James, Sherry - [Studs For Hire 02]

by Woman In Charge (lit)

  What else could she do? Her stomach roiled, her head ached, and in general, her life sucked. The day had gone from bad to horrendous with each tick of the clock. And what was worse, Alex's leaving had brought back ugly memories of the night her father had walked out the door of their split-level home. He never came back, except to sign the divorce papers.

  And it looked like she'd seen the last of her star architect, too. Casey let out a deep sigh. At age thirty-three, it seemed her life had become nothing but a series of disappointments.

  She stole a glance at the mantel clock. Thank God in forty-eight minutes the day would be over. However, tomorrow didn't look promising, either. Breaking the news to Heather that Alex wanted no part in her Elvis-encrusted world, wasn't going to be pleasant.

  Maybe she could persuade her dentist to do a root canal on a Saturday. Anything would be more appealing than telling Heather she wasn't going to get exactly what she wanted this time. When Heather didn't get her way, she made an Amazon warrior princess look like a chocolate cupcake.

  "Chocolate.” Casey bolted upright. “That's what I need, chocolate. Chocolate makes everything better.” Setting down her wine glass, she padded to the kitchen in search of all the chocolate she could find.

  By the time she'd searched all the cupboards and found none, panic took over. “I can't believe there's no chocolate in this house. There's always chocolate in this house. Brudy, have you been raiding the cupboards again?"

  Brudy stood by her feet in anticipation of his own treat, his tail wagging his entire hind end from side-to-side. His tongue hung down to his knees.

  "Gee, and I thought I was desperate for food.” She reached for a biscuit from his doggie treat jar on the counter and the phone rang. The sound startled Casey. Glancing at the clock she was reminded again that it was well past eleven. She raced for the phone afraid something was wrong with a member of her family.

  "Hello, mom?” she asked, without even bothering to check the caller ID.

  "I've been called many things, but mom isn't one of them,” an all too familiar female voice replied.

  Casey's stomach dropped. Holy crap. Heather. Honestly, what had she done to deserve this day? Her mind whirled. Did she dare hang up and hope Heather thought she'd dialed the wrong number?

  "Casey? What's going on?"

  Damn. So much for hanging up and pretending she hadn't called. “Uh, nothing. I guess I'm not really awake,” she fibbed, throwing in a yawn for good measure. “I'm not used to getting calls this late."

  "Is it late? I've no idea. I have to talk to you."

  "Really? What about?” Casey clamped her eyes shut, crossed her fingers and toes, and hoped all Heather wanted to talk about at eleven thirty-one was the latest Elvis artifact she'd acquired.

  "I'm concerned about Alex."

  Shit. Her luck really was in the toilet today.

  "Oh,” she croaked. Gutless. Spineless. Let's see, what other adjective could she use to describe herself? Like a madwoman, Casey started combing her cupboards for another round of searching. Chocolate. She needed chocolate.

  "He didn't seem very enthusiastic tonight about the remodel. I need some reassurance,” Heather whined.

  "Reassurance?” Casey searched faster, now digging through the hot pad drawer. There had to be some chocolate somewhere. Whenever she started a diet she hid all the chocolate in the house in places where she figured she'd forget. However, the concept didn't usually work—her willpower was never strong enough to allow time for forgetting.

  Crap, why couldn't her willpower have held out at least once? She was desperate for a bag of M & M's or a Hershey Bar.

  "Yes. Reassurance,” Heather said, now with irritation. “Is he excited about the job?"

  "Ah, excited? Yeah, he's excited.” She moved onto another cupboard, frantically pushing aside jars and cans of spaghetti sauce, applesauce, and pickles. Nothing.

  "Are you sure? I'm pretty good at reading people's auras and stuff and I got the sense he's not. Casey, you wouldn't be lying to me, would you?” Heather asked, her tone cold enough to freeze the M & M's dancing in Casey's mind like sugar plums.

  Her heart stopped. She couldn't breathe. Her roomy kitchen suddenly felt restrictive and suffocating. Brudy barked, knocking her out of her panic attack. Okay, she needed to get a grip, stop obsessing about chocolate and be that professional woman she prided herself on being. She could handle Heather, in her own way, in her own time.

  "You have dog?"

  "Yes."

  "How sweet. I love animals. Now, about Alex—"

  "Alex and I tossed around some great ideas tonight. I assure you we're both really excited about this, Heather. We can't wait to get started."

  "Oh, I'm relieved to hear that. I can sleep now."

  "Right. Get some sleep. I promise we'll be in touch soon. Good night.” Before Heather could utter another word, Casey disconnected.

  Brudy sat on his haunches and looked up at her with a shame on you look in his brown eyes.

  "Stop it. I don't need your censure when lightning is probably going to strike me down at any moment anyway. Now let's go."

  Casey slipped on her tennis shoes, grabbed her purse and headed for the front door. Brudy followed behind, his toenails clicking on the hardwood floor with each step.

  "We're making a McDonald's run. I'm desperate for a chocolate salvation."

