by Ginna Gray
Standing with his fists planted on his lean hips, he stared in the direction the vehicle had taken, his eyes narrowed beneath the brim of his straw work hat.
"Who are you, you bastard? And just what the hell are you up to?"
* * *
Eleven
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With a sigh, Maggie tossed her pencil on the desk, slumped back in the chair and rubbed her face with both hands. The deeper she dug, the more concerned she became. And the more puzzled.
There didn't seem to be any one thing that she could put her finger on that could account for their dismal profit picture. More like a whole laundry list of things.
And they had occurred in every phase of the operation, from the orchard to the cannery to the big rigs that delivered their products.
It was all documented in various reports from the different department heads, but as far as Maggie could tell, no one had put them all together.
After hours of poring over production reports, memo files, purchase orders, lab tests, shipping dispatches and various other documents, she had compiled a chronological record of mistakes, bad breaks and just plain odd or unexplainable occurrences.
In the last year they had suffered frequent machinery breakdowns, huge shipments of sugar and other supplies going astray, customers' orders lost, shipments arriving at the stores damaged or shorted, others being delivered to the wrong place, expensive repairs and tire failures on their fleet of over-the-road trucks, and orchard irrigation systems mysteriously malfunctioning, flooding some trees and parching others.
Worst of all, and potentially the most damaging, there had been an abnormally high number of food batches that had tested positive for contaminants, in some cases, even dangerous microorganisms, something that had never happened in their company before.
The Mother Malone's brand had maintained an exemplary record for hygiene and safety for more than eighty years. Luckily, thanks to their rigorous testing, the contaminated batches were discovered before the food left the cannery. Had they gotten onto the supermarket shelves, the results could have been disastrous.
Even if no one had become ill from eating the products, a recall would have been a public relations nightmare that would have done irreparable damage to their reputation and hurt sales.
As it was, the destroyed batches of food added up to big losses—hundreds of man hours, tons of produce and canning supplies and sundry other operating costs, all gone to waste.
Taken singly, no one occurrence could have done serious damage to their P & L statement, but when added up, the cumulative effect was staggering.
On the surface, the incidents appeared unrelated, just a random series of bad breaks. But were they?
Could they be clever and systematic attempts to cripple the company? Maggie wondered.
It was a stretch, but not a difficult one. Her mind immediately latched on to the name of the person she thought most likely to do such a thing.
Martin wanted her father to sell Malone's, had been pressuring him to take the steps that would allow the sale to happen.
Maggie frowned. The question was, why? They wouldn't be dealing from a position of strength, which meant they'd have to settle for a depressed price. Martin had to know that over the long haul he stood to gain much more if the business remained healthy and in the family.
Maybe he was shortsighted and just wanted to make a quick buck. Maybe he had debts that no one knew about. Maybe he gambled or drank. Or maybe he was so lazy he wanted to stop working. Not that Martin killed himself working.
Maggie's mouth twisted. "Or maybe you're just paranoid when it comes to the creep and looking for a way to blame him," she murmured.
Giving the matter a bit more thought, she realized that there were others who could be behind the scheme. If there was a scheme.
The Tolivers hated the Malones, and had for generations. Their family owned Toliver Feed and Grain, the Double TT Registered Hereford Farm and had interests in several other local businesses, including a small pulpwood company and the bank, but they still coveted Malone Enterprises, and were openly antagonistic toward Maggie's family.
Then there was the possibility that a dismissed employee might be seeking revenge. Over the years, Malone's workforce had been fairly stable. Smalltown folk were generally honest and hardworking, and in a place the size of Ruby Falls, people were happy to have a decent job. Still, there were a few disgruntled ex-employees who had gotten the sack for one reason or another.
If a Malone employee suffered some sort of misfortune or financial setback, her father had been known to help out, even to the point of generously retiring the debt himself, but he would not tolerate theft or malingering or dishonesty in any form.
It was also possible, Maggie supposed, that someone from Bountiful Foods was trying to force them to sell. If so, they'd probably bribed an employee to do their dirty work. But who?
There was one other possibility. Maggie didn't want to believe it, but it occurred to her that even Jo Beth could be responsible for all the mishaps.
Like herself and Laurel, their younger sister had had the run of the place all her life. Also like them, Jo Beth had undoubtedly picked up a general knowledge of the operations simply through being exposed to it on a daily basis.
Which meant that the opportunity was there. And her little sister was desperate to escape the yoke of responsibility Jacob wanted to hang on her.
Would she go so far as to destroy the family business? Their legacy and source of income? Would it even occur to her to cause some of the setbacks they'd suffered?
No, of course not. She was just a kid.
But then … kids did crazy things. Impulsive, irrational things. And Jo Beth had always been clever and creative.
"No, dammit!"
Disgusted with herself for having such thoughts, Maggie shot out of the chair and started pacing. When she reached the glass wall a movement in a patch of bright light on the cannery floor caught her eye and her heart leapt right up in her throat.
Instinctively, she jumped back from the glass and unconsciously kept moving in reverse until she came up against the wall beside her great-grandmother's photograph.
