|
Steal His Heart
Daisy Manning has been testing security by shoplifting in Worthingtons Department store for five months. Not once in that entire time has she been caught by security personnel. Until today.
Kent Whitaker is disgusted by the beautiful thief he’s caught red-handed, and even more disgusted by his attraction to her. While he won’t allow himself to become romantically involved with a thief, he can certainly help out a friend by curing his daughter of bad habits. They both fight their growing attraction, Kent because dishonesty is the one trait he cannot tolerate, and Daisy because Kent is directly interfering with her long-range career goals. But when an unskilled matchmaker tries his hand at getting them together, the unexpected happens to them both as Kent gets distracted and Daisy steals his heart! |
Chapter One
“Excuse me, Miss, but you’ll have to come with me.”
The hand gripping her elbow, combined with the low Texas drawl had Daisy Manning looking up. Way up. At five-ten, and in high-heels, it wasn’t something that happened often. Her gaze collided with the arctic-cold one of the most impossibly handsome man she’d ever seen.
The heat from his hand penetrated her cardigan as she continued to stare. She couldn’t help it. His black cowboy hat didn’t hide the startling blue of his eyes, their curly lashes, the deeply tanned skin of his face and throat, or his almost black hair where it curled at the collar. She’d guess mid-thirties. His looks, combined with his height, muscular physique and the deep voice still echoing in her ears had her catching her breath. Wow.
She blinked, then gave her head a shake. What was she doing gawking at a time like this? Get with the program, Daisy! Forcing her gaze away, she swallowed, and tried to think over the sudden racing of her heart. What should she do?
She glanced around the upper floor of the department store, but there was no help in sight. Her gaze darted to the mall entrance, but the tight grip on her elbow prevented her from simply ignoring him and walking right out of the store. Turning back, she opened her eyes wide and gave him her best smile. She’d simply have to brazen it out. “Mister, I believe you’ve made a mistake.”
His eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe I have.” He gestured toward the escalator. “If you’ll just step this way?”
She tightened her grip on the handles of her shopping bag, pulled her purse tight against her body, and glanced around the store again. Well, shoot. She could always cause a ruckus. She gazed up at him once more, then swallowed. No. He didn’t look the sort to be fazed by a scene, loud or otherwise. She’d have to talk her way out.
She continued to smile. “Sweetie, I’d love to stay and chat, but my grandmother’s waiting and I have to go.” She batted her long lashes at the man for good measure, felt her ears start to burn at the lie, and tried to pull away. His grip tightened, and she faked a wince. “Ow!” So much for her eyelash technique.
One of his brows rose, but he did loosen his grip. “I saw you put a scarf in your shopping bag. A scarf you didn’t pay for. Now if y’all will just come with me, I’m sure we can get this straightened out.”
Her eyes widened. He didn’t know; not for sure anyway. The scarf was in her purse, not her shopping bag. There was no way she was going anywhere with him if he hadn’t actually witnessed her stealing. Why should she spoil a perfect record if she didn’t have to? Daisy glanced around once more. A few women stood nearby, taking everything in. Well, double shoot. Good thing she didn’t embarrass easily.
She ran through her list of options. Maybe she could fake a seizure, then run when he went for help? Her muscles tightened and, as she prepared to throw herself to the ground, she met his cynical gaze and stilled. Somehow he didn’t look the type to fall for it. He’d probably just stand there while she flopped around on the floor and she could easily see him applauding the performance.
She sighed, her shoulders drooping slightly. Oh well, sometimes a big part of this job was knowing when you were caught. She watched him smile at her slight capitulation and her spine tightened and her jaw thrust forward. On the other hand, no self-respecting Texas woman ever went down without a fight.
She planted her free hand on her hip. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now if y’all will excuse me?” Daisy tried to jerk her arm away, her eyes never leaving his. Nothing doing. His hand on her arm felt like a steel clamp, only warm. Almost hot.
Startled, she realized the heat was sensual. She was attracted to the man! When was the last time that had happened? She couldn’t remember. And attracted to a guy in security? How her father would laugh at that! She shook her head. Get a grip on yourself Daisy! So the guy’s handsome; remember where you are and what you’re doing! Think. Think.
She could always use that move she’d learned in self-defense class. A heel to the instep, an elbow to the groin, twist her arm free, then make a run for it. A quick glance at his lean body and she immediately changed her mind. Besides being mean, it probably wouldn’t work anyway. His body was as gorgeous as his face, and in fantastic shape. She was in good condition too, but wouldn’t want to bet on her chances of outrunning him; especially in heels.
“Come on.” He started walking, and Daisy deliberately stumbled as he led her onto the escalator. He held her up, not saying a word as they descended. At the bottom they continued toward the back of Worthingtons Department Store and toward the offices.
She did a quick scan of the store as they walked through the women’s department. Her gaze skimmed past shoppers, past the perfume counter and narrowed in on the exit to the mall. If she wanted to get out of this, she needed to think of something fast.
She sucked in a breath. “Mister, if you don’t let go of me, I’ll scream, really loud.”
“Go right ahead. It won’t stop you from going to the manager’s office.”
She tried to tug her elbow out of his grasp. “How do I know you’re taking me to the manager’s office? You could be some kind of sick perverted deviant trying to drag me right on out of the store.”
His mouth tilted slightly, and he almost smiled before his lips sealed into a tight line once more. “Since we’re not anywhere near an exit, I’d say it’s not a problem, is it?”
He had a point. They were almost to the offices in the back now. She glanced up at the rugged face above her own, and her brows drew together. Begging was last on her list of ways to wheedle out of this situation. Not because of pride or anything, but because she didn’t think it would work. But hey, it was worth a shot.
“Let go of me. Please, you’re hurting my arm.” She tried to tug her elbow from his grasp. “I really don’t want to go anywhere with you. You’re scaring me.” Daisy felt his hand on her arm relax and wondered if it would work, after all. She looked up at him and tried to force tears into her eyes. Think sad thoughts, sad thoughts, sad thoughts. Yes, tears!
The man studied her face, then shook his head. “Oh, you’re good, lady. But you’re still coming with me.” They were almost to a door marked, manager’s office and Daisy dug in her heels, pulling them both to a stop.
“Please don’t do this to me,” Daisy whispered, trying to look as pathetic as possible. She felt pathetic. She didn’t want to get caught. It could ruin everything.
The man paused at the door and looked down at her with something like regret, and for a moment she thought he was going to let her go. Then he sighed, shook his head in obvious disgust, and opened the door.
