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“Champagne gives me the hiccups,” Andie replied with a laugh, tossing down a handful of papers, “and I never make love until sunup the night before I have to put the finishing touches on a buy-out offer worth millions.” She grinned. “Seriously bodacious, huh? From that, am I given to understand that your daughter is home from college for spring break?”
Margie Bakerfield grinned back. “Like, for real, dude. It’s been three days now, and I haven’t understood a word she’s said. It’s frightening when you think about it. I’m spending several thousand dollars to send a perfectly normal, well-spoken girl to the best college in California. And she comes back speaking in tongues, with no visible tan line and a boyfriend whose main interests seem to be food and surfing.”
“Oh, to be young and in love, Margie. Let her enjoy it. When I was eighteen I thought the world would stay a magic place forever. Now I’m almost thirty, and the only magic I seem able to conjure up is time-shifting old movies on my VCR.”
“That Frenchman of yours looks like he should be able to conjure up a thing or two,” Margie said slyly. “He called this morning and wants you to call him back. The number’s here on your desk somewhere.”
Andie nodded absently, leafing through a thick computer printout. “Has Finance sent down their revised estimates on this Becktron deal yet? Conn and I are going head-to-head with Desmond Beck and his head bean counter on Friday. We need to have a solid handle on how much their patents are worth before Conn goes in with his final offer.”
Margie reached across Andie’s desk without saying anything and tapped in a couple of commands on the computer. It flashed a Working message for a moment or two, then spilled a multicolored display of figures across the screen.
Andie gazed at it in silence, then glanced up at Margie with a rueful smile. “I knew that.”
Margie just nodded, a tiny smile playing around her mouth. “Come over to supper some night this week, okay? You and Krista can swap stories about college life—she thinks I’m too old to remember back that far.”
Andie gave a sputter of laughter. Margie was all of thirty-eight. “Sounds good—pick an evening and tell me when.”
“Thursday. Right after work.”
“I thought you were going to the symphony on Thursday night with that new guy in Product Design.”
“Brad?” Margie made a face. “We went out twice. The first time, he took me to a romantic restaurant and spent the entire evening telling me all about his ex-wives. The second time, we went to a computer show and he spent the entire day telling me all about his mother. The third time he called, I told him I was washing the dog. He hasn’t called again.”
Andie groaned, laughing. “Oh, Margie, I’m sorry! I sometimes think all the unattached men in this city come in two flavors—weird and seriously weird.”
Margie smiled dryly. “You got that right.” The smile faded. “And the ones who aren’t just don’t seem to be able to see what’s right in front of them.”
She could have been talking about Conn, Andie thought, but she wasn’t. Only Frank Czarnecki could put that look of gloom on Margie’s usually cheerful face. “You could ask him over to dinner,” she said gently. “Or to a movie.”
“I know,” Margie said with a sigh. “If only he wasn’t so shy! I think he’s interested, Andie, I really do. But he doesn’t seem to know what to do about it. Until I met Frank, I didn’t know what a computer nerd was! It’s all he seems to care about.”
“Back when Conn and I were in college, most of his friends were just like Frank,” Andie said sympathetically. “If a girl even looked at them, they’d stammer and drop things. Most of them started their own computer companies and are bazillionaires by now, but they still have the social skills of fungi. It goes with the territory.”
“Except for Connor.”
“Except for Connor.” Andie smiled. “He always did have more going for him than a triple-digit IQ. He went from grade school charmer directly to corporate tycoon and bypassed the nerd stage altogether.”
Margie paused, as though wanting to add something. Then she just smiled. “Thursday evening, then. Mexican?”
“Love it.”
“Good. I’ll stock up on salsa and chili peppers and make it a night to remember. Krista’s boyfriend, Tad, will be there, but he’s an easy conversationalist. One grunt means no, two means yes and a shrug means he doesn’t know.”
“He doesn’t talk?”
“Who knows? I’ve never seen him with his mouth empty long enough to find out.”
“I can hardly wait to meet him. He sounds like some of the guys I used to date when I was Krista’s age.” Laughing, Andie pushed back her chair and got to her feet, grabbing up a handful of reports from the corner of her desk. “I have to go over these with Conn. Hold my calls—unless it’s someone from Becktron.”
