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 11
Michael cursed silently. He watched her straight-as-a-level back disappear. Good God above.
She was driving him crazy. Physically. Mentally. What more did she want? His blood?
He shook his head and walked out the front door. His fingers idly touched the scratches nicking his face and neck. Someone had already drawn that.
But he'd be damned if anyone else would be hurt on one of his projects.
As his feet moved to his rented car, they scattered wet dead leaves along the dirt turned to mud driveway. He made a note to check on the company bringing new gravel and got into his car.
He dialed a number on his cell phone, waited for an answer then asked, "Well, Mac? What have you got?"
"You owe me seven cigars."
"Thought you were trying to cut back."
"I am. These were ruined in hot pursuit of your requests. I figure you should pay for them."
Michael ran a hand through his hair. "Put ten on my bill."
"And Devon says you can be a real pain in the butt. I'll have to talk to him. Anyway, both your Rose and her aunt are clean as birds in a birdbath. Not so much as a parking ticket. Well loved, well respected. Model citizens. Descended from Aberdeen's original founders. All that."
"But?"
"Know me pretty well, don't you?"
"That's why I pay you so much."
"Oh, by the way, she double majored. History's her other degree. American history, primarily antebellum South."
Which explained why she believed she knew so much more than he did about Huntington House, Michael thought wryly. She probably did. "What else?"
"She was a brilliant student. First in her history classes. Second in interior design. 4.0 average."
Michael picked up on that, as Mac no doubt meant for him to. "She had a 4.0 grade point average yet she graduated second? Why?"
"There was a student ahead of her."
"No sh--" Michael caught himself as Mac began to laugh. "Ok, I fell for that one. Now what's the deal?"
"This other student was male. They were both hired by Richards, after graduation. You recognize that name, don't you? That firm you used to own."
Michael gritted his teeth. Did she know this? Good God, no wonder she didn't trust him. "The same firm that fired her then blacklisted her."
"Right. There was some sort of dispute on your Rose's first project. Something about stolen designs and the restoration of the Governor's mansion. All very hush-hush. Apparently your Rose demanded an apology and acknowledgement of credit for ideas she claimed were hers. Led to a near court battle and a huge stink."
"Yeah." Michael wiped a hand over his face. He remembered that part. It had gotten quite ugly, especially for Rose.
Insane jealousy clawed his gut as he spat the words out. "Was this man, this male who graduated ahead of her, the same one she was involved with? The one who claimed she only wanted credit for his ideas because he broke off their relationship?"
"You still have to pay me whether you think you know all the answers or not."
"I'm aware of that."
"Then yes to both. Why? You jealous?"