***
“Excuse me, Mr. Larsen, but we have a problem here.” Kent Whitaker felt he was pretty successful at keeping the sarcasm out of his voice as he parroted the code words. Or, maybe not. But he was just so sick of having to be careful about how he worded everything. If he had his way he’d just shout out loud ‘hey everyone, look over here, I just caught this lady shoplifting.’ But no. Rules and regulations stated how everything must be handled. Including the proper wording for a potential arrest. It was ridiculous.
He’d bet a lot less shoplifting would take place if security could publicly humiliate the thieves. Especially women like this one: classy clothes, nice jewelry, perfect make-up. And the lady, although slim, wasn’t exactly starving to death either. She had all her curves right where they needed to be. Long, shiny, dark hair, light green eyes and creamy skin caught his attention. Heck, the lady could be a model if she wanted. She could earn an honest living; probably did earn an honest living. She just didn’t want to spend it on things she could pick up for free. People like her made him sick.
His jaw clenched hard, and he acknowledged he was angrier with her than most shoplifters. Because of the attraction he felt? Or because when he’d looked into her eyes, for just a split second, he’d wanted to let her go?
Disgust welled up inside him and his teeth clenched. Did he want to end up like his dad? There was no way he’d ever let that happen. She even reminded him of Lisa. Beautiful, calm, never frazzled; and a thief. He hated thieves, and wouldn’t repeat his father’s mistakes.
He glanced down and acknowledged that she wasn’t exactly like Lisa. She certainly seemed frazzled; almost desperate even. Good. He’d bet the money paid in fines and some jail time would keep her from trying anything like this again.
She turned a beseeching gaze on him once more, and his stomach muscles tightened. Lord, she was pretty. His resolve hardened to granite. Beautiful women thought they could get away with anything. But, not this time. This lady needed a lesson, and Kent would be glad to teach it to her.
“Come in. Please, do come in.”
Mr. Larsen’s precise English accent brought Kent up short. He needed to keep his mind on the job. Mr. Larsen waved them into the office and Kent walked the lady inside and noticed the manager’s eyes widen in...amusement?
Did he think Kent was bringing someone to meet him? Maybe he’d already forgotten the we have a problem code he’d instigated for shoplifters. It wouldn’t surprise Kent. Mr. Larsen had been acting very strange lately with all his new rules and regulations where security was concerned. Kent had just about had enough of someone looking over his shoulder all the time.
Still, the shoplifting reports Mr. Larsen wrote were insightful, and many of his ideas had panned out. Kent couldn’t argue with statistics; shoplifting was down, which was the only reason Kent tolerated the older man’s interference.
The woman jerked her arm slightly, but he still had a firm grip on her, and he nudged her toward the plush, leather seat facing the desk. She jerked her arm once more and this time Kent let her go.
He heard her take a deep breath, and before he could say anything she rushed into speech. “Are you the manager?” She clutched her purse and shopping bag tight against her body, threw a frightened glance over her shoulder, then faced Mr. Larsen once more.
Kent’s eyes narrowed. What was she playing at?
At the manager’s nod she continued. “Thank goodness. You’re just the person I was hoping to find.” She glanced at Kent once more, and he settled himself against the door and crossed his arms. This ought to be good.
“This man assaulted me and dragged me in here. I was worried about what might happen.” She tossed him another nervous glance. “I’ve heard of people being dragged right out of the mall and never heard from again. I was terrified.” She rubbed her arm.
Kent blew out a derisive breath. Another actress; and not a very good one. He shook his head and looked over at Mr. Larsen with raised brows.
Mr. Larsen was...nodding sympathetically? He turned his head. “Kent? What’s going on?”
Kent pushed his body off the wall and glared at the woman. “What’s going on is that I just caught this lady shoplifting. I saw her steal a scarf.”
“What!” Her head jerked up and she faced him indignantly. “You did not!”
“Look lady, I saw you take it.”
“You saw me? With your eyes?” Still clutching her purse and bag tightly, she sank down onto the chair and looked away from him. “I don’t think so.”
Her snooty tone grated on his nerves. What happened to the damsel in distress routine? Kent took a few steps closer and stood over her chair. “Lady, when you went up the escalator you had it over your arm. When you got to the top, you didn’t have it anymore.” He didn’t mention that the only reason he’d even noticed was because he’d been ogling her figure. Remembering his inability to look away made him angry all over again.
She looked up at him and her eyes narrowed to slits. She crossed her legs, settling her things on her lap. “So what you’re saying is you think I took it, but you didn’t see me take anything.” She looked over the desk at the manager, her voice wavering, “I swear I’m not a thief. If the gentleman would just go and check the little table beside the escalator, I’m sure he’ll see it sitting right there. I must have laid it down before I went up.”
Kent took a deep breath and deliberately unclenched his jaw. “There isn’t a table by the escalator.”
“Are you sure?”
Mr. Larsen leaned back in his chair and gave Kent a concerned look. “Kent, do you have a witness to this?”
Kent’s head reared up and he pierced Mr. Larsen with a hard gaze. “Do I need a witness?” he asked softly.
Mr Larsen averted his gaze. “No, my apologies, of course not.”
Kent leaned forward. “I know she has it on her.”
Mr. Larsen sighed, steepled his fingers together, and looked at them both. He pursed his lips and met the woman’s gaze across the desk, then quickly averted his own. Kent eyed him closely. Was he trying not to laugh? Mr. Larsen sighed once more then pinned Kent with a serious expression and Kent realized he was mistaken.
“Did you get this incident on camera?”
Kent took a deep breath and slowly expelled it. “No.” That particular area wasn’t captured on film, but he wasn’t about to admit that in front of a shoplifter.
He watched once more as Mr. Larsen met the woman’s gaze, a strange expression passing over his face. Kent narrowed his eyes. Something was going on, and he’d had enough. He locked his gaze on the lady’s face. “If you don’t have the scarf, then you won’t mind opening your purse.”
She clutched her purse and shopping bag tighter. “Are you married?”
He raised an eyebrow, then crossed his arms. Was she hitting on him? He shook his head once.
“No? Big surprise. Well, let me tell you something about women. A woman’s purse is very private. I don’t even let my close personal friends root around in there, let alone some gorilla I don’t even know.”
Kent hadn’t realized until now that it was possible to look down your nose at someone while remaining seated. “Fine. If you don’t want to start with your purse, then let’s have a look in your shopping bag.”
