“Which is?”
“I’m a miniaturist.”
The answer meant nothing to him, but she didn’t seem in the mood to elaborate. Her ramrod straight body posture projected a mix of fear and confidence. He hated being the cause of such anxiety for her. Maybe they could share a Mylanta toast?
“Do you enjoy your work?”
Her eye roll let him know exactly what she thought of the question. “Do you?”
He pursed his lips. Not at the moment. He offered a tight smile as she saved him from answering.
“This is extremely awkward, Mr. Fordham. Normally, my grandfather comes in—I join him when I’m in town which hasn’t been all that often. We meet with several of the officers and Walter. We show off my designs, we discuss staffing, H.R. sets us up with badges, we get keys and we’re off. Today, however, I’ve heard all kinds of crazy unsettling rumors and that’s before running into...” She glanced around and lowered her voice. “Before getting the surprise of my life that the man whose bed I shared last night isn’t who I thought he was and now he’s going to tell me my services are no longer needed.”
His gut clenched. His fingers gripped the edge of upper right drawer. She was angry and she was right. But even if he had known who she was, would he have been able to resist?
“I’m as shocked as you, probably more so. You assumed—”
“You didn’t correct me.”
“No, I did not. But you never told me your last name until five minutes ago.”
“You didn’t tell me yours.”
“True. Maybe we would have shared those details over breakfast if you’d stuck around. I still don’t know where you live. The contracts all say Clem Evans and his successors. How was I supposed to guess you owned CJ’s Hobbies?”
“Touché. So this is about the contract?”
“Yes.”
She appeared crestfallen. He didn’t want to take away her livelihood, but the decision was final.
“Let’s get this over with. I’m sure you had a whole spiel planned.” She huffed and fell back against her chair.
“Back to business then. As you know, Adena Energy recently sold to a private firm, Fordham, Fordham and Schmidt. I represent their interests in making Adena profitable once again.”
“Through slash and burn business methods.”
“Through careful assessment of redundancies, overinflated budgets and projects secondary to the company’s stated mission, which is to provide energy to the community. I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news since this impacts you on a personal and professional level, but the holiday train display is a tremendous misdirection of the company’s resources in terms of electrical use, manpower, and liability.”
“All that impressive jargon means is you are breaking Adena’s contract with me.”
Heart heavy, he met her gaze, those beautiful eyes flashing a mix of anger and sorrow. “Yes.”
SHE LEANED BACK, TRYING to suppress her desire to reach across the desk and throttle him. How dare he! He was an outsider. A city boy of the worst possible kind. A narrow-minded, greedy, selfish, rat-bastard who didn’t deserve sunsets. He didn’t understand a thing about Belkin, community, or common decency. At this rate, she’d be stuck with a lot of free time on her schedule and she no longer wanted to spend time with the man who made it possible.
She’d wasted a perfectly good morning creating figures capturing his eyes so he could be part of world she recreated in miniature. She’d even put on a skirt and heels. The jerk wouldn’t appreciate the effort, not after the way his questioning tone mocked her. He understood the all-mighty dollar. She had one chance and only one chance to reach him before she walked out of this office and out of his life forever.
Digging through the messenger bag, she let the papers absorb some of the anger burbling inside her. Too many people and businesses in town survived on the money brought in during this display. Beverley, the O’Meara’s, the police department. This year, they all depended on her. She pulled a manila folder from the bag.
She smiled her prettiest, forced smile as she sat back up. She was so glad Grandfather had accepted her suggestion during the last contract negotiation. She’d learned the sting of poor negotiations several years ago when a six-figure salary slipped through her hands because she failed to enumerate all possible contingencies.
“As per the contract details, Mr. Fordham, you do understand that Adena owes CJ’s Hobbies compensation whether the display takes place or not. I’ll have to look up the exact number, but I believe it’s around ninety thousand. That seems rather wasteful for services not rendered.”
“Admittedly, we would prefer to forgo that expense, but Fordham will honor contracts previously entered into.”
“Cancelling is not honoring.”
“The payout is.”
She wanted to smack the calm smugness off his face. Maybe he could be part of the holiday scene, sitting in jail, under arrest for stealing Christmas and being mean. She refused to break down in front of him. She picked up her bags, squeezing her fingers around the handles as if preparing for a bare-knuckle brawl. She took two steps toward him. The jerk didn’t have the decency to cower.
“The contract also specifies CJ Hobbies also retains ownership of all models created, even those stored on site. Rent. Free.”
“I was not aware of that clause. I’ll request the building manager to arrange for pick-up of your property as soon as possible. You understand Adena cannot continue to provide rent-free storage.” His flat, almost bored tone pushed at her last remaining bit of self-control.
“And another thing, Mr. Business-man-contract-money-lover. I only invest my time on high return items. You are not one.”
“I’m an item?”
“We could have been. Not now.”
“But this is business, not personal. I though you understood the separation. Last night you were all ‘no business talk.’”
“Because business is personal to me and not everyone appreciates my chosen path. I thought you might
