by Irene Hannon
Nick had just decided that maybe an apology was in order when the woman across from him took a sudden deep breath, distractedly brushed a few stray wisps of hair back from her face and fixed those green eyes unflinchingly on his darker ones.
“Do you think it might be a good idea if we start over?”
“It couldn’t hurt.”
A quick look of relief crossed her face. She wiped her hand on her jeans and held it out. “Mr. Sinclair, I’m Laura Taylor. And as you’ve already discovered, I own Taylor Landscaping.”
Nick took the hand that was offered, surprised by the firmness of the grip.
“Look, I’m sorry about that,” she said, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the embarrassing water spot. “I guess Jimmy didn’t hear you coming up behind him because of the jackhammer.”
“Maybe not, but isn’t sixteen a little young to be working in a crew like this?” he asked pointedly.
As if to say, can’t you afford more experienced help, Laura thought.
She bit back her first reaction, then shrugged. “I hired Jimmy through Christian Youth Outreach. Have you heard of it?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
She sighed. “Unfortunately, not enough people have. It’s an organization that provides support for young people from troubled homes,” she explained. “A lot of the kids have been abused. Anyway, Jimmy is part of a work-study program sponsored by Outreach. He just works for me part-time, to earn money for college.” She looked over at him, a frown marring her brow. “He’ll need all the help he can get. I’m just doing my bit.”
Nick felt embarrassed now by his question. He took a closer look at the woman across from him. She was older than he’d first thought. Early thirties, probably. A fan of barely perceptible lines radiated out from her eyes, and there were faint shadows under her lower lashes. Although she’d stopped frowning, slight creases remained. She seemed tense and serious, and he had a strong suspicion that she’d worked very hard to get where she was. Yet she still found time to help others. All of which was admirable. But it didn’t alleviate his concerns about Taylor Landscaping’s role in the Regional Arts Center. Hard work was important, but talent and creativity were the critical components. He still had no idea how her company would fare on that score, and he had to find out before he made any commitments.
“Ms. Taylor, I suggest that we defer our discussion about the Regional Arts Center to another time. You’re obviously busy, and—” he glanced at his watch with a frown “—I’m late for a meeting. How about tomorrow at one?”
“That would be fine.”
He withdrew a business card from his pocket and handed it to her. “Sorry for the interruption today.”
“And I’m sorry about that.” Again she gestured vaguely toward his slacks.
“Well, as someone suggested, I’ll just say I had an accident.”
Laura caught the faint teasing tone in his voice and looked at him in confusion. Was this the same arrogant man who had been ranting at them less than ten minutes ago? It didn’t seem possible.
Unsure how to respond, she chose not to. Instead, she reached back and twisted her hair up, securing it firmly under the baseball cap before once more settling the dark glasses on the bridge of her nose.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
Nick was taken aback by her abrupt goodbye, and watched for a moment as she strode back toward her crew. Despite the fact that she’d been unfailingly polite once the purpose of his visit had been revealed, she obviously didn’t like him. His attempt to lighten the mood at their parting had been clearly rebuffed. As he turned toward his car, the jarring reverberations of the jackhammer started up again, and the headache he’d had earlier returned with a vengeance.
The partnership of Taylor Landscaping and Sinclair and Stevens was definitely off to a rocky start.
Chapter Two
Nick turned sharply, swinging neatly into his reserved parking space. As he set the brake, he glanced at his watch with a frown. He was twenty minutes late for his meeting with Laura Taylor, and judging by the unfamiliar, older-model hatchback in the small parking lot, she was waiting for him.
For some odd reason, he still felt off balance from their meeting the previous day. From the moment he’d arrived at the job site, things had gone wrong. And being twenty minutes late for their meeting today wasn’t going to help.
Nick strode into the reception area and stopped at the desk to pick up his messages.
“Laura Taylor is here,” the woman behind the desk told him, confirming his assumption about the Toyota’s owner. “I was going to have her wait here, but when you weren’t back at one Jack came out and got her. I think they’re in his office.”
“Thanks, Connie. Did any of these sound urgent?” he asked, waving the stack of pink message slips in his hand.
“No. I told everyone it would probably be late afternoon before you got back to them.”
“Thanks. Would you handle my calls until Ms. Taylor leaves?”
“Sure.”
Nick heard the sound of voices from Jack’s office as he paused at his desk to deposit his briefcase. He couldn’t make out the conversation, but Jack’s sudden shout of laughter told him that his partner and Laura Taylor had hit it off. Good. Maybe if Jack had kept her entertained, she’d be less judgmental about his tardiness. He shrugged out of his jacket, rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white cotton shirt and loosened his tie, flexing the muscles in his shoulders. He wasn’t in the mood for another encounter with Laura Taylor, not after the marathon lunch meeting he’d just attended with a difficult client, but he didn’t have a choice.
