by Dani Collins
“I thought it was your shampoo,” he said, setting the tiny bottle back on her desk. “I could smell it in your hair when you were getting coffee this morning.”
Her mechanical pencil slipped out of her grip. “Really. I’m, um, trying to work.”
“Me, too. Sign this and we’ll both get on with our day.”
“I wish you wouldn’t play me off against him.”
“I’m not. I’m bringing my request to the principle who actually reads and considers.”
“But I don’t have time to read and consider.”
“I also brought that list of equipment you wanted from Quinn.” He rustled through the papers he held and offered her a page, then drew it away when she reached for it. “You give me what I want, I give you what you want.”
“No, you give me the list or I’ll swear at you.”
“I’ve been sworn at all morning. I’m starting to like it.” He flicked the list onto her desktop and pulled up a chair, settling into it with a sigh. “Dad doesn’t like change.”
“I hear that. Literally.” She skimmed the list and let out a sigh of her own.
“What?” he prompted.
She debated briefly, but there was no one else she could confide in. It wasn’t like she’d be telling him anything he couldn’t find out himself if he took a minute to look.
“This,” she said. “It’s a classic example of why I didn’t accept the financial statement without an audit.” She turned the paper and showed him what she was reading. “This figure? That’s what is shown as the value of capital assets. Yet you look up here and half of them have been crossed off and a bunch more written in. So does that make the financial statement accurate? No. It’s out by at least thirty thousand dollars on this line alone.”
He tilted his head. “You look cute with glasses.”
She’d forgotten she was wearing them and adjusted their position on her nose. “Every piece of paper I touch has a story like this.”
“But you’re fixing it, right?”
“No!” She dropped it and looked at the ceiling. “That’s what the whole world thinks an auditor does. They think you do all the work over again and do it right this time. If we did that, it would take the same amount of time it took to do all the work the first time and audits would last for years.”
“Instead they only feel that way.”
She gave him a filthy look that made him chuckle.
“I know what auditors do. I’m just having fun.” When she raised a challenging brow, he said, “You look at a company’s procedures and test the data. If everything is copasetic, you put your stamp of approval on the financial statement. If you come across a gray area, you suggest adjustments.” He waved at the list. “Ask Olinda to fix it.”
“She’s kind of overworked right now, fixing all the other errors and irregularities I’ve stumbled across.”
“Really?” He sobered.
“I’m not questioning anyone’s integrity,” she hurried to add. “I haven’t come across anything that leads me to believe there are intentional misstatements.”
“But...?”
She bit her lip, desperate to get some things off her chest.
He reached back and swung the door shut with a muted bang. “Tell me.”
She’d been watching Sterling all week. He took his role here as seriously as she was taking hers, intent on improving operations at every level. This might be valuable information he could use. Besides, who else could she talk to? Walter?
“It’s just... I’ve seen books in this kind of shape before.” Tension drained from her as she opened the valve. “The technical term is ‘cluster-fuck.’”
His mouth quirked. “I’m familiar with that term. Used it once or twice myself since I’ve been here.”
She leaned back with relief. “So it’s not just me.”
“Nope.”
“You know, I wouldn’t have been able to hire anyone to do this audit. The professional risk is so high I don’t like attaching my own name to it. I can’t believe this company makes money.”
“You should take a walk with me. You’ll wonder how they make beds.”
“And what you said about resisting change?” She leaned forward on her desk. “It’s epidemic. You wouldn’t believe the flack I’m taking from Olinda. Frankly, I’m afraid to take this list to her and ask her to clean it up. She’ll hate me.”
“I’ll do it,” he offered.
“That’s not the point. The point is, there’s so much. I’m feeling time pressure and—” She pointed at the pages he still held. “More just keeps coming.”
“You can’t refuse to read this.” He tilted the pages against his chest, protective. “I’m closing with the Boston distributor, but it won’t work without this upgrade.”
“I can’t do it today. Tonight I have this thing—” She scrunched her hair in her fists and let go. “That’s another thing. People figure, now that I’m in town, I have nothing better to do than spend my evenings shopping in their living room.”
Sterling frowned. “Tupperware? Do people still make that stuff?”
“They do, but this is something else.”
“Sex toys?”
“No.” She came close to smiling at that. “Dried flowers and art, or so I’m told. Olinda is redecorating.” At least Britta would be there.
“You know, I delivered and set up Olinda’s Nordic Queen yesterday. I kept thinking the place needed some dried flowers and art.”
Did he have to make this fun for her? She was trying to resist him over here.
“Good eye,” she shot back. “Anyway, that’s what I’m doing tonight so I won’t get to that proposal until tomorrow night at the earliest—”
“Actually, you’re busy then, too. The LFBA meets every third Friday at the country club.”
She snorted. “I’d rather spend the rest of my life shopping for dried flowers than attend one meeting of the Lying Effing Bastards Association.”
“Hostile. What’s that about?” He seemed genuinely puzzled.
