Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Other Barbara Barrett titles
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
Saved by the Salsa
by
Barbara Barrett
Sullivan’s Creek Series, Book One
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Saved by the Salsa
COPYRIGHT © 2014 by Barbara Kroon
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by Debbie Taylor
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Champagne Rose Edition, 2014
Print ISBN 978-1-62830-413-8
Digital ISBN 978-1-62830-414-5
Sullivan’s Creek Series, Book One
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
To my mother, the late Evelyn Wells,
who passed away shortly before
this book was submitted to my editor, Cindy Davis.
Mom is the one who introduced me to romance novels.
~~~
To my husband, Veryl,
who provided me with hands-on information for
this series about the design, construction and selling
of a residential development in central Iowa
by designing and building our new home in a residential development in central Iowa.
Definitely a man who believes in going the extra mile
to help his wife with research.
~~~
To my children and grandchildren,
who serve as my motivation to excel
and make me believe in the future.
~~~
To my family and friends,
whose company and humor serve
as my breaks from the laptop.
And to my colleagues and fellow members of my RWA chapters, especially Maria Companion,
who helped with some of the architectural research;
you all provide the support and inspiration
to get me back to the laptop.
Other Barbara Barrett titles
available from The Wild Rose Press, Inc.:
AND HE COOKS TOO
DRIVEN TO MATRIMONY
~*~
Her contact information includes her website and blog at barbarabarrettbooks.com and her email address at [email protected].
She’d love to speak to book clubs via the Internet or phone.
Chapter One
“Coming, Lacey?” Senior architect Jack Dalton rushed ahead of Lacey Rogers into the soggy farmland while she still negotiated the gate. Good looks and charm might be oozing through the man, but patience definitely was not his strong suit.
“Any idea why we’re here?” she asked, joining him.
The head of Mackenzie and Associates Architectural and Engineering, Cameron Mackenzie, had summoned both of them with little notice to leave their headquarters in Des Moines and ride with him out to the countryside west of town to view this property. So far, he’d been very close-mouthed about why he wanted them here.
Jack blew out a puff of air and cocked his head. “Client’s a big shot from out of town. Don’t know who. Guess the project’s a residential development of some sort.”
“Oh.” Not much to go on. She thought he’d be better informed, since he was the firm’s golden boy. Or was he holding back? Keep the new kid guessing?
“You were probably invited along on this wild goose chase since you’ve been earning a rep in single-family homes.”
This hotshot knew about her? She smiled to herself, and couldn’t resist asking, “And your part?”
He drew a hand through his gorgeous black mane and rubbed the back of his neck. “I presume it’s something major, which is why I’ve been brought in.”
Ouch! She wasn’t qualified to take on the big clients by herself yet? Probably true, but it still stung. At twenty-six, although she’d been with the firm only two years, she’d done well.
“Are you sure you want to go tramping around out there?” Lacey asked. “It looks pretty treacherous after last night’s storm.” She thanked her lucky stars she’d stashed a pair of jeans and hiking boots in her office. The sloppy field would have made short work of the suede shoes she’d been wearing earlier. Jack, on the other hand, appeared to have been caught off guard in the wardrobe department. Dressed in tan slacks, white shirt, and designer loafers, which probably cost at least half her weekly paycheck, the muck would get him for sure. At least he’d had the sense to leave his navy blazer in the car.
Her question netted her a smoldering glower. She took a step back. “Uh…”
Then, as if a switch had been flipped, the glare decompressed into a warm, chocolate brown gaze. “If you don’t think you’re up to personally surveying the property, you can always stay here on the sidelines.” His honeyed tone didn’t disguise the taunt.
His attitude bordered on the insolent, reminding her of the sophomoric posturing of high school boys who challenged each other to ridiculous feats of stupidity just to prove their manhood. Best dispel any misconceptions he might be harboring about her not being up to the task right now. “I’m definitely ready. But I’m in hiking boots, you’re wearing what appear to be expensive loafers. I was concerned about your ruining them.”
He glanced down, most likely the first time he’d noticed his footwear, and grimaced. “Good point.” He seemed to briefly consider his options, which boiled down to stay or go, then shrugged. “What the heck? They’re only shoes. Let’s go.”
“I’d like to check out these site maps first. A little research never hurts.”
“Waste of time. This is a site inspection, not a test.”
“Don’t you want to know what to anticipate?”
“I’m more a spontaneous kind of guy.” He pivoted and set off.
“We won’t have any reference points if we don’t use these maps,” she called to his fast-disappearing back.
