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Make-Believe Beau
Keli Gwyn
The Courtship CharadeA draftswoman in a man’s world, Jessica Sinclair’s presence causes a stir as her new male colleagues vie for her attention. And the company manager has an ultimatum: fake a courtship with her boss, Flynt Kavanaugh…or lose her job. But pretending to be smitten with the handsome engineer unleashes a real, complicated attraction—and could reveal the past she hoped to keep hidden.Jessica is certainly the best person for the job. But as their make-believe romance escalates, Flynt knows that’s not the only reason he wants her on his team. However, with his past shrouded by a shameful secret, Flynt has always focused his ambitions on building a career, not a family. Now he has designs on Jessica’s heart, but can they trust each other with the truth?
The Courtship Charade
As a draftswoman in a man’s world, Jessica Sinclair causes a stir as her new male colleagues vie for her attention. And the company manager has an ultimatum: fake a courtship with her boss, Flynt Kavanaugh…or lose her job. But pretending to be smitten with the handsome engineer unleashes a real, complicated attraction—and could reveal the past she hoped to keep hidden.
Jessica is certainly the best person for the job. But as their make-believe romance escalates, Flynt knows that’s not the only reason he wants her on his team. However, with his past shrouded by a shameful secret, Flynt has always focused his ambitions on building a career, not a family. Now he has designs on Jessica’s heart, but can they trust each other with the truth?
“You’re not going to kiss me, are you?”
The idea appealed to him more than he cared to admit. “Not unless it’s necessary, but if I look like I’m thinking about it, Mrs. Monroe is sure to draw the conclusions we want her to.”
“That makes sense.” She moistened those enticing lips, a gesture that made keeping his mind on the conversation increasingly difficult. “I should be going.”
And yet she stood gazing at him. The lantern in the parlor didn’t cast enough light for him to make out her expression, but she gripped his hands firmly, as though she didn’t want to let go. Or was he the one holding her tightly?
He released her, stepped back to a gentlemanly distance and doffed his hat.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yes. Tomorrow.”
He bounded down the steps, expecting to hear the door open and close behind him. He’d reached the street, and yet Jessie hadn’t moved. She stood staring into the darkness with her fingertips pressed to her lips, unmoving.
Award-winning author KELI GWYN, a native Californian, transports readers to the early days of the Golden State. She and her husband live in the heart of California’s Gold Country. Her favorite places to visit are her fictional worlds, historical museums and other Gold Rush–era towns. Keli loves hearing from readers and invites you to visit her Victorian-style cyberhome at keligwyn.com (http://keligwyn.com), where you’ll find her contact information.
Make-Believe Beau
Keli Gwyn
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Remember not the sins of
my youth, nor my transgressions:
according to thy mercy
remember thou me
for thy goodness’ sake, O Lord.
—Psalms 25:7
Acknowledgments (#ulink_fe28bc48-1de6-5c54-b064-8107b37004aa)
Writing is said to be a solitary endeavor, but that is not the case for me. The following people have made valuable contributions to this story, and I greatly appreciate each of them.
My savvy editor, Emily Rodmell, helps me smooth the rough edges of my stories and polish them until they shine.
My agent, Rachelle Gardner, brings her vast publishing experience to play, but she also encourages and supports me along the way.
My writing partners, Anne and Adri, offer valuable input at the earliest stages of a story and enable me to send the cleanest drafts possible to my editor.
My husband, Carl, brainstorms my stories with me and gives me the male perspective.
My mother, Patricia Lannon, a former draftswoman, educated me on her chosen profession and enlightened me on the challenges of being a woman working in a male-dominated field.
My friend Bob Courtemanche, a retired physics teacher who has explored the El Dorado Canal up close and personal, gave me a clearer picture of our water supply system and bolstered my knowledge of fluid dynamics.
My friend Rachael Duke, an accomplished equestrian, answered numerous technical questions regarding horses and horsemanship.
Contents
Cover (#u6c6b1fc4-a2f2-55b2-8ca5-e2c18644a37e)
Back Cover Text (#ubb34593d-0423-550f-9cd0-41b83b531a71)
INtroduction (#u1b7a00db-63b7-5fcd-943a-d8e9983541eb)
About the Author (#u2be9d26f-0ee2-5172-a957-da01238a3778)
Title Page (#u4e70949d-f8e1-5a54-9b12-c16f017eb0f5)
Bible Verse (#uf4efdce6-4a5c-555f-9f47-ab77eb40c4c4)
Acknowledgments (#u2ff9a5a1-ad2a-5d98-90e5-74331efecb0c)
Chapter One (#u45896465-8034-5b94-85b7-1a38e00d1165)
Chapter Two (#ub769064b-0716-5f29-9321-02f07847a8eb)
Chapter Three (#u531e5a6d-e7fd-5703-a00f-6d88331eca63)
Chapter Four (#u915ff4a5-d5c9-510d-84b6-b1a5e8f3e787)
Chapter Five (#u7ccd9bbd-4309-5ef9-a084-42622e161c5d)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_ef0d9a2c-748b-5bbc-becf-153afb45e508)
Placerville, California
June 1874
“I understand your reservations about hiring a draftswoman, but I’ve seen Miss Sinclair’s work, and it’s exemplary.”
