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Marc rolled his eyes. “Hot,” he informed her, his voice filled with promise. “Just like my women.”
Sonya sashayed into the storage room and handed Marc a cup of steaming hot coffee. Marc moved closer to her, brushing up against her.
With a sharp intake of breath, Sonya asked, “What did you ask me to do?”
“I’d like to test the machine. Can you make a couple of copies?”
“Oh. Sure. I need some timesheets anyway.”
Reluctantly, she walked back to her desk, got the original and returned. Placing the page on the copier glass, she closed the cover, punched in ten copies and pressed the button that said Copy.
The machine whirred to life for a brief second, until Ryan’s sheet of paper reached the hot imaging area. Instantly, the copier seized, and a vile smell permeated the office.
Sonya’s head snapped around, and her eyes filled with dread. “What did I do?”
“Don’t freak out,” Marc soothed. “Let me see what’s going on.”
He slid out the imager, scowling as he pointed to the smoking drum. “Not good. It’s fried.”
Sonya was practically in tears. “My boss will kill me. Anytime something goes wrong in the office, he blames me.”
“Shh-shh-shh.” Marc pressed his index finger to her lips, then held it up in a one-minute gesture. Whipping out his cell phone, he punched in a number.
Around the corner in their van, Ryan’s phone rang. He hit the talk button. “Yup,” he greeted Marc.
“Hey, Jim,” Marc said in his ear. “It’s John. You know that machine you were going to deliver today? I need you to bring it to me here at Bennato Construction.” A pause. “I don’t care. Fuck ’em. Th
ey’ll get their machine tomorrow.” Another pause. “Fuck Eddie, too. He can kiss my ass. Just bring that copier to me now. It’s an emergency. I’ll handle Eddie.”
Hanging up, Marc turned to face Sonya, who was staring at him, speechless.
Marc gave her a huge, sexy smile, and said, “After this, we’ll work on the other things I can do for you, Sonya. And on the ways you can help me.”
Thirty minutes later, Marc and Ryan left Bennato Construction. Marc had a bite mark on his lips and Sonya’s phone number in his pocket. And the storage room had Ryan’s machine in it. The copier would soon begin to “phone home,” sending Ryan images of every piece of paper that went through it.
“Nice souvenir,” Ryan commented drily, turning from the wheel to indicate Marc’s mouth.
“Shut up.” Marc tore up the phone number and tossed the scraps into the trash container.
“Maybe you should keep that. You could get laid tonight. Hell, you practically got laid ten minutes ago on the new copying machine.” An approving nod. “I guess watching me in action has had a positive educational impact. You really pulled that off. I’ll make sure Casey knows that you’ll make a good backup when I’m otherwise occupied.”
“Don’t do me any favors.” Marc had no desire to fill the role of hot stud. “I do just fine on my own—when it’s for real. But this phony shit is not my thing, even if I am a stellar actor. I only did it this time because seductive ol’ you had to make technical tweaks on your copying machine.” He licked his swollen lower lip. “Damn. She almost tore off a layer of my skin, not to mention smothering me in her breasts.”
“She also had about three brain cells. Not my type either.” Ryan chuckled.
“Let’s just hope we get something off that machine,” Marc said soberly. “The spyware on Joe Deale’s laptop gave us zip.”
“True. We need a quick break. Claudia Mitchell is dead. Where does that leave Krissy Willis?”
“Not just as a kidnapping victim anymore.” Ryan’s jaw tightened.
“Yeah. But hopefully not as collateral damage.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
With a tight grip on his leash, Casey led Hero into the Willis home. The bloodhound’s nose was everywhere, taking in the smells of the house and the scents of the people in it.
“Great-looking guy, Casey.” Grace greeted her in the living room doorway. “I knew you’d come to your senses and replace Hutch.”