He swiveled around, his dare-you-to-kiss-me lips fixed in a tolerant expression. “It’s a field, Lacey, not a jungle. Fence, dirt, road, north, south. Not much more to take in.”
“There’s a lot more.”
He tilted his head. “You must be under the impression we’re here to actually gather information.”
“But…but—” She had to stop gaping at the patch of dark hair where he’d unbuttoned his shirt. It was hin
dering her ability to form full words.
Sighing as if it pained him to discuss the subject further, he returned, placed a hand on her shoulder and gently twisted her toward the field.
Her shoulder burned from the contact.
“Somewhere back in Site Inspection 101 they probably laid out a laundry list of conditions to check. When the time comes to execute such list, if ever, I’m sure you’ll shine. But not today.”
“Why not?” Get a grip! He’s acting like you’re an intern rather than a colleague.
“The boss is treating this property like his new toy. A cat with a cornered mouse. He likes to play at conquest before he comes in for the kill.”
She moved away from the hand searing its way into her shoulder. “They never taught about bosses with new toys back in Site Inspection 101.”
He rolled his eyes, as if the effort to explain was costing too much energy. “He wants to show it off first. Get reactions from various people, in this case, us, while he’s adjusting to the enormity of the project.”
“He’s afraid of new ventures?”
“On the contrary. Cameron Mackenzie lives to push the envelope.”
She glanced at the maps and other documents she’d hauled along, debating if she could put off studying them until later. “If he’s so anxious for our opinions, why isn’t he out here with us?”
“Said he had a call to make and he’d join us as soon as he’s finished. He’s a master at keeping himself clean.”
“That’s why he’s the boss and we’re the foot soldiers.”
His mouth crinkled into a wry smile. “Foot soldiers, huh? Good one. You’ve learned the first rule of the jungle. Keep a sense of humor.”
Those twinkling, coffee brown eyes made her throat go dry. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
He offered a mock salute. As he did, a strand of dark, wavy hair spilled over one eye. Her fingers itched to put it back in place, but not while this project, whatever it was, was underway. She needed to invest her energies staying one step ahead of him. At least keeping up.
“Take all the time you need with those maps, but this foot soldier can’t wait.”
So much for chitchat. He was off. Definitely didn’t want any more to do with her than necessary. Arrogant know-it-all.
She returned to her papers. This could be her big chance to break away from the firm’s pack of junior architects. Show everyone, particularly one Jack Dalton, she could handle bigger projects. But which way? By relying on her research or modifying her usual fact-gathering tactics to fly with this eagle?
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Jack flailing his arms. Had he stumbled across something already?
He shouted, “Getting messy. Nearly slipped. Stay over there on the side.”
Right, Jack, like you’d be willing to share whatever you learn out there with me. Although well aware of his reputation, both as a top gun architect and a ladies’ man, she wasn’t sure about his sense of fair play. Not ready to bank on it, especially since her presence on this junket clearly irked him.
Why had she really been invited along on this expedition? Senior architects were usually loners. Surely not as Jack’s assistant? She’d proven herself enough to warrant a larger role. But if her assignment turned out to be Girl Friday, could she go along with it? Probably could learn a few things from the guy, but not from the sidelines.
In for a penny… “Messy or not, I want to see as much as I can.”
All six-foot-something of him stomped around, shaking mud off his shoes. When he stopped, his back to her, he raised a hand to shade the April morning sun from his eyes and his white shirt stretched tight over broad, buff shoulders. Wow! She had to remind herself she wasn’t there to scout out the Dalton landscape.
Now or never. She gritted her teeth and plunged into the field, stepping gingerly through the morass. “How’s it going?” she asked with studied nonchalance as she approached him.
Jack kept going, not waiting for her to catch up. Apparently it was now a race.
Moisture-kissed grass skimmed along the tops of her boots, but the ground was still firm. Encouraged, she sped up but kept her eyes planted on the ground, watching her step, just in case.
“Lacey!” Jack’s voice sounded different than the last few times he’d prodded her. More anxious? She lifted her eyes to see what was bothering him only to discover…no Jack. Must have found the drop-off she’d seen on the maps.
She headed the direction of his voice, picking her way cautiously. Where had he gone? Surely she would have seen him climbing the other side by now?
“Lacey!” There it was again, his voice now tinged with a note of panic.
Then she spotted him. At least the upper third of him, the rest was lodged under a huge, felled tree trunk about a hundred feet down the hill. Bits of mud and dead leaves peppered his gorgeous head of hair.
“Jack!”
The man needed help immediately, before the rest of him slipped under the trunk. What could she do?
“Don’t come any farther. Find Cam.” His breathing sounded labored.
