by Day Leclaire
“You want to be like Reed.” She waited for him to deny it. When he didn’t, she added, “You’ve chosen to work construction sites because that’s what your brother did at your age. Is that it?”
“Yeah. He could, so why can’t I?”
“Will you also return to school the way your brother did? Are you going to get your college degree?”
“Maybe,” he muttered.
“Reed worked hard to build this company. It took a lot of work and intelligence, as well as ambition. And it took schooling.”
Joel confronted her, his face settling into a fierce expression—the mantle of approaching adulthood hardening the boyish contours. “I’m not afraid of hard work. And I’m ambitious, too.”
Angie studied him, aware she’d have to tread carefully if she hoped to avoid antagonizing him. He was so close to becoming a man, his body straight and tall, his shoulders straining to an impressive fullness, his coltish legs hinting at the muscular strength soon to come. He’d begun to shave, too, the downy darkness scraped from his upper lip, but too fine to remove from his cheeks and chin.
More than anything, she wished she had the power to reach out and slow him down, to halt his desperate, headlong rush toward maturity. Unfortunately, a boy like Joel wouldn’t be slowed. Like an eagle fledging from its nest, he’d discovered his wings, had spread them wide and thrilled to his first exhilarating flight of freedom. He wouldn’t be coaxed back into that nest ever again, not when he could ride the wild wind of adventure.
“No one is saying you can’t work on the construction sites.”
“Just not now,” he cut in bitterly.
“Just not now,” she concurred. “Think about something for a minute.... What would happen if you were injured on a Harding job? Reed would never forgive himself. But he’d shoulder the blame, anyway. That’s a terrible burden to put on anyone. And your mother? What would it do to her?”
Joel shoved his hands into his pockets, hunching his shoulders. “She isn’t too good in a crisis.”
“Reed would have his hands full, wouldn’t he?”
“And it would be my fault. Again,” he muttered.
“Again?”
He shrugged without answering. After a few minutes’ thought, he glanced up. “If nobody’ll let me work the sites, what am I supposed to do? How can I prove that I’m capable?”
“First, you need to convince Reed that your interest is sincere.”
“Yeah?” She heard the edge of impatience. “How do I do that?”
At least he was listening. “Which construction project is your favorite?”
“The Wellsby site,” he answered without a moment’s hesitation.
“The one Tiger oversees?”
“He’s the best foreman Reed has. And it’s a really cool building, too.” Enthusiasm lit his angled features and rippled through his voice. “Not as large as some of the others, but complicated. They’re starting to frame it this week. That’s why I wanted to be there.”
“What about working it from this end?”
His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What do you mean?”
“I mean... What about dealing with some of the paperwork? You could work as Tiger’s assistant—order supplies and organize the subcontracting.”
“But I wanted to help build it.”
“Okay... How about this? What if you constructed a working model of the building. While Tiger’s crew constructs the framing, you do the same. You can use copies of their blueprints. And it would be a challenge because you’d have to reconfigure the measurements to scale.”
She’d caught his interest. A hint of excitement burned in his gaze. “Do you think Reed would let me?”
“I’d have to check with him first. But I think I can get his agreement. Fair warning, though. You can’t be on site unless supervised by Tiger or Reed. Still, you’d be learning the nitty-gritty aspects of the business from the best. What do you think?”
“I... I could try,” he allowed cautiously.
Angie held out her hand and grinned. “Deal?”
“Deal with one addition.”
It was her turn for suspicion. “What’s that?”
Laughter sparked in Joel’s eyes as he seized her hand, swallowing it in a man-size grip. “I get to be there when you explain it all to my brother.”
“You agreed to what?”
Angie spared Joel a quick, reassuring glance before confronting Reed once more. He wasn’t an easy man to challenge, his height alone put her at a distinct disadvantage. Combine that with a dose of blistering anger and it took every ounce of poise to stand up to him. “What didn’t you understand?” she asked calmly. “You offered Joel a job, if you’ll remember, and I—”
“No,” he interrupted, planting his hands on his hips. “I do not remember.”
