Make-Believe Beau
Make-Believe Beau
Keli Gwyn
The Courtship CharadeA draftswoman in a man’s world, Jessica Sinclair’s presence causes a stir as her new male colleagues vie for her attention. And the company manager has an ultimatum: fake a courtship with her boss, Flynt Kavanaugh…or lose her job. But pretending to be smitten with the handsome engineer unleashes a real, complicated attraction—and could reveal the past she hoped to keep hidden.Jessica is certainly the best person for the job. But as their make-believe romance escalates, Flynt knows that’s not the only reason he wants her on his team. However, with his past shrouded by a shameful secret, Flynt has always focused his ambitions on building a career, not a family. Now he has designs on Jessica’s heart, but can they trust each other with the truth?
The Courtship Charade
As a draftswoman in a man’s world, Jessica Sinclair causes a stir as her new male colleagues vie for her attention. And the company manager has an ultimatum: fake a courtship with her boss, Flynt Kavanaugh…or lose her job. But pretending to be smitten with the handsome engineer unleashes a real, complicated attraction—and could reveal the past she hoped to keep hidden.
Jessica is certainly the best person for the job. But as their make-believe romance escalates, Flynt knows that’s not the only reason he wants her on his team. However, with his past shrouded by a shameful secret, Flynt has always focused his ambitions on building a career, not a family. Now he has designs on Jessica’s heart, but can they trust each other with the truth?
“You’re not going to kiss me, are you?”
The idea appealed to him more than he cared to admit. “Not unless it’s necessary, but if I look like I’m thinking about it, Mrs. Monroe is sure to draw the conclusions we want her to.”
“That makes sense.” She moistened those enticing lips, a gesture that made keeping his mind on the conversation increasingly difficult. “I should be going.”
And yet she stood gazing at him. The lantern in the parlor didn’t cast enough light for him to make out her expression, but she gripped his hands firmly, as though she didn’t want to let go. Or was he the one holding her tightly?
He released her, stepped back to a gentlemanly distance and doffed his hat.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yes. Tomorrow.”
He bounded down the steps, expecting to hear the door open and close behind him. He’d reached the street, and yet Jessie hadn’t moved. She stood staring into the darkness with her fingertips pressed to her lips, unmoving.
Award-winning author KELI GWYN, a native Californian, transports readers to the early days of the Golden State. She and her husband live in the heart of California’s Gold Country. Her favorite places to visit are her fictional worlds, historical museums and other Gold Rush–era towns. Keli loves hearing from readers and invites you to visit her Victorian-style cyberhome at keligwyn.com (http://keligwyn.com), where you’ll find her contact information.
Make-Believe Beau
Keli Gwyn
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Remember not the sins of
my youth, nor my transgressions:
according to thy mercy
remember thou me
for thy goodness’ sake, O Lord.
—Psalms 25:7
Acknowledgments (#ulink_fe28bc48-1de6-5c54-b064-8107b37004aa)
Writing is said to be a solitary endeavor, but that is not the case for me. The following people have made valuable contributions to this story, and I greatly appreciate each of them.
My savvy editor, Emily Rodmell, helps me smooth the rough edges of my stories and polish them until they shine.
My agent, Rachelle Gardner, brings her vast publishing experience to play, but she also encourages and supports me along the way.
My writing partners, Anne and Adri, offer valuable input at the earliest stages of a story and enable me to send the cleanest drafts possible to my editor.
My husband, Carl, brainstorms my stories with me and gives me the male perspective.
My mother, Patricia Lannon, a former draftswoman, educated me on her chosen profession and enlightened me on the challenges of being a woman working in a male-dominated field.
My friend Bob Courtemanche, a retired physics teacher who has explored the El Dorado Canal up close and personal, gave me a clearer picture of our water supply system and bolstered my knowledge of fluid dynamics.
My friend Rachael Duke, an accomplished equestrian, answered numerous technical questions regarding horses and horsemanship.
Contents
Cover (#u6c6b1fc4-a2f2-55b2-8ca5-e2c18644a37e)
Back Cover Text (#ubb34593d-0423-550f-9cd0-41b83b531a71)
INtroduction (#u1b7a00db-63b7-5fcd-943a-d8e9983541eb)
About the Author (#u2be9d26f-0ee2-5172-a957-da01238a3778)
Title Page (#u4e70949d-f8e1-5a54-9b12-c16f017eb0f5)
Bible Verse (#uf4efdce6-4a5c-555f-9f47-ab77eb40c4c4)
Acknowledgments (#u2ff9a5a1-ad2a-5d98-90e5-74331efecb0c)
Chapter One (#u45896465-8034-5b94-85b7-1a38e00d1165)
Chapter Two (#ub769064b-0716-5f29-9321-02f07847a8eb)
Chapter Three (#u531e5a6d-e7fd-5703-a00f-6d88331eca63)
Chapter Four (#u915ff4a5-d5c9-510d-84b6-b1a5e8f3e787)
Chapter Five (#u7ccd9bbd-4309-5ef9-a084-42622e161c5d)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_ef0d9a2c-748b-5bbc-becf-153afb45e508)
Placerville, California
June 1874
“I understand your reservations about hiring a draftswoman, but I’ve seen Miss Sinclair’s work, and it’s exemplary.”
Flynt Kavanaugh leaned back in his chair and studied Carter Corbin, seated opposite him behind the expansive desk. His boss’s scowl was so pronounced that his bushy gray eyebrows appeared as one.
“So you’ve said.” Corby, as everyone called the shrewd manager, folded his arms over his ample midsection. His features relaxed. An encouraging sign. “While I don’t cotton to having a woman join the team, when an engineer of your caliber says the lady in question is worth considering, the least I can do is interview her.”
Corby rummaged in his jacket’s breast pocket and produced a silver cigar case. “Don’t get your hopes up, though, son. An impressive portfolio is one thing. Producing quality drawings with the speed we require is another.”
Flynt shrugged off the cautious man’s concerns. Corby might not be quick to embrace change, but he was fair.
Once his boss saw Jessica Sinclair’s drawings, he’d have no choice but to admit she was the best person for the job. If everything Bishop had said was true, Miss Sinclair would have no trouble creating plenty more drawings on par with those he’d sent along with his glowing recommendation. The exacting engineer wasn’t one to exaggerate.
Corby opened his cigar case, releasing the pungent aroma of expensive tobacco, and offered Flynt one of the Cuban cigars. “Help yourself.”
“No, thanks. I don’t smoke.” He didn’t drink, either. Unlike the majority of men working on the El Dorado Canal, he refused to set foot in a saloon, although there were a number of them in town. He’d seen too many lives destroyed by a fondness for liquor and loose living.
Corby selected a cigar and slipped the sterling silver case back into his breast pocket. “You’re a fine leader, Flynt, but it’s possible you’ve shown a lapse in judgment this time. Having a woman around could complicate things.”
“Perhaps, but if she possesses the necessary skills, we’d be foolish to overlook her simply because she wears skirts. Kurt does a fine job as lead draftsman, but he lacks the mathematical prowess for the more complicated drawings.” Flynt needed someone who could take his ideas, perform the required calculations and produce conceptual drawings on occasion, but designing draftsmen were a rarity. That was why he’d invited Miss Sinclair up to Placerville for the interview.
The clip of boot heels interrupted his thoughts. “That must be her.” He jumped to his feet and rushed into the hallway, eager to meet the woman behind the drawings for the first time.
At the sight of Miss Sinclair, his heart broke into a gallop. Bishop had said she was comely, but that was an understatement. Striking would be a more apt description. The rich auburn locks visible beneath her simple bonnet gleamed in the sunlight streaming through the window. Her light-brown outfit was as unremarkable as her hat. It appeared she didn’t go in for the frills many women did. Even so, she would turn any man’s head.
But not his. He had no time for romantic pursuits. His career required his utmost attention. He would treat Miss Sinclair like any other member of his team.
She reached him and stated her business without hesitation. “Good morning. I’m here for my interview.”
He swallowed to moisten his throat, which had become dry. “I, um, figured you were.”
“To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?”
He gazed into the greenest eyes he’d ever seen. They glittered like emeralds, an intriguing sight. If a man looked into them too long, he might say just about anything. “I’m Flynt Kavanaugh, the engineer. Mr. Corbin, or Corby, as we all call him, is the manager. He’s inside.” Flynt tilted his head toward the office to his left.
The self-assured woman stood so close he got a whiff of her perfume. She smelled like spring. An image of picnics among wildflowers came to mind.
“I’m Jessica Sinclair.” She held out her hand, and he shook it. “I look forward to working with you, Mr. Kavanaugh.”
“Whether you will or not remains to be seen. You must complete the interview and land the job first.” He hoped she would, but she’d have to prove herself worthy of the position—and overcome Corby’s reluctance.
She gripped the strap of the cylindrical leather drawing case slung over her shoulder and studied him intently. One perfectly arched eyebrow rose, and her mouth quirked in a quizzical smile he found strangely appealing. “I see.”
“What exactly do you see?”
“A man who feels threatened by an intelligent woman invading his world, which I find odd. I was told you welcomed my application.”
The woman’s confidence could serve her well. “I do. I’ve heard enough to understand you can handle the job. Corby, on the other hand, needs convincing.”
“Oh.” She blinked several times, drawing attention to her long lashes. “Forgive me, Mr. Kavanaugh. I’m not used to a man as open-minded as you are.”
Her willingness to admit her mistake and follow it with a sincere compliment spoke to her character. “Please, call me Flynt.”
“Flint. Like the stone, I presume? A hard edge and useful when one wants to create sparks?” Her lovely lips twitched, as though she was stifling a laugh.
He drew his gaze from the captivating sight. “It’s Flynt. With a Y.”
She smiled once again, but this smile was as warm as the June day. “Well, Flynt with a Y, it’s clear working with you will be full of surprises.”
“Likewise, I’m sure.” Miss Sinclair had spice. Unlike most women he knew, she spoke her mind. There would be no simpering behind fans for her, which was refreshing. He’d witnessed more coquetry in his early days than he cared to remember.
“Since you seem to prefer informality, you may call me Jessie.”
A lovely name for a lovely lady. “Very well. I’ll introduce you to Corby now.” He was tempted to warn her not to be intimidated by Corby’s gruffness, but it was clear Jessie could handle herself.
Flynt made short work of the introductions. He and Jessie settled into the chairs in front of Corby’s desk.
The older man tugged at the ends of his heavily waxed handlebar mustache. “Why should I hire you, Miss Sinclair? Having a woman around is sure to stir up trouble.”
“Because I can do the job and do it well. Here. Let me show you.” She reached for the drawing case she’d propped against her chair, unfastened the buckle and withdrew the contents, which she held out to Corby. “I believe my work will speak for itself.”
Corby’s eyes widened and then narrowed. “You’re rather presumptuous, young lady.”
Flynt fought the urge to intervene. He wouldn’t do that for a man, so he couldn’t do that for her. If Jessie was to work here, she’d have to learn to deal with Corby’s brashness.
Jessie lifted her chin and leveled her gaze at Corby, her green eyes flashing. “You haven’t even looked at my drawings, sir, and yet it appears you’ve made up your mind to find fault with me simply because I’m a woman. I’d like to think you’ll give me the same consideration you would any other prospective employee.”
“All right. Show me.” Corby pointed to the rectangular conference table along the far wall of his office.
The forthright woman marched to the table and spread the stack of drawings on the tabletop, holding them down to keep them from curling. Corby stood beside her, his focus on the topmost sheet. Although he wasn’t an engineer, he did have some drafting experience. Hopefully enough to know what he was looking at. Even if he couldn’t follow the math, he could judge the quality of the drawings.
Flynt leaned back against the table with his arms and ankles crossed, watching the proceedings with interest. He’d learned about Jessie during an unexpected encounter with Bishop. Impressed by the drawings his friend had sent up prior to the interview, Flynt had sung her praises to Corby. He could do no more. Please, Lord, let her overcome Corby’s objections.
Any designing draftsman would do, but Flynt wanted Jessie. He hadn’t felt so strongly about a potential employee before, but he needed someone with her skills. Plus, Corby’s unfounded prejudice against her grated on Flynt. She deserved the opportunity to prove herself worthy of the position.
Although her work was exceptional, his desire to hire her was reinforced by his growing respect for the bright woman with a backbone of steel. It had nothing to do with her arresting good looks or her radiant smile. Nothing at all.
* * *
Only by tapping into her self-control was Jessie able to resist the urge to increase the distance between her and Mr. Corbin. The man’s overbearing manner rankled. What was worse was the scent of tobacco smoke that clung to him, bringing back memories of her days singing at the High Stakes Saloon.
No. She wouldn’t think about the past. She had a promising future, provided she secured this position at the El Dorado Water and Deep Gravel Mining Company. When her previous drafting job at a small irrigation company had come to an end, she’d set her sights on getting a more prestigious one. If that meant enduring yet another man’s scrutiny and proving herself capable in his eyes, so be it. She’d done it before, and she could do it again. “Are you finished with this one, sir? I do have three more drawings for you to look at.”
Mr. Corbin cleared his throat. “I’ll let you know when I’ve seen enough.”
She caught Flynt’s eye. He winked. At her. Not in a flirtatious manner, but all the same, his encouraging gesture surprised her. She preferred to keep things with her colleagues professional. Never would she let a man guess she was anything but a proper lady.
Which she was. Although she’d spent two years as a singer in Ace’s establishment, she wasn’t like the other girls. Miss Maggie might have taught her how to flirt, a lesson she’d learned well, but when Ace offered her the position, she’d made him promise that no man would be permitted to lay a hand on her. And none had. Not even Ace.
“Show me the next one,” Mr. Corbin barked.
“Certainly, sir.” She flipped to the second of the four drawings.
With the prickly manager occupied and Flynt, who stood beside him, focused on her work, as well, she was free to cast sidelong glances at the intriguing engineer. What an arresting profile he had, with his broad forehead and chiseled jawline.
A thick lock of his copper-colored hair had fallen across his forehead. She rarely encountered a red-haired man, although she was partial to the color. Others had teased her about her auburn tresses, but she counted them a blessing. After all, her red hair was what had kept her from going hungry.
That and her green eyes. Men did like looking into them. Flynt had. If he knew he’d been staring at her, wide-eyed, when he’d first seen her, he would probably cringe. For some reason, knowing he’d been enthralled tickled her.
While she didn’t set out to use her physical appearance to her advantage, a woman did enjoy appreciative glances. The Lord deserved all the credit as her Creator, but she got to enjoy the admiration His handiwork brought about.
Jessie’s shoulders were protesting by the time Mr. Corbin completed his examination. She heaved a grateful sigh, put the drawings back in her case and returned to the utilitarian bentwood chair she’d occupied earlier.
The portly man plopped into his large leather wingback chair, reached for a cigar lying on his desk and passed it under his nose, inhaling audibly. He’d spent the last five minutes doing nothing but grunting every now and then. If he didn’t say something soon, she’d—
“So, what do you think, Corby?” Flynt, seated beside her once again, leaned forward. “Her work is exceptional, isn’t it?”
She hadn’t expected Flynt to be so supportive, but he was acting as her advocate. And what had she done? Made a fool of herself, that was what. She’d come right out and accused him of feeling threatened by her, which clearly he wasn’t. At least she’d realized her mistake promptly. In a gentlemanly fashion, he’d accepted her apology and seemed to harbor her no ill will.
“What do I think?” Mr. Corbin’s question jolted her back to the present. “I’ve seen enough to warrant a trial.” He shifted his focus from Flynt to her. “I’d like you to complete a drawing for us, Miss Sinclair. I want to see what you can do when the pressure’s on.”
“That’s understandable. I’ll do whatever you’d like.”
The skeptical manager pinned her with an intense gaze. “I’m willing to let you finish the interview process since Flynt has vouched for you, but I believe having a woman working here could invite trouble. What do you think the men will do when you walk in there?” He inclined his head toward a large drafting room visible through the office’s side window. “They’ll take their eyes off their boards and clap them on you, that’s what.”
She pasted on her most reassuring smile. “You needn’t concern yourself with that. I’ve had plenty of experience dealing with men’s stares and attitudes.” More than he could possibly imagine. “I can handle myself.”
“It’s not you I’m worried about. It’s the deadlines we have to meet. The directors want to see progress. I can’t afford any slowdowns.”
Flynt intervened once again. “You’re right, Corby. Having a woman on the team will change things, but change can bring about improvements.”
While she appreciated Flynt’s support, the man himself was a puzzle. One minute he addressed her as a business associate, and the next his gaze roved over her with what she could only describe as attraction. Or was it simply admiration? Yes, that must be it.
Silence hung in the air until Flynt broke it. “My men are likely to work harder to impress Jessie.”
Corby scoffed. “I reckon the fellows will be more interested in her than they are in their work. Mark my words. They’ll produce fewer drawings because of her. Not more.” He shifted his attention to Jessie. “Why did you become a draftsman—draftswoman, anyhow? It’s not...normal.”
She’d fielded that question more times than she could count. “Few men are willing to believe a woman desires to do anything other than bear children, fix meals and wash clothes. But we’re capable of more than that, although few of us are given the opportunity. Be that as it may, I have nothing but respect for the women who’ve chosen marriage and motherhood.”
With her questionable past, she couldn’t aspire to either, no matter how much the idea of being loved and loving someone in return appealed to her. “Because I have neither a husband nor children, I’m forced to provide for myself, just as you are. I have an affinity for arithmetic and have found a profession that utilizes my skills. I happen to enjoy it, too.”
Mr. Corbin scowled. “You’re not one of those suffragettes, are you?”
She chose her words carefully. “I don’t stand in protest lines, no, but I am sympathetic to the plight of women. Perhaps one day our voices will be heard. In the meantime, I’m content to do my job to the best of my ability.”
“Good. It sounds like you know your place.”
Jessie bit back a sharp retort. Traditionally minded men such as Mr. Corbin couldn’t be won over with mere words. She needed to show him what she could do. “I’m ready to move on to the next stage of the interview, sir.”
