Читать книгу The Bachelor's Stand-In Wife - Susan Crosby, Susan Crosby - Страница 10

Chapter Five

“So, your home base in Europe is Hamburg, Germany, but you’re rarely there?” Valerie asked the next morning after spending a few hours with David in his office.

He was searching for a particular file on his computer, his focus on the screen. “I go where the potential business is, which means I’m taking a train or plane constantly, following leads. I go to Hamburg only to keep a personal hand in the business, because that’s where the cars are built. It’s good for the crew to see a boss now and then.”

“And you’ve been the one solely responsible for wrapping up the deals for the past three years?”

He nodded.

No wonder he seemed so tired. It made her want to rub his back.…

Valerie picked up her notepad and ran her pen down the notes she’d taken. “When you leave on Sunday, where will you go?”

“London first, then Rome.”

She’d never traveled outside of California. It all sounded exotic to her, while to him it was probably just routine, maybe even mundane. “Do you have a favorite place?”

“Yes, a newly discovered one. Tumari.”

“Where’s that?”

“In Malaysia. It’s a sultanate, an extremely rich little country with lots of oil. And it’s beautiful. Completely different from the places I usually go.” He double-clicked on a folder. “Usually it doesn’t matter much to me where I go, since I rarely do anything but work—wining and dining being part of that.”

“So you have no interest in vacationing anywhere you’ve been?”

“Coming home is my vacation. This house is my ultimate five-star resort.” His gaze flickered to her. “You have dreams of traveling?”

“I’ve always wanted to go to Hawaii.”

He smiled. “A small dream.”

“Not to me.”

“I didn’t mean you were dreaming small, but that accomplishing it is relatively easy.”

She couldn’t contradict him without telling him how close she’d been to being homeless two days ago. How long it was going to take her to be debt free. He’d never been poor. “I’m saving my pennies. Maybe for Hannah’s high school graduation.”

He seemed about to say something, then looked at his monitor instead. “Here’s the breakdown of clients, real and potential. How are you with spreadsheets?”

“Classroom taught, but no work experience.”

“The data is here in various forms. What I need is for you to extract the data and import it into separate spreadsheets.” He opened a blank spreadsheet and showed her how to transfer the numbers, as she took notes.

“What’s your goal?” she asked.

“I want to know if there’s business potentially big enough anywhere in particular to justify hiring a local rep permanently for the area. I know where we’ve sold well. I want to know where we’ve made inroads but no sales success—and, therefore, why. Which models have customers been interested in, then didn’t buy? Which engine displacement is being considered? All these things have merit.” He met her gaze. “All the information is here, but I need it separated and sorted.”

“Okay.” Maybe not as hard as it seemed, she hoped. She would need an atlas, though, since she didn’t know where a lot of the European cities were in relation to each other. The Internet would help. “Do you want me to work on this now?”

He looked at his watch. “It’s almost lunchtime. Why don’t you take an hour off and spend it with your daughter. My guess is she’s anxious for a swim.”

She didn’t like that he had to take Hannah into consideration, but she was glad he did. “Can I make a sandwich for you?” she asked.

He stretched. “I’m going for a drive. I’ll eat while I’m out. I may take a couple hours.”

“Okay.”

“Good work today, Valerie. You’re a quick learner.”

“You’re a patient teacher.”

“Am I?” he asked.

She nodded. Why did that surprise him?

“I’ve never been known for patience.” He jangled his keys in his pocket for a moment, then pulled them out. “I’ll see you later.”

“Okay.”

He disappeared around the corner then came back into the doorway a moment later. “We never discussed your hours.”

“In what way?”

“Obviously you’re supposed to have days off. Need to have days off. Everyone does. And this job may be sixty hours one week and twenty hours the next.”

“Let’s not worry about it at this point. I’ll keep track for now and see how it averages. At some point I’ll probably want a weekend to go visit my mom in Palm Springs.”

“Works for me.” He left again. This time he stayed gone.

Days off? She smiled as she stood, laying her notepad on the streamlined black and teak desk, aligning the items on his desktop. Her salary was generous already, plus it included room and board. She could work eighty hours a week and it would still be a good deal for her.

Valerie put the computer to sleep, slid David’s chair under the desk, then moved hers back into position against a wall. She closed the blinds a little, blocking the sun. After a final glance around the room, she turned off the light and headed for the cottage, but before she reached it, a truck pulled in, a trailer full of gardening tools hitched behind it.

She changed direction and headed for the truck.

A man climbed out of the vehicle, thirtyish, not overly tall, brawny. His dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail and tied with a leather thong. His T-shirt hugged his torso, his jeans were torn in interesting places, his boots well worn. He looked like the kind of bad boy that teenage girls go for before they learn that good men make better partners.

