Everywhere and Every Way
Page 41
She glanced over. Average height. Nice brown hair, dark eyes, and gold-rimmed glasses. The business suit and clean fingernails bespoke a businessman stopping on his way home for a drink. Morgan judged him completely harmless. “Yes, thank you.”
He nodded. “How was your day?”
How nice. Most men she met would never ask such a question, especially in a bar. Not that she’d ever spoken to men in bars. Bars were places for women who made mistakes. Morgan never made mistakes.
“Good. How about yours?”
He gave a long sigh. “Bad. Lost a client. Stressed to the max. I’m looking for something to help me relax.”
She clucked in sympathy. “Workaholic?”
“Absolutely. You?”
“Absolutely.” What a nice glow humming within her. Thank goodness Sydney was driving or she’d need to take a cab. “Maybe we both need to find ways to have more fun.”
“That would be nice. My name is Robert.”
“Hi, Robert. I’m Morgan. What do you do?”
“I work in finance. Stocks. High profit equals high intensity. You?”
“I build houses for people.”
He leaned forward, his brown eyes gleaming with interest behind the frames. “Interesting. House is your code word, huh?”
Puzzled by his question, and the secret game he seemed to be engaged in, she nodded. “Sure, if you say so. What’s your code word?”
He grinned. “Oh, I love the word house. Great choice.”
Uh, okay. Morgan figured he’d had a liquid lunch, but what the hell, he’d had a bad day. “You like helping others? Making them happy?” he asked.
Morgan smiled. “I never thought about it like that, but, yes, I like making people happy.”
“By . . . building houses?”
“Mostly. I like to match up a client with their fantasy house. Their satisfaction is the most important.”
“That’s good. Satisfaction is very, very good for a client.” He touched her hand gently, as if emphasizing his point. “These fantasy . . . houses. Are they expensive?”
“Definitely.”
“So, if I asked you to build me a house, how much would you charge an hour?”
She scrunched up her face and thought. “Usually I don’t charge by the hour. More like the entire project, depending on what you like, what you don’t, and what I can provide.”
“A real businesswoman, huh?”
“I guess.”
“If you were forced to break down your fees, though, into an hourly wage, how much?”
This conversation was getting way too weird for her. She decided to just throw a figure at him. “A lot. I guess maybe around two hundred per hour.”
The guy whistled. “That’s a fancy house. What if I’m not happy after paying so much?”
She hiccuped. Put down her Rumba Martini and figured she’d order some water before leaving. What a lightweight. She bet Sydney and Raven could double her two glasses and never even sway on their feet. What had this man asked? Oh, satisfaction. “I’ve never had a client complain. I give you the best of everything in service and satisfaction. Trust me, you’ll never have a better builder.”
Robert gave a little laugh. “Boy, you’re good at this. Okay, you sold me. Build me a house.”
Oh, yeah, he was way drunk. Still, she felt sorry for him. Poor man probably had no one to talk to. “You want me to build you a house, huh? When?” she teased.
His voice dropped. “Tonight. Right now. You in?”
Where the heck was Sydney? She looked around the bar. Raven was at the far end, trying to deal with the rowdy crew, and Sydney was nowhere to be found. She kind of wanted to leave and get away from this guy. “How long do I get to build it?”
“I’ll give you the night. What the hell.”
Morgan forced a laugh. “Build you a house in a night, huh? Yeah, sure. Why not?”
“Will five hundred do it?”
Morgan waved her hand in the air and finally got Raven’s attention. Raven nodded and made a motion to bring over the bill. “Five hundred is fine.”
“So, you’re saying clearly we have a deal, Morgan? I pay you five hundred dollars, and you stay with me for the night?”
What had he said? Raven reached her and slid over the bill. Morgan fumbled for her purse, desperate to get some distance. No wonder her mother didn’t want her to hang out in bars. Weird men frequented them. “Whatever you say, Robert. We have a deal.”
As if. Morgan tossed some cash for Raven’s tip on the bar and took out her Visa card.
“I’m glad you’ve been so accommodating. Made my job a hell of a lot easier.”
His words still made no sense, so she basically ignored him. The click of Sydney’s heels echoed over the plank floors and relief flooded through her. “Oh, there you are. I got the bill, and I’m ready to get out of here.”
“I bet you are,” Robert stated. “But you won’t be building any houses tonight, sweetheart.”
She cocked her head. “I’m afraid I still don’t understand you.”
Robert grinned and stood up. Opening up his suit jacket, he took out a pair of handcuffs and some black machine that looked like a recorder. Uh-oh. Was he going to try to blow up the bar? Oh, my God, he was a terrorist. Morgan thought furiously about her next move, but it was too late. He’d grabbed her wrist and locked a cuff around it. Cold satisfaction carved out his nondescript face. “You’re under arrest.”
Her mouth gaped open. Sydney shrieked. “Arrest? For what?” Morgan managed to yelp.
“Prostitution.”
Raven whistled. “Dude, I had no idea. That’s not cool in my bar.”
Her mind spun, and she felt as if she’d stepped into a sci-fi movie that had gone straight to DVD. “I’m not a prostitute!” she yelled. “I build houses!”
“Sure you do. Let’s go. I’m taking you to the station.”
Sydney jumped in front of him. “You made a huge mistake, Officer. Let her go unless you want a lawsuit on your hands!”
The cop frowned and jerked his head at Sydney. “Wanna come, too? Just say the word.”
Sydney gulped.
“Thought so.”