Mr. Corbin shook his head. If Jessie wasn’t mistaken, he was smiling, although with that enormous handlebar mustache hiding his upper lip, she couldn’t be sure. “You’re certainly eager, young lady. I’ll grant you that. Flynt can take you out and get you started on a drawing. He’ll oversee your work, but the final decision is mine.”
Jessie accompanied Flynt to the rectangular drafting room. Four identical drafting tables faced a bank of large windows on the west side of the room. Four heads turned toward her, curiosity evident in each face.
Flynt introduced her to his team, once again the professional engineer. “Gentlemen, this is Miss Jessica Sinclair. She’s going to complete a drawing for me.”
She smiled and nodded a greeting at each of the young men in turn. She received two answering smiles and two frowns.
A sandy-haired fellow at the drafting table farthest from her jumped off his stool and approached. “Welcome, Miss Sinclair. It’s not every day we welcome a fine lady like you into the Den.”
“The Den? Is that what you call your drawing office?”
“Yup. The mine over yonder is called Coon Hollow.” The draftsman, a fence post of a fellow who looked all of nineteen, inclined his head toward the windowless eastern wall. “Since raccoons spend a good part of their year holed up in dens like we do in our office, we fellows dubbed this the Den.”
“Well, I’m honored to be in your Den and am pleased to meet you, Mr....?”
“My name’s Rufus Rawlings, but everyone calls me Trace on account of I do nothing but tracings most of the time. Every now and then Flynt lets me draw something on my own, though.”
As the lone woman in a man’s world, she’d learned long ago to cultivate all the friendships she could. “I spent a year doing the same. Tracings are an essential contribution to any engineering firm. Without them, valuable information could be lost if an original were to get damaged.”
Trace turned to his colleagues with a mile-wide smile on his face. “Did you hear that, fellows? My tracings are ‘essential contributions.’”
The dour draftsman at the table beside Trace’s grumbled. “Just what we need. Trace all puffed up.”
“That’s enough, Arnold.” Flynt returned his attention to Trace. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, but those tracings won’t get done if you’re standing here talking.”
“Right, sir. I’ll get to work on my— What were they called again? Oh, yes. My ‘essential contributions.’” He grinned at Jessie and returned to his board.
“Come, Jessie.” Flynt held out a hand toward a magnificent drafting table at the front of the room, set apart from the others. “I’ll get you started.”
She followed, speaking in a low voice. “Trace is certainly enthusiastic, isn’t he?”
“I could give the lad more interesting assignments if he weren’t so slow and meticulous, but he lacks the confidence that comes with experience.” Flynt paused and pulled a sheet of paper from one of the drafting cabinets running down the center of the room.
“And yet you’ve kept him on?”
“I’m all for giving a man an opportunity to prove himself. Or a woman.” He sent her a sidelong glance—and a warm smile that transformed him from simply good-looking to delightfully handsome.
No. She mustn’t allow herself to notice such things. Her success depended on keeping a level head and doing exceptional work. In order to be accepted, she had to perform better and faster than the men in the office. At the same time, she couldn’t say or do anything that could be perceived as a threat to them and their positions. She often felt like she was teetering on a tightrope high above the earth, with her male colleagues below her hoping she would come crashing down.
But Flynt was different. She’d sung for hundreds of men at the High Stakes, and yet none of them had shown her the kindness or consideration he had. If she were looking for a romantic relationship, he was the type of man she’d be drawn to.
Not that she could consider such a thing. A bright, successful engineer would want a proper woman, not someone who’d spent two years in a saloon entertaining a roomful of rowdy men. Even though she’d been modestly dressed and had never spent time alone with a single High Stakes customer, she bore the stain of her past. She’d seen how the women at her church back East had flocked together, their feathers ruffled, when the minister’s wife had invited her to attend services.
But the Lord had accepted her and provided a way for her to leave that life behind. And here she was, a respectable woman with a rewarding profession.
Provided no one learned her shameful secret.
Chapter Two (#ulink_5a1b3c3c-a68c-53e2-b84c-9a110f47d5fc)
In no time, Flynt had a sheet of drafting paper adhered to his board. In order for Jessie to convince Corby she was the right person for the job, she would need to handle a challenging assignment. He had one in mind.
“Before you begin, I want to give you an overview of the project.” He gestured with one hand. “After you.”
She covered the distance quickly and faced the back wall, studying the twenty-foot-long drawing of the canal stretched across its surface and looking...enraptured. That was the only word he could think of to describe the wide-eyed wonder on her lovely face. She turned toward him, her eyes alight. “This is magnificent! The Weber Creek Ditch I worked on was just six miles long, but if I read things correctly, the El Dorado Canal is going to be over thirty, with a good four miles of wooden flumes.”
“That’s right.”
Her forehead furrowed. “Why are you smiling?”
Was he? He schooled his features. “You really do enjoy the work, don’t you?”
“Very much.” She straightened to her full height, bringing the top of her head level with his shoulder. With her standing so close, he could imagine taking her in his arms, gazing into her sparkling green eyes and lowering his face until his lips brushed—
What was he doing harboring such thoughts? He had no intention of courting anyone, especially a potential colleague. Women couldn’t be trusted. His mother, a successful madam who’d abandoned him at the age of seven, and Ma Hagerty, who’d taken him in and promptly broken her promise to treat him like her own son, had taught him that.
Jessie assumed a businesslike tone. “If I’m to overcome Mr. Corbin’s objections, I should get to work on that drawing. What do you have in mind?”
While he admired Miss Jessica Sinclair, professional draftswoman, with her forthright manner, he’d enjoyed a glimpse of the gleeful girl inside her. “I’d like you to do a preliminary drawing of the next section.”
Moments later he stood at his drafting board with Jessie at his side studying the surveyor’s notes he’d handed her. “I understand what I’m to do, so I can get started.”
“Very well.” He opened the cabinet beneath his board, where he kept his rulers, compasses, drawing pens and such. “Help yourself to whatever you need.”
She blinked several times, once again drawing his attention to her long lashes and those gorgeous green eyes. He had to force himself not to stare.
“That’s an impressive collection. While I appreciate your offer, I have my own tools, which I left with the clerk in the lobby. I’ll get them.” She took two steps and stopped. “I’d like to wash my hands before I begin so I don’t soil my drawing. Where might I do that?”
“There’s a small closet with a washstand opposite Corby’s office. You’ll find plenty of pegs for hats and coats. Feel free to claim one of the empty shelves for your lunch pail, drawing case and anything else you brought.”
“Very good. I’ll be back shortly.”
No sooner had Jessie left the room than two of Flynt’s draftsmen descended on him. The ever-exuberant Trace reached him first. “Is she going to be working with us?”
“Could be. We’ll know soon enough.”
“Whoo whee! Won’t that be fun?”
“No!” Kurt, who sat at the board nearest Flynt’s, joined them. Could the young man’s scowl be any more pronounced? “We don’t need a dame here.”
Flynt bit back a rebuke. “Miss Sinclair is a lady, and we’ll treat her accordingly.”
“Fine,” Kurt muttered. “If you want to hire a woman, that’s your business, but I don’t have to like it.”
“No, but I don’t want to hear any disparaging terms. Now, how about returning to your stations, gentlemen? You have work to do.”
Kurt trudged back to his board. His outburst was understandable. He’d worked hard to establish himself as the lead draftsman. To have his position threatened by another man would be tough, but having the threat come from a woman could be even harder to take.
Trace leaned close and lowered his voice. “You don’t have to worry on my account, sir. I think she’s nice.”
Jessie returned a short time later looking rather, well, cute. She’d removed her hat, revealing her full head of striking auburn hair, and donned a black apron and matching sleeve protectors. Since she couldn’t work in rolled-up shirtsleeves as he and his men did, her precautions made sense. Through the years he’d ended up with a number of India-ink stains on his clothing.
She wound his stool up to the proper height for her and hopped onto the padded leather seat. The rungs weren’t in the right place for her to rest her feet comfortably, and yet she didn’t complain. She just got to work performing her initial calculations on a sheet of scrap paper.
He plunked a spare stool beside his board, close enough to see everything, but far enough away so as not to crowd her. Since she was using his drafting table, he couldn’t work on a drawing. Not that he minded this opportunity to study her. She was a sight to behold.
She reached for a ruler in her tool case on the small side table and paused. “Are you going to sit there the entire time?”
“I’d planned to. Why? Does that bother you?”
“A little, perhaps, but I can deal with it.”
He appreciated her honesty. “I can tell a lot from looking at a drawing, but I can’t evaluate the effectiveness of a person’s methods unless I watch him or her work.” Based on what he’d seen so far, Jessie was accurate, thorough and exacting, the very traits he sought.
“Well, then, I’ll just have to ignore you as best I can.” She gave him a saucy smile.
He grabbed a sketch pad and pencil and doodled, a longtime habit of his. Although plenty of work awaited him, he wouldn’t be able to concentrate, not with Jessie close by smelling like— What was it exactly? He inhaled deeply. Lilac. No wonder thoughts of spring had come to mind when he’d first met her.
Her penciled drawing took shape far more quickly than he would have expected. He forced himself to observe her from his stool. Although he was tempted to take a closer look, there would be time for that later.
She had the most appealing way of humming to herself as she worked, so softly that he would be surprised if any of the other men could hear. Her repertoire consisted entirely of hymns. She, too, must have put her faith in Christ.
The morning passed more quickly than Flynt had expected. In addition to watching Jessie work, he’d fielded an unprecedented number of questions from the draftsmen, even Kurt, who wouldn’t ask for help unless absolutely necessary. The fellows had also worn a groove in the floorboards with their frequent trips to the privy out back. Each time one of the men passed by, he paused to peer at Jessie’s drawing or make an idle comment. She’d dealt with each interruption graciously and gotten back to work as quickly as possible.
George left his station beside Kurt’s and ambled over. “It’s noon, Miss Sinclair. I wondered if you’d like to eat your lunch in the shade of that large oak out front. I’d be happy to keep you company.”
The invitation didn’t surprise Flynt. George fancied himself a ladies’ man.
Jessie flashed George a friendly smile. “What a wonderful idea. The others could join us, too, enabling all of us to get acquainted.”
Flynt had to hand it to her. She’d deflected George’s advances with finesse.
The room cleared quickly. A jolt of excitement surged through Flynt. He could examine Jessie’s drawing at last. If he wasn’t mistaken, Corby would be forced to admit that she was the right person for the job.
She stepped back into the room, her lunch pail in hand. “Did you plan on eating with us?”
“Not today. I want to talk with Corby.” He did. After he’d reviewed her work.
“Very well.” She rubbed her lower back with her free hand.
He’d noticed her roll her shoulders a few times as she worked, too. “Are you all right?”
“Just a bit stiff, that’s all. I’ll see you later.” She left, her boot heels thudding on the wooden floor.
Alone at last. He stood before her drawing, scrutinizing every detail, checking every angle, verifying every calculation. His admiration grew. If her final inked copy was on par with her penciled version, Corby would have no choice but to accept her as a member of the team.
Flynt strode to Corby’s office and opened the door. A whiff of cigar smoke greeted him. “Do you have a minute?”
Corby beckoned Flynt inside. “Come to lobby for your candidate, have you?” He snuffed out his cigar.
“Her work is outstanding. You can see for yourself.” He held out a hand toward the Den. “I assigned her a drawing that would challenge even the most seasoned draftsman, and yet she tackled it without hesitation.”
“You want me to hire her, don’t you? Even though she’s already created a stir? I saw the trail of men heading her way. They were like ants drawn to a sugar bowl.”
Flynt plopped into one of the chairs in front of Corby’s desk. “They’ve been trooping by, yes, but the novelty will fade soon enough.” He certainly hoped that was the case. George was so infatuated it was a wonder he’d gotten any work done. Not that Flynt could blame him. Jessie was a distraction, albeit a pleasant one.
“And if it doesn’t? What then?”
“I’m sure it will. But if not, I’ll do whatever’s necessary to restore order.”
Corby’s bushy eyebrows formed a V. “You’re not smitten or anything, are you?”
“No, sir!” He wasn’t. He couldn’t be. “It’s just that she’s what I need. I mean her work is.”
“I see. So you’re asking me to set aside my concerns and offer her the job? Well, son, since you’ve assured me you’ll do whatever’s necessary to make this work, I’ll take a look at her drawing. And I’ll keep an open mind.”
“I appreciate that.”
Corby followed Flynt to the Den and studied Jessie’s drawing—with a magnifying glass. Flynt waited expectantly for his boss’s assessment.
At length Corby completed his examination. “She’s good, I’ll grant you that, but I have my reservations. We’ll have to see how things go. Now, if you’ve seen enough and are satisfied with the way she goes about her work, do you think you could resume yours? I don’t want us to fall behind.”
“Certainly. Arnold’s tooth has been troubling him, so he headed downtown to have it extracted. He’ll be out this afternoon and tomorrow, so I can use his board.” Because Arnold had been in pain, he’d said little to Jessie. His glare had done the talking for him. Evidently he didn’t like having her there any more than Kurt did.
“That will do, until her drafting table arrives.”
Flynt couldn’t hide his surprise. “You’ve already ordered one? But I didn’t think you wanted—”
“I’m not blind. I saw how adamant you were about hiring Jessie. I have my reservations, but I wouldn’t be much of a manager if I didn’t take my engineer’s preferences into account. And you want the lovely lady.” Corby clapped a hand on Flynt’s shoulder. “Can’t say as I blame you. If I were a young man, my head would be turned, too.”
“It’s not like that. She’s the best qualified.”
“So you’ve said. Her board will be delivered tomorrow.” Corby headed toward his office, stopped and spun on his heel. “Just see that your men get their work done, or I’ll have to intervene.”
Flynt blew out a breath. He’d worked hard to ensure that things in the Den ran smoothly, but they’d gotten a lot more interesting. He would have to do some serious thinking about how to regain control without singling Jessie out because he wanted her on his team. More than he cared to admit.
* * *
The rugged beauty of the Sierra Foothills appealed to Jessie. From her seat in the back of the wagon sent to transport Flynt’s team from their offices down to Placerville’s main street at the end of the workday, she had a good view of the valley below. A few sprawling oaks and some scrubby manzanita bushes dotted the steep sides of the ravine to the west. All the pine trees for miles around had been cut down to provide wood for the growing town.
Somewhere far below, Weber Creek wove its way through the gorge. As the hot, dry summer wore on, the water currently flowing freely would dwindle, leaving residents eager for the first rain of the season come September. Not too many years from now, thanks to the efforts of her new employer, the El Dorado Canal would carry the plentiful water from alpine lakes in the Sierras to the thirsty valley below. Being part of such a grand undertaking was a dream come true. And she would be part of it because she’d gotten the job and would be working alongside Flynt. He’d told her just before quitting time that once she completed the inked version of her drawing the next day, he would sign off on it.
The handsome engineer sat to her right on the plank wagon seat. She stole a glance at him, as she had several times during the day. Why she felt herself drawn to Flynt, she didn’t know. Perhaps it was the creases that bracketed his mouth, evidence of many smiles, or his wavy hair that begged to be touched. Not that she would ever dream of doing such a thing, even though that unruly lock had fallen across his forehead. Again.
She shifted to a more comfortable position. Because Flynt’s stool wasn’t designed for a person of her stature, her shoulders and lower back had begun protesting even before George had invited her to eat lunch with him. They ached now, but a good night’s sleep should help.
George had claimed the spot to her left. He scooted nearer. Because Flynt was on her right behind the driver’s seat, she couldn’t move without getting uncomfortably close to him.
“Are you as happy to be working with us as we are to have you?” George asked.
The overly friendly fellow might like having her there, but Kurt, seated opposite her, had gone out of his way to register his complaints. She could deal with his outward hostility, but she found Arnold’s withering looks and brooding silence unsettling. His departure before the lunch she’d shared with the other members of Flynt’s team had been a relief.
“I’m excited about the project.” Ever since she’d heard of John Kirk’s plan to harness the water from high atop the Sierras, she’d dreamed of working to bring it about. When her previous boss, Mr. Bishop, had told her he’d secured an interview for her with the El Dorado Water and Deep Gravel Mining Company, she’d had a hard time believing it. And yet here she was, the newest member of Flynt’s team.
Trace, who sat beside Kurt, broke the lingering silence. “You’ve got a real way with numbers, Jessie. I could never do what you did today.”
Kurt gave a dry laugh. “That’s the truth. You’re hard-pressed to complete a tracing without making a mistake.”
Jessie gritted her teeth to keep from saying something she’d regret. How dare Kurt lash out at Trace like that? She drew in a calming breath. “We all make mistakes. I’ve certainly made my fair share.”
“I make them, too.”
Flynt’s admission took her by surprise. Apparently it had surprised his men, as well, because not one of the three said a word.
He continued. “I’ve always used a penknife to scrape off an errant mark, but Jessie uses a different method that leaves the paper in better shape. I’ll have her demonstrate it for us tomorrow.”
His offhand compliment left her at a loss for words. She’d cringed inwardly when her pen had slipped and she’d been forced to rub off the excess ink with a bit of Oakey’s glass paper. Flynt had watched her carefully, adding to her nervousness. Instead of finding fault with her, though, he’d been admiring her. She peered at him shyly and was rewarded with an understanding smile.
Kurt mumbled something.
Flynt turned to him. “What was that, Kurt?”
“Nothing, sir.”
Very little escaped Flynt’s notice. So he must be aware of the constant interruptions she’d dealt with all day. She’d handled them with a combination of humor and tact, but if nothing was done to put a stop to them, they would slow her down.
Mr. Bishop had gone out in the field quite often, leaving her in the office with the two draftsmen who also worked for the small irrigation company. They’d pestered her every chance they got. She didn’t want to endure that again.
They reached the end of Coon Hollow Road and started down Sacramento Hill. The wagon creaked, which came as no surprise. The grade must be around 13 percent. Jessie clutched the edge of the seat to keep from sliding into Flynt.
