Back Where She Belongs - By Dawn Atkins Page 0,55

off the kinds of testing they did—current consumption, output voltage levels, electrical noise, response time and more she didn’t quite understand.

He parked outside the steel door and led her inside. To the left was a glassed-in office, followed by units of equipment with dials, meters and flashing lights. Across the space she saw cars with their hoods up, some hooked up to hoses and wires. A car’s engine roared as its wheels spun against steel rollers. The air smelled of rubber and hot metal.

Matt explained they used various stimulus inputs—acceleration, temperature, wheel rotation—to ensure the battery module behaved as it should. “Very impressive,” she told him, making him blush again.

“We’re pretty proud of it,” he said. “You should meet the boss.” He led her to the office, where she saw Dylan talking to a tall gaunt man with salt-and-pepper hair wearing a blue jumpsuit.

“Dylan,” she said when he noticed her. “We meet again. I swear I’m not stalking you.”

“I’m not sure I believe that.” He gave her that look again and it made her nerve endings throb.

“We ran into each other earlier,” she explained to Matt, guessing she had blushed redder than he had.

“We’re old friends,” Dylan said, holding her gaze.

“From high school,” she blurted, not quite able to pull away.

“Jeb Harris,” the other man said, holding out a hand. “Not to interrupt.” He looked amused.

“Tara Wharton,” she said, shaking his hand. “You have a remarkable operation from what I’ve seen.”

“Glad you think so. Maybe you could convince this guy.” He motioned at Dylan.

“Tweak your specs and I’ll be sold,” Dylan said.

Jeb shook his head. The two seemed amiably annoyed with each other.

“Soon as I finish showing Ms. Wharton around, I’m taking off,” Matt said to Jeb. “It’s another ultrasound.”

“If it’s necessary,” Jeb said tersely.

“It is.” Matt blushed furiously, clearly nervous that he’d displeased his boss. “This way,” he said to her, striding quickly away.

She hurried to join him near a car with its hood up. “This is where we install batteries for test runs,” he said, glancing at his watch. A tech bolted in a battery, while another checked dials on a machine.

Matt was clearly eager to leave, and she wanted to return to the building to speak with the key managers. “I should head back, if that’s okay,” she said. “You need to get going, too, right? The ultrasound?”

“Yeah. My wife’s twenty-four weeks along, but it’s been tough. The doctor asked to see her every two weeks.” They started back toward the cart.

“It’s good of you to take off work to support your wife.”

“Jeb’s not happy about it with us so busy, but family’s the most important thing.” The earnest look on his face touched Tara and made her feel guilty about her own behavior toward her family.

“Of course,” she said. She wondered now if she should have given them another chance, visited despite the tension, pushed past the barriers. Maybe she was dreaming.

As they passed the office, Dylan stuck out his head. “How about Ruby’s for dinner? Give us a chance to catch up. Say six?”

Catch up? They’d been together the night before, but maybe he had more news. “Sounds good,” she said, secretly eager for more time with him.

“My best to your wife,” Dylan said to Matt.

“Thanks,” he said, not meeting Dylan’s gaze. What was that about?

“Dylan knows your wife?” she asked.

“Yeah. Melissa was at a cookware party at his ex-wife’s.”

“Small towns, I guess,” she said, still not understanding the hostility.

“He’s a nice guy and all. It’s just that he’s selling us defective units. That’s what they were arguing over, Jeb and him.” He frowned.

“It’s a big problem?” she asked.

“They can talk all they want, but standards are standards. Ryland buys cheap components out of Tennessee and blames the tests when they turn out bad.” He glanced at her. “No offense to your friend.”

“None taken.” But it sounded like Dylan had his work cut out for him if what Matt said was true. Both companies had a lot riding on the project.

It was almost four o’clock when Tara got home, her head jammed with data and plans. She’d made headway with Davis Mann and the two people Miriam said Joseph trusted. It would take a couple days for the idea to percolate up to Joseph. If all went well, she wouldn’t have to say a word. He would approach her.

Judith met her at the front door holding out a paper sack with a receipt stapled to it. She looked oddly pale. “The funeral guy dropped this

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