All right, so it might take some doing. She’d left early the night before, the first time she hadn’t worked late the whole week. Chance, maybe. Or maybe not. He thought about the way her mouth had softened under his, the way she’d sighed and he gave a wicked smile. She might try to avoid him, but he wasn’t going to make it easy for her.
The door to the trailer opened and Riley stepped inside. “Jesus, it’s cold out there,” he burst out, unzipping his parka and throwing down his gloves.
Dev saved his file. “It’s winter. It happens like that.”
“You kidding? It’s March.”
“Barely.”
“Practically summer in some places. Remind me again why we’re not working in Florida?”
“Lack of a business license, lack of connections, not to mention the fact that we’ve got work lined up here for about a year and a half.”
“Besides that.”
Dev just looked at him. “Are we on schedule at the Peabody job or did you come over here to give me some more bad news?”
“You’re just cranky about coming back from your vacation to a few little kinks.”
“Not to mention a string of sixteen-hour days.”
“Hey, you take a month off, what do you expect? Just think how bad you’d have felt if you’d been gone all that time and we didn’t even miss you.”
Dev put his tongue in his cheek. “Oh, yeah, real bad.”
Riley flopped into a chair and swung around to stare at the white board that tracked the project. “So how we doing here?”
“Almost caught up. Just a few more nights and we’ll be on target. Want to take a look?” Dev slid his laptop toward Riley, but he just waved it away.
“Nah, the white board works for me, as long as it’s up-to-date.”
“Are you ever going to join us in the twenty-first century?”
Riley shrugged. “Hey, I’m in construction, why do I need computer stuff? I know how to snap a line and swing a hammer. That’s all I need.”
Dev snorted and worked on his planning program. The crews were finishing up the second floor carpeting, and he had a load of concrete coming in that afternoon for the new planters out front. All he needed to do was get fresh ceiling tiles installed in Taylor’s office that night and they’d be ready for doors and carpet the following week. Anyway, doing the molding would afford him another excuse to see her and do some more convincing.
Not to mention get another look at that face.
Riley sat behind his desk, pulling a set of plans from his drawer. “So you called my cousin yet?” he asked idly.
Dev let his breath out slowly and searched for patience. “No, I haven’t called her. Why would I?”
“I just thought you might want to give her a chance to explain.”
“I walked in on her giving a guy a blowjob at our Jack and Jill party. You want to tell me what there is to explain about that?” Dev yanked open his top drawer and searched for a pen.
“It’s just that she’s really upset. Are you telling me you never had a couple of drinks and did something dumb?”
Dev slammed the drawer. “Something dumb? For chrissakes, Riley, we were a week away from getting married.”
Riley stared at him a moment, then nodded. “Okay, okay. I was just asking.”
Dev shook his head. “Yeah, well stop asking already. It’s over, okay? Let’s leave it that way.”
IT WAS AMAZING WHAT A difference it made to cover up the white-streaked gray of the Sheetrock, Taylor reflected, admiring the freshly painted walls of the main office. True, left to her own devices she’d have chosen something more vivid, but the manila cream was a tad more creative than industrial white, and several steps up from bare drywall. Now if they could just do something about the ceiling and the floor, the place would look like a real business.
Taylor wandered up front where late-afternoon sunlight searched its way through the scaffolding outside and into the offices. The lobby area definitely needed some more pizzazz. She might not have a choice about the inner office walls, but there had to be something she could do to add some drama up front. Something to get clients excited about going away, something to give them the travel bug. Maybe a wall mural of a tropical scene in the entrance lobby, and some beach chairs. Give people the feeling they were already on vacation. Of course, she’d have to weigh that against the image she’d send her corporate clients. Granted, most of them dealt with her by phone, but still, she’d hate to send the wrong message.Then again, once she’d gotten them on contract, the business was steady, whereas walk-ins always needed to be wooed.
The tropical mural, she decided.