“Well, you did on my first day here. You said—and I quote—‘If you want a job, I’ll get you one. But not on-site. End of discussion.’ And then Joel said—”
“‘What discussion?”’ Joel piped up.
Reed turned his wrath in his brother’s direction. “That I remember. Now haul your carcass off my couch and get that damned dog off, too.”
“Hey, watch it!” Joel reached down and covered up Scratch’s eyes. “He doesn’t like it when people swear.”
“He doesn’t like—” Reed slammed his hands onto the desk and glared at Angie. “This is all your fault.”
She sighed. “Yes, I know. It usually is.”
“Come with me for a minute. I want to show you something.”
Giving Joel an encouraging smile that faded the moment she turned her back, Angie obediently trailed Reed to the office door. He yanked it open and pointed toward a cluster of desks at the far end of the massive room. Employees busily milled to and fro.
“Look at that.”
She peeked around his shoulder, startled at the casual way he dropped an arm around her and drew her forward. Why did she overreact every time he touched her? She’d never had that problem before. It shouldn’t happen, not when her job was to find him a bride. She set her chin. A woman for a bride, she reminded herself, not an angel.
“What precisely am I supposed to be looking at?” she asked lightly.
“Let’s start with Mary Kressler.”
“Pretty dress.”
“It’s red.”
Angie smiled in delight. “No wonder I like it.”
“She’s never worn red before in her life. And check Doris.”
“Which one is she?”
“The platinum blonde.”
“Pretty.”
“Yesterday she was a brunette.”
Angie nodded sagely. “It’s nice to see her admit her mistake and correct it.”
“And see that?”
“Casey waved at us.”
“She has...things attached to the end of her fingers.”
“Um, Reed? They’re called fingernails. Most people have them.”
“Not like those,” he retorted caustically. “They’re three inches long and bright red. The first time she waved at me, I almost called 911. I thought she’d cut herself.”
“I’m sure you were relieved to discover that wasn’t the case.”
“No, I wasn’t. She can’t even pick up a pencil anymore. She’s a damned bookkeeper! What good is she if she can’t use her hands?”
“She’ll get used to them,” Angie soothed.
“You don’t get it, do you?” He scowled. “You’ve only been here a week and already they’re copying you!”
“Really?” She was flattered by the suggestion. “Now, isn’t that sweet.”
“No! It’s like... Like...Invasion of the Body Snatchers or The Stepford Wives.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Mary’s gorgeous in red. It brings out the highlights in her hair. And have you noticed how much she’s smiling? Did she used to smile that much?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Probably no one else noticed, either. But they w
ill now. And Doris hasn’t only bleached her hair, she’s also wearing makeup. And see? That nice man from accounting is talking to her.”
“If that nice man from accounting is talking to her, he’s not working. I pay him to work, not fraternize with my employees.”
“Oh.” Angie lifted an eyebrow in question. “Would you like me to speak to them about it?”
He released his breath in a rough sigh and shot a quick look over his shoulder. “No. It’s just... Now Joel’s fallen under your spell, too.”
She turned to face him, catching the sleeve of his shirt. Didn’t he understand? “I’m only trying to help. You want your brother away from the job sites, right? Well, this will do it. It’ll give him a chance to learn more about the business. Isn’t that your goal?”
“Yes, but—”
“I also had the feeling that he regarded this as an opportunity to prove himself. It’s almost as if...” She frowned as she thought about it. “As if he had to make up for something. Is that possible?”
Reed closed his eyes, his mouth compressing into a grim line. “Yeah, it’s possible.” After a moment, he focused on her, his eyes as bleak as his voice. “He blames himself for an incident that happened a couple years back.”
“Was it his fault?”
“Partially.”
