Tidewater Lover (2 page)

Lacey hesitated. "I suppose…I could."

As she ran the idea over in her mind, it sounded like the perfect plan. A vacation spent in luxurious surroundings with the ocean and beach at her doorstep. It was something she wouldn't have been able to afford at twice her salary.

"I just knew you'd help me out!" Margo exclaimed.

"It will be my pleasure," Lacey returned sincerely, already picturing lazy days in the sun. Maybe she would even splurge on a new swimsuit.

"There is one thing," Margo paused. "I told you we were leaving tomorrow. Well, I just hate the thought of the house being empty for an hour. Could you…would you stay here tomorrow night?"

Breathing in deeply, Lacey wondered if her cousin knew what she was asking. Commuting from Virginia Beach to Newport News during rush hour traffic would practically mean rising with the sun. But tomorrow was Thursday. If she could arrange to have Saturday morning off, it would mean only having to make the round trip once.

"Sure," Lacey agreed finally. "I'll pack and drive out after work tomorrow."

"I'll be eternally grateful for this," Margo vowed effusively. "Now there's plenty of food, et cetera, in the house and I'll leave the front door key in the flowerpot near the door."

"Okay."

"You just make yourself at home, Lacey. Listen, I really have to run—I still have oodles of packing to do. See you when we get back from the Caribbean. Bye!"

"Bye." But Lacey's response was given to the dial tone buzzing in her ear.

Shrugging, she replaced the receiver on its cradle. It was typical of Margo. Once her objective was achieved she lost interest. But Lacey didn't bear any grudge. Thanks to Margo, her two weeks' vacation had suddenly taken on a new perspective.

Of course, she still had to talk to Mike Bowman, her employer, about Saturday morning. Straightening from the desk, Lacey walked to the twin set of metal cabinets in her office and deposited the folders on top. As she opened a drawer to begin the filing, the door to her office opened and Mike Bowman, who was one of the chief engineers for the construction company, walked in.

"Hello, Lacey," he greeted her absently, frowning as he paused beside her desk to go through the stack of messages waiting for him.

Brushing aside the sleek brown hair that curved across one side of her forehead, Lacey studied him for an instant. Mike was in his late thirties, a peppering of gray showing up in his dark hair; a confirmed bachelor—so he claimed.

Even with her limited experience, Lacey knew she could search a long time and never find an easier person to work for, nor one more fun on a date. They had dated occasionally in the last few months, although neither had spread the fact around to the others in the office. Mike was good-looking in a strong, dependable kind of way.

"Judging by your expression, I won't ask how your meeting went," Lacey offered with a sympathetic gleam in her brown eyes.

"Please don't." The corners of his mouth were pulled grimly down. "It was an exercise in frustration trying to explain to the big bosses the combination of circumstances that's put the Whitfield project so far behind schedule. Sometimes I think if they'd get out of their offices and out on the job sites, they might get a better understanding of what I'm up against."

"Maybe you should have suggested that," Lacey smiled.

"No, it's not their job." Mike sighed heavily in resignation. "They don't want to hear excuses, they want solutions. And they're right. I have to start coming up with solutions before the problems I have create more problems in and of themselves."

"Speaking of problems, I don't know if you remember or not, but my vacation starts next week."

"Don't remind me of that," Mike grimaced. "I don't want to remember it until Monday morning."

"Sorry, but I was hoping you might give me Saturday morning off." There was a flash off even white teeth as Lacey smiled sympathetically.

"Why? I thought you said you weren't going anywhere on your vacation." He frowned, his hazel eyes confused as he met her gaze.

"My plans have changed slightly," she acknowledged. "My cousin called to ask me
if I'd stay at her house in Virginia Beach while she and her husband are away on an impromptu vacation. They leave tomorrow, which means I'll move in tomorrow night. I'll have to commute on Friday—and Saturday, as well, unless you let me have the day off."

"Why not?" Mike shrugged.

