Breath of Scandal(52)

-I want to know what the hell this is. " The reel of conduit landed on top of Haskell's desk with a solid thud. He sent his desk chair flying backward on its casters.

"What do you think you're doing?" he squealed. "Get that thing off my desk."

Dillon braced his hands on either side of the metal spool and leaned over it. "Listen to me, you little shit, I'm going to make you cat every foot of this worthless stuff if you don't come across with a full explanation of why you didn't buy what I wrote on the purchase order months ago. You've got ten seconds."

"The wiring you ordered was three times as expensive as this," Haskell said, having recovered some equanimity. "The wiring I ordered is three times as good and three times as safe."

"This meets local building codes."

"It doesn't meet mine," Dillon said through clenched teeth.

"If I didn't know it was sufficient-"

"You don't know jackshit. This building is going to be filled with all types of sophisticated electronics. To avoid catastrophe, it's got to have the best possible wiring. "

Dillon grabbed the telephone and dropped it into the unsuspecting accountant's lap. "Now, get your skinny ass on the phone and place the order I originally sent in. I want the materials delivered no later than noon tomorrow, or I'm going to send every one of those electricians with nothing to do in here to jerk off on your desk."

The telephone clattered to the floor as Haskell shot to his feet. "You can't talk to me like that."

"I just have. " Dillon nodded down at the telephone. "You're wasting time. Do it."

"I won't. It's my responsibility to see that we keep expenses down. "

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145

"I agree, as long as it doesn't compro ise the integrity of the building. In this instance, it does."T

"The wiring I ordered is sufficient and, according to the local government, safe."

"Well, according to Dillon Burke, it's crap. I won't install it in my building."

"Your building?" Haskell said with a supercilious smile. "Just order the wiring I requested, Scanlan."

"No. I I



Dillon liked harmony as well as the next man, and he avoided confrontation whenever he could. But he wasn't about to lower his standards on his first project. Nor was he willing to go to Pilot again. Pilot had already told him to take charge.

"Either get on the telephone now," he said calmly, I or you're fired."

Haskell's pointed jaw fell open. "You can,t fire me.f "The hell I can't."

"Oh Yeah? We'll see what Mr. Pilot has to say about it.- "I'm sure we will. In the meantime, consider yourself off this project. And, unless you want me to pound the crap out of your face, I suggest you stay away from me until You're gone for good.

Debra's adversary was boredom. Their tint few months in France, she had occupied herself with decorating the apartment on a shoestring budget and had succeeded as far as the limitations of the building permitted.

They had discussed the possibility of her getting a job, but it wasn't feasible. There were no openings for teachers in the English-speaking schools, and shopkeepers preferred to him their own rather than employ an American. So Aw wiled away the daytime hours b reading, strolling the nary



row, quaint streets, and writing long letters to her many relatives. Although she tried to hide it from Dillon, she became homesick and listless. She had to forcibly stave off depression.



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Sandra Brown



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Her pregnancy rejuvenated her. She suffered no unpleasant side effects and swore she had never felt better. She was imbued with energy. Daily, she and Dillon marveled over the subtle changes in her body. This new kind of intimacy deepened their love for each other.

To help pass the time until the baby came, she enrolled in a cooking class that was held within walking distance Of the apartment. There were four other women in the class and two men, all of retirement age. They, along with the grandmotherly chef, fussed over her like mother hens. Afterward her days were spent either in class or in her tiny apartment kitchen practicing what she had learned, or shopping in the neighborhood markets for the ingredients necessary to audition her culinary skills for Dillon. She would arrive home with her arms loaded with purchases and take them up by the creaky elevator that Dillon had forbidden her to use.

That particular afternoon she almost got caught, arriving home only moments before he did. Immediately he hugged her and planted a firm kiss on her cold lips. Then, grinning, he released her and said, "Let's go to Switzerland." "Switzerland?"

"Yeah, you know, one of the countries that shares a border with France-goats and Heidi, Alps and snow, yodo-la-dee-ho. "

"Of course I know Switzerland. Remember our weekend in Geneva?"

"Was that where our room had the mirror on the ceiling. "So you do remember."

"How could I forget?" he growled, reaching for her again. Their mouths melded into a kiss.

"We don't need miffors on the ceiling," she whispered when they finally pulled apart.

"But I need to get out of town and celebrate." "Celebrate what?"