“Did, um...?” Margie winced. “I saw that official-looking envelope from his lawyer in yesterday’s mail....”
“His divorce decree. Signed, sealed and as final as they get.”
“So, he’s single again. I suppose that means that Woodruff female will have her claws in him.” Margie’s eyes glittered. “For months now, she’s been hovering around like a vulture waiting for an accident to happen. You can practically hear her salivating at the prospect of hauling in the catch of the day.”
Margie’s metaphors may have been mixed, but they made their point. “If she’s serious about landing him, she’s going to have to bring in the heavy-duty tackle,” Andie said quietly. “One sign she’s getting serious and he’ll head for open water.”
“Let’s hope you’re right.” Picking up a handful of letters she’d brought in for Andie to sign, Margie turned and headed back to her own office.
Andie stared blindly after her for a moment or two, then gave herself a mental shake and walked across to the door leading to Conn’s office. Olivia Woodruff. Interesting thought.
Shrewd, beautiful and as cold as ice, she headed up one of the most successful corporate law offices on the West Coast. She’d wooed Conn for almost a year before he’d shifted Devlin Electronics over to her, and she’d never bothered hiding the fact that Conn’s business wasn’t all she was interested in. So far, Conn had held her at bay. But now...?
Andie was still frowning when she gave a tap on Conn’s door, then pushed it open and went in.
Conn’s office ran the full width of the building, a peaceful retreat filled with antiques and fine art, with plenty of polished dark wood and gleaming brass and leather. Her doing, of course. Had it been left up to Conn, he’d still have nothing in here but a dozen custom-wired computers, a phone and a stack of discarded pizza boxes.
She smiled. Under the expensive suits and hundred-dollar haircuts still lurked that frighteningly bright college kid whose passion for electronics had given birth to a thriving corporation worth millions.
“Hey, darlin’,” he croaked, looking up as she came in.
“You look in fine shape,” Andie replied calmly. “Head hurts, does it?”
Conn managed a groan, then wished he hadn’t. He closed his eyes—gently—and gingerly rubbed both temples. “I didn’t think twelve-year-old Scotch gave you a hangover.”
She disappeared behind him and poured something into a glass. “Consumed in reasonable quantities, I don’t think it does.”
“Cheap shot.”
“Easy, anyway.” She set something on the desk. “Drink up.”
Conn opened one eye and gazed blearily at the glass of bubbling liquid in front of him. “Quick or slow?”
“Quick. It tastes like hell.”
“Is it going to kill me or cure me?”
“Do you really care?”
“No.” Sitting back in his leather chair with another groan, Conn reached for the glass and downed the contents in three long swallows, giving a shudder as it hit bottom. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Just a little.” Smiling, she strolled around behind him and settled her hands on his shoulders, kneading them gently. “Take a couple of deep breaths and repeat after me. I will never drink Scotch on an empty stomach again.”
“Don’t mention Scotch,” Conn groaned. “Don’t mention stomach.”
“I set up a meeting with Production at eleven. I called Frank Czarnecki and asked him to bring his whole design team with him.”
Conn started to nod, then thought better of it, relaxing against the warmth of her hands and feeling her fingers work through the knots across his shoulders. “So we’re still having quality-control problems with that remote-controlled underwater seismic unit. Damn!”
“They’re running at a fifty percent reject rate, with no sign it’s improving. Frank swears the problem isn’t with the design, but with something in the manufacturing process.”
“And Production swears the problem’s in the design.” Conn flexed his shoulders, wincing slightly as a jolt of pain shot through his skull. “That design is sound, Andie. I went over the schematics with Frank six dozen times. The damn thing should work. The prototype met every test way above specification.”
“So there’s a bug in the manufacturing process,” Andie said thoughtfully.
“Seems so. Wherever the hell it is, though, we’ve got to track it down fast. DeepSix Exploration has just signed a billion-dollar oil exploration contract with the Canadian government and needs those remote units now. We can’t sell them a product that might work half the time, and they’re not going to wait around while we try to figure out what’s going wrong.”