She looked at him for a moment, a hint of vulnerability on her face, then glanced to the manager and back. “He can look,” she nodded towards Mr. Larsen, “but you can’t.” She stood and carefully handed her shopping bag across the desk, then resumed her seat.
Kent watched impatiently, but settled against the door. Mr. Larsen peered into the shopping bag and Kent caught himself leaning forward a bit. Mr. Larsen saw the movement, closed the bag, raised a brow and waited until he leaned back. Kent watched a moment longer, then reared off the door.
“This is stupid!” He glared at the bag and debated on the wisdom of taking it from the man who was essentially his boss.
Apparently, the woman was a mind reader, because she stood and blocked his path. “Too bad. The manager can see but I’m not showing you a thing.”
Kent sucked in a deep breath, inhaled her soft floral fragrance, and clenched his teeth. There was probably nothing to see anyway. If she was letting the manager look, Kent doubted the scarf was in there. But where had she put it?
The shrill ringing of a cellular phone bleated from within the large, double-handled purse she clutched to her stomach. All three of them stared at the purse and for a moment no one moved.
Kent raised a brow. “Aren’t you going to answer that?”
“I have caller I.D. I’ll call back later.”
Crossing his arms again, Kent smiled. “No, you go ahead and answer it. We can wait.”
She shook her head and the ringing stopped.
Kent glared at the purse. The scarf was in there. “I’m going to have to insist you open your purse.”
Mr. Larsen leaned forward. “Now, Kent. I’m sure that’s not necessary.”
Kent turned an incredulous gaze onto Mr. Larsen. “What are you talking about? It’s standard procedure.”
The lady interrupted. “It’s all right.” She nodded to Mr. Larsen. “He can look, but you can’t.”
Kent fumed as she passed the purse over. Mr. Larsen opened it, glanced inside, then shut it.
“Everything looks just as it should.”
The lady rubbed one arm as if she were cold, and Kent’s attention settled on her cardigan. If it wasn’t in her purse, maybe it was in one of her pockets. “Did I hurt your arm?”
She stilled for a moment, looked at him suspiciously, then rubbed her arm. The opposite of the one he’d held. “I’ll probably have a bruise.”
“Really?” He knew darn good and well he hadn’t hurt her. He tried to look consoling as her reached for her sweater. “Sorry if I held your arm too tightly. Here, let me hold your sweater for you while you assess the damage.”
Her hand stilled, her eyes narrowed, and she dropped her hand. “No, it’s all right. I’m sure it’s fine.”
“I insist. If I hurt your arm I want to know about it.”
“No, it’s feeling better already, see?” She moved her bent arm around in a circular motion, elbow up, then stepped back and sat in the chair again.
“An amazing recovery,” he said dryly.
“I’m a fast healer.”
“Hmm.” Definitely in one of the pockets. “I’m going to have to insist you empty your sweater pockets.” He leaned against the wall once more. He knew the drill. He couldn’t look, just Mr. Larsen.
She passed her sweater to Mr. Larsen who examined the contents of the pockets, then stood and helped her into her sweater. He handed her the purse and shopping bag. “Everything checks out.”
“Thank you. May I go now?”
Mr. Larsen cleared his throat. “Ah, if it’s all right, I’d like to talk to you for just a moment. Kent, if you’ll excuse us?”
Kent stared. Was Mr. Larsen serious? He wanted Kent to leave?
“Do you want me to call the police?”
“No, no need for that. Obviously there’s just been a misunderstanding here.”
Kent stared at the manager for a moment longer then pushed off the wall and left the room with a disgusted shake of his head. He closed the door with a snap.
This was bull. Granted, things had been strange lately, but this was the first time he hadn’t been allowed to do his job.
She’d lifted the scarf; and probably some other things as well. He knew it. And what was with Mr. Larsen acting so odd?
Kent remembered the punch of attraction he’d felt in his gut when he’d held her elbow. Heck, when he’d first seen her. Was the manager interested in her? He must be in his mid-sixties and a widower, to boot. Old enough to be her father, and then some. Not that age mattered when a woman wanted something. Kent, more than anyone, should know that.
His fist clenched. He should be the one telling Mr. Larsen to leave the room so he could take care of things. He should be calling in a female police officer to do a search. He should--
Kent shook his head in disgust and headed for the security office. Maybe it was time to drop the Worthingtons account. Time for a change. Things were certainly changing around here lately. For the worse.
***
She was such an idiot! Frozen to her chair, Daisy listened to the muted ticking of the wall clock and held her breath. Eyes wide, she stared across the desk at Mr. Larsen, who seemed equally incapable of movement and she acknowledged her error. She’d forced Mr. Larsen to lie for her. Mr. Larsen. Staid, British, stiff upper lip, death before dishonor, very aware of his dignity, Mr. Larsen.
She closed her eyes. Why did she have to get caught? When her chest tightened painfully, she finally took a breath. She’d lost her job. She knew it. Would he fire her now? Or wait until he’d had a chance to think about it? Perhaps he’d just send her a letter. After her failure, it was all she deserved. She opened her eyes to study him, but couldn’t read him. Of course she couldn’t! No one could. He was a sweet, kind, elderly man. But private; not the sort to place himself in embarrassing situations. He was her ticket to her goal, and now she’d ruined everything!
Shifting in her chair, she watched him anxiously. Why wouldn’t he say anything? She couldn’t stand it. Taking a deep breath, she forced a smile and leaned forward. “I think he wanted to stay.”
Daisy cringed inwardly. Open mouth, insert foot. Crossways. Just point out and underline the fact that you forced him to do something inappropriate where security is concerned.
Mr. Larsen took a pristine white handkerchief out of his left jacket pocket, patted his brow, his upper lip, then let out a sigh. “He is probably wondering about my sanity right about now.”
Daisy’s smile faded and she couldn’t think of anything else to say. She watched as Mr. Larsen settled himself against his chair, cleared his throat, and seemed to come out of his shock. He actually smiled. “What did you think of your first run in with security?”
Her breath caught. First? Did that mean she still had a job? Her fingers clenched together on her lap. “It was a meeting I could have done without. I had no idea he was watching me. I never even saw him coming.”
“He’s good at his job.” Mr. Larsen crossed his legs, then smoothed a crease from his perfectly tailored slacks. “Actually I think this is the first time you’ve both worked on the same day. Now what will you do? He’ll recognize you next time.”
“Next time?” Daisy swallowed, then decided to take the bull by the horns. “Does that mean I still have a job?”
