One of These Nights. Justine Davis
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She really was very leggy, he thought. And very blond.
And she appeared to be moving in next door.
The woman set a large box down on the front porch of the house. Then she froze. And slowly turned her head and looked right at him.
Ian jerked back from the window, startled.
You can’t be sure she was looking at you, not with those dark glasses, he told himself, as he tried to puzzle out his scientific problem.
And then she smiled at him.
His heart did a crazy flip-flop. He told himself it wasn’t the smile that rattled him, although even from here it was a killer smile. It was that she sensed him watching. Such instincts made his scientific mind wary, he thought as he turned his mind back to his old problem.
And hoped he hadn’t just acquired a new one.
One of These Nights
Justine Davis
JUSTINE DAVIS
A former policewoman, Justine says that years ago, a young man she worked with encouraged her to try for a promotion to a position that was, at that time, occupied only by men. “I succeeded, became wrapped up in my new job and that man moved away, never, I thought, to be heard from again. Ten years later he appeared out of the woods of Washington State, saying he’d never forgetten me and would I please marry him. With that history, how could I write anything but romance?”
Once upon a time, there was a genre of books that was sadly misunderstood by anyone who didn’t read them. Those who did read them loved them, cherished them, were changed by them. But still, these books got no respect on the outside. In fact, these books were belittled, denigrated, held up as bad examples, while their readers and authors were sneered at and insulted by people who, although they never read the books, had somehow arrived at the idea that it was all right to slap others down for their choices. But those readers and authors kept on in the face of this horrible prejudice. Why? Because they found something in these books that they found nowhere else. Something precious, which spoke to them in a very deep and basic way.
Then one day, this beleaguered genre was given a gift. A fairy godmother, if you will, a person with an incredible knowledge of these books and why they worked, and an even more incredible generosity of spirit. A one-person support system who gave so much to the writers of these stories, and was ever unselfish with her time and that amazing knowledge. And her endorsement counted for something; readers took her word and knew they would rarely be disappointed. She was a rock, a pillar on which the genre depended. Her loss has left a gaping hole that can never be filled, and will always be felt by those who love these books—and loved her.
For those reasons and so many more, the Redstone, Incorporated series is dedicated to
MELINDA HELFER
Lost to us August 24, 2000,
but if heaven is what it should be, she’s in an endless library, with an eternity to revel in the books she loved.
Happy reading, my friend….
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 1
“Hey, Professor, you’ve been ordered to the boss’s office right away.”
Ian Gamble swore that if one more person called him Professor, he was going to ruin his image and punch whoever said it.
At least they aren’t saying the absentminded part, he told himself.
But it didn’t help much when he knew they were thinking it. He was not absentminded, nor was he a professor. What he was was an inventor, and that, as he’d told them all more than once, should be enough of a job title. It had been enough for Joshua Redstone, after all. He’d hired Ian when nobody else would. Josh hadn’t cared about a piece of paper with the name of some college on it.
“Did you hear me?”
Ian gave his high-energy, and occasionally wearing, assistant a sideways look. The young college student was bright and had a lot of potential, but she was also in a very big hurry to receive the kind of acknowledgment she thought she already deserved. Even Stan Chilton, the easygoing head of this safety-oriented section of Redstone’s research and development division, admitted he sometimes found her tiring.
“Were you speaking to me?”
Rebecca Hollings let out an audible, put-upon sigh as she pushed a lock of rather dull brown hair out of her eyes. “Yes, sir.”
“Mr. Redstone ordered me to his office? That’s unusual.” He watched her steadily until she gave in sheepishly.
“Well, I guess what he really said was he needed to talk to you.”
That was more like it. Most of the time if Josh needed a face-to-face with someone in his own headquarters building, he went to them. Summoning the peons to the tower wasn’t his style. Besides, as he’d told Ian once, he wasn’t one to pass up any chance to get out of his office.
“But he did say soon,” she added. “And he was headed for his office.”
“Then he didn’t stay long,” Ian said as a movement at the doors to the research and development lab caught his eye. A split second later Joshua Redstone poked his head in the door.
Rebecca blushed and turned away. Ian supposed he should go easier on her. She worked hard, often late into the night. And she went out of her way to help him, even brought him sandwiches when he forgot to eat. It was just his own nature that made him feel she was hovering too much.
“Ian? Take a walk with me?” Josh said in that easy drawl that made it painless to follow what from another man in his position would have been an order.
Ian nodded at Josh, hit the keys to blank the screen he’d been working with, signed out and locked the system, then got up and headed for the doors. Without a backward glance at his assistant.
They walked in silence until they reached the end of the hall and the huge bay window that looked out on the courtyard. The building that was the main headquarters of Redstone, Incorporated, was built around a cool green garden with a big pond and waterfall. In the heat of a California summer, it was a favorite spot for all the employees, and this window alcove lined with comfortable chairs was Ian’s favorite retreat when he needed to get out of the bustle of the lab. He wasn’t surprised that Josh remembered that. Redstone people got used to that kind of thing after a while.
“How’s it going?” Josh asked as he folded his lanky frame into a chair. The laziness of his drawl, an odd combination of all the places he’d drifted through during formative years, didn’t fool Ian one bit.
“Backing up a bit after the last results,”