She glanced toward the office, relieved to see Joel engaged in a wrestling match with Scratch. “Then let him make amends. We all need an opportunity to atone for our mistakes.”
He tilted his head to one side, studying her with open curiosity. “Are you speaking from experience?”
Why did it never get any easier? she wondered in despair. Slowly she lifted her gaze to his, knowing her pain couldn’t be totally concealed from someone as discerning as Reed. “I’m speaking from a wealth of experience. Give Joel this chance. You won’t regret it, I promise.”
He took a minute to consider, before slowly nodding. “I’ll have to get Tiger’s agreement. But if he’s willing to go along with it, so am I.”
“I know reconciling Joel and Reed isn’t part of my mission,” Angie said in exasperation. “I don’t need you to remind me.”
Scratch whined as he shuffled in a circle on the couch cushion.
“Don’t be ridiculous! Getting their relationship straightened out shouldn’t be difficult at all. Besides, what could possibly go wrong?” She centered Reed’s appointment book on his now-spotless desk. “It might even help. Keep in mind that if I’m to find Reed’s ‘true love,’ I’ll need Joel’s cooperation.”
“Do you always talk to yourself?” a husky voice interrupted from the doorway.
Angie whirled around to face Joel, then spared Scratch a reproving glance. “You’re supposed to warn me when we have visitors.” To her extreme annoyance, Scratch bared his teeth in half-grin, half-snarl. Da—Darn, but Guardian Angels were uppity creatures. She turned back to their visitor and smiled as casually as she could manage. Not that she fooled him. He was as irritatingly perceptive as his brother. “Oh, hi, Joel. I didn’t see you.”
“So, I figured.” He glanced curiously from Angie to Scratch. “What’s all this about finding Reed a true love?”
Angie edged her hip on the comer of the desk. “It’s supposed to be a secret,” she confessed.
She’d intrigued him with that one. “Really? I won’t tell.”
“You won’t, huh?” She eyed him with open calculation. “Does that mean you’ll help?”
“Find someone for Reed to love?” His eyes dimmed. “Maybe.”
Less than the enthusiastic response she’d hoped for. How unfortunate. “Don’t you think he should get married? To have children?”
He bowed his head and shrugged, his attention focused on a ragged hole at the tip of his right sneaker. “Yeah. I guess. If that’s what he wants.”
Something felt out of kilter, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. “What’s wrong, Joel?” she asked gently.
“Nothin’.”
Something was. And whatever the problem, it sounded serious. “You don’t have to be involved, if you’d rather not. I can take care of this myself.”
He slanted her a quick, belligerent look. “Tell me why you’re doing it. What’s it to you?”
“It’s a job I’ve been assigned.”
“By Reed?”
“Good heavens, no!” She hesitated. “Let’s just say it’s been requested by a higher authority.”
“Oh.” He nodded in complete understanding. “My mom must have sent you. She’s been trying to get Reed married off ever since—” His words dried up and he returned to contemplating the hole in his sneaker. He poked his big toe into the gaping tear. “This woman you choose... Would—would you let me meet her? Let me get to know her before you marry her off to Reed?”
“Well, sure. Since you live with your brother, I think that’s an excellent suggestion.”
His lean frame tensed. “Promise?”
“Absolutely,” she assured gravely. “Although, we’re getting a little ahead of ourselves.” She frowned as she thought about the multitude of problems she faced with this particular assignment. “First, I have to give him a little date training.”
That grabbed Joel’s attention. His chin jerked up. “Date training? Reed?”
Angie slid the rest of the way onto Reed’s desk and jiggled a high-heeled shoe with the tips of her toes. “I know. It surprised me, too. But when I watched him at Sarducci’s with Perfect Pamela he didn’t quite have the hang of it.”
“Oh.” Joel made a face. “That must have been one of Mom’s blind dates. She’s the world’s worst matchmaker. No wonder she brought in a specialist.”