George didn’t hold on, and the ten inches that had separated them became two. She doubted that was an accident. He leaned even closer. She had to force herself not to jab him in the side with her elbow. “The fellows and I rent rooms at the Ohio House hotel. Where are you staying, Jessie?”
She kept her answer vague. “In a boardinghouse up on Coloma Street.”
“Ah, yes. That would be Maybelle Monroe’s place, wouldn’t it? I’ll gladly walk you home.”
Before she could reply, Flynt intervened, speaking in an authoritative tone. “That won’t be necessary, George.”
Flynt exchanged a few indistinguishable words with the stoop-shouldered driver straining on the brake and turned toward her. “It’s all settled. Harvey will run you home, Jessie, and then return to Main Street and let us off. He’ll be back to pick you up in the morning.”
“Thank you.” He’d spared her the need to decline George’s offer.
She’d dealt with more besotted men than she cared to remember. They’d flocked to the High Stakes night after night to hear her sing. No. Not her. Jade, as she’d been called in those days.
That part of her life was over, and yet the memories persisted. Men gazing at her with unbridled interest as she entertained the saloon’s patrons with one lively tune after another. Men promising her all manner of things if she’d spend a little time with them. Men refusing to take no for an answer and being tossed into the street as a result.
Barely sixteen when she’d begun singing for Ace’s patrons, she hadn’t known how to handle the attention. She’d received counsel from Miss Maggie, the owner of the brothel upstairs, who’d given motherly advice to all her girls. Although Jessie had never been one of them, she’d learned a good deal from the seasoned woman about how to handle too-friendly fellows.
As unobtrusively as possible, Jessie inched away from George. He hadn’t become too much of a problem—yet—and she planned to keep it that way.
The wagon rounded the corner at the bottom of Sacramento Hill, also known as Sacramento Street, and traveled a short distance along Main. The driver waited in front of the Arch Saloon for his turn onto Coloma Street. A colorfully clad saloon girl shoved her way through the swinging doors and sashayed up the street.
Flynt folded his arms over his chest and made a disapproving sound low in his throat.
Jessie angled toward him. “What’s wrong?”
Before he could respond, George leaned close. “Flynt is no friend of saloons, and he has a strong dislike of saloon girls, too. He makes that same sound whenever he sees one.”
“I see.” She’d have to be careful never to say or do anything that would cause Flynt to suspect she was anything other than the lady she appeared to be. If he were to find out about her days as a saloon singer, his opinion of her would surely change. He might even refuse to work with her.
Minutes later Harvey pulled up in front of Maybelle’s place. George jumped to his feet. “Wait a minute, Jessie. I’ll run and get that chair on the porch for you to step onto.”
Flynt stood. “No need. I’ve got it.”
He held out a hand, helped her to her feet and leaped from the back of the wagon. She waited at the edge of the bed.
“Lean over and put your hands on my shoulders.”
The chair suddenly seemed a much better idea, but she complied. He wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her to the ground. The short flight through the air left her light-headed. Or had her breathlessness come about because he’d raced to her rescue?
Ever since she’d discovered the story of Cinderella as a girl, she’d dreamed of a handsome prince sweeping her off her feet. Flynt might not be a prince, but he was kind, chivalrous and handsome. With his thick, wavy hair and that warm smile...
No. He was grinning. And she was staring.
She mentally shook herself and stepped out of his hold. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. See you tomorrow.” He reached into the wagon for her lunch pail and drawing case, handed them to her and doffed his hat.
She stood entranced as Harvey turned the wagon around and headed back downtown. What would it be like to have a gentleman like Flynt interested in her? A decent man who knew there was more to her than a “pretty face” and a “lilting voice,” the only attributes the men at the High Stakes had cared about?
Because of her disreputable past, she would never know.
Chapter Three (#ulink_db3f8c8e-5ac4-583b-9183-0d1c0dd1a1da)
There. She’d done her best.
Jessie faced Flynt’s drawing board the next day shortly before noon, studying her most impressive work to date. She massaged her lower back to ease the stiffness.
Footfalls signaled Flynt’s approach. He stopped behind her, and she felt a gentle pressure on her shoulder. Surprised by the unexpected contact, she turned and looked at his large, masculine hand resting there.
He jerked it away. “I’m sorry.”
She wasn’t. His gesture had meant nothing to him, of course. But it meant something to her. Acceptance. That was what had increased her heart rate. Not the memory of his hands on her waist the night before and the resulting warmth that had spread through her. She stifled a smile. “Shall I file my drawing and get to work on the next?”
A red flush crept over the collar of his white shirt. “By all means. I’ll get you set up.”
Trace joined them. “Whoo whee! That’s quite the drawing, Jessie. I’d be hard-pressed to trace it, let alone draw it.”
She appreciated the young man’s enthusiastic support, but she didn’t want to attract any more attention. The draftsmen had been passing by her station or stopping to chat all morning. “I’m sure you’re far more capable than you think.”
Flynt nodded. “That’s true, Trace. Once you pick up your pace, I’ll be able to give you more challenging assignments.”
Trace’s eyes widened. “Do you mean that, sir? Of course you do! I’ll work hard. You’ll see.”
Kurt ambled over. “So is the golden girl finally finished?”
Several retorts flashed through Jessie’s mind, but she kept them to herself. Instead she laughed and patted her hair. “No gold here. Just lots of red.”
“Auburn, actually.”
Flynt’s unexpected comment took her aback. Perhaps she shouldn’t be surprised. After all, he was observant. But noticing elements of a drawing or comments by a colleague was different than noticing a woman’s hair color.
“And a beautiful shade of auburn it is, too.” George joined the group gathered in front of her drawing.
A rap on Corby’s office window drew their attention. The manager stood behind the glass shaking his head and frowning. Not a good sign.
“Gentlemen, I need to get Jessie started on a new drawing. Return to your boards, please.” Flynt’s firm tone sent the men hurrying back to their drafting tables, leaving her alone with him. He flipped through his notebook.
She used the time to study him. Learning to read a man’s character had become a means of survival. After spending just two weeks at the High Stakes, she had been able to determine which men were harmless, which would require a firm hand and which to avoid altogether.
Unfortunately, Miss Maggie’s girls hadn’t had the luxury of refusing to entertain a paying customer, a problem Jessie had never faced. Ace had promised that no one would bother her, provided she allowed everyone to believe she was his little lady. And no one had.
She’d come to know the Lord during those difficult days. He’d protected her and helped her leave that life behind.
Based on what she’d seen on the way home the day before, Flynt had a strong dislike of saloons and wouldn’t set foot in one. She certainly couldn’t imagine him ogling a woman the way Ace’s patrons had ogled her. Flynt had shown her kindness and consideration from the outset. Working for such a man would be a pleasure.
Kurt muttered something, but she ignored him. She’d worked hard to get where she was. Some people weren’t going to be happy, and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it. If she’d let the naysayers have their way, she would still be sweeping floors and emptying dustbins at Mr. Fullerton’s office back in Chicago.
Bless the kindly engineer. Thanks to him, she’d been able to leave the High Stakes behind and learn how to draw. All because he’d found her one sunny Sunday six years ago sketching the quaint church she’d attended back East and had given her a job at his engineering firm. She’d come to California in ’70, armed with the knowledge she’d acquired from Mr. Fullerton, and had finally gotten her first drafting job two years later when Mr. Bishop hired her.
Flynt quickly outlined her next assignment, and then he turned and addressed his team. “In honor of Jessie completing her first drawing, you may leave for lunch early. Enjoy yourselves.”
Rather than joining the others, Jessie found a shady spot behind the office and enjoyed a solitary meal. She hadn’t seen a hydraulic mining operation up close before, so she watched in awe as the huge monitors shot high-powered streams of water up to five hundred feet, blasting away the hillside. The process was fascinating, even if the destruction of such beautiful scenery wasn’t. The miners needed the water from the canal she would help design, but she preferred to think about the crops that would flourish with a proper irrigation system.
The whistle blew, signaling the end of the break. She deposited her lunch pail in the closet, washed up and returned to the Den, eager to begin her next drawing.
She entered to find Trace and George standing in front of a brand-new drafting table in the spot between Kurt’s board and Flynt’s, which had been empty before.
Trace turned, a grin on his face. “Look what was delivered while we were at lunch.”
George sauntered to her side. “Allow me to escort you to your station.” He held out his arm.
She wrapped one hand around his elbow and pressed the other to her chest. “That lovely board is mine?”
Trace loped over to take her other arm. “It’s a beauty, isn’t it?”
Kurt, seated at his drafting table, spit his response. “It’s fancy.”
That it was. The four draftsmen’s tables had plain black bases with three heavy brass feet. Her board’s base was all black with beautiful gold stenciling.
Kurt kept his focus on his drawing. “Wait until Arnold sees it. He’ll have something to say, for sure.”
Trace gave her arm a brotherly squeeze before releasing it. “Don’t pay him any mind. He’s just upset on account of his board isn’t as fine.”
“Yours is very nice, Jessie. Look at this.” George pulled out a drawer on the upper left. “There’s a matching one on the other side.”
“Sure is.” Trace pulled it open. “There’s something inside. Instructions perhaps?” He pulled out a cylindrical piece of paper and handed it to Jessie.
She unrolled it and spread it on the drafting board. Her drafting board. “It’s a drawing.”
“For a drafting stool?” Trace scratched his head. “Why?”
“That’s a good question.” George stood behind her and placed his hand so close to hers they practically touched.
She pulled hers away and ran a fingertip over the legend, where the initials FK appeared. According to the date, Flynt had completed the drawing the day before. But what had prompted him to do so? And why was the drawing in the drawer of her drafting board? She checked the dimensions. The stool had a circular rung right where she would need it.
“Look!” George directed her attention to a penciled note at the bottom of the paper. The notation indicated that the stool was being built by a furniture maker downtown and would be delivered by the end of the week. “It seems you’re going to have a stool just your size.”
As much as Flynt’s gesture meant to her, he’d given her special attention. She couldn’t allow that. “Excuse me, please. I need to speak with Flynt.” She headed for the door.
Trace stopped her. “What’s wrong, Jessie? Don’t you like the board?”
“I do, but...” She glanced at Kurt, whose rigid posture and jerky movements evidenced his displeasure. “I’ll be back.”
She found Flynt in the hallway. “Why did you do it?”
He stopped short. “What did I do?”
“You designed a stool for me. Between that and the new board...” She shook her head. “It’s different than the others. It should be the same.”
“I designed the stool, but I had nothing to do with the board. You’ll have to take that up with Corby.” He jabbed a thumb toward the manager’s office. “It was all his doing.”
Her irritation faded. She softened her voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. It’s just that I don’t appreciate being singled out. It’s hard enough for me to gain acceptance as it is.”
“That wasn’t my intention. I saw how sitting on an ill-fitting stool caused you discomfort. My goal was simply to make things easier on you.”
Her lips parted. She quickly pressed them together, drew in a calming breath and attempted to set things right. “I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions. As I said before, I’m not used to being shown such consideration.”
But Flynt wasn’t like many of the other men she’d known. “The stool will be wonderful. I look forward to using it. And I do appreciate your thoughtfulness, even though I misinterpreted things.”
“Apology accepted.” He held out a hand toward the Den. “How about returning to your station so I can get you started on that new drawing?”
“I want to talk with Corby.”
“I know. You will. Later.”
He was right. Approaching their manager in her present state wasn’t a good idea. Besides, the beautiful drafting table could be his way of showing her that he wasn’t as resistant to having her there as he’d led her to believe. She’d have to give that some thought.
The afternoon passed quickly. Working on her new board was a joy.
Before Jessie knew it, the whistle for the mine’s shift change blew, signaling the end of their workday. She put her tools away and gathered her things from the closet. Lunch pail in hand, she hurried to Corby’s office and rapped on the door.
“Come in.”
She stepped into the smoky room and was transported back in time to the High Stakes, where the air had been blue on busy nights. She shoved aside the memory. “Good evening, sir. Do you have a minute?”
“Indeed. I was actually going to call you in. Would you ask Flynt to join us, please? I have something important to discuss with the two of you before Harvey shows up with the wagon.”
Corby’s serious tone didn’t bode well. “Yes, sir, but first I wanted to discuss my drafting board.”
“Do you like it?”
“It’s wonderful, but—” she summoned her courage, which had a tendency to falter when he frowned, as he did now “—I don’t know that it’s the wisest choice.”
“Why’s that?”
She clutched the handle of her lunch pail so tightly it dug into her palm. “It draws attention to the fact that I’m a woman.”
“You are a woman, Jessie.” A fact he liked to point out. “According to my wife, Delia, women like pretty things. Isn’t that right?”
There would be no arguing with him, so she might as well accept his generosity. “Thank you for the board. It’s very nice, but I would appreciate it if you would treat me like the other members of Flynt’s team from now on.”
“Your request is noted. Now, if you’ll get Flynt...” He dismissed her with a wave of his hand.
She located Flynt in front of the office and relayed Corby’s request.
Flynt fell into step beside her. “Did he say what it’s about?”
“No. Just that it’s important and won’t take long.”
“It doesn’t have anything to do with your drafting board, does it?”
She shook her head. “That matter’s been resolved.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Flynt opened the door to Corby’s office and followed her inside.
Corby looked up. “Good. You’re here.”
Flynt pulled out a chair for her, and she took a seat. Then he sat. “What’s this about?”
Jessie admired his forthright manner. She’d learned to speak her mind without preamble as men did, but her confidence wavered in the face of Corby’s scowl.
He gathered the papers on his desktop into a single pile, thumped them on the surface to even the edges and set the stack aside. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his barrel chest. “As I feared, having a woman on the team has created challenges.”
A sense of foreboding filled Jessie. “If it’s about the drawing board, I apologize for taking issue with it.”
Corby shook his head, causing the ends of his massive mustache to dance. “It has nothing to do with that.”
She chose to be as direct as Flynt had been. “Then what did you want to discuss, sir?”
“Your presence in the Den has caused quite a stir. The fellows have spent far too much time vying for your attention—or fighting you. I’ve come up with possible solutions sure to get things back on track.”
Corby paused, bouncing his gaze between her and Flynt, which unsettled her even more.
“What did you have in mind?” Flynt leaned forward, clearly as eager to find out what ideas Corby had come up with as she.
“Moving Jessie to a different location would solve the problem.” Corby shifted his attention to her. “There’s a small room down the hall opposite the surveyors’ office. Working there would eliminate the distraction in the Den and give you privacy.”
“That won’t do.” Flynt’s tone was firm. “There are no windows, just a skylight. That’s insufficient. When she leaned over, she would cast shadows on her drawing.”
She couldn’t endure such conditions. Even if the lighting wasn’t an issue, the isolation would be. “I agree. And I need to be near Flynt. His direction is essential.”
Corby nodded. “That’s true, which is why I came up with a viable alternative. We could move your board to the end of the row and create a partition between your station and the others. You would have adequate lighting and wouldn’t be a distraction.”
Flynt responded in a firm tone. “She shouldn’t be shut off by herself just because she’s a woman. She’s a member of my team and deserves the same treatment as everyone else.”
Emboldened by Flynt’s show of support, she challenged Corby. “There’s got to be something else that could be done. Couldn’t Flynt just tell them to get back to work? He is their boss, after all.”
“He has, numerous times, but they’re young men. If there’s an attractive, available young woman in their midst, they’re going to be watching her. They can’t help themselves. What we need is an invisible barrier, so to speak.”
Flynt’s brow creased in confusion. “What do you mean? You’re obviously not talking about a sheet of glass.”
Corby fingered his watch fob. The jangling of the gold chain heightened Jessie’s apprehension. “If the two of you were to spend time together, that could solve the problem.”
Relief relaxed her shoulders, which she hadn’t realized she’d tensed. Corby’s request was a simple one. “We will, especially if I’m working closely with Flynt on designs.”
Flynt speared a hand through his thick hair, leaving it tousled. She fought the urge to reach up and straighten it for him. “I don’t think he means here in the Den, Jessie.”
“He’s right.” Corby looked her full in the face. His own registered determination, with his brow furrowed and mouth tight. “My plan is for the two of you to be seen together outside of work at social functions and such.”
She inhaled sharply and squeezed a response through her tight throat. “But if we did that, people might think we were...courting.”
Corby nodded. “Exactly. If the fellows believed Flynt was interested in you, they would leave you alone, complete their assigned tasks in a timely manner and enable us to meet our deadlines. We’ve been hard-pressed to meet them as it is, so it’s imperative these delays cease immediately.” His firm tone brooked no resistance.
Flynt had been silent. Too silent. She struggled to keep the desperation out of her voice. “What do you think? Surely you have another idea.”
He looked as nonplussed as she felt. “I wish I did.”
So did she. What Corby was asking was preposterous—and totally unfair. And here she’d thought he welcomed her. He had ordered a special drafting board just for her, after all. How wrong she’d been.
Corby opened a desk drawer and withdrew two small pieces of paper, which he handed to Flynt. “These are tickets to the Philharmonic Society’s concert this coming Saturday evening. I look forward to seeing the two of you there—together.”
Flynt stared at the tickets with pursed lips. Clearly he didn’t like this any more than she did.
“Must we do this, sir? I don’t want Flynt forced into being my make-believe beau.” She cringed inwardly at the fanciful term that had slipped out.
“The way I see it, that’s the only option. I can’t have the work disrupted. If you want to retain your position, you’ll accept my terms. If not, I’ll be forced to hire a man instead.”
“But you bought a drafting table especially for me.”
Corby waved a hand dismissively. “That’s no problem. I could exchange it for another model if I needed to.”
What choice did she have? Corby had made it clear that if she didn’t agree, he would replace her.
But if she was to go along with Corby’s plan, she couldn’t enact it alone. She turned toward Flynt and summoned her courage. “I know what I have to gain by agreeing to this...charade, but what reason would you have for doing so?” As a college-educated engineer with years of experience, his position was secure.
“I would get to work with an excellent draftswoman.”
