DEFENSE

by Glenna Sinclair

  “No one is out of your league unless you want him to be. At least, that’s my philosophy.”

  Yes, well, this was coming from the girl who dated everyone from the president of the chess club to the star quarterback of our high school football team. She was not incredibly picky about the men she dated. Last week, she went out with a forty-year-old divorcé who cried about his children all through dinner. And she slept with him. Told me it was because she felt sorry for him. And, predictably, she never heard from him again. Probably went back to his wife. But that didn’t seem to faze Lisa. She had a date in less than an hour with one of her customers here at the bar.

  I lifted my drink and swallowed more than I’d intended to. Life really sucked sometimes. I wasn’t looking forward to going home and telling my aunts I’d failed them.

  Lisa touched my shoulder. “Don’t look so down in the dumps, kiddo. Something will happen for you. I have a good feeling.”

  I pressed my hand to hers. “I wish I had your optimism.”

  “You don’t need it. I’m optimistic enough for the both of us.”

  I kissed her cheek as I stood to leave. “Call me tomorrow. Let me know how your date went.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come along? I’m sure he could find a friend…”

  “No, thanks.”

  I walked out of the bar into the cool evening air, a surprisingly mild start to a North Texas summer. I walked slowly down the street, taking small enjoyment from the exercise. I’d been on my feet most of the afternoon, thanks to my job, but it was nice to stretch my legs, and to do it at my own pace without someone yelling at me for taking too long to present them with a latté or a cappuccino. I wished I knew an easy way to get my hands on two hundred fifty thousand dollars. Or just the thirty thousand my aunts were behind. Maybe I could call the bank again, convince them to give my aunts another extension. They were nice. That Mr. Simons really didn’t want to foreclose on two old ladies. But I’d gotten the impression the last time we talked that his hands were quickly becoming tied on the issue.

  Where would my aunts go when the house was gone? I’d thought about approaching the subject of an assisted living center. They could have their own apartment but have people nearby to help them. I mean, they were still pretty capable. But they needed my help more and more lately—paying the bills, reminding them to turn off the burners in the kitchen, helping them find their glasses, reminding them to take their medications—I didn’t like the idea of them living completely alone. But putting them into some sort of assisted living seemed like labeling them incapable, and I didn’t like that, either.

  I didn’t know what to do. But I knew I had to make a decision soon, or someone else would make it for me.

  Chapter 2

  “Watch out. Hot one just walked through the door.”

  I rolled my eyes at Beth, as I grabbed the latté from her hand and turned back to the drive-thru window. “Here you are,” I said with a smile to the harried woman in the minivan. “Have a great day.”

  She smiled gratefully just as a kid in the back seat screamed, “Mom, he hit me!”

  I wanted to sympathize with her, but I was actually a little envious. I never had siblings, no cousins or anyone else who was my age whom I might have fought with or giggled with or whatever. Lisa had four brothers, but we always locked ourselves in her bedroom, or she came to my house, so I didn’t have much of that at her house, either. So, yeah, I was a little envious of the harried mother.

  I turned away to answer the drive-thru intercom, just as Beth came up beside me again.

  “You know him?”

  “Know who?” I asked, as I pressed the buttons on the computer that corresponded with the new order.

  “The guy at the front counter. He asked if you were working.”

  I leaned back even as I asked the customer to drive forward, peeking around the corner to see who Beth was talking about. And there he was, Mr. Handsome, the guy I literally ran into at my ill-fated job interview. It’d been a week, and I had yet to hear from Ms. Tarek, but I wasn’t really holding my breath. I knew I didn’t get the job. A phone call telling me I didn’t get it would just be insult added to injury.

  But what was he doing here? How did he know he could find me here?

  “Do you know him?” Beth asked again.

  “I met him last week. But I don’t know what he’s doing here.”

  “Go ask him and find out.”

  She slid the headset off of my head and pushed me in the appropriate direction even as I began to protest. And then he saw me and smiled, watching me as I approached the counter.

  “Hi,” he said before I could get a word out. “I hope you don’t mind my coming here. I had something I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “Is this about the job?”

  “No,” he said, his eyes falling a little. “Unfortunately, we already filled that position.”

  “Oh.”

  He must have seen something in my face because he looked uncomfortable for a second. He glanced at something behind me then cleared his throat. “I was wondering if I could take you to dinner, actually.”

  “Yeah?”

  He focused on me again. “Yeah. Would you be available tonight? Kind of early, if you don’t mind, because I have to be on site at six tomorrow morning.”

  “Yes. I can do that.”

  “Great. How about I pick you up here after your shift?”

  “I actually get off in about an hour.”

  “Then I’ll hang around,” he said.

  I nodded, not sure what else to say. He’d just asked me out! My heart was pounding, and my mouth didn’t seem to know how to work. So I stammered a second as I walked backward, nearly walking straight into one of the coffee machines. Beth saved me at the last second, grabbing my arm and pulling me back over to the drive-thru cubby.

  “Did he just ask you out?”

  I looked at her and began to laugh, pressing my hand to my mouth to keep him from hearing.

