by Patricia Kay
“What’s wrong with him?”
“I told you. He’s too good-looking.” The truth was, Alex looked like he belonged in her sisters’ crowd. The country club, golf and tennis crowd. The Armani crowd. The kind of men P.J. had wanted to get away from.
“Tina says he looks like Colin Firth.”
“Who the hell is Colin Firth?” Irritation made P.J.’s voice increase in volume.
Anna looked at her as if she’d suddenly grown two heads. “You mean there’s a female alive on this earth who doesn’t know Colin Firth?” Her voice was laced with astonishment.
“What is he? A movie star? You know I don’t pay attention to those people.” In P.J.’s opinion, movie stars were only a cut above rock stars, and P.J. considered them the armpit of the universe, with no redeeming social value whatsoever.
Anna sighed. “Honey, Colin Firth is way more than a movie star. He’s the most gorgeous guy to come along in years. He’s British and has one of those upper-crust accents that is sooo sexy. He also has dreamy dark eyes, he’s tall, and he lives in a villa in Tuscany.” She sighed again. “Unfortunately, he’s married.”
P.J. rolled her eyes. Honestly, even sensible Anna could be an airhead at times. “Alex Noble isn’t that good-looking.”
“No? Well, with your ideas about men, I don’t think I can trust your judgment, P.J. I think I’ll have to have a look myself.”
P.J. abruptly stood and began clearing up her trash. “Oh, for God’s sake. Come and drool all over him. I certainly don’t care. Just make sure you don’t distract him from his work.”
“Somebody certainly is testy all of a sudden,” Anna said, giving P.J. a knowing look.
P.J. knew she’d overreacted, and for the life of her, she didn’t know why. All she knew was, she was heartily sick of the subject of Alex Noble.
Alex was beat.
He’d thought he was in great physical shape. Hell, he worked out three times a week at the gym and played tennis at least three times a week. But he had a soft job at the foundation, mainly sitting on his butt. And today, for the first time since he’d spent a summer building houses with Habitat for Humanity, he’d done physical labor, with lots of stretching, kneeling and lifting. He’d used muscles he hadn’t even known he had. So by the time four o’clock rolled around, he was more than ready to leave.
Other than that, he was satisfied with how the day had gone. He found it interesting seeing how many orders came through during his shift and how much work was involved in filling them and getting the merchandise shipped out. Although before he started this job, he’d studied the numbers associated with HuntCom and its myriad arms, actually seeing all the products they manufactured and sold was a real eye-opener.
Whether you worshiped at the altar of money and power or not, you had to admire what Harry had accomplished. It wasn’t as if he’d come from money. Just the opposite, in fact. Alex’s Hunt grandparents had been squarely middle-class. His grandfather Hunt owned a small hardware store; his grandmother had been a stay-at-home mom.
And Harry had been a too-tall, just-this-side-of-weird, geek.
Yet look what he’d accomplished. He’d developed ground-breaking software that had changed the personal computer industry practically overnight and followed that by designing cutting edge hardware that was as good as or better than anything else on the market.
Now he was worth billions.
And he employed thousands of people.
Alex had met a couple of dozen of those people today. Among them several attractive women. Two of those women seemed promising as far as his bride hunt went—one worked in the mail room, one was a picker from a different quad—although he’d have to know more about both of them before he could make any kind of decision. After all, he was talking about the future mother of his children.
Too bad P.J. Kincaid didn’t have a more agreeable personality, because she was definitely the most intriguing of the women he’d met. But she hadn’t even made his short list. He didn’t have time to win over someone who obviously didn’t like him.
She’d certainly made no secret of her feelings. In fact, as the day wore on, she’d seemed to be more suspicious of him rather than less, even though he’d worked hard and given her no cause to look at him the way she had.
What was her problem, anyway?
Why did she seem to always be watching him?
