Extension cords snaked through the door from a generator a few doors down. The growl of drills came from the far end of the room, where the crew was already replacing missing panels of Sheetrock. The swollen, discarded panels sat in a pile on the concrete floor. Taylor tasted grit in the air.
“Peter,” Dev called.
A Nordic-featured blonde looked up and set aside the drill he held, walking over to Dev. “Hey, boss, what’s up?” he asked, nodding at Taylor and Nicole.
“I need a status report,” Dev returned.
Peter smiled at Nicole, then focused on Dev. “Sorry. They’ve got maybe another three hours to get the rock hung, then we need to mud it. I’ll be keeping an eye on things here for a while. They’ll probably be finished by the end of the day. We’ll need to have the heaters in overnight. When are we going to have the power up in here?”
“I just checked with Ron,” Dev said. “He’s saying early afternoon we should be live.”
Peter nodded. “If we have the heaters up overnight, then the Sheetrock guys can do the second coat of mud tomorrow and finish on Wednesday. One more day for sanding and we should be all set. Call it Friday for good measure,” he finished.
“That’s the soonest you can do?” Taylor asked.
“Some things you can’t rush,” he said equably.
Dev nodded. “Stay on them, Peter.”
“He can stay on me anytime,” Nicole muttered into Taylor’s ear.
“Down, girl,” Taylor said over her shoulder, then turned back to Dev. “So what’s the story?”
He was scratching numbers on his clipboard, then he looked up. “You heard Peter. For the Sheetrock alone, we’re looking at four days minimum, not counting painting.”
“Not good enough, Carson, try again.”
“Look, the plaster that covers the seams has to dry before we can sand it. There’s no way to hurry it, it’s not a matter of working nights or something.”
“But we ought to be able to come in and use the front part of the room now, right?”
“You want to work with banging in the background and plaster dust sifting into your hair?”
“If you could get some of the furniture out of my office, I could work in there. The other agents are going home. It’s just me. I can shut the door.”
“You could if you had one,” he said mildly.
“Look, I have a presentation I have to get done, and to do that, I need my workspace,” she told him, desperation vying with irritation for control of her voice. “Hang plastic from the ceiling if you have to, I don’t care, but I need to be in here.”
“You’re going to need to ditch the fancy clothes and wear jeans.” He studied her and then nodded slowly. “All right, if you don’t mind the concrete, we can get you in today. We’ll curtain off the area and get your office clear. Does early afternoon sound okay?”
She nodded.
“We’ll bring out the reception credenza and a desk or two.”
“If you can just clear out my office and the mail room so I can get in there to work, I’ll be fine.”
Dev nodded. “The guys can finish hanging the rock and mudding while you’re here. We can do the flooring and wire the fixtures at night. It won’t be pretty, but you’ll be in business, assuming you don’t mind us being in and out of here.”
“As long as we’re open, and it doesn’t last forever, I don’t care.”
“Then take a break and come back at one-thirty. We’ll get the furniture out. You’ll be ready to go by afternoon.”
Taylor turned to Nicole. “Why don’t you take the rest of the day and work at home? No reason you should wait around.”
“What about you?” Nicole protested.
“I want to be here to make sure it gets done.”
“It’ll get done,” Dev said mildly.
“Yeah, that’s what the landlord said when I left for the Caribbean.”
SHE WAS MUCH TOO RESTLESS to sit, Taylor thought. The brisk air blowing off the Inner Harbor had her heading away from the waterfront. It felt good to walk. Maybe if she walked far enough, she could figure out what to do about Dev Carson. How the hell was she supposed to look at him, talk with him without remembering the past week? How was she supposed to talk with him without wanting to feel his skin under her hands? It had become habit, addiction, fixation.
