Part-Time Fiance. Leigh Michaels

this community of younger people, and who had a little too much time on her hands.

      Delainey had encountered dozens of women like Emma Ashford during her years at the teller’s window. In a backward sort of way, she’d be doing Emma a favor in letting her help—though nothing like the magnitude of the favor Emma was doing for her.

      “Just show me which bedroom.” Emma stood up. “And I’ll take care of the rest.”

      Almost everything about Delainey’s job was new. The promotion had taken her to a higher level of responsibility, with a new title and a new boss, and a new office that was an actual room, not just a cubicle. For the first time in her career she had both a door and a secretary. Delainey hadn’t yet decided which thrilled her more—running a fingertip across the silvery doorplate with her name engraved on it, or having Josie keeping track of the calls she needed to return and the appointments on her calendar.

      When she came in, Josie was printing the day’s appointments list, and she passed it across the desk. “It’s already outdated, though. Mr. Bishop wants to see you in his office right away.”

      Bless Emma Ashford, Delainey thought. Without the woman’s offer, she’d have been sitting at home waiting on a delivery truck instead of being here to answer the boss’s summons. And since it was the first time in a week that she’d done more than exchange greetings with him in the hallway, it would have been a particularly bad day to have been late.

      Delainey gathered up the projects she’d been working on and crossed the hall to the corner office with its view of the downtown skyline. Someday, perhaps, this view would be hers…

      She squashed the thought before it could get out of hand. Concentrate on the job you’ve already got, she reminded herself, and the next promotion will take care of itself. It was a philosophy that hadn’t led her astray in the ten years since she’d first sat behind a teller’s window as a trainee, too nervous about the sheer size of the piles of cash she was handling to worry about anything else. “RJ? You wanted to see me?”

      RJ Bishop ran a hand through his heavy, prematurely gray hair and waved her to an overstuffed chair across from his desk. “Have a seat, Delainey. Time to catch up on what’s been going on. How are you enjoying the job?”

      “I love it, RJ. In fact, I have an idea to run by you when you have a minute.”

      “No time like the present.”

      Delainey took a deep breath. “There are a lot of women in this town who have good ideas for small businesses, but they’re having a lot of trouble getting started. I’ve been thinking about how we could set up a business incubator to help them out. They could have a good address and a private office, but they could share some of the more expensive resources for a while until they get on their feet.”

      There was a tap on the door and another of the department’s staff came in. “You wanted me, RJ?”

      Delainey surveyed the newcomer with interest. She hadn’t worked with Jason Conners before—had barely met him, in fact. When she joined the team, he’d been wrapping up the financing on a venture-capital deal that had kept him out of the office much of the time.

      “Sit down, Jason.” RJ looked at Delainey again. “A business incubator would be a pretty expensive proposition.”

      “Not necessarily. We’d charge rent, of course, and a percentage of the profits.”

      Jason hitched up his perfectly creased trousers and perched on the arm of the chair next to Delainey’s. “If there are any profits.”

      Delainey turned to look him in the eye. “We’d have a high percentage of failures, yes, but one big success would more than make up for a dozen losses. Anyway, the gain for us would be much more than financial. The women who make their businesses work will be loyal to the bank because we gave them a hand when they needed it. We’ll have all their deposits and loans—and a great deal of goodwill, too.”

      “Women only?” Jason sniffed. “It’s hardly worth the risk of being accused of discrimination, RJ.”

      I haven’t missed much, not working with him, Delainey thought. “But I don’t want to take up any more of Jason’s valuable time with that discussion, RJ,” she said smoothly. “We can talk about it later.”

      “Why?” Jason asked. “Afraid I’ll poke holes in your reasoning?”

      “Let’s drop the incubator idea for now, Delainey, and move on to the Bannister deal.” RJ leaned forward. “I want to bring Jason up to speed on what you’ve been doing with Elmer Bannister’s numbers.”

      Delainey pulled the folder from her pile and showed him the projections she’d done on how they could pull together the capital that Elmer Bannister needed in order to expand his factory.

      RJ listened patiently, running a fingertip over the figures. Jason fidgeted.

      Finally, RJ nodded. “It looks good,” he said. “Bringing together Elmer Bannister’s product and that particular group of investors. What do you think, Jason?”

      Jason shrugged. “It’s not bad. I’ll call the investors and make the proposal.”

      “Excuse me,” Delainey said. “You’ll make the proposal? RJ, I put this together. I should be the one to—”

      RJ was shaking his head. “Not this time, Delainey. You could probably pull it off, but—”

      Darn right I could pull it off, Delainey thought irritably.

      “But we don’t want to risk your hard work by putting you on the front line like that just yet. You’ll help Jason when he makes the presentation, get some experience that way.”

      While Jason takes the credit. But Delainey knew that further argument would get her nowhere. “Yes, sir.”

      RJ grinned at her. “I think that’s all then. I’ll let you two work out the details.” He pulled his chair up to the desk and reached for a pen.

      Dismissed, Delainey gathered up her folders. Jason ostentatiously held the door for her.

      As if I’m such a little feminine flower that I couldn’t manage to pull it open for myself. She started down the hall.

      “Delainey,” Jason said. “A word of warning. RJ likes his people to be a team. So the question is, are you a team player?”

      She didn’t look at him. “I’ve never had a problem working in groups, Jason.”

      “Good. Then you’ll be eager to be a part of the next deal I’m working on. Heard of Curtis Whittington?”

      “Hasn’t everybody? What’s the merger king working on this time?”

      Jason laughed. “Cute nickname—but I’d suggest you not call him that to his face when we have lunch with him tomorrow.”

      “He’s in town?”

      “Well, we’re not having lunch by conference call. Unless you’d rather not be on the team?”

      Delainey kept her voice calm. “I don’t have any other plans.”

      Jason laughed. “That’s what I thought. Century Club, one o’clock. In the meantime, do your homework.”

      He strolled off down the hall, leaving Delainey chewing her bottom lip and wondering whether he was setting her up or offering her the chance of a lifetime.

      Her secretary spent half the afternoon at the library, and Delainey went home a little early but with a briefcase stuffed to bursting with reading material about Curtis Whittington. Too bad she’d sworn off fires, she thought absently. It would be pleasant to sit beside a blaze tonight with a glass of wine, reading her way through the stack of magazines Josie had culled.

      For an instant when she pulled up in front of the town house complex, she thought she had been caught in a time warp and flung back to the previous day. A big truck