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Christmas Elopement
Anne Eames


THE BOSS SAYS "BAH, HUMBUG."Ever had a tall, dark and scrumptiously sexy boss? So desirable that you wish he'd be waiting under your Christmas tree on December 24, wearing nothing but a red ribbon around his neck? But so scroogelike that he's planning to cancel the company party, enforce the "no-dating co-workers" policy and spend the holidays shredding mistletoe?Sounds just like Carrie Sargent's boss. So how did the woman who was one eggnog away from saying "I quit!" ever get Cash Cunningham to merrily say "I do!" at a wedding chapel on Christmas Eve? … THE GROOM SAYS "I DO!"









Table of Contents


Cover Page (#u8a8e310c-efbf-5d33-ab7b-131496e62820)

Excerpt (#u1e91bfb8-f6ef-5ba6-b969-97e588b16ec5)

Dear Reader (#ubf187504-0e95-5b6d-9108-5ab1af16208f)

Title Page (#uff37511d-09b1-527e-a178-bfdbd45fcf6d)

About the Author (#u3e1bbb2b-39d5-5af9-92b9-ef60377e253e)

Dedication (#ua04da07a-dcfb-56ad-a565-cbe85141d5cd)

One (#u6402eb4e-39c0-5696-8d64-5cfefeb8d3e2)

Two (#u7f4fa265-5fb7-5d0a-a82d-133ad66a8a67)

Three (#u88352be7-66b6-53e4-80c5-33c0cc06b482)

Four (#uf96f37a8-98da-5460-b8f9-ec43fe990450)

Five (#u1b8fac95-1cfa-5103-909b-16347aca49f2)

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Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)




No Interoffice Dating: Employee Handbook Rule #176


And who had known that rule better than himself, the boss, as he’d entered Carrie’s hotel room last night, as he’d kissed her and held her and—



“We both know the rule, Mr. Cunningham,” Carrie said, her voice a mixture of hurt and anger. “So what was last night all about?”

He saw the sheen of tears in Carrie’s hurt green eyes, but he couldn’t tell her what he wanted to say. That last night was about feelings he’d never felt before, about a oneness he never thought possible. He should have said good-night at her door, but he’d said good-night as they were drifting off to sleep, naked and sated…


Dear Reader,



Happy holidays from the staff at Silhouette Desire! As you can see by the special cover treatment this month, these books are our holiday gifts to you. And each and every story is so wonderful that I know you’ll want to buy extras to give to your friends!



We begin with Jackie Merritt’s MAN OF THE MONTH, Montana Christmas, which is the conclusion of her spectacular MADE IN MONTANA series. The fun continues with Instant Dad, the final installment in Raye Morgan’s popular series THE BABY SHOWER.

Suzannah Davis’s Gabriel’s Bride is a classic—and sensuous—love story you’re sure to love. And Anne Eames’s delightful writing style is highlighted to perfection in Christmas Elopement. For a story that will make you feel all the warmth and goodwill of the holiday season, don’t miss Kate Little’s Jingle Bell Baby.

And Susan Connell begins a new miniseries—THE GIRLS MOST LIKELY TO…—about three former high school friends who are now all grown up in Rebel’s Spirit. Look for upcoming books in the series in 1997.

Happy holidays and happy reading from






AND THE STAFF OF SILHOUETTE DESIRE

Please address questions and book requests to:

Silhouette Reader Service

U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325. Buffalo, NY 14269

Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3




Christmas Elopement

Anne Eames











www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




ANNE EAMES


joined Romance Writers of America in 1991 and set a five-year goal: to sell her first novel. A year ahead of schedule she sold Two Weddings and a Bride, followed quickly by You’re What?! and Christmas Elopement—all 1996 releases for Silhouette Desire. Along the way she was an RWA Golden Heart Finalist, as well as a Maggie Award winner. Anne says her energetic imagination has been fueled by her motley background, which includes theater, sales and construction management—collectively providing her with a plethora of ideas for a lifetime of stories.

Anne and her engineer husband, Bill, live in southeastern Michigan and share a family of five—two hers (Tim and Tom), two his (Erin and David) and one theirs (an adorable miniature dachshund, Punkin).


To Julia Cameron for her book The Artist’s Way, which has changed forever the way I approach my craft; and To those enlightened employers, managers and supervisors everywhere who contribute to the happiness and well-being of their employees




One (#ulink_8dc0286a-03a8-5f96-aa41-799f9936cd43)


So here it was, Friday the thirteenth. Bad hair, no fiancé, no job, and she felt like she was going to puke for the third time this morning. Tuesday’s flu was no longer the cause. More likely it was the bottle of cheap wine she’d consumed last night during a rare self-indulgent blue funk.

She should have known it would be a lousy week. So far, the bad perm on Monday had been the best part. She grabbed chunks of hair in each hand and growled in frustration. It was dry, fuzzy, bushy. Totally out of control. Unmanageable. Just like her ramshackle life.

“Oh, heiferdust! You really don’t have time for this selfpity, Carrie Sargent.” Where were those old problem-solving skills of hers, anyway?

She munched on a soda cracker, licking the salt from her lips. The teapot whistled, and she poured the steaming water over a tea bag and gave it a few dunks. Mug in hand, she stared out at the foggy mist that hung over Monterey Bay and the Cannery, far below. It was a view to be envied and one that she’d miss, but she had to move. No two ways about it. It might be some time before her lodgings rivaled her recent life-style, but Carmel wasn’t too shabby. If she had to climb off this mountain, there were worse places she could go.

Earlier in the week she’d actually considered the option of letting Brian bail her out—a small loan till she found a new job. Brian. She scoffed at the mere thought of her ex-fiancé. Last night, before she could even broach the subject, he’d whipped out his checkbook in that superior way of his and summarily categorized her problem as”typically female.” So before the night was over, she’d summarily slapped his grandmother’s priceless three-carat marquise diamond in his hand and told him to take a hike.

That was a mistake, she thought now, eyeing another cracker. She should have kept the ring.

The phone beside her jangled and she jumped, the movement sending shock waves through her pounding head, her stomach rolling over again. If it was Brian or her landlord, she didn’t have the time or energy. She was tempted to let it ring, but then she worried that it might be about today’s job interview.

Another curse and she lifted the receiver.”Hello?”

“Carrie, it’s Brian.”

Why did he always identify himself? Like she wouldn’t know?”Brian who?” she snapped.

“Oh, for God sake’s, Carrie, you need me—”

“Need you?” she said, letting the acid in her mouth spike her tone.

“Yes,” he said, his usual arrogance seeping through the receiver.”For many things…not the least of which is money.”

That was Brian. Forever the romantic. What had she ever seen in this jerk—besides his good looks, intelligence and wealth? Was she that shallow?

“What if you don’t get that job today?” he continued, sounding confident he was gaining ground.”May I remind you, Ms. S, your landlord has served you with Notice To Quit? If you don’t come up with the rent by next week—”

“Enough, Brian. I don’t need your money or your reminders.” She heard the anger in her raised voice, and quickly reined it in. In a much more controlled tone, she finished swiftly.”Save the arguments for your next jury, Counselor.” Before he could reply, she hung up the phone and turned on the answering machine.

The start-up beep had barely sounded when the phone rang again. Quickly she turned down the volume. There was no point getting riled up about things. They’d said it all before. Again and again. If last night had been their first major setback, maybe…But it hadn’t. She snatched up another cracker and snapped open the morning paper.

The front page detailed the latest disaster. She flipped to the comics, searching for a quick laugh, finding a chuckle in”Marmaduke.” Finally, after another cup of tea and a fruitless tour of the classifieds, she reread the ad clipped for today’s interview. It was long and detailed. Nothing in it ruled her out. And everything about it sounded good. In fact, too good to be true.