She shivered as she thought of the feel of him sliding inside her, the warmth of his body against hers. It was a little unsettling, how quickly they’d fallen into the rhythm of laughing, of touching, of being together. It had been eerily perfect, almost as though they were lovers reunited rather than newly discovering each other.It was the withdrawal pangs that worried her the most, though. Waking up that morning without the sleepy weight of him against her, without the warmth of his hand curved over her waist had left her depressed and discouraged. Instead of being happy to plunge back into her life, she’d found herself fighting to stay in dreamland, vaguely hoping she’d awake with Dev.
She shook her head to ward off the thought. If she’d learned anything from her disastrous marriage, it had been to beware of the romancers, of the charmers, of the ones she thought she couldn’t live without. They were the ones who were disastrous to live with. Like Dev, who in such a short time had insinuated himself into her days. Now, he was threatening to unleash chaos in the professional life she’d worked long and hard to build.
But worse, far worse, was the chaos he’d unleashed in her head.
9
“HAVING A CORPORATE CLIENT relationship with DeWitt Travel not only saves you money but time.” Taylor was into her pitch and rolling smoothly. She felt confident in a power suit the color of goldenrod and a cream silk blouse, using her laser pointer to detail the flashy briefing chart that she’d been working on until midnight the night before. “Your dedicated agent will have detailed information on each of your travelers. You’ll get itemized group billing that will show the price paid versus lowest available. We can offer you discounts with the hotel chains listed. Our arrangements with them allow us to offer special packages any time you’re flying your remote reps or clients into town for meetings.”
She paused, softening them up for the kicker. “Based on your corporate travel for 2002, we could have saved your company approximately $58,000 last year in airfare alone. Your briefing packet contains a summary of the terms.” Taylor took a breath. “Any questions?”The lights turned on and the office managers of Pace-Miller Enterprises that sat around the mahogany conference table looked at her with interest. The carpet underfoot was thick and plush. To her left, floor to ceiling windows gave a high-rise view of the Inner Harbor. With satellite offices scattered around the world, Pace-Miller would launch any corporate travel agency’s business into the stratosphere. They’d just moved to town, and Taylor was going to get their business if it killed her.
Leonard Preston, chief financial officer, looked thoughtfully at the list of figures in front of him. “Very impressive, Ms. DeWitt. Have you ever considered a career in sales?”
Taylor grinned, relaxing imperceptibly. “You get the right property, the facts sell themselves,” she said lightly.
“Yes, well, they’ve certainly gone a long way toward doing that today,” he said. “It’s a very appealing package. We need to review this, obviously, but we should be able to get back to you within the week. Thanks for taking the time to come out.”
Taking the time? If they only knew what a luxury it was to be in an office that had carpets and light fixtures, Taylor thought ruefully. Out on the street, she faced the inevitable comedown. There was something electrifying about the corporate environment, playing with the big boys. As much as she enjoyed building her agency, she was fully aware that DeWitt Travel was small potatoes. Part of her yearned for a chance to test herself more, to maybe go back and get a business degree, see what kind of career she could parlay her skills into.
Another example of her flightiness, her family would no doubt say. She could hear it already. Dump
your grandmother’s trust fund into this pie-in-the-sky travel agency idea and then lose interest in it. Typical Taylor.
She stopped. Stick with the business, that was the thing to do. She was in a rough patch right now, but overall things were going strong. If it wasn’t glamorous, at least it was profitable. Maybe in the summer, once the construction snafu had smoothed out, maybe then she could think about trying to take a night class or two, just to see how she liked it.
And maybe she could leap tall buildings with a single bound.
THE LINES OF FLIGHT NUMBERS and fares marched across the screen, showing every possible way to get from Baltimore to Chicago. Taylor keyed down her screen, bringing up itineraries. “Sorry, Sid, there’s no K class availability for Friday night. I can get you a seat, but you won’t be able to upgrade.”
“This is my sixth trip to the coast in the past two months. I can’t take cattle car or I’ll go ballistic. Taylor, honey, if you love me, get me an upgradable fare. I’ll come over and kiss you,” he wheedled.“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“I keep telling you, I’m a hot ticket.”