“Allie, dig out the decorator catalog for me, will you?” It might have been near the end of the day, but there was still time to look at things.
Allie reached for the bookshelf just as the switchboard bleeped. “Good afternoon, DeWitt Travel. Ms. DeWitt? One moment please. May I say who’s calling?” There was a click as Allie put the caller on hold and waved to Taylor. “It’s Leonard Preston from Pace-Miller.”
Adrenaline spurted through her. “Keep him on hold. I’ll be in my office in two minutes.”
Her phone was flashing when she reached her desk. Still, she sat and took a deep breath before picking up the handset. “Taylor DeWitt.”
“Ms. DeWitt, Leonard Preston, Pace-Miller. How are you?”
“Fine, thank you. And you?”
“I’m good. We’ve been reviewing your proposal. That was a very effective presentation the other day, by the way. Laid it all out for us quite clearly.”
“I’m glad it was helpful,” she said smoothly, silently wishing that he’d get to the point.
As though he’d heard her, he cleared his throat. “Well, we’ve had time to talk it over and do a little comparison shopping and we’ve decided to try DeWitt Travel for a twelve-month period under the terms we discussed.”
Exhilaration flooded through her. She wanted to laugh, she wanted to whoop, she wanted to jump for joy. Instead she maintained her calm. “Excellent news, Leonard. I think you’ll find it will be a beneficial relationship.”
“I’m sure of it.”
The grin was making her cheeks hurt, but she couldn’t stop. “As we discussed, service is effective as of right now. Do you need an additional orientation session for the administrative assistants?”
“Might not be a bad idea. We could set up a telecon for the remote offices, too.”
“I’ll arrange it. Just get me some dates that you think will work for your folks.”
“I’ll have my assistant call you.”
There was a singing in her head as she hung up the phone. This was big. No, huge. She had a half-dozen corporate clients already, but none on a par with Pace-Miller. Capturing that plum brought her to a whole new level. She whooped, and jumped up from her desk to go tell the troops. More business meant more work, certainly, but work that would pay off. Who knew, if the load became big enough, maybe they’d bring on another agent. She could set up a branch of the agency that would specialize in corporate travel, she thought dreamily. After that, who knew?
LIGHT WAS STILL STREAMING out of Taylor’s office that evening when Dev walked into the dimmed agency, a stack of accoustical tiles under his arm. For a moment, he simply looked across the room to the bright rectangle at the back. The fact that she was still there working well after business hours didn’t surprise him. The need for her that surged through him did.
Setting down the panels quietly, he paused near the open door of her office. He could hear her on the phone, laughter in her voice.“Time to celebrate, Jody honey. We scored big today, a giant-size corporate client. None other than Pace-Miller. Yes, that Pace-Miller. Drinks are on me, and dinner at Mama Sophia’s.” She paused and her voice changed. “Oh, no, I totally understand. Don’t you even think of giving up a chance to get laid for drinks with me. Okay, okay, don’t even think of giving up a chance at dinner with a nice guy. Yes, I think Jeff’s a nice guy.” There
was another pause. “No worries. We can go out tomorrow or Sunday. I do have other friends, you know. Sure. All right. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He heard the click as she hung up. “Well, hell,” she said feelingly. A minute passed, then she sighed and began tapping on her computer keyboard.
All pumped up and no one to celebrate with, Dev thought with sympathy. He counted to ten before he stepped into the doorway and knocked on the open door. “Got a minute?” Want to go to bed and not come out until next month?
Taylor looked up at him and blinked. “What are you doing here? It’s Friday night.”
He shrugged. “I want to get the job on schedule. You don’t have to be here, though. If you need to leave, I can close up for you.”
“No, I’ve got work to do myself,” she said, shaking her head. “Now I know why I’ve never gone on vacation before.”
“Sucks, don’t it?” he asked cheerfully. “On the other hand, sometimes the vacation is worth it.”