No sign yet of their boss. Not enough time to summon him and get back to help Jack before he completely disappeared. Up to her to rescue the Great Dalton.
Thanks to the hiking boots, she managed to get halfway down the incline without mishap. Then her luck changed. She stepped on a wet, leafy branch which, like a slalom, sent her sailing down the rest of the hill directly toward the submerged architect.
“Oh! Oh, no!” All she could get out before she, too, made contact with the tree trunk and slipped under. She landed with a thud, flat up against Jack.
“What the…”
The impact of her landing pushed him farther under the tree. She was almost completely under herself, except for her head and shoulders. One arm was free, but the other lodged against Jack, immobile. His face rested in her chest.
A sea of black mud fringed with green grass and weeds churned around them. The redolent smell was so overpowering it made her want to faint. She attempted to crawl out, but she couldn’t move her legs, which, along with Jack’s body, were wedged tight against the tree trunk. The bark cut into the backs of her legs through her slacks.
Lacey tried to grasp something with her free hand and pull herself out, but all she could reach were wet leaves and more mud. “Oh, Jack, I’m so sorry.”
“Thought…you were…getting Cam.”
“No time. Had to help you myself,” she said to a wayward branch draped over the side of the tree.
She felt, rather than witnessed, his reaction as he shouted into her shirt. “Now we’re both stuck.”
The branch flipped out of the way before she could secure a grip. “Maybe not. If I can worm my way out of here.”
“Push up with your feet.”
She tried his suggestion.
“Ow! You mauled my shin!”
“Sorry!”
“Can that idea.”
Had to find another way. “Okay. Let’s try this. Are you able to move your arms?”
“A few inches, maybe,” he replied. “Why?”
“Are you able to boost me up? Even a little? Then I can reach one of the branches.”
Silence. Was he considering her idea or had he passed out from lack of air? “Jack?” Her voice cracked.
“What?”
“Thank goodness. I thought you’d lost consciousness.”
“If only.”
“So? Can you give me a boost?”
Again silence. Finally, “You don’t seem to appreciate the geography down here.”
What was he getting at? All she was asking for was a little lift.
“Through no fault of its own, my hand is fast becoming intimately familiar with your rear end.”
It wasn’t a branch pinching her backside? “Oh.” Realization shot liquid heat through her lower portions.
“Well?”
If they didn’t proceed, the physical torture of their confinement wo
uld only increase. Did she dare allow his hand any closer to her private areas? She took a deep breath, which initiated a coughing fit from Jack. “Go ahead. We’ve got to get out of here.”
She had to rethink her decision when a shock wave from the increased pressure of his hand on her derriere rolled through her body. Her insides ignited while she quivered with an excitement having nothing to do with impending liberation.
“Lacey? Did it work?” His voice grew even hoarser as his face became buried in her bare abdomen, where her shirt had pulled up.
Still couldn’t reach the branch, and her boots now dug into what must be his thighs. “Just a little higher. I’m close but not there.”
He breathed a one-word response into her stomach. Why couldn’t he shut up? Every time he said something, his hot breath tickled and tantalized in tandem.
Jack didn’t know how much longer he could keep his libido intact with Lacey’s body sprawled over him. Parts of his own body had already rebelled and shown up ready for business.
Every time he tried to speak, he inhaled the scent of lilacs.
Who’d have thought this little blonde fluff ball could turn him on like this? Like he hadn’t been with a woman in months. His body had never reacted so swiftly to one of his other lady friends. Just what he needed. Another female thinking she’d corralled him. Hell. That’s exactly what she had done, though if she’d tried, she never could have intentionally pulled off a stunt like this.
“Jack, is that your cell phone I feel?”
“No.”
“Darn! I thought maybe we could call Cam, if he ever…oh—”
She’d finally caught on.
“I, uh—”
“Don’t squirm. Don’t even move.”
“Got it.”
Great. Now she knew the state his body was in. Last thing he wanted her to figure out. Would she panic or take advantage of the situation?
Though various ideas flitted through his brain, none of them were escape plans. They were stuck here a while, literally, until Cam got bored and came looking for them. Then there’d be another kind of hell to pay. Cam would think he’d deliberately snared the junior architect into this prison. For once, he regretted his reputation as the office lothario.
Why hadn’t he thought to change before making this trek? Even the novice had known enough to wear hiking boots. If he hadn’t been wearing these new tasseled loafers, he might have stood a better chance of negotiating this hill. Instead, a couple steps on the slick ground and he’d sailed pell-mell down the side and right under this monster of a tree. Talk about your slippery slopes. Should have known better.
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