Mr. Larsen looked surprised. “Of course you do, my dear. I think it’s working out very well. We’ve had a decrease in shoplifting since you started here. Your reports and ideas have been very helpful.”
Well, shoot. Her nose started to burn from an onset of tears, and Daisy bent her head with a jerk, willing the moisture back and wishing her father felt the same way about her abilities.
This job, and the respect for her ideas, had become very important. Without it she wouldn’t be able to reach her ultimate goal. The tears subsided to be replaced with an overwhelming relief. Getting fired would have undermined what she was trying to prove to her father.
“You know, this was bound to happen.” Mr. Larsen’s voice was soft as he seemed to realize her distress. “You’ve worked here for over five months without ever getting caught. It was inevitable, don’t you think?”
Daisy didn’t want to think so. But under the circumstances didn’t have a choice. In control once more, she looked up. “So, we’re good for the next month?”
Mr. Larsen nodded. “Definitely. I’d like to stick to the plan you have mapped out. We still have at least eight areas in the store needing to be analyzed.”
“And, what about--” Daisy realized she didn’t know the security guard’s last name. “Kent?”
“I’ll take care of Kent.” The words were confident, but he sounded uncertain. Daisy didn’t blame him. Kent didn’t seem the type to be taken lightly.
Mr. Larsen shrugged. “Besides, it’s only for another month. I can put him off that long. Then I’ll explain everything.” His lips lifted in a slight smile. “So, unless security realizes it’s your job to test them, I want to continue.”
Daisy nodded and relief flooded through her. She leaned back into her chair with a sigh. “I thought I knew what everyone in security looked like.”
Mr. Larsen grinned at her disgruntled tone. “Kent Whitaker owns the security firm we hire, so he isn’t in here on a regular basis.”
“He owns it?” Surprise had her tilting her head to the side. “Isn’t he a little young?”
Mr. Larsen nodded. “He’s worked very hard to get where he is. Actually, you and he work quite closely together. Those reports you turn in with your anti-shoplifting suggestions eventually end up on his desk.”
“Really?” She suddenly felt too warm in her cardigan. “What does he think of them?”
“To tell the truth, he’s loved your ideas. It’s a bit of an embarrassment taking the credit though.”
“You have to. If you didn’t, this wouldn’t work.” Her brows pulled together. “So, if he’s the owner of the security firm, what was he doing working tonight?”
“He likes to keep his hand in. Every once in a while he shows up.”
“So he doesn’t work here often?”
Mr. Larsen shook his head. “Rarely. He’s got an office near downtown Houston.”
Daisy let out a breath and the rest of the tension drained out of her. That was very good news. So why did part of her feel strangely disappointed? She didn’t want any further contact with him. Right? Remembering the instant attraction she’d felt, she immediately tried to push the thought aside. She didn’t have time for romantic entanglements.
She needed to concentrate on getting her career in security started. Needed to prove to her dad that she had what it took and deserved to take her rightful place within the family firm--no matter what her gender. The last thing she needed was a boyfriend around, reminding her father of potential grandchildren.
Mr. Larsen cleared his throat. “So, from what I could tell, today’s theme is beachwear?”
Daisy smiled, feeling more herself again. She still had her job, and this was the fun part. She nodded. “Yes. The new summer line just came out. I’m guessing it’s going to be very popular with shoplifters.”
She started pulling pilfered loot from her shopping bag, purse, and pockets. Laying everything out on the desk, she looked at the merchandise with pride. Sun screen, after sun lotion, a swimsuit, a beach wrap, a gold anklet, even a small umbrella. Last of all, she pulled the scarf out of her purse with a flourish.
Mr. Larsen lifted a brow. “Ah yes, the infamous scarf.”
Daisy grinned. “And one more thing.” She pulled a pair of sunglasses off the top of her head, price tag dangling. She grinned. “He missed something.”
Mr. Larsen’s eyes widened. They both knew if he’d seen the glasses it could have been bad, and the near miss had them both laughing. The shared laughter cleared away the last of Daisy’s misgivings. They were back on track. Getting caught hadn’t changed a thing.
Daisy closed her purse, gathered up the shopping bag that now only contained the towels she brought with her to weigh down the bag and smiled at Mr. Larsen. “Well even if it was bound to happen sometime, I hate that he just ruined my perfect record.” She shrugged. “I’ll write up my report and bring it in.”
“Thank you, Daisy.”
Daisy nodded, walked across the room, opened the door, then turned back. “Are we still on for Thursday afternoon?”
Mr. Larsen nodded. “Of course.”
Daisy bobbed her head once, smiled, and left.
***
Paul Larsen watched the door close behind Daisy, then turned his gaze to the merchandise on his desk, smiled and shook his head.
Daisy Manning. If he’d known what he was getting into when he’d hired her, he wouldn’t have been so reluctant to do so. Not only was it turning out to be very productive, but fun as well. His smile faded. Fun was something he didn’t have enough of lately.
He raised his head to gaze at the picture of his wife, grinning at him from the frame on his desk. She’d been born and raised in Texas and he’d ended up here because it was her home. Longing for her rushed through him. Five years, and he missed her still. How she would have laughed at Daisy’s shenanigans. The Manning girls had always been favorites of hers.
Of course Daisy’s father wouldn’t laugh. Richard would be furious. But Paul didn’t let that bother him. Not too much anyway. If he could handle Kent, then he could also handle Richard when the time came. When the truth came out in a month or so, all would be forgiven. Besides, as his wife used to say, in for a penny, in for a pound.
When Daisy had first come to him with her plan to help reduce theft in his store by shoplifting, then reporting methods to increase security, his first reaction had been derision. He hadn’t believed it would work. But she’d pleaded with him, and it had tickled his sense of humor, that she, looking like an angel, had asked for a job shoplifting. Ha. And darned if she wasn’t good at it too. But still, he hadn’t thought it would ever come to anything. He’d been mistaken. Daisy had written up her first report, given valid and innovative suggestions for beefing up security, and proven him wrong. Shoplifters were being caught, or intimidated into ditching merchandise with increasing frequency.
Paul laughed again as he thought of the look of pique on her face when Kent had marched her into the office.
Was it his imagination, or had sparks been in the air? It was too bad he couldn’t introduce them to each other. Both of them were young entrepreneurs and they probably had a lot in common. They’d certainly looked great together and would make a very handsome couple. If only there were some way to throw them together.
He shook his head at his thoughts. At sixty-four he’d never played matchmaker in his life. If his wife were still alive, she’d laugh herself silly. Then egg him on, of course.