Corby intervened. “Once the situation improves, I could ask the board to add a bonus to his next paycheck. Provided the increased productivity warrants it, of course.”
Jessie stood, and Flynt jumped to his feet. She stiffened her spine and faced him. “Very well. If you’re willing to accompany me to events, I’ll do my part.”
Would the offer of a bonus entice him to agree? Her future at the company hinged on his answer.
* * *
Jessie had actually agreed?
She looked at Flynt, expectancy on her lovely face.
Corby cleared his throat. “What’s your answer, son?”
A decision like this couldn’t be rushed. “I’m not sure.”
Jessie’s eyes, bright before, dulled. She attempted a smile, but it lacked conviction.
He’d known that sense of resignation, felt the sting of unfairness. “If Jessie and I were to enter into such an arrangement, we’d need to know the parameters. For instance, how often would you expect us to be seen together, and how long would this supposed alliance last?”
Corby leaned back in his chair, causing the springs to creak. He clasped his hands, extended his forefingers and tapped them against his chin. “Hmm. I think attending a public gathering of some sort once a week would be adequate. As for the duration, you would need to keep this up long enough for the novelty of having Jessie on the team to fade. Perhaps a month would do. We could revisit the matter then.”
Flynt nodded. “So, one function a week for four weeks? That’s all?”
“You would have to keep up appearances during the week, of course.”
“Of course,” Flynt repeated dully. He turned to Jessie. “Before I can seriously consider Corby’s request, I’d like to talk to you for a moment. Alone.”
“Certainly.” She swept out of the room and waited for him in the hallway.
He closed the door to Corby’s office and wheeled around to face her. “I had no idea what Corby was planning.”
“I gathered that. What are we going to do?”
“I’ll go back in on my own and talk some sense into him, if I can. You can trust me.”
She pressed her lips together, drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. “Perhaps, but since my position is the one dependent on this...arrangement, I’ll accompany you.”
He hadn’t known Jessie long, but her refusal to sit idly by while someone else determined her future didn’t surprise him. He admired her for it. “Fine, but I’d recommend leaving this to me. I know Corby.”
“I will—as long as I agree with your tactics.” The flicker of fear in her eyes countered her show of independence. Jessie was more concerned than she was willing to admit.
The realization made his decision clear. “I’ll do what’s necessary to make the situation work.”
“Good.” Squaring her shoulders, she gave a firm nod. “Then let’s go. I have a position to secure.”
They returned to Corby’s office. Jessie sat, but Flynt remained standing. He was a good six inches taller than Corby, and he intended to use every bit of leverage. “Did you honestly think we’d agree to this ploy? What kind of solution is a mock courtship?”
Corby rose and propped himself on the corner of his desk, his free leg swinging. “An effective and expedient one. If you handle this well, we’ll see a change in short order.”
“Perhaps, but I have no intention of courting a woman.” Especially the attractive one working for him. Jessie was distracting enough as it was.
“You wouldn’t be. Not really. You’d just be enjoying each other’s company.”
Flynt fought to keep his frustration in check. “We’d be intentionally misleading my team. And others.”
“It would only be temporary. Besides—” Corby grinned “—you might enjoy yourself. Jessie’s easy on the eyes. She’s bright, too. You’d be able to talk about all manner of things.”
Before Flynt could come up with a suitable response, Corby shifted his attention to Jessie, who sat wide-eyed and curiously silent. “And you wouldn’t mind being seen on the arm of a handsome young man like Flynt, now, would you, Jessie?”
Her mouth opened and her lips moved, but no sound came out. A becoming shade of pink stained her cheeks. Flynt sent her an apologetic smile, but she appeared to be staring at her hands resting in her lap.
Corby barged ahead, seemingly unaware of Jessie’s embarrassment. “Say the word, son, and I’ll consider the matter resolved. For now.”
Flynt had to do something. He could turn Corby down—and would, if he had his way—but refusing would adversely affect Jessie. Her position depended on his participation in Corby’s ploy. If work slowed because of her, Corby would secure a replacement. A draftsman. Flynt couldn’t let that happen. He wanted her on his team, even though having her there could change things. Would change things.
But he didn’t want to be her suitor, real or otherwise. “If you’ll give me time, I’ll find another solution.” One that didn’t put Jessie in such a difficult position.
“We don’t have time. We’re behind as it is. The directors want to see progress. If we don’t make that happen, you and I will be the ones they take to task.” Corby assumed a wheedling tone. “Would it really be such a hardship to enjoy Jessie’s company?”
Jessie lifted her head. Sadness flitted through her eyes. She quickly schooled her features but said nothing.
Flynt had seen enough. “The whole thing smacks of unfairness. She shouldn’t have to agree to something like this in order to secure her position.”
Corby heaved a sigh. “I didn’t want to be forced to pull rank, but you leave me no choice, son. If you don’t agree, Jessie can pack her things and go.”
“I’ll do it.” Flynt blew out a breath. “But I won’t take any money for it.”
Jessie’s hand flew to her throat, and her lovely lips parted.
“Why not?” Corby eased himself from the desk. “The board is pleased with your work. I’m sure they’d agree to give you a bonus.”
“Because helping her is the right thing to do.”
And because spending additional time with her appealed to him far more than it should.
Chapter Four (#ulink_abd0f555-1370-5c5d-8623-f3a5e1a6d24f)
A rap on the door frame drew Jessie’s attention. She turned from the window seat, where she’d been ever since supper, replaying the scene in Corby’s office. Her snowy-haired landlady, Maybelle Monroe, stood just inside Jessie’s bedchamber. “There’s a gentleman to see you. The handsome fellow’s waiting in the parlor.”
“A man? For me? Did you get his name?”
“I didn’t. I was so taken with his beautiful red hair I forgot to ask.” Maybelle grinned.
Tingles danced up Jessie’s spine. Even though the temperature was still in the high eighties, she shivered. “That would be Flynt. He’s the engineer I work for.”
“And he’s calling on you in the evening?” The boardinghouse owner raised an eyebrow. “Interesting.”
Jessie opened her mouth to protest but stopped herself in time. If she was to convince others Flynt was courting her, she had to act the part. “Interesting, indeed. I wonder if he’s here on business or...”
“Well, don’t dawdle. Get on downstairs and find out.”
Maybelle followed Jessie down the hallway. “Pinch your cheeks on the way down, dear. That’ll add some nice color.”
“I’ll do that.” Jessie smiled. She rejoiced inwardly at having passed her first test. If Maybelle suspected there was more to her relationship with Flynt, surely others would, too.
She entered the parlor moments later, and Flynt shot to his feet. “Good evening, Jessie. We need to talk.”
He’d certainly gotten right to the point. “I agree, but it’s rather warm inside. We could go out back. There’s a porch swing under an oak tree where we’d have shade.” And some privacy. She wouldn’t have to keep up appearances.
“Since it is so hot, I thought we could go to Mr. Sieg’s ice-cream parlor.”
“Oh.” He was taking her out in public? Already?
His brow furrowed. “You do like ice cream, don’t you?”
Ice cream? Yes. His company? Yes and no. She would enjoy looking at him and talking with him. But she wanted no part of feigning attraction for the sake of others. “Of course. Who doesn’t?”
He smiled. “That’s more like it. After you, then.” He swept a hand toward the front door.
The short walk down Coloma Street passed quickly. Too quickly. Before Jessie knew it, she was seated across from Flynt. The buzz of conversations filled the air, along with a tantalizing mix of scents—tangy lemon, spicy ginger, fresh mint and many more. Her mouth watered.
Thankfully their table was in the back of the shop away from the windows and curious passersby. Although Flynt was supposedly courting her, she had no idea what he expected.
She studied the menu board. “Which flavor’s your favorite?”
“I can’t choose just one. Can you?”
“I generally get vanilla.”
He chuckled. “And here I thought you were adventurous. You’re a draftswoman, after all, challenging the likes of engineers and draftsmen everywhere.”
A friendly waiter took their order and returned with their choices in no time. Jessie scooped a hearty bite and savored the rich, creamy dessert.
The bell on the door rang, and Flynt glanced that way. “Speaking of challenging draftsmen, Kurt just entered. He’s spotted us. Pretend I’ve said something witty and laugh.”
The strangled sound she emitted sounded more like a snicker, but what could Flynt expect when he’d taken her by surprise?
“All that got us was raised eyebrows. Could you do something else? Look at me like you’re smitten perhaps?”
Now, that she could do. She’d seen Miss Maggie’s girls cast scores of admiring glances at men during her days at the High Stakes. She sent one Flynt’s way.
His spoon clattered to the table, and his eyes went as round as the tabletop. He leaned forward and spoke softly. His voice held a hint of humor. “You certainly took me at my word. Anyone looking our way would have no doubt you’re attracted to me.”
Mortification sent heat racing to her cheeks. She’d acted in haste, realizing too late that the looks Maggie’s girls gave weren’t the type nice, respectable women copied. Eager to shift the focus from herself, she cast a glance at Kurt, who stood waiting for a table to become available. His mouth hung open. She forced an airy laugh such as she’d intended to produce earlier. “Well, my exuberance did serve a purpose. Kurt might not have suspected anything before, but he does now.”
“Indeed.” Flynt raked a hand through his hair. The unruly lock fell across his forehead. As much as she wanted to brush it back into place, she couldn’t. He had the bearing of a cat ready to pounce. If she were to touch him, he’d likely flinch, gasp or worse.
Kurt ambled over. No. Swaggered was more like it. He wore a smug smile. “Everything makes sense now.”
Flynt dug his spoon into his ice cream, paused and asked the obvious question. “What makes sense?”
“Why Jessie got the job, of course. She turned your head. You created a position so you could offer it to her.”
Jessie inhaled sharply. She longed to set the insufferable fellow straight, but the words lodged in her throat.
Flynt lifted the bite to his mouth, took his time eating it and set his spoon on the table. When he spoke, his words were cold, much colder than the dessert. He enunciated each one. “You’re mistaken. I hadn’t even met Jessie before her interview. Her exceptional work is what got her the position.”
Kurt scoffed. “I might not be as bright as you seem to think she is, but I know what I saw. Well, you can carry on your little tryst, but when Corby hears about it, he’s not going to be happy.”
It took every ounce of restraint she possessed not to laugh. If only Kurt knew... “Why are you out to undermine me? We’re a team.”
“We were a team, and then you showed up. And now you’re fraternizing with Flynt. I should tell Corby. Cross me and I will.”
Flynt rested his fisted hands on the table and responded with a believable show of concern. “I’d rather you didn’t, but if you feel it’s your duty, I understand.”
Jessie played along. “Are you sure you should be encouraging him?”
“I trust Kurt to keep what he’s seen to himself.”
The younger man gave a wry smile. “I’ll keep mum. For the present. Why blab now when the information could better serve me later?” He wheeled around and left the shop without ordering any ice cream.
Flynt shook his head. “That young man has some lessons to learn. Give him time and he will. I was feeling my oats when I was his age. The last six years have taught me a great deal. What about you? Did you have all the answers when you were twenty-one?”
“That’s when I arrived in California, confident but naive. The past three years have been humbling. I bounced from job to job the first two, doing anything from lettering funeral programs to drawing sketches of pipes for a sewer company’s catalog. I didn’t get my first drafting position here in California until Mr. Bishop hired me a year ago.”
“He said you received your training in Chicago. How did that come about?”
She chose her words carefully, lest she divulge too much. “An engineer came through town when I was eighteen. He saw a drawing I’d done and offered me a position in his firm. The first year I swept floors, emptied dustbins and the like. Mr. Fullerton taught me after hours. I spent my free time practicing until I was good enough to do tracings. I did those for a year and a half before I was assigned my first drawing. I had to redo it three times before Mr. Fullerton signed off on it.”
Flynt finished his ice cream and dropped his spoon into his dish with a clink. “Sounds like he was a stickler for details, an admirable trait in our field.”
She savored her last bite and licked the spoon.
He grinned.
“I’m sorry. That wasn’t very ladylike, was it?”
He winked. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
A delicious sense of contentment washed over her, far sweeter than the treat they’d enjoyed. Flynt Kavanaugh wasn’t just handsome, knowledgeable and considerate. He was fun to be with. She could get used to his company. Perhaps this arrangement had its advantages.
The arrangement! How could she have forgotten? He was just playing a part.
She dropped her gaze to her lap and rolled the edge of the red-and-white gingham napkin. The silence stretched until she could stand it no longer.
“So what did you want to talk—”
“I thought we should talk—”
Their words collided. She laughed, a nervous sound quite unlike her. She’d dealt with hordes of men through the years, but Flynt was different. He was a gentleman through and through.
He gave her a reassuring smile. “It seems you’re eager to clarify things, too. Let me start by saying how sorry I am that I couldn’t come up with a better solution than this.”
Her chest tightened, making drawing a breath difficult. He didn’t want to spend time with her outside of work?
No. Of course he didn’t. Why would he? She was his colleague and nothing more. “I know it’s not ideal, but I’m prepared to do my part.” Doubts gnawed at her. “Unless you’ve changed your mind, that is?”
“Not at all. I agreed to Corby’s plan.”
He had. And he’d been quite gallant about it. “Thank you. No one’s ever done anything like this for me.” The admission had slipped out unchecked. Where was her customary self-control? She pressed her lips together to keep any more words from rushing out.
“It’s my pleasure.”
It wasn’t, but it was nice of him to say so. “So, what do we do next?”
“I’ll pick you up at half past seven Saturday evening, and we’ll head to the theater. The Placerville Philharmonic Society does a fine job. As much as you love music, you’re sure to enjoy the concert.”
“How do you know I like music?” She did, very much, but she hadn’t said anything to him.
He toyed with the spoon resting in his dish. “I, um, heard you humming while you work.”
“Oh. I didn’t realize I was. It’s an old habit. I’ll work on breaking it.”
“It’s not a problem. You didn’t disturb me. I like hearing the hymns.”
Flynt recognized them? He must be a churchgoing man. Although he might view it as prying, she had to know. “Do you attend services?”
He sent her another of those warm smiles of his that caused her stomach to flutter. “I do. Across the street from your boardinghouse at the Church of Our Saviour. Will I see you there Sunday?”
“I plan on attending, yes. I’ve heard good things about the reverend and his messages.”
“Mr. Parks is wonderful. I’m sure you’ll like him.”
She tilted her head. “Mr. Parks? He doesn’t use the title?”
Flynt shook his head. “He’s not like other ministers. I would be happy to introduce you to him. That is, if you’ll allow me to escort you. As your beau, it would be expected.”
True. The thought caused her to smile. While she couldn’t allow her feelings to become engaged, she would enjoy Flynt’s company over the next few weeks. As long as she didn’t allow herself to entertain dreams of a future with a kind, thoughtful man like him, she would come through this with her heart intact. Wouldn’t she?
* * *
Where had he put that pin? Without it his cravat wouldn’t stay put.
Flynt rummaged through his bureau drawer, not stopping until he found the elusive pin hiding beneath the stack of freshly laundered handkerchiefs. He opened the jewel box. As was the case every time he did so, memories of his mother rushed in. She might have given him up to be raised by another, but she hadn’t forgotten him. The only money she’d ever sent him had shown up when he turned eighteen. Three years later the pin arrived.
The first had been accompanied by a letter from his mother’s lawyer telling him that she wanted him to use the funds for college. The latter had included a note in her own handwriting, the only one he’d ever received.
He unfolded the slip of paper and read the few words.
My Dearest Son,
Widow Hagerty tells me you’ve earned an engineering degree and that you dream of designing irrigation systems. I couldn’t be more proud of the man you’ve become.
I had my jeweler create this pin especially for you. Whenever you look at it, I hope you’ll remember me fondly.
All my love,
Your Mother
Every time he saw the bold swirls of her handwriting, his chest tightened, just as it had the day Ma Hagerty handed him the unexpected gift. While he wanted to believe what his mother had written, he couldn’t. If a mother truly loved her child, she didn’t give him up.
He secured his cravat with the pin. Stepping in front of the looking glass, he studied his reflection. The man who stared back at him was as well outfitted as any other gentleman. He’d worked hard to gain respectability. No one looking at him would believe him to be anything other than what he seemed—a successful engineer. He’d left his past behind. And now he was about to rub elbows with Placerville’s elite.
A surge of excitement coursed through him. In half an hour he’d be walking into the theater with an incredibly beautiful woman by his side. Although he wasn’t Jessie’s beau, others would think she welcomed his company. They might even imagine she had feelings for him. Not that she did. They were colleagues, nothing more.
But he did enjoy her company. The evening at the ice-cream parlor had been more pleasant than he’d hoped. He recalled the way she’d looked at him when Kurt had headed toward their table and chuckled. Jessie had given him the most coquettish smile ever sent his way. He’d seen plenty of them aimed at the men who’d frequented the saloon where the saucy women his mother employed had entertained when he was a boy, but he’d never expected to see an alluring gaze directed at him. It was a good thing he hadn’t taken a bite just then, or he would have choked on it.
When he’d asked Jessie to feign interest in him, she’d responded with a startling display of boldness. She was a lady to the core—bright, beautiful and cultivated—unlike the saloon girls who’d pinched his cheeks and fawned over him as a boy. Due to her inexperience, Jessie had gotten carried away. Her flaming cheeks afterward proved she realized her mistake.
He would have to make his requests clear in the future and gently educate her in courtship rituals. Not that he had much experience. His education and his work had been his focus.
His cologne caught his eye. He uncorked the bottle and splashed on some of the citrusy scent. Jessie deserved to have him looking and smelling his best.
He reached for his cutaway jacket, shrugged it on and set out. His long strides carried him from the Cary House hotel up Coloma Street to Jessie’s boardinghouse in no time.
Pausing at the wrought iron gate, he glanced at the second-story bay window Jessie had told him was hers, hoping for a glimpse of her, but he could see no one from that angle.
He climbed the steps and rapped on the front door of the stately green house. The motherly owner yanked it open, saw him and smiled broadly.
“Welcome, Mr. Kavanaugh. My, aren’t you looking dapper this evening?”
