Part-Time Fiance. Leigh Michaels

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СКАЧАТЬ to the Bannister deal.” RJ leaned forward. “I want to bring Jason up to speed on what you’ve been doing with Elmer Bannister’s numbers.”

      Delainey pulled the folder from her pile and showed him the projections she’d done on how they could pull together the capital that Elmer Bannister needed in order to expand his factory.

      RJ listened patiently, running a fingertip over the figures. Jason fidgeted.

      Finally, RJ nodded. “It looks good,” he said. “Bringing together Elmer Bannister’s product and that particular group of investors. What do you think, Jason?”

      Jason shrugged. “It’s not bad. I’ll call the investors and make the proposal.”

      “Excuse me,” Delainey said. “You’ll make the proposal? RJ, I put this together. I should be the one to—”

      RJ was shaking his head. “Not this time, Delainey. You could probably pull it off, but—”

      Darn right I could pull it off, Delainey thought irritably.

      “But we don’t want to risk your hard work by putting you on the front line like that just yet. You’ll help Jason when he makes the presentation, get some experience that way.”

      While Jason takes the credit. But Delainey knew that further argument would get her nowhere. “Yes, sir.”

      RJ grinned at her. “I think that’s all then. I’ll let you two work out the details.” He pulled his chair up to the desk and reached for a pen.

      Dismissed, Delainey gathered up her folders. Jason ostentatiously held the door for her.

      As if I’m such a little feminine flower that I couldn’t manage to pull it open for myself. She started down the hall.

      “Delainey,” Jason said. “A word of warning. RJ likes his people to be a team. So the question is, are you a team player?”

      She didn’t look at him. “I’ve never had a problem working in groups, Jason.”

      “Good. Then you’ll be eager to be a part of the next deal I’m working on. Heard of Curtis Whittington?”

      “Hasn’t everybody? What’s the merger king working on this time?”

      Jason laughed. “Cute nickname—but I’d suggest you not call him that to his face when we have lunch with him tomorrow.”

      “He’s in town?”

      “Well, we’re not having lunch by conference call. Unless you’d rather not be on the team?”

      Delainey kept her voice calm. “I don’t have any other plans.”

      Jason laughed. “That’s what I thought. Century Club, one o’clock. In the meantime, do your homework.”

      He strolled off down the hall, leaving Delainey chewing her bottom lip and wondering whether he was setting her up or offering her the chance of a lifetime.

      Her secretary spent half the afternoon at the library, and Delainey went home a little early but with a briefcase stuffed to bursting with reading material about Curtis Whittington. Too bad she’d sworn off fires, she thought absently. It would be pleasant to sit beside a blaze tonight with a glass of wine, reading her way through the stack of magazines Josie had culled.

      For an instant when she pulled up in front of the town house complex, she thought she had been caught in a time warp and flung back to the previous day. A big truck was parked in front, and two burly men were coming down the sidewalk. But it wasn’t a moving van this time, just a delivery truck from the department store. “Everything’s in but the bedside tables,” one of them called as she got out of her car. “We’ll be done in a minute.”

      “I thought you were supposed to be here this morning.”

      “Oh, it worked out better to reverse the deliveries,” the man said cheerfully.

      “Better for whom?” Delainey said under her breath. Not for Emma Ashford, that was certain. Poor woman, casually offering to do a good deed that she expected would take an hour or two at most, and then having to wait around all day….

      There was one good thing about it as far as Delainey was concerned, though. She wouldn’t have any trouble tracking Emma down to give her the flowers she’d brought as a thank-you gesture.

      She gathered up the sheaf of pink roses and her bulging briefcase and followed a pair of bedside tables up the sidewalk. Coming in out of the sunlight, she blinked in the sudden dimness inside the town house. For a minute all she could distinguish was movement in the kitchen.

      “Emma?” she called. “I can’t thank you enough for—”

      But as her eyes adjusted, she saw that it wasn’t Emma in the kitchen. It was the cretin-next-door, and he seemed to be making himself right at home.

      Sam Wagner looked up. “Flowers?” he said gently. “For me? Oh, honey—you shouldn’t have!”

      CHAPTER TWO

      DELAINEY stormed across the big room and set her briefcase on the breakfast bar. The magazines she’d stuffed inside slid out and cascaded across the counter and onto the floor. “What are you doing in my house?”

      “At the moment,” Sam said, “I’m wiring in a new outlet. But if you object, I can stop.”

      Her gaze dropped to his hands. His long fingers moved quickly and with a grace that surprised her, winding a pair of colored wires together and twisting a plastic cap over the joint.

      She’d forgotten all about the outlet. Emma must have told him it needed repairing—but why? “Are you an electrician?”

      “Not exactly, so don’t tell the union I’m fiddling with wires.” He fitted the outlet back into the box in the wall and reached for a screwdriver to fasten it in place.

      “Then…are you the maintenance man for the complex?” That made sense, Delainey thought. With a hundred units on the estate, it would certainly be a full-time job to keep up with minor repairs for all the residents. And having a handyman living right on site would be a good idea, too, because he’d be able to respond faster in an emergency.

      The use of a town house might be a part of his pay—and a job like that would certainly explain Sam Wagner’s faded jeans and sweatshirt and running shoes. A maintenance man never knew what messes his day might include. Though today, she noted, he was wearing khakis and a pullover sweater. He’s positively dressed up.

      “Not officially.”

      Delainey felt like stamping her foot. “Then what are you?”

      “You sound so suspicious that I’d rather not admit to anything.” Sam gave a last twist to the mounting screw and put the plastic protective plate back in place over the outlet. “There. It should be as good as new.” He gathered up bits of wire and insulation and dumped them in the trash can. “Well, now that you’re here to supervise the delivery team, I’ll just take my flowers home and get them into water.”

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