by Mitzi Kelly
It had taken a superhuman effort to pull his body away from hers when it felt so natural and so…perfect. He remembered her flushed cheeks and her swollen lips, and—
No, better not go there, he thought to himself as his gut—and other parts—started to tighten at just the memory of how she had felt in his arms. This definitely wasn’t the time or place to be having X-rated thoughts. Still, Ginger was such an amazing combination of self-reliance, determination, stubbornness, and pure sensual femininity that he was having trouble keeping her off his mind.
“Are you going to stand there with that dazed look and a silly grin on your face the rest of the afternoon?” Justin asked.
Greg looked at his brother but ignored the question. He did, however, wipe the silly grin off his face. “Great game, wasn’t it?” He picked up the bag that held their equipment.
Justin dumped the two bats and their gloves he carried into the bag. “It sure was,” he said with a chuckle. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look on Mike’s face when Ginger hit that home run.”
Steve came up behind them. “Yeah, that was priceless.” He placed his arms across his brothers’ shoulders as they made their way to the picnic area. “We better make sure our new administrative assistant doesn’t ever leave us, or next year we’ll be eating crow.”
Greg suddenly stumbled. Quickly, he looked down at the ground. “Stupid rock.”
But it wasn’t a rock that had caused him to trip. An image flashed before him of Ginger’s face when she’d overheard Justin accusing him of hiring someone he was dating. That memory brought the realization it was too soon to ask Ginger for a date right now. He couldn’t risk making her uncomfortable at work, and he couldn’t risk the burgeoning friendship they shared.
Soft, billowy clouds floated across the sky and blocked the sun for a moment. And that described perfectly the feeling that suddenly overcame him. A little bit of the day’s warmth and brightness faded as he took a deep breath and reined in his thoughts. While he was enthusiastically imagining an easy friendship that they could fall into without reservation—but with some physical activities that didn’t include softball or construction—he’d neglected to consider Ginger’s feelings.
A lot of moving parts were circling in her life right now. It was complicated. And foremost on her plate—from what he could tell—was the absolute need to keep her job. And his gut told him loudly and clearly if it came down to her job or a relationship with him, he’d be tossed aside before he could blink. Not very flattering, but there it was.
Maybe if he just gave her some time to feel more secure in her job, to realize she wouldn’t be fired over a few casual dates with him, they could eventually have a social relationship. He wasn’t sure how long that would take, but he was willing to wait.
The clouds drifted past the sun, and the rays of light once again spread across the park. He yanked on his ball cap and grinned. He would wait patiently and play the long game.
Thankfully, a lot of work still had to be done at her home.
Chapter Nine
Ginger pulled into her driveway and cut off the engine. With a sigh, she leaned her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes. She recalled Greg’s expression when she’d made her excuse to leave the picnic early. The headache had been a lie at the time—and just to prove lies have consequences, her head now felt as though it would split in two.
He hadn’t been happy she was leaving early, and clearly he didn’t believe her, but he still insisted on walking her to her car. She was saved from any uncomfortable questions when the Huffman sisters announced they were leaving also and would walk with her and Greg. She could have kissed the elderly women. The look Greg gave her, though, when he opened the car door for her, had unmistakably meant he expected an explanation soon.
As soon as she could make some sense out of her emotions and her reaction to him, she would give him one.
She grabbed her purse and opened her car door. Immediately she heard her security system barking. She was constantly grateful for the day she’d found Jack. At least he was someone she didn’t have to worry about. She could devote all her love and attention to her male four-legged friend and not question his loyalty and veracity, unlike the two-legged species that had let her down and taken advantage of her more often than not.
The first thing that caught Ginger’s attention when she stepped onto her front porch was the white vase filled with a dozen yellow roses. Her eyebrows rose as she walked over to the small round table in the corner. She shifted her purse onto her opposite arm and reached for the white card attached to one of the stems.
She opened the flap of the envelope and pulled out the card. Beautiful flowers for a beautiful lady. The words were typed, but there was no signature. Frowning, she turned the card over. There wasn’t even a logo signaling which florist had provided the arrangement. How strange. Who would go to the trouble of sending flowers without bothering to sign a card?
Well, they were lovely, and she would enjoy them even if she couldn’t thank the sender, but it was going to drive her crazy wondering who they were from.
Balancing the vase in her left arm, Ginger unlocked the door. Jack immediately stopped barking, but when she stepped inside, he almost knocked her over when he tried to dart past her. “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” she scolded as she kicked the door closed and turned the lock. Frowning, she headed toward the kitchen, surprised when Jack didn’t immediately follow her. “There’s nobody there, Jack. Come on, I’ll let you out back.”
Ginger placed the flowers and her purse on the kitchen countertop and hurried to the back door, but Jack wasn’t doing the usual wild skittering dash to get outside. Instead, she found him still standing transfixed at the front door, his big head lowered as he stared at it, the hair on his neck standing on end.