Flynt Kavanaugh leaned back in his chair and studied Carter Corbin, seated opposite him behind the expansive desk. His boss’s scowl was so pronounced that his bushy gray eyebrows appeared as one.
“So you’ve said.” Corby, as everyone called the shrewd manager, folded his arms over his ample midsection. His features relaxed. An encouraging sign. “While I don’t cotton to having a woman join the team, when an engineer of your caliber says the lady in question is worth considering, the least I can do is interview her.”
Corby rummaged in his jacket’s breast pocket and produced a silver cigar case. “Don’t get your hopes up, though, son. An impressive portfolio is one thing. Producing quality drawings with the speed we require is another.”
Flynt shrugged off the cautious man’s concerns. Corby might not be quick to embrace change, but he was fair.
Once his boss saw Jessica Sinclair’s drawings, he’d have no choice but to admit she was the best person for the job. If everything Bishop had said was true, Miss Sinclair would have no trouble creating plenty more drawings on par with those he’d sent along with his glowing recommendation. The exacting engineer wasn’t one to exaggerate.
Corby opened his cigar case, releasing the pungent aroma of expensive tobacco, and offered Flynt one of the Cuban cigars. “Help yourself.”
“No, thanks. I don’t smoke.” He didn’t drink, either. Unlike the majority of men working on the El Dorado Canal, he refused to set foot in a saloon, although there were a number of them in town. He’d seen too many lives destroyed by a fondness for liquor and loose living.
Corby selected a cigar and slipped the sterling silver case back into his breast pocket. “You’re a fine leader, Flynt, but it’s possible you’ve shown a lapse in judgment this time. Having a woman around could complicate things.”
“Perhaps, but if she possesses the necessary skills, we’d be foolish to overlook her simply because she wears skirts. Kurt does a fine job as lead draftsman, but he lacks the mathematical prowess for the more complicated drawings.” Flynt needed someone who could take his ideas, perform the required calculations and produce conceptual drawings on occasion, but designing draftsmen were a rarity. That was why he’d invited Miss Sinclair up to Placerville for the interview.
The clip of boot heels interrupted his thoughts. “That must be her.” He jumped to his feet and rushed into the hallway, eager to meet the woman behind the drawings for the first time.
At the sight of Miss Sinclair, his heart broke into a gallop. Bishop had said she was comely, but that was an understatement. Striking would be a more apt description. The rich auburn locks visible beneath her simple bonnet gleamed in the sunlight streaming through the window. Her light-brown outfit was as unremarkable as her hat. It appeared she didn’t go in for the frills many women did. Even so, she would turn any man’s head.
But not his. He had no time for romantic pursuits. His career required his utmost attention. He would treat Miss Sinclair like any other member of his team.
She reached him and stated her business without hesitation. “Good morning. I’m here for my interview.”
He swallowed to moisten his throat, which had become dry. “I, um, figured you were.”
“To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?”
He gazed into the greenest eyes he’d ever seen. They glittered like emeralds, an intriguing sight. If a man looked into them too long, he might say just about anything. “I’m Flynt Kavanaugh, the engineer. Mr. Corbin, or Corby, as we all call him, is the manager. He’s inside.” Flynt tilted his head toward the office to his left.
The self-assured woman stood so close he got a whiff of her perfume. She smelled like spring. An image of picnics among wildflowers came to mind.
“I’m Jessica Sinclair.” She held out her hand, and he shook it. “I look forward to working with you, Mr. Kavanaugh.”
“Whether you will or not remains to be seen. You must complete the interview and land the job first.” He hoped she would, but she’d have to prove herself worthy of the position—and overcome Corby’s reluctance.
She gripped the strap of the cylindrical leather drawing case slung over her shoulder and studied him intently. One perfectly arched eyebrow rose, and her mouth quirked in a quizzical smile he found strangely appealing. “I see.”
“What exactly do you see?”
“A man who feels threatened by an intelligent woman invading his world, which I find odd. I was told you welcomed my application.”
The woman’s confidence could serve her well. “I do. I’ve heard enough to understand you can handle the job. Corby, on the other hand, needs convincing.”
“Oh.” She blinked several times, drawing attention to her long lashes. “Forgive me, Mr. Kavanaugh. I’m not used to a man as open-minded as you are.”
Her willingness to admit her mistake and follow it with a sincere compliment spoke to her character. “Please, call me Flynt.”
“Flint. Like the stone, I presume? A hard edge and useful when one wants to create sparks?” Her lovely lips twitched, as though she was stifling a laugh.
He drew his gaze from the captivating sight. “It’s Flynt. With a Y.”
She smiled once again, but this smile was as warm as the June day. “Well, Flynt with a Y, it’s clear working with you will be full of surprises.”
“Likewise, I’m sure.” Miss Sinclair had spice. Unlike most women he knew, she spoke her mind. There would be no simpering behind fans for her, which was refreshing. He’d witnessed more coquetry in his early days than he cared to remember.
“Since you seem to prefer informality, you may call me Jessie.”
A lovely name for a lovely lady. “Very well. I’ll introduce you to Corby now.” He was tempted to warn her not to be intimidated by Corby’s gruffness, but it was clear Jessie could handle herself.
Flynt made short work of the introductions. He and Jessie settled into the chairs in front of Corby’s desk.