The answering machine picked up another call and Carrie frowned at her ringless third finger. With a weary sigh, she shoved out of the chair and headed for the shower. If she could just keep the crackers and tea down long enough to get dressed and out the door…



When she walked outside an hour later, sunlight had burned off the fog, and her smile widened. A mischievous sensation arched her brow as she fussed with the lucky scarf at her neck. It was a watercolor flurry of kelly green and carrot orange—perfect matches to her eyes and hair. Probably navy or basic black would have been a safer choice.

“Oh, well.”

She tucked the colorful scarf under the lapel of her salmon-colored suit and settled behind the wheel of her rusted Woodie station wagon. This outfit was far more fun, she’d convinced herself, one that was certain to stand out among the other corporate types. She turned the key and the car coughed and sputtered before turning over.

“Besides, S, when have you ever played it safe? When did caution ever enter into the equation?” She smiled through the bug-spattered windshield and snaked her way down toward the city.

Yep. With her experience and references, she’d get that job. If not today, by the next interview. She’d better. She was down to her last hundred bucks. After the interview she’d go talk to Gus at Day’s Pub in Carmel. One way or the other she’d find a way to work things out. She cranked down the window, turned up the Mozart and clutched the wheel of her Woodie for dear life, willing away the butterflies in her stomach.

Tourist traffic had picked up now that the holidays were drawing near, making the trek a slow one, giving her time to enjoy the late-fall air and the ever-present trade winds that wafted through the window. Cunningham Construction was a couple of blocks away. She glanced at her watch: ten minutes till eleven. Plenty of time.



Twenty minutes later she darted around the last construction barricade, yanked the steering wheel a hard right into the parking lot and ran smack-dab into the front fender of a Mercedes convertible. She jerked against the seat belt, and her head whipped back, soda crackers revisiting the back of her throat. The sickening sound of dimpling metal reverberated in her already aching head.

Great! Just what she needed. She did a quick inventory of her body parts and found none bleeding, so she flung open the door to inspect Woodie. The left fender looked like she felt. Mean and ugly. The other car looked a little like Brian’s, only this one was black instead of navy. Probably another lawyer, she thought, as she spun on the guilty driver.

“Look what you’ve done!” she shouted at the black suit and wing tips, not having made her way to his face yet.

“What I’ve done! You’re the one driving like a bat out of hell!”

“I had the right-of-way. I was turning right.”

“Except I was already there.”

Carrie glanced at the tanned face, her words lost momentarily. Drop-dead gorgeous. The sun bounced off his black hair like a halo. Blue eyes were invading her space. She stepped back and regrouped.

“I’m in a hurry. Just write out your insurance information and I’ll do the same.” There. She was in control again. Although he hesitated a moment, his jaw muscles working overtime, he did what she asked.

They exchanged papers and then, with slitted glances flitting between them in an angry duel, they returned to their vehicles. He pulled away first, backing off Woodie, loosening the front bumper in the process.

“Damn!” Would this week ever be over? Slowly she pulled into the lot, the bumper scraping the blacktop in a cry for help. She got out and walked to the front of it, taking a long, slow look.

“Oh, Woodie, look what he’s done to you. No respect for the elderly, that one. Well, just wait till he hears from my insurance company!”

She straightened her scarf and her shoulders and quickened her pace to the front door. She hated being late. She was never late. First the construction, now this.

A large three-story atrium greeted her when she walked through the door, the only decoration a huge brass sculpture suspended overhead. Off-white concrete walls, no photos, no plants. She headed for the elevator, her heels echoing on the pristine hardwood floor. The secretary had said the third floor, so she punched the number and made her ascent.

The name Cunningham Construction was displayed in dense brass letters behind a reception area that was also devoid of color or warmth. Not even a hint of the impending holidays. The young woman behind the desk, however, smiled warmly when Carrie approached her.

“Carrie Sargent?” she asked, still smiling.

“Yes. I’m sorry I’m late, but—”

The woman waved her hand.”Not to worry. The boss just got here himself. He said the construction down there has everything tied up. Would you like some coffee?”

She’d like some more tea, but with her luck she’d spill it all over herself or the interviewer.”No, thank you.”

“I just handed him your résumé. Let me see if he’s ready.”

Carrie watched her disappear around the corner and exhaled a slow breath. Time for an attitude adjustment. The week so far might have been lousy, but she needed this job. This could be the turning point she was hoping for…

“You may go in now, Ms. Sargent,” the young woman said when she returned, then added softly under her breath.”He’s not in the best mood this morning, but his bark is worse than his bite. He’s really a nice guy when you get to know him.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Carrie whispered back, her lower intestines contracting. Great. Just great.

“First door on the right,” the secretary called over her shoulder.

The man sitting behind the desk had his back to her, staring out the glass wall behind him. She put on her best smile and rapped softly on the open oak door beside her.

He swiveled around abruptly, as if roused from some trance.

“You!” he said, blue eyes widening.

Carrie’s chances for a quick paycheck dimmed along with her smile. Nonetheless, she stepped forward and extended her hand.”Carrie Sargent. I’m here about the job.”

He looked at her hand a moment, then stood and gave it one quick shake before dropping back into his tan leather chair. His lips were locked tight and his dark eyebrows pinched together. His gaze drifted to her bright scarf and suit, then back to her eyes.

“Is this how you always dress for an interview, or do you save this getup for demolition-derby days?”

She folded her arms and shifted her weight to one foot. The job was obviously out the window, so why hold back? “Is this how you talk to your employees, or do you save your arrogance for lowly applicants?”

He slapped his palms on the desk and pushed out of his chair.”I think you can assume this interview is over, Miss…Miss…”

“Sargent.” She retrieved the insurance information from her pocket and read the name he’d scribbled early. Cash Cunningham—President. Made sense. It was that kind of week.”Well, Mr. Cunningham, I’d like to say it’s been a pleasure to meet you, but I’ve never been a good liar.” She turned to go, throwing a last line over her shoulder.”Expect to hear from my insurance company.”



Cash watched the curly carrot-colored hair bounce off the woman’s shoulders as she stormed off, then crumpled her résumé and tossed it in the corner wastebasket. For this he’d rushed back from a job site?

Suddenly she was in the doorway again, hands on hips.”Do you suppose you could find some twine or something to tie up the bumper you destroyed?”

Of all the gall. He had a mind to sit her in the chair and tie her up, this loose cannon with the face full of freckles and legs up to—

He picked up the phone and punched the intercom to the warehouse.”Sam…got a lady here who needs help.” That was an understatement.”Find some twine and meet her in the parking lot. She’ll be easy to spot. Just look for a gaudy suit next to an old rust-bucket wagon.” He hung up the receiver and took some pleasure from the steam generating off the body in the doorway. She was glaring at him, her ample chest rising and falling rapidly as she mouthed words that challenged his heritage. Swinging her hair off her shoulders, she disappeared again.

Cash steepled his fingers and waited, half expecting another visit. When none came, he buzzed his secretary, who stood in front of him a moment later.

“Obviously, that one didn’t work out,” he said.”Are more scheduled?”

“Not really. Miss Sargent sounded so nice on the phone, and her references raved about her. Sorry, boss. I thought I found you a winner.”

She was a winner, all right. Cash heaved a sigh.”Go through the pile again and see if we overlooked anyone.” Peggy started to leave.”Oh, and Peg…if you don’t find anything, then give that headhunter a call…Dwayne what’s-his-name?”

“Dwayne Flutie,” she said.

“Right. Flutie.” Damn! He hated giving those bloodsuckers money.”On second thought, Peg, wait till Monday’s mail. If we don’t have a candidate by then, find Flutie and I’ll talk to him.”

“Aye, aye, boss,” Peggy said, rolling her eyes as she turned.

Cash grabbed a handful of paper from his in-basket and swore under his breath. All this paperwork was killing him. If he didn’t get someone soon, he’d drown in it.