“Thank you. I’m here for Jessie.”
“Oh, yes. She’s expecting you. I’ll let her know you’re here.”
Mrs. Monroe made it up the stairs with remarkable speed, turned to the right and knocked on a door just out of view. A muffled conversation followed. Flynt heard his name but little else.
The older woman returned, patted his arm and smiled. “She’ll be down shortly. I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time at the concert. Do you know what pieces are being performed?”
He did his best to carry on a conversation with the kindly woman, but keeping his mind on her comments and questions grew more difficult by the moment. After what seemed like an eternity, a door clicked shut above. He focused on the upper landing.
Jessie appeared, and his jaw dropped. He stood rooted to the spot, unable to speak, unable to move, unable to do anything but gaze at the vision of loveliness above him. Her glorious auburn hair was piled on her head in a fancy style. Loose wisps framed her face, drawing his attention to her tentative smile. Her emerald gown, although modest, showcased her womanly figure beautifully.
Mrs. Monroe patted his arm. “I’ll leave you two alone.”
Her comment registered at some level, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Jessie. His gaze locked with hers. The twin pools of glorious green drew him in, deeper and deeper.
All else faded from view. He couldn’t feel the floor beneath him, although it had to be there because it shifted. Clutching the newel cap to steady himself, he drank his fill.
Taking her silk skirts in one hand, she lifted them a couple of inches and began her descent, one slow, careful step at a time. Her captivating eyes never left his. She paused at the landing halfway down and graced him with a smile unlike any she’d ever sent his way. Hesitant but sweeter than honey.
He forced his lips to lift in an answering smile he hoped conveyed encouragement and appreciation.
She continued her journey down the stairs, but she no longer looked into his face. Instead she focused on a spot somewhere below his chin.
The familiar scent of lilacs greeted him as she drew near. He released his grip on the handrail, but that left him with two hands hanging limply at his sides. At a loss as to what to do with them, he clasped them behind his back. It was either that or risk disaster by following his wayward thoughts, which suggested he reach out and brush her rosy cheek with the back of his hand.
Standing on the bottom step, Jessie drew in a deep breath, causing her chest to rise and fall beneath the row of jet-black buttons. She lifted her head. Uncertainty shone in her expressive eyes. He had to say something, but with his throat as dry as Hangtown Creek at the end of the summer, getting words out wasn’t easy.
“You look...” He searched for a word that would adequately describe her, but his mind went blank.
She tilted her head. “Nice?”
“Yes. Nice.”
The instant the lackluster compliment slipped out, he mentally kicked himself. “Nice” was a vast understatement. “Pretty” would have been better. But even that didn’t come close to describing her. He forced his sluggish brain to work.
Beautiful? She was, but he couldn’t say that. Besides, many women could be called beautiful. Jessie was more. She was...gorgeous. Yes! That was it.
“Not just nice. You look go—” He stopped himself just in time. Jessie was his colleague, not his sweetheart. He had no right to shower her with compliments, no matter how much he wanted to do so. “You look good. Very good.”
Her features relaxed. “You look very good yourself.” Her gaze traveled from the toes of his recently polished boots in a steady climb until it rested on his chest. “That’s a beautiful pin. It’s rare to see a pear-shaped sapphire.”
He forced himself to concentrate on what she was saying, which was no easy task. “It was a gift from my mother. She chose that cut because it resembles a drop of water.” That was what Ma Hagerty had told him when she’d passed on the gift.
“And the diamonds around it? Do they represent something, too?”
“Sunlight sparkling on the surface of a lake.”
“I see that. She must be proud of you and all you’ve achieved.”
His thoughts turned to the letter he’d left lying on top of his bureau. “Your parents must be proud of you, as well. Do they know about your new job?”
She shrugged. “They’re both gone.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“How could you? We hardly know each other.”
Her matter-of-fact statement brought reality crashing in on him. “You shouldn’t have to do this. If you’d rather not go to the concert—”
“Not go?” She laughed, a musical sound that eased the tension between his shoulders. “Of course we’ll go. And we’ll make the best of the situation. You might even enjoy yourself. I intend to.”
Her playfulness was contagious. “Even if your escort is a stodgy engineer.”
“I wouldn’t call you stodgy. Serious at times, perhaps, but not stodgy.” She grinned. “In fact, I believe there’s a fun-loving fellow inside you.”
“What makes you think that?”
She focused on the floor and traced the pattern in the runner with the toe of her boot. Her response was so soft he had to lean close to catch it. “You agreed to a game of make-believe for my sake. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to.”
She jerked her head up. “You did? Why?”
“For the same reasons you did, I suppose.”
“Because Corby expected it of us?”
“Yes.” That was true, but only to a point. He hadn’t admitted it before, but he welcomed the opportunity to spend time with her. For the remaining three weeks he could pretend this remarkable woman enjoyed his company as much as he enjoyed hers.
There was no harm in that. Was there?
“Speaking of Corby, we should be going. I’ll say good-night to Maybelle, and we can be off.”
Jessie returned moments later, and they headed down the hill, walking side by side in companionable silence. They reached Main, where a stream of concertgoers dressed in their finest overflowed the plank walkways and spilled into the street.
Eager to keep her from being jostled by the crowd, he held out his arm. She stared at it a moment, wrapped both hands around his elbow and tugged. “Would you come with me, please?”
“What is it?”
“We’re about to make our first major appearance as a couple, and we haven’t formulated a plan. We need to do that.”
Her take-charge manner couldn’t conceal her uneasiness. If following her would put her mind at rest, follow her he would. After all, he didn’t mind having her to himself a little longer.
Chapter Five (#ulink_1f4ac537-ed04-5a9a-8361-6a4779fc8dc8)
Jessie retraced their steps with Flynt right behind her. She turned north on Coloma Street and ducked into a secluded spot.
Flynt inclined his head. “You’ve obviously given this some thought. What do you have in mind?”
“I realized we haven’t addressed the matter of physical contact. Due to the nature of our...relationship, I think it would be wise for us to clarify things.”
She had no experience dealing with a fine gentleman like Flynt—bright, well educated and so handsome in his cutaway coat, snowy white shirt and silk cravat that she had to force herself not to stare. He obviously came from a family of means. His parents loved him and lavished expensive gifts on him.
Her life had been much different. She’d been raised in a run-down farmhouse back East with a father who’d fallen prey to one moneymaking scheme after another. He’d left her all alone and destitute when he died eight years before, giving her no choice but to accept Ace’s offer of a job in his saloon.
She’d already committed a terrible faux pas at the ice-cream parlor, gazing at Flynt the way Maggie’s girls did one of the High Stakes Saloon’s patrons. If she didn’t find out what he expected of her, she was sure to make more. The last thing she needed was for him to suspect her of being the type of woman for whom he held such contempt.
If only she had experience in romantic relationships, but the few gentlemen she’d known were business colleagues. She’d kept things between them strictly professional.
Flynt studied her and nodded. “So that’s why you dragged me here? I thought you were upset about me offering my arm.”
She forced an airy laugh. “Of course not. It was crowded. You were just being a gentleman.”
“Exactly. I would have done the same for any woman in my care.”
His words were a splash of cold water in her face. When he’d seen her at the top of the stairs, he’d looked enraptured. She’d allowed herself to believe he was honestly taken with her, but his reaction had been a performance for Maybelle’s benefit. Nothing more.
“I understand, but I’m not just any woman, am I? I’m the one who is supposedly smitten with you, as you are with me. As such, I’m sure Corby will expect us to act the part in all respects. How do you plan to proceed?”
“I hadn’t really given it any thought. Such things tend to develop naturally.”
That made sense, but she still needed to know how a lady was to behave. Lord, I could use Your help. “While that might be true in most situations, ours is unique. I’d appreciate it if you’d let me know what you intend to do beforehand, so I’m not taken by surprise.”
“Fair enough. Shall we get going now? We don’t want to be late. I will, once again, offer you my arm, as I’ll do in the future whenever the situation warrants.”
“Very well.” She took it without hesitation.
He cast her a sidelong glance and smiled. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Not at all. Flynt was everything she would look for in a man—if her past didn’t prevent her from harboring such dreams. Now that she’d cleared things up, she might as well enjoy the closeness and feeling of belonging—for as long as it lasted.
He guided them safely through the crowd and into the theater, where he handed their tickets to an usher. The young man led them to their seats, which were near the front. Corby must have paid a premium price for them.
She settled into the plush velvet cushions and soaked in the beauty of the elegant surroundings. A quick calculation of the number of seats revealed that fifteen hundred people could enjoy a performance in the impressive building.
The buzz of conversations filled the air. She looked up one row and down the next, admiring the colorful gowns on the ladies. By contrast, the vast majority of men wore black, the same as Flynt. But no man was as suave and debonair as he.
She turned and found him looking right at her with unbridled admiration. Perhaps she’d been wrong and he did find her appealing after all.
He shifted his gaze to the doors. “Look who just came in.”
Corby and the silk-clad, silver-haired woman on his arm followed an usher. The couple was headed their way. Closer and closer they came until...
Jessie whispered to Flynt. “You don’t think they’re going to be right behind us, do you?”
“Looks that way.”
Sure enough, the usher paused at the end of the row and held out a hand. Corby and the elegantly attired woman made their way to the two empty seats.
Once they were settled, Corby leaned forward. “Good evening. It’s nice to see you here. Flynt’s met my charming wife before, but allow me to introduce you two ladies. Jessie, this is Fidelia Corbin, the light of my life.” He gazed at his wife like a smitten schoolboy. The crusty manager had a softer side. That knowledge made him a little less intimidating. “Delia, this is Miss Jessica Sinclair, the newest member of our drafting team.”
The older woman clasped Jessie’s hand and smiled warmly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, my dear. Carter speaks very highly of you. He neglected to tell me what a beautiful young woman you are, though. I adore red hair, and yours is such a lovely shade.”
“Thank you. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”
The conductor stepped from behind the floor-to-ceiling brocade curtains in front of the stage, and a hush came over the room, sparing Jessie the need to carry on a conversation. Her stomach had already been roiling. With Corby seated so close that she could smell the cigar smoke on his jacket, she felt as though a hurricane had hit.
Mrs. Corbin gave Jessie’s hand a squeeze before releasing it. “We’ll talk more later.”
Jessie managed to produce a polite response, complete with a pasted-on smile, before sinking into her seat. For the next hour, she could relax and immerse herself in the music.
The gaslights dimmed, the curtains parted and the conductor stepped onto his platform and raised his baton. With a flick of his wrist, the first piece began, a soothing aria from Bach in which the orchestra accompanied a renowned alto from San Francisco, who sang in German. The selection was known in English as “Contented Peace.”
That was what she needed. The last week had been challenging. In the span of six days, she’d found a new place to live, survived a difficult interview process and acquired a make-believe beau. Flynt was a wonderful man, but figuring out how she was supposed to act around him had her on tenterhooks. She much preferred being in charge of a situation.
Well, she was here in a beautiful theater listening to a stellar performance. Reality would be waiting for her when it was over, but for now she’d forget about everything else and enjoy the respite. She shifted to a more comfortable position, closed her eyes and let the music whisk her away to another place where there were no harried managers, hostile colleagues or handsome engineers.
That number blended into the next in a soul-satisfying feast. Lord. I didn’t realize how I hungered for rest, but You knew and have provided just that. Thank You.
“Are you asleep?”
Flynt’s warm breath on her neck and whispered words startled her. Her eyes flew open. She’d been so far removed from the present that she’d forgotten where she was—and whom she was with. She jerked back, putting space between herself and Flynt.
Someone beside them tittered. Heat rushed to her cheeks, but with the lights dimmed, no one could witness her embarrassment. She’d failed once again to respond as expected.
God, if You could send someone to guide me, I’d be most appreciative.
Flynt moved away, and the tightness in her chest eased. She kept her eyes open throughout the following numbers.
Thunderous applause filled the room at the conclusion of the concerto that completed the first half of the performance. The gaslights flared back to life.
The conductor stepped to the front of the stage, and the curtains closed behind him. He waited until the enthusiastic clapping ceased before speaking. “Ladies and gentlemen, there will be a fifteen-minute intermission. You’ll find a selection of delectable desserts out front provided by Gold Country Confections. Enjoy.”
Flynt patted his stomach. “I’ll have to sample some of those. Would you care to join me?”
“Certainly.” She joined the crowd en route to the lobby. Flynt followed on her heels.
Jessie reached the tables laden with a lavish display of baked goods. The tantalizing scents made her mouth water. She chose an éclair, a snickerdoodle and a lemon bar.
Flynt glanced at her plate and chuckled. “That’s quite an assortment—sweet, spicy and tart. I wouldn’t have expected a woman who prefers plain vanilla ice cream to be so adventurous.”
She produced an impish smile. “I’m full of surprises, Mr. Kavanaugh.”
He laughed. “That you are, Miss Sinclair.”
“Jessie? It is you. I wasn’t sure.”
She spun around to find a round-faced woman smiling at her. “Becky! It’s wonderful to see you.” Remembering her manners, she hurried to make the introductions. “Flynt, this is my dear friend Becky Martin. When her minister’s wife back in Chicago learned that Becky was also bound for Placerville back in ’71, she introduced us, and we traveled together, along with one other lady. The three of us became fast friends on that trip. I haven’t seen either of them since because I left town soon after we arrived. Becky, this is Flynt Kavanaugh. He’s the engineer at the El Dorado Water and Deep Gravel Mining Company. I work for him now.”
Becky and Flynt greeted each other.
He took two steps backward. “I’m sure you two ladies would like some time to catch up, so I’ll leave you to it.”
Before Flynt could make his exit, a throat cleared behind Jessie. She turned and found herself facing Corby, who looked none too pleased. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Jessie, but I’d like a word with you and Flynt. Now.”
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Keli Gwyn
The Courtship CharadeA draftswoman in a man’s world, Jessica Sinclair’s presence causes a stir as her new male colleagues vie for her attention. And the company manager has an ultimatum: fake a courtship with her boss, Flynt Kavanaugh…or lose her job. But pretending to be smitten with the handsome engineer unleashes a real, complicated attraction—and could reveal the past she hoped to keep hidden.Jessica is certainly the best person for the job. But as their make-believe romance escalates, Flynt knows that’s not the only reason he wants her on his team. However, with his past shrouded by a shameful secret, Flynt has always focused his ambitions on building a career, not a family. Now he has designs on Jessica’s heart, but can they trust each other with the truth?
The Courtship Charade
As a draftswoman in a man’s world, Jessica Sinclair causes a stir as her new male colleagues vie for her attention. And the company manager has an ultimatum: fake a courtship with her boss, Flynt Kavanaugh…or lose her job. But pretending to be smitten with the handsome engineer unleashes a real, complicated attraction—and could reveal the past she hoped to keep hidden.
Jessica is certainly the best person for the job. But as their make-believe romance escalates, Flynt knows that’s not the only reason he wants her on his team. However, with his past shrouded by a shameful secret, Flynt has always focused his ambitions on building a career, not a family. Now he has designs on Jessica’s heart, but can they trust each other with the truth?
“You’re not going to kiss me, are you?”
The idea appealed to him more than he cared to admit. “Not unless it’s necessary, but if I look like I’m thinking about it, Mrs. Monroe is sure to draw the conclusions we want her to.”
“That makes sense.” She moistened those enticing lips, a gesture that made keeping his mind on the conversation increasingly difficult. “I should be going.”
And yet she stood gazing at him. The lantern in the parlor didn’t cast enough light for him to make out her expression, but she gripped his hands firmly, as though she didn’t want to let go. Or was he the one holding her tightly?
He released her, stepped back to a gentlemanly distance and doffed his hat.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yes. Tomorrow.”
He bounded down the steps, expecting to hear the door open and close behind him. He’d reached the street, and yet Jessie hadn’t moved. She stood staring into the darkness with her fingertips pressed to her lips, unmoving.
Award-winning author KELI GWYN, a native Californian, transports readers to the early days of the Golden State. She and her husband live in the heart of California’s Gold Country. Her favorite places to visit are her fictional worlds, historical museums and other Gold Rush–era towns. Keli loves hearing from readers and invites you to visit her Victorian-style cyberhome at keligwyn.com (http://keligwyn.com), where you’ll find her contact information.
Make-Believe Beau
Keli Gwyn
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Remember not the sins of
my youth, nor my transgressions:
according to thy mercy
remember thou me
for thy goodness’ sake, O Lord.
—Psalms 25:7
Acknowledgments (#ulink_fe28bc48-1de6-5c54-b064-8107b37004aa)
Writing is said to be a solitary endeavor, but that is not the case for me. The following people have made valuable contributions to this story, and I greatly appreciate each of them.
My savvy editor, Emily Rodmell, helps me smooth the rough edges of my stories and polish them until they shine.
My agent, Rachelle Gardner, brings her vast publishing experience to play, but she also encourages and supports me along the way.
My writing partners, Anne and Adri, offer valuable input at the earliest stages of a story and enable me to send the cleanest drafts possible to my editor.
My husband, Carl, brainstorms my stories with me and gives me the male perspective.
My mother, Patricia Lannon, a former draftswoman, educated me on her chosen profession and enlightened me on the challenges of being a woman working in a male-dominated field.
My friend Bob Courtemanche, a retired physics teacher who has explored the El Dorado Canal up close and personal, gave me a clearer picture of our water supply system and bolstered my knowledge of fluid dynamics.
My friend Rachael Duke, an accomplished equestrian, answered numerous technical questions regarding horses and horsemanship.