  * * * *

  Alex had no more dropped his suitcase onto the king-sized bed in his hotel room when his cell phone vibrated against his hip. Tired and worn out from a trying day, he wanted to let the call go to his voice mailbox and deal with it later. But since the Gridmore job hadn't turned out on a positive note, he was now without work and this call, even though it was late, could be a new opportunity.

  Flipping open his phone, he saw it was his secretary, Dotty. In her mid-fifties and a widow, Dotty was as loyal an employee as Alex could ever hope for. She always put in more hours than her time card indicated and made sure Alex Roy Enterprises ran as efficiently as a trusty Timex.

  "Hey, beautiful,” he said, his customary greeting for the woman he owed his career to. “What's up?"

  "Sorry to be calling you so late, Alex.” Uh-oh. No teasing back, no smile in her sweet voice. Something was wrong.

  "No problem, Dotty. I just got in when you called."

  "Long business dinner?"

  "Yeah.” If you could really call it that. A total screw up with a talented and beautiful woman seemed more like an appropriate title for the night's events.

  "That's good. I held off calling you earlier because I figured you'd be out to dinner, but I felt this really couldn't wait until morning, either."

  The hair on the back of Alex's neck prickled. “What's going on? Are you all right?"

  "Sweet Alex. Always thinking of me first. In spite of her faults, your mama managed to raise you right."

  "So you've told me a million times,” Alex chuckled softly, hoping to ease the tension he felt through the phone. “Now, tell me what's wrong."

  "I'm afraid I have some tough news. We got word today that our bank, Mountain Financial, is being bought out by another, larger, financial institution called Western Bank. And unfortunately, they've thrown Alex Roy Enterprises into the high-risk category."

  Alex suppressed a groan, not liking the sound of this. “Meaning?"

  "Meaning your note with Mountain Financial was scheduled for renewal thirty days from now."

  "Was?"

  "Western Bank isn't willing to assume the old loan and write a new note."

  "What? They can't be serious? I've banked with Mountain Financial for what, at least fifteen years? I've never defaulted. Hell, I've never even been late making a payment. Doesn't my track record mean anything?"

  "I know. It's horse-hockey,” Dotty cussed in her simple, old-fashioned way. “Alex. They're requiring that the full two-hundred and fifty thousand be paid-in-full by November tenth."

  "Hell. Dotty, what am I going to do? Where
am I going to find that kind of money?"

  "Well, you do have a little in reserve, but that won't even cover a fourth of the note. I guess we'll have to go bank shopping."

  Alex groaned, hating the thought of begging and pleading before some banker who saw him as nothing more than a series of numbers.

  "Hey, look on the bright side. Since you're starting that new job in Omaha, I'm sure there's a bank who'll be willing to assume the loan,” Dotty said with optimism. “It's not like you're totally destitute and unemployed."

  Uh, yes—he was. Like an idiot, he'd turned down the job. Damn. Alex scrubbed a hand over his face. He hated the idea of eating crow, and telling Casey he'd changed his mind would be doing just that. But to save his business it looked like he had no choice.

  "Listen, Dotty, I've got a few things to iron out here yet. Give me the weekend and then I'll be home to handle this banking ... issue. In the meantime, see if you can line up some appointments with other banks for the first of the week."

  "Will do, boss. And Alex, try not to worry. We'll work this out.” Ah, bless Dotty, she was always the silver lining on his dark clouds.

  "Hey, beautiful, with you watching my back, I can't lose. Get some rest. I'll talk to you Monday at the office. Night."

  "Goodnight, Alex."

  He flipped his phone shut and took a deep breath. Hell. “So much for Elvis leaving the building."

  Chapter Five

  "How did it go yesterday, Casey?” Sydnie Riley hollered as Casey tried to sneak past the open door. So much for escaping into her office undetected. That was the problem with having smart, savvy businesswomen for partners. She couldn't get away with nothin'.

  Still, she kept her chin up and kept tiptoeing.

  "Ca-sey,” Syd said in a singsong rhythm.

  Casey stopped short and sighed. There was no use in pretending she didn't hear her name. Sydnie wouldn't be put off. As President of Studs for Hire, Syd oversaw the entire operation and nothing, no matter how small the job, problem, or the success, she was on top of all company matters.

  Casey closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and backed up three steps. Opening her eyes, she saw Sydnie sitting behind her desk with an anxious look on her face.

  "Well?” Syd asked.

  Casey groaned, hating like heck to be the deliverer of rotten, disappointing news.

  "That bad, huh?” Syd asked when Casey didn't volunteer any information.

  "That depends,” she said at last, hoping to let her friend down easy. She plunked down on an overstuffed chair opposite the desk. Her jeans pinched her waist and now she wished she'd had the fortitude to say no to that late night chocolate shake run.

  "Depends?” Syd asked. She arched one slim brow. “Depends on what?"

  "Which part of yesterday you're asking about."

  "Just how many parts did your day have?"

  "Too many to talk about. So, let's leave it at that, shall we?” Casey sighed and let her head fall back against the softness of the chair. “You're here bright and early for a Saturday morning. Don't you ever take a day off?"

