Читать книгу The Matchmaking Machine - Judith McWilliams - Страница 9

“So tell me, Sherlock, what am I supposed to do about our visitor?” Richard asked.

“Why ask me?”

“Because you’re the one who told me not to open the door.”

“I didn’t mean permanently,” she said and then hastily lowered her voice, having no idea just how solid the door was. She most emphatically didn’t want Romanos to know she was here. He couldn’t report what he didn’t know to Worthington.

“Maybe if we just ignore him, he’ll go away?” she suggested hopefully.

Richard frowned as Daniel suddenly got more insistent and began to pound on the door. Normally, he appreciated his personal assistant’s dogged determination to get things done, but in this instance, it threatened to mess up his plans for Maggie.

“Impatient soul, isn’t he?” Maggie said. “You sure can tell he’s Worthington’s right-hand man.”

Richard ignored the pounding. Daniel could wait. For what he paid the man, he could wait quietly, too.

“Why do you say that?” Richard asked curiously.

“Because according to office gossip, Worthington is a real mover and shaker in the business world. That type never waits patiently, so it makes sense that he would surround himself with the same kind of people. And with Worthington due to arrive in New York tonight, it also makes sense that his assistant would want to report in as soon as possible. I’m just surprised he isn’t camped out at the airport.”

Impeccable logic, Richard thought. As smart as she was, it would be impossible to fool her for any length of time, but he hoped keeping his identity a secret from Maggie would be possible for at least one night.

Maggie winced as Daniel attacked the door again.

“He clearly has no intention of going peacefully into the night she said regretfully. “We’re going to have to let him in.”

“I could try telling him to go away and come back later,” Richard suggested. Whether Daniel would or not depended on whether or not he recognized Richard’s voice through the distorting effects of the wood.

“I think we’ve tried his patience enough,” she said with a glum look at the entrance. She could almost feel the hostility bristling through it.

“Why don’t you go see if your sweater and bra are dry while I let the guy in. I’ll give him my best ain’t-nobody-here-but-the-plumber routine.”

Only too happy not to have to face Daniel, whom she’d met Monday when he’d arrived from San Francisco and disliked at first sight, Maggie hurried back into the kitchen. This had been the most unsettling day. And meeting Richard had been the defining point. Who would have thought that she would find the most appealing man she’d ever met under a cabinet in a strange bathroom.

Not that she’d met that many men, she conceded. Mostly, she just avoided them. It was safer that way. Men were a huge complication that she hadn’t been able to afford in her life. She had been too busy, first studying and then working to establish her career. Too busy proving to herself that she wasn’t the least bit like her mother. Or her father. The acid burn of anger that thoughts of her father always engendered overwhelmed her and she briefly closed her eyes, took a deep breath and resolutely banished him back to oblivion, where he belonged.

Stepping into the minuscule laundry room, she pulled the louvered doors closed behind her before yanking open the dryer door and pulling out her sweater and bra. They were still damp, but she put them on anyway in case she needed to make a quick escape. If Daniel was here, Worthington wouldn’t be far behind. And she didn’t want to meet Worthington now. She intended to orchestrate their first encounter very carefully. She would project the image of a bright, confident, sophisticated woman. The only kind of woman likely to attract his interest, according to her program. At the moment, she felt—and undoubtedly looked—like a frazzled refugee from a hectic day at the office.

Richard opened the front door, catching Daniel with his fist raised to pound on the door again.

“Be quiet,” Richard ordered with a quick look over his shoulder to make sure Maggie was still in the kitchen. “Pretend you don’t know me.”

“Hell, Richard, in this mood, I’m not sure I do know you.”

Richard grinned. “I’m doing some undercover work. The report from the treasurer’s office is in the study, second door on the right.” He gestured toward the room Maggie had entered. “Make a copy of it and send it by courier to Baxter at the San Francisco office. Don’t fax anything,” Richard said.

