скачать книгу бесплатно
He blinked and took the file. “It’s just Chase,” he repeated, though he was beginning to suspect she was quite clear on the matter and simply didn’t approve.
“Have a good day,” she said in answer.
Unwilling to be so obviously dismissed, Chase opened the file and flipped through a few of the papers. “Your boss is good at what he does.”
“He is.”
He looked over a couple more drawings of the mountain home, then cut his eyes toward Jane. She didn’t notice. She was too busy staring at him again. This time it was his arm that had caught her attention, either his biceps or the ink stretched across it. Somehow he suspected it was the black bands of his tattoo.
His heart thumped in excitement. Maybe Miss Prim and Professional wanted to take a little walk on the wild side. Luckily, Chase was in just the mood to accommodate her curiosity.
“Jane?” he said softly, startling her enough that she jumped.
A blush warmed her cheeks as she turned back to the computer. “Is there something more I can help you with?” Despite her pink face, her voice was perfectly cool.
“Yes, actually.” He closed the file and approached her desk. “How about dinner tonight?”
Although she froze, Jane didn’t look up. “What about dinner tonight?”
Ah, of course. This woman would require something a bit more formal. Fine. He’d play along. “Jane Morgan, would you do me the honor of accompanying me to dinner tonight?” Hell, he even gave her a little bow to top it off.
Jane was unmoved. Literally. Her fingers hovered above the keyboard again. “What?”
“Would you like to go to dinner?”
Her hands finally dropped, banging against the keyboard. “No, I would not.”
Chase wasn’t exactly surprised, but he felt oddly heavy with disappointment, all the same. “Are you sure?”
She licked her lips again and tossed a brief look his way. “Thank you, but I’m sure.”
Damn, her lips were downright sultry now, flushed pink and glistening with moisture. Chase cocked his head. Yeah, her lips were sexy as hell. “Well, if you’re sure,” he said, stalling.
“I am.” Jane took a deep breath, put her shoulders back and began to type.
“Right,” he muttered. “Have a good day, then.” And there was nothing Chase could do but leave.
THE OFFICE DOOR eased closed with a little hiss. Jane kept typing gibberish. She waited, counting to twenty, before she slid her hands off the keyboard and dared a glance at the glass door. The man’s truck was turning out of the lot. She was alone.
Letting out a deep breath, Jane slumped in her chair. “Oh, crud.”
What had just happened?
Despite the scene over lunch with Greg and her mother’s phone call, Jane’s day had been proceeding at its normal professional pace. A rush of calls after lunch from contractors driving back to work sites. The quiet buzz of a well-run workplace for a few more hours. That disastrous lunch hour had hardly put a hitch in her stride.
And then he’d walked in.
The sight of him filling the doorway had shocked the life out of her. He wasn’t big in a body-builder kind of way, but he was tall. Probably six foot three or four, with a wide, solid frame that took up more space in a room than it should. His brown hair was short, nearly a buzz cut, but so thick it looked soft to the touch.
Jane shivered at the thought.
Three solid hours of freedom and she was already thinking about an inappropriate man. She shouldn’t have broken it off with Greg. Greg was educated, ambitious and mannered. He wasn’t big and tattooed. He didn’t drive a dented, dusty truck. He didn’t work for an hourly wage at a dead-end job and wear steel-toed boots and dirty T-shirts that clung to his muscles while he labored.
Her skin tingled and Jane muttered, “Oh, crud” again. This Chase guy was exactly the type of man she didn’t need in her life. The kind of man who made her skin tingle, not to mention other less visible parts of her. No, he was not the kind of man she needed, but he was the kind she wanted. Raw and primal and big.
“I will not be my mother,” she insisted to the computer screen. “I will not be my mother.” The computer stared her down. “Screw you,” she snapped, then glanced around guiltily. She did not use undignified language.
And she did not date men whose biceps were ringed with thick bands of stark black ink like some sort of brutal, ancient warrior.
Jane rolled her shoulders and stretched her neck. “I won’t be my mother,” she murmured one last time. “And I won’t be that girl again.” Then she erased the mess she’d made of her Excel spreadsheet and forcibly turned her mind back to work.
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_78b7d0fb-3b12-5f8c-8eed-6ebee497a828)
JANE’S MUSCLES WERE liquid with exhaustion as she stepped out of her car the next morning. She’d been too anxious and distracted to follow through with her plan the night before. Instead of heading home for a movie, she’d called up her trainer and spent an hour working the heavy bag at his private gym. Then she’d eaten a whole pizza, watched TV until midnight and overslept.