He groaned again, this time in frustration, and tipped his head forward so she could massage the nape of his neck. “What’s your take on the situation?”
“Our design and production teams are the best in the business, but they mistrust each other on principle. What if they’re spending so much time blaming each other for the problem that they’re overlooking something else? Something no one’s thought of yet.”
“Such as?”
“I don’t know.” The rhythmic motion of her fingers paused as she thought about it, then resumed their slow massage of his neck muscles. “Some element in the manufacturing process that neither has control over. Something we don’t make. Something that comes in from the outside that—”
“The system program chip.” Forgetting his aching head, Conn sat straight up. “We subcontract it from Schoendorf Systems for less than it would cost to make it ourselves.”
“So what if there’s some sort of sporadic manufacturing problem at Shoendorf’s end? It’s possible that flawed chips are getting through our spot checks and into our units. That would explain why only some are faulty, while others are fine.”
Conn was already reaching for the phone. “I’m going down to the production floor to talk with Bob Miller. You call the warehouse and have them send over a random sampling of chips—pronto. We’ll test the little suckers this afternoon.”
“On it,” Andie said, already heading for the door. “I’ll call Shoendorf and have them fax over copies of all their quality-control tests for the last six months. I’ll also see if they’ve changed suppliers. Maybe the problem is farther up the line.”
Grinning, Conn watched Andie as she strode across the room and out the door, his hangover miraculously gone. “Tell that Frenchman of yours if he wants to marry you, he’ll have to go through me to do it,” he called after her. You’re mine!
Hell, he’d be bankrupt without her, he thought idly as he waited for someone down in Production to pick up the phone. It chilled him a little, just the thought of losing her.
There was no one else in the company whose judgment he trusted as much as he trusted hers. She didn’t just know the business inside out; she knew him just as intimately, able to finish his thoughts for him while he was still struggling to put an idea into words, able to follow his leaps of logic when he was sorting through a problem while everyone else stood around trying to figure out what he was talking about.
She was his sounding board when he needed to talk an idea through, and had enough solid ideas of her own that he’d learned to listen when she had something to say. She could cut through the clutter to the heart of a problem faster than anyone he knew, too, playing devil’s advocate when she needed to, knowing which questions to ask, which issues to raise.
Besides, unlike most of the people who worked for him, she wasn’t afraid of him. She tolerated his occasional lapses in temper, ignored his bellows of impatience, told him to shut up now and again when she got tired of listening to him rant and rave over some problem.
He had to grin. Everyone else just ran for cover and lay low until the storm blew over. But Andie always seemed to take things—and him—in stride, rarely rattled, never confused, a small spot of calm in an otherwise chaotic world.
He thought of holding her this morning. Of how she’d felt in his arms, all female softness and warmth, of the taste of her skin, her hair, her mouth. It had surprised him a little, how right she’d felt there. And his strong response had surprised him just as badly; he hadn’t realized until then just how damned sexy she was, how much he’d enjoy making love to her again.
How much he’d enjoyed it twelve years ago, he reminded himself with an inward smile. Strange, how a man could forget something like that until it all came rushing back, every detail of it, of her, so clear it could have been merely a night ago.
He realized what he was doing suddenly and sat upright with a breathed oath, irritated at his own wandering thoughts. He had to stop this. She’d kill him if she even suspected he was thinking of that night more than a decade ago, let alone remembering it in fond detail.
And this morning. This morning had nearly been the mistake of his life.
It had been too easy, reaching for her like that. Too comfortable. Granted, it had been a hell of a long dry spell since Judith had walked out, but a little sexual deprivation hadn’t killed a man yet. Simple lust was no excuse to ruin the best friendship he’d ever had or would ever have, so unless he was prepared to lose Andie completely, he had to make damned sure he kept things strictly business between them from now on.
* * *
Andie glanced at her watch, frowning at how quickly the morning was slipping by. Bob Miller and Frank Czarnecki would be in the third-floor meeting room in another half hour. And if she wasn’t there to referee, they’d be at each other’s throats in minutes, each convinced the other was responsible for the seismic unit’s dismal failure rate on the assembly line.