“Will do. Oh, and Wilton called. He said he’d located a man named Zylinski in Washington, D.C., who’s a wizard at tracing embezzled funds through computers. I have a call in to him. I hope to hear from him tonight, or tomorrow morning, at the latest.”

“Promise him anything, but get him here immediately to trace the movement of the money Moore embezzled. Wright’s widow might have been willing to eat the losses to avoid sending her son-in-law to jail, but I want to know if Moore had any accomplices that are still with the company. Two million dollars in just three years is a hell of a lot of money for one person to lose playing poker even if he is a compulsive gambler.”

Daniel shook his head. “It’s a damn shame. Moore was one helluva salesman. He practically revitalized that company single-handedly after Wright had his first heart attack.”

“Yeah, and then he bled it dry. I still think Mrs. Wright was wrong. Son-in-law or not, she should have pressed charges against Moore.”

Daniel looked into Richard’s hard gray eyes and shivered. He sure wouldn’t want to cross Richard. He was not a forgiving man.

“Lock the door behind you and let me know as soon as you hear from the computer expert,” Richard said.

“Will do.” Daniel hurried down the hallway to the study while Richard went back into the kitchen. A sound from behind the closed laundry-room doors told him where Maggie was.

“I got rid of him,” Richard addressed the doors. “It’s safe to come out.”

Maggie opened the door and emerged, giving him a repressive look. “I wasn’t hiding,” she lied. “I was changing my clothes. Here’s your shirt, and thank you.”

She watched regretfully as he slipped into it and his magnificent, hairy chest disappeared from view.

“You can express your thanks by helping me connect the faucet back up again.”

“If you’ll remember correctly, that’s how I got wet in the first place,” she pointed out as she followed him back to the bathroom. Somehow, she seemed unable to resist the temptation of being around him. Maybe her makeover had changed more than just her outward appearance, she considered. Maybe wearing an up-to-the-minute hairstyle and sexy clothes had changed her outlook. Maybe dressing sexy made a woman more likely to act sexy. Kind of a variation on form following function? It was an unsettling thought.

“That was an accident,” Richard said.

“I still got wet.”

“It won’t happen again. All I need you to do is hold the faucet in place while I attach it.”

She looked at him wryly.

“I’ll buy you dinner if you help me,” he coaxed when she didn’t respond.

Maggie felt anticipation surge through her at the thought of going out to dinner with Richard, of spending the evening with him. And afterward, they could go back to her place and…Her mouth began to water as images of exactly what she would like to do with him flashed through her mind.

No, she hastily clamped down on her imagination. She didn’t know him well enough to invite him back to her apartment. He might look respectable, but looks could be deceptive. Look at her. New looks aside, she was as clueless about men as it was possible to be and still lay claim to femininity. But there was no reason to stay clueless. Not with Richard around…

The thought of Worthington and her plans for him briefly crossed her mind. Going out with Richard wouldn’t jeopardize those plans, she assured herself. Richard was a plumber who happened to be doing some work in Worthington’s apartment. It was highly unlikely that the two of them would even meet, let alone exchange confidences about the women they’d dated. Besides, going out with Richard would give her a chance to practice feeling comfortable around a man. She stole a quick glance at him and a shiver of awareness slithered down her spine. Somehow, comfortable and Richard were not mutually compatible concepts.

“It’s a deal,” she accepted, hoping the eagerness she felt wasn’t apparent in her voice. “I’ll help you plumb and then we can have dinner.” Never mind the work back at the office she was completely blowing off. Another reaction that wasn’t like her.

It didn’t take long to hook up the faucet, and Maggie stepped back with a pleased smile on her face when water gushed out with no sign of leakage. “I can see where you’d like plumbing. When you’re finished, you see positive results.”

“Most jobs are like that.”

“Not always,” she said ruefully. “I like my job, but sometimes I can work for days chasing a bug and still have nothing to show for it.”

“What exactly do you do?” Richard asked, curious as to what her role was in the company.