Jane unlocked the office door and rushed inside to drop into her chair. Fifteen minutes late. She was spiraling.
One night on her own and Jane Morgan was sinking low, her facade crumbling like mountains of melting snow in the parking lot.
It didn’t matter that she took care to dress professionally and maintained a manner more prickly than a librarian. It didn’t matter that she refused to show even a hint of friendliness to the dirty contractors and groping developers and sexist engineers, or that she made very, very sure to date only appropriate men…. She hadn’t changed at all.
Jane was still attracted to the same kind of guy she’d dated in high school: tattooed, rough and ready to ride.
“Crap,” she groaned. She’d had a very sexual dream about Chase the night before. And just that dream had gotten her off in a way that Greg hadn’t even approached.
Though, she reasoned to herself, he didn’t seem exactly like the kind of guy she’d once run around with. And he wasn’t exactly the type of man her mother had favored for years.
Despite the fact that his jeans had been creased with age and dingy with ancient dirt stains, he’d smelled of laundry detergent. His hair was cut short and neat, belying the dark curves of a tattoo that curled straight up the back of his neck and disappeared into his hairline. And most important, he couldn’t possibly be an ex-con. Extreme Excavations specialized in blasting. Even if Chase was low on the totem pole, permits for high explosives weren’t handed out to companies that employed criminals.
So, no, he wasn’t exactly like the guys from her past.
Jane snapped from her thoughtful daze and scowled at her reflection in the black computer screen. “Nice standards there, Jane Morgan. Clean underwear and no felony record.” Her reflection glared at her, stern and disapproving. Her neck was straight. Her shoulders rigid. Her nostrils flared with outrage. Until she suddenly slumped in defeat. “I’m a fraud.”
Fraud she might be, but she was damn good at maintaining the illusion. When a car door slammed in the parking lot, Jane snapped straight, banged on the keyboard to bring her computer out of sleep mode and jumped right into the report she’d been working on the day before.
The door opened and she expected to look up and see Mr. Jennings walking in. What she didn’t expect was the man who’d visited her dreams the night before.
But she was cool Jane now, the impenetrable fraud, so she merely raised an eyebrow. “Good morning, Mr. Chase.”
“Hello, Miss Jane,” he countered.
She almost laughed at his joke, and what a disaster that would have been. If he knew she found him charming, he might ask her out again. She didn’t allow her expression to budge. “What can I help you with?”
He held out the folder he’d tucked under his arm. “See? Safe and sound. I’m the soul of responsibility.”
“Mmm-hmm,” she murmured, trying to hide the way he was wreaking havoc on her concentration. His sleeve had inched up, revealing more of the tribal tattoo on his left arm. “Thank you.”
“So…” he said.
She jerked her eyes up from his arm.
“Have you thought any more about it?”
“About what?”
“Going out to dinner with me?”
“No,” she answered as if it were the honest truth. Actually, it was. Dinner hadn’t entered into her thoughts even once.
“Come on.” He smiled at her, his wide mouth curving into a very handsome grin. His dark blue eyes sparkled. “Just dinner.”
“No, thank you.”
“Why not?”
“You’re not my type.” The bald-faced lie fell smoothly from her tongue.
“You sure?” He glanced toward his arm, and Jane felt her pulse leap.
Oh, my God. Had he looked at his tattoo when he said that? She felt her face heat despite her best efforts to suppress the betraying flow of blood. He’d seen her looking.
But those could have been looks of horror, she told herself. They’d meant nothing. Nothing.
Her pulse wouldn’t listen to her. It gathered speed. Chase smiled and put one hand on her desk to lean closer. His gaze fell to her mouth, and she could feel herself breathing too fast.
Last night as she’d boxed, she’d imagined her trainer was Chase. She’d imagined him grabbing her, his hands sliding across her damp skin, his mouth descending with a growl….
Oh, God, her masquerade was crumbling around her. What if she let Chase—
Her cell phone rang, breaking the man-spell she’d fallen under. Jane looked down to the phone, and the display was a bucket of cold water dumped over her head. “Mom” it read, the backlight glowing red in warning.
She stared at it for a moment, skin cooling as each second ticked by. “Yes,” she finally answered him, “I’m sure.”
“Sure about what?”
“I’m sure you’re not my type, Mr. Chase, but thank you very much for the invitation.”
Though his face fell, Chase didn’t look the least bit angry. In fact he pulled a business card from his back pocket and handed it over. “All right, then. Call me if you change your mind. That’s my cell.”
“Thank you.” She meant to drop it in the trash. She really did. But as Chase turned and walked out, Jane tucked his card into her purse. Then she turned off her cell phone and stuck that in her purse, too.
