It was his second trip to the nightclub. Really, it wasn't necessary, he could have had anybody deliver the invoices and the first few bottles of wines for their tasting, but there was a certain pleasure that DS derived from watching the faces of his clients light up when they tasted the fruits of his land, and the labor of his workers. Stepping inside, he glanced around, pulling the fedora from his head. Briefcase tinkled slightly from the bottles inside. There was an ulterior motive, as well. But he kept that a secret behind his blue green eyes.
Never let it be said that Colby wasn't a hands on manager. She was helping set up the shelves behind the bar, standing at the top of a ladder with her hands braced beneath one of the sturdy glass shelves as the brackets and braces were marked. Her shoes, she'd left at the bottom of the ladder, pink painted toes flashing beneath the dark hems of her jeans as she helped to lower the shelf back down again. Golden brown eyes landed on one Mr Shriver, and she sighed, inwardly bracing herself. "Mr Shriver, how unpleasant of you to stop by."
"Is there a reason you wear such odd clothing?" He remained where he was, as he pursed his lips and his brows tented. "What's wrong with skirts and blouses, fishnets with the seams up the back?" He shook his head; he didn't think he'd ever understand this woman. "You're not a man." With a shrug, he lifted the brief case. May as well get down to business. "Brought the wine for tasting, invoices to be signed. Where's Clyde?"
She looked down at herself, finding nothing to fault with her dark jeans and one-shouldered white top. "Because it's my choice what I wear, and I like it?" she suggested with a grin, resting a hand on her hip as she looked down at him. "I'm aware I'm not a man - you really think I look like one?" She rolled her eyes, smirking cheerfully. He was not going to make her angry today. "Mr Clyde's out of town for the next five days. Business, I'm sure you'd understand." She turned to begin climbing down the ladder, which wobbled ominously and tipped, sending her tumbling off with a low yell.
"In those clothes, yes. You do look like you're trying to be very masculine." He shook his head and set the brief case onto a table. "It's very unappealing and will not attract customers, I assure you." His arms folded across his chest when he learned Clyde was out of town. "Then I suppose you'll have to do." He watched her start to climb down and bit his lip to keep from chuckling as she fell. "Oops. Was I supposed to catch you?"
She landed with a thump, pulling herself to her feet with a scowl for his laughter. "Anyone with any manners would at least have made the effort to stop me landing on my arse, yes," she pointed out, slipping her feet back into her shoes. Despite his insistence, she knew for a fact that her clothing accentuated her figure, and so ignored his attempts at being insulting. "You'll just have to be patient and wait for opening night to see what might attract the customers, then, won't you? And I'll have to do what?"
"If you want to look like a man, and act like a man, you can take a fall like a man." He shrugged his shoulders and lifted the brief case. "Sign the invoices and taste the wine? I had set up an appointment with Clyde. But I can understand his absence. Sometimes business does that." With a nod, he moved forward. "Doing business with a woman is usually bad luck. But, as stated before, you're not wanting to be much of a woman today."
Colby stared up at him, hands on her hips as he approached. "I'm more woman than you could ever handle," she smiled sweetly. "This way, Mr Shriver." With a nod to the workers, she led the way towards the back stairs that led up to the offices.
"You were a frightened school girl yesterday." He murmured quietly to her back as they walked towards the steps, and the offices that they led to. "Or did you lose your memory in the fall?" Coin was pulled from his pocket and he flipped it into the air as they walked.
"You took me by surprise and deserved everything you got, yesterday," she corrected him, jogging up the stairs. "And I have it on good authority that you can't let anything happen to me." Her smirk was smug, but she knew she had him there. Clyde wouldn't stand for any damage done to her.
"As did you." His tone was dark. As he ascended the stairs, he put the coin back into his pocket. "Do you now? And just what is this arrangement that I have been just suddenly made aware of?" He knew Clyde's staff was immediately under his and his men's protection. Her sudden confidence at having the upperhand was amusing.
Colby snorted, rolling her eyes. "Don't even try and tell me you don't know," she shook her head, opening the door to her office and gesturing for him to enter. "After you, Mr Shriver, make yourself comfortable." She wasn't checking him out; of course she wasn't. She just happened to have very lazy eyes today.
"You know, snorting is very rude." He stepped past her, aware of her eyes on him and he squared his shoulders that much more.
For all the faults he pointed out, he kept the compliments to himself. She had a very nice figure, and hair he could imagine running his hands through. A little thin by his standards, but with a lot of potential. If she'd just keep her mouth closed and wear proper clothing, she'd be perfect. He grinned at that thought and lowered himself into a chair.
The brief case was brought up and laid onto the desk. Opening it up, it displayed three bottles. White, red and champagne. He also had two wine glasses and a champagne flute, all wrapped in black velvet. "Shall we get started?"
She followed him inside, closing the door behind her out of habit more than anything, inwardly cursing the little voice that was cursing the fact that his suit jacket came down too far for her to properly admire his backside while he wasn't looking.
Okay, so he'd been grabby with her, but his conduct since that meeting had been nothing but professional towards her person, so she could overlook that as a cultural difference. And hell, she should be allowed to look; no harm ever came from it, right?
Moving over to the desk, she sat in the other chair in front of it, crossing her legs one over the other as she regarded him. "By all means, do get started," she laughed cheerfully, finding his sometimes formal approach quite intriguing.
She laughed. His brow raised as he lifted the bottle of red and a fancy corkscrew. "Um, yes. This goes quite well with the prime rib and beef Wellington I saw on the proposed menu." The cork popped out and he let the bottle sit for a few moments. "You do know the importance of allowing a bottle to breathe first?"
