The snout emerged another inch, and the black spread into bright orange. Blake was squatted on his heels, about to feed a wild fox something from his bare hand. The idiot was going to get rabies. “Fine. That’s fine. Gotta go.” She hung up and dashed from the truck.
Blake jumped at the sound of Sadie’s truck door slamming closed.
By the time she reached him, the little red snout had disappeared, and Blake stood shirtless and sullen, looking at her like she’d broken his favorite toy. “What the hell was that? Didn’t you see how close I was?”
She swallowed and forced her gaze to meet Blake’s dead on and not wander over his collarbones. God, his bone structure was ridiculous. “Did you forget what Dale said about approaching wild animals? This isn’t L.A. There’s more to worry about than stray dogs around here.”
He blinked against a streak of sunlight that fell through the trees in a line across his face. “We have mountain lions in Los Angeles. Don’t treat me like I’m ignorant.”
“Don’t do ignorant stuff,” she shot back, frustration from several sources taking control of her mouth. “Ever try to approach a mountain lion? A fox might not try to feed you to its cubs, but their bite can be nasty, like any wild dog. Rabies could be the last of your problems. Literally.”
Blake pressed his lips together like he wanted to argue more but wouldn’t. He dropped his gaze and pushed his big toe into the dirt. “Yeah, it’s kind of stupid, isn’t it?” He let go a sad, tired exhale and looked around, like he couldn’t meet her gaze. “It just seemed like something Jack would do.” He snorted, a self-deprecating laugh.
“Jack? Who the hell is Jack?”
A pained expression took over his face. “Quinn’s husband. I mentioned him. He’s one of those guys, you know. Cool by virtue of their lack of awareness of their inherent coolness. If that makes sense. Cool because they don’t know they’re cool. The kind of guy who’d make friends with the fox in his yard.” Blake shook his head and stepped back, headed for his cabin. “It’s nothing. It’s stupid.”
Pity wrapped around Sadie’s heart. Blake seemed like two people to her—an obscenely good-looking success story but also lost, insecure, and wholly unaware of his true nature. He wasn’t the guy he used to be, obviously. His personality seemed at odds with his history. At least he’d exuded a certain self-disgust and remorse when he’d talked about it. Maybe he didn’t know who the hell he was now, caught between his old self and the person he strived to be instead.
Which would make it close to impossible for Sadie to figure out who he was. “Should I wait in the truck while you get ready?”
Blake made it to the front door and held it open. He finally allowed himself a glance at her. “I made coffee for two.” He stepped inside, then quickly looked back at her. “And his name is Eric.”
Sadie reached the door. “I thought it was Jack?”
Blake smiled, and her stomach fluttered. “No. The fox. His name is Eric.”
Chapter 5
Sadie tucked her hair behind her ear. “You’re up, Lambert.”
Blake politely cleared his throat and leaned against the truck, angling his head against the cloudy sky to look at Sadie through the dark lenses of his retro sunglasses. Dark enough, he hoped, for her to not notice how his gaze kept returning to her bare legs.
To be fair, they were literally in his face. And the way she kept bending over the chainsaw, a lightweight model suited to her small frame, checking this and that, made it even harder to stay focused on what she was saying. “You call your chainsaw Lambert?”
She looked down on him imperiously and replied straight-faced. “That’s his name. What else would I call him?”
If she wanted to name her chainsaw Buzz McChoppy, it was no business of his. He sensed more to the simple defensive reply, but it was hard to gauge Sadie’s current mood.
She’d been a little muted since they left Fox Watch. It made the long drive out to wherever the hell they were mildly uncomfortable. He’d had the view to keep him occupied. Looming rocky cliffs, a rapid, rushing river. Anglers knee-deep in the water whipping their lines across the surface as they fly fished.
Blake scratched his chin. No good. He had to ask. “Everything okay with you?”
She ignored him, hopped down from the truck bed, and hefted the chainsaw, only to lay it on the ground at her feet. She leaped back up to rummage through the diamond-plate toolbox and yank out two pairs of safety goggles and work gloves, then set them aside. The last item she retrieved was a folded pair of thick canvas pants she deftly unrolled and shook out.