"Thanks. I'll work late for you Friday to make up for it," Lacey promised.

"You'd better get out of this madhouse at five on the dot Friday or I might change my mind and postpone your vacation," he declared in a mock threat. "Then your cousin or whoever it was would have to find some other house-sitter. By the way, who's
going to take your place here?"

"Donna is." Lacey knew the reaction that announcement would produce. Donna was not one of Mike's favorite people.

There was a skeptical glint in his eye at the name of Lacey's replacement. "You'd better leave the address and phone number of your cousin's house with Jane, just in case 'dumb Donna' gets things all loused up here or discovers she can't find something. Where did you say you'd be? Virginia Beach?"

"Yes. The house is right on the ocean. And so help me, Mike, if you call me to work on my vacation, I'll—" Lacey never got a chance to finish her warning vow.

"On the beach, you say? Hell," he chuckled, "I just might take my vacation and join you. It sounds like paradise. You know what the travel brochures say—Virginia is for lovers. Maybe we should both take the next two weeks to prove they're right. I could stand to get away from the office myself." Both of them knew he was only dreaming. There wasn't a chance of Mike's having any time off.

"If you aren't doing anything Sunday, why don't you come over?" she suggested, knowing it was wishful thinking Mike was indulging in, but extending the invitation as consolation.

"It's a date," Mike replied without any hesitation, settling for a day instead of two weeks. "I'll bring a couple of steaks and we'll cook outside."

"Terrific," Lacey agreed.

The interoffice line rang and Lacey walked to her desk to answer it. Jane, the receptionist, responded immediately, "Didn't I see Mr. Bowman come in, Lacey?"

"Yes."

"Good. Mr. Whitfield is on line one. He's called a half a dozen times." She didn't bother to add that by this time Mr. Whitfield was a very impatient man. The tone of her voice was riddled with the statement.

"Thanks, Jane." Lacey replaced the receiver and glanced hesitantly at Mike. "Whitfield is on line one," she informed him.

He bared his teeth in a grimace. "I've just been through one frustrating series of explanations. See if you can use that soothing voice of yours and put him off for a while."

Sitting down in her chair, Lacey accepted the challenge. After all, in a sense it was part of her job to shield Mike from unwanted phone calls. Mike stood expectantly beside her desk, watching her intently as she picked up the phone and pushed the button for the first line.

"Mr. Bowman's office. May I help you?" she inquired in her most pleasant manner.

"Yes," came the crisp male voice. "I would like to speak to Mr. Bowman."

It was a command, not a request, and Lacey could tell the difference. Still she persisted. "I'm terribly sorry, but Mr. Bowman is on another line at the moment. May I take a message, please?"

"He's on another line, is he?" There was no mistaking the sarcastic skepticism in the response.

"Yes. May I have him call you back when he's through?" Lacey offered.

"No, you may not!" the voice snapped in her ear. She flinched slightly at the coldly raised voice and held the receiver away from her ear. "No doubt Bowman is standing beside you to see if you're going to succeed in stalling me off. But I assure you, miss, that you will."

Whether it was the accuracy of his accusation or her temper reacting to his acid tone, Lacey didn't know, but she abandoned her attempt to be pleasant, resorting to the sarcasm he had used.

"I assure you, Mr. Whitfield, that Mr. Bowman is on another line. However, since your call seems to be so urgent that you feel the necessity to be rude, I shall see if I can interrupt him. Please hold the line." Without giving him a chance to respond, she pushed the hold button, shutting him off. Fiery lights burned in her brown eyes as she glanced at Mike, anger in the tight-lipped line of her mouth.

"I'm sorry I asked you to speak to him, Lacey," Mike said immediately. "I'll take the call in my office."

"I wish you could tell him to go take a flying leap into a dry lake," she fumed.

"Believe me, it's a temptation," he sighed. "But it is his time and money I'm spending every day that project falls further behind schedule. He has a right to know what's going on."

