Just Curious Read online

  “What about your husband?”

  “Let him open his own cans.”

  Two

  KAREN SETTLED BACK IN THE WIDE SEAT OF THE AIRPLANE, business class, and sipped her glass of orange juice. Beside her, McAllister Taggert already had his nose in the papers in his briefcase. Early this morning when she’d arrived at the airport, she was escorted to a lounge that she’d had no idea existed at the Denver airport.

  Unobtrusively, she’d taken a chair across from him, and he hadn’t bothered to greet her or even look at her. Ten minutes later, idly, he’d glanced up, lost in thought, then back down at his papers. Karen then had the great satisfaction of seeing him pause and look back at her—a long, slow look that went from her head to her toes then back up again.

  “You are Karen Lawrence, aren’t you?” he asked, making her smile, and making her sure that the three hours at Bunny’s, with her head covered in foil, her face slathered in mud, then another three hours at home trying on everything in her closet, had been worth it.

  He told her he had to work on the trip to Virginia, then looked back down at his papers, but several times he glanced at Karen. All in all, she found those looks quite gratifying.

  Now, on the plane, she sat beside him, sipping orange juice and growing more bored by the minute. “Anything I can do to help?” she asked, nodding toward his papers.

  He smiled at her in that way men do when they think a woman is pretty but had somehow managed to be born without a brain. “If I’d brought a computer, you could type for me, but actually, no, I have nothing for you to do. I just have some decisions to make.”

  Ah, yes, she thought, Men’s Work. “Such as?” she urged.

  A slight frown crossed his handsome brow. Obviously he liked his women to remain silent. “Just buying and selling,” he answered quickly, in a tone that was meant to make her stop asking childish questions.

  “And exactly what are you considering buying or selling this morning?”

  The small frown changed to one that made his brows meet in the middle over the bridge of his nose. Love is such a funny thing, she thought. Had Ray looked at her like that, she would have backed off immediately, but this man did not frighten her a bit.

  When he saw that she wasn’t going to stop questioning him, he snapped, “I’m thinking of purchasing a small publishing company,” then looked back at his papers.

  “Ah,” she said. “Coleman and Brown Press. Bad covers, mostly reprints. A few good books on regional history, but the covers were so bad no one bought the books.”

  McAllister looked at her as though she should mind her own business. “If I decide to buy it, I’ll hire a new art director who can design good covers.”

  “Can’t. The publisher is sleeping with her.”

  McAllister had just put his glass of orange juice to his lips and at Karen’s words he nearly choked. “What?”

  “I was curious, so when the publisher’s secretary came to deliver the financial sheets to you I asked her to have lunch with me. She told me that the publisher—who is married and has three children—has been having a long-term affair with the art director. If he fires her, she’ll blab to his wife—whose family owns the publishing house. It’s a very sticky situation.”

  Mac blinked at her. “So what do you recommend?” he asked with great sarcasm.

  “Buy the house and put some competent people in there, then consolidate several of the small history books into one fat one and sell it as a textbook on Colorado history to the schools. There’s a great deal of money to be made in textbooks.”

  For a long moment Mac just looked at her. “And you found out all this because you were curious, right?”

  Turning away, Karen looked out the window and knew she’d never missed Ray more than she did in that moment. Ray used to listen to her; he liked her ideas and her input. Unfortunately, she’d found that most men’s minds were as closed as this man’s.

  It wasn’t until the plane had taken off and they were cruising that he spoke to her again. “What other things have you looked into?” he asked softly. “Jet engines? Sewage plants? Road building equipment?”

  She knew he was being ironic, but at the same time, she could hear that he actually wanted to know. “I’m only interested in the small things, especially the local Denver places.”

  “Such as?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.

  “Lawson’s Department Store,” she answered quickly.

  At that he smiled indulgently. “That place is an eyesore to downtown Denver. I already have an excellent offer from Glitter and Sass.”

  “Those stores that sell leather and chains?” she asked with a curled lip.

  “More like leather and rhinestones.” Leaning back in the seat, he looked at her in speculation. “And who would you sell it to?” When she didn’t answer, he gave her a little smile. “Come on, don’t chicken out on me now. If you’re going to tell me how to run my business, don’t stop after one suggestion.”

  “All right,” she said defiantly. “I’d open a store that sells baby paraphernalia.” At that she expected him to turn away in disgust, but he didn’t. He just sat there, patiently waiting for her to continue.

  She took a deep breath. “In England they have stores called Mothercare that sell everything for babies: maternity wear, strollers, nursery furniture, diapers, the works. In America you have to go to different stores for different items, and when you’re eight-months pregnant and your feet are swollen and you have two other kids, it’s not easy schlepping to five different stores trying to get what you need for the baby. I don’t know from experience, but it seems that it would be a wonderful convenience to be able to buy everything from one store.”

  “And what would you call this store?” he asked quietly.

  “Sanctuary?” she answered innocently, making him laugh.

  McAllister took a piece of paper and a pen from his briefcase and handed it to her. “Here. Write down all you know or think about Coleman and Brown Press. All of it, gossip, everything. I want to know how I can make that place a going concern.”

  Karen used all her strength to keep from smiling, but it was no use. She had a feeling he’d never before asked a woman her opinion of what he should buy or sell. His branch of Montgomery-Taggert was very small, and he had a few women executives, but everyone knew that McAllister Taggert was a law unto himself. He infuriated people in his employ by his stubborn insistence on doing things his own way. It further infuriated them that he was pretty much always right.

  But now he was asking her opinion! “Aye, aye, sir,” Karen said mockingly as she started to write, but out of the corner of her eye, she could see just a bit of a smile playing about his lips.

  * * *

  If Karen thought she was going to get any warmth out of Taggert, the notion was short-lived, for what time during the flight he didn’t have his nose buried in papers, he was on the telephone. He ate with one hand, papers in the other. When they landed at Dulles Airport, outside D.C., he handed her three one-hundred-dollar bills, said, “Green hanging,” then nodded toward the baggage carousel. Karen was tempted to give the porter one bill as a tip, but instead, she paid the five dollars out of her own pocket, then tried to find Taggert. He found her, rental car keys in his hand, and quickly, they went outside into the crisp, cold air to the car.

  Once inside the warmth of the car, it felt almost intimate to be alone with him and she looked about for something to say. “If I’m to pretend to be your fiancée, shouldn’t I know something about you?”

  “What do you want to know?” he asked in a way that made Karen give him a look of disgust.

  “Nothing really. I’m sure that knowing you are rich is enough for any woman.”

  Karen had expected the jab to make him laugh or respond sarcastically, but it didn’t. Instead, he just looked straight ahead, his brow creased in concentration. For the rest of the drive, Karen didn’t bother to talk. She decided if anyone asked why she was planning to marry M.J. Tagge