too much importance on one trait.
She’d dated enough guys to know that she’d never find anybody higher on the compatibility scale than Benjamin. Yep, they had the compatibility thing down…except Benjamin didn’t like risks and he wasn’t into sexual fantasies. He’d told her flat out that he didn’t have fantasies, didn’t need them, and wondered about the people who did. That had shut her up fast.
Considering his attitude, she wasn’t about to tell him about the fantasy that had gripped her from the age of eighteen. That was the year Michael Keaton as Batman had stepped through the open window of Kim Basinger’s darkened apartment. Eileen remembered the hot stab of desire she’d felt while sitting in the theater. What would it be like to have an anonymous man in her bedroom? She wanted that thrill for real.
But she’d been in her good-girl mode at eighteen, not wanting to rock the boat. Her parents’ marriage had stabilized by then. At the age of ten she hadn’t understood what had caused the problem, but looking back on it now, she was pretty sure another woman had been part of the equation. Her dad had also bought a Corvette and had tried out local stock-car racing.
But all that was over now. Her parents’ marriage was solid. But Eileen had learned from the experience that adventures need to take place before marriage, before the serious business of creating a family. If she could complete her sex-with-a-stranger project this week, she’d be ready to give Benjamin an answer on Saturday.
However, she’d have to concentrate on the project after she’d finished keying in these notes. Maybe her sexual fantasy was a priority, but keeping her job ranked right up there, too. She wasn’t willing to trade security for adventure. She wanted both.
By seven, she was the only person left in the suite of offices. Not surprising. The Diamondbacks were playing a three-game series at home, and she was one of the few who didn’t have season tickets. Benjamin had suggested they buy some for next year after she moved in with him. Maybe it was his version of a promise ring, to have tickets for next season.
Around seven-thirty, she opened her desk and pulled out the raspberry mocha energy bar that would substitute for dinner. She’d taken the first bite when she heard a clanking noise in the reception area.
Could be the cleaning service, except…that sounded like a power screwdriver, not a vacuum. She tried to imagine why a thief would be using a power screwdriver, or even what there was to steal in the reception area.
She’d have to investigate, but she didn’t want to be stupid, in case an intruder was really out there. All she had in the way of a weapon was her collapsible umbrella, a hold-over from the monsoon season which had pretty much ended a couple of weeks ago.
But as she gripped the umbrella’s plastic handle and pushed back her chair, she remembered about the phone system upgrade. Two days ago everyone had received a memo, but she’d been too involved in her sexual search to think about it again. Some communications company was installing the system tonight, after regular hours, to keep from interrupting business.
She listened for conversation that would confirm that the telephone guys were out there. When no one said a word, she figured out, being fairly smart and a law-school graduate, that one person was working alone. Smiling, Eileen leaned back in her chair, idly caressed the umbrella in her hand and pretended this was her Michael Keaton moment.
Roll the cameras. The sexy lady lawyer would wander into the reception area, and… No, first she’d unfasten the top three buttons of her blouse. Then she would wander into the reception area.
Kneeling on the floor next to the phone jack would be a gorgeous man wearing a tight T-shirt, soft jeans, work boots and a tool belt. The tool belt would ride low on his hips and would contain…lots of tools.
She would clear her throat. He would glance up. Or…wait. She’d walk right up beside him, and he’d look over and notice shapely legs placed conveniently at his eye level. Slowly his gaze would travel upward, appraisingly, until he was staring into her baby blues, mesmerized. No words would be necessary. He would know what to do. And she would let him do it.
In reality, the guy in the reception area probably had a wife, six kids, and a beer belly. Or it wasn’t a guy at all. No reason a woman couldn’t be installing the new system. The way Eileen’s luck had been running today, the installer would definitely be a woman.
The fantasy had been fun for a while, though. As long as she didn’t go out there, she could hold on to it. But she needed to make her presence known. The memo had requested that all personnel vacate the premises by seven. The installer expected an empty suite of offices, and he or she might not appreciate being startled by an employee who’d forgotten about the memo.
With a sigh, she put the umbrella back in her bottom desk drawer, wheeled her chair away from her desk and prepared to go out and burst her fantasy bubble.
SHANE NICHOLS TOOK OFF the faceplate on the telephone jack and inspected the wiring. Looked like it would support the added lines the client had requested, no problem. Funny, he’d been hoping for more of a challenge. He’d forgotten how much he loved the hands-on part of this business.
To think at one time he’d been eager for Mercury Communications to take off so that he could hire other people to do the actual installations. His dream had come true, leaving him stuck behind a desk while everybody else had the fun of going out on jobs. His job was now all about drumming up business and keeping current clients happy. Even when he left the office, he felt obliged to keep his pager and his cell with him at all times, in case a client had an emergency.
Both were nestled in his tool belt right now. He’d built his business on personal service, and in the beginning he’d loved that aspect. But little by little, like a creeping kudzu vine, the personal service aspect had obliterated his free time. If he didn’t deal with problems himself, especially for long-standing customers, they accused him of being a big shot who didn’t have time for them.
To be fair, there might be other aspects of the business he could let go of, but he didn’t know how. He’d handled everything himself for so long that he couldn’t imagine turning decisions over to someone else, someone without his background, someone who would probably screw it up. He’d created a monster.
At least tonight he could have fun with an installation, although he’d probably be interrupted by calls. Lou had been assigned this job, but Lou’s wife had unexpectedly gone into labor with their first kid. Lou needed to be with her.
Shane had leaped at the chance to take over and install the new system at Traynor and Sizemore. He must have sounded way too cheerful about giving up his evening, because Lou had asked him if something was wrong.
Hell, yes, something was wrong. His life was a mess, and he had only himself to blame. He’d created a company that now controlled his life. He’d sell it, but then he’d worry about how his employees would be treated. They were all terrific and wouldn’t be happy about a new owner.
He’d never imagined that success could be such a pain in the ass. The piles of paperwork on his desk grew taller every day, too. Mercury consumed so much of his time that he had no hobbies, no social life, barely even watched TV. His parents and brother had been after him about how hard he worked, and he kept promising to cut back, somehow. They were empty promises.
If this installation hadn’t forced him out of the office tonight, he might still be working at his desk, computer turned on, files open everywhere. Innovations in communications networks happened constantly, and he had to keep up if Mercury was to stay competitive.
But
