Jack barked happily when she let herself in the front door. He skidded down the hall and crashed into her. Eighty pounds of shaggy fur, lolling tongue and stupid. She grabbed his head between her hands. “Who’s a good boy? Who’s the best boy?”
His entire body wagged out his answer. Molly laughed from her desk. “And you wonder why he won’t behave for you. You encourage bad behavior. Jack. Sit.”
And he sat, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth and his tail swishing across the floor. Sadie leaned down and kissed the top of his head. “I think you’re the best boy,” she told him. “Granny Molly is just a meanie.”
“Your new hire is still in the back, taking the personality tests. I called his references, they check out. Told them to expect a call from you.”
Sadie took the handful of mail Molly held out to her. “Anything else?”
“Deanna Carter—”
“No.”
“—asked if you’d reconsider.”
“No.”
“Says she was under stress and is—”
“No.”
“—taking medication and has her issues under control.”
“Don’t care if God Himself writes her an excuse. She groped one of my guys. No.”
Molly held up her hands in surrender. “Only relaying the message. Don’t get mad at me.”
“I’m not mad at you. I’m still mad at her.”
She bit back several colorful words. There was a new hire in the back. A new hire she wasn’t sure she should hire. He was too...too much. She went to her office and tossed the mail on the desk. Get it together. You can’t deny a man a job because he makes you remember you’re a woman. You’re an adult. You’re a professional. Deal with it. She pulled the band out of her hair and shook out the curls, running her fingers over her scalp, trying to ease the brewing headache. An unfamiliar creak on a hallway floorboard was the only warning she got before Wyatt appeared in her open doorway. He stood with an easy, relaxed confidence and it made her wonder what it would take to rile him up a bit. And the thought sent a delicious little wave of pleasure through her. She tossed the hair band on her desk and squared her shoulders. “All done?”
“I think so. Hope so. My eyes are about to fall out of my skull. Not used to staring at a computer for so long.”
He turned as she approached the door so she brushed lightly against his arm when she passed. Apparently all he had to do was stand there to rile her up. She shook her head as she walked down the hall. He followed and she swore she could feel his gaze on her back. She did what she always did when flustered—reverted to business mode.
“Have a seat,” she said, waving at one of the tables set up as desks. She remained standing until he sat. Only then did she sit across from him. “There’s a reason we do so much testing. The results will be calculated and I’ll get a report.”
“Seems to be pretty standard with any job application these days,” he said.
“True. It’s for everyone’s protection. My business model is a bit odd, some might say. So I make sure everyone, employees and customers alike, are on the same page about the services provided.”
He leaned forward, crossing his arms on the table and distracting her with those tanned, muscled forearms, lightly dusted with sun-bleached blond hair. “And those services are?”
She snapped her eyes back to his. “We clean. Period. The end.”
“I understand you perfectly. Do the customers? I recently got custody of my eight-year-old niece. I’m her only living relative. I can’t afford any kind of accusation.”
It took a moment for her to answer. Eight years old. Only living relative. Her heart raced and she drew in a slow breath. She clasped her hands together, staring down at her fingers. She cleared her throat and forced the corners of her mouth up into a smile.
“A lot of our clients have been with me since before the Cleaning Crew existed. New customers come primarily from referrals. All new clients have a sit-down interview with me and they have to sign a behavior agreement as part of their contract. Employees sign one also.”
He rocked back in his seat. “That’s pretty thorough.”
“When we were first starting out, a woman made accusations. She fairly quickly confessed she’d made up the entire incident. She’d developed a crush on one of our guys, and when he did not reciprocate, she tried to get him fired by lying.”
She stopped there. It still made her furious. She took a few deep breaths so she could talk without her volume climbing to shouting range. “Even though it was straightened out right away, it scared me. Max was a college kid majoring in education. If there had been some sort of crime reported against him, it could have landed him on the sex offenders list and he would never have been able to get a job as a teacher. It could have ruined his entire life. So I take this very seriously.”
“Good. Exactly what I want to hear. I need a job and a paycheck. I don’t need to risk my future and my niece’s future.”
She stood and he followed suit. “I think you’ll be fine. I’ll get the results and call you tomorrow.”
THE DAY WAS pleasant and Wyatt would have chosen the outdoor seating, but Marcus Canard had already taken up residence in a corner booth at the Citadel Mall location of Sesame Burgers & Beer. The lunch crowd was beginning to thin out which troubled him a little. People in large noisy crowds were less likely to eavesdrop.
Wyatt hesitated, studying Marcus for a moment. He wore the Southern gentleman’s casual uniform of khakis and a polo shirt. But everything was a bit off. The shirt stretched over a too-large gut and one collar was frayed. The fabric of the khakis was stiff and shiny. By his appearance, he wouldn’t seem to fit with the business elite of Charleston, but he did.
He’d first noticed it when he’d been summoned to the office of Henry Moody to meet Marcus. The contrast between Henry’s Old World grace and Marcus’s crude appearance and speech was almost comical. Until you realized they were both rich and powerful men. And in the business world, money and power were all that really mattered.
Wyatt had taken this assignment when he really didn’t want to. The work he did for Henry’s insurance company was his main source of income. He couldn’t jeopardize that relationship. Not with Jules’s welfare to consider. So he was stuck with Marcus Canard. He crossed the room, pulling on his bland cop face.
“Did you get the job?” Marcus asked around a mouthful of fries as Wyatt sat across from him.
“Start on Monday. It’d be helpful if you told me exactly what it is you’re looking for.”
“Anything. I know that gal isn’t running a legitimate business over there. And what’s with the guy thing? Is that a gimmick or are those boys doing more than mopping?”
Wyatt corralled his irritation while he gave the waitress his order. Clients usually knew exactly what they wanted him to find. When he turned back to Marcus, he had it mostly under control. “You think there’s something illegal going on, then?”
“All I know is she charges twice what I do, and for what? So a good-looking guy can clean your house? Who cares what he looks like?”
A spark of interest flared at that and Wyatt leaned forward. “You think she’s running a male-prostitute service?”
“Why not? Women can pay for it now, too, right?”
“My preliminary