"He doesn't have any right to be such a…a…"

"Careful," Mike warned with a teasing wink. "Ladies aren't supposed to use the word you're searching for!"

"I don't feel very much like a lady at this moment," Lacey muttered, glaring at the blinking light that indicated that Mr. Whitfield was still holding.

"Just think about the two weeks you're going to spend away from all this," Mike suggested in an attempt to calm her anger as he started toward his private office.

As quickly as her temper had flared, it died. "And I'll occasionally spend a moment or two feeling sorry for you back at the office slogging away while I bask on the sand," laughed Lacey.

Minutes after Mike had entered his office, the light stopped blinking and held steady. Lacey felt sorry for him. Considering the vituperative mood Whitfield was in, it wouldn't be easy for Mike to explain about the new delays on Whitfield's construction project. He was in for a tongue-lashing, but she knew
Mike would handle the unpleasant situation in his usual calm way.

With a sigh, Lacey walked back to the metal cabinets to resume her filing of the folders she had placed on top. The door to her office opened. Lacey glanced over her shoulder and smiled as she recognized the girl who had entered.

"Hi, Maryann," she greeted the girl who was one of her best friends. "What are you doing?" It was purely a rhetorical question.

"I am escaping," Maryann Carver declared and sank into the spare, straight-backed chair at Lacey's desk. She had the air of a person who had been pushed to the limit. "A word of advice, Lacey. Don't ever take a job as a payroll clerk. No, two words of advice," she corrected herself. "Don't ever put off going to the dentist."

"Is your tooth bothering you again?" Lacey sympathized.

"Yes. Have you got any aspirin for a suffering fool? I forgot to bring any with me this morning and this tooth is killing me." Maryann combed her fingers through hair that couldn't make up its mind whether it was brown or blond.

"I think there is a bottle of aspirin in the middle drawer of my desk. Help yourself." Lacey slipped a folder into its proper place in the file. "You really should see a dentist."

"I am, at four this afternoon. All I have to do is survive till then." The desk drawer was opened and pills rattled in their plastic bottle. "He's only going to fix this one tooth. I have to go back in a couple of weeks for a regular checkup. You know, that's one good thing about mothers. They always make sure you have your regular checkups when you live at home. Of course, I'll never tell my mother there are advantages to living at home. She'd have me back in my old room before I could say no."

"So would my mother." Lacey closed the file drawer and returned to her desk, that task finished.

"Hey, I just remembered!" With pills in her hand, Maryann paused on her way to the water cooler. "You start your vacation on Monday. Are you still planning to visit your parents in Richmond?"

"Just for a weekend. My cousin Margo called a few minutes ago. She's going off on a cruise with her husband and asked me to stay in their beach house while they are away."

"Beach house? How lucky can you get? Are you staying there by yourself? Or would you like a roommate?"

"But that roommate—" Lacey knew Maryann was suggesting herself "—would have to commute back and forth to work every day."

Maryann grimaced. "You only brought that up because you want the place to yourself."

Lacey smiled away the remark. "It's certainly going to be a better vacation than I had planned. Imagine, two weeks with the ocean at my doorstep and an uncrowded beach." Each time she thought about it, it sounded more idyllic. As she set the bottle of aspirin back into the middle drawer, Lacey noticed the light had gone off on the first line of the telephone. "Poor Mike. I wonder if he needs an aspirin."

"Why should he? Don't tell me he has a toothache, too?" Maryann filled a paper cup with water and downed the aspirin in her hand.

"No, but I bet he has a headache." Lacey motioned toward the telephone. "He just finished talking to the sarcastic Mr. Whitfield. That man is the cause of many a headache."

"Who is Mr. Whitfield?"

"A very rude and obnoxious person. Doubly so because the complex we're building for him is way behind schedule. He's a real pain. I wish Mike would punch him in the mouth some day. After the job is done, of course," she added.