Peg was already in over her head, but just two years out of high school, what did he expect? She was good on the phone, dealing with customers and directing the hundreds of calls they received. There was little time for anything else. Besides, when he hired her, he’d known she was light on experience and it would be years before she was ready for much more. Still, the price was right. She seemed happy with a little over minimum wage and benefits after a year.

He rifled through the pile in front of him, knowing he’d have to cancel tomorrow’s golf game. If he was lucky, maybe he’d find his desk under all this mess by Sunday night. And sometime over the weekend he had to see about car repairs, thanks to that…that…spitfire. He leaned back, locked his hands behind his head and emitted a sardonic laugh.

When was the last time someone had dressed him down like that? Ever? He couldn’t remember anything quite like it.




Two (#ulink_976812c7-ebf0-5216-9b3c-61504c951095)


Carrie made a pit stop at the insurance adjuster’s office, where she got the bad news about hard-to-find parts, plus a reminder that she’d changed her deductible to two hundred and fifty dollars—which was more than double the amount left in her pocket.

Cursing her luck, she headed for Carmel and M. M. Day’s Pub. By the time she found a parking space a half hour later she was in a real snit. With long strides she marched to the bar, hopped up on a stool, crossed her arms on the scarred mahogany counter and waited for Gus to notice her, which took only a few seconds.

“Carrie, my love. What can I getcha?” He reached out and patted her arm, a warm smile crinkling the corners of his tired eyes.

“Coffee, please.” It had been months since she’d stopped by to see him. Now she felt guilty about the favor she was about to ask.”How’s it going, Gus?”

“Oh, I can’t complain. How’s your pop doin’? Does he like Maine?”

“He’s getting better every day. Says he loves being back east after all these years.”

“Thank the Lord, no paralysis, huh?” He deposited a steaming mug in front of her.

“You can say that again! There’s still a little speech problem, but nothing you can’t understand—especially when he starts swearing.” She chuckled, feeling the frustrations of the morning slip away.”Yep, that always comes out crystal-clear. Sometimes I hear him giving the visiting nurse the what-for, so I guess he’s pretty much back to normal.” She sipped her coffee and sighed.”Mmm…Thanks, Gus. I needed this.”

“Bad day?” He dried glasses as he spoke.

“Bad week.” She tucked a handful of frizz behind each ear and blew at her bangs.

“Sorry to hear that, Carrie. Real shame you lost your job when your pop’s business sold. He always boasted what a fine job you did. Find anythin’ new yet?” A customer waved at the far end of the bar and Gus motioned he’d be right back.

Carrie’s gaze trailed after him, then wandered to the frame-filled walls. Everywhere she looked there were photographs of Clint Eastwood in movies that spanned decades, some autographed, many with props or costumes encased alongside. She’d seen him here a few times visiting with Gus, surrounded by heavy-breathing females. If only he were a little younger and would sweep in here now and make her day.

Fat chance.

Well, this was it. No more stalling. Time for a little humble pie. God, she hadn’t waited tables since she was a teenager. She glanced around the room and found another thirty-something waitress and felt a little better. The lunch crowd had thinned. Now was as good a time as any.

Gus came around the end of the bar and took a stool next to her. She swiveled toward him, eyes cast down.

“If you’re here for a little help—” Gus took both her hands in his and squeezed gently”—I told your pop I’d keep an eye on ya. What can I do, lass?”

Carrie forced her gaze level with his, blinking clear her vision.”I was hoping you might need another waitress…just for a while…till I get back on my feet.”

Gus scratched the stubble on his cheek and studied her out of the corner of his eye.

“I’d work whatever hours you’ve got…bartend, too, if you want. I know it’s been a long time since I did any of this, but I’ll pick it up again—”

“Whoa.” Gus held up both hands.”You don’t let a guy get a word in edgewise.” He chuckled and she knew she had the job. “I was just thinkin’ about something else.”

“Like?”

“Like…” He hesitated, looking embarrassed, but then continued.”Like if you need to work here, then maybe ya can’t afford your house in Monterey, either.” He lowered his head and arched his brows, acting as if he’d pried but daring her to deny it.

“Well, you’re right.” Now it was her turn to be embarrassed.”I have to find a new place. Soon.”

“It’s not much, but there’s a room upstairs…got a sofa bed and little dinette set…and a bathroom with a shower stall, no tub.”

“When can I move in?” She could barely contain her excitement. At last her luck was turning.

“As soon as I get someone to clean it up—”

“Oh, I can do that.” Carrie jumped off the stool and threw her arms around Gus’s neck.”You’re a lifesaver, Gus McGee.”

He patted her on the back and chuckled. As she pulled away and planted a kiss on his forehead, he asked,”When do you wanna start work?”

“Tonight, if you need me.”

“Go home and pack your stuff, Carrie girl, and I’ll have someone clean upstairs.” She started to argue but Gus cut her off.”When ya get settled in, we’ll talk about your work schedule, okay?”

She held up her index finger.”One condition.”

Gus narrowed his gaze.”And what might that be, lassie?”

“That you apply my wages toward rent.”

“I’ll do nothing of the kind. How will you live?”

“If I’m any good at my job, hopefully I’ll get tips.” Gus was shaking his head vigorously, but she persisted. “Besides, this is only temporary. I’ll be getting an office job soon enough. Then I’ll pay you rent like a normal person.”

Carrie stilled his head between her fingers and stopped his protest.”Gus…I’m a big girl now, and I’ve got my pride. Please?”

He took her hands in his once again.”You’re just as pigheaded as your pop, lassie.” He smoothed a stray lock of hair from her cheek and smiled.”And just as beautiful as your mama, God rest her soul.” He stood at last, pulling her into a gentle embrace before returning to his post behind the bar.

“Well?” he said, after a moment.”What are ya doin’ sittin’ around here lookin’ all misty-eyed? Don’t ya have boxes to pack?”



Sunday afternoon Carrie darted in front of the big screen, trying not to obstruct the game behind her. M. M. Day’s was filled to capacity with San Francisco 49ers fans cheering or booing each play of the game. The team was beating the Detroit Lions handily, which meant the crowd was in a good mood. Beer and tips flowed freely. She’d only been patted on the backside once so far.

Funny how the only accident she’d had was in that guy’s lap.

Well, it’d been a long time since she’d carried such a heavy tray, Gus explained to the irate patron as he left for home in search of dry clothes. Gus returned to the bar and Carrie placed another order, busying herself with cherries, olives and the like, ignoring Gus’s probing stare.

“So, lass…is that how you’ll handle anyone who gets too friendly?”

She grabbed a handful of cocktail napkins and kept her eyes cast down.”Probably,” she said, knowing full well she would.

Gus lifted her chin with his finger and looked at her sternly.”Do you suppose when the next accident happens you could have just one or two drinks on the tray and no food?”

A laugh burst from Carrie’s lips.”I suppose that could be arranged.”

He dropped his hand from her face and chuckled.”That geezer’s been a thorn in my backside for years. Don’t know why I never did that myself.”

His gaze left hers and she turned to see what had caught his attention. A young, prissy-looking man in a Brooks Brothers suit had settled into the corner booth by the window, far from the game and the men in jeans.

“Do you know that man?” Carrie asked.

“Afraid so. Comes in fairly regular. Orders salads and Perrier, which is fine with me. But he likes to talk. Gossips about everything and everyone and expects me to sit down and visit.” Gus looked back at Carrie and grinned.”Gee, the boys watchin’ the game are motionin’ for me, lass. Why don’t you go introduce yourself to Dwayne over there. Take a break. Talk to him about opera or somethin’. That’ll make him happy.” Gus patted Carrie on the shoulder as he passed, seeming pleased that he’d dodged the bullet.

Carrie watched the little man in the corner with a critical eye. He seemed harmless enough. Kind of reminded her of Dr. Niles Crane on the sitcom”Frasier.” She couldn’t help but wonder what brought him here. He looked as out of place as Rush Limbaugh at a Democratic fund raiser. Curiosity piqued, she strolled over.