Jack’s behavior concerned her, and a tingling sensation pricked her own neck. Slowly, she walked to her front window and pulled the curtains back. It wasn’t yet dark, but long shadows fell across the yard, creating a quiet, secluded atmosphere. Other than a gentle breeze rustling through the leaves, there was no movement from any of her neighbors, no stray dogs roaming the neighborhood, and no traffic moving down the street. Something had bothered Jack, though, and Ginger had no idea what it could have been.
Dropping the curtain back in place, she walked over to him and knelt down. “There’s nothing out there, big guy.” She gently ran her hands around his ears and through the thick fur on his neck. “I don’t know what has you so concerned, but you need to go out back and do your business, and I need to change my clothes. After that, if you still want to park your butt at the front door and play Super Guard, you can be my guest.”
She stood and headed for the back door. “Now come on, Jack.” Whether it was nature’s call or her soothing tone, Jack hesitated only a moment before he lumbered after her. When he neared the door, his legs started to move ahead of his body as he bumped against her and bounced off the doorframe in his haste to get outside.
At least something in her life was back to normal. On the heels of that thought came the memory of how much fun the company picnic had been. That was normal. That was people relaxing and enjoying time spent together away from work. And she’d left while they were still having fun because she was becoming inexorably drawn to one of those people. One of those people, unfortunately, that she worked for.
Why couldn’t Greg Tucker be an overweight, lazy, eighty-year-old, grumpy man? She would have stayed at the picnic and socialized with her new friends, done what normal people did. But her emotions were too raw from her recent relationship, and she didn’t quite trust her willpower right now. Besides, Greg’s looks weren’t the only things that drew her to him. His personality, his character, were even more attractive than his deep, dark eyes, his chiseled features, his broad shoulders, or…
With a groan, she shook her head and then marched down the hallway. She was doomed.
****
Stretching her aching ba
ck, Ginger looked around the living room with satisfaction. Too restless to sit still after the company picnic, she’d spent the rest of the day working on her house. Physical exertion always made her feel better, and it took her mind off her problems—like the never-ending jolt of awareness between her and Greg. That was definitely a problem, and it had to stop. She dropped her brush in the paint can and headed for the kitchen, threatening her muscles within an inch of their lives if they dared to tighten up.
She’d just taken a big gulp of soda when the doorbell rang. She jumped, her heart skipping a beat as she coughed and choked, spilling soda down the front of her shirt. She leaned against the counter for support, her nose stinging painfully and her eyes watering. The spasm finally subsided, and she took a deep breath, and then she narrowed her eyes. Jack wasn’t growling or barking. He was whining in excitement.
She knew exactly who had rung the doorbell.
Grabbing a napkin, she tramped toward the door and flung it open. “I could have died!” she shouted, swiping angrily at the stain on her shirt.
Greg swallowed his greeting and looked at her with concern. “What’s wrong? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine now, no thanks to you,” she muttered, stepping aside to let him in. “You scared me to death!”
His eyebrows rose. Hesitantly he stepped inside. Jack greeted him immediately.
She glared at the two of them before she walked past them toward the kitchen. “You really need to start calling before you come over.” She sounded petulant, but she couldn’t help it. She was irritated at how happy she was Greg was here.
Damn it! She didn’t want to be happy. She wanted to be nonchalant, unconcerned, and indifferent to his presence. Her heart was not paying attention to her wants, though, and it was becoming downright irritating.
She grabbed a paper towel and squatted beside the far cabinet to wipe the spilled soda off the floor. Several minutes later, she heard Greg come into the kitchen.
“Did you fall?” he asked, coming up beside her and pulling her to her feet. “Did you hurt yourself?”
She frowned. “Fall? What are you talking about?”
He shook her slightly. “You’ve got a sixteen-foot ladder propped against the wall in the living room. Did you fall?” He took a step back and looked her over from her bare feet to the top of her head. “You could be hurt and not even feel it yet. Do your ankles hurt? How about your elbows?”
She swatted his hands away. She was uncharacteristically self-conscious at her paint-stained—and soda-stained—T-shirt and tight blue jean shorts with the dangling threads. She looked like a hippie from the sixties, but she hadn’t exactly been expecting company.
His scrutiny unnerved her. He was standing so close she could see the individual hairs on his face, announcing it was almost time for another shave.
Swallowing, she clasped her hands tightly together to prevent herself from reaching out and stroking his cheek. That sort of impulse would surely send the wrong message. I only consider you a friend, but let me run my hands across your face, over your body, through your hair—
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve never fallen off a ladder in my life.”
He placed his hands on his hips. “Then how did I almost kill you? Surely it wasn’t the shock of seeing such a fine specimen of a man standing at your door.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. I hate to burst your ego, but I had just taken a drink when the doorbell rang. It startled me, and I choked. Not quite as dramatic as your scenario, but there you have it.”
He crossed his arms and rocked back and forth on his heels. “Ah, well, the doorbell may have almost killed you, but seeing me at the door probably revived you. I’m really glad I could help.”
“Gee, and I forgot to thank you. How inconsiderate of me. By the way, why are you here? Is the picnic over?”
“It wound down about an hour ago,” he confirmed. “I figured I’d go by the office to take a look at the new blueprints that came in for the McDaniel project, but something told me I should swing by to check on you.” He shrugged. “Besides, now is as good a time as any to start paying my debt.”