  "Oh, no you don't, partner. I'm not letting you change the subject that easy. Fill me in on what happened at the Gridmore mansion yesterday. I've got a lot riding on this job, too."

  Casey sighed. “I knew it. You aren't going to let this rest, are you?"

  "Nope."

  "Just once, why don't you surprise me? You're so predictable, Syd. And obsessive."

  "When it comes to money and our reputation, I'm predictable and obsessive as hell. And so are you. If you weren't, you wouldn't be here now looking like you could use a pound of chocolate."

  Oh, God. Even after her late night indulgence of a thick, chocolate shake, she still didn't look satisfied? If she ate much more, her waistline and hips would protest by refusing to let her even pry on a single pair of the jeans in her drawer.

  "Do you think chocolate is the cure for everything? I mean eat chocolate and you'll forget your woes, forget you're sex-deprived, and your checkbook is dry,” Casey said.

  Restless and agitated, she got to her feet and grabbed a bottle of water from the stock of liquid sustenance they kept stashed in Syd's mini-fridge under the bar. Everything from caffeine to alcohol to healthy drinks cramped the compact space. Casey took a long swallow and leaned against the bar, proud she was at last consuming something with zero calories.

  "Your checkbook being dry I knew. Now you're suffering from sex-deprivation, too?” Syd asked. “Tsk. Tsk. Tsk."

  Casey shot her friend a tight smile. “Deprived isn't exactly the word I'd use. It's more like ... limited. And that's just lately. When I said I'd partner with you on this business, I didn't expect to be run ragged working all the time. I don't have time to date anymore."

  "Hmm. Is that it,” Syd said, not sounding at all convinced.

  "You, on the other hand, don't seem to be suffering these days,” Casey stated. “How are things going between you and Trevor? Tell me. We never have much time to talk anymore, either."

  "Things with Trevor are going great. And his new advertising agency is booming as much as Studs for Hire is. I'd love to girl talk more, Casey, but I'm afraid it'll have to wait. Heather has called twice this morning already."

  Casey groaned. Man, the woman didn't give up. “What did she say?” she asked, but in truth she didn't want to know anything.

  "To be honest, I'm not sure. She was rambling on so fast about deadlines, black leather and I don't know what all. What I did catch was that she wants you to call her ASAP. It's important, she said.” Syd picked up two pink slips of paper and waved them in the air.

  Casey pushed away from the bar and snatched the notes from Syd's hand. The messages said nothing more than what Syd had already told her, but the idea the moment of truth was at hand, and Alex was on his way back to Denver, made her stomach lurch.

  "Ugh. What am I going to do?” She slapped the notes against her forehead, cradling the headache starting there.

  "For starters, why don't you tell me what's going on. Didn't your hotshot architect fly in late yesterday?"

  "Oh, he flew in all right. And flew the coop this morning.” Casey stabbed her hand through the air.

  "What? He's not taking the job?"

  "Apparently he's not an Elvis fan."

  "Who's not an Elvis fan?” Terri Alberry, Casey and Syd's third partner in Studs for Hire, asked as she breezed into the room with an armload of files to join her friends.

  "The architect Casey hired for Heather's remodel."

  "Oh. That's not good. Does Heather know? She might not be too happy to hear that there are actually people who don't like Elvis,” Terri said.

  "Truthfully, I don't think Heather cares,” Casey said. “She's so hot for Alex she'd take him even if he thought Lisa Marie and Michael Jackson's marriage was a match made in heaven."

  "Maybe she's thinking she can turn him into an Elvis convert. That can happen,” Terri said.

  "Well, he didn't actually say he wasn't an Elvis fan. He just thinks Heather's plan is a little ... screwy."

  "I for one, agree with him,” Syd said. “But, it's not for us to judge. She's hiring us to do a job."

  "Therein lies the problem. Alex maintains this type of job isn't his area of expertise. His specialty is timber frame homes."

  "We're all about giving the customer what they want,” Syd said. “If Heather wants Elvis International, Las Vegas style, then that's what she gets. It's up to us to deliver."

  "I know, Syd. I agree with you. His concern is if word gets out, it'll ruin his reputation, his credibility."

  "All right. I can understand that considering what Heather wants. However, it's up to you, Casey, to convince him that won't happen. Besides, we're talking big money here. Didn't you tell him what Heather is willing to pay to make this quirky dream of hers come true?"

  "Exact figures? No. We didn't make it that far. As he was doing dishes in my kitchen, I did try to convince him money wouldn't be an issue for
Heather, though."

  "Dishes? The guy does dishes?” Terri asked. Her eyes glazed over with longing and she sighed.

  "Yes."

  "Is he hot?” Syd asked.

  "In a woodsy sort of way.” Casey shrugged, not wanting to let on how he'd affected every nerve in her body. “He looks like a lumberjack. Normally I'm not one for red and navy checked flannel, but seeing it on him did give me a whole new appreciation for the fabric."

  "In other words he's damn hot,” Syd said, a huge smile covering her face.