  “I wish I was you. Never thought I’d say that,” Beth said as she wandered over to the window to hand a customer her drink.

  “Gee, thanks.”

  Thank God we were busy. I was rushing around so much that I only got to steal one or two glances at him. And those glances—he was so beautiful! I wanted to just stand there and stare at him for hours and hours. He sat next to the window and stared at his cellphone most of the time. The light behind him, the way his eyelashes made little shadows on his cheeks…I don’t think I’d ever seen a man quite like him before. And he wanted to go out with me. Every time that thought crossed my mind, my heart pounded, my hands shook, and I nearly splashed hot coffee on myself more than once.

  “Get out of here,” Beth told me the moment the clock read five.

  “Are you sure? You don’t want me to wait for Kyle?”

  “No. Go. I’ll cover the drive-thru till he comes in.”

  I slipped away before she could change her mind. I went into the bathroom and washed my face in the sink, running my fingers through my hair and then twisting it back into the knot I’d worn it in most of the day. It looked a little messy, a little too unwashed, but it would have to do. I pulled mascara and lip gloss from my bag, trying to improve my pale countenance a little. I wasn’t really one of those girls who wore makeup all the time—my aunts insisted it wasn’t necessary because I had the Giles family perfection when it came to skin—but a little makeup on special occasions couldn’t hurt. Right?

  I really wished Lisa was here with her bag of magic tricks that included an entire drug store full of makeup selections.

  I stared at myself in the mirror. I couldn’t imagine what he might see in me that inspired him to come all the way here to take me to dinner. My skin was always too pale, my freckles so dark against that pale skin that they looked like little marks made by the tip of a dark pen. My nose was too long, too thin. My eyes too wide and green. I liked my hair, most days. It was a deep mahogany that was na
turally long and thick, much to Lisa’s chagrin. It was the one thing she had always openly envied while I envied her perfectly tanned skin, her blond hair, and her boyish curves. She looked like a supermodel, the kind of girl every guy I’d ever met wanted. But me, I had too many curves and there was nothing boyish about them. Lisa and I could share clothes, but I was always stretching out her sweaters, and her skirts tended to be a little short on me.

  I was not the kind of girl a guy like Mr. Handsome could possibly want. Yet, he was outside waiting for me.

  I shoved my apron in my bag and tucked my blouse into my jeans. That was about as good as it was going to get.

  He was still staring at his phone when I walked up to his table. I waited for him to notice me, a little reluctant to interrupt what looked like something important if his slight frown was any indication.

  But then it took him so long to look up that I was beginning to feel like a fool. Other customers were staring, a couple of college girls whispering and pointing. I cleared my throat.

  “Hey,” he said, that frown instantly disappearing as his eyes moved over me. “You ready to go?”

  “Whenever you are.”

  He immediately stood and slid that phone into his back pocket. “I’m parked out back,” he said, gesturing for me to lead the way.

  There was a pickup truck and a BMW at the back of the parking lot. I assumed the pickup truck was his. I mean, it seemed like a reasonable assumption. He was a construction worker dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. So, I was more than mildly surprised when he walked to the Beemer.

  He opened the passenger side door and gestured widely with his hand.

  “You first, my lady.”

  “Why thank you, sir.”

  I climbed in, afraid to touch anything. The last time I’d ridden in a Beemer, I accidentally reset all the preprogrammed radio buttons. Granted, I was five, but it was still one of my least proud moments. So I sat on my hands until he opened the door. Then I pulled them out and clutched them in my lap, afraid he’d think I was odd if he saw me sitting on my hands like a five year old.

  We drove in awkward silence for a few minutes. I didn’t know what to say. And he didn’t seem too inclined to lessen the awkwardness by saying something to break the silence. Before I knew it, we were pulling into the parking lot of a popular restaurant.

  “Is this okay?” he asked. “Do you like pasta?”

  “Sure.”

  He got out of the car and came around to help me. He took my hand, and his skin was so soft, so warm, that thoughts I probably shouldn’t be having this early—like the thought of how nice that hand would feel on my belly, between my thighs—were surging through me until I had to bite my lip, hoping that little bit of pain would bring my thoughts back to the practical.

  After we were seated, he ordered a nice bottle of red wine, and we both settled on the shrimp scampi. Suddenly, we were left staring at each other. I picked up my wine glass and sipped a little of the cool liquid, quite impressed with the dry, but not bitter taste.

  “I guess you’re wondering why I invited you to dinner.”

  “I was curious.”

  He pressed his hands to the table and stared at them for a minute, as though he was nervous. Then he looked up at me, his eyes searching my face for a second.

  “Do you remember when you filled out the paperwork for the application to work at Thorn Construction?”

  I nodded.

  “There was a nondisclosure clause in all of that.”

  I remembered. I thought it was kind of odd that it would be included, but I signed it because I really wanted the job. The fact that he was bringing it up now made me wonder if this was more than just a simple date.

  “The clause is still in effect even though you weren’t offered a job.”

  “Okay.”

  “So what I’m about to say to you, you can’t tell anyone without penalty.”

