Page 62 of Sleeping with Her Enemy (49th Floor 2)

She waved him over to the table. “It turns out your mom has a lot of thoughts on Kat’s housing situation.”

He pulled up a chair. “What a shock.”

“So I was thinking, maybe we could use your mom for the McQuade development.” She turned to his mother. “I work for a real estate development company. We’re working on a mixed-use development—retail, including probably a couple big anchor tenants, like a grocery store and a movie theater. There will be several condo buildings.”

“And…” Where was she going with this?

“We won’t develop the condos ourselves—that’s not our thing. We’ll sell to other developers, but one of the things we always try to do is make sure we have the right mix of stuff to appeal to the sorts of people who are going to buy the condos. We do a lot of market research.”

“You do?” He’d never heard of that. But then, when he and Jack hung out, they tended not to talk shop.

“One of the market segments condo developers are always after is active retirees.” She beamed at his mother. His father, who had been sitting off in a corner reading, lowered his newspaper. “Your mom is really good at this.” She tapped one of the house ads. “She can see faults I never would have.”

Dax didn’t doubt that. His mother could find fault with the Baby Jesus dressed in christening gown made of flawless diamonds.

“So I was thinking.” Amy turned to address his mother directly. “Maybe you could come and look at the site, give me your thoughts. Then we could visit a few comparable places that are already developed—the Shops at Don Mills, for example. You can tell me what you like about them and what you don’t.”

Holy crap. He knew what she was doing. Damn, she was good.

Then she delivered her final pitch, guaranteed to find favor with his mother. “You’d be doing me a huge favor, actually.”

He knew the Shops at Don Mills. It was exactly the sort of spot he could imagine his parents. Vibrant, lots to do, but no upkeep, no need to drive. So Amy was going to get his mom touring around spots like that, and maybe the stubborn old woman would start to see the possibilities. And because she thought she was helping Amy, the angel who had delivered her grandbaby, she would have the perfect cover.

His mother looked at his father, and Amy shot Dax a wink.

The woman was pure genius. He wanted to kiss her in gratitude.

Actually, he wanted to do more than kiss her.

After some logistical wrangling, his mother bit. They made arrangements for Amy to pick her up next Wednesday evening. “We’ll just do a little bit, so I don’t take up too much of your time,” Amy said. “We can go again the following week.”

He noticed he hadn’t been invited and was about to remedy the situation by barging in on their plans when Amy pushed back from the table and stood. “Thanks so much for dinner—excellent stroganoff once again, Mr. Harris—but I’ve got to be going. It’s been a long day.” She glanced at him but then quickly away. Was it his imagination or did her skin flush a little? When Kat came in wiping her hands on a dish towel, Amy smiled at his sister. “So I’ll see you and Gloria Saturday for the viewings.” Then she turned to his mother. “And you on Wednesday.” She clapped her hands. “Dates with three Harrises this week—lucky me.”

“Dax, drive Amy home,” his mother commanded.

Disconcerted by how quickly everything was moving—hell, disconcerted by the idea that Amy was apparently planning to hang out this coming week with nearly every member of his family except him—Dax stumbled to his feet to obey his mother.

“He can’t drive Amy home and mow your lawn,” Kat said. “I’ll drive her.”

It was true—the lawn came practically to midshin. Because they’d moved dinner to Kat’s place last week, he hadn’t been here for a couple weeks.

Just then Gloria, who had been sleeping in the living room, let loose an ear-splitting shriek.

“You go,” his mother said to him. “Your father can do the lawn.”

“I’m fine!” Amy said. “I was actually looking forward to walking to the subway. It’s such a beautiful evening.” She proceeded to shoot down everyone’s protests as she gathered her things. After they’d gotten out of bed this afternoon, she had changed into a pink floral sundress that was messing with his mind. How could someone who had been so wicked in bed come out the other side in such a demure dress, looking like an innocent Disney princess? The juxtaposition was maddening. It made him want to muss her up.

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