She hopped down with her arms full and shoved goggles and gloves into Blake’s chest, which he grasped a second before she let go. “Wes called me this morning.” She laughed. “So did Kennedy, but that’s a whole different pile of steaming crap.”
He grappled with the items she’d handed him. “What did Wes want?” Besides the obvious. His gut reaction to Wes’s not-so-secret desire ran dangerously akin to jealousy. He studiously ignored this.
Sadie slid her legs into the heavy duty pants. She waited until she’d hitched the first strap onto her shoulder. Then she ceased all movement to stare at Blake like he’d said something offensive. “Duncan’s leaving.”
The announcement fell a little flat for him. But the way Sadie glared at him, like waiting for something…
An old memory of Kira, like a flashback from wartime, hit him in the solar plexus. This feeling of uncertainty, this tense guesswork of “name that mood” before he became a target basically summed up their entire short marriage. Every time Sadie started to seem appealing, something about her broke the surface and reminded Blake why his instincts had gone haywire at first sight.
“And?” He made sure to put a good deal of annoyance in the succinct question.
Sadie blinked. “You want the job, don’t you? That’s why you’re here.”
Stunned, Blake nearly laughed, but his ire outgrew his mirth. A realization dawned, something he ought to have caught on to sooner. Suddenly, Sadie’s helping hand made a little more sense. “Is that was this is all about?” He held out the goggles and flopped the gloves around for emphasis. “You helping me out? Taking me to look for a place, lunch last Monday, teaching me the ways of the mountains? You’re trying to find out if I’m a threat to your stupid ambitions.”
Exactly like Kira. Down to the ulterior motives for everything. Blake felt sick with himself for liking her, being drawn to her. Talk about old habits dying hard. He couldn’t kill this one with a machine gun.
She paused in hooking the final strap into place. “Since when is it stupid to desire success?”
Since it had destroyed his life and cost him everything that mattered—things he’d had in his possession all along and been too ignorant to see. “This’ll be the last time I ever explain myself to you or anyone else. If I want Duncan’s job, it’s mine for the taking. I became the most qualified person in the firm the moment I stepped through the front door of Avery & Thorp. But I took a step back in my career for a reason. I definitely didn’t come all the way out here to climb the very ladder I’ve owned the last ten years of my career. Do you want me to carve a tiny replica out of pine and hand it to you in a symbolic gesture that it’s all yours and I’m not interested?”
“You can carve?”
“No, but maybe that’ll be the next thing you offer to teach me out of the kindness of your suspicious little heart.”
A grin cracked one side of her mouth. “I’m sorry.”
It was Blake’s turn to stare. Kira’s apparition had disappeared, and only Sadie remained, looking a little abashed and a tad amused. “You’re right to snap at me. I basically accused you of lying to me when you said you weren’t interested in the rat race these days.” She glanced away and tucked a strand of black hair behind one ear, revealing a tiny glittering stud.
Who wore earrings to go chop down trees? Blake snorted a quiet laugh and ran a hand over his ro
ugh cheek. “Look, I know what it’s like to have a fierce drive burning you up inside. Rest assured, mine has sputtered out. Wes is the only person you have to worry about standing in your way.”
Sadie’s grin faded as she held out a hand for the goggles Blake still had crushed to his chest with one arm.
He handed them over, along with a pair of gloves, and donned his own. “What’s the deal with you two, anyway?”
“Nothing. We don’t have a deal. C’mon, let’s walk up over this ridge and check out the meadow on the other side.” She headed that way, hefting the chainsaw in her gloved hands. “We’re looking for dead standing trees, or ones recently fallen. You definitely don’t want green wood. I mean, it’s fine if you’ve got time to let it season—dry, that is. So, if you wanted to get a good stack for next year, we could. But for firewood you can burn tonight, we need stuff with a low moisture content. I’ll loan you my woodcutting axe until you can get down to the hardware store and pick one up.”
Blake scrambled up the hill after her. His flat tennis shoes slipped on the thick reeds of grass. He needed to pick up a pair of sturdy boots while he was at it, eying Sadie’s thick-soled boots with deep treads. “Why do I need an axe if you have a chainsaw?”
