“Only when it rains.” Keely tried to smile but got no response. “I guess I’ll run along. Nice to meet you.”

When they were alone, Sydney took slow sips of the tepid water. Mikhail hadn’t complained about his own apartment, but she could see from where she sat that the linoleum on the kitchen floor was ripped, and the refrigerator was hopelessly small and out-of-date. She simply didn’t have the energy to look at the rest.

His approach had been anything but tactful, still the bottom line was he was right and her company was wrong.

He sat on the edge of the kitchen counter and watched as color seeped slowly back into her cheeks. It relieved him. For a moment in the hall he’d been afraid she would faint. He already felt like a clod.

“Do you want food?” His voice was clipped and unfriendly. “You can have a sandwich.”

She remembered that she was supposed to be dining at Le Cirque with the latest eligible bachelor her mother had chosen. “No, thank you. You don’t think much of me, do you?”

He moved his shoulders in the way she now recognized as habit. “I think of you quite a bit.”

She frowned and set the glass aside. The way he said it left a little too much to the imagination. “You said you were a carpenter?”

“I am sometimes a carpenter.”

“You have a license?”

His eyes narrowed. “A contractor’s license, yes. For remodeling, renovations.”

“Then you’d have a list of other contractors you’ve worked with—electricians, plumbers, that sort of thing.”

“Yes.”

“Fine. Work up a bid on repairs, including the finish work, painting, tile, replacing fixtures, appliances. Have it on my desk in a week.” She rose, picking up her crumpled jacket.

He stayed where he was as she folded the jacket over her arm, lifted her briefcase. “And then?”

She shot him a cool look. “And then, Mr. Stanislaski, I’m going to put my money where your mouth is. You’re hired.”

CHAPTER TWO

“Mother, I really don’t have time for this.”

“Sydney, dear, one always has time for tea.” So saying, Margerite Rothchild Hayward Kinsdale LaRue poured ginseng into a china cup. “I’m afraid you’re taking this real estate business too seriously.”

“Maybe because I’m in charge,” Sydney muttered without looking up from the papers on her desk.

“I can’t imagine what your grandfather was thinking of. But then, he always was an unusual man.” She sighed a moment, remembering how fond she’d been of the old goat. “Come, darling, have some tea and one of these delightful little sandwiches. Even Madam Executive needs a spot of lunch.”

Sydney gave in, hoping to move her mother along more quickly by being agreeable. “This is really very sweet of you. It’s just that I’m pressed for time today.”