Bad boys—the kind of man Valerie had gone for. Gotten pregnant by. Although he’d been less rough around the edges than this guy.

“You Valerie?” Bad Boy asked, his fingers splayed low on his hips, a knee cocked, challenge in the stance.

She kept her voice pleasant. “Yes.”

He angled his head toward the big house. “David says I take my orders from you now.”

“What’s your name?”

“Joseph McCoy.”

She offered her hand. “I’m looking forward to working with you.”

His belligerent pose eased a little, but he wore sunglasses, hiding much of his expression. He shook her hand.

“I’ll get my notes,” she said. “Be right back.” She didn’t wait for him to respond but headed for the cottage.

“You want to swim?” she asked her daughter as Belle slunk off the couch.

“Yes!”

“Go change. I’ll be outside talking to the gardener.” She grabbed a notepad from the kitchen counter and left.

Joseph was leaning against his truck, arms crossed. He didn’t acknowledge her, even though he couldn’t have missed hearing her footsteps. She tapped his arm with her notepad.

“Yeah, boss?” he asked.

Not a promising start. “This is my vision,” she said, holding out the notepad for him to take, ignoring his hostility.

He gave her design a cursory look but didn’t take the pad from her. “No flowers.”

“Why not? Won’t they survive the weather here?”

“Most things survive with proper tending. But in this case David specifically said no flowers.”

“He didn’t tell me that.”

“He told me.”

“I think the garden needs more color variation.”

“You can do that with plants. There’s lots to choose from. All shades of green. Yellow. Red.”

“Why haven’t you used them?” She mimicked his hostile pose now, tired of his attitude.

“He never said to.”

“You’re the expert.”

“Look, lady, David and I have been friends since second grade. He would’ve said something if he didn’t like what I was doing.”

“Mom! Can I get in the pool?”

“Just a second.” As Valerie turned back, Belle came running, but straight to Joseph.

“Hey, girl. You’re home.” He crouched and gave the dog a good rub. Belle pushed herself against him, knocking him down, making him laugh.

“We need to continue our conversation by the pool so that I can watch my daughter,” she said, heading that way, expecting him to follow.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She stopped, turned around and looked down at him, speaking quietly so that Hannah couldn’t hear her. “Look, I don’t know what bee got in your bonnet but don’t take it out on me. I’m your partner in this project, not your enemy. I think the place could look spectacular. It’s a good basic design. It just needs…refinement.”

He seemed to be glaring at her, but how could she tell with his sunglasses in place? Belle looked back and forth between them. He said nothing.

She threw up her hands. “Fine. I’ll be your boss, then. Follow me. I’ll give you your orders.” She climbed the path, gestured to Hannah, who was dancing pirouettes around the pool, that she could dive in, then sat on a lounge chair and waited for Joseph to join her.

He took the chair next to hers. “Bee in my bonnet?” he repeated.

She couldn’t gauge if he was making fun of her. “It’s just an expression.”

“One that grandmothers use.” Before she could say anything, he held up his hands. “Truce.”

“Why should I agree?”

“I was taking out my bad mood on you. I apologize.”

She eyed him for a few seconds, then shrugged. “Okay.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t do it again or I’ll fire you.” She grinned.

He gave her a slight salute and reached for her notes and preliminary drawing.

“Were you mad because David put me in charge or because I was critical of how the property looked?” she asked.

“Wow. You’re direct.”

“Saves time and energy.”

Hannah called Belle into the water. Her daughter’s laughter was contagious.

“Dixie—my girlfriend—walked out on me this morning.”

Valerie angled her head toward him. She wasn’t surprised he confided in her, as many people did. She didn’t know what it was about her, but even strangers, like this Joseph, poured out their hearts to her.

“Then two of my employees didn’t show up for work. Then David called and said I needed to fix the yard, and I should do whatever you said.”

Valerie chose the issue that probably bothered him the most. “I’m sorry about your girlfriend.”

“She’ll be back. It’s a pattern. Except she was a little more ticked off than usual this morning.”

She wanted to direct the conversation away from his problems. “As for doing whatever I say, that’s not true, Joseph. I have a vision, but I don’t even know if it’s doable. We need to work together.”

“I got it, okay? Teamwork.” Then he pulled a pencil from his back pocket and redesigned her entire plan.

David chose to drive the Falcon so he could feel the wind in his hair. He’d been shut in the office with Valerie too long for comfort.

She’d smelled good, but not flowery. Not like perfume, but soap. Fruity soap.

And woman.

He downshifted hard as he headed into a turn, an image of her burned into his memory. She’d worn a proper outfit of cotton slacks and a blouse, buttoned to the neck, her hair twisted into some kind of knot, a plastic clip holding it in place. Which left her neck exposed, long, slender, that fruity scent drifting… Peaches, maybe?