Page 22 of The Playboy Meets His Match
“I’ve been thinking about all you told me. Did anyone question where Dorian was at the time of the murder?” she asked.
“He has an alibi—he was at the Royal Diner. Laura Edwards, a waitress there backed up his story.”
“Another woman in love with Dorian.”
“How do you know that?”
“You only have to look at the two of them together.” Merry took a deep breath. “Why don’t you let me help you catch Dorian?”
He gave her a smile that was as condescending as a pat on the head. “Thanks, but I don’t think so.”
“Why not? It looks to me as if you could use a little help.”
“Your style is a little flamboyant. Right now he doesn’t know he’s under suspicion.”
“It doesn’t have to be flamboyant. I can be subtle.”
“Thanks, anyway.”
Jason was beginning to annoy her again. “If you can get me into Wescott Oil, I can get into Dorian’s computer files.”
Jason lowered his bottle of beer, set it back on the table and gazed at her patronizingly. “In a word—no. Thanks, anyway.”
“You don’t think I can do it,” she challenged.
He shrugged broad shoulders. “No, I don’t. You’re into slashing tires and bursting into private clubs.”
“I slipped out of here without your knowing it and got away with your pickup and eluded you all day.”
“It was the luck of the amateur.”
“Well, it sounds to me as if you guys are suffering the incompetence of the too-well-trained.”
Amusement flashed in Jason’s eyes while he shook his head. “Tomorrow I’ll take you to town with me and buy a new computer. You can help me set it up here in my ranch office. I’ll pay your going rate, of course. Okay?”
“Yes. Now back to Dorian. If you’ll get me into Wescott, I can look at his files and I might learn something none of you know.”
“You can’t get into his files.”
“Hah! It’s an oil company.”
“They have their computer people who are specialists.”
“I can get into his files.”
“You’re mighty confident.”
“I know my abilities and my limitations,” Meredith said, hoping she could live up to her promises, but she thought she could.
The ring of the phone interrupted their conversation and Jason stretched out his long arm to pick up the receiver. He stood and turned his back to her, lowering his voice and moving a few feet away so she couldn’t hear what he was saying.
He turned, glancing over his shoulder at her with a direct, annoyed look.
Dorian. Intuitively, she was certain the call was about Dorian. The man deserved a little upset in his life. If what she suspected were true about him, he deserved far worse than anything she had dealt him.
Jason replaced the receiver and turned to face her, his hands on his hips. “You’re not accomplishing one thing except to aggravate Dorian.”
She raised her chin and refused to bother defending herself.