“Mostly, I liaison with customers, helping them figure out what they want and what kind of program can best help them do it. Sam Moore, our ex-president, used to say he sold the idea and it was up to me to translate it into something practical.”

Richard felt a slight chill at the warmth in her voice as she mentioned Moore. Just how friendly was she with Moore? Obviously friendly enough to resent his no longer being there. But had she been friendly enough to know what he’d been up to? The thought jarred, and he shoved it to the back of his mind because there was no way he could answer it now. He’d have a better picture of what the situation was after the computer-fraud expert had done his work. Until then, he’d assume Maggie was exactly what she seemed to be: a gorgeous, sexy woman who found him interesting.

“And do you make it practical?” he asked.

“About ninety-nine percent of the time. I find programming fascinating, but then I’m a bit of a computer fanatic.” Maggie kept her answer brief for fear of boring him. As more than one of her girlfriends had told her, not everyone was as interested in computer applications as she was.

“What time do you want to eat?” she asked.

Richard checked the gold watch on his wrist and Maggie frowned slightly as she noticed it. It was an odd watch for a plumber to have. She would have expected him to own something in stainless steel with lots of gadgets. Instead, he was wearing a thin dress watch that didn’t appear to do anything other than tell time.

“Seven?” he suggested. “How about if I get a couple of tickets to a Broadway show for after dinner?”

“No.” Maggie hastily refused his offer. She wanted to spend the evening talking and getting to know him and she could hardly do that if they were at a performance. It would be better to keep the first date unstructured so that she could cut it short if the pressure got to be too much for her.

“You don’t like live theater?” he asked curiously.

“Yes, but it’s been a long week and I’m tired,” she improvised. “I’d probably fall asleep in a darkened theater.”

“Okay, I’ll pick you up at seven. What’s your address?”

“How about if I meet you in front of the restaurant?” Maggie remembered her earlier reservations about giving out her home address to a stranger. Even a fascinating stranger.

“Do you have a favorite?”

“There’s a good restaurant over by the Museum of Natural History that serves an excellent blackberry salmon,” Maggie said.

“What’s the name of the place?”

Maggie searched her memory and came up blank. “I can’t remember. How about if I meet you in front of the museum. The entrance that faces the park?”

Richard squashed the spurt of anger he felt at her refusal to trust him with her address. This wasn’t San Francisco, he reminded himself. New York apparently had its own set of dating rules. Besides, he thought with satisfaction, one phone call to personnel on Monday and he’d have her file, complete with her home address. He could wait until then.

“The entrance in front of the park,” he repeated.

“Did Romanos say when his boss was due in?” she asked.

“No, he didn’t say much of anything. He just left some papers and took that folder you brought.”

Maggie frowned slightly.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, wondering if she would make an excuse to go back into the study to look at the papers Daniel had left.

“Did you ask to see any ID? I saw Romanos in the office so I’d recognize his face, but you wouldn’t know him,” she added at Richard’s blank look. “All jokes about industrial spying aside, our company does some highly sensitive work for some pretty high-powered financial institutions.”

Richard resisted the urge to reassure her, knowing that the only way he could was to admit he was Worthington, and he didn’t want to do that until he’d had a chance to get to know her. And for her to get to know him. “Was there something confidential in what you brought?” he said.

“I don’t actually know but probably not. If it had been highly confidential, Emily would have brought it herself.” At least, she hoped Emily would have been professional enough to put aside her animosity long enough to do it.

“I’ll see you at seven, and thanks for your help with the faucet,” Richard said as he walked her to the door.

“You’re welcome.” Maggie stepped out into the hallway and heard the door close behind her with a restrained thud. The flash of loss she felt at the sound caught her off guard. She’d just met the man, for heaven’s sake. She couldn’t miss him already.

