Sweet Revenge? by Kate Hoffmann

Author:Kate Hoffmann
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2011-06-21T00:00:00+00:00

6

DREW EXPECTED his housekeeper to be waiting on the other side of the door. She had an irritating habit of forgetting her key. Or perhaps it was a messenger from the office with the blueprints for the Gresham Park project. He’d promised to look them over that evening. He pulled open the door. “This better be good.”

It wasn’t the housekeeper who stood on the other side, or a messenger. Elliot Cosgrove stumbled through the open door, his arms filled with packages and a large blowup doll tucked under his arm. “I’m sorry, sir, but I thought you’d want to see this.”

Drew stepped back and stared, realizing that the doll Elliot carried, with its lush plastic curves and perpetually open mouth, was the type that some men found sexually... comforting. He groaned inwardly. From talking to dogs to sleeping with vinyl companions, Elliot had definitely lost his grip. He’d have to have a serious talk with his business manager. Unfortunately, now was not the time.

Elliot dropped the packages on the polished hardwood floor of the foyer, before he proceeded to wrestle the doll into a Stickley chair. But she refused to sit and kept sliding onto the floor, lying provocatively at Elliot’s feet. He finally gave her a good kick and sent her skidding to the base of the stairway.

“Elliot, would you like to introduce your friend?” Drew asked.

“She doesn’t belong to me, sir,” Elliot replied. “She’s yours.”

Drew shook his head. “I know I’ve been having a few problems in the romance department, but I’m sure I don’t need—”

“I don’t mean she’s yours, sir. I mean, she was delivered to your office this afternoon. Along with some other interesting paraphernalia.” He dug into an open box. “There’s a whip and some handcuffs. And a...a rather large...a large rubber...” Elliot smiled ruefully. “Well, we had to open it. The delivery man insisted on an inventory before we signed for the packages.”

Drew winced, then cursed out loud. “I get the picture. And how many clients were in the reception area this time?”

“Just a few,” Elliot said. “Mr. Landers from the Sutton Park project and Mr. Cartwright from Denham Plaza.”

Drew paced the length of the foyer, his gaze fixed on the boxes and his anger growing. “I want Lubich to pay. I want him out of the picture on the civic center project. I don’t care if we have to lower our bid until we’re below cost. What he’s doing is harassment and I want the civic center committee—hell, I want all Atlanta—to know about his dirty tricks.”

“It’s not Lubich, sir,” Elliot said in a small voice.

Drew turned around and looked at him. “Lubich. His lackeys. What’s the difference?”

“Not his lackeys, either.”

“Then who?”

“Sir, I think you better sit down while I explain.”

Elliot was clearly distraught, though Drew couldn’t understand why this latest trick would cause such an emotional reaction. Elliot’s hands shook and a sheen of perspiration dotted his forehead. Cosgrove took business way too seriously at times. “Calm down, Elliot, and just tell me what you know.

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