glanced at the calendar on the wall and saw that she had circled today's date in red. In tiny letters she had noted "T of S at 8. Must go Verna prod." Hastily Shannon deciphered the cryptic reminder and came to a sudden decision. Hopping down off the drafting chair, she left the cottage and went to knock on Garth's front door.
There was a short delay before Garth appeared at the door. He looked at her bemusedly for a moment, as if he had been in another world when she'd knocked. His shirt was open, the sleeves were rolled up on his forearms and he was barefoot. His dark hair was in disarray, as if he had been running his fingers through it. All in all, he appeared to have been very much involved in something when she had knocked. His expression cleared abruptly as he realized who stood on the threshold. Shannon was certain that he was pleased to see her. She wished his eyes would soften a bit more often the way they did now. He had terrific eyes.
"I just came over to see if you'd like to go with me to a local theater production tonight," Shannon began lightly, glancing curiously around the room. There was a pile of business documents and papers spread out on the old table in the corner. "A friend of mine is producing and directing it, and it should be interesting. They're doing The Taming of the Shrew and I can't wait to see how Verna has interpreted it. She's a strong feminist with very radical feelings on the subject of women's roles. I can't imagine how she'll handle Kate and Petruchio ." Shannon plowed to a halt, her curiosity getting the better of her. "Uh, are you working?"
"I was."
"On your vacation?"
Garth shrugged. "Why not?"
"Why not? Well, because you're supposed to be on vacation. What's the point of taking time off if you keep on working?"
"This is something that has to be done, Shannon. It's a crucial bid proposal my company will be submitting in a few weeks."
"Is that right?" She wandered over to the table and glanced down at the array of papers. "Good grief! They're all stamped Confidential." She backed away from the table and threw him an uncertain glance. "I guess I shouldn't be looking at them."
"They're company confidential, not government confidential." He came forward and shuffled the papers into a neat stack. "I don't think it much matters if you look at them. You've said yourself you flunked your cash register training course and business, in general, doesn't seem to be your forte. I doubt you'd find much of interest in these." He gave her a look of indulgent amusement.
"Let's not be patronizing," Shannon murmured sardonically. "Maybe I'm a corporate spy in disguise, sent her to arrange a so-called accidental meeting with you and then steal your bid proposal."
To her surprise he didn't seem to find the comment amusing. "No," Garth said evenly, "I don't think you're the company spy type."
"Have you known many?" she demanded, mildly resentful of his certainty. She was pretty sure it stemmed from his condescending attitude toward her lack of business acumen. Besides, no woman enjoys being told she lacks some aura of mystery, Shannon decided.
"I've known a few. The high-tech firms in Silicon Valley are always fighting a constant battle against corporate as well as international espionage. In my line of work spies of all kinds are a constant hazard. Almost as common as back-stabbing co-workers and hustling corporate-ladder climbers."
Shannon was appalled, not so much by the words but by his grim acceptance of his own world. "It sounds a little rough."
"You get used to it."
"Used to back-stabbing co-workers, hustling ladder climbers and spies? How could anyone get used to that?"
Garth smiled abruptly, startling her. Then, with lazy gentleness, he put out his hand and touched the curving sweep of her dark hair. "A man can become accustomed to a lot more than that, Shannon. He can also get used to the idea of not being able to trust anyone, especially a woman."
She went very still. "Are you