by Day Leclaire
He didn’t bother with a response. Slowing long enough to drop his shoulder and hoist her over it, he set out toward the construction trailer parked a short distance away. Scratch trotted along behind and released a long, noisy sigh. If an animal could whine in relief, Reed would have sworn the dalmatian did just that.
“What are you doing?” Angie demanded, shoving against his back. “What’s going on?”
“Don’t say a word. Not one single word.”
“Why? What’s wrong? What did I do?”
She wriggled in his hold, her breasts burning a delicious path of fire along his back, while the softness of her silk-clad thighs thrashed between his hands. Both threatened his sanity. His physical reaction hit hard, and he could only hope it wasn’t too readily apparent to the men watching.
“If you value your life, you won’t say anything else until we get in the trailer. And you sure as hell better hold real still or I swear I’ll give these construction workers a spectacle they’ll remember to their dying day.”
To his utter astonishment, she chuckled. “I’m tempted to take you up on your offer. But I’ll resist.” Then she relaxed against his back and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I’m under orders now. No more fun at all.”
Hoots and cheers greeted him as he climbed the four short stairs to the trailer and shoved open the door. Scratch took up guard outside. Crossing the threshold, he dropped Angie to her feet and slammed the door closed, locking it.
The urge to kiss her senseless nearly overwhelmed him. The fact that she stood there, looking deliciously rumpled, didn’t help. He funneled his desire into rage. “What the hell did you think you were doing out here?”
She actually had the temerity to smile at him. “I was coming to see you,” she explained, pushing a tangle of blond curls from her eyes. “I wanted to ask for my job back.”
He wondered if sheer, unadulterated fury truly could cause steam to pour from a person’s ears. If so, it should be jetting out of his. “Hire you again? You’re kidding, right? After that little stunt you pulled, you’re lucky I don’t have you arrested!”
She stared at him, her eyes huge and startled. “What stunt?”
“Let me see now... How about such minor infractions as trespassing.... Coming on-site without an escort. Without a hard hat. And without a clue!” He shoved his slightly battered nose against her more dainty one, not in the least appeased that her big baby blues went cross-eyed in an attempt to focus on him. “Do you realize you were almost killed?”
“Don’t be silly, Reed. I can’t be killed. I’m already—”
“Don’t!” He cut her off with a slash of his hand. “Don’t start that nonsense with me again. If you hadn’t jumped out of the way so fast—”
She shrugged. “Then you and all the other construction workers would have had proof that I’m an angel.”
“You’re absolutely right. If that truck had hit you, you’d have become an instant angel.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I’m serious, Angie. What you did was unbelievably dangerous. Even worse, you’ve left a wake of bodies strewn in your path.”
“Bodies?” She darted for the door. Before he could stop her, she’d turned the lock and stepped outside. “What bodies?” she asked, shading her eyes as she inspected the site.
Reed joined her, grabbing her by the arm before she could wander back into harm’s way. “Start where you first walked in and follow the path of destruction from there.”
Her brows drew together as she looked toward the entrance of the site. “Why is the dump truck driver on the ground?”
“I believe he’s puking his guts out.”
“I’m serious.” She glanced at Reed in concern. “What’s wrong with him?”
“It’s panic resulting from almost running you down.”
Her attention shifted further along the path she’d taken. “And the bulldozer operator? Is he sleeping?”
“No. My men rarely sleep on the job,” he retorted dryly. “I believe he’s unconscious. Either that or he’s had a heart attack after almost decapitating you.”
“He almost—” She swallowed. “It’s a good thing I’m not alive or that really would have hurt.” Before he could respond to that bit of inanity, she pointed. “And...and the cement truck? Is...is that blood on his face?”
“Probably. My guess is that Tiger just finished explaining the appropriate speed in a construction zone to the man. Not that he had to. The poor fellow looks like he lost about twenty years off his life.”
Angie wrung her hands. “If it was my fault, I’m sure Good will restore them,” she said in a contrite voice. For the first time she seemed to notice the deathly silence. She shrank a little closer to him. “Why is everyone standing around staring at us?” she whispered uneasily.
“They’re not all staring. Only the ones able to stand are paying any attention. The dozer operator and cement truck driver are still unconscious. Though Tiger and Joel seem to be on their feet again.”
“Tiger—Where...?” She let out her breath in a sigh of relief. “Oh, there he is. He and Joel are coming over.”
“Do you want me to kill her?” Tiger asked the minute he got within shouting distance. He rolled up his sleeves as though preparing for battle.
Angie’s eyes widened in alarm. “He’s joking, right?”
Reed tilted his head to one side. “No. I believe he’s serious. Are you serious, Tiger?”
“Dead serious. You want me to off her? Won’t take but a second.”
Reed took a full minute to consider. “No,” he finally said with notable reluctance. “Instead, why don’t you track down the security guard. The one who’s supposed to stop people from wandering onto the site. And then I want you to break him into little pieces and drag his butt over here so I can break him into even smaller pieces.”
“You got it.” With a brief glare at Angie, he stomped away.
“I—I guess I shouldn’t have come here.”
