She smiled. “Are you telling me Santa doesn’t deliver all those presents via flying reindeer on Christmas Eve?”
“We give him a little help. Don’t let it get around.”
“So, what I’m hearing is I’m here at an optimal time to do this without garnering a lot of notice or getting much in the way?”
“That was the idea. How do you want to get started?”
“Let’s take a look at the documents they’ve requested.” She took a laptop out of her messenger bag, placed it on the desk, and fired it up. Then she produced a couple folders and handed one across the desk to him. Just as he was about to get his head in the game, she slid a small, red, oblong case from her bag, snapped it open like a clamshell, and took out a pair of glasses. Not just glasses, he realized as she slipped them on. Librarian glasses, with glossy black rectangular frames. So prim. So fastidious. So damn sexy.
“You wear glasses.” Congratulations, Shanahan, you have an excellent grasp of the obvious.
She looked at him. “Just for reading.”
And for sex, his dirty mind added. Please wear them if…correction…when we have sex.
“Stare at documents and a computer screen as much as I do, eye strain is an occupational hazard.”
The more time he spent staring at her in those glasses, the more likely cock strain would become his occupational hazard. Seeking a distraction, he opened the file. The title on the first page read, “Due Diligence Requests,” centered above a tabular listing of documents and other materials printed over paper watermarked “Confidential.” Page one was followed by…fucking A…four more pages.
He scanned the requests. Current business structure, ownership interests, any and all mortgages, liens, notes or warrants. All assets of the business, including real estate, vehicles, equipment, “tangible and intangible intellectual property”—whatever the hell that meant. All accident reports for the last five years. His stomach clenched painfully. He kept his eyes moving. Details regarding all employees and other staff, compensation, benefits. Financials, taxes, etc., etc., etc.
Apparently, his silence spoke volumes because Izzy placed a hand on his forearm. “It’s fairly extensive, but—”
“Extensive?” He blinked up at her. “I think my head’s going to explode.”
She patted his arm. “That’s why I’m here. It’s my job to make sure your head doesn’t explode.”
“Good luck, Izzy. I’m pretty sure my brain’s leaking out my ear as we speak.”
“Hey, it may look like we’re in your office, but we’re in my wheelhouse. I do this kind of thing all the time—for transactions a lot more complicated that what Skyline has proposed. So, here’s the deal. We gather what we can and provide it. We note what doesn’t apply, doesn’t exist, or otherwise can’t be furnished. If you object to something because it’s too burdensome, or you feel it’s irrelevant to the deal, we’ll talk about it and craft a response.”
Okay. All right. That sounded reasonable. His initial, kneejerk moment of panic subsided—until another realization struck. “This is going to take a long time. You’re going to be crawling through files and boxes. What are we going to tell people?”
She eased out of her parka and pushed up the sleeves of her roomy, off-white sweater, then drew a pen from her bag. “Like any good significant other, I volunteered to help you get your files in order.”
“Wow.” He sat back in his chair, ignoring the habitual squeak, and stared at her. “Is that what good significant others do?”
She shrugged and started making notes in the margins of her copy of the list. “Some do. I think. I’ve never really had a good significant other before, so I can’t swear to it, but I can tell you my mom does stuff like that for my dad all the time.”
Oddly enough, it seemed plausible. Nobody around the airfield would accuse him of being particularly well-organized when it came to paperwork. Better than Bridget. Better than…others. But not great. Encouraged, he rested his chin in his hand and aimed an innocent look at her. “Hey, Izzy?”
“Yes?”
He waited until she met his gaze, then blinked and looked at her from beneath his lashes. “What else do good significant others do?”
She laughed. “I’m afraid I’ll have to leave that to you to figure out for yourself when you have one.”
Chapter Nine
“Did you get my surprise, Izzy?”
She jammed her cell phone to her ear and put the finishing touches on another line of data entry. “Danny, the whole freaking airfield got your surprise.”
“Damn, girl. You work quick.”
“No. Not ‘got it’ in that way. I mean, everyone saw it.” She hit save and sat back in Trace’s huge desk chair. It squeaked in protest and rocked precipitously, stealing her breath and leaving her momentarily flailing at the prospect of it giving way and dumping her to the floor. When it reached the approximate angle of recline for a shampoo chair something in the workings caught and held. She cautiously released her death grip on the armrests and eased the chair upright until her toes touched the floor.
Jesus.
She missed her calmly colorful, light-drenched office at Hecker, Hiltz & Reynolds, with her ergonomic desk setup and her view of Century City’s high rises.
“They searched your luggage upon arrival?” Danny’s confused voice pulled her back to the present.
“No.” Briefly, she summarized the fiasco of her trunk malfunction, and Danny’s “surprise” landing at Trace’s feet while Mad Dog and Wing looked on.
Her friend and coworker displayed zero remorse. “So, what I’m hearing is that within seconds of landing in Captivity, you were surrounded by a buffet of bear daddies. You are welcome. Which one are you going to share my surprise with? Or which one first?” he quickly revised. “I don’t mean to limit you in any way.”
“Well, none, as it turns out.” In a highly edited retelling, she explained how the whole town currently believed she was in Captivity as Trace’s girlfriend.
“Wait. Wait. Wait. Are you telling me that within seconds of arriving in Captivity, you attained actual, lip-to-lip contact with a single, eligible, heterosexual male of the human species?”
Two lip-locks, strictly speaking, but that was beside the point. “It wasn’t a legitimate kiss, you fool. It was an act. An impulsive act that effectively aces me out of any bear daddy action for the entirety of my time here.”
“Not true. Shanahan is available. Is he hot? A good kisser?”