked, hope in her voice.

      “Don’t get excited,” he warned her just as Ted picked up the receiver at the other end again.

      “Best estimate is between three to five hours, Mr. Brook.”

      “Thanks, Ted. Don’t be a stranger.”

      Jack put the receiver down and turned to face Claire. She was standing now, and he saw how short she was without her high heels on. Tiny, really—she barely came up to his armpits.

      “Three hours is the minimum, I’m afraid.”

      He watched her closely, worried she might flip out again.

      “Relax, I’m not going to freak out again,” she assured him. “In fact, this little experience may have cured me for good.”

      They sank down into their opposing corners again, and he made a special effort to avoid looking at her as she settled. It didn’t stop him from imagining her thighs again, of course, but it gave him the illusion of self-control….

      Silence took over again, and he replayed the small moment before Ted had picked up the phone. What had really happened then?

      “Before, when I was talking about the air-conditioning, you said something,” he prompted, watching her face carefully.

      She was all surprise, widening her eyes innocently as she tried to remember. Pity she sucked as an actress.

      “Did I? I don’t remember,” she said.

      “Right. And you never inhaled, either.”

      His challenge hung between them for a moment, then she shrugged.

      “Fine. You want it, you got it. When you broke up with Judy Gillespie from Accounts, she told everyone about how you made her turn off her air-conditioning when you stayed the night, even though she got heat rash if it got too warm. I didn’t believe it at the time.”

      He just stared at her, his mind numbed for a moment by this revelation. She raised her eyebrows at him, obviously expecting an answer.

      “Nice to know my private life is public property,” he finally managed to say.

      She laughed, one of those short, sharp mocking laughs that women use to cut men off at the knees.

      “And what’s that supposed to mean?” he squawked. He sounded more than a little defensive, and he forced his shoulders to relax.

      “Come on. You’ve СКАЧАТЬ