  Apparently, I was wrong; this clearly this wasn’t a date. “Are you offering me a job?” It was the least I could hope for. Clearly, he wasn’t interested in me. I had known that part was too good to be true.

  He tilted his head slightly. “You can think of it that way.”

  But then he picked up his glass and took a deep swallow, emptying the glass with that one gulp. He seemed nervous, and I didn’t understand why. If he was offering me a job…

  “I don’t even your name,” I said suddenly.

  He looked up, his eyes widened. “I thought you knew who I was.” And then he laughed. “Now that makes all this even more awkward.” He reached across the table, his hand outstretched. “I’m Miles Thorn.”

  My heart skipped a beat, as much from the name he offered as the hand that touched mine with strength and virility. Miles Thorn. Miles Thorn was CEO of Thorn Construction.

  I’d thought he was just a construction worker.

  At least that explained the BMW.

  He poured us both another glass of wine—I hadn’t even realized I’d finished mine—and sat back again, his eyes studying me as though he expected some sort of odd reaction. I didn’t know what to say. I mean…damn, I didn’t know what to say when I thought he was a nobody. Now that I knew he was somebody, what was there to say?

  “I hadn’t realized that Joan didn’t explain who I was the other day. I just assumed…” He laughed again as he picked up his wine glass. “My mother always did say that only fools make assumptions.”

  “She wasn’t terribly impressed with me. I think she was in a hurry to get me on the elevator.”

  Miles tilted his head slightly. “That does sound like Joan.”

  “Has she worked for you long?”

  “Joan has worked for my family in one way or another since I was a toddler. She was my father’s personal assistant. And then she moved out here—too retire—and I talked her into helping me with this new business. It was only supposed to be for a few weeks, but I can’t seem to convince her I’m capable of running things on my own.”

  “She must care an awful lot about you.”

  He smiled as he lifted his glass to his lips. “I hope so. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

  There was something genuine in his voice that made me warm to him a little. He’d lied to me—at least, he’d lied by omitting his real name—and he dragged me out here on the pretense of a date only to turn the subject to something else, a job, maybe. So far, he didn’t seem like the kind of guy a girl could trust. Yet, that little bit of genuine feeling in his voice made the walls I was beginning to build against him fall a little.

  The waiter arrived a minute later with a large bowl of fresh salad, complete with a lovely Italian dressing. I’d had it before, but it always seemed like a new sensation when you took that first bite. I helped myself to a huge plateful, starving after a long day of serving coffee to Waco’s stressed and fatigued.

  “Have you lived in Waco all your life?”

  I looked up. “Since I was five.”

  “Do you like it?”

  “Yes. But I don’t really have much else to compare it to.”

  “Have you ever been to New York?”

  I shook my head. Lisa and I dreamed of travelling someday. She wanted to go to NYU and live a bohemian lifestyle, but her parents wouldn’t pay unless she went to Baylor, like me. However, she still wanted to go, and I was still planning to follow, as I always did when it came to anything Lisa did.

  “I don’t travel a lot.”

  He served himself some salad and tucked into it, taking a large bite and then making something of a face when the bitter vinegar of the dressing touched his tongue.

  “I grew up in upstate New York. It’s beautiful there.”

  “I’ve heard that.”

  “The Catskills in the summer…that’s great, too.”

  I didn’t know what to say, so I began eating my salad, too. It was so good. I sighed with the first bite, closing my eyes without really realizing it. When I opened them, he was watching me with somethi
ng like a smile, but not really.

  “You should travel,” he said. “I bet you’d love Italy.”

  That was a dream of mine, to visit Europe someday. Lisa thought it sounded like too much trouble, all that getting a passport stuff. However, it was something I’d always wanted to do. Italy and Paris and Spain. In fact, I had my passport. I applied for it over a year ago in the hopes that I would be able to find a job that would afford me the benefit of international travel. But that was before I found out what my aunts had done to pay for my education.

  He pushed his salad plate away and sat back, sipping his wine again.

  “We did something of a background check on you when you applied for that job.”

  “You did?”

  He nodded. “Mostly public records. Credit history, education, birth records.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s standard practice with most businesses these days. Want to make sure we’re getting an employee who won’t disappear on us after the first payday.”

  He played with the stem of his glass, acting nervous again. I found it kind of sexy, the lack of confidence, but it was also a little unbalancing. It made me wonder just what it was he wanted to ask of me. Was it illegal? Why else would he seem so nervous?

  “The thing is, you weren’t qualified for that job. Not by a mile.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “Surely you knew that going in.”

  I did. Of course I did. But I wasn’t about to admit that to him.

  “But you are qualified for something else I need.” Again, his eyes dropped to the glass and his big fingers sliding up and down the delicate stem. “You’ve never been arrested, never had a ticket, and you vote Republican. I couldn’t have found a more perfect candidate if I’d sent out a list of qualifications to every bridal magazine published in the world.”

  I didn’t understand what he was saying. On the one hand, it sounded like a compliment to my boring way of life. On the other…what did bridal magazines have to do with anything?

  “I have a proposition for you.”

  “Okay.”