She glanced over her shoulder. The twist of her body, even in the shapeless drab coveralls, was overtly female. “This is but the first step, my handsome apprentice. We cut a tree down into thick logs. Then we use an axe to split the logs into firewood that fits into your tiny stove. Usually, I pay my neighbor’s kid to chop mine for me, but it’s for the best you learn how before hiring it out. Once you’ve got a good supply, I’ll teach you how to properly start a fire so you don’t freeze to death over the winter.”
“Handsome, huh?” He looked up in time to catch the blush on her cheeks before she faced forward again and crested the small ridge.
“It’s the scruff,” she said over her shoulder, her face out of view. “I have a thing for scruff. Not a full beard. That’s far too mountain man, even for me. But a hint of roughness over a smooth surface holds a certain appeal.” She stood next to a fallen tree, set the chainsaw on the ground, and glanced at him through the thick goggles. “Don’t you think?”
With a sharp tug on the pull-string, Lambert roared to life.
She struck a mesmerizing figure—earrings glinting, calling his gaze to the shape of her jaw and the slope of her neck, rough coveralls conforming loosely to her feminine shape, goggles wrapped across her eyes, her mouth caught in a slight grimace of strain as she muscled the chainsaw into place, the biceps on her small arms flexing, and her legs braced on either side of the fallen tree as she deftly went about the task.
Yes, actually, he did agree. Definitely, a certain appeal.
Later, while they loaded the heavy barrel-sized chunks of dissected wood into the truck, Blake mused aloud, “I don’t know. I find a little grit beneath a polished exterior equally alluring.” He avoided meeting her gaze but didn’t miss the small grin that crept across her lips.
* * * *
Kennedy’s attitude had done a one eighty since last week. She dropped two bright orange file folders onto Blake’s desk, her mouth a flat, unpleasant line and her eyes hooded.
Blake cleared his throat before she could disappear. “Is there a problem?”
She stopped abruptly but didn’t turn around. She kept her hand on the doorknob. “No, sir. Everything’s peachy.”
Why did women do that? Pretend everything was gravy when it clearly wasn’t? “Have a seat please.” The words formed a request, but his tone pulled rank.
With a moan, Kennedy turned around, issued a massive eye roll, and slumped into a chair across from Blake. “What?”
It came close enough to snappish to test his patience. He sat forward and folded his hands together. “Ms. Hale, I would suggest approaching this conversation with a different attitude.”
Her shoulders squared, and surprise widened her eyes.
He had her attention now. He wished it hadn’t come at the cost of implied threats. “I’ve never had a secretary I didn’t highly value. A good secretary makes all the difference in the world, and if you don’t think so, ask me or Mr. Perry to go without ours for a day. You’re good at your job. After what I’ve seen from the mess Henry left behind, you were instrumental in keeping major mistakes from happening on his end. I’m sure he’d be grateful if he realized to what extent he relied on you.”
She said nothing but seemed to freeze, like she’d been caught at something.
“If you have an issue with me, I’d appreciate you coming to me directly. If you aren’t comfortable doing that, take your concern to Duncan and allow him to mediate. I have to know what the problem is before I can find a solution. And there must be a solution, because you and I need to work together as an effective team.”
Kennedy’s eyes grew wet and her lips trembled.
Oh, no. Crap, crap, crap. He hadn’t meant to make her cry. He’d just wanted to get her out of her funk. “I didn’t mean—maybe this is an issue for Duncan. I’ll get him in here.”
Before Blake could reach for the phone, Kennedy waved him away and shook her head. “No, no, it’s fine. I’m okay.” She ran a pinky beneath her eyelashes, smearing her eyeliner in the process. “Just no one’s ever noticed before! Henry, that old toad. He was a walking disaster. He couldn’t see well, and I was over his shoulder constantly, making sure he had correct figures. I even had Amanda question me on the Wite-Out supply because I burned through it like you wouldn’t believe. And I couldn’t tell anyone. Not without hurting Henry.” She sniffed.