“I’ll tell your wife that when she calls to confirm your vacation reservations,” she said, tucking her tongue in her cheek. As part of the business development team for a local Internet company, Sid Hayes spent as much time on the road as off. Over the past two years, their phone relationship had veered from straight business to friendly banter.
“Tattling to my wife? You don’t play fair, DeWitt.”
“I’m not worthy, Sid.” She clicked the keys some more. “I can get you upgraded on the Salt Lake City to San Jose section of your trip, but not Baltimore to Salt Lake. Let me check something, though.” On a hunch, she changed the itinerary and was rewarded with a hit. “How do you feel about flying out of Washington?”
“That could work. Feed me some numbers.”
She’d just started to call up flights, fingers sending the keys clacking, when she heard the front door open. Since everyone in the front office was supposed to be gone, she craned her head to look out her door.
Dev Carson walked down the center of the room carrying a cylindrical heater. Something skittered around in her stomach. There was no reason a man should look so outrageously sexy in dusty jeans and a faded flannel shirt over a once-white T-shirt, but he managed it. His hair was no better combed than it had been in Mexico. His chin was dark with stubble. A worn leather tool belt hung low on his lean hips, like a gunfighter’s pistol belt.
He wasn’t her type, she told herself. She liked classy, sophisticated men in suits who went to the ballet. Dev Carson was off the radar.
But still, her mouth watered. Pavlov’s dog, she thought, just Pavlov’s dog.
There was a squawk out of the receiver where she’d let it fall away from her ear and she jumped. “Sorry, Sid. Okay, we’ve got you out of Washington at the same time, upgradable all the way across. Want to walk through it?” Dev ferried in two more heaters while she gave Sid flight numbers and arrival times. “We got you the hotel discount, by the way. You’ll receive it on check-in.”
Dev walked up and stood by her desk a moment, then leaned against it to stare down at her as she worked. The cuffs of his shirt were folded back to show strong, sinewy forearms. It made her think of watching his hands on the tiller of the catamaran. It made her recall the feel of his hands on her skin. Abruptly, as vividly as though it were happening, she remembered lying on her back, his mouth driving her up, his hands on her breasts as she clutched those hard forearms.
“Hello. DeWitt, you still there?”
Taylor cleared her throat. “Sure, a rental car is no problem.” She tapped at her keyboard, navigating the software. “Okay, I’m e-mailing you the itinerary with rental car and hotel right now. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“I’ll be right over with that kiss.”
“Great, I’ll give your wife a call and get her over here to watch.”
Dev looked over with a raised eyebrow.
“You’re merciless, DeWitt,” Sid said.
“I try.”
She hung up and turned to Dev.
He studied her, his eyes that cool, drift-glass green. “You sound like quite the pro.”
“I have my moments. What are you doing here?” Direct was the best tack, she decided. The thing was to focus on business, not on the feelings rippling through her. He was a vulnerability she couldn’t afford to have, a risk she couldn’t afford to take. It was that simple.
“I need to do some detail work and set up heaters to dry the mud on the Sheetrock. When are you heading out?” he asked casually.
Now, she wanted to reply, but she had work that had to get done. More to the point, she had too much self-respect to flee. They were both adults. She could handle him. If she wasn’t interested, she wasn’t interested, it was that simple. “I’ve got a couple of hours work to catch up on.”
“You sure? It’s going to get pretty hot in here with three heaters going,” he said, eyeing her suit.
“Can’t you wait to turn them on after we leave?”
He shook his head and lit one heater, then the next, then the next. “They’re butane. Open flames. They need to be watched or else we’ll have bigger problems than drying mud.”
“If you’ve got to run them, then run them.” She shrugged. “I don’t mind the heat.” Even as she said it, a breath of warmth brushed over her. She was surprised at how quickly the butane heaters worked. It had to be the heaters, she told herself.
