Honeymoon For Three. Sandra Field
ever met, she saw no reason to change her game plan. “I want something from you, Mr. Redden—and I’m willing to give you something in return.”
“Then you’ve just differentiated yourself from a great many people who come through that door,” he said drily.
“Have I?” Her lashes flickered. “You’re a very successful businessman—but I think you really care about the quality of your work and how it affects those who live with it. And that, I’d say, differentiates you from a great many people.”
She’d neatly turned the tables on him. “And why do you believe that about me, Ms. Haines?” he said, then wondered if she’d think he was fishing for compliments.
“I’ve done my research—I’ve read everything I could find about you and your company.” Again her inner excitement welled up, causing her words to tumble out. “You and I have something in common, I’m convinced of it—and it’s on the basis of that certainty that I’m here. Because if your time is valuable, so also is mine.”
She wasn’t being arrogant; she was simply stating a fact. Intrigued in spite of himself, Slade said, “You have an advantage over me. Because I know nothing whatsoever about you.”
“I own my own company too: Haines Landscaping.” Her lips quirked. “A much smaller company than yours. I’ve been doing landscape design in this area for five years, and last year I won both a municipal and a provincial award for a community park I designed in the north end of the city.”
Unable to contain her energy, she got up, walking over to the tall windows, which were streaked with rain, and gazing down into the street. “I love this city, Mr. Redden. I want it to be a good place for people to live. I want it to stay human-oriented ... user-friendly, if you like. And that’s where you can help. Because I think you share those values.”
“I’m not averse to making money,” he said sharply.
“Neither am I. Nor do I apologize for that.”
He leaned back in his chair, linking his hands behind his neck, feeling the pull on his chest muscles. “So what kind of a touch are you going to put on my checkbook?”
A flush rose in her cheeks. She jammed her hands in the pockets of her skirt and said with noticeable coolness, “I don’t want your money. I want your land.”
She was nothing if not straightforward, thought Slade. For some reason wanting to jolt her out of her composure, he said, “Land is money—surely I don’t have to spell that out for you?”
“Land is a lot more than money. I don’t have to spell that out for you.” She bit her lip, leaving a trace of peach-toned lipstick on one tooth. “Specifically, I’m interested in two properties—the old parking lot on Dow Street, and the comer lot on Cornell and Cruikshank. Neither one is what you’d call a desirable property in monetary terms.”
He got up too, and walked over to the window, his gaze trained on her face. “So why do you want them?”
She said with an intensity he was almost sure she was unaware of, “The parking lot on Dow Street could be made into a wonderful community garden—plots for individual families, small sheds for equipment, a shaded playground at the far end for the children whose parents are working in the garden. As it is now, it’s a wasteland—garbage all over the place, potholes, nothing to please the eye. Or the soul.”
Deliberately needling her, Slade said, “How very eloquent of you.”
Cory looked straight at him, her eyes narrowing. She might want something from Slade Redden but that didn’t mean she had to let him walk all over her. “Am I standing here making a fool of myself?” she said. “All those magazine articles that spoke in such glowing terms of your integrity and your old-fashioned values—were they just exercises in fiction and flattery?”
In a leisurely fashion that stopped just short of insult, Slade let his eyes wander over her face. Her lashes were thick and dark, and many a model would have paid a fortune to have her cheekbones. Quelling a crazy impulse to wipe the tiny fleck of lipstick from her tooth, and thereby feel the soft curves of her lips beneath his fingertip, he said abruptly, “What about the other property? On Cornell?”
“There are a couple of old people’s homes near that corner, as well as some low-rental housing. It could be made into a small park with benches, flowerbeds and shrubs—there are already three fine maples there for shade.”
“You design it and I pay—is that the deal?”
Her nostrils flared. “There’s no need to be gratuitously offensive, Mr. Redden.”
“You can always leave,” he said evenly.
“And then kick myself for the next month because I gave up too easily? No, thanks!”
He was only confirming what he already knew. “You really do want these projects to go ahead, don’t you?”
“Of course I do,” she snapped. “I wouldn’t be here otherwise—I already told you my time is valuable.”
“So what would your contribution be?”
“If you donated the properties to the city on the condition that they be kept as a garden and as a park respectively, I’d provide the design, the plants and the labor.”
He raised his brow. “That’s exceedingly generous of you... What’s your motive, Ms. Haines?”
She said pleasantly, “It’s been a long time since I’ve met a man who riled me as much as you do. Could my motive possibly be altruism? Or won’t that wash?”
She hadn’t left his office and she hadn’t backed down. “Nope,” he said. “Altruism, in my opinion, doesn’t exist.”
“I would consider that statement arguable.” Her smile was consciously provocative. “How about enlightened self-interest? Are you more susceptible to that?”
“You’re getting closer.”
“I’m a quick learner. As for my motive, I get the pleasure of seeing worthless land made both beautiful and useful. How will that do?”
“It’s going to cost you.”
“I can afford it.”
“I hadn’t realized landscape design was so profitable.”
For the first time he saw that he’d got beneath her skin. “The source of my money is none of your business,” she said shortly. “I can afford it. That’s all you need to know.”
“I’d need documentation to that effect before making any commitments.”
“You’ll have it.” She swallowed, feeling tension tighten her jaw. “Are you saying you’ll consider my proposal?”
“I’m free tomorrow morning between ten and eleven-thirty—that should be enough time to check the sites out.”
“I have an appointment at nine. I could pick you up outside your office at ten-thirty.”
I have a life too; that was what she was saying. He grinned at her. “I’ll be there. Bring your plans.”
“Thank you,” she said blandly. “Let me give you my business card in case there’s any change in the time.” Stooping by her chair, she extracted a neat green and beige card and passed it to him. Making no attempt to hide the sardonic note in her voice, she added, “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Redden.”
“Likewise, Ms. Haines,” Slade said, and took her coat from the hook, holding it for her. Her hair was pulled into a knot at her nape, long hair the colour of polished chestnuts; again her scent drifted to his nostrils. It was a long time since he’d been so aware of a woman, so awake to every tiny detail ... a very long time.
Quickly Cory shrugged into her coat, not wanting to prolong the contact of his hands on her shoulders. She turned to face him.