As Nick approached Jack’s office, the sounds of an animated conversation grew louder. Through the open door he could see half of Jack, who was leaning against his desk, ankles crossed and arms folded over his chest. But he gave his partner only a passing glance, directing his attention to Laura Taylor instead. She was sitting in one of the chairs by the desk, angled slightly away from him, legs crossed, her attention focused on Jack. Nick stopped walking, taking a moment to watch her unobserved. She was dressed the same as yesterday, in worn jeans and a blue cotton work shirt, her feet encased in heavy tan work boots. The baseball cap was missing, and her hair was once again caught back in a ponytail, the severe hairstyle emphasizing the fine bone structure of her face. Her full cotton shirt was neatly tucked in, a hemp belt encircling a waist that seemed no more than a hand span in circumference. The worn jeans molded themselves to her long, shapely legs like a second skin, he thought as his eyes leisurely traced their contours. It suddenly occurred to him that even in this workmanlike attire, Laura Taylor radiated more femininity than most of the women he knew, freshly manicured and dressed in designer clothes.
Manicures were obviously not part of Laura Taylor’s life, he thought as his gaze moved to the hands that rested quietly on the arms of her chair. He remembered the strength of her handshake, and noted with surprise the long, slender fingers. Her nails were cut short and left unpolished, and her hands looked somewhat work worn. He thought again about her struggle with the boulder yesterday, and frowned. She was too fragile looking for that kind of work. He eyed her more critically, noting that despite her fabulous shape, she bordered on being too thin. The dark shadows under her eyes that he’d noticed yesterday were still there, speaking eloquently of tension and hard work and lack of rest. A powerful, unexpected twinge deep inside brought a frown to his face. Now what was that all about? he wondered, jamming a hand into the pocket of his slacks.
The sudden movement caught Laura’s attention, and her gaze swung to the doorway. The image she saw was not comforting. Nick Sinclair stood frowning at her, and her stomach began to churn. She was painfully aware of the poor impression she’d made on him yesterday, but at least he’d agreed to meet with her today. She couldn’t blow it. She couldn’t! Please, God, let him give me a chance with this project, she prayed silently.
Nick’s eyes locked on hers, and she return
ed the gaze unflinchingly, although it took all of her willpower. Based on his expression, it appeared that he might already have had second thoughts about using her company, she thought dispiritedly. He was an intimidating figure, even in shirtsleeves. The angular planes of his face and prominent cheekbones held a no-nonsense look, and his dark eyes seemed fathomless—and unreadable. At the same time, there was an almost tangible magnetism about him that seemed somehow…unsettling.
Jack, sensing the change in mood, leaned forward to look out the door.
“Nick! Come on in. Laura and I were just getting acquainted.”
Nick tore his eyes away from the deep green ones locked on his. “Sorry about the delay. My lunch meeting took a lot longer than I expected. I hope the wait doesn’t inconvenience you,” he said, turning his attention back to Laura.
Laura struggled to present an outward facade of calm as questions and doubts raced through her mind. Had he changed his mind about giving her a chance? Was her behavior yesterday going to cause her to lose this job? Were his chauvinistic attitudes going to work against her? She struggled to control her inner turmoil, and when at last she spoke her voice sounded cool and composed.
“No. I’ve enjoyed chatting with Jack. I’m just going back to the job site when I finish here.”
“Still one person short?”
“Yes.”
He nodded curtly. “Then let’s try to make this as brief as possible.” He turned back to his partner. “Do you want to sit in, Jack?”
“I’d like to, but I have a two o’clock that I need to prepare for.”
“Okay. Ms. Taylor, why don’t we go into the conference room? There’s more space to spread out the plans,” Nick smoothly suggested.
“It’s Mrs.,” she corrected him, noting that his eyes automatically dropped to her left hand, which displayed no ring. “I’m ready whenever you are,” she said, ignoring the question implicit in his look. She reached for the portfolio beside her chair and stood. “Jack, it was nice meeting you,” she said, holding out her hand. Her voice was tinged with a husky warmth Nick had never heard before, and he noted that they were on a first-name basis.
“My pleasure.”
Nick stepped aside for her to pass, catching Jack’s eye as he did so. Jack grinned and gave a thumbs-up signal, but Nick just gave a slight shrug. Jack might have been impressed with Laura Taylor personally, but Nick was more interested in her abilities as a landscaper.
He followed her down the hall, conscious of a faint, pleasing fragrance that emanated from her hair. Again he felt a disturbing stirring deep within, which irritated him. “Right here,” he said, more sharply than he intended. She shot him a startled look. “Go on in and I’ll grab the plans from my office,” he added, purposely gentling his tone.
She nodded and disappeared inside. He returned to his office, pausing to lean on his desk, palms down, and take a deep, steadying breath. For some reason, Laura Taylor had the oddest effect on him. She seemed so cool and composed, so strong and independent, yet she’d shown moments of touching vulnerability—yesterday when she’d found out who he was, and just now when he’d spoken to her in an unexpectedly harsh tone.
He couldn’t quite get a handle on her. She was a small-business owner, apparently with enough smarts to weather the many pitfalls inherent in that situation. You had to be tough to survive, and he had seen the results of that struggle in many of the women he dated. He was inherently drawn to women who displayed independence, toughness, intelligence and drive. Women who were savvy and sophisticated in the business world, but who knew exactly what buttons to push to turn him on after hours. The only problem now was that these very qualities seemed to make his relationships mechanical, gratifying on a physical level but lacking some essential ingredient.