Blake opened the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out an unopened box of tissues. He handed it to Kennedy, who took it with a trembling hand. “You wanted this job, didn’t you?”
She dabbed beneath her eyes. “Did Sadie tell you? Or Duncan?”
“Neither.” Blake reclined, more at ease now that they were conversing with words instead of sobs. “You’ve might’ve gotten it had you been honest with Duncan about how much you covered for Henry.”
She pulled a tissue from the carton and dabbed at her eyes. “Not likely, but I appreciate you saying so. It’s too much of a leap. But maybe when Sadie gets Duncan’s spot, I can squeeze in next to Catalina, huh? I’ve been taking classes. Even bookkeeping wouldn’t be so bad.”
Bookkeeping, huh? “Maybe I could talk to Amanda for you—”
“Why her?”
“She’s head of bookkeeping. Who else?”
Kennedy tilted her head. “You know what I’m asking. Don’t play dumb.”
He peered at his secretary. A little too astute for his tastes, but he didn’t see a way to dodge it since she’d come at him so directly. “I guess Sadie isn’t the only one who’s noticed. Amanda’s my type. That’s all.”
“Not Amanda.”
Suddenly, Kennedy’s deep green eyes held depths Blake didn’t want anywhere near.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
She seemed to recall Blake’s warning about her attitude just shy of executing another eye roll. Instead, she inhaled and pressed her lips together. “Sadie has a history of being interested in men the moment I express a hint of attraction, or, in Wes’s case, keeping her nails dug in to prevent him from moving on. It’s a hobby of hers.” She lowered her lashes, and a coy smile spread over her mouth.
Blake couldn’t decide which side of Kennedy he disliked the most, because so far they were all annoying and problematic. He fought against another weary sigh. He didn’t need to piss her off again. “Kennedy, I’m flattered, but you’re my secretary, and—”
“Not if I get promoted. What would be the difference between me and Amanda then?”
Looks? Personality? Amanda might be on the flat side, but he’d rather be bored than constantly on the defensive.
“I’m sorry,” he said, as plainly as he could state it. “I like Amanda. I’m not interested in you or Sadie.” At least, he wa
sn’t interested in Sadie romantically. She was fun to be around, fun to flirt with, but with her similarities to Kira, Blake only saw disaster in that direction.
Lumping Kennedy with Sadie seemed to take some of the sting out of the rejection. Her chin jutted out, and she ran her index finger idly across the surface of Blake’s desk. “Well, I suppose you feel how you feel.”
Blake scratched his cheek and considered Kennedy. She had more to her credit than her secretarial position implied.
Before she disappeared through the doorway, Blake halted her. “Hey, one last thing. What, exactly, is the deal with Sadie and Wes?”
Kennedy shrugged. “I guess you better ask one of them.” She glanced out the door and into the bookkeeping parlor. “But you might want to wait. Duncan’s about to announce he’s giving the Castley account to Catalina. Wes said he’d hoodwinked Sadie into a lunch date today, but it wouldn’t surprise me if they spent it at Emerg-A-Care getting their bruised egos tended to.”
Blake thought back to his conversation with Duncan about plans for the new high-dollar account both Sadie and Wes were hot to get their hands on. “How did you know about the Castley account?”
This time, she let the eye roll fly. “I’m your secretary, Blake. I know everything you know.”
It struck him she might know a few other things, too. “May I ask how well you know Amanda?” At Kennedy’s playfully tilted head and amused grin, he balked. “Never mind. It’s nothing. She’ll come around once she gets to know me.” He hoped.
Kennedy’s grin turned pitying and made him doubt it. “Tell you what, boss. You buy me lunch, and I’ll give you everything I’ve got on Amanda.” At his obvious consternation, she groaned. “Not like a date. I get it, you’re not into me. Let’s move on. Grab your coat and meet me in the lobby in ten. I’m going to make sure Sadie and Wes leave for lunch without killing Duncan. None of us have time for a murder trial.”
* * * *
“You realize this is all your fault, right?” Sadie ripped into the rib with relish. It felt good to tear something apart with her bare teeth, even if it was already dead and slathered in barbeque sauce.
Running the Numbers Page 7
