Baby Of Convenience. Diana Whitney
Читать онлайн книгу.
kitten from his shirt and carried it to the coat-covered barrel. With deliberate care, he lifted the garment in a manner that forced the sawdust to float harmlessly to the floor before placing Rascal inside with his litter mates.
“I can’t believe it,” Laura murmured, realizing that the barrel was tall enough to keep the kittens from escaping, yet posed no obstacle to the agile Maggie, who immediately leapt inside to tend her brood. “You sacrificed your coat so the kittens would be protected from breathing the sawdust.”
Royce straightened, shifted, then turned his attention to the workman. “Repair what you can and clean up the debris.”
The workman rubbed his chin, slipping a shrewd glance from Royce to Laura then back again. “I charge double for after-hours work.”
Laura’s heart sank. She was clearly responsible for the workman’s bill, however outrageous it ended up being. How she’d pay for that and the extensive damage the rescue effort had caused was beyond comprehension.
With some effort she squared her shoulders and spoke with more confidence than she felt. “Please forward the bill directly to me,” she told the workman, then turned toward Royce. “I will, of course, pay all costs for repairing your wine racks as well and for restoring the cellar to its original condition.”
Royce skimmed a glance in her direction, then re-focused on the workman as if he hadn’t even heard her. “Leave your invoice with Marta on the way out.”
The workman’s grin broadened. “Plus expenses, of course.”
Royce’s eyes narrowed. “What expenses?”
“Dulled a perfectly good saw blade cutting them bolts. And it’s past suppertime. Union rules say I gotta have me a meal ticket if I work past suppertime.”
“Fine,” Royce snapped, then strode across the room, cupped a firm hand around Laura’s elbow and ushered her up the basement stairs. When they’d reached the foyer, he glanced at the toys stacked neatly in the corner. “Where is the child?”
“My roommate watches Jamie while I’m at work.”
“You have a job?”
The surprise in his voice annoyed her. “Most people do.”
“Is that why you’re wearing that disgusting ensemble?”
Peeved by his pompous expression, she hiked her chin as if she actually enjoyed flouncing around town in a fire-red miniskirt, fringed thigh-boots and an insultingly low-cut peasant blouse with a garish cartoon chicken embroidered on the bodice. “Actually, I thought it was a rather smashing fashion statement.”
He squinted at the logo on her chest with obvious disdain, tipping his head forward to display flecks of sawdust in his mussed hair. “The Cluck House?”
She’d never seen Royce Burton when he hadn’t been perfectly tailored and immaculately groomed. There was a peculiar appeal to his current untidy condition, a vaguely arousing image of how he might look having rolled out of bed, tousled and sated from a night of lovemaking.
The startling perception heated her skin, tumbled her stomach. She cleared her throat, pretended she couldn’t feel the embarrassed flush crawling along her cheekbones. “It’s a perfectly respectable restaurant and a perfectly respectable job. Not everyone is born rich and lucky, you know.”
Something softened his eyes, just for a moment. “Yes,” he murmured. “I know.” He blinked, frowned, clasped his hands behind his back in the manner she’d come to recognize as one he used when enforcing his control over a given situation, even while wearing a stained shirt with claw marks and a pair of ripped slacks.
Again she was struck by the odd appeal of his disheveled appearance, a flawed vulnerability that seemed strangely revealing.
“Respectable or not,” he said, “a woman who majored in constitutional law should not be costumed like a dance-hall floozy while serving fried poultry parts to the gastronomically challenged. It’s beneath you.”
“You are hardly in a position to tell me what kind of work I should or should not be doing. The hours are flexible, the pay is adequate and—” She frowned as the context of his statement sank in. “Wait just a darned minute. How do you know what my college major was?”
His gaze was insufferably smug. “I’m not in the habit of handing out keys to my home to people about whom I know nothing.”
“You had me investigated?”
“Of course.” He rolled the admission off his tongue with a startled blink, as if the question itself had been ridiculous. “I presume this, er, employment opportunity presented itself quite recently.”
Very recently, since she’d had only a brief and haphazard training session yesterday afternoon. Tonight would be her first shift. Still, she stubbornly refused to give him the satisfaction of validating what he apparently already knew. “I have to leave now. Please be assured, however, that this discussion of clandestine background investigations is not over. Not by a long shot.”
Mustering as much dignity as possible while festooned like a Halloween piñata, Laura spun on her spiky fringed boot heels and took two strides before Royce’s soft voice stopped her.
“I believe you’ve already missed your bus.”
A voice in her brain warned her not to ask. She ignored it, flung an astonished glance over her shoulder. “How do you know what bus I’m taking?” She turned around, planted her hands on her hips. “In fact, how do you know that I’m taking a bus at all? I do own a car, you know.”
He shrugged. “Since that vehicle’s transmission went out last week and it’s currently lodged in the impound lot until the towing charges are paid, the presumption that you must rely upon public transportation isn’t much of a stretch.”
Alerted by a draft on her tongue, Laura closed her mouth and stared at him.
Apparently unaware of or unconcerned by her astonishment at the extent of his knowledge about her private life, Royce made a production of brushing dust from his palms. “You realize, of course, that a minimum-wage job can’t possibly make a dent in the debt you now owe, nor allow you to save enough money to move into your own apartment before your roommate’s husband returns from Alaska in December.”
The room seemed to tilt, and Laura felt as if she couldn’t catch her breath. She touched the wall to steady herself, waiting for her breathing to slow so she could speak. She hadn’t told Royce where Wendy’s husband was working, only that he was on a temporary assignment out of the state. Nor had she told him or anyone else when Daniel Wyatt would be returning, since she hadn’t known that information herself.
She lifted her chin, making a production of glancing around, as if sizing up her financial obligation rather than mustering a modicum of dignity. “Since you clearly know a great deal about me that is quite frankly none of your business, you must also be aware that I have no other options at the moment.”
“Oh, but you do.” He paused, frowning at his stained palms for a moment, although Laura suspected that he wasn’t even seeing them, simply using the gesture to gather his thoughts. “Fortunately, I’m able to offer you a position that will allow you to use your talents and experience to their fullest advantage.”
Her heart leapt, then pounded with increased intensity. This was, after all, a man who controlled the largest industry and highest number of available jobs in the entire town, if not the entire county. Not only was Burton Technologies renowned for offering above-market salaries and generous benefits, but for job security as well. Employees considered themselves to be part of the Burton family. Most expected to spend their entire careers there, and since the company prided itself on having never laid off a single worker in its twelve-year existence, the expectation of a long, bright future for those who were a part of the said family seemed a realistic one.
Which is why job openings were as rare as hens’ teeth, and coveted like gold. Laura’s