Tidewater Lover Read Online Free Page A

The taunt was not so much skepticism as it was mocking contempt.
    Lacey bristled, but steadfastly refused to take the bait of replying in kind. "Yes, Mr. Whitfield, me. I'm aware of what's happening on the various projects, including yours."  
    "Which is precisely nothing."
    "For a very good reason," Lacey insisted, her composure cracking for an instant.
    "All right." He accepted her offer to explain with a decided challenge. "Tell me why there aren't any painters on the job?"
    "The painters aren't there because the bulk of the work left for them is in the various washrooms, work that they can't do until the tile setters are finished. The tile setters aren't there because the plumber isn't finished. You see, Mr. Whitfield, it's a vicious circle."
    "Why aren't the plumbers on the job?" he demanded diffidently. "The story you've just told me isn't new, Miss Andrews. I've heard it all from Bowman, along with a promise that the plumbers would be out there today without fail."
    "At the time that Mr. Bowman told you that, he fully believed it would happen. The problem is that the shipment of bathroom fixtures hasn't arrived. Yesterday the plumber misinformed him that it had come in. Late this morning, Mi—Mr. Bowman found out differently. I know he regrets the delay as much as you do," Lacey added with honey-coated politeness.
    But Whitfield completely ignored the last comment. "Where is the shipment of fixtures?"
    "I don't know, sir. I do know they were shipped several weeks ago from the manufacturer, but they haven't arrived."
    "In other words, they're lost en route and you're saying, 'Too bad,'" he jeered.
    "Of course not," Lacey protested.
    "Then what freight company were they shipped by?"
    "I…I don't know."
    "What about the manifest numbers, points of origin? Do you know any of that, Miss Andrews?" Whitfield continued his biting questions.
    "No, I don't." She was becoming flustered, color warming her cheeks.
    "Do you know if anyone has put a tracer on the shipment?"
    "No, I don't know if it's been done," she admitted stiffly.
    "Has Bowman or the plumbing contractor looked into alternate suppliers for the fixtures, or are they intending to wait for the day when they show up?" he snapped.
    "I'm sure they don't intend to—"
    "I damned well hope not!"
    "Really, Mr. Whitfield." Her lips were compressed in a tight line. "I—"
    "Really, Miss Andrews," he interrupted caustically, "it seems to me if human skill and persistence can put a man on the moon, then it should also be possible to find a lost shipment of toilets, don't you think?"
    "Yes, of course—"
    "Then may I suggest that since you are supposed to be a secretary, you should use your time to see what can be done about finding the shipment!" And the line went dead.
    Lacey sputtered uselessly into the mouthpiece before slamming the receiver on its cradle. His clear-thinking logic made her feel like a bumbling idiot.
    A tracer should have been put out on the shipment several days ago, but it galled that Whitfield had been the one to point out the oversight. Picking up the telephone again, Lacey made the first step to rectify the mistake.
     

 
    Chapter Two
     
    IT WAS crazy, Lacey acknowledged to herself as she stretched lazily like a cat. Here it was a mild summer night and she had all the windows open and a fire burning in the fireplace. But it seemed to somehow fit her mood, with the breeze off the ocean carrying a tangy salt scent; the gentle sound of the breakers rushing in to the beach; and the crackling of flames dancing to the soft music on the stereo.
    After the hectic last day at the office, with the irritating phone call from that Whitfield man, and the long drive through evening traffic to Margo's house, Lacey had virtually collapsed on Friday night, sleeping until nearly noon this morning. An afternoon swim had been the only exertion she had allowed herself, outside of cooking a high-calorie Italian dinner all for herself.
    Now, with the moonlight silvering