He tried to push the idea aside, but his mind continued to race. He felt energized. Invigorated. Perhaps Daisy’s circumstances had been a little too easy lately? After all, a bit of a challenge never hurt anyone. Looking at the picture of his wife, Paul smiled.
Hmm. He did schedule Daisy to work when he was there. And he could call Kent and ask him specifically to come in at the same time. His smile widened. That wasn’t matchmaking. It was entertainment.
The hand gripping her elbow, combined with the low Texas drawl had Daisy Manning looking up. Way up. At five-ten, and in high-heels, it wasn’t something that happened often. Her gaze collided with the arctic-cold one of the most impossibly handsome man she’d ever seen.
The heat from his hand penetrated her cardigan as she continued to stare. She couldn’t help it. His black cowboy hat didn’t hide the startling blue of his eyes, their curly lashes, the deeply tanned skin of his face and throat, or his almost black hair where it curled at the collar. She’d guess mid-thirties. His looks, combined with his height, muscular physique and the deep voice still echoing in her ears had her catching her breath. Wow.
She blinked, then gave her head a shake. What was she doing gawking at a time like this? Get with the program, Daisy! Forcing her gaze away, she swallowed, and tried to think over the sudden racing of her heart. What should she do?
She glanced around the upper floor of the department store, but there was no help in sight. Her gaze darted to the mall entrance, but the tight grip on her elbow prevented her from simply ignoring him and walking right out of the store. Turning back, she opened her eyes wide and gave him her best smile. She’d simply have to brazen it out. “Mister, I believe you’ve made a mistake.”
His eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe I have.” He gestured toward the escalator. “If you’ll just step this way?”
She tightened her grip on the handles of her shopping bag, pulled her purse tight against her body, and glanced around the store again. Well, shoot. She could always cause a ruckus. She gazed up at him once more, then swallowed. No. He didn’t look the sort to be fazed by a scene, loud or otherwise. She’d have to talk her way out.
She continued to smile. “Sweetie, I’d love to stay and chat, but my grandmother’s waiting and I have to go.” She batted her long lashes at the man for good measure, felt her ears start to burn at the lie, and tried to pull away. His grip tightened, and she faked a wince. “Ow!” So much for her eyelash technique.
One of his brows rose, but he did loosen his grip. “I saw you put a scarf in your shopping bag. A scarf you didn’t pay for. Now if y’all will just come with me, I’m sure we can get this straightened out.”
Her eyes widened. He didn’t know; not for sure anyway. The scarf was in her purse, not her shopping bag. There was no way she was going anywhere with him if he hadn’t actually witnessed her stealing. Why should she spoil a perfect record if she didn’t have to? Daisy glanced around once more. A few women stood nearby, taking everything in. Well, double shoot. Good thing she didn’t embarrass easily.
She ran through her list of options. Maybe she could fake a seizure, then run when he went for help? Her muscles tightened and, as she prepared to throw herself to the ground, she met his cynical gaze and stilled. Somehow he didn’t look the type to fall for it. He’d probably just stand there while she flopped around on the floor and she could easily see him applauding the performance.
She sighed, her shoulders drooping slightly. Oh well, sometimes a big part of this job was knowing when you were caught. She watched him smile at her slight capitulation and her spine tightened and her jaw thrust forward. On the other hand, no self-respecting Texas woman ever went down without a fight.
She planted her free hand on her hip. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now if y’all will excuse me?” Daisy tried to jerk her arm away, her eyes never leaving his. Nothing doing. His hand on her arm felt like a steel clamp, only warm. Almost hot.
Startled, she realized the heat was sensual. She was attracted to the man! When was the last time that had happened? She couldn’t remember. And attracted to a guy in security? How her father would laugh at that! She shook her head. Get a grip on yourself Daisy! So the guy’s handsome; remember where you are and what you’re doing! Think. Think.
She could always use that move she’d learned in self-defense class. A heel to the instep, an elbow to the groin, twist her arm free, then make a run for it. A quick glance at his lean body and she immediately changed her mind. Besides being mean, it probably wouldn’t work anyway. His body was as gorgeous as his face, and in fantastic shape. She was in good condition too, but wouldn’t want to bet on her chances of outrunning him; especially in heels.
“Come on.” He started walking, and Daisy deliberately stumbled as he led her onto the escalator. He held her up, not saying a word as they descended. At the bottom they continued toward the back of Worthingtons Department Store and toward the offices.
She did a quick scan of the store as they walked through the women’s department. Her gaze skimmed past shoppers, past the perfume counter and narrowed in on the exit to the mall. If she wanted to get out of this, she needed to think of something fast.
She sucked in a breath. “Mister, if you don’t let go of me, I’ll scream, really loud.”
“Go right ahead. It won’t stop you from going to the manager’s office.”
She tried to tug her elbow out of his grasp. “How do I know you’re taking me to the manager’s office? You could be some kind of sick perverted deviant trying to drag me right on out of the store.”
His mouth tilted slightly, and he almost smiled before his lips sealed into a tight line once more. “Since we’re not anywhere near an exit, I’d say it’s not a problem, is it?”
He had a point. They were almost to the offices in the back now. She glanced up at the rugged face above her own, and her brows drew together. Begging was last on her list of ways to wheedle out of this situation. Not because of pride or anything, but because she didn’t think it would work. But hey, it was worth a shot.
“Let go of me. Please, you’re hurting my arm.” She tried to tug her elbow from his grasp. “I really don’t want to go anywhere with you. You’re scaring me.” Daisy felt his hand on her arm relax and wondered if it would work, after all. She looked up at him and tried to force tears into her eyes. Think sad thoughts, sad thoughts, sad thoughts. Yes, tears!
The man studied her face, then shook his head. “Oh, you’re good, lady. But you’re still coming with me.” They were almost to a door marked, manager’s office and Daisy dug in her heels, pulling them both to a stop.
“Please don’t do this to me,” Daisy whispered, trying to look as pathetic as possible. She felt pathetic. She didn’t want to get caught. It could ruin everything.
The man paused at the door and looked down at her with something like regret, and for a moment she thought he was going to let her go. Then he sighed, shook his head in obvious disgust, and opened the door.
***
“Excuse me, Mr. Larsen, but we have a problem here.” Kent Whitaker felt he was pretty successful at keeping the sarcasm out of his voice as he parroted the code words. Or, maybe not. But he was just so sick of having to be careful about how he worded everything. If he had his way he’d just shout out loud ‘hey everyone, look over here, I just caught this lady shoplifting.’ But no. Rules and regulations stated how everything must be handled. Including the proper wording for a potential arrest. It was ridiculous.