She was working, and the world of rough men and burned-out cars and bad mothers could go to hell.
“I’M SO GLAD YOU DECIDED to meet me,” Lori Love said. “God only knows how long I’ll be sitting here.” She pushed one of her brown curls behind her ear and set her elbows on the bar.
Jane smiled. Lori and Mr. Jennings were very seriously involved, and Jane seemed to have gained a friend in the deal. Still, they weren’t really the type of friends to hit the town together, mainly because Jane didn’t hit the town. She glanced around the dark hotel bar. “I don’t know why you agreed to meet Mr. Jennings here.”
“Oh, I’m smarter than you think. Quinn’s at a business dinner at The Painted Horse. I refused to go, but I’d already agreed to that damn city council party at eight. So we’re meeting in the middle. I get to avoid the boring dinner but still participate in free drinks afterward.”
“Congratulations.” Jane raised her empty martini glass in salute.
“Why aren’t you coming to the party?”
“I wasn’t invited.” Jane looked up in surprise when the bartender put another drink in front of her. Apparently he’d noticed her waving the glass around. “Oh, thank you.”
“Please come with us,” Lori said. “It’s downstairs in the ballroom. You can keep me company while Quinn talks shop.”
Jane considered it for a moment. A party. Drinks. Eligible, appropriate men. Professional and educated. The party would be the perfect place to meet the kind of man she needed to meet, but the thought of doing that tonight, of being professional and conservative and reserved… Jane glanced down at her drink and found it empty.
“Sorry, but you’re on your own,” she said. “No work for me tonight.”
“Damn,” Lori muttered. “Hey, did you read that book-club book yet?”
Jane had talked Lori into joining the monthly women’s group at the local bookstore. “I did. It was really thoughtful and deliberate.”
“Ugh. I thought it was depressing,” Lori said. “I didn’t make it past chapter six, when she went back to her suicidal husband. I dropped it and picked up one of my dirty books instead. The book-club meeting is right before my trip anyway. I’ll be busy.”
Jane felt a sharp stab of envy. Lori was building a life for herself, too, but it had nothing to do with trying to make herself respectable. Lori was stretching her wings, reading erotic novels and going back to college and traveling to Europe by herself. But Lori had been the good girl her whole life. She’d been responsible and respectable. Jane didn’t have that kind of past to fall back on, so she pretended to like depressing books that educated women recommended.
Another small act of fraud that added to Jane’s growing feeling of unease.
Lori nudged her. “I’ve still got that box of naughty stories with your name on it.”
Jane considered the offer for a moment. She’d turned Lori down flat a few weeks ago, but maybe dirty books would be a good outlet for her now. She’d found herself ogling her trainer during that boxing session the night before, and Tom was 100 percent gay. But gay or not, his shoulders reminded her of Chase’s.
“Maybe?” Lori said with a cheeky smile, but then her eyes shifted and the smile turned to a bright grin. “Hey, Quinn.”
Quinn Jennings slid up to the bar next to his girlfriend. “Hey, Lori Love,” he answered, his deep voice sinking to a purr.
Jane nearly blushed to hear it. Here was living proof that a good, intelligent man could throw off sparks with the right woman. Jane didn’t have to settle for safe and boring. She could find safe and spicy, just as Lori had. Then again, Quinn Jennings had never made Jane perk up and take notice. He wasn’t her type. Just as Greg hadn’t been her type and neither had the dentist she’d dated before him or the veterinarian before that.
“Hi, Jane,” Quinn said. “Are you coming with us?”
Lori took his hand. “Nope, she’s going to stay here and get sloppy drunk.”
The couple laughed at the idea, probably unable to imagine Jane being anything less than dignified. Little did they know.
Quinn muttered something about contributing to the cause, then tossed a ten-dollar bill onto the bar. “Another one for her,” he called.
“Oh, no, Mr. Jennings. I don’t—”
But he was already pulling Lori toward the door. “I’ll see you Monday, Jane. Stay out of trouble.”
The drink arrived, and what could she do but drink it? Fifteen minutes later she was cradling Chase’s card in her hands. He had a business card, so maybe he wasn’t just a ditchdigger. Maybe he was a supervisor of some sort. “W. Chase,” it said. His first name must be something horrific. Something like Worthington or Wessex.
Just Chase he’d kept saying, as if he were embarrassed to be called Mister. And he was right, of course. It didn’t suit him.
Jane glanced up, accidentally meeting the eyes of some guy two stools down. When he smiled and rose from his seat, she bit back a groan. She wasn’t in the mood. Not for him, anyway.
