by
Diane Maxwell
Manuscript Complete / 200,000 words / Contemporary Romance
Copyright 2001 All rights reserved to the author
No copying in any form electronically or by any given means without the expressed written consent of the author
Chapter 7
"Mac."
"Mic?"
"Yeah. I have some work for you. If you're interested."
"You know I am. It's not like there's anything else to occupy my time these days. So. What's up? Need a background on a new flame?"
"No." Michael raked a hand through his hair. "A complete on Rose M. Anderson. Got that?"
"Yeah. Rose M. Anderson. Complete, ehh? Serious?"
"You bet. There's something very strange about her. I intend to find out exactly what before she ruins my reputation as an architect." He sank onto the bed with a slight groan. Three steaming showers hadn't really helped. Slamming full force upon hard pine floors twice in two nights definitely couldn't be any worse than having four or five three hundred pound men come stampeding toward you on a football field.
Even if he had landed on the softest thing he'd ever felt.
"This the decorator you mentioned to Devon when y'all talked before you flew down there?"
Michael sighed as he rotated his stiff, aching shoulders. "That son of yours never keeps anything to himself, does he?"
"Not about you. First time either of us have known the famed St. Lawrence charm and magnetism to fail with a woman. You usually have 'em falling by the road in droves two seconds after you pass. If it takes that long. Lost your touch, have you?"
Michael grinned, though doing so tugged at the scratch on his face and made it flame. "Don't hold your breath. I haven't given up yet."
"Didn't think for a minute you would. Got to stick to the plan at all times, isn't that a fact?"
"That's a fact. While you're at it, get the low down on Ms. Anderson's aunt. Name's Maye. Same last name. No middle initial. Lives in Aberdeen. Know where that is?"
"I've heard of it. And I know how to use a map."
"But can you fold one?"
"Can you?"
He silently conceded the point. "Get back to me soon as possible with anything you find out. And I do mean anything. No matter how small."
"Personal, too?"
"Of course."
A low whistle proceeded the next words. "Sounds serious to me."
"No one messes with my reputation. No one."
"I heartily second that." Silence, followed by, "I'll do my best, Mic. Call me tomorrow. Same time. I'll give you what I've dug up then."
"Thanks. I owe you one."
Michael replaced the phone in its cradle and tried to summon the energy to take another long, hot shower.
He fell asleep with visions of Rose in his arms instead.