The Heartbreaker by Vicki Lewis Thompson

representatives all over the country who report in by phone, fax and e-mail. I’ve chosen to stay in the main office because I grew up in Chicago and I’ve never had a reason to leave. But with all the traveling I do with the company, I could live anywhere I wanted and still do my job just fine.”
    â€œAren’t you getting a little ahead of yourself? We haven’t even had a date, yet.”
    â€œThat isn’t because I haven’t tried.” He gestured toward the table. “We can count this as a date, for that matter.”
    â€œNo, I don’t think we can.” She balled up the rest of her sandwich and shoved it into the bag. “Because the truth is, I’m not interested in a personal relationship with you.” She met his gaze. “If that means we can’t work together on the cutter, then I’m sorry. And if you’re staying in Bisbee in hopes that I’ll change my mind, I’m afraid you’re wasting your time.”
    He looked unperturbed by her announcement. “I hope you’re not saving yourself for Tremayne.”
    â€œNo, I’m not.” She stood. “And I really need to get those cutters ready to ship, if you’ll excuse me.”
    â€œHe told me last night that if I’d take good care of you, he’d be happy for you.”
    A pulse beat at her temple, signaling an oncoming headache. “I thought you said he told you to stay away from me?”
    â€œHe did, but that was because he probably views me the same way you do, a one-night-stand type. I didn’t bother to explain the details of my job flexibility to him, because frankly, it’s none of his damn business. I’m only pointing out to you that if he thought I’d do right by you, he’d abandon the field to me, because he’s not the slightest bit interested in sticking around.”
    â€œI know that.” Which she did, but hearing it coming from Colby made the truth sound all that much worse. “And I have no intention of getting involved with either of you.”
    He stood and picked up the sandwich bag. “All I’m saying is that I’m a better bet than he is.”
    â€œI’m not in a betting mood these days.”
    â€œThat’s okay.” He shoved his empty beer cans into the sack. “Because I am.”
    Normally she would have asked him to leave the empty cans because she recycled them, but the global environment didn’t matter as much as the environment in her studio at the moment, and she wanted all signs of him gone. “Goodbye, Colby. Thanks for the sandwiches.”
    â€œYou’re welcome.” He left the workroom and continued through the gift shop to the front door. “See you tomorrow,” he called over his shoulder just before he left.
    She swore under her breath. She didn’t want to see him tomorrow, or the day after. In fact, she was tempted to tell him she’d never sign a lease agreement with Handmade and certainly would never fall in with his personal plans, so he might as well take off.
    As she turned on the computer in a corner of the workroom and started printing mailing labels for the cutter boxes, she thought about her predicament. Saying she wouldn’t sign the agreement because she disliked Colby Huxford would be cutting off her nose to spite her face, as her father used to say. And she desperately wanted this cutter to be a success so that an invention her father hadn’t lived long enough to put into production would become everything he and Ernie had dreamed it could be.
    No, she had to humor Colby along without giving him any encouragement whatsoever that she’d like a more personal involvement. And she’d be wise to take the same approach with Mike, although that would require more willpower. A lot more willpower. She’d spent her nights in an agony of sexual frustration.
    Once the labeling was finished, she returned to her cutting table.