Part-Time Fiance. Leigh Michaels

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СКАЧАТЬ answering service.” She eyed the fitted case with its neat but limited assortment of screwdrivers and pliers. It was definitely an amateur’s kit, the kind of thing she’d have to buy for herself sometime soon. “You’ll need some better tools, of course, and maybe a truck or a van.”

      “And the necessary licenses and permits. I wasn’t kidding about the electricians’ union.” He closed the toolbox with a click that sounded almost final.

      “Oh. I hadn’t thought of that. But getting the money to start shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll help you put together a business plan and a loan application.” She delved into her briefcase, scooping out the few magazines which hadn’t already escaped when she set it down, and pulled out a gold case engraved with her initials. “Here’s my card. We do this kind of thing all the time.”

      He took the bit of glossy paper and looked at it thoughtfully. “Delainey Hodges, Business Loan Officer, National City Bank.”

      “Think it over and call me.”

      He tapped a finger against the card. “Do you always make loans so impulsively?”

      She was annoyed. “Look, Sam, I didn’t promise to back this enterprise.”

      “It certainly sounded to me like that’s what you were doing. Do you get paid based on how many loans you can talk people into taking?”

      “I just think it would be a great idea. And I didn’t guarantee you a loan, I said I’d help you apply for financing. If the package looked good, then the bank would probably be happy to give you a loan.”

      “I don’t doubt it. The criteria seems to be if the client can prove he doesn’t need the money, the bank will lend it.” He put her business card in his pocket.

      “That’s not the way it works. What happened to put you off banks, anyway?” she asked shrewdly. “Did somebody repossess your car after you lost your job, or what?”

      He didn’t answer, but flicked a fingertip across Curtis Whittington’s face on the cover of a financial magazine. “Unless it’s somebody like this, of course. Then the bigger the loan amount and the riskier the ride, the happier the bank is to help out.” The magazine slid a little, showing that Whittington’s face was on the one underneath as well. Sam’s eyebrows rose. “Are you a fan?”

      “Of the merger king? Not exactly. But I’m having lunch with him tomorrow.”

      “Lucky you. Do you want me to take the flowers?”

      “No, I’ll bring them over later. When did you say Emma will be home?”

      “About six. My feelings are hurt, you know. What did Gran do to deserve flowers?”

      “Hey, I offered to pay you. Twice.”

      “I remember. I’ll let you know when I figure out what kind of reimbursement I can accept without losing my amateur standing. Of course, there’s always—”

      Delainey tried to swallow a gasp. He’s only jerking your chain, she told herself.

      “Though maybe it’s not worth the risk,” he said earnestly. “If you could cook, your pantry wouldn’t be so empty.”

      She was too startled to stay silent. “You were going to ask me to cook something for you? Not—” She noticed that his deep blue eyes were starting to sparkle like moonlight on a lake, and swallowed hard.

      “I’m always willing to listen to an offer,” Sam said gently. “What sort of currency did you have in mind?”

      “Nothing.”

      “Right. Well, I’ll keep thinking. I’m sure I’ll come up with something.”

      “Don’t twist your brain into knots over it.”

      Sam smiled. “I’ll tell Gran you’re going to stop by. She’ll be pleased—she was making noises earlier today about giving you a housewarming party.”

      “That’s lovely of her, but—”

      “Yes, isn’t it thoughtful? I already know what I’m going to get you.”

      Delainey couldn’t stop herself. “What?” she asked warily.

      “An accessory for the next time you use your fireplace.”

      “If you’re thinking of buying me a poker, I should warn you—”

      “Nothing so dull. I’m going to get you a smoking jacket, so you won’t have to keep ruining your pajamas. See you later, sweetheart.”

      Sam had left the garage door open when he’d gone over to Delainey’s to rescue Emma, so it was easy to put the tool kit back on the shelf on his way through.

      Delainey had been right on target about one thing, he thought as he lined the plastic box up precisely with the dust-free outline it had left on the metal shelf. But it was one he hadn’t expected she would pick up on at all.

      You’ll need some better tools, of course, she’d said almost casually. And she was right—he’d practically twisted the head off one of the cheap screwdrivers just putting that outlet back together. But he hadn’t expected that she’d know the difference.

      The woman might not be able to light a fire, but at least there were a few practical bits of knowledge floating around under all that shiny gold-flecked hair. And a good thing it was, too, because if she was going to hard-sell business loans, she’d better know what she was talking about.

      And that had definitely been a hard sell she’d given him. For a minute there, Sam had half expected to find himself in the home-repair business without ever having had a chance to refuse. Scarier yet was the fact that the longer she’d talked, the more it had started to sound like a good idea.

      Of course, loaning the money to set up a small home-repair business was a far different proposition from dealing with Curtis Whittington. The merger king, she’d called him. The merger maniac was more like it.

      He wondered if Delainey was trying to hard-sell Curtis Whittington, or if things were the other way around.

      The exterior trim on every single town house at White Oaks was basically the same, and the homeowner’s covenant that Delainey had signed along with her down-payment check made it clear that it was to remain that way. No extra awnings, purple shutters, or odd-shaped mailboxes were allowed, and Delainey suspected if a pink plastic flamingo appeared on a front lawn that a note from the manager would soon follow, giving the bird instructions to migrate.

      “There’s a thought,” she mused. If Sam Wagner got to be too annoying, she could line his driveway with neon-colored pinwheels and park a painted plaster statue of a jockey next to the front door. But of course it wouldn’t be Sam who would have to take the nasty call from the complex manager, it would be Emma.

      So much for a good idea.

      Somehow, despite the rule about individualizing the town houses, Emma Ashford’s stood out as more personal than the units Delainey drove past on her way in and out of the complex. A potted pine tree covered with red bows stood off to the side of the front door, a holly wreath hung above the СКАЧАТЬ