As Morgan was dragged out of the bar, Sydney’s voice echoed loudly behind her. “Don’t worry, Morgan, I’ll meet you at the police station—I’ll fix this!”
He nodded. “How was your day?”
How nice. Most men she met would never ask such a question, especially in a bar. Not that she’d ever spoken to men in bars. Bars were places for women who made mistakes. Morgan never made mistakes.
“Good. How about yours?”
He gave a long sigh. “Bad. Lost a client. Stressed to the max. I’m looking for something to help me relax.”
She clucked in sympathy. “Workaholic?”
“Absolutely. You?”
“Absolutely.” What a nice glow humming within her. Thank goodness Sydney was driving or she’d need to take a cab. “Maybe we both need to find ways to have more fun.”
“That would be nice. My name is Robert.”
“Hi, Robert. I’m Morgan. What do you do?”
“I work in finance. Stocks. High profit equals high intensity. You?”
“I build houses for people.”
He leaned forward, his brown eyes gleaming with interest behind the frames. “Interesting. House is your code word, huh?”
Puzzled by his question, and the secret game he seemed to be engaged in, she nodded. “Sure, if you say so. What’s your code word?”
He grinned. “Oh, I love the word house. Great choice.”
Uh, okay. Morgan figured he’d had a liquid lunch, but what the hell, he’d had a bad day. “You like helping others? Making them happy?” he asked.
Morgan smiled. “I never thought about it like that, but, yes, I like making people happy.”
“By . . . building houses?”
“Mostly. I like to match up a client with their fantasy house. Their satisfaction is the most important.”
“That’s good. Satisfaction is very, very good for a client.” He touched her hand gently, as if emphasizing his point. “These fantasy . . . houses. Are they expensive?”
“Definitely.”
“So, if I asked you to build me a house, how much would you charge an hour?”
She scrunched up her face and thought. “Usually I don’t charge by the hour. More like the entire project, depending on what you like, what you don’t, and what I can provide.”
“A real businesswoman, huh?”
“I guess.”
“If you were forced to break down your fees, though, into an hourly wage, how much?”
This conversation was getting way too weird for her. She decided to just throw a figure at him. “A lot. I guess maybe around two hundred per hour.”
The guy whistled. “That’s a fancy house. What if I’m not happy after paying so much?”
She hiccuped. Put down her Rumba Martini and figured she’d order some water before leaving. What a lightweight. She bet Sydney and Raven could double her two glasses and never even sway on their feet. What had this man asked? Oh, satisfaction. “I’ve never had a client complain. I give you the best of everything in service and satisfaction. Trust me, you’ll never have a better builder.”
Robert gave a little laugh. “Boy, you’re good at this. Okay, you sold me. Build me a house.”
Oh, yeah, he was way drunk. Still, she felt sorry for him. Poor man probably had no one to talk to. “You want me to build you a house, huh? When?” she teased.
His voice dropped. “Tonight. Right now. You in?”
Where the heck was Sydney? She looked around the bar. Raven was at the far end, trying to deal with the rowdy crew, and Sydney was nowhere to be found. She kind of wanted to leave and get away from this guy. “How long do I get to build it?”
“I’ll give you the night. What the hell.”
Morgan forced a laugh. “Build you a house in a night, huh? Yeah, sure. Why not?”
“Will five hundred do it?”
Morgan waved her hand in the air and finally got Raven’s attention. Raven nodded and made a motion to bring over the bill. “Five hundred is fine.”
“So, you’re saying clearly we have a deal, Morgan? I pay you five hundred dollars, and you stay with me for the night?”
What had he said? Raven reached her and slid over the bill. Morgan fumbled for her purse, desperate to get some distance. No wonder her mother didn’t want her to hang out in bars. Weird men frequented them. “Whatever you say, Robert. We have a deal.”
As if. Morgan tossed some cash for Raven’s tip on the bar and took out her Visa card.
“I’m glad you’ve been so accommodating. Made my job a hell of a lot easier.”
His words still made no sense, so she basically ignored him. The click of Sydney’s heels echoed over the plank floors and relief flooded through her. “Oh, there you are. I got the bill, and I’m ready to get out of here.”
“I bet you are,” Robert stated. “But you won’t be building any houses tonight, sweetheart.”
She cocked her head. “I’m afraid I still don’t understand you.”
Robert grinned and stood up. Opening up his suit jacket, he took out a pair of handcuffs and some black machine that looked like a recorder. Uh-oh. Was he going to try to blow up the bar? Oh, my God, he was a terrorist. Morgan thought furiously about her next move, but it was too late. He’d grabbed her wrist and locked a cuff around it. Cold satisfaction carved out his nondescript face. “You’re under arrest.”
Her mouth gaped open. Sydney shrieked. “Arrest? For what?” Morgan managed to yelp.
“Prostitution.”
Raven whistled. “Dude, I had no idea. That’s not cool in my bar.”
Her mind spun, and she felt as if she’d stepped into a sci-fi movie that had gone straight to DVD. “I’m not a prostitute!” she yelled. “I build houses!”
“Sure you do. Let’s go. I’m taking you to the station.”
Sydney jumped in front of him. “You made a huge mistake, Officer. Let her go unless you want a lawsuit on your hands!”
The cop frowned and jerked his head at Sydney. “Wanna come, too? Just say the word.”
Sydney gulped.
“Thought so.”
As Morgan was dragged out of the bar, Sydney’s voice echoed loudly behind her. “Don’t worry, Morgan, I’ll meet you at the police station—I’ll fix this!”
