Gift of Gold

around for a while.”
    “But you just got into town?” she persisted.
    “A few days ago.”
    “Then I’m sure you’ll want to study the job ads for a couple of weeks before you make up your mind about employment. I have a feeling something lots more interesting than an opportunity as a dishwasher will come along soon. You might try one of the wineries up in the hills. You look like you might enjoy outdoor work.”
    Quarrel’s eyes gleamed as he looked down at her. For some reason the image of a gilded rapier hilt popped into her mind. Florentine gold beautifully etched on the handle of a blade meant to kill.
    “As it happens,” he explained in his low, shaded voice, “I’m looking for indoor work.”
    Verity began to panic. Something was very wrong here and she was no longer sure she could deal with the situation. The man didn’t actually frighten her, for all his quiet power, perhaps because she sensed that that power was very controlled. But Verity was also certain this was no casual laborer willing to eke out a living at minimum wage. There was too much intelligence in those gold eyes, too much hooded awareness of both himself and the world around him. But the factor that alarmed her the most was her own too-vivid awareness of him. She struggled to suppress it. This man was dangerous. She knew it intuitively in a way she could never have explained with words.
    It was becoming obvious that Jonas Quarrel wasn’t going to take no for an answer, however. She would have to find a more subtle way to get rid of him.
    “I presume you have a resumé?” Verity asked in a quelling tone.
    “A resumé?” He eyed her thoughtfully. “For a dishwashing job?”
    She was onto something, Verity decided in relief. Obviously he did not have a resumé.
    “Well, naturally. You can’t expect me to just hire you on the spot. I’ll need a complete work and education history, including dates of previous employment, names of supervisors, addresses and phone numbers. You’ll have to fill out an employment application, too. I’ll add it to the stack I’m collecting. When I have a lot of them I’ll go through them all and make my selection.”
    “Sounds like a lengthy process,” Quarrel observed dryly.
    “Oh, it is,” she agreed quickly. “Might take a couple of weeks or more.”
    “Is that right? What are you going to do for help this weekend?”
    Verity froze. “I beg your pardon?”
    “You heard me. You need help now. Tonight, in fact. You’re going to be swamped in a few hours.”
    “I’ll make do,” Verity said through clenched teeth. “The managers of the Sequence Springs Spa are friends. I used to run their restaurant. They’ll be glad to loan me someone from their kitchen.”
    “Why borrow temporary help when you’ve got an opportunity to hire the best on a more permanent basis?”
    Verity’s hand tightened on the doorknob. “I had no idea dishwashers took so much pride in their craft. You consider yourself the best, Mr. Quarrel?”
    “Trust me,” he said blandly. “I’ve got more experience and skill in the art of dishwashing and waiting on customers than anyone else who’s likely to show up on your doorstep between now and five-thirty tonight.”
    “What about your handyperson experience?” she demanded, beginning to feel as if she were getting backed into a corner. Time was wasting. She needed to get back to the kitchen.
    “I’m very handy to have around,” he assured her. “I’m capable of just about anything from unstopping a toilet to bouncing a drunk. You’ll see. I’m useful.”
    Verity straightened her shoulders. “I only have a beer and wine license. We do not have a problem with drunks here at the No Bull. Furthermore, I have a plumber I can call if something goes wrong in the restrooms. I don’t know what sort of establishments you’ve worked in before, but it sounds as if your job skills might be better used down at the local tavern. Why don’t you try there? I’ll give you the owner’s name.” Milt Sanderson, who owned The Keg, could deal with this man, she thought. Milt was used to dealing with construction workers, truckdrivers, and similar types.
    “I’d rather work here,” Jonas said simply.
    “Why?” Verity demanded boldly.
    “Let’s just say I’m anxious to improve my lot in the world. I’ve got ambition.”
    “Uh-huh. Let’s just say you try another restaurant, Mr. Quarrel. Don’t bother coming back here until you have a proper resumé.”