“Feel free to take off anything you need to,” he said, his eyes lingering on hers. “No reason to be shy around me.”
“I’m fine.”
“That you are,” he said, and walked off.
Automatically her head turned to follow him. She cursed herself mentally for watching, but those lanky legs in faded denim were too good to miss. Pavlov’s dog, she thought.
“Nice suit, by the way.” He called back over his shoulder. “Looks almost as good as your bikini did.”
She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a response, she told herself. Instead she opened her bookkeeping program. Corporate billing hadn’t been done since she’d left for the Caribbean several weeks before. If she was going to stay in business, she needed revenues coming in pronto.
Out in the main office came the sound of a drill and noises of a hammer on wood. He hadn’t bothered to tell her what he was working on, of course. He probably thought she was the type who would come looking for him, just to watch the flex of the muscles in his forearms, the play of back and shoulder under his shirt. He probably thought she’d still be hung up on his body, on his pretty face.
He didn’t know her at all, she thought, rising to take a stack of invoices into the mail room.
One thing he did know was the heating ability of the butane heaters. With three of them aimed at the wall just next to her office, the air was rapidly approaching stifling. Taylor unbuttoned her jacket and hung it over her chair before she left the office.
She didn’t precisely look for him on the brief trip to the mail room next door. After all, it wasn’t as though she cared what he was up to, so long as he didn’t bother her. It wasn’t like she was trying to catch a glimpse of him bent over to measure the molding around a door, his ass framed in those faded jeans. In fact, she didn’t care if he was around at all.
Her office, when she returned to it with a bottle of water from the refrigerator, was hotter than ever. Kicking off her shoes helped; slipping out of her panty hose and slip was even better. The printer hummed, spitting out another invoice. Despite the drop in walk-in business since the start of construction, she actually wasn’t doing all that bad, she thought with some relief. The corporate income was keeping her above water. And if she loathed the hour or two that it took to update her records and print all the bills, she knew it was critical.
As the Pace-Miller deal was critical. If she landed that one, she was golden. She threw a few hypothetical numbers into her spr
eadsheet and beamed at the results. And it wouldn’t be just general travel that she’d be working on. The Pace-Miller CFO had already asked that she set up their national sales meeting for late spring. Somewhere warm, he’d said, content to leave the details to her. Somewhere they could have the meetings in the afternoons and evenings and leave the attendees free to explore during the day, a way to make them feel cosseted while still getting work out of them. Grand Bahama, she mused, or maybe the Cayman Islands. Somewhere with hot sun and golden sand and water the color of palest turquoise.
Before she could stop it, her mind slid back to warm sun and whispering waves, to the periwinkle sky and the fantasy tracery of the coral reefs. If she closed her eyes, she could put herself back there, lying on her sun couch, feeling the heat of the sun soaking into her skin. Feeling hard, work-callused hands rubbing sunscreen into her back. Feeling those rough hands on her breasts while he drove into her from be—
“If you closed your eyes, you could pretend we’re back in Mexico.” The words had her jumping in her seat. Dev stood in her doorway, his flannel shirt gone, the short sleeves of his T-shirt showing off the hard curves of his biceps. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”
The flush crept up her cheeks. “I was…I was just taking a break.”
Dev glanced over at the panty hose and slip tossed on her guest chair and raised his eyebrows. “Must have been some break.”
Now she was blushing furiously, he noticed. “Did you want something?” she asked, an edge to her voice.
You, naked, on top of me. “I just wanted to let you know I’m installing the molding around your doorway here.”
“Be still my beating heart. Am I actually going to get a door next?”
“Good things come to those who wait.” Good things like making love with her, though he didn’t think he’d find it very easy to wait for that. Not when he was looking at the soft vee of skin where the neckline of her blouse fell open, while the sheen on her skin reminded him of the way she’d looked after they’d just tumbled out of bed.
Slippery When Wet Page 10