He’d bet a lot less shoplifting would take place if security could publicly humiliate the thieves. Especially women like this one: classy clothes, nice jewelry, perfect make-up. And the lady, although slim, wasn’t exactly starving to death either. She had all her curves right where they needed to be. Long, shiny, dark hair, light green eyes and creamy skin caught his attention. Heck, the lady could be a model if she wanted. She could earn an honest living; probably did earn an honest living. She just didn’t want to spend it on things she could pick up for free. People like her made him sick.
His jaw clenched hard, and he acknowledged he was angrier with her than most shoplifters. Because of the attraction he felt? Or because when he’d looked into her eyes, for just a split second, he’d wanted to let her go?
Disgust welled up inside him and his teeth clenched. Did he want to end up like his dad? There was no way he’d ever let that happen. She even reminded him of Lisa. Beautiful, calm, never frazzled; and a thief. He hated thieves, and wouldn’t repeat his father’s mistakes.
He glanced down and acknowledged that she wasn’t exactly like Lisa. She certainly seemed frazzled; almost desperate even. Good. He’d bet the money paid in fines and some jail time would keep her from trying anything like this again.
She turned a beseeching gaze on him once more, and his stomach muscles tightened. Lord, she was pretty. His resolve hardened to granite. Beautiful women thought they could get away with anything. But, not this time. This lady needed a lesson, and Kent would be glad to teach it to her.
“Come in. Please, do come in.”
Mr. Larsen’s precise English accent brought Kent up short. He needed to keep his mind on the job. Mr. Larsen waved them into the office and Kent walked the lady inside and noticed the manager’s eyes widen in...amusement?
Did he think Kent was bringing someone to meet him? Maybe he’d already forgotten the we have a problem code he’d instigated for shoplifters. It wouldn’t surprise Kent. Mr. Larsen had been acting very strange lately with all his new rules and regulations where security was concerned. Kent had just about had enough of someone looking over his shoulder all the time.
Still, the shoplifting reports Mr. Larsen wrote were insightful, and many of his ideas had panned out. Kent couldn’t argue with statistics; shoplifting was down, which was the only reason Kent tolerated the older man’s interference.
The woman jerked her arm slightly, but he still had a firm grip on her, and he nudged her toward the plush, leather seat facing the desk. She jerked her arm once more and this time Kent let her go.
He heard her take a deep breath, and before he could say anything she rushed into speech. “Are you the manager?” She clutched her purse and shopping bag tight against her body, threw a frightened glance over her shoulder, then faced Mr. Larsen once more.
Kent’s eyes narrowed. What was she playing at?
At the manager’s nod she continued. “Thank goodness. You’re just the person I was hoping to find.” She glanced at Kent once more, and he settled himself against the door and crossed his arms. This ought to be good.
“This man assaulted me and dragged me in here. I was worried about what might happen.” She tossed him another nervous glance. “I’ve heard of people being dragged right out of the mall and never heard from again. I was terrified.” She rubbed her arm.
Kent blew out a derisive breath. Another actress; and not a very good one. He shook his head and looked over at Mr. Larsen with raised brows.
Mr. Larsen was...nodding sympathetically? He turned his head. “Kent? What’s going on?”
Kent pushed his body off the wall and glared at the woman. “What’s going on is that I just caught this lady shoplifting. I saw her steal a scarf.”
“What!” Her head jerked up and she faced him indignantly. “You did not!”
“Look lady, I saw you take it.”
“You saw me? With your eyes?” Still clutching her purse and bag tightly, she sank down onto the chair and looked away from him. “I don’t think so.”
Her snooty tone grated on his nerves. What happened to the damsel in distress routine? Kent took a few steps closer and stood over her chair. “Lady, when you went up the escalator you had it over your arm. When you got to the top, you didn’t have it anymore.” He didn’t mention that the only reason he’d even noticed was because he’d been ogling her figure. Remembering his inability to look away made him angry all over again.
She looked up at him and her eyes narrowed to slits. She crossed her legs, settling her things on her lap. “So what you’re saying is you think I took it, but you didn’t see me take anything.” She looked over the desk at the manager, her voice wavering, “I swear I’m not a thief. If the gentleman would just go and check the little table beside the escalator, I’m sure he’ll see it sitting right there. I must have laid it down before I went up.”
Kent took a deep breath and deliberately unclenched his jaw. “There isn’t a table by the escalator.”
“Are you sure?”
Mr. Larsen leaned back in his chair and gave Kent a concerned look. “Kent, do you have a witness to this?”
Kent’s head reared up and he pierced Mr. Larsen with a hard gaze. “Do I need a witness?” he asked softly.
Mr Larsen averted his gaze. “No, my apologies, of course not.”
Kent leaned forward. “I know she has it on her.”
Mr. Larsen sighed, steepled his fingers together, and looked at them both. He pursed his lips and met the woman’s gaze across the desk, then quickly averted his own. Kent eyed him closely. Was he trying not to laugh? Mr. Larsen sighed once more then pinned Kent with a serious expression and Kent realized he was mistaken.
“Did you get this incident on camera?”
Kent took a deep breath and slowly expelled it. “No.” That particular area wasn’t captured on film, but he wasn’t about to admit that in front of a shoplifter.
He watched once more as Mr. Larsen met the woman’s gaze, a strange expression passing over his face. Kent narrowed his eyes. Something was going on, and he’d had enough. He locked his gaze on the lady’s face. “If you don’t have the scarf, then you won’t mind opening your purse.”
She clutched her purse and shopping bag tighter. “Are you married?”
He raised an eyebrow, then crossed his arms. Was she hitting on him? He shook his head once.
“No? Big surprise. Well, let me tell you something about women. A woman’s purse is very private. I don’t even let my close personal friends root around in there, let alone some gorilla I don’t even know.”
Kent hadn’t realized until now that it was possible to look down your nose at someone while remaining seated. “Fine. If you don’t want to start with your purse, then let’s have a look in your shopping bag.”
She looked at him for a moment, a hint of vulnerability on her face, then glanced to the manager and back. “He can look,” she nodded towards Mr. Larsen, “but you can’t.” She stood and carefully handed her shopping bag across the desk, then resumed her seat.
Kent watched impatiently, but settled against the door. Mr. Larsen peered into the shopping bag and Kent caught himself leaning forward a bit. Mr. Larsen saw the movement, closed the bag, raised a brow and waited until he leaned back. Kent watched a moment longer, then reared off the door.