It wasn’t that neither wanted to take responsibility, it was just that both felt more loyalty to Devlin Electronics—and Conn—than they did to each other. They wanted the DeepSix seismic project to work. And took it very personally when it didn’t.
Her phone gave a subdued chime and she reached for it absently, doing some quick mental calculations on the new production figures for that gigantic order of memory boards they were putting together for a well-known computer company. On schedule and under budget, so far. She made a mental note to congratulate Bob Miller.
“Andie,” Margie said into her ear, “trouble’s on its way.”
“Trouble?” Instinctively, Andie looked up at her office door. “Who and what?”
“Killer shark,” Margie said with a chuckle. “Good luck.”
“Killer what?” But Margie had put the receiver down with a click, and before Andie could figure out what on earth she was talking about, her office door swung open and a swirl of red silk, swinging blond hair and expensive perfume came through.
Andie felt her hackles rise. “Good morning, Olivia. It’s nice to see you.”
“I doubt that,” Olivia Woodruff said with a quiet laugh. She smiled down at Andie. “Protective little enclave you have here, isn’t it? I have to practically submit to a strip search to get a visitor’s badge from Security, then I have to fight my way by Margie to get in here, then by you to see Connor.”
Smiling with equal warmth—that is to say, none at all—Andie leaned well back in her chair, legs crossed, and eyed the intruder calmly. “I’d tell you to go right in, but he’s not here.”
“In a meeting, I suppose.” Olivia’s eyes drifted toward the door to Conn’s office, as though suspecting a lie.
“No, he’s down on the production floor somewhere.”
“And I suppose having him paged is out of the question?”
“I wouldn’t suggest it. He doesn’t like being interrupted when he’s busy.”
“Not even for me?” The smile was bold. The eyes above it bolder.
“Not even for me.” Check and mate.
“Mmm. Serious indeed.” Olivia’s smile was as cool as her pale blue eyes.
As always, she was dressed for battle, clad in purple silk trousers and a coordinating purple-and-apple-green blouse, over which she’d carelessly tossed a brilliant red silk jacket. The effect was dazzling and expensive and probably created whiplash up and down the street as she passed by.
“So, our mutual friend is single again, I hear.”
“I don’t discuss Mr. Devlin’s personal business, Olivia,” Andie said with a smile. “You should know that by now.”
“True. Getting information out of you is like prying money out of one of my ex-husbands.” Shoving her hands in her jacket pockets, she gazed down at Andie companionably. “I suppose it’s only courtesy to advise you that I have designs on him.”
Andie bit back a hostile reply and smiled gently. “Well, then I suppose it’s only fair to tell you that you’re just one of many, Olivia.” She was amused to see a flicker of annoyance deep in the other woman’s eyes. She let her smile widen. “I figure by the time word gets around, he’ll be knee-deep in women with designs comparable to yours.”
Olivia didn’t smile back. “And what about you, Andrea? I get the impression you may have a design or two yourself.”
“Dating the man you work for isn’t good business, Olivia.”
“Oh, I don’t know. It’s been a long while since I worked for anyone but myself, but I seem to remember that dating the boss added a bit of excitement to the day. Although I suggest that if you decide to indulge in some midday desk-top lovemaking, lock the office door unless you want to startle the secretarial staff.”
Andie had to laugh. “Have you taken a good look at the top of Conn’s desk lately? Making love on it would be like making love in a mine field—if you came down on one of those prototype circuit boards the wrong way, you could hurt yourself.”
To her surprise, Olivia gave a snort of genuine laughter. “God, he’s like a kid with all that electronic junk, isn’t he? We were in his car last week, stopped at a red light, and the next thing I know he’s got his window down and is talking with a ten-year-old in the car beside him about video games!”
“If you’re serious about having designs on him, you’d better get used to it. And it would be a good idea if you learned how to play some of those video games, too.”
Olivia shuddered delicately. “I don’t think so, thanks.” She displayed long-tapered fingernails painted the exact shade of red as her jacket. “I’m certain I can interest Conn in games of a more personal nature.”
Andie thought fleetingly of being in Conn’s arms that morning, could still almost feel the coiled strength in his lean body as he’d pressed against her, wanting, needing....
