Hungry for You by Lynsay Sands

project manager allowed them to be installed?” Cale asked with a frown.
    Alex snorted with disgust. “Turns out my project manager was a raging alcoholic and apparently off-site more than he was on. That day he arrived with a hangover, let the installers in, then left them to sign for the tiles and went to pass out in my office.” She shook her head with a sigh. “But I wasn’t about to bite the bullet this time. The tiles I had ordered were a ridiculously expensive Italian import. They cost as much as everything else put together.”
    “What happened?” Cale asked.
    Alex’s mouth twisted bitterly. “The head tile guy was smarter than the carpet installers. He thought the orange might be wrong and tried to wake up the project manager, but he was out cold. So he double-checked the tile numbers on the receipt against the numbers onthe boxes before accepting them, and the numbers were the same so he just decided I had bad taste and went ahead with it.”
    She glanced down and smiled wryly when she saw Cale’s surprised expression. “I checked the numbers myself, and they were indeed the same. It seems the salesman had mistakenly reversed two numbers when writing them down, and the orange tiles were what were on the order … and I’d signed the damned thing without double-checking. I’d gotten exactly what I’d signed for.”
    Cale winced and guessed, “The supplier wouldn’t replace them?”
    Alex snorted and turned back to her work. “The orange ones had been installed. They had to be torn out and didn’t come out intact … and like I said, they were superexpensive. He wasn’t taking that kind of loss if he didn’t have to. Unfortunately, my signing the order with the wrong numbers got him off the hook. Legally, it was my fault. Buyer beware and all that.”
    “And now the paint,” Cale murmured, frowning as he continued painting as well.
    “Yes, well, after the tiles, I fired the project manager.” She scowled at the wall, and admitted, “It was too late though. Replacing the tiles, even with less expensive ones, pretty much wiped me out financially and I couldn’t afford to hire another manager. But I needed someone here to make sure there were no more errors like that. I certainly couldn’t afford another mistake, so I promoted Peter to head chef two weeks ago, so that I could be here at all times and double-check everything.”
    “But?” Cale prompted, knowing something had gone wrong or they wouldn’t now be repainting the walls.
    “I ran over to the old restaurant today to pick up some papers, and the paint showed up a little early. Plus, I was much longer than I intended to be thanks to Peter quitting and my having to find a replacement. By the time I left you at the restaurant and got back here, more than four hours had passed.” She shrugged unhappily. “In the meantime, the wrong paint had arrived and the men started painting.”
    “Ah,” Cale breathed. He worked in silence for a minute, and then asked, “Are you having to swallow the expense for this mix-up as well?”
    Alex shrugged unhappily. “Probably. The men signed for the paint. And it was used, or most of it was. The store manager said to bring back any paint that hadn’t been opened, which is one can,” she added dryly.
    “I’m guessing you checked the receipt to be sure you’d ordered the right one this time?” he queried gently.
    Alex nodded. “Both the billing receipt and the delivery invoice say White Sand.”
    “And the cans?” Cale asked.
    Alex stopped painting and glanced down at him with surprise. She obviously hadn’t thought to check the cans. Setting her roller in the tray, she hurried off the ladder and moved to the used and unopened cans of paint she’d set in the corner. Cale immediately set down his own roller and followed.
    Pausing at her side, he quickly glanced over the cans. The lids to the used ones were off and lying ontheir tops on the drop cloth, but the full one still had its top