“She didn’t exactly bring me in,” Angie clarified uncomfortably. “Our missions happened to coincide. Will you trust me to do a better job than she’s done so far?”
“He—Heck!” He spared Scratch a sheepish grin. “I could do better.”
“Great. Then you’ll help?”
The shadows invaded his expression again. “Only if you’ll let me check her out first.”
“I won’t break the promise I made,” Angie said gently. “I won’t marry Reed off to anyone without your approval. You have my word on it.”
“Thanks.” The tension dissipated from his body and he glanced at her curiously. “So how are you going to date train him?”
“It’ll be tricky. But I have a plan.”
“Something sneaky, devious and underhanded?”
She grinned. “Absolutely.”
Enthusiasm caught fire, blazing in Joel’s hazel eyes. “In that case, count me in.”
Reed strode into Sarducci’s, silently fuming. This was the last time. Tonight would be the last damn time he allowed his mother to set him up on another blind date. He’d been patient with her obsession to see him married after that fiasco with Emily. More than patient But enough was enough.
“Why, Mr. Harding. How good to see you again so soon.”
“Hello, Rollo. I wish I could say the same.”
The maître d’ rubbed his hands together and grinned. “Ah, but you will. Trust me. You will be most pleased by the end of the evening. Your guest has already arrived. Shall I show you to your table?”
“Please.”
He’d only taken three steps into the restaurant when he spotted his secretary. Angie Makepeace occupied the centermost table again. And as she had since they’d first met, she wore red. This particular dress strained every man’s self-control to the absolute limit. Held on by two fragile spaghetti straps, the low-cut, golden-red silk molded a path from her generous chest to her minuscule waist, the shimmering color gradually deepening in hue as it lapped downward over her body. It reminded him of a fire, the color lighter at the edges, the red tinged with yellows and oranges. But the wide, handkerchief skirt captured the raging hot core of the inferno, flaring outward in streams of deep burned-red.
Great. How the hell was he expected to pay attention to his date when temptation beckoned. He�
��d have to make certain his chair faced away from—
Rollo stopped at Angie’s table. “Here we are, Mr. Harding.”
Reed’s brows drew together. “Excuse me? What do you mean, ‘here we are’?”
The maître d’ cleared his throat, glancing apprehensively from one to the other. “Your date for the evening. It’s Ms. Makepeace.”
“Thank you, Rollo,” Angie interrupted. “I’ll take over now.”
“What’s going on?” Reed demanded in an undertone as the maître d’ scurried away.
She offered one of those smiles guaranteed to ignite dangerous fantasies. With one twist of her full-lipped mouth she burned a searing path straight through to his gut, rousing every raw, primitively male instinct he possessed. He clenched his hands so he wouldn’t be tempted to snatch her from her chair and brand her as his own. Why the hell had Seduction’s handmaiden been foisted on him? And how the devil did he get rid of her?
“Would you like to sit down while I explain?” she suggested.
“What I’d like to do is walk out of here.”
She inclined her head. “It’s your choice. I won’t try and stop you.”
“Wise decision.” He debated leaving, knowing full well it would be his smartest move. But then... When had he ever made the smart moves in life? Swearing beneath his breath, he snatched out a chair and planted himself in it. “Okay, Makepeace. Spill it. What the hell’s going on?”
“It’s a long story.”
“In that case, I suggest you get started.”
She selected a bread stick and snapped it in half, smiling at the pattern of crumbs that scattered far and wide across the crisp white tablecloth. “Do you know... I actually met someone who read bread crumbs the way some people read tea leaves. We used to do it for fun. They form the most interesting patterns. Have you ever noticed?”
“No.”
“try it.”
“Ms. Makepeace—”
“Angie, remember?”
“Angie—”
“Please? Break a bread stick for me.”
She was insane. There couldn’t be any other explanation. Snatching a bread stick from the basket, he broke it in two. Crumbs pelted the table. “Satisfied?”
