computer as McCade poked his head and shoulders in through her office door.
“Yo yourself,” she said with a smile. “You’ve got the day off. What are you doing here?”
He opened the door wider. He was wearing his trademark jeans and T-shirt and carrying a brown grocery bag. “I had this uncontrollable urge to see you.” His husky voice was low, but Sandy knew her secretary was probably straining her ears to hear their conversation.
McCade leaned back into the outer office. “Hey, Laura, hold all of the boss’s calls, will you? She’s taking a lunch break. So, do not disturb. Got it?”
Sandy heard Laura’s affirmative giggle as he closed the door behind him. He clicked the lock firmly—and loudly—into place, and she stood up. “McCade—”
“Time for lunch,” he announced as he unloaded the contents of his bag on Sandy’s desk.
“McCade, the entire office thinks we’re having a passionate affair. Locking ourselves in my office in the middle of the day is
not
going to help matters any.”
“We’re just having lunch,” he protested. He opened a container of chicken salad and helped himself to a forkful. “Mmm, this is great. You’ve gotta try this—”
“Right now half of my staff are devising some sort of office betting pool, probably having to do with the size of your smile when you leave.” Sandy crossed her arms.
“You want to go to the movies tonight?” McCade asked, putting a large helping of three-bean salad onto a paper plate. He sat back, putting his feet up on the other guest chair.
“You’re ignoring me, McCade,” Sandy fumed. “I
hate
it when you ignore me.”
He dropped his feet heavily back onto the floor and leaned over her desk. With one finger he pushed the intercom button. “Laura?”
“Yes?” The tinny speaker made Laura’s voice sound higher and scratchier.
He pushed the button again. “Just wanted to let you know we’re not having sex in here, okay?”
Sandy slapped her forehead with the palm of her hand.
McCade pushed the button again. “Okay?”
“Okay,” Laura finally answered.
He looked up at Sandy. “Better?”
She was laughing despite herself. “My reputation is totally shot.”
“Why?” asked McCade. He was serious. “You’ve made this company a really cool place to work, Sandy. It’s very casual, very friendly, and very relaxed. You give your workers lots of slack, plenty of free rein. Are you so certain they’re not going to do the same for you?”
He reached across her desk and began loading a plate with chicken salad, lettuce, and a generous helping of cut-up vegetables. He set the plate down in front of her chair, then pointed at it. “Sit.”
Sandy sat down slowly.
“Besides, the pool has to do with
when
they think I’ll pop the question, not whether or not we’re getting it on.” McCade shrugged. “I guess they assume that’s a given.”
“My staff thinks we’re going to get
married?
”
“Frank offered me half of the take if I propose to you on the date he’s picked,” he said between mouthfuls of salad. “At ten bucks a head, it comes to about a hundred for him, a hundred for me. So two weeks from Saturday, I’m going to ask you to marry me, okay?”
“God, McCade.” Sandy had been toying with her chicken salad, but now she put down the plastic fork and frowned at him. “You’re about as romantic as a slug.”
He grinned. “Just wanted to give you a warning.”
“And what would you do if I said yes?” She glared at him. “Are you really willing to risk spending the rest of your life with me for a lousy hundred bucks?”
This was it, McCade thought. There would never be a better time to tell her that he was in love with her. But the words seemed to stick in his throat. He coughed and swallowed, then put his plate down carefully on the desk. “Look, Kirk—”
The phone rang, and Sandy picked it up. “Kirk,” she identified herself. She listened for a few moments, then turned to her desk
“Yo yourself,” she said with a smile. “You’ve got the day off. What are you doing here?”
He opened the door wider. He was wearing his trademark jeans and T-shirt and carrying a brown grocery bag. “I had this uncontrollable urge to see you.” His husky voice was low, but Sandy knew her secretary was probably straining her ears to hear their conversation.
McCade leaned back into the outer office. “Hey, Laura, hold all of the boss’s calls, will you? She’s taking a lunch break. So, do not disturb. Got it?”
Sandy heard Laura’s affirmative giggle as he closed the door behind him. He clicked the lock firmly—and loudly—into place, and she stood up. “McCade—”
“Time for lunch,” he announced as he unloaded the contents of his bag on Sandy’s desk.
“McCade, the entire office thinks we’re having a passionate affair. Locking ourselves in my office in the middle of the day is
not
going to help matters any.”
“We’re just having lunch,” he protested. He opened a container of chicken salad and helped himself to a forkful. “Mmm, this is great. You’ve gotta try this—”
“Right now half of my staff are devising some sort of office betting pool, probably having to do with the size of your smile when you leave.” Sandy crossed her arms.
“You want to go to the movies tonight?” McCade asked, putting a large helping of three-bean salad onto a paper plate. He sat back, putting his feet up on the other guest chair.
“You’re ignoring me, McCade,” Sandy fumed. “I
hate
it when you ignore me.”
He dropped his feet heavily back onto the floor and leaned over her desk. With one finger he pushed the intercom button. “Laura?”
“Yes?” The tinny speaker made Laura’s voice sound higher and scratchier.
He pushed the button again. “Just wanted to let you know we’re not having sex in here, okay?”
Sandy slapped her forehead with the palm of her hand.
McCade pushed the button again. “Okay?”
“Okay,” Laura finally answered.
He looked up at Sandy. “Better?”
She was laughing despite herself. “My reputation is totally shot.”
“Why?” asked McCade. He was serious. “You’ve made this company a really cool place to work, Sandy. It’s very casual, very friendly, and very relaxed. You give your workers lots of slack, plenty of free rein. Are you so certain they’re not going to do the same for you?”
He reached across her desk and began loading a plate with chicken salad, lettuce, and a generous helping of cut-up vegetables. He set the plate down in front of her chair, then pointed at it. “Sit.”
Sandy sat down slowly.
“Besides, the pool has to do with
when
they think I’ll pop the question, not whether or not we’re getting it on.” McCade shrugged. “I guess they assume that’s a given.”
“My staff thinks we’re going to get
married?
”
“Frank offered me half of the take if I propose to you on the date he’s picked,” he said between mouthfuls of salad. “At ten bucks a head, it comes to about a hundred for him, a hundred for me. So two weeks from Saturday, I’m going to ask you to marry me, okay?”
“God, McCade.” Sandy had been toying with her chicken salad, but now she put down the plastic fork and frowned at him. “You’re about as romantic as a slug.”
He grinned. “Just wanted to give you a warning.”
“And what would you do if I said yes?” She glared at him. “Are you really willing to risk spending the rest of your life with me for a lousy hundred bucks?”
This was it, McCade thought. There would never be a better time to tell her that he was in love with her. But the words seemed to stick in his throat. He coughed and swallowed, then put his plate down carefully on the desk. “Look, Kirk—”
The phone rang, and Sandy picked it up. “Kirk,” she identified herself. She listened for a few moments, then turned to her desk
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