“Then that will be their problem, not ours,” Skip replied unsympathetically. “Besides, the consortium we put together can always buy him out, and they can turn his luxurious beach house into a restaurant or something.”
Connor had already had thoughts along the same lines himself. Not that Fitts’s property would come cheap. Or even reasonably priced.
“Meanwhile, how are you doing at convincing the delectable Ms. Neumeyer to change her mind and work with us on this?” Skip asked.
Connor frowned and took a sip of his coffee. “Don’t call her that.”
“Why?” Skip paused and narrowed his eyes. “She’s a beauty and you know it. Unless…” He studied Connor all the more. “You’re not really getting sweet on her, are you?”
Was he?
Connor knew better than to mix business and pleasure.
Knew better than to let anything cloud his judgment.
Yet there he had been last night, having dinner with her family and kissing her, and this morning, driving her and her children to school. Listening to her most intimate problems. Offering unsolicited advice!
“And what’s with the clothes, anyway?” Skip demanded as his glance swept Connor’s T-shirt and jeans. “You heading out on someone’s boat or something?”
He shrugged and said casually, “I was planning to see if I could help Kristy.” Which was another anomaly, as Connor knew nothing about the kinds of tasks she was doing. If he needed something fixed, he simply hired someone to do it for him. Kristy was a lot more hands-on.
“Good plan.” Skip nodded approvingly. He leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, “Infiltrating the enemy camp.”
Connor and Skip had been friends for years, and business partners for the last fifteen. They’d enjoyed many a success together, Skip doing the business analysis and Connor working with all the parties to soothe the rough edges and get the deals implemented. Until now, Connor had appreciated Skip’s ability to keep his emotions out of any work situation. This time it was different. Maybe because for the first time someone stood to get hurt by what they were proposing. And Skip seemed either not to comprehend that or not to care. “She’s not our enemy,” Connor said flatly. He drained the last of his coffee and found it as cold and flat as his mood.
“She is if she won’t sell to the group we’ve put together,” Skip warned.
Connor was silent.
Beginning to look as upset with the situation as Connor was, Skip leaned forward and warned, “You’re not for one minute forgetting we’ve spent the past five months putting this project together or that we each stand to make a fortune from the deal, are you?”
No, Connor wasn’t forgetting that.
The problem was, he realized with a weary sigh, he couldn’t seem to forget Kristy Neumeyer, either. And that made it awfully darn hard to push on with a business proposition he knew she not only loathed, but was also resisting with every fiber of her being.
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