Alex knew she’d asked Rick about him, because he’d seen the two of them talking and Rick kept glancing Alex’s way the whole time. In some ways, this amused Alex, because Rick was obviously not the cloak-and-dagger type. In other ways, it didn’t amuse Alex at all.
Alex didn’t think P.J. could possibly know who he was or why he was there, so why was she acting so weird? Was it because she hadn’t hired him? Did she resent the fact he’d been presented to her as a fait accompli? Alex grimaced. He’d bet that was it. She felt he’d been pushed on her. Well, in that case, maybe he could change her mind about him.
Question was, did he want to?
The minute P.J. closed her apartment door behind her, she began stripping off her clothes. Today more than any other, she felt the need to get outside and work the kinks out. She could hardly wait to put on her running clothes and shoes and hit the park.
A scant ten minutes later, she was in her bright-blue Miata convertible—top down, breeze ruffling her hair—and heading for the Jansen River and the park that had been built along its banks. Washington State looked beautiful in late summer, she thought, with its riot of colorful flowers and lush green lawns. People complained about all the rain they got, but without the rain, the landscape would be as brown as California’s. As she drove along, idly enjoying the scenery, her mind once again drifted to her new employee.
Just as Anna had predicted, throughout the afternoon, at least half a dozen women from different departments at the distribution center had come, on the flimsiest of excuses, to check out Alex Noble.
One of them, Carrie Wancheck, a twenty-one-year-old who worked in payroll, hadn’t even bothered with an excuse. She’d grinned at P.J., saying in a stage whisper, “I just wanted to see the hunk everyone’s talking about.”
“He’s too old for you,” P.J. had snapped.
Carrie’s smile was knowing. “I like older men. They’re usually the best lovers.”
P.J. had had to force herself not to say anything else, because she realized it might sound as if she were jealous or something. Jealous! Nothing could be farther from the truth. She had absolutely no interest in Alex Noble. None. Zero. Nada. But she knew how the women at the center could be. If you said you weren’t interested in someone, they immediately thought you were lying. Especially when the man in question was as attractive as Alex Noble.
So she’d kept quiet and silently fumed instead. Dammit. She needed this kind of distraction in her department like she needed a hole in the head. If they were going to palm off a new employee, the least they could have done was make him homely.
And the women in her own department were the worst of all! Even Ruby, who was only nineteen and a year out of high school, had hung around Alex to the point where P.J. had to say something to her. P.J. had wanted to add that she didn’t think a man like Alex would be interested in a kid with purple spiked hair, five earrings on each ear, and a rose tattoo down her right arm, but despite her appearance, Ruby was a nice kid, and P.J. liked her, so she just sighed and told Ruby to get back to work, then watched the girl skate away.
She was so engrossed in thinking about Alex Noble and the disruption he’d caused today that she almost passed up the entrance to the park.
Hitting the brakes, she managed to slow down in time to turn onto the driveway. Five minutes later, settled into a nice easy jogging rhythm, she finally managed to put Alex Noble and the rest of the irritations of the day out of her mind.
Just as he had taken off his clothes and was heading into the shower, Alex’s cell phone rang. He thought about ignoring it, then sighed, reached for it and l
ooked at the caller ID. It was his sister Julie.
“Hey,” he said. “I hope this doesn’t mean you’re in trouble again.”
“Hey, yourself,” Julie said, her voice filled with amusement. “Why would you assume I’m in trouble? Can’t I just call to say hello?”
“Yes, but you rarely do.”
“Now Alex…is that nice?”
Alex chuckled. Deciding this call might take awhile, he grabbed a towel from the towel rack and, tucking the phone under his chin, wrapped the towel around himself, then sat on the rim of the tub to continue the conversation. “So if you’re not in trouble, what’s up, Jules?”
“I called to invite you to my birthday bash.”
“That’s right. You have got a birthday coming up soon.”
“Don’t pretend you forgot.”