She stood absolutely still, struggling to calm her jangled nerves and thudding heart. It annoyed her that she was behaving like such a ninny, but she couldn't seem to help it. Since the episode in the orchard three nights ago she'd been jumping at the least noise or unexpected movement.
Gathering her courage, Maggie eased forward again and peered down at the cannery floor. Her gaze zeroed in on the brightly lit area and the man who was bent over a piece of machinery. Suddenly he straightened, and she let out the breath she had been unconsciously holding. Dan.
Her relief soon turned to unease as she watched him. She hadn't spoken to him since he had driven her home three nights ago. Neither of them had uttered a word during that short drive, and the instant he had stopped his truck she had mumbled a terse "good-night" and bailed out.
Maggie sighed. She didn't know which bothered her most, that sizzling kiss, or that he'd seen her cry. Twice.
So she'd been avoiding him. Which was just plain dumb, not to mention cowardly. The last really chafed her pride. Maggie Malone did not run from anyone or anything.
Watching him, it suddenly occurred to her that Dan had access to every inch of the cannery and orchards. He could easily have tossed contaminants into the cooking vats or jammed machinery or misdirected shipments, or caused any of the other catastrophes.
Trouble was, he had no motive to ruin them. Just the opposite. If they sold to Bountiful Foods, he would most likely lose his job.
Maggie tapped her chin with her forefinger, her gaze fixed on Dan. Coming to a decision, she muttered, "All right, Mag, time to face the man and get past it."
She grabbed the legal pad that contained her scribbled notes and left the office through the side door out of her father's office, which led directly into an enclosed stairway. At the bottom, Maggie pushed open the heavy steel d
oor and stepped out onto the cannery floor.
In the vast quiet, her footsteps echoed hollowly, alerting Dan to her presence. By the time she drew near the spot where he was working he had straightened and was wiping his hands on an orange work rag, those pale eyes tracking her approach.
Maggie was used to people staring at her. That came with the territory. But there was something about that steady, silvery gaze that rattled her. Especially after what happened the other night.
To compensate, she held her head high and returned the stare with a bold one of her own. For good measure, she added a sultry smile and put a tad more hip action into her walk than normal.
She was so intent on holding his stare and keeping her composure, not until she was only a few steps away did she notice that he had stripped to the waist.
Maggie's mouth went dry. Jeezlouise, she thought, staring helplessly. If the man was something to behold fully clothed, half naked he was awesome. She didn't dare even try to imagine what he's look like completely nude for fear her heart couldn't take it.
"Something I can do for you, Red?" he drawled after she'd stood in front of him for several seconds, speechless as a stump.
"I, uh…" Maggie forced her gaze up past the wedge of silky dark hair sprinkled over impressive pecs, only to encounter broad shoulders and bulging biceps covered by smooth bronze skin. She swallowed, hard. "I wanted to talk to you about the problems Malone's has been experiencing."
She had meant to sound brisk and businesslike, but her voice came out husky and deep, with a hint of a quiver.
Annoyed with herself, she cleared her throat and looked around. "What are you doing down here at this time of night, anyway?" she demanded in a sharper tone than she had intended.
"I could ask you the same question. Please tell me you didn't walk here."
Though cursed with a redhead's fair skin, Maggie rarely blushed, but even that oblique reference to the other night brought a rush of warmth to her cheeks.
The faint twitch of Dan's mouth told her he'd noticed, but all she could do was brazen it out.
"No, I drove. But what's it to you, anyway, handsome? You didn't believe anyone chased me."
"I was wrong. I found footprints." While he told her what he'd found Maggie's uneasiness grew. She felt exposed and vulnerable. The thought of that creep standing in the shadows watching them made her skin crawl.
"Of course, it could have just been a teenager," Dan said when he'd finished. "I've run high school kids out of the grove a few times. It's a favorite make-out spot, and once a group of boys got liquored up and as a prank they stripped a boy who'd passed out and left him in the middle of the orchard buck naked."
"I see. Do you think it was a teenager?"
Dan hesitated, but only for an instant. "No. This guy was obviously waiting for you when you left the office. Which means someone's been watching you and knows that you've been working late every night. Most likely he was just trying to scare you off, but we don't know that for certain."
"Which means someone doesn't want me nosing around."
"That would be my guess. The question is, who?"
Maggie shook her head. "My first choice would be Martin, but he was in Little Rock Thursday night."
"Mmm. Well, maybe it was just a kid playing a prank."
"Maybe." She glanced at the open toolbox.
"You never did tell me what you're doing here so late."
"The pump on this machine blew out an hour before closing yesterday and shut down two lines. I'm trying to install a new one before the shift starts in the morning."
"Another mechanical problem?" She consulted the list she'd complied. "That's the ninth one this month."
"Not surprising. It's only to be expected with machinery this old. Most of it has been here since Jacob was a boy. There's not a piece of equipment in the place that I haven't repaired a dozen times or more."
"That doesn't sound very cost effective. When machinery begins to break down repeatedly, generally speaking it's time to replace it."
"You're right. The whole system needs to be updated. I've suggested that to Jacob, but he says the company can't afford that kind of expenditure." Dan shrugged and picked up a wrench. "So I try to keep it patched together as best I can."