“Can I get you something?” she started, taking a closer look at his precisely cut blond hair and deep-set brown eyes.

He lifted his chin and managed to talk down at her, even from his lower position.”I think I’ll do something daring and have a cup of clam chowder.”

Carrie bit the inside of her cheek.”And to drink?”

“Oh, some of that wonderfully flavored iced tea of yours, I think. Yes, yes. Bring me a tall frosted glass of it, please.” He closed his menu and handed it to her, cocking his head to one side.”You’re new here, aren’t you?”

“Yes. As of this weekend. It’s temporary, though…till I find something in my field.” His snobbishness had drawn the same from her. She scribbled his order and started to leave.

“Wait!”

She turned back and saw a rectangular smile of perfect teeth. With long, deliberate fingers he withdrew a gold case from his breast pocket, removed a business card and presented it to her with great flair.

She read it and said,”Ahhh…a headhunter.”

His back straightened.”I prefer to think of myself as a management placement professional.”

She was sure he did. She shot him a phony smile.”I’ll get your order.”

When she returned with the soup and tea she noticed a legal pad in front of Dwayne, a Waterman rollerball pen poised between his fingers. He nodded to the seat across from him. With only the slightest hesitation, she obliged. Why not? Maybe he could find her something similar to the opening at Cunningham Construction. She thought about telling dandy Dwayne what had happened last Friday, but decided against it.



Monday morning Peggy peered around the corner and Cash motioned her in.”I’m afraid to ask…Anything?”

Peggy wrinkled her nose and tossed her short blond hair from side to side.”Sorry, boss…but I did as you suggested. Dwayne Flutie is on line two.”

Cash looked at the ceiling and blew out a stream of hot air. The last time he used the guy it had cost the company over twenty grand in finder’s fees. However, he had located a good project manager—one who was still around and was a hell of a worker.”Okay, Peg. Thanks.”

Cash watched her scurry away before he picked up the phone.

Ten minutes later he hung up, stunned by the speed and efficiency with which Flutie had handled him. He had actually agreed to join the guy for dinner at some pub in Carmel. How was it he’d put it?

Oh, yes—”to meet just the woman you need.”



At 7:25 Cash parked his loaner a block past M. M. Day’s and slammed the door. He shook his head at its garish red color and made a mental note to call the garage in the morning. Hopefully the parts were readily available and he’d have his own wheels sometime soon. He strode the short distance to the entrance and found Flutie in a booth by the window. He half stood and held out his hand as Cash slid in across from him.

“Kind of you to join me on such short notice, Cash,” he said over a limp shake, then sat down and got right to business.”I have a résumé here that I’m sure you’ll find very impressive.” He slid it in front of Cash and leaned back, chin high, shoulders too straight.

Cash forced his gaze away from this strange little character to the paper in front of him. He’d read so many résumés the past few weeks that they all looked the same. Skipping the top portion, he went right to the experience section. He was prepared for a nice, neat format, good grammar and no substance. What he saw was fifteen years at a construction company—a woman who had worked her way from the bottom to management in nice steady steps. He even recognized the name of one of her references—a well-respected developer he’d done business with a few years back. As much as he hated to admit it, Flutie might have something here.

“Well, Dwayne,” he said,”when do I get to meet her?”




Three (#ulink_a086377b-8045-558d-b4ac-ef9f2f573798)


Carrie flew down the back inside stairway, then stopped at the connecting door. She inhaled and exhaled three deep breaths, then yanked the handle inward. Gus gave her a low whistle as she paused at the bar.

“You look terrific, lass. If your resume hasn’t already sold the guy, how can he resist the prettiest gal in Carmel?”

Carrie emitted a not too convinced chuckle.”I think your opinion is a tad biased, Gus McGee,” she said, as she eyed the front booth. She wished she’d allowed herself extra time to prepare. She felt more tense than usual, and there was also the fact that the only unpacked, unwrinkled outfit was the same one she’d worn last Friday. Adjusting the scarf at her neck, she questioned just how lucky it truly was. It hadn’t worked Friday. Why did she think it would now?

“Your man just got here,” Gus said, cutting into her jitters.”Still time to rescue him before Dwayne puts him to sleep.” He chuckled and shook his head. “I’ll be right over and take your order. Knock him dead, lassie.”

Carrie rolled her eyes and forced a smile.”Thanks, Gus.”

As she approached the corner Dwayne lifted his chin a notch and looked as if he were about to consummate the sale of the century. He may be a little odd, but she liked him. She couldn’t help but smile at him as she neared the booth.

“Carrie, I’m so glad you could join us.”

Carrie turned toward her prospective boss, who stood to greet her.”You!”

“Yes, me,” he said, the contempt in his voice apparent.

All Carrie could do was stare at him.

Dwayne cleared his throat.”Well…it appears we may have a minor problem here.” He rubbed his hands together, then clasped them to his chest.”But surely nothing that can’t be fixed.”

Cunningham glared at her as if looks could kill.”I’m afraid there’s way too much to fix, the least of which is the front end of my car…thanks to this reckless—”

“Your car!” The audacity of the man!”Do you know how long I’ll have to wait for Woodie’s parts?”

“Not as long as you’ll have to wait to get a job at Cunningham Construction.”

Dwayne clapped his hands together twice, loud and sharp, and they both stared at him, stunned into silence.”Now stop it. Both of you. And sit down. You’re acting like children.”

“Here we go,” Gus said, with forced gusto.”Some of California’s finest, on the house.”

Carrie looked at Gus’s desperate-looking smile and knew her freckles had disappeared behind her scarlet cheeks.

“Well…enjoy!” Gus said and raced off.

She braved another peek at Dwayne, who was sharing a stern look between his two mismatched clients as they reluctantly slid into the seats across from him.

“Okay,” he started.”We’re going to begin again.” He took a slow, deliberate sip of Perrier, wiped his mouth with an embroidered handkerchief and then proceeded.

“Carrie Sargent, I’d like you to meet Cash Cunningham. Cash…you may shake her hand and say something polite.”

Carrie turned toward Cash, her hand making the long journey from her lap. When she saw his hand slowly rise to meet hers, she let her gaze travel to his face. She caught a slight quiver at the corners of his mouth, and she lost it. She laughed aloud as she clasped his long, elegant fingers. She watched him struggle a second longer before he gave in to his own amusement. She doubted anyone quite like Dwayne had ever crossed this man’s path. The idea of anyone scolding this…this…His hand was still in hers as he laughed and eyed Dwayne. Damned if Cash Cunningham weren’t one of the most handsome men she’d ever met.

“Now, that’s better,” Dwayne said, and Carrie withdrew her hand quickly.”We’ll just put aside the past and move forward.”

He turned to Carrie first.”Carrie, maybe you would like to explain to Cash why you are no longer employed at S & S Construction. Yes. 1 think that would be a good starting point.” He folded his arms and waited.

Carrie turned in her seat and met Cash’s gaze. Those eyes. She remembered noticing how blue they were before. Distracted, she answered the question.”My father had a stroke last year. He owned the company I worked for so…so…” Damn, but this was difficult. She tried again.”So when someone made a good offer to buy S & S, we sold it and my father retired. The new owners had their own management team…”

Dwayne finished for her.”So here she is, working temporarily for a friend of the family until we find her something suitable.”

Now he turned toward Cash.”Cash, I’d like you to tell Carrie about Cunningham Construction and the position you would like to fill.” As before, he leaned back and folded his arms, fully expecting Cash to comply.

Which he did. Carrie listened carefully, surprised at her sudden interest in the job. As Dwayne had told her earlier, it was everything she wanted. Then why, apart from their disastrous first meeting, was she so apprehensive? Maybe it was his too-good looks. Brian had been handsome, and wealthy, too. Yet something told her that was where the resemblance ended, that Cash Cunningham was nothing like her ex-fiancé. But then, her judgment regarding men left something to be desired.