Alex smiled. They both knew he never forgot her birthday. In fact, he’d already bought her gift—earrings and a matching bracelet designed by a local artist who worked in silver and semi-precious stones. The moment Alex had spied the pair set with deep-blue tourmalines, he’d known they were perfect for his sister, whose eyes were an exact match. “So where’s the party going to be?”
“Well, believe it or not, it’s going to be at the house.”
“That’s certainly different.” Usually Julie’s parties took place at one of the many clubs she and her friends frequented.
“Mom insisted.”
“And bribed you how?”
Julie laughed. “I want a new car.”
“A new car?” Alex said in disbelief. “Your Mini Cooper is only two years old.”
“I know, but I’m tired of it.”
Alex mentally shook his head. He remembered how Julie had wheedled when she’d wanted that car. “So what do you want now?”
“I saw this really gorgeous black Lotus—”
“Lotus! Geez, Jules, you’re talking, what, sixty thousand or more?”
“Daddy can afford it.”
“That’s not the point. You don’t need a car like that.”
“Need has nothing to do with it.”
Alex sighed. She was so damn spoiled. There was no doubt in his mind that his stepfather would buy her the Lotus.
“Anyway, will you come to my party?”
“When is it?”
“On my birthday. It’s a Friday, so that works out great. Seven o’clock. You can bring a date, too, if you want.”
“No date.”
“But you’ll be there, right?”
“I’ll be there.”
“Mom’ll be happy.”
Alex grunted. His mother had been attempting for a long time to get back into his good graces, but no matter how she tried to make it up to him, Alex found it almost impossible to forget that when he was only two years old, she’d given custody of him to Harry.
Hell, every single one of Harry’s wives had sold out for money. Although he and his half-brothers rarely talked about it, Alex couldn’t help but think Justin, J.T. and Gray had been just as affected by their mothers’ abandonment as Alex had. Because what else could you call it when your mother took money in exchange for giving sole custody of you to your father?
At least Alex, as the next to youngest, had only had to get used to one stepmother—Justin’s mother—and she hadn’t lasted all that long. Gray, on the other hand, had gone through three stepmothers, all of whom had a short shelf life with Harry. No wonder Gray was so mistrustful of women.
It was pretty sad, but the only stable female influence in their lives was their Aunt Cornelia. And she wasn’t technically their aunt at all, even though they’d referred to her that way all their lives. She was actually the widow of Harry’s best friend, and it was Alex’s private belief that Harry had been in love with Cornelia for years.
As Julie continued to chatter excitedly about the car she coveted, Alex wondered if it would do any good for him to talk to his stepfather about her. Alex didn’t want his sister to turn out like their mother, and indulging her the way her father did wouldn’t encourage her to be any different.
But as much as he wanted to do something, he knew he’d better not. Terrence would get his hackles up if Alex said anything to him. No sense causing any more tension in the family.
When Julie wound down, they said their goodbyes—Julie exacting one more promise from Alex that he’d be at her party—and Alex tossed the towel he’d been wearing onto the towel rack. He started to step into the tub when he suddenly changed his mind. Even though he was tired, he knew he’d feel better if he got some real exercise today. Something to unkink his muscles and blow the stink off. After that he could come home and shower and crash with a beer and dinner.
Twenty minutes later, dressed in shorts, a Coldplay T-shirt Julie had given him along with their newest CD, and his cross-trainers, he pulled into Jansen Park. Although running wasn’t his favorite activity, in the absence of a tennis partner, it would do. He still hadn’t found a gym to join, but he hoped to remedy that soon, too.
He was about halfway through his run when one of the runners coming toward him from the opposite direction looked familiar to him. As she got closer, he realized it was his boss, the prickly P.J. Kincaid.
Well, well.
His gaze took in the riot of red hair inadequately held back by a sweatband, her perspiration-soaked white T-shirt that had molded to her rounded breasts, the navy-blue running shorts that showed off her nice firm butt, and her long, shapely legs with their well-defined calf muscles. Prickly or not, she sure was easy on the eyes.
