guess I can understand that,” said Rose.
“Good. Because I really need your help. And I’m prepared to be generous,” he added, hoping to sway her with the more honest incentive of cold, hard cash.
At first she appeared uninterested in the offer. Then she glanced over her shoulder at the counter behind her and did that distracting, sort of pouty thing with her lips that he’d noticed she did when she was pondering something.
“How generous?” she asked.
Griff considered the price she’d charged for the string of dead flowers and named an hourly rate in keeping with it. He was desperate, he reminded himself as he saw her eyes flash with real interest, and something else—something he couldn’t quite name.
“I’ll do it,” she said. Then, before he could feel triumphant, she added, “But with a few stipulations.”
“Name them.”
“I’ll work for you, but not instead of you. I already have my hands full. I do a lot of business online,” she explained, pointing to the computer sitting on a small desk behind the counter, “so I’ll handle that part of the search. But you’ll have to be available to come along if I decide we should chase down a lead.”
“No problem. What else?”
“I’m the boss,” she declared. She waited for him to bristle the way he had the other day, and was caught off guard when instead, his eyes crinkled at the corners, and a slow, very appealing grin appeared.
“Well now, I’ve never had a lady boss. Maybe you ought to go into a little detail about how that works.”
“It’s not complicated, Griff. Think of me as your commanding officer. I’ll think of you as a raw recruit who doesn’t know his Waterford from his Wedgwood. Or, to put it more simply, I give the orders and you follow them.”
He had a little more difficulty with that one, she could tell, and she relished the moment. Truthfully, if he had asked her nicely, she would have been happy to help and would have refused to accept a penny. But he hadn’t asked; he’d waged a campaign. And she felt no qualms about recouping some of her loss on the garland.
“What sort of orders?” he asked finally.
“That’s hard to say at this point. Hunting for antiques is more art than science. You have to be constantly on the prowl and you have to have good instincts, good timing and good luck. Since we agree you don’t have any instinct for this sort of hunt, we’ll both have to rely on mine.”
“In other words, you’re the brains and I’m the muscle.”
“More or less.”
“I can live with that,” he agreed.
Rose waited. Neither his tone nor his lazy smile suggested resistance. Still, there was a prickle of apprehension at the back of her neck.
“With one little stipulation of my own,” he said.
She folded her arms. “Let’s hear it.”
“Your conditions apply to work time only. When we’re off duty, we’re on our own.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning you can forget that rule about officers not fraternizing with enlisted men.”
“I guess I can live with that,” agreed Rose, wondering what she was getting herself into.
“Good. When do we start?”
“I’ll let you know.”
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