“There,” Dwayne said, bringing Carrie back to the present.”That wasn’t so difficult.” He opened his planner and held his pen in ready.”Cash, when may we schedule another interview? Perhaps at your office?” .

Cash twisted his wineglass in his hands and swiped at the condensation.”Why don’t I get back to you on that. I’ll have to check my calendar.”

Dwayne looked crushed, but put up a brave front.”Very well. I’ll call you tomorrow and we can discuss it then.” He slid out from the booth and Carrie followed suit, Cash right behind her.

Carrie held out her hand to Dwayne.”Thank you, Dwayne. I appreciate your help.”

“My pleasure, Carrie,” he said, with another limp shake.

She turned to face Cash, not certain what to say. As much as another interview would have been encouraging, she felt a measure of relief at having been politely put off. Before she could speak, he took her hand between both of his. He didn’t shake it, but held it there gently. It was something far more intimate than she would have expected from this button-down executive type.

“It’s…well, it’s been interesting, Ms. Sargent.” A smile lingering on his lips, he turned and left, his hand now on Dwayne’s shoulder, nudging him out the door.

She stood there a moment longer, staring after them. Cash wasn’t going to call her back; she knew that. There were other jobs. She’d find something else in time.

So why did his rejection feel like a sharp jab to the solar plexus?



“What do you mean Sam’s not here?” Cash lowered his voice and tried again. It wasn’t Peg’s fault things were in chaos.”Did you try the yard?”

“Yes, sir. Uh—” she swallowed hard, then finished in a flurry”—his wife just called. He’s sick and won’t be in today.”

“Again? How many times does that make this month?” Peg started for the file cabinet and Cash stopped her.”Never mind, Peg. I’ll look into it later. For now, why don’t you try to find Flutie for me? We need to talk.”

The phone rang and Peg darted back to her desk.

“Good morning, Cunningham Construction.”

“Good morning, Peg. Dwayne Flutie here.”

“Mr. Flutie! I was just about to call you. Just a moment and I’ll transfer you right to Mr. Cunningham.”

With a blueprint propped open with his elbow, Cash picked up the receiver and barked a greeting.”Hello?”

“Cash…Peg tells me you wanted to talk. Could this have anything to do with last night’s meeting in Carmel?”

Cash could hear the dollar signs in Flutie’s tone and mentally calculated how much this decision was going to cost him. He sighed out his answer.”Yes, it does. Why don’t you give her a call and see if we can talk before the lunch crowd arrives? Tell her I can be there by eleven.”

“Wouldn’t you rather she come to your office?”

He didn’t have time to wait for her day off, whenever that might be. If he made an offer, she’d probably have to give notice at the pub.”No. I’d rather go there…as soon as possible.” There was a moment of silence at the other end of the line. “Is there a problem?”

“Well…actually, I have a luncheon appointment I can’t break at this short notice.”

Ah, gee. That’s too bad.”Look…Dwayne…” He swallowed a smirk and forced his voice to remain even.”I promise to behave myself in your absence. And by the way, you were right. She does seem to be the perfect person for the job.”

“Thank you, Cash.” Another pause, then,”You know, I should be the one to discuss her compensation package with her, should you get that far.”

So you can hold me up for the highest possible salary and a higher commission.”Yes, I know.” He purposely avoided answering the question, giving his own directive instead.”Give her a call and let Peg know, okay?”

“I’ll get right on it.”

Cash eyed the blueprint in front of him, then checked his watch. If he left now, he could visit at least one job site and still make it to the pub on time. He rolled up the blueprint, shoved it into its labeled tube and grabbed his briefcase.

As he passed Peg’s desk, he called over his shoulder,”Flutie’s going to be calling me back. Catch me on the mobile with his answer. I’ll be back after two, Peg.”

Peg waved an acknowledgment and picked up the next call.



Carrie replaced the receiver and met Gus’s curious gaze.

“Cunningham wants to talk with me…here at eleven.”

“How ‘bout that! He’s not as pigheaded as I thought he was,” Gus said with a devilish twinkle in his eye. “I think you have a new job, lass.”

A part of her said Gus was right. Another part left her breathless and worried. But there wasn’t time to analyze why. Tables needed setup and the bar needed restocking. She pulled a couple of fifths from the crate, wiped them with a damp cloth and found empty spaces behind Gus. “Even if he makes an offer—which isn’t at all a sure thing-I’ll still give you two weeks’ notice.”

Gus stopped wiping the counter and faced her.”You’ll do no such thing, Carrie Sargent. If he wants you to start tomorrow, you go.”

“But you’ve already scheduled—”

He gripped her by the shoulders and finished her sentence.”I’ve already scheduled you for more hours than two of my regulars…which means they’re grousing among themselves when they know I’m listening. So it’s settled, lass.”

“Why didn’t you tell me, Gus?” She’d half suspected as much from her lukewarm treatment by the other waitresses, but she’d hoped it was just because she was new and had to prove herself.

“Because I knew you’d find something soon and they’d get over it. Besides, the same ones complain when I don’t give ‘em enough time off. So now, Carrie darlin’, do we have a deal?”

She pulled him into a bear hug.”You’re not the crusty old goat you pretend to be, Gus McGee,” she said, a sheen settling over her eyes.

He thumped her on the back and returned to his chores, disguising his own emotions with a gruff response.”Well, we’ll see about that. If ya don’t get those tables ready before I open the door, I might have to fire ya before ya ever set eyes on that Mr. Cunningham.”

She threw a stack of napkins atop a tray of silverware and rushed around the end of the bar, doing her best to feign fear at his idle threat.

Her tasks were barely complete when Gus unlocked the door at 10:30 and a stream of patrons rushed in. Carrie greeted them all with a smile, calling the regulars by name as she ushered them to a booth or table. It was nearly eleven before more help arrived and the customers’ needs were all attended to. She’d intentionally left the front booth by the window unoccupied. Now she noticed the lone figure there. He’d seated himself and was patiently waiting, watching her every move. Dark hair and blue eyes faced her whenever she stole a peek.

Finally Gus took her tray and whispered hear her ear,”What are you waiting for? Christmas? Go talk to the man, lass. We got things covered.”

Carrie wiped her hands on her apron and tucked unruly curls behind each ear, exhaled a long breath and walked to the corner booth. She slid in opposite him, noticing her shortness of breath—which seemed to be a recurring problem whenever she was near this man. Was she intimidated or bedazzled? Either way, she didn’t like it, and she fought for a measure of control.

“Would you like some coffee?” Way to go. Start off subservient. That strengthens your position.

“No, thanks. I’ve had my fill for the day.” His planner was open to blank note pages, with his pen resting on top.”Are you sure you can spare the time now? I don’t want to cause you trouble on the job.”

Well, I’ll be! Sensitivity. Maybe she’d misjudged him.”It’s okay. I told Gus you were coming and he said to take whatever time we need.”

Cash picked up his pen and rolled it in those long, elegant fingers of his—fingers she could picture on a keyboard, rather than a high beam on a construction site. Slow, methodical fingers. She forced her gaze away from his hands. It wasn’t calming her nerves in the least. He raised his head and eyed her, seeming to weigh his words carefully before he spoke.

“Your résumé is impressive and your references think highly of you.”

But? She could feel his hesitation.

“Are you interested in the job?”

She blinked twice, trying not to let her mouth fall open.”Well…yes, I am.” She straightened in her seat.”Is this the time to discuss terms?”

He smiled, then thumbed through his planner for a page of prepared figures, which he tore out and placed on the table. Slowly he turned the page around and slid it closer to her, nodding for her to read.