“I can’t believe you weren’t run over,” Joel croaked. “I thought you were a goner, fer sure.”
Contrition filled her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Joel. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I really wasn’t in any danger.”
“And why is that?” Reed asked with unmistakable sarcasm. “Because you think you’re an angel?”
“You might say that.” She glanced at Scratch and smiled. “And because I had a guardian angel with me.”
“Get inside, Ms. Makepeace, before I have a riot on my hands.” The words came out with such grated force that she could only stare. “And take the mutt with you.”
“Can I watch Scratch?” Joel pleaded. “I’ve really missed him this past week. I’ll make sure he stays out of trouble.”
“Fine.” Reed jerked his head toward the trailer. “Inside, Ms. Makepeace.”
Without another word, she did as he requested.
“I’m sorry,” she said as soon as he joined her. “I didn’t realize I was doing anything wrong. No one stopped me and—”
“Why are you here?”
“I told you. I came to ask for my old job back.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “It’s been a whole week since I fired you. How do you know I haven’t already hired a replacement?”
She peeked at him from beneath her lashes. “Have you?”
“Yes.” He waited a moment before adding, “As a matter of fact, I’ve hired six replacements in the past week.”
A tiny smile snagged the corner of her mouth. “Six?”
“I had three come and go in one day, alone.”
The smile grew. “I think that must be a record.”
“So I’ve been told. The placement agency is refusing to send anyone else.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m back. Isn’t it?”
“That depends.”
A gruffness shredded his voice—and she noticed, dammit. He could see it in the softening of her gaze and the gentling of he
r smile. He watched for any hint of triumph, for the sly knowledge that she’d won. But it never came. Instead he caught a trace of uncertainty, a whisper of vulnerability. It stole the remnants of his anger.
“It depends...on what?” she asked.
“On whether you’re willing to agree to my rules.”
“Okay. Why don’t you tell me what they are.”
He grinned at that. “Have you forgotten already?”
“Let’s see...” Amusement turned her eyes a sunny blue. “As I recall, the first rule is that you’re the boss.”
He nodded. “That’s right. What I say goes. No discussion. No argument. I win.”
Angie didn’t bother to hide her relief. They were on familiar ground now, back to their old footing. “And rule number two?”
“No interoffice relationships. Remember?”
It was an excellent rule. Perhaps if she’d obeyed it last time, she wouldn’t be in her current situation. “That goes for the boss, too. Right?”
“Especially for the boss,” he retorted grimly.
“And number three... No dogs. Wasn’t that it?”
“I’m changing that one.”
“Really?” She perked up at that. “Scratch is allowed at the office?”
Reed shook his head in disgust. “Since he’s been at the office every damn day since you started, I don’t see much point in trying to enforce that particular rule.”
“So what’s the new one?” She suspected that whatever it was, she wouldn’t like it.
“No talk about angels or wives.”
“Not a problem.” She dismissed his concern with a wave of her hand. “I’ve been told that I don’t have to mention it anymore.”
“Oh, yeah? Does that mean you’re done finding me a wife?”
“It means I’m not going to talk about marriage or true love or potential wives,” she corrected carefully. “Is that a reasonable enough compromise?”
“I guess it’ll have to do. What about this angel nonsense?”
She caught her lower lip between her teeth as she considered. “It’s possible that we can ignore that aspect, too. But I need to tell you something first.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “Go ahead.”
“I spoke with my supervisor and he’s given me one last chance to complete my assignment.”
“What’s your assignment this time?”
“Still you.”
“Tough job.”
“Very,” she said with feeling. “Anyway, Good gave me a rather special gift for you.”
“Generous man.”
“Actually, he is. And compassionate. And just plain kindhearted.”
Reed propped his shoulder against the wall of the trailer. His eyes were awash with shadows, the green and gold muted by the darker browns. “Lives up to his name, does he?”
“In every way. To be honest,” she confessed. “I haven’t met too many men like him.”
“Is there a point to this conversation?”
She’d annoyed him, she realized in surprise. Irritation carved his face into harsh lines. What in the world had she said? All she’d done was compliment Good—Her eyes narrowed. She knew of only one emotion that stirred that sort of irrational anger. Jealousy. But in this case, that didn’t seem likely. She frowned. Or did it? Once upon a time, she’d have known. With Reed, however, her instincts were sadly out of kilter.
An awkward moment of silence simmered between them. Angie cleared her throat. “The point is...” she tried again, “Goodenkind’s given me a gift to pass on to you.”
“Tell him thanks, but no thanks.”
“But...” She stared in confusion. “You haven’t heard what it is, yet.”
“Anything I need, I’ll get myself.”
She scowled at him, thoroughly aggravated. “You said I can’t discuss this angel business with you, anymore. That means, I have to tell you everything now, since I can’t bother you with it later. How am I supposed to do that if I can’t explain about the gift?”
He shrugged. “It’s a dilemma.”
“Reed!”
He shifted his stance, his sudden approach catching her by surprise. “Do you want your job back or not?”
“You know I do.”