Stepping into the elevator, she automatically pushed the button for the lobby. Her mind was fully occupied with trying to make sense of her unusual reaction to Richard. She couldn’t. She had no idea why her response to him had been so strongly sensual. Granted, he was gorgeous, but gorgeous men were a dime a dozen in a city the size of New York. It was as if her emotions had recognized him on some level that her rational mind didn’t even know existed.

She gave Emily a quick call to let her know she wouldn’t be returning to work and then made her way to the front entrance. She shivered as she stepped out of the apartment building and a cool gust of spring wind pounced on her, making her damp sweater feel cold and clammy. She hurried toward the bus stop. She needed to get home and into dry clothes before she came down with something.

Thirty minutes later, she let herself into her apartment and, after making herself a cup of apricot coffee, powered up her computer, bringing up her dating program. She hadn’t learned as much as she’d hoped about Worthington from her visit to his apartment, but every little bit helped. The more facts she entered, the more accurate the responses would be when she asked it questions.

Maggie caught her lower lip between her teeth as she wondered what kinds of things the program would tell her if she had a way to use it on Richard.

On the other hand, it might be more fun to delve into Richard’s personality the old-fashioned way. Slowly. Taking her time to learn his likes and dislikes. Discovering all the little quirks that made him the unique individual he was. A shiver ran over her skin at the thought. She didn’t have the slightest doubt that it would be worth every second it took.

The chime of her clock reminded her of the passing time, and she hurriedly finished keying in the information about Worthington’s apartment. The information she had garnered so far about what made John Worthington tick was still sketchy at best, she thought with frustration. Hopefully, that would improve once she actually met the man and was able to observe him in action. Then she could fine tune her program, and begin to ask it questions more complicated than what his ideal woman looked like and how he would respond to general situations.

A sense of anticipation mixed with dread roiled through her at the thought of using it. Anticipation over Worthington being held accountable for his ruthlessness. Dread of the possible consequences of her actions, of setting events in motion that might be hard to control.

Wealthy men tended to think of themselves as outside the normal rules of civilized behavior. Her one and only meeting with her biological father had graphically proved that to her. And, according to her research, Worthington was far wealthier than her father had been.

But even if she failed in her attempts to make Worthington pay, it couldn’t backfire, could it? She tried to look at the situation logically. He couldn’t hurt her emotionally. She would never be dumb enough to fall for the guy. Not only did she have good reason to dislike Worthington personally but also her mother’s experience had taught her to avoid wealthy men like the plague. Besides, her intense attraction to Richard was almost like being inoculated against John Worthington. No, emotionally she was safe.

And what else could he realistically do to her? Fire her? That didn’t matter because she fully intended to leave just as soon as she found another job anyway. She didn’t want to work for a man who treated his employees the way Worthington had treated Sam.

A second chime from the clock galvanized her into action and she hurried to get ready.

Once she had showered and liberally sprayed herself with the light floral scent she preferred, she hurried into the bedroom to get dressed.

Opening her closet, she automatically grabbed one of her pre-Worthington outfits. Catching herself, she hastily put it back. Like the rest of her old wardrobe, it was in earth tones and bought two sizes too big to successfully disguise the shape of her breasts and the curve of her hips. It was designed to make men’s eyes skim over her without lingering.

A shudder of distaste churned through her stomach as she remembered the feel of her first foster father’s eyes on her. Remembered the feeling of contamination, as if her body were somehow responsible for his licentious thoughts and the whispered filth he’d subjected her to every time he’d caught her alone.

That wasn’t your fault, she said to herself, slicing off the insidious memories. He was the archetypal dirty old man, but that was his problem, not yours, Maggie reminded herself, remembering what the psychologist had told her. Her mind might believe it, but somehow her intellect had never been able to convince her emotions. Every time a man looked at her, she didn’t see honest appreciation of her femininity; she saw unclean lust.

Face it, woman, she told herself. You allowed a dirty old man to dictate your relationship to your feelings for the past fourteen years, and it’s long past time to stop it!

