Название: Part-Time Fiance
Автор: Leigh Michaels
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Контркультура
Серия: Mills & Boon Cherish
isbn: 9781474015189
isbn:
“Of course you would have to go take a look,” she said irritably. “I hope you satisfied your curiosity.”
Sam shrugged. “I wasn’t being nosy.”
“Oh, no, of course not!”
“I was just doing my job as a supervisor, keeping a close eye on things. I’d hate to have you come home and find out they’d put it together upside down or something.”
“The real question is why you were supervising at all. What happened to Emma?”
“Bridge club, every Tuesday afternoon at the mansion. When the delivery people didn’t show up on time, she saddled me with the job and went off to play cards.” He began gathering up tools. “You must have been sleeping on a futon for a long time to make you go all out like that when you bought a real bed.”
Delainey willed herself not to blush. How she chose to furnish her bedroom was certainly none of his business. “She left you here alone?”
“You’re complaining? She could have just put a note on the door telling the delivery people to try again tomorrow.”
And since it wasn’t Emma’s bed, Delainey reminded herself, who would blame her for setting limits on her Good Samaritan offer? “I’m not complaining exactly. Just surprised, since she said she’d take care of it.”
“I know.” Sam nodded thoughtfully. “You’d think by the time a woman hits seventy-five, she’d learn to be responsible for doing what she says she’s going to. On the other hand, now you have your outlet fixed too.” He opened a yellow plastic case and began to fit tools into the slots and crevices inside. “Maybe you should go up and make sure they’re doing things right.”
Maybe she should, Delainey thought, because with any luck, he’d be gone by the time she came back down.
“Don’t forget to stomp your feet on the stairs to warn them—just in case they’ve been trying on your lingerie up there.”
She pretended not to hear him. “The outlet—what do I owe you for your work?”
His eyes brightened. “You mean you’ll pay me as well as bring me flowers?”
“I can’t imagine you wanting the flowers.” She opened the cabinet where her skimpy supply of dishes resided and got out a big, heavy glass mug. “I’ll stick them in water till Emma gets home. Which unit is hers?”
“She didn’t tell you?”
“She just said she lived around the corner.”
“Well, she does, sort of. That corner.” He pointed.
“What? That’s where you live. Wait a minute—you mean you and Emma—? No.”
“If you’d like to be precise, she’s my maternal grandmother.”
Delainey flipped a switch to turn on the light over the sink. Nothing happened. “Oh, great. You’ve messed up the rest of the wiring!”
“No, I just pulled the breaker so I wouldn’t electrocute myself while I worked.”
“More’s the pity,” she said under her breath. She filled the mug and with difficulty fitted in the bunch of stems.
Sam casually shook a finger at her. “Just for that remark, I should make you turn the power back on yourself. No, on second thought, I’ll do it. Before you ever touch the electrical system, I want to be at a safe distance. Easter Island might be far enough.”
Delainey wasn’t listening. “You live with your grandmother?”
“Last time I looked, it wasn’t a crime.”
“Aren’t you just a little old for that? And this is two days in a row you’ve been hanging around here in the afternoon…Are you on vacation or what?”
“Extended,” he said crisply.
There was something about his tone of voice that puzzled her for a moment. “Oh. You’ve been laid off? I’m sorry.”
Sam nodded. “Downsized. Given the pink slip. Axed. Made redundant. Shown the door. Have you ever noticed how many ways we have to describe losing a job?”
“Fired,” Delainey added helpfully.
“I was not fired.”
“Sorry. I was just playing the game. I’ve never actually been out of work, but—”
“Very lucky for you.”
“I know. I’ve been with the bank for ten years now. But I do understand how it affects a person to lose a job—it can be like losing his identity.”
“Oh, I’m not at that stage yet,” Sam said absently. “I still recognize myself in the mirror when I shave.”
Why bother to waste compassion on the man? “Well, good luck finding something to do.”
“Gran’s keeping me busy. Everybody she knows has something that needs fixed.”
That wasn’t what Delainey had meant, but she decided not to press the point. It would be no wonder if Emma Ashford was trying her best to keep her grandson occupied. Having a grown man lying about the house all day would get old in a hurry.
Sam crossed the kitchen to the pantry closet and moved aside half a dozen cans of condensed soup so he could reach the electrical panel at the back. “Good thing you haven’t stocked up the shelves,” he said. “Why they always put these things in the darkest and most inaccessible spot is beyond me.”
There was a click from the direction of the closet, and abruptly the light over the sink glared straight into Delainey’s eyes. Feeling a bit obstinate, she plugged the toaster into the outlet he’d repaired and pushed the lever down.
“What’s the matter? You didn’t think I could do it?” He leaned both elbows on the breakfast bar.
Inside the toaster, the coils glowed red. She unplugged it. “I was just making sure. So that’s what you meant earlier about not being the official handyman around here. Emma has you lined up as the unofficial one.”
“It keeps me out of trouble.”
Delainey had her doubts that any kind of job could accomplish that goal. “Well, thank you. Let me know what I owe you for the work.”
Sam picked up the last of the tools. “Oh, I couldn’t charge a fee.”
“Why on earth not?” She was so intrigued she forgot she was still holding the toaster. “Seriously, Sam, this could be a nice little business. There must be a huge demand for someone who’ll do the little jobs that regular contractors don’t want to bother with—things like broken outlets and drippy faucets and loose door handles.”
“If that’s a polite way to ask me to fix your drippy faucet and your loose door handle—”
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