“I have no doubt of that,” she said with forced calm, fighting the temptation to launch herself at Olivia’s slender throat. Killing Olivia wouldn’t do much good in the long run. Another woman would simply take her place. Trying to keep women away from Conn was like trying to keep bees away from a picnic.
“Well...” Olivia made an exaggerated show of looking at her watch. “I can’t spend all morning here. Are you sure you can’t call Conn and tell him I’m here?”
“I have no idea where he is,” Andie said quite truthfully. “It could take twenty minutes to track him down, and even then there’s no guarantee he’ll stop whatever he’s doing to take my call. You said it yourself—he’s like a kid when it comes to electronic gadgets. And the production floor is like a gigantic toy shop. He could be down there all afternoon.”
Olivia’s expression darkened and she glared at the door to his office impotently. “Tell him I was here, will you?”
“Of course. Does he have your number?” Low shot.
It earned her a cool look. “You know he does, Andrea. And trust me, honey—I have yours.” Countershot.
Andie had her mouth open to make a pointed retort when the door banged open and Conn strode in, grinning broadly. He had his expensively tailored suit jacket tossed carelessly over one broad shoulder, the top two buttons of his Armani shirt undone, hundred-dollar tie hanging loose around his neck. There was a smudge of grease on his shirtfront, his hair was tousled as though he’d run his fingers through it in exasperation and he was brandishing a circuit board like the Grail itself.
“You were right, darlin! Have I told you lately that I love you?”
Three
Olivia Woodruff was leaning against the corner of Andie’s desk, looking like a million dollars, as usual. She turned toward him with an expectant smile as Conn strode across the room. He gave her a nod of acknowledgment as he stepped by her and leaned down to plant a long and thoroughly satisfying kiss squarely on Andie’s upturned mouth.
Trying to ignore a distinctive and erotic stirring low in his belly, he grinned and squatted beside her chair, feeling like a five-year-old on Christmas morning as he brandished the circuit board. “You got it in one, hotshot. I owe you big for this one—you probably saved us about twelve million bucks in contracts.”
She grinned back, eyes sparkling. “So...it was the board.”
“Nearly three months ago, Shoendorf changed suppliers for one of the components used on the board. They’d been having trouble with quality control, but no one told us about it.” He dared to lean across to give her another swift kiss. “You’ve earned yourself a raise, kid.”
Andie laughed, looking as genuinely pleased at having the problem solved as he was. “So I can cancel the meeting with Production and Design?”
“Already took care of it. Bob and Frank are best buddies again, Purchasing is talking with Shoendorf about the problem, Bob shut down the assembly line until we run quality-control tests on all the boards in stock.... Crisis averted, thanks to you.”
Still laughing, Andie looked at his shirtfront and groaned. “I wish you’d put on a lab coat when you go down to the production floor to mess around. There’s a clean shirt in your office.”
“Don’t know what I’d do without you.” Another quick kiss and he was on his feet, looking around to smile at Olivia. “Hello, Liv, darlin’. Here to take me to lunch?”
“Forget it,” Andie spoke up promptly, her eyes glittering slightly. “We have to go over these figures again before this afternoon’s meeting. Make it dinner, or reschedule.”
Olivia smiled, reaching up to brush a smudge off his cheek, her fingers lingering there for a moment. “She takes such good care of you, doesn’t she?” she said sweetly.
There was something in her voice, in the very air around them, that made Conn look first at her, then at Andie. Both smiled beatifically, as charming as cats on a windowsill.
And as deadly, Conn thought uneasily. There was something a little dangerous in Andie’s eyes, and Olivia’s red fingernails flashed slightly as she took her hand from his cheek.
Now what? He knew Andie didn’t like Liv much, but there seemed to be an extra hint of hostility in the air today, a sense of something going on that he couldn’t quite identify.
Not that he deluded himself into thinking he’d figure it out in this lifetime. The complexities and rituals of female politics had always baffled the hell out of him. He’d decided a long time ago that the smartest thing a man could do was keep his head down and his butt safely out of the line of fire.
“Come on in and I’ll buy you a cup of coffee,” he said easily, putting his hand on Liv’s back and heading her gently but deliberately toward his office.