After one full year—insurance and one week’s vacation. He had to be kidding. She glanced up, hoping to find a teasing smile, but was met by a poker face. She looked back to the paper and skimmed to the last line—compensation.

That did it!

“You can’t be serious?” She shoved the paper back in his direction.

His jaw muscles tightened.”You don’t like the terms?”

“Terms?” She tried to control her temper, but felt it slipping by degrees.”Those aren’t terms.”

“And what would you call them?” His anger flared as easily as hers.

“I’d call them a cash-and-carry discount plan! That’s what I’d call them.”

His anger disappeared, replaced by an amused smirk.”Cash and Carrie.” He paused a moment, considering her words, then laughed a low laugh and shook his head.”We’re bound to be the brunt of a few jokes around the office. Never thought of that before.” Then he met her gaze again.”Okay. I give, Carrie.” He leaned on her name.”What do you think would be fair?”

Carrie relaxed a little, encouraged by his reaction. Anyone with a sense of humor couldn’t be all bad.”First tell me what your policy manual says about insurance and vacation. You can’t very well give me something contrary to the manual.”

Cash closed his planner, leaned back and crossed his arms. His gaze drifted around the room before settling on hers.

“You don’t have a policy manual?” she asked incredulously.

“Have you ever written one?”

“Yes.”

“Then maybe that should be your first task. Are you up to the challenge?” He shot her a coy look, and she picked up his pen.

Retrieving the paper, she scribbled new terms next to his, then slid it back to him.”Are you up to these?” He drummed his fingers in silence, and she thought she’d pushed too far.

Finally he folded the paper, stuffed it in the back pocket of his planner and slid from the booth. Carrie sat looking up at him, her stomach in her throat once again.

“Do you have to give notice?”

She exhaled softly.”No.”

“Will eight tomorrow morning work for you?”

She slid from the booth, her feet now inches from his. She put on her best piece-of-cake smile and pretended not to notice his baby blues gazing down at her.”Eight tomorrow it is.”




Four (#ulink_1c9ecd6e-ec95-5f2a-9e6d-5c554db831dc)


Early Wednesday morning Gus pulled up at the front door. Carrie yawned, then stretched across the car’s console, planting a kiss on his unshaved cheek.”What would I do without you, Gus McGee?”

He waved his hand as though it were no big deal.”What time should I pick ya up, lass?”

“Uh-uh. You take care of happy hour, and I’ll manage on my own.” She opened her door and stepped out, the wind catching her wild mane. With one hand on the door and the other pushing back a heavily moussed tangle of curls, she gave him one last nervous smile.”Thanks, Gus. I’ll tell you all about it tonight.”

“Okay, lass, but if ya find ya need a ride, ya call.”

She shut the door, made a small X over her breast pocket, then waved over her shoulder as she fought a bone-chilling wind the last dozen yards to the entrance.

This weather was just the wake-up call she needed. She’d helped close the pub at 2:00 a.m., then tossed and turned till the alarm sounded at six. Now, as Carrie strode through the front door of Cunningham Construction, butterflies flickered behind her ribcage and a small laugh passed her lips. The last time she walked out that door, she’d been certain she’d never return.

She punched the elevator button and studied the barren atrium with more interest than the first time. It was a massive space that begged for warmth. Maybe everything had been cleared out in anticipation of the holidays. She could picture a tall pine with all the trimmings and large red poinsettias here and there. The door slid open and she stepped in. She smoothed the wrinkles from her navy skirt and straightened the red-white-and-blue scarf that had been tied in a large, loose bow just above the lapels of her red blazer. When she stepped out a moment later, Peggy came around the reception desk and offered her hand.

“Ms. Sargent…welcome! I’m so glad you got the job.” Her handshake was firm and energetic. Carrie smiled back, knowing she’d already made her first friend at Cunningham Construction.

“Thank you, Peggy. I’m glad to be here. But why don’t you call me Carrie? I’m not big on formalities.”

Peggy pumped her hand again, excitedly.”Okay…Carrie. I can’t tell you how happy I am that we’re getting some help around here…especially someone with all your experience.” She finally let go of Carrie’s hand when the phone rang.

Carrie watched the young woman as she answered the phone. There was a smile in her voice, as well as on her face. Cash was lucky to find this one, she decided, just as she saw him round the corner.

“Ms. Sargent! Welcome aboard.” He closed the space between them and extended his hand. She gripped it in hers, remembering the first time he’d taken her hand in both of his. She shook it quickly and let go, an uneasy feeling spreading through her. Poise. Confidence. Where were they when she needed them? Somehow she found her voice.

“Do you mind calling me Carrie?”

“If that’s what you’d like,” he said, and she noticed him giving her a quick once-over. She did look a little like an American flag, but a clean, crisp American flag. Maybe she should go stand in the atrium and brighten things up.

“So…Cash…where do I begin?”

He arched an eyebrow and she knew her mistake instantly. Cash. He hadn’t asked her to call him by his first name. Oh, for Pete’s sake. This was a construction company, not the UN. She continued to smile at him as if she didn’t have a clue his feathers had been ruffled.

Finally he turned around and said,”Follow me.”

His pace was brisk, no-nonsense. She had trouble keeping up. They passed his open door and he turned into the next room, stopping abruptly, with Carrie right on his heels. Somehow she managed to keep from running into him, but when he turned to face her she was close enough to feel his long sigh on her forehead. She stepped back and pretended to take in the room, avoiding those damnable blue eyes.

“This will be your office,” he said, getting right down to brass tacks.

When she finally did look, she saw an eight-foot walnutveneer folding table in the center, surrounded by eight armless brown vinyl chairs. And nothing else. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but this wasn’t it, not in a building as grand as this one.

The carpet was commercial brown tweed. A large glass wall was covered with off-white vertical blinds, the same shade as the flat-painted walls. There had to be a redeeming quality, if she looked hard enough. In her mind’s eye she pictured her first visit. If her memory was right, behind the closed blinds should be a view of the Pacific. With a little work…

“This used to be a conference room,” Cash said, forestalling her decorating ideas.”I never use it anymore, since there’s a larger one with a wet bar in the new wing. Besides, I thought we may find it convenient to be next door to each other.” For some reason he suddenly seemed uncomfortable, but he pushed on.”I’ve ordered a phone, which should be installed Monday. As to the rest, make a list of what you think you’ll need and we’ll talk about it. For now, I’ll take you down to Purchasing and Fran will set you up with basic supplies.”

He started to go and she followed.”And my computer?” she said to his back. He stopped dead in his tracks, and she almost ran into him again. Damn! She wished he’d stop doing that. He turned sideways and eyed her as if she’d just poked a gun in his back.

“Computer?”

“Well, yes. The employee handbook is a very long and arduous project—even with a word processor. And I’ll need desktop publishing for all the related forms. Then I was thinking there would be a company newsletter, and memos for special events…some graphics software would be nice for that—”

Cash held up both hands.”Whoa, slow down. We’ll get you some paper and pencils, stapler, that kind of stuff. Then we’ll see about the rest.”

She saw him roll his eyes as he turned and started off again.

“Of course, I’ll need a desk and an ergonomic chair…”

His head tilted back and he stared at the ceiling, the set of his shoulders telling her he was ready to blow a gasket, but he kept moving. Along the way she noticed work areas separated by free-standing beige partitions. Still no plants, no family photos, no doodads. Unsmiling people hunched over their work, only a few giving her passing notice. The more she saw, the more she knew her first impression of this guy had been right—a self-centered, arrogant iceman. A nice outer package with nothing inside.

When they reached the purchasing department, a middle-aged woman with short gray hair swiveled away from her computer and eyed them curiously. Thank God, a computer! At least he believed in modern technology, Carrie thought as Cash half turned for introductions.

“Fran Wilson, I’d like you to meet Carrie Sargent, our new Human Resources Manager.”

Fran stayed seated and peered over her half-glasses.”Nice to meet you,” she said with cool efficiency.

