Trust Me on This - Jennifer Crusie [2]
It had been a great job, he thought now with some regret. He’d set his own hours and annoyed the hell out of self-important people who cheated little old ladies for a living. And then, just when he was becoming so well-known that it was getting difficult to convince cons to sell him chewing gum let alone phantom real estate, Harry had plucked him out of the field to work on his pet project, the Federal Fraud Database. It was important work and Alec was dedicated to it, but he missed the thrill of the hunt. He was solidifying behind a computer, turning into Harry Chase before his time. He needed to break out again, pit his wits against somebody agile and evil just one more time before he went back to being Harry’s computer heir apparent forever.
And that’s how long he was going to be heir apparent because Harry was never going to retire. Alec examined that thought, a little surprised at the impatience behind it. He liked Harry. More than that, he respected him and was grateful to him. Harry had done a hell of a lot for him, pushed him for promotion, made sure he was in the right places at the right times, attached him to the new database project. He was Harry’s protégé and damn lucky to be so.
He just missed running his own show.
Maybe that was why he missed the field. He didn’t miss the endless hotels and the bad food and the lousy people and the lying. He missed calling the shots.
Well, maybe Bond would show up in Riverbend and he’d get to call the shots one more time. He went back to the thrill of pitting his wits again. If the someone agile and evil he was pitting against was also female, attractive, and immoral, so much the better. He’d been working too hard and dating too little. “I need a furlough, Harry,” Alec said, and Harry snorted.
“Dream on,” he said. “Go baby-sit your aunt. But call me if Bond turns up. I’ll need to put it in the computer. And let me know if he’s working with that woman too. And get her name. We need the data.”
“She’s a brunette,” Alec said to no one in particular. “I wouldn’t mind being seduced by a brunette.” He looked down at the fax again. “I could use three glorious nights too. Hell, I’d settle for one glorious night.”
Harry snorted again, and Alec ignored him and went back to fantasizing about succumbing to a dark-haired con woman in the line of duty three weeks from Thursday.
Two weeks later and two states away, Dennie Banks shoved her dark curls back from her face so she could glare at her editor unimpeded. “It’s just three nights, a week from now, Taylor,” she told him as he frowned over the “Four Fabulous Days” announcement card. “It’s my weekend. I just need next Friday off.”
“What if something happens on Friday?” Taylor’s weaselly little eyes squinted up at her.
“Like what? An emergency wedding?” Dennie tried to keep the exasperation out of her voice. “I write for lifestyles and the women’s page. There is no late-breaking news on the women’s page.”
“You never know,” Taylor said portentously, and Dennie knew there was absolutely no thought behind the statement. It was Taylor’s version of “because I said so.” Most of the time, Taylor’s brain-deadness did not bother her; in fact, it was one of the reasons she’d stayed working for him for twelve years. She knew Taylor, she could handle Taylor, so she stayed with Taylor.
Lately, though, that sameness bothered her, and the bother made her voice firmer than usual. “I’m flying out next Thursday, Taylor. You won’t need me.”
“All right, Banks,” he growled. “But if anything happens, you better get your tail back here.”
“You bet,” Dennie said, and left the office annoyed and unsettled. She plopped into her desk chair and leaned back, and then her annoyance evaporated and she smiled