Go for Love - Laura Chapman Page 0,1
could work without drywall for a while.
Maisie arched an eyebrow. “You’ll need someone to, you know, actually do the rewiring.”
Of course, she did. It was the most important next step. It was also the next step she didn’t have worked out in her head. Short of borrowing more employee labor from LinkDigital —which seemed like an abuse of company resources—she was at a loss on how to get the job done. And done right.
“And,” Maisie added, “they should probably work after hours to cause as little disruption to your day-to-day operations as possible.”
Which sounded both expensive and absolutely necessary. Especially if she wanted to stay on track for launch.
“You’ve been more than helpful,” Sarah said. “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in some after-hours bonus—”
Maisie shook her head before Sarah could finish. “It’s not that I’m not glad to help—I am. But this goes beyond my expertise. You should probably call in someone from the Internet service provider.”
That would—in all likelihood—blow her timetable. They’d be at the mercy of a company already scheduled out for weeks for anything but minor fixes. Waiting wasn’t an option.
It might be a little sketchy to ask for a workaround, but Sarah had no other choice.
“Any chance you know of an independent contractor with an opening?”
“Actually . . . ” Maisie tilted her head thoughtfully. “I know a guy. He does contract work for one of the bigger companies in town. During the day.”
“And he might be willing to put in some extra time on the side?”
“He might.”
For the first time that day, Sarah’s hopes rose, and the tension eased. “Can we bring him in? Today?”
“Maybe.” Now Maisie wasn’t meeting her gaze.
Running out of patience—yet not wanting to snap at the woman who had already done so much to help—Sarah took another deep breath in and out.
“What’s the problem?”
“It’s not a problem. At least it doesn’t have to be.”
“I’m sensing a but.”
“He just might not be your first choice.”
Sarah opened her mouth, about to say any choice was fine as long as it got the job done on time, within budget, and without breaking any laws. Then the pieces began to fall together.
“You mean . . .”
“Beck is the best there is at this kind of work.” Maisie’s lip curved up in a half-grin, even as Sarah’s stomach tumbled at the name. “I’m not just saying that because he’s my brother. He could do this in his sleep.”
He’d also probably drive Sarah to drink in the process.
They’d dated after college. Set up by mutual friends, their chemistry had been immediate and intense. But within a few months, it had grown too hot. After a final, explosive fight about something she couldn’t remember, she’d told him to lose her number. For once, he’d listened.
Hiring Beck to do this project was less than ideal. On any other day, Sarah would have ignored the suggestion. Still, Maisie was right. Beck could make quick and solid work of this.
Desperate times . . .
“Okay,” Sarah said. “Let’s bring him in.”
She hoped she wouldn’t regret it.
Chapter Two
Beck Spencer knew trouble when he saw it. And this office—and the woman running it—spelled big trouble.
The last time he’d seen Sarah Burton, she’d been two seconds away from tossing a cocktail in his face. Her ice-blue eyes had burned with rage over something he’d said. Of what, he couldn’t recall, but he’d probably baited her. He’d almost definitely baited her. In his own twisted way, he liked it when she snapped. When she shed that veil of control she kept in place in almost every situation. Oh, he admired her fortitude, her discipline. He also liked knowing he could get around it. That was the only time he felt like they were on even ground.
The woman waiting for him when the elevator door slid open was fully in control—of her emotions and her empire. She was every inch the executive. An executive in a T-shirt and jeans, but in command all the same.
Even though he’d never admit it—especially not to her—he liked this look too. A lot. More than the guy hired to rebuild her company’s network should.
Clearing his throat, Beck shook the hand she offered. Her grip was firm, confident. Yes, she was in command. And, yes, she could crush him if he gave her the chance. Again.
He kept up the shake longer than he should have while he tried to figure out what to say. For the life of him, he couldn’t come up with an appropriate greeting. “I’ve thought about you”