“Carrie…” His gaze met hers briefly, then flitted away.”I’m going to leave you with Fran. She’ll introduce you around and get your supplies.” He glanced at his watch.”I have an appointment, but I’ll be back just before noon. If you don’t mind working over lunch, we could discuss that list of needs of yours and prioritize a few assignments.” Now he held her steady gaze and awaited a reply.

“F-fine,” she stammered, not sure why she was still here. Flutie had made a big mistake if he thought she could work for this man.

He left her staring after him. She forced her gaze away from the doorway and back to Fran, who seemed to be scrutinizing the new kid’s hair and wardrobe. Fran wore a smart gray knit suit the color of her hair, which meant she was in perfect harmony with her drab surroundings.

Ah, a plethora of challenges. Well, S, if you’re going to stay, there’s no time like the present to meet one of them head-on.

Carrie took a seat in front of Fran’s desk and heaved a sigh. Leaning closer on her elbow, she looked the woman in the eye, smiled and said,”So, Fran…do you have any pets?”



Three hours later Cash jogged up the back stairway and went directly to Carrie’s office, wondering if he’d made a mistake in planning lunch with her the very first day. Surely she’d have more questions later, but by then he’d be out of town. Besides, there was no better time than day one to let her know his employees call him”Mr. Cunningham” and that she’d have to tone down her flamboyant attire.

He pushed a stray hair off his forehead and straightened his tie as he neared her office, never slowing his pace till he crossed her threshold, then he nearly staggered backward. Gone were the folding table and chairs. In their place sat an old oak desk, a typing stand perpendicular to one side, with Carrie pecking away at a computer keyboard atop it. What the—?

“Cash! Isn’t this great?” She gestured with a sweep of her arm.”Fran and I found the desk under a tarp in the shop. We had to move a lot of boxes off it and clean it up, but I love it. Much better than any new thing. The guys in the shop were real sweet and carried it up here. And look at this.” She turned her palm up toward the computer.”Fran said it’s just been gathering dust in the storage room since she got her new one.”

With hands on hips, Cash took it all in. It didn’t have the crisp contemporary feel everything else did, but the price was right.

“I’ll need a new chair, though,” she said, her fingers back at the keyboard, doing who knew what. A person would think she’d been here forever.

She looked up from her work.”Is it time for lunch yet? I could eat the back end of a skunk I’m so hungry.”

He knew his mouth had dropped open, but he found it difficult to either move or speak.

“Oh, I forgot. You’ll probably want to look at your messages first,” she said, pounding away at the computer.

“Uh…right.” He managed to find his voice.”Just give me a minute.” He walked to his office, feeling as though he’d stepped into some time warp, and this was his first day on the job instead of hers.

The feeling lingered on the short drive to Fish Hopper’s and all through lunch as he listened to her ideas for—he had to remind himself—his company.

When she took a breath and drank some iced tea, Cash seized the first quiet moment.”I’m glad you’ve started on the new policy manual, but there’s something else I’d like you to think about.” She set her glass down and waited. Well, what do you know? She can keep her mouth shut.

“There’s been a higher-than-usual amount of turnover and absenteeism lately. Morale seems a little low, too.” Carrie smiled and leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, looking as though he’d just offered her dessert instead of a challenge.”Maybe you could come up with a few ideas to help turn things around.” She seemed to vibrate with enthusiasm, as if she might overflow any moment if he didn’t let her speak. He leaned back in his chair and watched her green eyes widen as she took a deep breath and began.

“I have a couple ideas already.”

Surprise, surprise.

“But will you excuse me a minute? Have to go check out the plumbing.” She started to leave the table, then whispered near his ear,”My dad’s company actually did the plumbing here, you know.”

“No! Really?” He could picture a fleet of work vans with happy-face toilets painted on the sides.

She smiled and gave a proud nod before swinging her hair around and heading toward the restrooms.

Through the tinted window Cash watched a sea lion struggle to top a boulder that rose above shallow waters. Each time he tried, a wave would take him back out. With another valiant effort he shimmied higher, finally flopping over on his back, looking exhausted as he prepared for a nap. He knew just how the guy felt, Cash thought as Carrie rejoined the table.

She turned in her seat and followed his gaze.”Aren’t they adorable?” Then she faced him again.”Do you ever go over to the aquarium and watch the otters? I love the way they groom themselves with their little hands. Kind of like raccoons, don’t you think?”

Cash leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table, steepling his fingers and trying his hardest to get the conversation back on track.”I’ve never been to the aquarium and I’ve never given much thought to sea otters. Now about—”

“You’ve never been to the aquarium? Oh, Cash, you don’t know what you’re missing. Monterey has one of the biggest and best in the world. Some of the tanks are thirty feet high…with sharks in them! You know—” she glanced over her shoulder at the sea lion, then back to Cash”—it would be great to have a Saturday or Sunday outing for all the employees at the aquarium…They could bring their families, too.” She slapped the table, seeming proud of herself.”Yep. Just what you need to boost morale.”

Cash lifted his arm and stared at his watch. Thank God it was time to leave. Just wait till the next time he ran into Flutie. How could that man possibly think she would last at a company like Cunningham?

He picked up the check and calculated fifteen percent. Standing, he extracted two singles from his wallet, then dug in his pocket for change and counted out the thirty-six cents he needed. When he placed the tip on the table, he noticed Carrie eyeing him from the side of her face.

“Come on…We’ll talk more about your…ideas…in the car,” he said, escorting her out.

All the way back to the office, Carrie talked nonstop. She never seemed to falter in her positive attitude and her firm belief that her ideas could solve any problem.

She sprang from her side of the car as soon as they parked and came alongside him.”So what do you think?” she asked.

He thought he had a headache. The fact that he’d be out of town on job sites for the next week only marginally relieved the throbbing in his temples. He should have nipped this thing in the bud. Now he’d have to wait till he got back. He stepped up his pace to the front door and tried to convey his shortness of time, if not patience. She practically ran to keep up.

“Okay,” he conceded.”Your intercompany newsletter idea sounds fine.” And less expensive than some of the other things.”And you can order a new chair.” Whoever replaced her would need one anyway. He opened the door and let her precede him. “Is there anything else for now?” Once inside, he brushed past her and punched the elevator button. She caught up as the door slid open and they stepped in.

“Just one more thing.”

Exasperated, he shot her an impatient glance, and she finished quickly.

“About those morale boosters. There’re a couple of little things I could do while you’re gone that could show immediate results. Nothing extravagant.”

She was looking up at him with those adorable green eyes, reminding him of a little girl pleading for a pony ride. With eyes like those, she’d probably gotten away with her outrageous behavior all her life. It occurred to him to ask exactly how much these”couple of little things” were going to cost him, but then he’d be late for his next appointment while she enumerated the endless details.

The door slid open and he strode toward his office, grabbing a stack of messages off Peggy’s desk as he passed. Carrie was right on his heels. At his doorway he stopped and faced her, making it clear that he had other things to do and she wasn’t invited in.

“Okay. Try a few things.” He watched her face light up, and he couldn’t help but smile.”But be conservative with the spending, okay?” He didn’t wait for an answer, but instead walked to his chair and turned his attention to the messages in his hand.

“Thanks, Cash,” he heard her say, halfway to her own office.

He dropped the notes on his desk. Damn. He’d meant to tell her not to call him that. And her clothes…

He rocked back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his aching head. Oh, my God! I’ve hired a hurricane…and let her loose in my nice, neat, orderly world.

He cracked his neck from side to side trying to alleviate the tension. Maybe he should have been more specific when he told her to keep the spending conservative. Then again, she’d seemed happy with that old desk and computer. Nah. The new employee manual would keep her occupied. He had other things to worry about right now. Next week was soon enough to decide what to do with his new employee.

He picked up the first message and swiveled to the window, phone nestled at his neck. He was getting all worked up over nothing.