He knew the exact moment when she realized who he was. Her eyes widened, her nice, even rhythm faltered, and she nearly stumbled.
Recovering quickly, she stopped, and when her breathing had slowed enough to speak, she said, “Hello, Alex.”
“Hi.” Alex mopped his brow with the towel he’d thrown around his neck.
“So you’re a runner, are you?”
Damn, those blue eyes of hers were unnerving. “Not much of one, I’m afraid.”
She shrugged. “You’re here.”
“I need the exercise. You run here a lot?”
“Every day.”
No wonder she looked as good as she did. “How far does this trail go?” he asked to distract himself from just how good she looked.
“If you go all the way around, it’s exactly five miles.” Now her gaze held a challenge. “You plan to do the whole trail?”
“I thought I would,” he said, although he hadn’t planned anything of the kind.
“Good.” She looked at her black sports watch. “Well, I’d better get going. I’m meeting my sister for dinner at seven and if I don’t hurry, I’ll be late.” She gave him a wave as she set off. “See you tomorrow.”
Alex couldn’t help it.
Instead of continuing on his way immediately, he watched her. Yes, she certainly did have a nice butt. In fact, it was one of the nicest butts he’d seen in a long time. It would fit very nicely in a man’s hands.
And those legs!
Alex couldn’t stop himself from imagining those legs twined around a man when making love.
It was at that moment Alex decided maybe he’d forget about playing tennis and joining a gym. Maybe running here in the evenings was a much more sensible choice.
Chapter Three
P. J. wanted to turn around and look back in the worst way. Yet the last thing, the very last thing she wanted was for Alex Noble to think she was interested in him like the rest of those silly women at work.
Because she wasn’t.
Not at all.
But, she thought grudgingly, she had to admit he was good to look at. Idly, she wondered how tall he was. At least six-two or six-three, she imagined. P.J. had always had a thing for tall men. Maybe that was because at five-seven she was on the tall side herself. And the rare times she got dressed up, she liked wearing three-inch heels. She also liked looking up when she was with a man. No Katie Holmes–Tom Cruise thing for her!
Will y
ou stop it? Alex Noble is not in the running as an escort or anything else. Remember that. He’s an employee. Your employee. So even if you were interested—and you’re not!—you don’t date employees.
Ever.
Yet no matter how many times she told herself to stop thinking about Alex, she couldn’t seem to wipe the image of him in those shorts and that T-shirt that defined his well-developed pecs out of her mind.
She thought about him all the way back to her condo. She thought about him as she took a quick shower. She thought about him as she dressed to meet Courtney. And she was still thinking about him as she walked into Mackey’s Bar and Grill in beautiful downtown Webber—which was halfway between Seattle proper and Jansen—at exactly one minute to seven.
Courtney was already there and had secured a booth. She grinned at P.J. and stood to give her a hug. Courtney had inherited their mother’s blond hair and green eyes, whereas P.J.’s coloring came from her Grandmother Kincaid. As always, Courtney looked bandbox perfect in creamy linen cropped pants, a short-sleeved black silk summer sweater, and black espadrilles. P.J. couldn’t help but notice the beautifully manicured toenails and fingernails sporting a summery shade of coral. In contrast, P.J.’s own nails were unpolished and desperately needed work. And her jeans and T-shirt weren’t exactly the latest fashion, either.
That’s what happens when there’s no man in your life, an insidious little voice said. You forget to pay attention to yourself. She couldn’t even use the excuse of her job, because most of the women at the center paid a lot more attention to their appearance than P.J. did.
She and Courtney had barely said their hellos and how-are-yous when their waiter approached. “What can I get you to drink?” he asked, looking at P.J.
“What have you got on draft?” she asked.
He named the brands.
“No Black Sheep?” P.J. had a weakness for good English ale.
“No, sorry.”
“Okay. I’ll have a Guinness.” She smiled at her sister after he’d left to fill her order. “What’re you drinking?”