“This is stupid!” He glared at the bag and debated on the wisdom of taking it from the man who was essentially his boss.
Apparently, the woman was a mind reader, because she stood and blocked his path. “Too bad. The manager can see but I’m not showing you a thing.”
Kent sucked in a deep breath, inhaled her soft floral fragrance, and clenched his teeth. There was probably nothing to see anyway. If she was letting the manager look, Kent doubted the scarf was in there. But where had she put it?
The shrill ringing of a cellular phone bleated from within the large, double-handled purse she clutched to her stomach. All three of them stared at the purse and for a moment no one moved.
Kent raised a brow. “Aren’t you going to answer that?”
“I have caller I.D. I’ll call back later.”
Crossing his arms again, Kent smiled. “No, you go ahead and answer it. We can wait.”
She shook her head and the ringing stopped.
Kent glared at the purse. The scarf was in there. “I’m going to have to insist you open your purse.”
Mr. Larsen leaned forward. “Now, Kent. I’m sure that’s not necessary.”
Kent turned an incredulous gaze onto Mr. Larsen. “What are you talking about? It’s standard procedure.”
The lady interrupted. “It’s all right.” She nodded to Mr. Larsen. “He can look, but you can’t.”
Kent fumed as she passed the purse over. Mr. Larsen opened it, glanced inside, then shut it.
“Everything looks just as it should.”
The lady rubbed one arm as if she were cold, and Kent’s attention settled on her cardigan. If it wasn’t in her purse, maybe it was in one of her pockets. “Did I hurt your arm?”
She stilled for a moment, looked at him suspiciously, then rubbed her arm. The opposite of the one he’d held. “I’ll probably have a bruise.”
“Really?” He knew darn good and well he hadn’t hurt her. He tried to look consoling as her reached for her sweater. “Sorry if I held your arm too tightly. Here, let me hold your sweater for you while you assess the damage.”
Her hand stilled, her eyes narrowed, and she dropped her hand. “No, it’s all right. I’m sure it’s fine.”
“I insist. If I hurt your arm I want to know about it.”
“No, it’s feeling better already, see?” She moved her bent arm around in a circular motion, elbow up, then stepped back and sat in the chair again.
“An amazing recovery,” he said dryly.
“I’m a fast healer.”
“Hmm.” Definitely in one of the pockets. “I’m going to have to insist you empty your sweater pockets.” He leaned against the wall once more. He knew the drill. He couldn’t look, just Mr. Larsen.
She passed her sweater to Mr. Larsen who examined the contents of the pockets, then stood and helped her into her sweater. He handed her the purse and shopping bag. “Everything checks out.”
“Thank you. May I go now?”
Mr. Larsen cleared his throat. “Ah, if it’s all right, I’d like to talk to you for just a moment. Kent, if you’ll excuse us?”
Kent stared. Was Mr. Larsen serious? He wanted Kent to leave?
“Do you want me to call the police?”
“No, no need for that. Obviously there’s just been a misunderstanding here.”
Kent stared at the manager for a moment longer then pushed off the wall and left the room with a disgusted shake of his head. He closed the door with a snap.
This was bull. Granted, things had been strange lately, but this was the first time he hadn’t been allowed to do his job.
She’d lifted the scarf; and probably some other things as well. He knew it. And what was with Mr. Larsen acting so odd?
Kent remembered the punch of attraction he’d felt in his gut when he’d held her elbow. Heck, when he’d first seen her. Was the manager interested in her? He must be in his mid-sixties and a widower, to boot. Old enough to be her father, and then some. Not that age mattered when a woman wanted something. Kent, more than anyone, should know that.
His fist clenched. He should be the one telling Mr. Larsen to leave the room so he could take care of things. He should be calling in a female police officer to do a search. He should--
Kent shook his head in disgust and headed for the security office. Maybe it was time to drop the Worthingtons account. Time for a change. Things were certainly changing around here lately. For the worse.
***
She was such an idiot! Frozen to her chair, Daisy listened to the muted ticking of the wall clock and held her breath. Eyes wide, she stared across the desk at Mr. Larsen, who seemed equally incapable of movement and she acknowledged her error. She’d forced Mr. Larsen to lie for her. Mr. Larsen. Staid, British, stiff upper lip, death before dishonor, very aware of his dignity, Mr. Larsen.
She closed her eyes. Why did she have to get caught? When her chest tightened painfully, she finally took a breath. She’d lost her job. She knew it. Would he fire her now? Or wait until he’d had a chance to think about it? Perhaps he’d just send her a letter. After her failure, it was all she deserved. She opened her eyes to study him, but couldn’t read him. Of course she couldn’t! No one could. He was a sweet, kind, elderly man. But private; not the sort to place himself in embarrassing situations. He was her ticket to her goal, and now she’d ruined everything!
Shifting in her chair, she watched him anxiously. Why wouldn’t he say anything? She couldn’t stand it. Taking a deep breath, she forced a smile and leaned forward. “I think he wanted to stay.”
Daisy cringed inwardly. Open mouth, insert foot. Crossways. Just point out and underline the fact that you forced him to do something inappropriate where security is concerned.
Mr. Larsen took a pristine white handkerchief out of his left jacket pocket, patted his brow, his upper lip, then let out a sigh. “He is probably wondering about my sanity right about now.”
Daisy’s smile faded and she couldn’t think of anything else to say. She watched as Mr. Larsen settled himself against his chair, cleared his throat, and seemed to come out of his shock. He actually smiled. “What did you think of your first run in with security?”
Her breath caught. First? Did that mean she still had a job? Her fingers clenched together on her lap. “It was a meeting I could have done without. I had no idea he was watching me. I never even saw him coming.”
“He’s good at his job.” Mr. Larsen crossed his legs, then smoothed a crease from his perfectly tailored slacks. “Actually I think this is the first time you’ve both worked on the same day. Now what will you do? He’ll recognize you next time.”
“Next time?” Daisy swallowed, then decided to take the bull by the horns. “Does that mean I still have a job?”
Mr. Larsen looked surprised. “Of course you do, my dear. I think it’s working out very well. We’ve had a decrease in shoplifting since you started here. Your reports and ideas have been very helpful.”
Well, shoot. Her nose started to burn from an onset of tears, and Daisy bent her head with a jerk, willing the moisture back and wishing her father felt the same way about her abilities.
This job, and the respect for her ideas, had become very important. Without it she wouldn’t be able to reach her ultimate goal. The tears subsided to be replaced with an overwhelming relief. Getting fired would have undermined what she was trying to prove to her father.