Her forehead creased. “Your debt?”
He moved to the dishwasher and opened the door. “Yeah, where do you keep your coffee?”
“Coffee?” Then she grinned. “Ah…the home run. Well, you’ll learn not to bet against me when I say I can do something.”
“I’m learning that real quick.”
She stuck her head in the refrigerator. “You should be exhausted after such a full day.”
She straightened just in time to see his gaze jerk up. He had a slightly guilty look on his face. Was he looking at my butt?
“No, I, uh, I’m not tired.”
She grinned. “Well, forget the coffee for now.” She tossed him a beer. “You start paying your debt Monday morning at the office, buster. For a year.”
Chuckling, he twisted the top off the beer and walked to the trashcan. “Did you have a good time today?”
“I thoroughly enjoyed myself.”
He let out a low whistle. “Wow. Beautiful roses.”
She walked over to the dinette table where she’d placed the vase of roses. “They are, aren’t they? I just wish I knew who they were from. They were sitting on my porch when I got home this afternoon.”
He frowned. “There wasn’t a signature? What did the card say?”
She reached out and tapped the envelope. “Beautiful flowers for a beautiful lady.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
He walked over, reached for the envelope, and read it himself. “It seems as though you have a secret admirer, Miss Carmichael.”
“The secret part is a real turn off.”
He grinned. “So you don’t like surprises?”
“I love surprises, as long as the person doing the surprising owns up to it. What I don’t like are riddles and games. Grab your beer, and let’s go sit on the back porch. It’s a lovely evening, and I could use a break.”
Jack jumped up from his corner and rushed ahead of them to the back door.
“I wasn’t talking to you, big guy.” She had just opened the door when the sound of her cell phone ringing stopped her. Sighing, she motioned for Greg to go on out. “I’ll be right there.”
****
Greg sat down at the wrought-iron table, angling his chair to suit his long legs. Jack immediately plopped his head in his lap. Taking a drink from his beer, he rubbed the dog’s head. He could see Ginger through the glass panes in the door. She was rummaging through her purse on the kitchen table. When she pulled out her phone, she glanced at the display, but she didn’t answer it. She appeared rooted to the spot.
Concerned, he was halfway out of his chair when she tossed her phone on the table and picked up her beer. She took two steps toward the door, and then she suddenly stopped. Her head lifted, and she looked toward the kitchen. And he knew what she was looking at…a beautiful arrangement of yellow roses.
“What were they selling?” he asked easily when she came outside. He kept his features tightly under control.
She sat down and pulled her legs up. “It wasn’t a salesman.” She didn’t look at him. She also didn’t volunteer any other information.
“Oh?” he prodded. It wasn’t any of his business who the call was from or who had sent the flowers, but the idea of a man out there thinking about her ate at him.
She sighed and leaned her head back. “The call was from someone I used to know in California.”
He sat still, hoping the astonishment from her remark didn’t show on his face, but she wasn’t looking at him. He’d always assumed she left a lover behind who was waiting patiently for her to return. It appeared he was right.
He looked down at Jack who was curled under his feet. “And that someone is the person who sent you the flowers.” It wasn’t a question.
She closed her eyes. “Probably,” she said quietly. “I didn’t
answer the phone.”
He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as his eyes focused on the concrete between his feet. “Making him pay for his bad behavior, huh?”
She let out a bitter laugh. “If you only knew.”
Suddenly, he didn’t want to know. Acute disappointment clouded his thoughts. He’d thought Ginger was different from the other women he knew, that she wasn’t the type to play with a man’s emotions, to use her feminine wiles to steer a relationship in the direction she chose.
His thumb played with the label on the bottle. He had let his guard down, thinking he finally met a woman who was fun and genuine with no ulterior motives.
Knowing the friendship he thought they were developing was nothing more than her passing time while she waited for some guy in California to come crawling back was a bitter pill to swallow.
They talked briefly about the picnic, the softball game, and the weather, but their conversation had become stilted. He couldn’t help it; his mood had changed drastically. He needed to get out of there before he did or said something that wouldn’t be appropriate for a boss to say to an employee. He gave it a few minutes before he stood. “I’d better be going. I have to prepare two proposals for work tomorrow.”
Ginger looked at him for a moment. “Of course.” They didn’t talk as she walked him to the door.
By the time Greg made it home, his jaw throbbed painfully from gritting his teeth.
****
The last thing Ginger wanted to do the next morning was to take Jack for a walk. However, it didn’t look like she was going to have a choice. Now that he’d gotten used to the daily exercise, there was only one way to stop him from circling her legs, standing at the front door with his tongue hanging out and his tail wagging, and staring pitifully at the leash she left on the small table in the hallway, and that was to take him for a walk. He was definitely a master manipulator.
She tried to garner her usual enthusiasm for the outing as she clipped the leash to Jack’s collar and wrapped the leather cord several times around her hand to support her arm when he rushed out the door. Starting their walk by calmly going through the door was the one area she had made no progress on with her big dog. Once they were out on the sidewalk, though, he had learned to walk calmly beside her, at her pace, without pulling and dragging her down the block.