Her valves seized. All her desire to confide dried up as she thought of the way those men had treated her at the hospital a couple of weeks ago. The way she and her family had been treated for years by the top tier in this town.
“I’m just under the gun,” she muttered. “Too busy for a social dinner.” She picked up her pencil and found her place on the list of figures.
“Paige, the ninety employees on the floor depend on their jobs and the whole town depends on those ninety people having jobs. We need to reassure them.”
“My mom knits security blankets. This could be a win-win.”
“You’re acting partner.”
Partner. That sounded hideously official. “Only until I sell.”
“Fair enough, but you are. People are wondering if they can rely on the factory the way they used to. They need to see you. Both of us. They want to shake our hands and hear us tell them all is well. That’s networking one-o-one.”
She knew he was right, but no way did she want to say so.
“I’ll think about it. And I’ll look at that—” She reached for the papers he handed her, and set them in her briefcase, “—over the weekend if you’ll stop fighting with your Dad.”
“Well, if he’d quit refusing to do things my way...”
“I’m sure he feels the same, but it’s distracting. As someone just told me, the employees need reassurance. If you need to make him yell, do it away from the factory.”
“Like at the LFBA mixer?”
“You’re having fun again?”
“Why do you think I come up here?” He rose to his feet and reached for the door knob, but halted, his grin fading into a serious expression. “Well, here’s your problem right here.”
She followed his gaze to the top of the filing cabinet that was usually hidden by the open door. A cigarette, cold and dangling an inch of ash, balanced on the edge.
“That wasn’t Dad’s. It wasn’t even there y
esterday,” she said. “Who left it?”
“I don’t know, but they could have burned down the building.” He walked out, shouting for Quinn.
Chapter Thirteen
Sterling was in the habit of going straight to his kitchen window when he walked into his grandmother’s house. It looked toward the back of Grady’s house and he liked to check that all was well over there. He had to be discreet about it this evening though. His mother was at the sink, washing dishes.
“There’s a casserole in the oven,” she told him. “Take it out in twenty minutes, let it sit for ten and remember to turn the oven off.”
“Thanks, Mom.” He kissed her cheek while glancing across the yards. The sun was glinting off the windows and the curtains were closed. Paige usually opened them when she got home, but she had still been working when he’d left. He’d slipped away early to stop at the hardware store.
He’d spent the week letting his mother dust and vacuum while he had shopped his parents’ basement for furniture that his father’s father had made. His mother had stored it there because it didn’t suit her décor. It suited him, though. One piece, a cedar wardrobe from Roy Furnishings’ earliest days, had only needed a minor retrofit to convert it into a television cabinet. He was on his way to check the early news when his mother’s voice stopped him.
“Your mattress arrived. They tried delivering it to Grady’s. I had to run over and tell them to come around the block.”
“That’s weird.” He went to the bedroom to check it.
The king-size bed was the only new furniture in the house and overkill for this tiny room, but he’d brought the frame home from the factory anyway. He would have been cramped in his grandmother’s Original Heritage Double and he liked the headboard drawers and modern design of Roy’s Future Generations line.
The bed looked good. His mother had made it up with dark blue sheets and a duvet in rippling shades of blue.
He tried the mattress, thought it felt softer than when he’d tested it at Fildew’s. When he sat up, he bounced a couple of times, checking to see what kind of noise the frame made. A faint creak. Just enough to add some atmosphere if he got lucky.
Was Paige home yet?
He really ought to stop thinking about her that way, but it was getting harder every day. Literally.
She’d been so cute here that day, so young looking, confessing that she had liked him. He’d been so obsessed with her in high school, he’d nearly lost it in his jeans that long ago night, just from kissing her. How could she not have known that?
He wasn’t much better now, thinking about her all the time. Not just fantasies, either. He liked her. She was funny. Self-deprecating and smart.
Single.
So what did he think? That they could finish what they’d started? Yes please, his dick cried, but with the buy-back and everything else, he couldn’t afford more complications.
No more teenaged antics.
He went back to the kitchen where his mother was drying the dishes, staring out the window.
“She’s coming over here, bold as you please. Honestly, the least she could do is walk along the fence-line, beneath the trees, where no one would see her.”
Paige cast a long shadow when she cut around the broken section of fence between their properties, still limping, but no longer using crutches.
She wore the thigh-hugging skirt she’d had on at the office this afternoon, but had abandoned the jacket in the heat of the Indian summer afternoon.
Who’d have guessed that the lace decorating her cleavage beneath the non-descript jacket had actually been a translucent tank? He could practically see the bow between the cups of her bra.
“Is this a regular occurrence, Sterling? Because your father does not need gossip at this stage of his campaign.”
What campaign? He hadn’t even formally declared.
“The last time she came over, someone had broken into her house.” Sterling stepped onto the porch. It was only two feet off the ground, but when Paige halted below him, it was high enough to give him a nice view down her top. He leaned on the rail, enjoying the vantage. “I thought you were busy with dried flowers tonight. What happened? Another break-in?”
