“You mean . . .”
“Beck is the best there is at this kind of work.” Maisie’s lip curved up in a half-grin, even as Sarah’s stomach tumbled at the name. “I’m not just saying that because he’s my brother. He could do this in his sleep.”
He’d also probably drive Sarah to drink in the process.
They’d dated after college. Set up by mutual friends, their chemistry had been immediate and intense. But within a few months, it had grown too hot. After a final, explosive fight about something she couldn’t remember, she’d told him to lose her number. For once, he’d listened.
Hiring Beck to do this project was less than ideal. On any other day, Sarah would have ignored the suggestion. Still, Maisie was right. Beck could make quick and solid work of this.
Desperate times . . .
“Okay,” Sarah said. “Let’s bring him in.”
She hoped she wouldn’t regret it.
Chapter Two
Beck Spencer knew trouble when he saw it. And this office—and the woman running it—spelled big trouble.
The last time he’d seen Sarah Burton, she’d been two seconds away from tossing a cocktail in his face. Her ice-blue eyes had burned with rage over something he’d said. Of what, he couldn’t recall, but he’d probably baited her. He’d almost definitely baited her. In his own twisted way, he liked it when she snapped. When she shed that veil of control she kept in place in almost every situation. Oh, he admired her fortitude, her discipline. He also liked knowing he could get around it. That was the only time he felt like they were on even ground.
The woman waiting for him when the elevator door slid open was fully in control—of her emotions and her empire. She was every inch the executive. An executive in a T-shirt and jeans, but in command all the same.
Even though he’d never admit it—especially not to her—he liked this look too. A lot. More than the guy hired to rebuild her company’s network should.
Clearing his throat, Beck shook the hand she offered. Her grip was firm, confident. Yes, she was in command. And, yes, she could crush him if he gave her the chance. Again.
He kept up the shake longer than he should have while he tried to figure out what to say. For the life of him, he couldn’t come up with an appropriate greeting. “I’ve thought about you” seemed inappropriate at best and creepy at worst. Yet “hello” or a grunt wouldn’t do either. Rebuilding the complex system of broadband connections was easier than figuring out what to say. It was all the more reason he was better at doing his job than being a boyfriend.
“I hear you need some work done,” he said, at last, releasing her hand.
“You heard correctly.” She took a step back either by intent or instinct. Increasing the space between them was smart. She always had been the most brilliant person in the room.
Not to mention the most stubborn and infuriating. He’d be wise to follow her lead.
Tucking his hands in his denim pockets, he leaned back on his heels.
“My sister gave me a quick rundown of what we’re dealing with. How about you show me?”
With a curt nod, she swiveled around and strode down the hall. He ambled along a few steps behind, half-listening as she repeated everything he’d already heard from Maisie. It would save them time if he interjected, but he let her carry on. They could both probably use a few extra minutes—and a brisk walk—to ease the tension.
If he wasn’t mistaken, the tension wasn’t all awkwardness and annoyance. He’d caught the hint of a flush darkening her cheeks the moment before she’d turned away.
When she paused at a gaping hole in the wall, he dropped to his haunches to take a better look. Maisie wasn’t usually one to exaggerate, but she’d all but compared the current system to a patchwork quilt made out of dishrags.
Pulling the flashlight from his utility belt, he shined it into the void. He craned his neck and winced. Even the untrained eye could tell this stretch of cable had seen better days. There were gobs of electrical tape and a decade’s worth of splitters. It was hard to tell what was fiber and what was electrical. A crashed server was a minor issue. They were lucky the server hadn’t overheated and set the whole building on fire.
Behind him, Sarah lowered herself to the ground to peer over his shoulder.
“You don’t have to sugarcoat it. I know it’s bad. Just tell me how we fix it.”
A faint whiff of lavender filled his senses. He knew the name of the flower because she’d told him long ago. For a second, he let his eyes close and his mind wander to what it had been like to hold her in his arms. His finger nudged an electrical wire, and he flinched from a slight shock.
Eyes wide open now, he’d seen enough. He flipped off the flashlight and drew back slowly, careful not to touch her.
“Want the fastest fix or the best?”
Her brow wrinkled. “The best.”
“You could let things progress their natural course. And in a couple of weeks—maybe a month or two on the outside—you can collect the insurance money after the whole place burns down.”
Her eyes narrowed, and he smirked.
“You’re joking.”
“I’d never joke about money.” He eased up back to his feet and offered her a hand. Ignoring it, she stood on her own. “You could probably get enough from the settlement to buy a summer home in the Keys.”
If her death glare was any indication, she didn’t appreciate the joke.
“Or not.” He released a whistle and tucked his hands back into his pockets. “I guess you’d rather go for a rebuild.”
“If that’s the one that doesn’t involve burning my business to the ground, then I’d say you’re on the right track.”
No humor. She clearly wanted to keep this strictly professional. Fine by him.
Pulling out a pack of cinnamon gum, he offered her a piece. She silently declined, and he popped a piece in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.
“Maisie was right. We need to start from the ground up.” He stared at the wall because it was easier than meeting those bewitching pale blue eyes that betrayed nothing. “Are you okay with taking down the drywall?”
“Completely. It was already up when we moved in. I’m not married to it.”
“Your landlords don’t mind?” He turned in time to catch a small grin curve her full lips.
“As of last year, I own the building.”
Of course, she did.
Pretending not to be impressed, he ran through the long list of fixes that would need to be made to give her a reliable network. Short of burying fiber in the ground—which had been done two years before—he’d have to start over. That wouldn’t take as much time as it sounded. Not like building a new house. It would still take him about a week if everything went as planned.
It wouldn’t be cheap. The parts alone would cost a pretty penny.
Sarah took the news in stride. She gave a short nod and asked, “When can we start?”
“If we go through your Internet provider, it’ll probably take at least two weeks to get something scheduled.”
She shook her head, giving him pause. These days, she was wearing her dark brown hair cropped so it fell just below her jawline. The movement of her head sent it waving, drawing more attention to her long, slender neck. He remembered how she’d sighed when his lips had brushed against the sweet spot just below her ear.