Judith McWilliams - The Matchmaking Machine

Ignoring his comment would probably be the quickest way to lower the sudden tension which had sprung up between them, she decided.

“Did you hurt your head?” she tried.

“Yes,” he snapped. “I probably fractured my skull.”

“Nonsense,” Maggie said bracingly. “All you did was smack it on something.”

“That something was a porcelain sink!” He gave her an aggrieved look that made her want to take him in her arms and kiss his ill humor away, something she didn’t recall ever wanting to do with anyone before.

“Sit down.” Maggie gestured toward the vanity seat. “I’ll see how bad it is.”

To her surprise, he obediently sat down and bent his head slightly so she could look.

Maggie set the manila envelope and her purse down on the vanity and tentatively touched his head. Her fingers sank into his silky, dark hair, searching for a lump. His hair was cool on the outside and very warm next to his scalp. It was an intriguing combination. From this close, she could smell the citrusy scent of his cologne.

Maggie swallowed uneasily as a curl of heat tightened in the pit of her stomach, making her feel edgy. Her fingertips began to tingle, and she had to fight the urge to caress the very slight bump she found.

“I think you’ll live.” Her voice came out sounding husky and not at all like her normal, even, no-nonsense tone. How could she be reacting so strongly to some strange man she had chanced upon in a bathroom? She wondered uneasily. She had never been the impulsive type about anything—and that included sexual attraction. Not only that, but she didn’t know the first thing about this guy.

No, that wasn’t quite true, she corrected herself. She actually knew two things about him. She knew he was gorgeous, and she knew he was a plumber.

He might live, but he wouldn’t do it with any degree of comfort in her vicinity, Richard Worthington thought ruefully as he struggled to control his body’s enthusiastic response to her touch. He certainly didn’t want her to realize that he’d taken one look at her and every male hormone he had had kicked into overdrive—at least, not until he figured out who she was and what she was doing in his apartment.

He was positive he’d locked the door behind him, so she had to have had a key to have gotten in. Could she have come from the office of the lawyer who was handling his sublease of the place? One thing was clear: she certainly hadn’t come to steal anything because she had no place to hide it. His gaze lingered on the small expanse of delectable-looking skin between her form-fitting sweater and her pants. The blackness of her outfit highlighted the creamy texture of her perfect skin.

“I’m Richard, and you are…” He held out his hand, seizing the opportunity to touch her.

The woman put her hand in his.

“Maggie. Do you know where the housekeeper is?” she said, looking uncomfortable, as if she wasn’t used to dealing with unknown men.

“What housekeeper?” Richard looked around the spacious bathroom as if he expected to find a strange woman hiding in a corner. “There was no one else here when I arrived earlier.”

“Oh,” Maggie said and glanced down, only to find that she was still holding on to his hand like a lifeline. Appearing to be embarrassed, she dropped it and took a step back. “Tell me, have you seen the study?”

“Why?” he said curiously.

“I’m supposed to put that on the desk in the study.” She nodded toward the manila envelope on the vanity.

“What’s in it?” Richard leaned over and began to search through the toolbox on the floor.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I’m just the messenger.”

“Here, hold this.” Richard handed her the wrench and went back to rummaging through his tools.

Maggie automatically accepted it, though she seemed to be rather surprised by its weight.

“Open the envelope and see what it is,” Richard ordered, wondering if it was the treasurer’s report that was supposed to have arrived earlier. Straightening out the mess Sam had created was not going to be an easy job—he felt a surge of adrenaline at the thought of the challenge—but it would be worth it. Both he and his father agreed that the company was the perfect vehicle to use to get a foothold in the software applications market.

“Certainly not!” Maggie snapped. “And why are you so interested? Unless you’re an industrial spy?”

With narrowed eyes, she studied his arrested expression. His gray eyes were blank, and his mouth had fallen slightly open, revealing perfect white teeth. Could he actually be such a thing? She wondered uncertainly. On the surface, it seemed like a ludicrous idea because, until Worthington actually arrived, there should have been nothing of any business import in the apartment for him to spy on. He could hardly have known that someone would be coming by with an envelope from the treasurer, could he? She wasn’t sure. The only thing she knew about industrial spying had been learned at the movies, which was hardly a reliable source of information.

“Are you serious?” Richard asked, studying her suspicious face, unable to decide whether to be amused or annoyed. Clearly she had no idea that he owned the company that had hired her messenger firm to deliver the package. Who did she think he was? Her next words answered his question.

“No, not really, but I think you’d better stick to the plumbing you were hired to do.”

Could she really think he was a plumber? He wondered in confusion. Or was this some clever ploy to…To do what? No one knew he was in New York yet except Daniel, and he wouldn’t willingly give anyone the time of day, let alone information about him.

“You’re very loyal to your boss,” he probed as he inched back under the sink.

“No, I’m not,” she said, allowing herself the self-indulgent pleasure of openly eyeing his body while he couldn’t see her. “What I do have is a strongly developed sense of survival. I don’t even want to think about what he’d do if he found out I’d looked at his precious papers!”

“I suppose anyone who operated a messenger service would have to be extra careful about her company’s reputation,” he said. “Hand me the wrench I asked you to hold.” Richard stuck a large hand out from under the sink.

Maggie gave it to him. “I don’t work for a messenger service. I work for a computer firm that was just bought out by a big electronics holding company from California. The son of the owner is coming to town to oversee the takeover, and, from what I’ve seen, he makes Simon Legree look like an advocate for human rights. The person who should have delivered this package was the old president’s secretary, and she flatly refused to even come near this place. That’s how bad Worthington is.”

Richard’s hand stilled as her words sank in. She was referring to him, he realized in shock. But why did she dislike him so much? Unless office gossip was responsible? Rumors did tend to be rife during a takeover.

“What exactly are you doing?” Maggie threw into the silence. She’d much rather talk about Worthington than her problems at work.

“I’m replacing the cold-water pipe to the faucet,” he said, deciding not to tell her who he was just yet.

“I need a Phillips screwdriver. Do you know what one looks like?”

“Of course I know what a Phillips head screwdriver looks like. The days of the helpless little woman are long gone.”

“Oh, I don’t know. There’s something kind of appealing about knowing more than a woman about guy things.”

“There are no guy things. That’s…” Her voice trailed away as her eyes instinctively dropped to his groin and the muscles in her abdomen suddenly clenched. Okay, so there were some exclusively guy things, but she had no intention of amending her original statement and opening up what could prove to be an embarrassing line of discussion.