Contents
Cover (#u6c6b1fc4-a2f2-55b2-8ca5-e2c18644a37e)
Back Cover Text (#ubb34593d-0423-550f-9cd0-41b83b531a71)
INtroduction (#u1b7a00db-63b7-5fcd-943a-d8e9983541eb)
About the Author (#u2be9d26f-0ee2-5172-a957-da01238a3778)
Title Page (#u4e70949d-f8e1-5a54-9b12-c16f017eb0f5)
Bible Verse (#uf4efdce6-4a5c-555f-9f47-ab77eb40c4c4)
Acknowledgments (#u2ff9a5a1-ad2a-5d98-90e5-74331efecb0c)
Chapter One (#u45896465-8034-5b94-85b7-1a38e00d1165)
Chapter Two (#ub769064b-0716-5f29-9321-02f07847a8eb)
Chapter Three (#u531e5a6d-e7fd-5703-a00f-6d88331eca63)
Chapter Four (#u915ff4a5-d5c9-510d-84b6-b1a5e8f3e787)
Chapter Five (#u7ccd9bbd-4309-5ef9-a084-42622e161c5d)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_ef0d9a2c-748b-5bbc-becf-153afb45e508)
Placerville, California
June 1874
“I understand your reservations about hiring a draftswoman, but I’ve seen Miss Sinclair’s work, and it’s exemplary.”
Flynt Kavanaugh leaned back in his chair and studied Carter Corbin, seated opposite him behind the expansive desk. His boss’s scowl was so pronounced that his bushy gray eyebrows appeared as one.
“So you’ve said.” Corby, as everyone called the shrewd manager, folded his arms over his ample midsection. His features relaxed. An encouraging sign. “While I don’t cotton to having a woman join the team, when an engineer of your caliber says the lady in question is worth considering, the least I can do is interview her.”
Corby rummaged in his jacket’s breast pocket and produced a silver cigar case. “Don’t get your hopes up, though, son. An impressive portfolio is one thing. Producing quality drawings with the speed we require is another.”
Flynt shrugged off the cautious man’s concerns. Corby might not be quick to embrace change, but he was fair.
Once his boss saw Jessica Sinclair’s drawings, he’d have no choice but to admit she was the best person for the job. If everything Bishop had said was true, Miss Sinclair would have no trouble creating plenty more drawings on par with those he’d sent along with his glowing recommendation. The exacting engineer wasn’t one to exaggerate.
Corby opened his cigar case, releasing the pungent aroma of expensive tobacco, and offered Flynt one of the Cuban cigars. “Help yourself.”
“No, thanks. I don’t smoke.” He didn’t drink, either. Unlike the majority of men working on the El Dorado Canal, he refused to set foot in a saloon, although there were a number of them in town. He’d seen too many lives destroyed by a fondness for liquor and loose living.
Corby selected a cigar and slipped the sterling silver case back into his breast pocket. “You’re a fine leader, Flynt, but it’s possible you’ve shown a lapse in judgment this time. Having a woman around could complicate things.”
“Perhaps, but if she possesses the necessary skills, we’d be foolish to overlook her simply because she wears skirts. Kurt does a fine job as lead draftsman, but he lacks the mathematical prowess for the more complicated drawings.” Flynt needed someone who could take his ideas, perform the required calculations and produce conceptual drawings on occasion, but designing draftsmen were a rarity. That was why he’d invited Miss Sinclair up to Placerville for the interview.
The clip of boot heels interrupted his thoughts. “That must be her.” He jumped to his feet and rushed into the hallway, eager to meet the woman behind the drawings for the first time.
At the sight of Miss Sinclair, his heart broke into a gallop. Bishop had said she was comely, but that was an understatement. Striking would be a more apt description. The rich auburn locks visible beneath her simple bonnet gleamed in the sunlight streaming through the window. Her light-brown outfit was as unremarkable as her hat. It appeared she didn’t go in for the frills many women did. Even so, she would turn any man’s head.
But not his. He had no time for romantic pursuits. His career required his utmost attention. He would treat Miss Sinclair like any other member of his team.
She reached him and stated her business without hesitation. “Good morning. I’m here for my interview.”
He swallowed to moisten his throat, which had become dry. “I, um, figured you were.”
“To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?”
He gazed into the greenest eyes he’d ever seen. They glittered like emeralds, an intriguing sight. If a man looked into them too long, he might say just about anything. “I’m Flynt Kavanaugh, the engineer. Mr. Corbin, or Corby, as we all call him, is the manager. He’s inside.” Flynt tilted his head toward the office to his left.
The self-assured woman stood so close he got a whiff of her perfume. She smelled like spring. An image of picnics among wildflowers came to mind.
“I’m Jessica Sinclair.” She held out her hand, and he shook it. “I look forward to working with you, Mr. Kavanaugh.”
“Whether you will or not remains to be seen. You must complete the interview and land the job first.” He hoped she would, but she’d have to prove herself worthy of the position—and overcome Corby’s reluctance.
She gripped the strap of the cylindrical leather drawing case slung over her shoulder and studied him intently. One perfectly arched eyebrow rose, and her mouth quirked in a quizzical smile he found strangely appealing. “I see.”
“What exactly do you see?”
“A man who feels threatened by an intelligent woman invading his world, which I find odd. I was told you welcomed my application.”
The woman’s confidence could serve her well. “I do. I’ve heard enough to understand you can handle the job. Corby, on the other hand, needs convincing.”
“Oh.” She blinked several times, drawing attention to her long lashes. “Forgive me, Mr. Kavanaugh. I’m not used to a man as open-minded as you are.”
Her willingness to admit her mistake and follow it with a sincere compliment spoke to her character. “Please, call me Flynt.”
“Flint. Like the stone, I presume? A hard edge and useful when one wants to create sparks?” Her lovely lips twitched, as though she was stifling a laugh.
He drew his gaze from the captivating sight. “It’s Flynt. With a Y.”
She smiled once again, but this smile was as warm as the June day. “Well, Flynt with a Y, it’s clear working with you will be full of surprises.”
“Likewise, I’m sure.” Miss Sinclair had spice. Unlike most women he knew, she spoke her mind. There would be no simpering behind fans for her, which was refreshing. He’d witnessed more coquetry in his early days than he cared to remember.
“Since you seem to prefer informality, you may call me Jessie.”
A lovely name for a lovely lady. “Very well. I’ll introduce you to Corby now.” He was tempted to warn her not to be intimidated by Corby’s gruffness, but it was clear Jessie could handle herself.
Flynt made short work of the introductions. He and Jessie settled into the chairs in front of Corby’s desk.
The older man tugged at the ends of his heavily waxed handlebar mustache. “Why should I hire you, Miss Sinclair? Having a woman around is sure to stir up trouble.”
“Because I can do the job and do it well. Here. Let me show you.” She reached for the drawing case she’d propped against her chair, unfastened the buckle and withdrew the contents, which she held out to Corby. “I believe my work will speak for itself.”
Corby’s eyes widened and then narrowed. “You’re rather presumptuous, young lady.”
Flynt fought the urge to intervene. He wouldn’t do that for a man, so he couldn’t do that for her. If Jessie was to work here, she’d have to learn to deal with Corby’s brashness.
Jessie lifted her chin and leveled her gaze at Corby, her green eyes flashing. “You haven’t even looked at my drawings, sir, and yet it appears you’ve made up your mind to find fault with me simply because I’m a woman. I’d like to think you’ll give me the same consideration you would any other prospective employee.”
“All right. Show me.” Corby pointed to the rectangular conference table along the far wall of his office.
The forthright woman marched to the table and spread the stack of drawings on the tabletop, holding them down to keep them from curling. Corby stood beside her, his focus on the topmost sheet. Although he wasn’t an engineer, he did have some drafting experience. Hopefully enough to know what he was looking at. Even if he couldn’t follow the math, he could judge the quality of the drawings.
Flynt leaned back against the table with his arms and ankles crossed, watching the proceedings with interest. He’d learned about Jessie during an unexpected encounter with Bishop. Impressed by the drawings his friend had sent up prior to the interview, Flynt had sung her praises to Corby. He could do no more. Please, Lord, let her overcome Corby’s objections.
Any designing draftsman would do, but Flynt wanted Jessie. He hadn’t felt so strongly about a potential employee before, but he needed someone with her skills. Plus, Corby’s unfounded prejudice against her grated on Flynt. She deserved the opportunity to prove herself worthy of the position.
Although her work was exceptional, his desire to hire her was reinforced by his growing respect for the bright woman with a backbone of steel. It had nothing to do with her arresting good looks or her radiant smile. Nothing at all.
* * *
Only by tapping into her self-control was Jessie able to resist the urge to increase the distance between her and Mr. Corbin. The man’s overbearing manner rankled. What was worse was the scent of tobacco smoke that clung to him, bringing back memories of her days singing at the High Stakes Saloon.
No. She wouldn’t think about the past. She had a promising future, provided she secured this position at the El Dorado Water and Deep Gravel Mining Company. When her previous drafting job at a small irrigation company had come to an end, she’d set her sights on getting a more prestigious one. If that meant enduring yet another man’s scrutiny and proving herself capable in his eyes, so be it. She’d done it before, and she could do it again. “Are you finished with this one, sir? I do have three more drawings for you to look at.”
Mr. Corbin cleared his throat. “I’ll let you know when I’ve seen enough.”
She caught Flynt’s eye. He winked. At her. Not in a flirtatious manner, but all the same, his encouraging gesture surprised her. She preferred to keep things with her colleagues professional. Never would she let a man guess she was anything but a proper lady.
Which she was. Although she’d spent two years as a singer in Ace’s establishment, she wasn’t like the other girls. Miss Maggie might have taught her how to flirt, a lesson she’d learned well, but when Ace offered her the position, she’d made him promise that no man would be permitted to lay a hand on her. And none had. Not even Ace.
“Show me the next one,” Mr. Corbin barked.
“Certainly, sir.” She flipped to the second of the four drawings.
With the prickly manager occupied and Flynt, who stood beside him, focused on her work, as well, she was free to cast sidelong glances at the intriguing engineer. What an arresting profile he had, with his broad forehead and chiseled jawline.
A thick lock of his copper-colored hair had fallen across his forehead. She rarely encountered a red-haired man, although she was partial to the color. Others had teased her about her auburn tresses, but she counted them a blessing. After all, her red hair was what had kept her from going hungry.
That and her green eyes. Men did like looking into them. Flynt had. If he knew he’d been staring at her, wide-eyed, when he’d first seen her, he would probably cringe. For some reason, knowing he’d been enthralled tickled her.
While she didn’t set out to use her physical appearance to her advantage, a woman did enjoy appreciative glances. The Lord deserved all the credit as her Creator, but she got to enjoy the admiration His handiwork brought about.
Jessie’s shoulders were protesting by the time Mr. Corbin completed his examination. She heaved a grateful sigh, put the drawings back in her case and returned to the utilitarian bentwood chair she’d occupied earlier.
The portly man plopped into his large leather wingback chair, reached for a cigar lying on his desk and passed it under his nose, inhaling audibly. He’d spent the last five minutes doing nothing but grunting every now and then. If he didn’t say something soon, she’d—
“So, what do you think, Corby?” Flynt, seated beside her once again, leaned forward. “Her work is exceptional, isn’t it?”
She hadn’t expected Flynt to be so supportive, but he was acting as her advocate. And what had she done? Made a fool of herself, that was what. She’d come right out and accused him of feeling threatened by her, which clearly he wasn’t. At least she’d realized her mistake promptly. In a gentlemanly fashion, he’d accepted her apology and seemed to harbor her no ill will.
“What do I think?” Mr. Corbin’s question jolted her back to the present. “I’ve seen enough to warrant a trial.” He shifted his focus from Flynt to her. “I’d like you to complete a drawing for us, Miss Sinclair. I want to see what you can do when the pressure’s on.”
“That’s understandable. I’ll do whatever you’d like.”
The skeptical manager pinned her with an intense gaze. “I’m willing to let you finish the interview process since Flynt has vouched for you, but I believe having a woman working here could invite trouble. What do you think the men will do when you walk in there?” He inclined his head toward a large drafting room visible through the office’s side window. “They’ll take their eyes off their boards and clap them on you, that’s what.”
She pasted on her most reassuring smile. “You needn’t concern yourself with that. I’ve had plenty of experience dealing with men’s stares and attitudes.” More than he could possibly imagine. “I can handle myself.”
“It’s not you I’m worried about. It’s the deadlines we have to meet. The directors want to see progress. I can’t afford any slowdowns.”
Flynt intervened once again. “You’re right, Corby. Having a woman on the team will change things, but change can bring about improvements.”
While she appreciated Flynt’s support, the man himself was a puzzle. One minute he addressed her as a business associate, and the next his gaze roved over her with what she could only describe as attraction. Or was it simply admiration? Yes, that must be it.
Silence hung in the air until Flynt broke it. “My men are likely to work harder to impress Jessie.”
Corby scoffed. “I reckon the fellows will be more interested in her than they are in their work. Mark my words. They’ll produce fewer drawings because of her. Not more.” He shifted his attention to Jessie. “Why did you become a draftsman—draftswoman, anyhow? It’s not...normal.”
She’d fielded that question more times than she could count. “Few men are willing to believe a woman desires to do anything other than bear children, fix meals and wash clothes. But we’re capable of more than that, although few of us are given the opportunity. Be that as it may, I have nothing but respect for the women who’ve chosen marriage and motherhood.”
With her questionable past, she couldn’t aspire to either, no matter how much the idea of being loved and loving someone in return appealed to her. “Because I have neither a husband nor children, I’m forced to provide for myself, just as you are. I have an affinity for arithmetic and have found a profession that utilizes my skills. I happen to enjoy it, too.”
Mr. Corbin scowled. “You’re not one of those suffragettes, are you?”
She chose her words carefully. “I don’t stand in protest lines, no, but I am sympathetic to the plight of women. Perhaps one day our voices will be heard. In the meantime, I’m content to do my job to the best of my ability.”
“Good. It sounds like you know your place.”
Jessie bit back a sharp retort. Traditionally minded men such as Mr. Corbin couldn’t be won over with mere words. She needed to show him what she could do. “I’m ready to move on to the next stage of the interview, sir.”
Mr. Corbin shook his head. If Jessie wasn’t mistaken, he was smiling, although with that enormous handlebar mustache hiding his upper lip, she couldn’t be sure. “You’re certainly eager, young lady. I’ll grant you that. Flynt can take you out and get you started on a drawing. He’ll oversee your work, but the final decision is mine.”
Jessie accompanied Flynt to the rectangular drafting room. Four identical drafting tables faced a bank of large windows on the west side of the room. Four heads turned toward her, curiosity evident in each face.
Flynt introduced her to his team, once again the professional engineer. “Gentlemen, this is Miss Jessica Sinclair. She’s going to complete a drawing for me.”
She smiled and nodded a greeting at each of the young men in turn. She received two answering smiles and two frowns.
A sandy-haired fellow at the drafting table farthest from her jumped off his stool and approached. “Welcome, Miss Sinclair. It’s not every day we welcome a fine lady like you into the Den.”
“The Den? Is that what you call your drawing office?”
“Yup. The mine over yonder is called Coon Hollow.” The draftsman, a fence post of a fellow who looked all of nineteen, inclined his head toward the windowless eastern wall. “Since raccoons spend a good part of their year holed up in dens like we do in our office, we fellows dubbed this the Den.”
“Well, I’m honored to be in your Den and am pleased to meet you, Mr....?”
“My name’s Rufus Rawlings, but everyone calls me Trace on account of I do nothing but tracings most of the time. Every now and then Flynt lets me draw something on my own, though.”
As the lone woman in a man’s world, she’d learned long ago to cultivate all the friendships she could. “I spent a year doing the same. Tracings are an essential contribution to any engineering firm. Without them, valuable information could be lost if an original were to get damaged.”
Trace turned to his colleagues with a mile-wide smile on his face. “Did you hear that, fellows? My tracings are ‘essential contributions.’”
The dour draftsman at the table beside Trace’s grumbled. “Just what we need. Trace all puffed up.”
“That’s enough, Arnold.” Flynt returned his attention to Trace. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, but those tracings won’t get done if you’re standing here talking.”
“Right, sir. I’ll get to work on my— What were they called again? Oh, yes. My ‘essential contributions.’” He grinned at Jessie and returned to his board.
“Come, Jessie.” Flynt held out a hand toward a magnificent drafting table at the front of the room, set apart from the others. “I’ll get you started.”
She followed, speaking in a low voice. “Trace is certainly enthusiastic, isn’t he?”
“I could give the lad more interesting assignments if he weren’t so slow and meticulous, but he lacks the confidence that comes with experience.” Flynt paused and pulled a sheet of paper from one of the drafting cabinets running down the center of the room.
“And yet you’ve kept him on?”
“I’m all for giving a man an opportunity to prove himself. Or a woman.” He sent her a sidelong glance—and a warm smile that transformed him from simply good-looking to delightfully handsome.
No. She mustn’t allow herself to notice such things. Her success depended on keeping a level head and doing exceptional work. In order to be accepted, she had to perform better and faster than the men in the office. At the same time, she couldn’t say or do anything that could be perceived as a threat to them and their positions. She often felt like she was teetering on a tightrope high above the earth, with her male colleagues below her hoping she would come crashing down.
But Flynt was different. She’d sung for hundreds of men at the High Stakes, and yet none of them had shown her the kindness or consideration he had. If she were looking for a romantic relationship, he was the type of man she’d be drawn to.
Not that she could consider such a thing. A bright, successful engineer would want a proper woman, not someone who’d spent two years in a saloon entertaining a roomful of rowdy men. Even though she’d been modestly dressed and had never spent time alone with a single High Stakes customer, she bore the stain of her past. She’d seen how the women at her church back East had flocked together, their feathers ruffled, when the minister’s wife had invited her to attend services.
But the Lord had accepted her and provided a way for her to leave that life behind. And here she was, a respectable woman with a rewarding profession.
Provided no one learned her shameful secret.
Chapter Two (#ulink_5a1b3c3c-a68c-53e2-b84c-9a110f47d5fc)
In no time, Flynt had a sheet of drafting paper adhered to his board. In order for Jessie to convince Corby she was the right person for the job, she would need to handle a challenging assignment. He had one in mind.
“Before you begin, I want to give you an overview of the project.” He gestured with one hand. “After you.”
