Flirting with Disaster Read Online Free Page B

said something to him I didn't catch and the local playboy turned and left.  
    While clearing space on his desk to make room for the lunch bags, Mr. Bishop asked me, "How long will you be staying in town?"
    "For as long as it takes." Taking a chair from the corner and bringing it next to the desk, I added, "I've planned to give it a couple of months, but this could take a lot longer." Or it could be all over in a single fortnight.
    My answer seemed to reassure him a bit. "Do you need help finding accommodations?"  
    "No, thank you, I have a place to stay. However, it hasn't been lived in for a while and I will be looking for someone to help me fix a few things, if you have someone in mind, I would truly appreciate it."
    "I have just the man for you," he said. "He's got hands of gold. If it's fixable, he'll find a way to make it work. Gimme your number and he'll call you tonight or tomorrow at the latest."
    I wrote down my cell number on the back of one of my business cards and we had an amicable lunch during which he proceeded to tell me about most of the employees.  
    The man was smart, he realized it would be harder for me to give them the boot if they became more for me than names on a list.  

CHAPTER SEVEN

    Dad called to tell me he'd found work for me, which was a welcome surprise. The extra money would help catch up on a few bills that had fallen behind. Even though I didn't mind working for my keep, when I heard who it was for, I scowled. I was less than thrilled, but when it came down to cash, it all spends the same.  
    I studied the number on the paper, trying to decide whether to call her tonight or in the morning. It was the lady from Dad's office I'd seen earlier. She was like a crocodile scavenging for her next meal. The very one who drove the BMW that almost took me off the road. I decided it was probably better to get it over with. I dialed her number and waited.  
    She didn't pick up, so I left a voice mail. “Hey, this is Ryder Bishop. My dad gave me your number. He said you need some work done. Give me a call back and we can discuss the project you had in mind.”  
    Barbara Johnson, the name wasn't familiar, but then again neither was her face when I saw her earlier. What was her story? Did she like going into towns and crushing people's hopes and dreams? Did it get her blood flowing to hold power in her hands? I could tell by Dad's posture that she was in control of whatever was going on. I'd have to put aside my feelings. Get in, get out, get paid, and be on my way.  
    When my phone rang, I knew who it was. I took a deep breath and forced the air out of my lungs. Don't jump to conclusions and keep the tone respectful. I needed the money. She had no idea how hard it was to restrain my sarcasm and frustration. Let's face it, her presence in this town alone hadn't started out well. I doubted she'd know I was the one she almost hit with her car.  
    "Ryder Bishop, here." I let her lead the conversation. Otherwise, I'd come off too aggressive. I didn't want her to give the work to somebody else. I couldn't pretend it didn't matter who she was, but by the look on my dad's face, I knew she meant bad news. Yet, if I said something, our business might be over before it even started.
    "Hi, Ryder, this is Barbara Johnson. Your father gave me your number. I've got some odd jobs I'd like to have done while I'm in town. I happened to mention it to your father. When I told him I was looking for help he said you're the person I should talk to." She sounded business-like, no warmth in that personality. Maybe she softened up once she got to know someone, but this lady liked to be in control. No doubt she'd be difficult to work for, but money was money.
    For a split second, I wondered what it would be like to smash through the brick walls she surrounded herself with. Had anyone grabbed a fistful of her hair, tilted her head back, and kissed her with a passion that made her knees weak? Had anyone thrown her over