Perfect Partners

People can sense a power struggle going on at the top the same way sharks smell blood in the water.”
    “But there is no power struggle.” Letty watched him anxiously. “I fully respect the fact that you’re in charge and that you’ve been doing an excellent job with this company for the past ten years.”
    “Thanks. Then do us both a favor and don’t interfere with the day-to-day operations. You’ll only confuse people and make them question my authority. Do you understand that, Ms. Thornquist?”
    “Yes.”
    Joel relented when he saw the genuine apology in her eyes. He gave her an encouraging smile. “Now that we understand each other, what do you say we go over this manual?”
    She nodded quickly. “All right. I’ll tell you where I first started running into problems.”
    Joel listened to her with half of his attention at first. It had worked, he thought. He had controlled her without losing command of the situation. The firecrackers were all up in the air again. Like taking candy from a baby. He just had to be cautious, he warned himself. Letty Thornquist was a bright little thing, just as Charlie had once told him.
    An hour later Letty leaned back in her chair and stretched her arms high over her head. The action pulled her blouse free from her skirt again and added intriguing new wrinkles to her gray jacket. “So what do you think about my ideas for the manual revisions?”
    Joel drummed his fingers on the desk, frowning intently at the loose-leaf page of instructions in front of him. His business instincts were now at war with his need to keep Letty’s inquisitive little nose out of company affairs.
    His business instincts won out. She had a valid point, he was forced to admit. Damn it, he should have field-tested the new tent and its manual on a couple of amateurs.
    “Okay, I can see where we might have a couple of problems with the instructions.” A thought occurred to him. He looked up expectantly. “So why don’t I put you in charge of getting the manual corrected?”
    She glowed with enthusiasm. “Sounds like a good idea.”
    “Might as well take advantage of your talents.” The assignment would keep her busy and out of trouble for a while. Idle hands were dangerous hands.
    “Mr. Blackstone?” She cleared her throat, glanced over at the door to be certain it was closed, and then lowered her voice. “I mean, Joel?”
    “Yeah?” He flipped a page in the manual, wondering why he had not paid more attention to it right from the beginning. Novice campers would want the simplest step-by-step instructions.
    “I was just wondering.” Letty tapped a pencil on the desk. “You know I’m moving into my new apartment this evening.”
    “So I heard. Congratulations.” He turned another page.
    “Well, I was, uh, wondering if you’d like to come over for a drink and dinner tomorrow night. To help me christen the place.”
    Joel raised his head swiftly. “What?”
    She blushed, but her earnest eyes held his. “A drink. Or something. A few hors d’oeuvres. Dinner, maybe? Look, if you’re busy, I’ll understand.”
    “No. I’m not busy tomorrow night.” Joel felt his insides clench. He closed the manual with great care. “I’ll bring the champagne.”

    She hadn’t invited Joel over to help her celebrate moving into the new apartment on a whim. She had been thinking about it for days but had almost chickened out after he read her that polite little riot act in her office.
    Letty winced in recollection as she opened the oven door to check on the lasagne. She was mortified to think she had been accidentally stepping on Joel’s toes during the past two weeks.
    He had been running things for ten years. He no doubt felt somewhat proprietary toward Thornquist Gear, and he had every right to feel that way. And she certainly understood the importance of a clear chain of command in any organization.
    But she owned the company, she reminded herself. She had every right to become familiar with its operation. It was her responsibility to do so.
    The buzz of her new phone interrupted Letty’s contemplation of the lasagne. She closed the oven door and snatched up the receiver. Her heart sank as she realized it might be Joel phoning at the last minute to tell her he couldn’t make it.
    “Hello?”
    “Letty, is that you?”
    The cultivated masculine voice was unmistakable.
    Letty frowned. “Yes. Yes, it’s me, Philip.”
    “It’s about time,” Philip Dixon observed. “I’ve been