Lately his thoughts had been turning to a more serious involvement, to marriage and the kind of family Jack had. The only problem was that the women he’d been involved with put their careers first and relationships second. Like Clair. He was beginning to feel as if he was just one more appointment on her calendar. Their dates were always penciled in, and it was understood that if a business conflict arose, the personal commitment would be sacrificed. Nick understood that—he’d lived that way himself for the past ten years—but now he wanted—needed—something more. Once or twice he’d thought about suggesting marriage to Clair, but he’d never been able to bring himself to do it. Because, while he admired her and was physically attracted to her, he knew deep in his heart that she would never put her first priority on their relationship—as he intended to do with the woman he married. As a result, he saw her less and less. She was so busy with her own independent life that he sometimes wondered if she even noticed that he rarely called anymore.
Nick walked over to the window and ran his fingers through his hair, uncertain why his emotional dilemma had surfaced just now, in the midst of a business meeting. He supposed Laura Taylor had triggered it in some way, but he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was those intriguing glimpses of vulnerability, a surprising contrast to her usual businesslike demeanor. That vulnerability wasn’t something he usually saw in the professional women of his acquaintance. Yet she obviously didn’t let it get in the way of her business.
Impatiently Nick walked over to his desk and picked up the rolls of plans. An analysis of Laura Taylor’s psyche was not on his agenda today, he told himself firmly.
Laura was grateful to have a few moments alone. It gave her a chance to compose herself and prepare for her next encounter with the unpredictable Nick Sinclair. She had no idea why he’d spoken to her so sharply just now. But she did know that this job was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and she had to get it. She knew she could handle it—the question was, how could she convince the man in the next room?
As she often did when faced with a question or situation or decision that baffled her, Laura closed her eyes and opened her mind and heart to the One who had guided her so well in the past. Her faith had always been important to her, but only in the difficult years, when it had been put to the test, had she realized how powerful an anchor it could be. It had provided calm in the midst of turbulence, hope in the face of despair. She had learned to accept God’s will without always understanding it, and she knew that whatever happened today was part of His plan for her. All she could do was her best and leave the rest in His hands.
Laura took a deep breath and opened her eyes. The panic was gone, and she felt ready to once more face the intimidating Nick Sinclair.
By the time Nick returned, Laura was bent over studying the model of the Regional Arts Center. She straightened up when she heard him enter, impressed despite herself by the clever integration of contemporary and classical features. “Very nice,” she remarked.
“Thanks.”
With an unconscious grace, she moved around the conference table and unzipped the portfolio that lay there, taking another deep, steadying breath before she spoke.
“I think it makes sense for us to be honest with each other about the possibility of working together. I realize that you probably have no idea of the capabilities of Taylor Landscaping, and based on our encounter yesterday I have the distinct impression that our services are being—to put it bluntly—shoved down your throat. So I thought it might be helpful for you to see some examples of our work. I’ve brought some drawings and photographs of some of our jobs over the past two years. While there’s nothing in here on the scale of the Regional Arts Center, I have every confidence that we can do an exceptional job for you. I’ve also brought a list of all of our jobs since the business began six years ago, as well as a review of my academic and professional credentials.”
As she talked, Laura arranged the contents of her portfolio on the table, keeping her eyes averted from the man across from her. Last night, as she’d prepared for bed, she’d had a chance to think about their encounter yesterday. It had become clear to her that Nick Sinclair was probably extremely uncomfortable with the whole arrangement. If he was lik
e most architects, he had established relationships with a group of proven, reliable contractors. Naturally, for a prestigious job like the Regional Arts Center he would have preferred to use one of those firms. Laura understood that. She also understood that he might still do so, providing he could justify it to George Thompson and the Arts Center board. So she had come prepared. This commission was vitally important to her business, and she wasn’t about to let it slip away without a fight. She carefully finished arranging the contents of her portfolio on the table before she spoke again.
“Now, what would you like to see first?” she asked, looking up at last.
Nick Sinclair’s attention was entirely focused upon her now. His grim expression made her feel uncomfortable, as if he was sure she’d never measure up. She dropped her eyes, a faint flush staining her cheeks.
Nick saw the look on her face and slowly settled himself on the edge of the conference table across from her. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. This project obviously meant as much to her as it did to him—maybe more, he thought, his jaw tightening as he once again pictured her struggling with the boulder.
“Let’s look at some of the photos first,” he suggested quietly.
Laura glanced up, their eyes locked and she saw nothing but sincerity. Maybe he’d give her a fair chance after all, she thought, pulling the photos toward her.
They worked their way through the photos and the designs, and then Nick quickly scanned the list of projects, spending more time on the sheet with her credentials. He was impressed by her background and by the quality of the jobs Taylor Landscaping had done, but he still wasn’t honestly convinced that her firm could handle a job the magnitude of the Arts Center.