"Yes, I am aware of the importance of allowing a bottle to breathe first," she shook her head with a smile. "I've been working the bar in places like this for years, Mr Shriver. This may be my first time as a manager, but I know plenty about alcohol and how to serve it. But, by all means, do continue to consider me an airhead with bad dress sense."
Never let it be said that Colby wasn't a hands on manager. She was helping set up the shelves behind the bar, standing at the top of a ladder with her hands braced beneath one of the sturdy glass shelves as the brackets and braces were marked. Her shoes, she'd left at the bottom of the ladder, pink painted toes flashing beneath the dark hems of her jeans as she helped to lower the shelf back down again. Golden brown eyes landed on one Mr Shriver, and she sighed, inwardly bracing herself. "Mr Shriver, how unpleasant of you to stop by."
"Is there a reason you wear such odd clothing?" He remained where he was, as he pursed his lips and his brows tented. "What's wrong with skirts and blouses, fishnets with the seams up the back?" He shook his head; he didn't think he'd ever understand this woman. "You're not a man." With a shrug, he lifted the brief case. May as well get down to business. "Brought the wine for tasting, invoices to be signed. Where's Clyde?"
She looked down at herself, finding nothing to fault with her dark jeans and one-shouldered white top. "Because it's my choice what I wear, and I like it?" she suggested with a grin, resting a hand on her hip as she looked down at him. "I'm aware I'm not a man - you really think I look like one?" She rolled her eyes, smirking cheerfully. He was not going to make her angry today. "Mr Clyde's out of town for the next five days. Business, I'm sure you'd understand." She turned to begin climbing down the ladder, which wobbled ominously and tipped, sending her tumbling off with a low yell.
"In those clothes, yes. You do look like you're trying to be very masculine." He shook his head and set the brief case onto a table. "It's very unappealing and will not attract customers, I assure you." His arms folded across his chest when he learned Clyde was out of town. "Then I suppose you'll have to do." He watched her start to climb down and bit his lip to keep from chuckling as she fell. "Oops. Was I supposed to catch you?"
She landed with a thump, pulling herself to her feet with a scowl for his laughter. "Anyone with any manners would at least have made the effort to stop me landing on my arse, yes," she pointed out, slipping her feet back into her shoes. Despite his insistence, she knew for a fact that her clothing accentuated her figure, and so ignored his attempts at being insulting. "You'll just have to be patient and wait for opening night to see what might attract the customers, then, won't you? And I'll have to do what?"
"If you want to look like a man, and act like a man, you can take a fall like a man." He shrugged his shoulders and lifted the brief case. "Sign the invoices and taste the wine? I had set up an appointment with Clyde. But I can understand his absence. Sometimes business does that." With a nod, he moved forward. "Doing business with a woman is usually bad luck. But, as stated before, you're not wanting to be much of a woman today."
Colby stared up at him, hands on her hips as he approached. "I'm more woman than you could ever handle," she smiled sweetly. "This way, Mr Shriver." With a nod to the workers, she led the way towards the back stairs that led up to the offices.
"You were a frightened school girl yesterday." He murmured quietly to her back as they walked towards the steps, and the offices that they led to. "Or did you lose your memory in the fall?" Coin was pulled from his pocket and he flipped it into the air as they walked.
"You took me by surprise and deserved everything you got, yesterday," she corrected him, jogging up the stairs. "And I have it on good authority that you can't let anything happen to me." Her smirk was smug, but she knew she had him there. Clyde wouldn't stand for any damage done to her.
"As did you." His tone was dark. As he ascended the stairs, he put the coin back into his pocket. "Do you now? And just what is this arrangement that I have been just suddenly made aware of?" He knew Clyde's staff was immediately under his and his men's protection. Her sudden confidence at having the upperhand was amusing.
Colby snorted, rolling her eyes. "Don't even try and tell me you don't know," she shook her head, opening the door to her office and gesturing for him to enter. "After you, Mr Shriver, make yourself comfortable." She wasn't checking him out; of course she wasn't. She just happened to have very lazy eyes today.
"You know, snorting is very rude." He stepped past her, aware of her eyes on him and he squared his shoulders that much more.
For all the faults he pointed out, he kept the compliments to himself. She had a very nice figure, and hair he could imagine running his hands through. A little thin by his standards, but with a lot of potential. If she'd just keep her mouth closed and wear proper clothing, she'd be perfect. He grinned at that thought and lowered himself into a chair.
The brief case was brought up and laid onto the desk. Opening it up, it displayed three bottles. White, red and champagne. He also had two wine glasses and a champagne flute, all wrapped in black velvet. "Shall we get started?"
She followed him inside, closing the door behind her out of habit more than anything, inwardly cursing the little voice that was cursing the fact that his suit jacket came down too far for her to properly admire his backside while he wasn't looking.
Okay, so he'd been grabby with her, but his conduct since that meeting had been nothing but professional towards her person, so she could overlook that as a cultural difference. And hell, she should be allowed to look; no harm ever came from it, right?
Moving over to the desk, she sat in the other chair in front of it, crossing her legs one over the other as she regarded him. "By all means, do get started," she laughed cheerfully, finding his sometimes formal approach quite intriguing.
She laughed. His brow raised as he lifted the bottle of red and a fancy corkscrew. "Um, yes. This goes quite well with the prime rib and beef Wellington I saw on the proposed menu." The cork popped out and he let the bottle sit for a few moments. "You do know the importance of allowing a bottle to breathe first?"
"Yes, I am aware of the importance of allowing a bottle to breathe first," she shook her head with a smile. "I've been working the bar in places like this for years, Mr Shriver. This may be my first time as a manager, but I know plenty about alcohol and how to serve it. But, by all means, do continue to consider me an airhead with bad dress sense."