“Sometimes.” She met his gaze, and for an instant something flickered between them.
Taylor gave her head a quick shake and looked down at her desk for a moment, then glanced back up. “Well, don’t let me keep you,” she said briskly.
Dev nodded reluctantly. “Guess I’ll get to work.”
He turned to walk away. When he glanced back, he found her watching him. She looked immediately down at her paperwork. A tide of red flowed up her cheeks.
Interesting, he thought, beginning to whistle.
TAYLOR PICKED UP A COUPLE of the sheets from her printer and rose to go to the copier in the mail room, giving the sheets a final scan as she walked.
“Careful.”She jerked to a stop with her nose about a foot from Dev’s butt. He stood on a ladder just outside of her office door, hoisting an acoustical panel with a hole cut in it toward the ceiling. “Jog me when I’m slipping this hole over the sprinkler head,” he said over his shoulder, “and I’m liable to knock loose the little plastic doohickey that keeps it from turning on. It pops loose, we got ourselves a Cozumel style rainstorm.”
She couldn’t help remembering the last one she’d been in, and she knew, without a doubt, that that was exactly what he’d intended.
“Why don’t you just turn off the sprinkler system?”
“It would take too much time and I want to leave for dinner.” He slipped the tile in place surely and efficiently, then climbed back down to the ground to look at her. “Besides, you like to live on the edge, don’t you?” With an impudent look, he shifted the ladder over, grabbed another panel, and climbed up.
“Not when it includes my livelihood,” Taylor said. “Speaking of which, what’s the new timeline on the construction?”
Dev tipped the panel into place. “I thought maybe you’d like to go for the industrial look. It’s very popular at galleries.”
“Nice try, Carson. It’s been a week and I’m getting tired of concrete and partial ceilings.”
“Look, I’m doing my best to get this done, but the longer I stand here talking to you, the longer it’s going to take.”
“I have a right to know the latest timeline.”
“Not really. Strictly speaking, the landlord is the client. He’s the only one who needs to know.” He stepped down from the ladder and looked at his watch. “Look, I don’t want to waste time talking. I’m taking a dinner break. You want to find out what’s going on, come with me. Otherwise, you’ll just have to wait.”
“I’m not going out with you,” she said.
“Fine with me,” he returned, “but we’re wasting time here talking and I’ve got my mind on some crab cakes.”
“You’re serious.”
“Hell, yeah, I’m serious. I’ve been working for twelve hours now. You want to talk, you’re going to have to do it on my time.”
Taylor’s stomach growled and she flushed.
Dev grinned. “Let’s get out of here. We go get some food, I can tell you where we’re at, and you can tell me about your day.”
“Why would I do that?”
He looked at her. “Why not?”
11
THE PLACE WAS IN FELL’S Point, a divey little joint at the end of a line of shops. An old-fashioned neon sign stuck out over the door, the name slanting up in curling yellow letters.
“Leon’s?” Taylor gave him a dubious look. “I agreed to dinner, not a drink at a bar.”“It’s not a bar.” Dev opened the door for her. “The food’s good and it’s the only place I can get in wearing work clothes. You want fancy, you’re going to have to wait until I’m dressed for it.”
“This isn’t a date, Carson.”
“Whatever you say.”
Leon’s wasn’t a restaurant and it wasn’t a bar. It was a tavern. Maybe there was no sawdust on the wide-planked floor, but the walls were rough wood, the clock was a beer sign, and bowls of peanuts dotted the well-polished bar. Shadowed bulbs snaking down from the ceiling filled the room with pools of light and shadow. Tall booths lined two walls, offering privacy and darkness. A handful of tables crowded the center. On the far side, a low riser held a microphone and drums indicating the presence of a band. No surprise there. After all, it was Friday night.
How long had it been since she’d been out on a Friday night? Certainly it had been nearly forever since she’d been out with a man, not that this particular jaunt counted. This was just about taking a break and getting some information.