"What about all these other problems?" She handed him the yellow legal pad on which she'd listed the various incidents that had occurred. "Since you're the general manager, I assume you know about these."
He scanned the list, then handed it back to her. "Yeah, I know about them," he said over his shoulder, bending over the disabled machine again.
The action drew Maggie's gaze to his tight butt, and her brains scrambled.
Dan stretched to break loose a stubborn bolt, and a thin line of white skin appeared above the waistband of his jeans, in stark contrast to the deep bronze of the skin above. It occurred to Maggie that he must often work in the orchard without his shirt. The mental picture that brought to mind did nothing for her equilibrium.
The bolt refused to budge, and Dan held his hand out behind him. "Get me that mallet out of the toolbox, will you?"
"What? Oh. Just a sec." Maggie shook herself out of the trance and pawed through the tools until she found the mallet and put it in his outstretched hand.
"Thanks," he muttered, and gave the end of the wrench several solid taps.
Struggling to put her brain back in gear, Maggie tore her gaze away from the rippling muscles in his back and tapped the yellow pad. "Uh, don't you think there's something odd about all these incidents?"
"Every company has accidents and foul-ups."
"But Malone's has never had so many over such a short period of time. I checked."
Dan bore down on the wrench and the bolt broke free. He removed it and turned to face her. She noticed there was now a smudge of grease across his shoulder and another on his right forearm. Exertion had beaded his upper lip and forehead with sweat and more sheened his shoulders and chest beneath the haze of dark hair.
"So what are you saying?"
"That maybe they weren't accidents or mistakes. Maybe someone caused all these things to happen."
She expected him to laugh or look skeptical, but he appeared to seriously consider the idea.
"It's possible, I suppose. Do you have any thoughts on who it could be?"
Encouraged, Maggie told him her theories about Martin, the Bountiful Foods people and a possible disgruntled ex-employee. She didn't mention Jo Beth.
He mulled the matter over, then nodded. "You could be right. But even if you are, which one is it? And how're you going to prove it?"
"I don't know. I was hoping you'd have some suggestions."
"Not offhand. We sure as hell can't hire the kind of security we'd need if the company is scraping bottom like Jacob says."
Unhooking the shop light he'd rigged over a pipe, he thrust it into her hand. "Here, hold this close to the machine for me."
Maggie obeyed without question, though she did wonder just when and how she'd lost control of the situation.
Of necessity, she had to stand close and lean over him to aim the light on the area where he was working—so close her left breast brushed against his shoulder with each breath she took.
Dan seemed not to notice. His concentration was focused on repairing the machine. He worked steadily for several minutes in silence, except for an occasional grunt of exertion and a mild curse when he barked his knuckles loosening another bolt.
Then, without warning, he turned his head and looked into her eyes.
Their faces were mere inches apart, so close she could feel his breath feather over her skin. The smell of clean sweat and grease drifted to her nose, mingled with a scent that was all male.
His gaze locked with hers for the space of three heartbeats, then drifted over her face, touching each feature like a caress before returning once again to her eyes.
"Do you have any idea how damned beautiful you are?"
The question came out on a r
aspy whisper that conveyed both anger and desire, and sent a shock-wave of heat coursing through Maggie.
She was a master at batting down pickup lines with a sassy quip or a laugh, but at that moment her tongue seemed to be stuck to the roof of her mouth.
Not that it mattered. She was so befuddled she couldn't have remembered her name if someone had asked. All she could do was stare back into those mesmerizing silver eyes with their tiny radiating spokes of charcoal, while her heart beat like a kettledrum.
She felt her blood pulsing in shockingly intimate places on her body, and panic began to flutter in her stomach. What in heaven's name was wrong with her? The compliment was far from the most elegant she'd ever received. Come to that, she wasn't even sure it was a compliment. More like an accusation.
Yet all she could think about was what it would be like to have his mouth on hers again, to feel his arms pull her against that magnificent body.
She finally managed to unstick her tongue, but it was no use—her brain refused to engage.
"I … um…" She drew an unsteady breath and licked her dry lips.
Dan's gaze dropped to her mouth, his eyes growing hot beneath heavy lids as he tracked the provocative action.
Closing his eyes to mere slits, he leaned closer, and Maggie's heart leapt right up into her throat and hammered wildly.
Anticipation thrummed through her, tightening her chest so that she could barely breathe. Every cell in her body tingled with yearning as she felt the pull of him, drawing her closer. Her breath shuddered out on a ragged sigh and her eyes began to drift shut.
The steel door at the bottom of her father's private stairway burst open and banged against the adjoining wall like a gunshot.
Maggie jerked back with a strangled cry. Dan cursed.
"Maggie! Stay right where you are," came Martin's furious shout as heavy footsteps echoed through the building. "I want to talk to you. Now!"
Her appalled gaze shot to the glass wall of her father's office. He had to have spotted her and Dan from there. After a moment of panic she realized that from that angle he couldn't have seen much, just the two of them standing close together. Nevertheless, heat rushed to her cheeks. Her alarm had barely begun to subside when it returned, stronger than before. Jeezlouise, what had she left spread out on the desk?