Besides…how much damage could she do in just one short week?




Five (#ulink_aa64ec0b-4c2c-5eb9-ac14-8fec15c13844)


“Gus? Am I calling at a bad time?” Carrie hiked her right shoulder to the receiver and lifted a pen and paper from Fran’s desk.

“Nope. Just finished restocking the bar…Ten minutes till I open the door. Everything goin’ okay, lass?”

“Hunky-dory. I just called to get a name and phone number from you. Do you have a business card or receipt or something from that T-shirt place you use for the pub?”

“Hold on. I think I know where I put it.” She heard the phone clunk against the counter and she smiled, picturing the old place. In a way she missed working at Day’s, but this job was right up her alley. Challenges galore. Besides, she had dinner at Day’s most nights and still lived upstairs.

“Here it is,” Gus said, huffing into the phone.”Got a pencil?”

“Yep. Shoot.” She wrote out the name and phone number, then made plans for a late dinner with him. When she hung up, Fran was eyeing her, an obvious question on the tip of her tongue.

“Boyfriend?” she asked shyly, acting as though she knew it was none of her business.

Carrie laughed and shook her head.”No, no. Gus is my father’s best friend…kind of my surrogate dad since mine went back east. I rent an apartment above his pub.” Fran’s eyebrows shot up, concern on her wrinkled brow.”It’s a very nice pub, actually.” Then the idea came to her.”Fran! Why don’t you join us for dinner tonight?”

Her hand flew to her chest.”Oh, no. I couldn’t intrude.”

She was dying to go, and Carrie could see it in the lonely widow’s face.”It won’t be an intrusion at all. You’d be doing me a favor, since I need a ride home anyway.”

Fran smoothed back her perfectly coiffed hair.”Well, if you need a ride—”

“Great! It’s settled then. Unless there’s a problem with Fefe…”

“Oh, no. I go shopping or to movies some nights, and she’s perfectly content to snuggle on the sofa and sleep while I’m gone.” She frowned and thought a moment.”Maybe we should stop by and let her go out to do her business, though.”

“No problem. Then I can meet Fefe in person.” Carrie smiled, pecking her finger at the picture Fran had brought in to show off her toy poodle.”Now…about those T-shirts…”

Another hour and they put down the employee list with a sigh. They’d done their best to guess how many smalls, mediums, larges and extra larges. Now they were debating color and style.

“The knit shirts with collars are nice, don’t you think?” Carrie looked up from the catalog to Fran’s small face. She pushed her glasses a notch higher on her nose, then glanced at Carrie before pointing to the price.

“The T-shirts would be several hundred dollars less…with as many as we have to order.” She shot Carrie a worried”Know what I mean?” look.

“Ah, yes. We’ll have to order some extra, too, in case somebody needs a different size and for future employees. T-shirts it is. Now what about color?”

“The dark teal with mauve lettering is very attractive,” Fran said, looking at the chart.

“Hmm…Yes, it is. But do you think the macho men in the field and shop would like it?”

“I see your point. How about this?” She pointed to a burgundy shirt with a hunter-green logo.

“Ooh. I like that. And with the holidays coming, won’t it look great on everyone…with all the red and green decorations?” Carrie watched Fran purse her lips and drop her chin.”What? Did I say something wrong?”

Fran fidgeted with the corner of the page and avoided eye contact.”No…it’s just that…well, Mr. Cunningham doesn’t decorate for the holidays.”

“You’re kidding?” She wasn’t, by the look on her face.”Well, we’ll just have to see about that, won’t we?” Carrie winked, and the older woman’s mouth curved upward in a conspiratorial grin.

“You don’t mean to say—”

“Oh, yes. That’s exactly what I mean to say.” They shared a silent moment, imagining the shock on Cash’s face when he returned. Suddenly Carrie sprang out of her chair.”You call in the T-shirt order and I’ll go talk to the guys in the yard. They must be clearing at least one job site that has a big pine tree on it.”

With a reassuring pat to Fran’s hand Carrie strode off, devilish excitement pulsing through her veins. It was only Thursday, and Cash wouldn’t be back till next Wednesday afternoon—the day before Thanksgiving. Perfect. He said she could try a few morale boosters. What better way to bring about a few smiles than decorating a Christmas tree? Oh, and of course there was the matter of family photos and plants in each employee’s work space…

It was all she could do to keep from skipping down the hall. She could see the happy faces already. The first newsletter would go out tomorrow, along with paychecks. In it they’d read her suggestions. Yesiree, Bob, by Wednesday afternoon this place would be humming.



Wednesday afternoon Cash stood the collar up on his trench coat and leaned into the biting wind as he made his way to the back door. Just inside, he checked the second hand on his wristwatch, then jogged up the emergency stairwell. At the top of the third floor he looked at his watch again and calculated the time. Damn. Ten seconds slower than last week. He was getting soft. Time for a good workout at the gym.

He took off his coat and folded it over his arm as he strolled down the hall to his office, humming along with the Christmas carol that was playing over the—

He stopped in the middle of the hall and listened. The soft instrumental sounds came from everywhere. He’d never used the sound system except to page someone. Was it a radio or tape? But more important, where had one come from, since the company had never owned either? It took only a heartbeat to figure out who was behind this. Well, he’d just have to set things straight with Ms. Sargent.

With each long stride, the music swelled in his head and he remembered earlier Christmases, times when the sounds of loud singing and bawdy jokes roused him from his boyhood dreams, when glasses were flung into the fireplace amid gales of drunken laughter.

By the time he’d approached Carrie’s office, he’d worked up a good head of steam. How could anyone get a honest day’s work done with music playing? He rounded her corner ready to do battle but the office was empty. Well, not exactly empty. She wasn’t there, but a large potted ficus stood in front of the glass wall, the blinds pulled completely open. A framed portrait of Carrie with her father hung on an adjacent wall. So she’s made herself right at home, has she? Not for long. Hadn’t she noticed there were no personal effects in the other employees’ areas? If she had, did she think it coincidental?

He stood in the doorway and pushed his suit coat back with his balled fists, wondering where the loose cannon he’d hired was hiding…and why he’d ever hired her in the first place. God knew there’d been enough warning signs that spelled Trouble.

He stalked to his own office, threw his top coat over a side chair and went in search of Trouble. It shouldn’t be hard to find all that red hair, not to mention she never shut up. He could hardly wait to see what kind of getup she had on today. He wondered if she even owned a simple navy or gray suit.

He started with Peggy, but she wasn’t at her desk, either. He noticed the answering system had been switched on. At three o’clock in the afternoon? Now whose idea was that? He raked his hair with his fingers and nodded his head. Stupid question.

He headed for Fran’s desk. Certainly she’d know what was going on.

But when he got there, instead of Fran, he found an ornately framed photo of a pompadoured gray poodle next to a flowing English ivy that cascaded to the floor. Pivoting in the aisle, he saw more of the same on other desks. One short week and the place looked like some great-grandmother’s parlor. Plants and photos, plants and photos…

He heard laughter and voices from somewhere and stopped to listen. They were coming from the atrium. A moment later he was back at the elevator, punching the button for the third time. He was tempted to take the stairs when the door finally opened. He rode to the lobby, seething. Didn’t anybody believe in work around here? He’d been out of town many times before, and nothing like this had ever happened. He would have thought his old-timers would…The elevator opened, and the music he’d heard earlier grew louder, along with laughter and the shuffling of boxes, tinkling of…

He bounded out and came to a dead stop. Hands on hips, he stared at the atrium in front of him, not believing what his eyes told him. Dozens of busy little elves dressed in burgundy-and-green T-shirts darted around in front of a tree that towered at least twenty feet above them. Tall ladders had been erected on all sides, with employees perched near the top leaning into the tree. Bulbs were being handed to them from a chain of hands stationed on lower rungs and the floor below.




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