Music came from the jukebox, which leaned heavily toward blues, old R&B, and classic rock, judging by the selections.
“I’m surprised this place isn’t more packed on a weekend.”
Dev shook his head. “This is about as busy as Leon’s ever gets. It’s not hot with the chichi crowd, just with the regulars.”
“And are you a regular?”
He shrugged. “I’m not enough of a drinker to be a regular anywhere. I come here sometimes when I don’t want to hassle with cooking. It’s comfortable.”
It was, Taylor realized, looking around. It didn’t have the self-consciously architectural decor of the hot clubs or the aggressively retro kitsch of some of the chains. It was simply a place a person could be at ease, while away the time.
“You want to sit in a booth or at the bar?” Dev asked. “They serve at either.”
“The bar.” It was safer than one of the dim, intimate booths, she decided. On stools, out in the open, with the bartender hanging around to make conversation, it couldn’t help but be safe.
Then Dev caught her hand and led her to the far end of the room and she realized that she’d miscalculated. Here, in the corner where the polished wood of the bar dog-legged back to the wall was a dim nook just big enough for two stools. With the overhead rack for glasses hanging above them, it felt every bit as isolated as a booth might have. At least in a booth, they’d have been sitting across from each other, not side by side on bar stools, close enough to touch.
The bartender came over, a grizzled man with a dark moustache and a lived-in face that suggested nothing that happened in the tavern—or out, for that matter—would surprise him. Refreshingly taciturn, he served up their drinks with an economy of motion.
“Freddy’s the best part about this place,” Dev said.
“I thought maybe he was Leon.”
Dev shook his head and took a drink of his Guinness. “Nope, just a guy who knows how to serve drinks without talking too much.”
“You said you come here to avoid going home. I’d figure you’d want company.”
“I said I come here because I can’t face cooking,” he corrected. “I don’t mind being by myself. I think silence is kind of soothing.”
She felt the same way, but it still didn’t fit. “Why did you want to get married if you like living alone?”
He shrugged. “I don’t think living with someone means you never get peace and space. It shouldn’t, anyway.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“Yeah. The key is that the person you’re marry
ing has to believe that, too. If you can sit in silence with someone and be comfortable, then you know you’ve really got something.”
Freddie handed them menus. The selection was more ambitious than she’d have expected, leaning more toward crab cakes and baked halibut than burgers and onion rings. She chose Yankee pot roast and hoped she wouldn’t be sorry.
“So what’s the update on the construction?” Taylor asked, laying down her menu.
“Not so fast.” Dev raised his glass. “Tell me about your day.”
She flushed. “Why?”
“Because I like listening to you talk.”
“Running a travel agency isn’t exactly exciting stuff,” she warned.
“It means enough to you that you do it for a living.”
She gave him a suspicious look. “This isn’t some kind of ploy to get me into bed, is it?”
Humor flickered in his eyes. “I don’t use ploys and I already know how to get you into bed.”
She’d have been better at shutting him down if he hadn’t made her want to laugh. “Why don’t you tell me about your day, instead?”
“I spend all day talking to people. I’d like to listen for a change. What’s the best thing that happened to you today?”
Taylor hesitated, then decided to take him seriously. “I got a new client.”
“You mean you sold a new vacation?”
She shook her head. “No, this is a big fish. I landed a corporate client, a multinational one that just moved to Baltimore.”
“Who is it?”
“Pace-Miller.”
He gave a low whistle and raised his glass. “You don’t mess around. How’d you land that fish?” he asked, clinking his glass against hers.
Taylor grinned. “With lots of good bait and twenty-pound test line. And it’s going to stay landed, if I have anything to say about it. Pace-Miller is going to make a huge difference to my bottom line.”
Dev glanced down at where she perched on her bar stool. “Oh, I don’t know, I kind of admire your bottom line as it is.”
She laughed before she could remember to be ticked off.
Slippery When Wet Page 12