“Are you going to agree to my rules?” He towered above her. “Are you going to drop all this BS about angels and wives?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“No.”
Perhaps she’d have an opportunity to tell him about his gift later. Perhaps after a few days he’d listen. She shot him a final, assessing glance. Pushing the issue now wouldn’t work. A wise woman knew when to call a strategic retreat. She’s tackle him later, when he had no other option but to listen. “Then, I agree.”
“In that case, welcome back to work, Ms. Makepeace.”
“Thank you, Mr. Harding.” She tried a smile, hoping it might ease his irritation. “It’s a pleasure to be back.”
To her utter amazement, he slipped a hand around her neck and tugged her closer. “The pleasure is mine,” he said.
And then he kissed her, a hard, fierce stamp of possession. She should have protested. She should have pulled free. It would have been the smart, angelic thing to do. At the very least, she should have stood there quietly and let him take what he so desperately wanted without responding. But she did none of those things.
Instead, she wound her arms around his neck and practically swallowed him whole. Heaven help her, she’d missed him. Missed his touch, his voice, his beautiful kisses. It didn’t seem to matter how many times she told herself it was wrong. Without this man, she felt empty, alone and incomplete. She needed him more than she’d ever needed anyone.
At long last, he ended the kiss. Angie forced her eyes open, gradually focusing on Reed’s face. She ran the tip of her tongue along the swollen line of her lips, watching in fascination as a blistering tension deepened the creases cut into the comers of his mouth.
His thumb traced the path her tongue had taken. “Don’t do that or I swear I’ll take you here and now.”
“I can still taste you,” she murmured.
“Does it taste good?” The question bit, as though it had ripped free against his will.
She didn’t hesitate answering. “Really good.”
“Good enough to try some more?”
She didn’t want to spoil the moment. Nor did she want him to stop kissing her. Unfortunately, her wants weren’t important. She had a mission, whether she liked it or not. She sighed. “As much as it kills me to mention this... We’re breaking rule number two.”
“That’s the nice thing about rule number one. It allows me the luxury of breaking any damn rule I choose.” But her reminder served its purpose. He set her gently from him. “Now get the hell off my site, Ms. Makepeace, before I’m tempted to break rule number two beyond repair.”
She glanced toward the door of the trailer, deciding he’d made an excellent suggestion. She’d already blown one of Goodenkind’s suggestions—that she stop kissing her earthbound boss. If she didn’t want to further jeopardize her assignment, she’d better leave before temptation proved too much to resist. “Should I return the way I came?”
“No!” He took a deep breath. “No. Wait right here. I’ll take care of it.”
Crossing to a microphone dangling near the door, he flipped a switch. “Harding, here.” His voice blasted from a nearby speaker, echoing across the construction site. “Tiger, report to the trailer and bring a hard hat. As for the rest of you... Turn off all engines and step away from your machinery. I’m bringing her out in five minutes. No one is to move until she’s left.”
“Was that really. necessary?” Angie demanded the minute he released the button on the mike.
“Absolutely. And just so there’s no question about it, you’re to stay off of my construction sites unless I’m with you. Understood?”
“No problem. I’m not deliberately trying to cause trouble, you know.”
; “It just follows you naturally?”
She laughed wryly. “You could say that.”
“Ready to go?”
“Is it safe or am I likely to get lynched?”
A flash of his earlier desire sparked in his gold-tinted eyes, coupled with an almost protective look. “Don’t panic. I’ll see you safely off the site.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
He reached for the doorknob and then turned unexpectedly. Before she could draw away, he leaned down and kissed her again. This time the touch was light. Gentle. Hungry. Irresistible. His mouth conveyed all that was left unsaid between them and more. Finally, he released her.
“Welcome back, Ms. Makepeace.”
“It’s good to be back,” she whispered the confession.
Far, far too good.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE next few weeks passed with a speed that left Angie shaken. Every morning she set herself a goal to ignore her attraction for Reed and find him a bride. And every evening, she found that she’d spent the entire day secretly watching him and working harder than she’d ever thought possible to match her boss’s breakneck pace. Neither helped her mission. If she were a suspicious person, she’d suspect Reed deliberately kept her too busy to meddle in his affairs. Not that he was conducting any affairs—at least none that she knew about.
Even his mother left him alone—not setting up so much as a single date at Sarducci’s. Nor had Angie been able to tell him about the wish Goodenkind had granted. She frowned at the stack of correspondence overflowing her “in” basket. If she could just get him to describe the “perfect” woman, maybe she could convince him to wish her into existence. And then this torture would end. Because that’s what her assignment had become—sheer torture.
She didn’t want to find him the perfect woman, she realized with painful clarity. She wanted to be that woman. And the impossibility of that desire ate at her soul.
“I can’t keep this up,” she informed Scratch as she jiggled Casey Radcliff’s eight-month-old grandson on her lap. “I have to get him a wife. And it had better be soon.” She gazed broodingly around the office. “There must be someone out there that he’d be willing to marry.”
Beside her, the dog growled a warning while Kip pumped his chubby limbs and gurgled an incoherent response.
