Blue-Eyed Devil (Travis Family #2)(46)

"I'm afraid you need to clean it again. The coffee doesn't taste right." Her brows lifted. "Unless you feel it's beneath you? I don't want you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable, Haven."

"No, it's fine." I gave her a shallow, innocuous smile. "No trouble. Anything else?"

"Yes. About your lunch hour activities."

I didn't reply, only stared at her innocently.

"You were doing something with the new tenant in his apartment this afternoon."

"I introduced him to an interior decorator," I said. "He asked me to."

"You didn't clear it with me."

"I didn't realize I had to," I said slowly. "It was more of a personal favor."

"Well, I have a rule that I should have explained before, Haven. There is no 'getting personal' with any of the tenants in this building. It can lead to trouble, and it can get in the way of doing your job effectively."

"Believe me, I wouldn't — " I stopped, completely thrown off guard. "There is absolutely nothing going on between me and Mr. Cates."

Some of my genuine consternation must have gotten through to Vanessa, because it was obvious she was pleased. Her face softened with the kind concern of an older sister. "I'm glad to hear that. Because someone with your history of failed relationships could make a huge mess of things."

"I . . . " My history of failed relationships? I'd only had one. One failed marriage. I burned with the desire to remind Vanessa that she'd been through a divorce too, and she was hardly one to talk. But somehow I managed to keep my mouth shut, while my face flooded with red.

"So," Vanessa said with a gentle smile, "no more private meetings with Mr. Cates, right?"

I looked into those clear eyes, at her smooth, tranquil face. "Right," I half whispered. "Anything else?"

"As a matter of fact . . . I noticed one of the vending machines near the conference room wasn't working. I'd like you to read the service number on the machine and call for it to be fixed."

"I'll do it right away." I forced my lips into a smile and stood. "Okay if I go now?"

"Yes."

I left her office and went to clean the coffee machine, thinking grimly that anything Vanessa Flint could dish out, I could take.

CHAPTER NINE

Vanessa's warning about staying away from the tenants hadn't been necessary. I had already decided to take Todd's assessment of Hardy to heart. I wasn't going anywhere near him. My rebound guy, when and if I found one, was not going to be manipulative or twisty twisted. He was going to be someone I could handle, someone who wouldn't overwhelm me. And although Hardy was only about seven or eight years older than me, he'd had infinitely more experience in just about every way. As far as sex was concerned, he'd gone "around the sugar bowl," as Aunt Gretchen would have put it, just a few too many times.But the day after Hardy had moved into 1800 Main, I found a wrapped package on my desk, tied with a neat red ribbon. Since it wasn't my birthday or any gift-giving holiday I could think of, I was mystified.

Kimmie stood at the entryway of my cubicle. "It was dropped off a few minutes ago," she said, "by one of the cutest guys I've ever seen. All blue eyes and bronzy muscles."

"I think it was the new tenant," I said, approaching the package like it might contain a bomb "Mr. Cates."

"If that's the kind of tenant we're attracting," Kimmie said, "I will work here forever. For no pay."

"I'd steer clear of him if I were you." I sat at my desk. "He's no respecter of women."

"One can only hope so," she said.

I shot her a distracted glance. "Did Vanessa see him bring it in? Did she meet him?"

Kimmie grinned. "Not only did she meet him, she was smacking her lips over him, like Samantha and I were. And she tried her best to find out what was in that package, but he wouldn't tell her."

Great, I thought, and repressed a sigh. It didn't take a genius to figure out I'd be cleaning the coffee machine at least ten times that day.

"Well . . . aren't you going to open it?"

"Later," I said. God knew what was in that box — I was going to wait until I could unwrap it in private.

"Haven . . . you're crazy if you think you can take that present out of the office without letting Vanessa know what it is." Although Kimmie seemed to like our boss, it was common knowledge that no detail of what went on in the office escaped Vanessa's notice.

I set the wrapped box on the floor. It was heavy, with a metallic rattle coming from inside. Was it an appliance of some kind? God, please let it not be some bizarre sex toy. "I don't have to let her pry into the details of my private life."

"Uh-huh." Kimmie gave me a skeptical glance. "Wait until Vanessa gets back from lunch. Your privacy will last about as long as an ice cube in Brownsville."

It was no surprise, of course, when Vanessa came straight to my cubicle when she returned. She was dressed in a pristine white skirt suit, with an ice-pink blouse that matched her nails and delicately glossed lips. I tensed as she half sat on the edge of my desk, looking down at me.

"We had a visitor while you were out," she remarked with a smile. "Apparently you and Mr. Cates have gotten friendly."