Unexpected Outcome. Dawn Stewardson
Noah was single.
While a few more facts were parading through Dana’s mind she reached her destination, which proved to be an old, but well-maintained, three-story brick office building.
Beyond the bar-protected glass of the front entrance she could see a wide, old-fashioned wooden staircase. To the right was a hallway, to the left a reception area.
It was accented with a variety of interesting-looking collectibles—undoubtedly examples of the sorts of things Four Corners imported. Between those and the numerous paintings on the walls, the space reminded her of a tiny gallery in a museum.
But when her gaze came to rest it wasn’t on any of the objets d’art. It was on the tall, dark-haired man talking to the woman behind the desk.
His back was to the door, so she couldn’t see his face. Given the set of his broad shoulders, though, combined with the relaxed way he was standing, she’d say he was the kind of man who felt comfortable in his own skin.
Hoping the humidity hadn’t done too bad a number on her hair, she combed her fingers through it. Then she pressed the buzzer.
The receptionist glanced over, scrutinized her, then released the lock. Apparently, the woman had been expecting her. The man turned to see who had arrived.
When he did, she felt a quick internal tug—a feeling she so rarely had that she almost didn’t recognize it for what it was. Instantaneous attraction. There was something about him…
She let herself study him for a moment, trying to determine exactly what it was, then finally decided it was a combination of things.
His eyes were the color of rich black coffee, his features strong and regular; his square jaw looked rock hard. All in all, it was hardly surprising that he’d started her pulse stuttering a little.
As she stepped inside he smiled at her—such a high-beam smile she couldn’t have stopped herself from smiling back if she’d tried. Then he glanced at her naked ring finger, and his apparent interest made her face grow warm.
Lord, how long had it been since she’d blushed? Certainly months. Possibly years.
“You must be Dana Mayfield,” he said.
“Yes. And you must be…?”
The receptionist’s phone began to ring.
“Noah Haine,” he told her as the woman picked up. “Robert’s nephew. I’ll take you to him.”
“Thanks.”
“Most of our office space is on this floor,” he said as she fell into step beside him. “Back there,” he added, gesturing toward the wall behind the staircase.
She nodded, just able to hear the muffled sounds of people at work.
“But Robert and Larry hide out upstairs. They like to keep clear of the line of fire.”
When he gave her a quick grin to say he was joking, she couldn’t help thinking it was positively criminal that she’d have to ignore the pull she felt toward him.
New York was not a primo city for meeting eligible men. Not eligible men who rang her chimes, at any rate.
At thirty-one years of age, she’d been in precisely three serious relationships, none of which had been serious enough to lead to marriage.
And these days, all the single men she came in contact with seemed to be either gay, work obsessed, or in critical need of therapy.
Given that, and adding in the fact she was…
She settled on selective, rejecting picky—a word her mother had been known to use. But semantics aside, the point was that Noah Haine was off-limits.
She firmly believed in never mixing pleasure with business. And even if that wasn’t true she’d be careful around Noah. At least until she felt sure she could rule him out as a suspect.
After all, he was the director of finance. And one of the “incidents” had involved a batch of invoices that never reached the customers.
Blood might be thicker than water, but that didn’t mean Noah-of-the-thousand-watt-smile couldn’t be playing games.
That thought front and center in her mind, she managed to keep her eyes off him until they reached the second floor.
At the top of the stairs was a small waiting area. Beyond it stood an empty conference room, its door open, and to their left was a short corridor.
“The corner offices,” Noah told her as they started toward them, “are my uncle’s and Larry’s.
“And this one in between belongs to Helen Rupert,” he added, stopping outside its door.
He introduced Dana to the woman sitting behind the desk, then said, “Officially, Helen is Robert and Larry’s executive assistant. In reality, she runs the company.”
Helen, a plump woman in her fifties, laughed.
“That’s only because I’ve been here forever,” she said. “And I know where all the skeletons are buried.”
Noah shot her a grin, then led Dana the rest of the way to Robert’s office—where both the partners were waiting for her.
In contrast to Robert’s refined appearance, Larry Benzer was a large man whom she’d have guessed would deal in sports equipment, or something of that sort, rather than collectibles.
He’d been a boxer in college, she recalled, thinking that even a brief check into someone’s personal life usually turned up interesting bits of trivia. And he’d obviously kept in shape.
As he shook her hand, almost making her wince in the process, Robert said to Noah, “There’s no reason you need to sit in on this. Larry and I are just going to give Dana an overview of the company.”
The look that flickered across Noah’s face said he suspected the older men were keeping something from him. And since his obvious guess would be that it was something to do with her, once he’d left she asked if he had thought it was strange that they’d hired a consultant.
“He was certainly surprised,” Robert admitted. “But we came up with a pretty good story—said that while he was out of town Larry’s wife began pushing the idea. Told him that she’d read an article about organizational designers and decided a good one could probably help pinpoint why we’ve been having problems.”
“Noah’s aware I haven’t filled her in on our saboteur theory,” Larry added. “If I did, she’d only be more concerned. So it would make sense to him that she’s just thinking in terms of problems.”
“I see,” Dana said. “And when you talked to Noah? Did you get the impression that he really believed all it took was her suggesting—”
“You’d have to know Martha to understand,” Larry interrupted. “Until a couple of years ago she worked with us. Actually, we hired her way back when, to help me with market development, and then I ended up marrying her.
“But that’s beside the point. Which is that she still feels she’s part of the company and…she’s kind of headstrong.”
Dana glanced at Robert in time to catch the hint of a weary smile. From that, she concluded Larry should have omitted the “kind of.”
“When my wife sets her mind to something and doesn’t get her way,” he added, “she can drive people crazy.”
“In other words,” Robert said, “Noah won’t be thinking it’s too unrealistic that we’d go along with her.”
Turning her gaze back to Larry, Dana said, “If she still feels she’s part of the company, does she ever stop by, or…”
“Oh, sure. We have a condo in SoHo, so it’s no distance. And every now and then she has a marketing idea that she just can’t wait to discuss.”
“I