“Brazen theft. My mattress was stolen by a Mrs. Evelyn Roy.”
“I beg your pardon?” His mother came out the door behind him, and looked down her nose at Paige. “That’s libel, young lady.”
“Actually it’s slander, Mom. Libel is if you do it in print. Mom’s here,” Sterling said to Paige.
“I see that.” Paige showed her teeth in a forced smile. “Nice to see you again, Mrs. Roy.”
Sterling thought that tank would look really good without the bra. Really good. He cleared his throat. “Mom took delivery of my mattress for me this afternoon. Now she’s making me dinner.”
“Aren’t you lucky? I think you took my mattress by mistake, Mrs. Roy. I was expecting one today, but when I called Fildew’s, they said you had signed for it.”
“I signed for Sterling’s mattress.” She slung her tea towel over her shoulder. “Your bed is Not. Here.”
Gosh, Mom. Say it with more emphasis. We might have missed the subtext.
He offered to make a call.
“No, I’ll do it tomorrow.” Paige checked her watch. “I have to pick up my mom right now. See you at work. I imagine I’ll see you at the LFBA mixer tomorrow night, Mrs. Roy? Sterling said it was important I make an appearance, being your husband’s partner, but you’d know better. Perhaps I’m not needed?”
“I—” His mother couldn’t immediately decide whether she should continue being snotty, or succumb to the flattering remark about her superior knowledge. Yes, Paige knew how to play his mother, all right.
Inside the house, a buzzer went off.
“Your supper is ready, Sterling. Eat before it gets cold.” She marched in.
He tried sharing a smile with Paige over the way his mother was trying to regress him, but she didn’t see the humor.
“Let her talk you out of my going, ‘kay?”
“I’m not suffering alone.”
Curling her lip at him, she turned to go.
He almost called her back with a remark about sharing his mattress, but he stifled it. There was fantasy and there was reality. Hot as his memories were, making a move in real life probably wouldn’t turn out any less disastrous than it had the first time.
“Sterling. Your supper.”
And he should really get rid of his mother before inviting a woman home.
~ * ~
Friday turned into the kind of work day Paige would normally recover from in the bathtub while reading about a Regency virgin reforming one of London’s most notorious rakes. Unfortunately, she had the LFBA thing.
This after spending half the day caught between Sterling and Walter. Sterling had pressured her to come up with the numbers to make all his upgrades happen while Walter resisted, then took issue with the procedural changes she wanted Olinda to make.
Between today, and yesterday’s mattress debacle with Sterling’s mother, she was feeling peevish. She was considering not showing at the LFBA thing.
But she was a partner. Amazing how one little word had the power to provoke both terror of profound responsibility, along with a reassuring sense of belonging. She checked. Yes, that’s how she felt. Like she had a right to be at Roy Furnishings. Which was strange, but she kind of liked it.
Even if being a partner forced her to view her wardrobe in a whole new light.
In this moment, Paige was actually sorry that Rosie had left for Palm Springs and wasn’t home to confer over her dress. She didn’t even know why she had brought this one from Seattle, only that when she went on the road for any reason, this dress went into the bag. It packed well and dressed up and down easily.
So why was she hesitating to wear it?
Because it was a little too sexy and inviting to wear around a man she found sexy and secretly dreamed of inviting.
Som
eone knocked.
Paige zipped the back of her dress and ran down to answer.
Sterling waited on the stoop, his navy suit flawless, his hair damp and tousled, his jaw shiny from a fresh shave.
“Did your mother buy that suit for you?”
“I had Patty ship some of my things Monday. They arrived this morning or I would have been wearing my Dad’s clothes.” He glanced past her, down the stairs toward the door of Lyle’s suite. “I don’t see Lyle’s truck. Has he been home?”
“I haven’t seen him all day.”
“Good. Ready to go?”
“Why is that good?”
“No reason. Let’s go.”
“You’re not here to tell me the dinner is cancelled?”
“No, I’m bumming a ride. I let Cliff Cedric talk me into turning in my rental and test driving one of his lease-backs. It won’t start.”
“Oh.” She didn’t want to give him a lift. Being alone with him was difficult.
Especially when his gaze went down her front and came back with the kind of masculine appreciation that asked, Is this for me?
She tightened her grip on the edge of the door. “Something more formal would be better, right?”
“Hell no. You look great.” He sent another leisurely look down the body-hugging black silk knit and frilled V-collar that ended between her breasts. “Let’s go.”
“I still need shoes and lipstick.”
His gaze went to her mouth. He started to say something, shook his head, grinned with self-mockery.
“What?” she asked as she went to the closet to find the heeled sandals she’d left in a box when she’d moved back here.
“Never mind.”
“Just tell me.” She ignored the fading tenderness in the bottom of her one foot as she tugged on the shoes.
Sterling stepped into the house and shut the door behind him. “I was going to tell you not to wear any.”