She covered the distance quickly and faced the back wall, studying the twenty-foot-long drawing of the canal stretched across its surface and looking...enraptured. That was the only word he could think of to describe the wide-eyed wonder on her lovely face. She turned toward him, her eyes alight. “This is magnificent! The Weber Creek Ditch I worked on was just six miles long, but if I read things correctly, the El Dorado Canal is going to be over thirty, with a good four miles of wooden flumes.”
“That’s right.”
Her forehead furrowed. “Why are you smiling?”
Was he? He schooled his features. “You really do enjoy the work, don’t you?”
“Very much.” She straightened to her full height, bringing the top of her head level with his shoulder. With her standing so close, he could imagine taking her in his arms, gazing into her sparkling green eyes and lowering his face until his lips brushed—
What was he doing harboring such thoughts? He had no intention of courting anyone, especially a potential colleague. Women couldn’t be trusted. His mother, a successful madam who’d abandoned him at the age of seven, and Ma Hagerty, who’d taken him in and promptly broken her promise to treat him like her own son, had taught him that.
Jessie assumed a businesslike tone. “If I’m to overcome Mr. Corbin’s objections, I should get to work on that drawing. What do you have in mind?”
While he admired Miss Jessica Sinclair, professional draftswoman, with her forthright manner, he’d enjoyed a glimpse of the gleeful girl inside her. “I’d like you to do a preliminary drawing of the next section.”
Moments later he stood at his drafting board with Jessie at his side studying the surveyor’s notes he’d handed her. “I understand what I’m to do, so I can get started.”
“Very well.” He opened the cabinet beneath his board, where he kept his rulers, compasses, drawing pens and such. “Help yourself to whatever you need.”
She blinked several times, once again drawing his attention to her long lashes and those gorgeous green eyes. He had to force himself not to stare.
“That’s an impressive collection. While I appreciate your offer, I have my own tools, which I left with the clerk in the lobby. I’ll get them.” She took two steps and stopped. “I’d like to wash my hands before I begin so I don’t soil my drawing. Where might I do that?”
“There’s a small closet with a washstand opposite Corby’s office. You’ll find plenty of pegs for hats and coats. Feel free to claim one of the empty shelves for your lunch pail, drawing case and anything else you brought.”
“Very good. I’ll be back shortly.”
No sooner had Jessie left the room than two of Flynt’s draftsmen descended on him. The ever-exuberant Trace reached him first. “Is she going to be working with us?”
“Could be. We’ll know soon enough.”
“Whoo whee! Won’t that be fun?”
“No!” Kurt, who sat at the board nearest Flynt’s, joined them. Could the young man’s scowl be any more pronounced? “We don’t need a dame here.”
Flynt bit back a rebuke. “Miss Sinclair is a lady, and we’ll treat her accordingly.”
“Fine,” Kurt muttered. “If you want to hire a woman, that’s your business, but I don’t have to like it.”
“No, but I don’t want to hear any disparaging terms. Now, how about returning to your stations, gentlemen? You have work to do.”
Kurt trudged back to his board. His outburst was understandable. He’d worked hard to establish himself as the lead draftsman. To have his position threatened by another man would be tough, but having the threat come from a woman could be even harder to take.
Trace leaned close and lowered his voice. “You don’t have to worry on my account, sir. I think she’s nice.”
Jessie returned a short time later looking rather, well, cute. She’d removed her hat, revealing her full head of striking auburn hair, and donned a black apron and matching sleeve protectors. Since she couldn’t work in rolled-up shirtsleeves as he and his men did, her precautions made sense. Through the years he’d ended up with a number of India-ink stains on his clothing.
She wound his stool up to the proper height for her and hopped onto the padded leather seat. The rungs weren’t in the right place for her to rest her feet comfortably, and yet she didn’t complain. She just got to work performing her initial calculations on a sheet of scrap paper.
He plunked a spare stool beside his board, close enough to see everything, but far enough away so as not to crowd her. Since she was using his drafting table, he couldn’t work on a drawing. Not that he minded this opportunity to study her. She was a sight to behold.
She reached for a ruler in her tool case on the small side table and paused. “Are you going to sit there the entire time?”
“I’d planned to. Why? Does that bother you?”
“A little, perhaps, but I can deal with it.”
He appreciated her honesty. “I can tell a lot from looking at a drawing, but I can’t evaluate the effectiveness of a person’s methods unless I watch him or her work.” Based on what he’d seen so far, Jessie was accurate, thorough and exacting, the very traits he sought.
“Well, then, I’ll just have to ignore you as best I can.” She gave him a saucy smile.
He grabbed a sketch pad and pencil and doodled, a longtime habit of his. Although plenty of work awaited him, he wouldn’t be able to concentrate, not with Jessie close by smelling like— What was it exactly? He inhaled deeply. Lilac. No wonder thoughts of spring had come to mind when he’d first met her.
Her penciled drawing took shape far more quickly than he would have expected. He forced himself to observe her from his stool. Although he was tempted to take a closer look, there would be time for that later.
She had the most appealing way of humming to herself as she worked, so softly that he would be surprised if any of the other men could hear. Her repertoire consisted entirely of hymns. She, too, must have put her faith in Christ.
The morning passed more quickly than Flynt had expected. In addition to watching Jessie work, he’d fielded an unprecedented number of questions from the draftsmen, even Kurt, who wouldn’t ask for help unless absolutely necessary. The fellows had also worn a groove in the floorboards with their frequent trips to the privy out back. Each time one of the men passed by, he paused to peer at Jessie’s drawing or make an idle comment. She’d dealt with each interruption graciously and gotten back to work as quickly as possible.
George left his station beside Kurt’s and ambled over. “It’s noon, Miss Sinclair. I wondered if you’d like to eat your lunch in the shade of that large oak out front. I’d be happy to keep you company.”
The invitation didn’t surprise Flynt. George fancied himself a ladies’ man.
Jessie flashed George a friendly smile. “What a wonderful idea. The others could join us, too, enabling all of us to get acquainted.”
Flynt had to hand it to her. She’d deflected George’s advances with finesse.
The room cleared quickly. A jolt of excitement surged through Flynt. He could examine Jessie’s drawing at last. If he wasn’t mistaken, Corby would be forced to admit that she was the right person for the job.
She stepped back into the room, her lunch pail in hand. “Did you plan on eating with us?”
“Not today. I want to talk with Corby.” He did. After he’d reviewed her work.
“Very well.” She rubbed her lower back with her free hand.
He’d noticed her roll her shoulders a few times as she worked, too. “Are you all right?”
“Just a bit stiff, that’s all. I’ll see you later.” She left, her boot heels thudding on the wooden floor.
Alone at last. He stood before her drawing, scrutinizing every detail, checking every angle, verifying every calculation. His admiration grew. If her final inked copy was on par with her penciled version, Corby would have no choice but to accept her as a member of the team.
Flynt strode to Corby’s office and opened the door. A whiff of cigar smoke greeted him. “Do you have a minute?”
Corby beckoned Flynt inside. “Come to lobby for your candidate, have you?” He snuffed out his cigar.
“Her work is outstanding. You can see for yourself.” He held out a hand toward the Den. “I assigned her a drawing that would challenge even the most seasoned draftsman, and yet she tackled it without hesitation.”
“You want me to hire her, don’t you? Even though she’s already created a stir? I saw the trail of men heading her way. They were like ants drawn to a sugar bowl.”
Flynt plopped into one of the chairs in front of Corby’s desk. “They’ve been trooping by, yes, but the novelty will fade soon enough.” He certainly hoped that was the case. George was so infatuated it was a wonder he’d gotten any work done. Not that Flynt could blame him. Jessie was a distraction, albeit a pleasant one.
“And if it doesn’t? What then?”
“I’m sure it will. But if not, I’ll do whatever’s necessary to restore order.”
Corby’s bushy eyebrows formed a V. “You’re not smitten or anything, are you?”
“No, sir!” He wasn’t. He couldn’t be. “It’s just that she’s what I need. I mean her work is.”
“I see. So you’re asking me to set aside my concerns and offer her the job? Well, son, since you’ve assured me you’ll do whatever’s necessary to make this work, I’ll take a look at her drawing. And I’ll keep an open mind.”
“I appreciate that.”
Corby followed Flynt to the Den and studied Jessie’s drawing—with a magnifying glass. Flynt waited expectantly for his boss’s assessment.
At length Corby completed his examination. “She’s good, I’ll grant you that, but I have my reservations. We’ll have to see how things go. Now, if you’ve seen enough and are satisfied with the way she goes about her work, do you think you could resume yours? I don’t want us to fall behind.”
“Certainly. Arnold’s tooth has been troubling him, so he headed downtown to have it extracted. He’ll be out this afternoon and tomorrow, so I can use his board.” Because Arnold had been in pain, he’d said little to Jessie. His glare had done the talking for him. Evidently he didn’t like having her there any more than Kurt did.
“That will do, until her drafting table arrives.”
Flynt couldn’t hide his surprise. “You’ve already ordered one? But I didn’t think you wanted—”
“I’m not blind. I saw how adamant you were about hiring Jessie. I have my reservations, but I wouldn’t be much of a manager if I didn’t take my engineer’s preferences into account. And you want the lovely lady.” Corby clapped a hand on Flynt’s shoulder. “Can’t say as I blame you. If I were a young man, my head would be turned, too.”
“It’s not like that. She’s the best qualified.”
“So you’ve said. Her board will be delivered tomorrow.” Corby headed toward his office, stopped and spun on his heel. “Just see that your men get their work done, or I’ll have to intervene.”
Flynt blew out a breath. He’d worked hard to ensure that things in the Den ran smoothly, but they’d gotten a lot more interesting. He would have to do some serious thinking about how to regain control without singling Jessie out because he wanted her on his team. More than he cared to admit.
* * *
The rugged beauty of the Sierra Foothills appealed to Jessie. From her seat in the back of the wagon sent to transport Flynt’s team from their offices down to Placerville’s main street at the end of the workday, she had a good view of the valley below. A few sprawling oaks and some scrubby manzanita bushes dotted the steep sides of the ravine to the west. All the pine trees for miles around had been cut down to provide wood for the growing town.
Somewhere far below, Weber Creek wove its way through the gorge. As the hot, dry summer wore on, the water currently flowing freely would dwindle, leaving residents eager for the first rain of the season come September. Not too many years from now, thanks to the efforts of her new employer, the El Dorado Canal would carry the plentiful water from alpine lakes in the Sierras to the thirsty valley below. Being part of such a grand undertaking was a dream come true. And she would be part of it because she’d gotten the job and would be working alongside Flynt. He’d told her just before quitting time that once she completed the inked version of her drawing the next day, he would sign off on it.
The handsome engineer sat to her right on the plank wagon seat. She stole a glance at him, as she had several times during the day. Why she felt herself drawn to Flynt, she didn’t know. Perhaps it was the creases that bracketed his mouth, evidence of many smiles, or his wavy hair that begged to be touched. Not that she would ever dream of doing such a thing, even though that unruly lock had fallen across his forehead. Again.
She shifted to a more comfortable position. Because Flynt’s stool wasn’t designed for a person of her stature, her shoulders and lower back had begun protesting even before George had invited her to eat lunch with him. They ached now, but a good night’s sleep should help.
George had claimed the spot to her left. He scooted nearer. Because Flynt was on her right behind the driver’s seat, she couldn’t move without getting uncomfortably close to him.
“Are you as happy to be working with us as we are to have you?” George asked.
The overly friendly fellow might like having her there, but Kurt, seated opposite her, had gone out of his way to register his complaints. She could deal with his outward hostility, but she found Arnold’s withering looks and brooding silence unsettling. His departure before the lunch she’d shared with the other members of Flynt’s team had been a relief.
“I’m excited about the project.” Ever since she’d heard of John Kirk’s plan to harness the water from high atop the Sierras, she’d dreamed of working to bring it about. When her previous boss, Mr. Bishop, had told her he’d secured an interview for her with the El Dorado Water and Deep Gravel Mining Company, she’d had a hard time believing it. And yet here she was, the newest member of Flynt’s team.
Trace, who sat beside Kurt, broke the lingering silence. “You’ve got a real way with numbers, Jessie. I could never do what you did today.”
Kurt gave a dry laugh. “That’s the truth. You’re hard-pressed to complete a tracing without making a mistake.”
Jessie gritted her teeth to keep from saying something she’d regret. How dare Kurt lash out at Trace like that? She drew in a calming breath. “We all make mistakes. I’ve certainly made my fair share.”
“I make them, too.”
Flynt’s admission took her by surprise. Apparently it had surprised his men, as well, because not one of the three said a word.
He continued. “I’ve always used a penknife to scrape off an errant mark, but Jessie uses a different method that leaves the paper in better shape. I’ll have her demonstrate it for us tomorrow.”
His offhand compliment left her at a loss for words. She’d cringed inwardly when her pen had slipped and she’d been forced to rub off the excess ink with a bit of Oakey’s glass paper. Flynt had watched her carefully, adding to her nervousness. Instead of finding fault with her, though, he’d been admiring her. She peered at him shyly and was rewarded with an understanding smile.
Kurt mumbled something.
Flynt turned to him. “What was that, Kurt?”
“Nothing, sir.”
Very little escaped Flynt’s notice. So he must be aware of the constant interruptions she’d dealt with all day. She’d handled them with a combination of humor and tact, but if nothing was done to put a stop to them, they would slow her down.
Mr. Bishop had gone out in the field quite often, leaving her in the office with the two draftsmen who also worked for the small irrigation company. They’d pestered her every chance they got. She didn’t want to endure that again.
They reached the end of Coon Hollow Road and started down Sacramento Hill. The wagon creaked, which came as no surprise. The grade must be around 13 percent. Jessie clutched the edge of the seat to keep from sliding into Flynt.
George didn’t hold on, and the ten inches that had separated them became two. She doubted that was an accident. He leaned even closer. She had to force herself not to jab him in the side with her elbow. “The fellows and I rent rooms at the Ohio House hotel. Where are you staying, Jessie?”
She kept her answer vague. “In a boardinghouse up on Coloma Street.”
“Ah, yes. That would be Maybelle Monroe’s place, wouldn’t it? I’ll gladly walk you home.”
Before she could reply, Flynt intervened, speaking in an authoritative tone. “That won’t be necessary, George.”
Flynt exchanged a few indistinguishable words with the stoop-shouldered driver straining on the brake and turned toward her. “It’s all settled. Harvey will run you home, Jessie, and then return to Main Street and let us off. He’ll be back to pick you up in the morning.”
“Thank you.” He’d spared her the need to decline George’s offer.
She’d dealt with more besotted men than she cared to remember. They’d flocked to the High Stakes night after night to hear her sing. No. Not her. Jade, as she’d been called in those days.
That part of her life was over, and yet the memories persisted. Men gazing at her with unbridled interest as she entertained the saloon’s patrons with one lively tune after another. Men promising her all manner of things if she’d spend a little time with them. Men refusing to take no for an answer and being tossed into the street as a result.
Barely sixteen when she’d begun singing for Ace’s patrons, she hadn’t known how to handle the attention. She’d received counsel from Miss Maggie, the owner of the brothel upstairs, who’d given motherly advice to all her girls. Although Jessie had never been one of them, she’d learned a good deal from the seasoned woman about how to handle too-friendly fellows.
As unobtrusively as possible, Jessie inched away from George. He hadn’t become too much of a problem—yet—and she planned to keep it that way.
The wagon rounded the corner at the bottom of Sacramento Hill, also known as Sacramento Street, and traveled a short distance along Main. The driver waited in front of the Arch Saloon for his turn onto Coloma Street. A colorfully clad saloon girl shoved her way through the swinging doors and sashayed up the street.
Flynt folded his arms over his chest and made a disapproving sound low in his throat.
Jessie angled toward him. “What’s wrong?”
Before he could respond, George leaned close. “Flynt is no friend of saloons, and he has a strong dislike of saloon girls, too. He makes that same sound whenever he sees one.”
“I see.” She’d have to be careful never to say or do anything that would cause Flynt to suspect she was anything other than the lady she appeared to be. If he were to find out about her days as a saloon singer, his opinion of her would surely change. He might even refuse to work with her.
Minutes later Harvey pulled up in front of Maybelle’s place. George jumped to his feet. “Wait a minute, Jessie. I’ll run and get that chair on the porch for you to step onto.”
Flynt stood. “No need. I’ve got it.”
He held out a hand, helped her to her feet and leaped from the back of the wagon. She waited at the edge of the bed.
“Lean over and put your hands on my shoulders.”
The chair suddenly seemed a much better idea, but she complied. He wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her to the ground. The short flight through the air left her light-headed. Or had her breathlessness come about because he’d raced to her rescue?
Ever since she’d discovered the story of Cinderella as a girl, she’d dreamed of a handsome prince sweeping her off her feet. Flynt might not be a prince, but he was kind, chivalrous and handsome. With his thick, wavy hair and that warm smile...
No. He was grinning. And she was staring.
She mentally shook herself and stepped out of his hold. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. See you tomorrow.” He reached into the wagon for her lunch pail and drawing case, handed them to her and doffed his hat.
She stood entranced as Harvey turned the wagon around and headed back downtown. What would it be like to have a gentleman like Flynt interested in her? A decent man who knew there was more to her than a “pretty face” and a “lilting voice,” the only attributes the men at the High Stakes had cared about?
Because of her disreputable past, she would never know.
Chapter Three (#ulink_db3f8c8e-5ac4-583b-9183-0d1c0dd1a1da)
There. She’d done her best.
Jessie faced Flynt’s drawing board the next day shortly before noon, studying her most impressive work to date. She massaged her lower back to ease the stiffness.
Footfalls signaled Flynt’s approach. He stopped behind her, and she felt a gentle pressure on her shoulder. Surprised by the unexpected contact, she turned and looked at his large, masculine hand resting there.
He jerked it away. “I’m sorry.”
She wasn’t. His gesture had meant nothing to him, of course. But it meant something to her. Acceptance. That was what had increased her heart rate. Not the memory of his hands on her waist the night before and the resulting warmth that had spread through her. She stifled a smile. “Shall I file my drawing and get to work on the next?”
