Her Man Upstairs Read Online Free PDF Page A

told me the job was a boondoggle. I’m not exactly sure what he meant. Actually, I’m not even sure what a boondoggle is, and words are my business—in a manner of speaking. Something to do with the government, I guess.”
    Cole had to smile—something he hadn’t done too much of in the recent past. “I think it’s a general description of most bureaucracies. You mentioned time constraints?” He reached for another biscotti—his third. The things were meant for dunking, but he figured he didn’t know her wellenough for dunking, so he bit off a chunk and tried to catch the crumbs in the palm of his hand.
    â€œRight. There’s this deadline,” she said earnestly. “New zoning laws go into effect the middle of March, and unless I’m in business before then, I won’t be grandfathered. That means—”
    â€œI know what it means.”
    â€œYes, well—of course you do. See, there are already several businesses in the neighborhood, but they won’t allow any new ones to open after the fifteenth.”
    She hooked her bare toes on the edge of the coffee table, then dropped them to the floor again. She kept rubbing her thumb and forefinger together like a crapshooter calling up his mojo. Her eyes darted to the clock, and she bit her lip.
    â€œMs. Owens, are you sure this is what you want to do? Tear up your house so you can open—what, a bookstore?”
    â€œI have to,” she said simply. Then, with another glance at the clock, she quickly explained about Marty’s New and Used. “Up until last fall I rented a two-room cinder-block building that used to be a garage and a bait-and-tackle shop and some other things. Anyway, the rent was cheap enough and the location was okay, I guess, but the income still couldn’t keep up with the overhead. Some days I didn’t even sell a single book.” She gave up rubbing her fingers and folded her hands together, resting them on her knees. Her toes were back on the coffee table. “So I thought if I reopened here, I’d at least save the rent because I own my house. It’s all paid off. My first husband inherited it from his mama.”
    Whoa. Her first husband? He was nowhere near ready to share personal histories.
    The third time he caught her looking at the clock he asked her if she had a problem.
    â€œNot really, but there’s this dog I walk twice a day. I’m running late today because I was waiting for—”
    She hesitated, and he filled in the blanks. She’d been waiting for him to show up.
    â€œFor the rain to stop,” she finished.
    The rain had stopped. A few chinks of salmon-pink sunset broke through the dark clouds.
    Cole said, “Then why don’t I leave you to it? I need to run a few errands if I’m going to stick around the area.”
    She looked so hopeful, he could have kicked himself. They hadn’t even reached a concrete agreement yet.
    â€œAre you? Going to stick around, I mean? Like I said, if things don’t work out just right, I’m stuck with a garage full of bookshelves and a spare room filled with thousands of used paperbacks.”
    â€œTwo things we still need to talk about—your deadline and my wages.”
    Looking entirely too hopeful, she said, “When can you give me an estimate?”
    If he didn’t watch it, Cole told himself, those big gray eyes of hers were going to influence his decision. That was no way to start rebuilding a career. “How about we both think it over tonight and I come back first thing in the morning with an estimate. If we reach an agreement, I can start right away. I should be able to bring it in on schedule, depending on how much time you need after the job’s completed.”
    They both stood. Her eyes and her ivory complexion and delicate features called to mind the word fragile, yet he had a feeling she was nowhere near as fragile as she looked.
    She said,