She nodded decisively. Getting revenge on Worthington would serve a dual purpose. Beyond the obvious one, it would be the opportunity to learn to dress so that she looked like what she wanted to be inside—a thoroughly modern professional. And after she’d finished with Worthington, maybe she could hang up her emotional baggage in the back of the closet with her unflattering wardrobe. Maybe she could risk looking for someone to share her life with. There had to be some men out there who would enrich her life instead of hopelessly complicating it. All she had to do was to find one.

A shiver of pleasure skittered over her skin as an image of Richard filled her mind. What would it be like to wake up in the morning next to him? The intriguing question crossed her mind. On the surface, Richard seemed like he could be the ideal man for her. He was built like the living embodiment of every sexual fantasy she’d ever had. He was easy to talk to, with a sense of humor that appealed to her, and he was perfect financially.

The sound of the clock as it struck half past the hour jerked her out of her thoughts. If she didn’t hurry up, she’d be late, and he might not wait.

After dressing, she grabbed a cab. She had the driver drop her off a block from the museum so that she could casually walk up. She didn’t want Richard to think she had been standing around, waiting for him.

To her relief, Richard was already there when she arrived. She paused slightly behind a woman pushing a double baby stroller and studied him as he stared out into the street, clearly waiting for a taxi to pull up.

Compulsively, her eyes ran over him. He was wearing a pair of cream chinos, a pale blue T-shirt and a white linen jacket that made his shoulders seem even broader. His dark hair was slightly disheveled from the wind and her fingertips tingled with a compulsion to touch it.

Richard turned, tensing when he caught sight of her. He felt the impact of her presence in every cell of his body. On the way over he’d told himself that his memory had exaggerated her appeal, but clearly it hadn’t. He still found her physically fascinating. She drew him in on some instinctive level that totally bypassed rational thought.

Okay, so he was sexually attracted to her. There was nothing wrong with that. He was a free adult male. There was no reason for him not to explore that attraction. Especially considering that his interest had to be reciprocated or she wouldn’t have accepted his invitation to dinner. And she’d accepted it without knowing who he really was. Normally, he never knew if a woman liked him or his considerable bank balance, but with Maggie, he knew he didn’t have to wonder. She didn’t have a clue as to his net worth and she still wanted to go out with him. He was looking forward to the novel experience of just being an average man.

“Hi,” she said when she reached him.

“Good evening.” He took her arm and started down the steps toward the street.

“Did Worthington show before you left?” she asked.

“No one came before I left,” he said honestly.

A block away from the museum, he paused in front of a restaurant. “Is this the place you were talking about?”

“No, I’ve never been here.” She read the menu posted beside the door and barely suppressed a wince. There were no prices listed.

“See anything you like?”

Maggie stared blankly at the menu as she tried to decide what to do. Business lunches with clients had taught her that restaurants that didn’t post their prices were expensive. Very expensive. And she most emphatically didn’t want Richard to remember their date as one that had cost him an arm and a leg. On the other hand, she didn’t want to imply that he couldn’t afford it. If the dating articles she’d read were right, men tended to have surprisingly fragile egos when it came to money.

To her relief, Richard provided the answer himself. “Don’t you like French cuisine?” he asked.

“No,” Maggie lied without a qualm. “They eat some very strange parts of animals, and I’m always worried about what might show up in a sauce. That place I mentioned is only a little farther and it’s…” She scrambled to come up with an acceptable synonym for cheaper and failed.

Richard stared at her with a feeling of unreality as he suddenly realized what the problem was. She was actually worried about what this place would cost. He couldn’t ever remember any woman trying to save him money. On the contrary, they were usually trying to separate him from large chunks of it.

Should he tell her who he really was now? That would certainly take care of her worries. But it would also change the way she responded to him, and he was enjoying being treated like a normal man too much. Not only that but also he needed more time to convince her that he wasn’t the ogre that office gossip had painted him.

No, he’d stick to his original plan and tell her his real identity when the evening was over, he finally decided. After he’d thoroughly kissed her good-night.