“You know, this was bound to happen.” Mr. Larsen’s voice was soft as he seemed to realize her distress. “You’ve worked here for over five months without ever getting caught. It was inevitable, don’t you think?”
Daisy didn’t want to think so. But under the circumstances didn’t have a choice. In control once more, she looked up. “So, we’re good for the next month?”
Mr. Larsen nodded. “Definitely. I’d like to stick to the plan you have mapped out. We still have at least eight areas in the store needing to be analyzed.”
“And, what about--” Daisy realized she didn’t know the security guard’s last name. “Kent?”
“I’ll take care of Kent.” The words were confident, but he sounded uncertain. Daisy didn’t blame him. Kent didn’t seem the type to be taken lightly.
Mr. Larsen shrugged. “Besides, it’s only for another month. I can put him off that long. Then I’ll explain everything.” His lips lifted in a slight smile. “So, unless security realizes it’s your job to test them, I want to continue.”
Daisy nodded and relief flooded through her. She leaned back into her chair with a sigh. “I thought I knew what everyone in security looked like.”
Mr. Larsen grinned at her disgruntled tone. “Kent Whitaker owns the security firm we hire, so he isn’t in here on a regular basis.”
“He owns it?” Surprise had her tilting her head to the side. “Isn’t he a little young?”
Mr. Larsen nodded. “He’s worked very hard to get where he is. Actually, you and he work quite closely together. Those reports you turn in with your anti-shoplifting suggestions eventually end up on his desk.”
“Really?” She suddenly felt too warm in her cardigan. “What does he think of them?”
“To tell the truth, he’s loved your ideas. It’s a bit of an embarrassment taking the credit though.”
“You have to. If you didn’t, this wouldn’t work.” Her brows pulled together. “So, if he’s the owner of the security firm, what was he doing working tonight?”
“He likes to keep his hand in. Every once in a while he shows up.”
“So he doesn’t work here often?”
Mr. Larsen shook his head. “Rarely. He’s got an office near downtown Houston.”
Daisy let out a breath and the rest of the tension drained out of her. That was very good news. So why did part of her feel strangely disappointed? She didn’t want any further contact with him. Right? Remembering the instant attraction she’d felt, she immediately tried to push the thought aside. She didn’t have time for romantic entanglements.
She needed to concentrate on getting her career in security started. Needed to prove to her dad that she had what it took and deserved to take her rightful place within the family firm--no matter what her gender. The last thing she needed was a boyfriend around, reminding her father of potential grandchildren.
Mr. Larsen cleared his throat. “So, from what I could tell, today’s theme is beachwear?”
Daisy smiled, feeling more herself again. She still had her job, and this was the fun part. She nodded. “Yes. The new summer line just came out. I’m guessing it’s going to be very popular with shoplifters.”
She started pulling pilfered loot from her shopping bag, purse, and pockets. Laying everything out on the desk, she looked at the merchandise with pride. Sun screen, after sun lotion, a swimsuit, a beach wrap, a gold anklet, even a small umbrella. Last of all, she pulled the scarf out of her purse with a flourish.
Mr. Larsen lifted a brow. “Ah yes, the infamous scarf.”
Daisy grinned. “And one more thing.” She pulled a pair of sunglasses off the top of her head, price tag dangling. She grinned. “He missed something.”
Mr. Larsen’s eyes widened. They both knew if he’d seen the glasses it could have been bad, and the near miss had them both laughing. The shared laughter cleared away the last of Daisy’s misgivings. They were back on track. Getting caught hadn’t changed a thing.
Daisy closed her purse, gathered up the shopping bag that now only contained the towels she brought with her to weigh down the bag and smiled at Mr. Larsen. “Well even if it was bound to happen sometime, I hate that he just ruined my perfect record.” She shrugged. “I’ll write up my report and bring it in.”
“Thank you, Daisy.”
Daisy nodded, walked across the room, opened the door, then turned back. “Are we still on for Thursday afternoon?”
Mr. Larsen nodded. “Of course.”
Daisy bobbed her head once, smiled, and left.
***
Paul Larsen watched the door close behind Daisy, then turned his gaze to the merchandise on his desk, smiled and shook his head.
Daisy Manning. If he’d known what he was getting into when he’d hired her, he wouldn’t have been so reluctant to do so. Not only was it turning out to be very productive, but fun as well. His smile faded. Fun was something he didn’t have enough of lately.
He raised his head to gaze at the picture of his wife, grinning at him from the frame on his desk. She’d been born and raised in Texas and he’d ended up here because it was her home. Longing for her rushed through him. Five years, and he missed her still. How she would have laughed at Daisy’s shenanigans. The Manning girls had always been favorites of hers.
Of course Daisy’s father wouldn’t laugh. Richard would be furious. But Paul didn’t let that bother him. Not too much anyway. If he could handle Kent, then he could also handle Richard when the time came. When the truth came out in a month or so, all would be forgiven. Besides, as his wife used to say, in for a penny, in for a pound.
When Daisy had first come to him with her plan to help reduce theft in his store by shoplifting, then reporting methods to increase security, his first reaction had been derision. He hadn’t believed it would work. But she’d pleaded with him, and it had tickled his sense of humor, that she, looking like an angel, had asked for a job shoplifting. Ha. And darned if she wasn’t good at it too. But still, he hadn’t thought it would ever come to anything. He’d been mistaken. Daisy had written up her first report, given valid and innovative suggestions for beefing up security, and proven him wrong. Shoplifters were being caught, or intimidated into ditching merchandise with increasing frequency.
Paul laughed again as he thought of the look of pique on her face when Kent had marched her into the office.
Was it his imagination, or had sparks been in the air? It was too bad he couldn’t introduce them to each other. Both of them were young entrepreneurs and they probably had a lot in common. They’d certainly looked great together and would make a very handsome couple. If only there were some way to throw them together.
He shook his head at his thoughts. At sixty-four he’d never played matchmaker in his life. If his wife were still alive, she’d laugh herself silly. Then egg him on, of course.
He tried to push the idea aside, but his mind continued to race. He felt energized. Invigorated. Perhaps Daisy’s circumstances had been a little too easy lately? After all, a bit of a challenge never hurt anyone. Looking at the picture of his wife, Paul smiled.
Hmm. He did schedule Daisy to work when he was there. And he could call Kent and ask him specifically to come in at the same time. His smile widened. That wasn’t matchmaking. It was entertainment.