A red flush crept over the collar of his white shirt. “By all means. I’ll get you set up.”
Trace joined them. “Whoo whee! That’s quite the drawing, Jessie. I’d be hard-pressed to trace it, let alone draw it.”
She appreciated the young man’s enthusiastic support, but she didn’t want to attract any more attention. The draftsmen had been passing by her station or stopping to chat all morning. “I’m sure you’re far more capable than you think.”
Flynt nodded. “That’s true, Trace. Once you pick up your pace, I’ll be able to give you more challenging assignments.”
Trace’s eyes widened. “Do you mean that, sir? Of course you do! I’ll work hard. You’ll see.”
Kurt ambled over. “So is the golden girl finally finished?”
Several retorts flashed through Jessie’s mind, but she kept them to herself. Instead she laughed and patted her hair. “No gold here. Just lots of red.”
“Auburn, actually.”
Flynt’s unexpected comment took her aback. Perhaps she shouldn’t be surprised. After all, he was observant. But noticing elements of a drawing or comments by a colleague was different than noticing a woman’s hair color.
“And a beautiful shade of auburn it is, too.” George joined the group gathered in front of her drawing.
A rap on Corby’s office window drew their attention. The manager stood behind the glass shaking his head and frowning. Not a good sign.
“Gentlemen, I need to get Jessie started on a new drawing. Return to your boards, please.” Flynt’s firm tone sent the men hurrying back to their drafting tables, leaving her alone with him. He flipped through his notebook.
She used the time to study him. Learning to read a man’s character had become a means of survival. After spending just two weeks at the High Stakes, she had been able to determine which men were harmless, which would require a firm hand and which to avoid altogether.
Unfortunately, Miss Maggie’s girls hadn’t had the luxury of refusing to entertain a paying customer, a problem Jessie had never faced. Ace had promised that no one would bother her, provided she allowed everyone to believe she was his little lady. And no one had.
She’d come to know the Lord during those difficult days. He’d protected her and helped her leave that life behind.
Based on what she’d seen on the way home the day before, Flynt had a strong dislike of saloons and wouldn’t set foot in one. She certainly couldn’t imagine him ogling a woman the way Ace’s patrons had ogled her. Flynt had shown her kindness and consideration from the outset. Working for such a man would be a pleasure.
Kurt muttered something, but she ignored him. She’d worked hard to get where she was. Some people weren’t going to be happy, and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it. If she’d let the naysayers have their way, she would still be sweeping floors and emptying dustbins at Mr. Fullerton’s office back in Chicago.
Bless the kindly engineer. Thanks to him, she’d been able to leave the High Stakes behind and learn how to draw. All because he’d found her one sunny Sunday six years ago sketching the quaint church she’d attended back East and had given her a job at his engineering firm. She’d come to California in ’70, armed with the knowledge she’d acquired from Mr. Fullerton, and had finally gotten her first drafting job two years later when Mr. Bishop hired her.
Flynt quickly outlined her next assignment, and then he turned and addressed his team. “In honor of Jessie completing her first drawing, you may leave for lunch early. Enjoy yourselves.”
Rather than joining the others, Jessie found a shady spot behind the office and enjoyed a solitary meal. She hadn’t seen a hydraulic mining operation up close before, so she watched in awe as the huge monitors shot high-powered streams of water up to five hundred feet, blasting away the hillside. The process was fascinating, even if the destruction of such beautiful scenery wasn’t. The miners needed the water from the canal she would help design, but she preferred to think about the crops that would flourish with a proper irrigation system.
The whistle blew, signaling the end of the break. She deposited her lunch pail in the closet, washed up and returned to the Den, eager to begin her next drawing.
She entered to find Trace and George standing in front of a brand-new drafting table in the spot between Kurt’s board and Flynt’s, which had been empty before.
Trace turned, a grin on his face. “Look what was delivered while we were at lunch.”
George sauntered to her side. “Allow me to escort you to your station.” He held out his arm.
She wrapped one hand around his elbow and pressed the other to her chest. “That lovely board is mine?”
Trace loped over to take her other arm. “It’s a beauty, isn’t it?”
Kurt, seated at his drafting table, spit his response. “It’s fancy.”
That it was. The four draftsmen’s tables had plain black bases with three heavy brass feet. Her board’s base was all black with beautiful gold stenciling.
Kurt kept his focus on his drawing. “Wait until Arnold sees it. He’ll have something to say, for sure.”
Trace gave her arm a brotherly squeeze before releasing it. “Don’t pay him any mind. He’s just upset on account of his board isn’t as fine.”
“Yours is very nice, Jessie. Look at this.” George pulled out a drawer on the upper left. “There’s a matching one on the other side.”
“Sure is.” Trace pulled it open. “There’s something inside. Instructions perhaps?” He pulled out a cylindrical piece of paper and handed it to Jessie.
She unrolled it and spread it on the drafting board. Her drafting board. “It’s a drawing.”
“For a drafting stool?” Trace scratched his head. “Why?”
“That’s a good question.” George stood behind her and placed his hand so close to hers they practically touched.
She pulled hers away and ran a fingertip over the legend, where the initials FK appeared. According to the date, Flynt had completed the drawing the day before. But what had prompted him to do so? And why was the drawing in the drawer of her drafting board? She checked the dimensions. The stool had a circular rung right where she would need it.
“Look!” George directed her attention to a penciled note at the bottom of the paper. The notation indicated that the stool was being built by a furniture maker downtown and would be delivered by the end of the week. “It seems you’re going to have a stool just your size.”
As much as Flynt’s gesture meant to her, he’d given her special attention. She couldn’t allow that. “Excuse me, please. I need to speak with Flynt.” She headed for the door.
Trace stopped her. “What’s wrong, Jessie? Don’t you like the board?”
“I do, but...” She glanced at Kurt, whose rigid posture and jerky movements evidenced his displeasure. “I’ll be back.”
She found Flynt in the hallway. “Why did you do it?”
He stopped short. “What did I do?”
“You designed a stool for me. Between that and the new board...” She shook her head. “It’s different than the others. It should be the same.”
“I designed the stool, but I had nothing to do with the board. You’ll have to take that up with Corby.” He jabbed a thumb toward the manager’s office. “It was all his doing.”
Her irritation faded. She softened her voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. It’s just that I don’t appreciate being singled out. It’s hard enough for me to gain acceptance as it is.”
“That wasn’t my intention. I saw how sitting on an ill-fitting stool caused you discomfort. My goal was simply to make things easier on you.”
Her lips parted. She quickly pressed them together, drew in a calming breath and attempted to set things right. “I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions. As I said before, I’m not used to being shown such consideration.”
But Flynt wasn’t like many of the other men she’d known. “The stool will be wonderful. I look forward to using it. And I do appreciate your thoughtfulness, even though I misinterpreted things.”
“Apology accepted.” He held out a hand toward the Den. “How about returning to your station so I can get you started on that new drawing?”
“I want to talk with Corby.”
“I know. You will. Later.”
He was right. Approaching their manager in her present state wasn’t a good idea. Besides, the beautiful drafting table could be his way of showing her that he wasn’t as resistant to having her there as he’d led her to believe. She’d have to give that some thought.
The afternoon passed quickly. Working on her new board was a joy.
Before Jessie knew it, the whistle for the mine’s shift change blew, signaling the end of their workday. She put her tools away and gathered her things from the closet. Lunch pail in hand, she hurried to Corby’s office and rapped on the door.
“Come in.”
She stepped into the smoky room and was transported back in time to the High Stakes, where the air had been blue on busy nights. She shoved aside the memory. “Good evening, sir. Do you have a minute?”
“Indeed. I was actually going to call you in. Would you ask Flynt to join us, please? I have something important to discuss with the two of you before Harvey shows up with the wagon.”
Corby’s serious tone didn’t bode well. “Yes, sir, but first I wanted to discuss my drafting board.”
“Do you like it?”
“It’s wonderful, but—” she summoned her courage, which had a tendency to falter when he frowned, as he did now “—I don’t know that it’s the wisest choice.”
“Why’s that?”
She clutched the handle of her lunch pail so tightly it dug into her palm. “It draws attention to the fact that I’m a woman.”
“You are a woman, Jessie.” A fact he liked to point out. “According to my wife, Delia, women like pretty things. Isn’t that right?”
There would be no arguing with him, so she might as well accept his generosity. “Thank you for the board. It’s very nice, but I would appreciate it if you would treat me like the other members of Flynt’s team from now on.”
“Your request is noted. Now, if you’ll get Flynt...” He dismissed her with a wave of his hand.
She located Flynt in front of the office and relayed Corby’s request.
Flynt fell into step beside her. “Did he say what it’s about?”
“No. Just that it’s important and won’t take long.”
“It doesn’t have anything to do with your drafting board, does it?”
She shook her head. “That matter’s been resolved.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Flynt opened the door to Corby’s office and followed her inside.
Corby looked up. “Good. You’re here.”
Flynt pulled out a chair for her, and she took a seat. Then he sat. “What’s this about?”
Jessie admired his forthright manner. She’d learned to speak her mind without preamble as men did, but her confidence wavered in the face of Corby’s scowl.
He gathered the papers on his desktop into a single pile, thumped them on the surface to even the edges and set the stack aside. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his barrel chest. “As I feared, having a woman on the team has created challenges.”
A sense of foreboding filled Jessie. “If it’s about the drawing board, I apologize for taking issue with it.”
Corby shook his head, causing the ends of his massive mustache to dance. “It has nothing to do with that.”
She chose to be as direct as Flynt had been. “Then what did you want to discuss, sir?”
“Your presence in the Den has caused quite a stir. The fellows have spent far too much time vying for your attention—or fighting you. I’ve come up with possible solutions sure to get things back on track.”
Corby paused, bouncing his gaze between her and Flynt, which unsettled her even more.
“What did you have in mind?” Flynt leaned forward, clearly as eager to find out what ideas Corby had come up with as she.
“Moving Jessie to a different location would solve the problem.” Corby shifted his attention to her. “There’s a small room down the hall opposite the surveyors’ office. Working there would eliminate the distraction in the Den and give you privacy.”
“That won’t do.” Flynt’s tone was firm. “There are no windows, just a skylight. That’s insufficient. When she leaned over, she would cast shadows on her drawing.”
She couldn’t endure such conditions. Even if the lighting wasn’t an issue, the isolation would be. “I agree. And I need to be near Flynt. His direction is essential.”
Corby nodded. “That’s true, which is why I came up with a viable alternative. We could move your board to the end of the row and create a partition between your station and the others. You would have adequate lighting and wouldn’t be a distraction.”
Flynt responded in a firm tone. “She shouldn’t be shut off by herself just because she’s a woman. She’s a member of my team and deserves the same treatment as everyone else.”
Emboldened by Flynt’s show of support, she challenged Corby. “There’s got to be something else that could be done. Couldn’t Flynt just tell them to get back to work? He is their boss, after all.”
“He has, numerous times, but they’re young men. If there’s an attractive, available young woman in their midst, they’re going to be watching her. They can’t help themselves. What we need is an invisible barrier, so to speak.”
Flynt’s brow creased in confusion. “What do you mean? You’re obviously not talking about a sheet of glass.”
Corby fingered his watch fob. The jangling of the gold chain heightened Jessie’s apprehension. “If the two of you were to spend time together, that could solve the problem.”
Relief relaxed her shoulders, which she hadn’t realized she’d tensed. Corby’s request was a simple one. “We will, especially if I’m working closely with Flynt on designs.”
Flynt speared a hand through his thick hair, leaving it tousled. She fought the urge to reach up and straighten it for him. “I don’t think he means here in the Den, Jessie.”
“He’s right.” Corby looked her full in the face. His own registered determination, with his brow furrowed and mouth tight. “My plan is for the two of you to be seen together outside of work at social functions and such.”
She inhaled sharply and squeezed a response through her tight throat. “But if we did that, people might think we were...courting.”
Corby nodded. “Exactly. If the fellows believed Flynt was interested in you, they would leave you alone, complete their assigned tasks in a timely manner and enable us to meet our deadlines. We’ve been hard-pressed to meet them as it is, so it’s imperative these delays cease immediately.” His firm tone brooked no resistance.
Flynt had been silent. Too silent. She struggled to keep the desperation out of her voice. “What do you think? Surely you have another idea.”
He looked as nonplussed as she felt. “I wish I did.”
So did she. What Corby was asking was preposterous—and totally unfair. And here she’d thought he welcomed her. He had ordered a special drafting board just for her, after all. How wrong she’d been.
Corby opened a desk drawer and withdrew two small pieces of paper, which he handed to Flynt. “These are tickets to the Philharmonic Society’s concert this coming Saturday evening. I look forward to seeing the two of you there—together.”
Flynt stared at the tickets with pursed lips. Clearly he didn’t like this any more than she did.
“Must we do this, sir? I don’t want Flynt forced into being my make-believe beau.” She cringed inwardly at the fanciful term that had slipped out.
“The way I see it, that’s the only option. I can’t have the work disrupted. If you want to retain your position, you’ll accept my terms. If not, I’ll be forced to hire a man instead.”
“But you bought a drafting table especially for me.”
Corby waved a hand dismissively. “That’s no problem. I could exchange it for another model if I needed to.”
What choice did she have? Corby had made it clear that if she didn’t agree, he would replace her.
But if she was to go along with Corby’s plan, she couldn’t enact it alone. She turned toward Flynt and summoned her courage. “I know what I have to gain by agreeing to this...charade, but what reason would you have for doing so?” As a college-educated engineer with years of experience, his position was secure.
“I would get to work with an excellent draftswoman.”
Corby intervened. “Once the situation improves, I could ask the board to add a bonus to his next paycheck. Provided the increased productivity warrants it, of course.”
Jessie stood, and Flynt jumped to his feet. She stiffened her spine and faced him. “Very well. If you’re willing to accompany me to events, I’ll do my part.”
Would the offer of a bonus entice him to agree? Her future at the company hinged on his answer.
* * *
Jessie had actually agreed?
She looked at Flynt, expectancy on her lovely face.
Corby cleared his throat. “What’s your answer, son?”
A decision like this couldn’t be rushed. “I’m not sure.”
Jessie’s eyes, bright before, dulled. She attempted a smile, but it lacked conviction.
He’d known that sense of resignation, felt the sting of unfairness. “If Jessie and I were to enter into such an arrangement, we’d need to know the parameters. For instance, how often would you expect us to be seen together, and how long would this supposed alliance last?”
Corby leaned back in his chair, causing the springs to creak. He clasped his hands, extended his forefingers and tapped them against his chin. “Hmm. I think attending a public gathering of some sort once a week would be adequate. As for the duration, you would need to keep this up long enough for the novelty of having Jessie on the team to fade. Perhaps a month would do. We could revisit the matter then.”
Flynt nodded. “So, one function a week for four weeks? That’s all?”
“You would have to keep up appearances during the week, of course.”
“Of course,” Flynt repeated dully. He turned to Jessie. “Before I can seriously consider Corby’s request, I’d like to talk to you for a moment. Alone.”
“Certainly.” She swept out of the room and waited for him in the hallway.
He closed the door to Corby’s office and wheeled around to face her. “I had no idea what Corby was planning.”
“I gathered that. What are we going to do?”
“I’ll go back in on my own and talk some sense into him, if I can. You can trust me.”
She pressed her lips together, drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. “Perhaps, but since my position is the one dependent on this...arrangement, I’ll accompany you.”
He hadn’t known Jessie long, but her refusal to sit idly by while someone else determined her future didn’t surprise him. He admired her for it. “Fine, but I’d recommend leaving this to me. I know Corby.”
“I will—as long as I agree with your tactics.” The flicker of fear in her eyes countered her show of independence. Jessie was more concerned than she was willing to admit.
The realization made his decision clear. “I’ll do what’s necessary to make the situation work.”
“Good.” Squaring her shoulders, she gave a firm nod. “Then let’s go. I have a position to secure.”
They returned to Corby’s office. Jessie sat, but Flynt remained standing. He was a good six inches taller than Corby, and he intended to use every bit of leverage. “Did you honestly think we’d agree to this ploy? What kind of solution is a mock courtship?”
Corby rose and propped himself on the corner of his desk, his free leg swinging. “An effective and expedient one. If you handle this well, we’ll see a change in short order.”
“Perhaps, but I have no intention of courting a woman.” Especially the attractive one working for him. Jessie was distracting enough as it was.
“You wouldn’t be. Not really. You’d just be enjoying each other’s company.”
Flynt fought to keep his frustration in check. “We’d be intentionally misleading my team. And others.”
“It would only be temporary. Besides—” Corby grinned “—you might enjoy yourself. Jessie’s easy on the eyes. She’s bright, too. You’d be able to talk about all manner of things.”
Before Flynt could come up with a suitable response, Corby shifted his attention to Jessie, who sat wide-eyed and curiously silent. “And you wouldn’t mind being seen on the arm of a handsome young man like Flynt, now, would you, Jessie?”
Her mouth opened and her lips moved, but no sound came out. A becoming shade of pink stained her cheeks. Flynt sent her an apologetic smile, but she appeared to be staring at her hands resting in her lap.
Corby barged ahead, seemingly unaware of Jessie’s embarrassment. “Say the word, son, and I’ll consider the matter resolved. For now.”
Flynt had to do something. He could turn Corby down—and would, if he had his way—but refusing would adversely affect Jessie. Her position depended on his participation in Corby’s ploy. If work slowed because of her, Corby would secure a replacement. A draftsman. Flynt couldn’t let that happen. He wanted her on his team, even though having her there could change things. Would change things.
But he didn’t want to be her suitor, real or otherwise. “If you’ll give me time, I’ll find another solution.” One that didn’t put Jessie in such a difficult position.
“We don’t have time. We’re behind as it is. The directors want to see progress. If we don’t make that happen, you and I will be the ones they take to task.” Corby assumed a wheedling tone. “Would it really be such a hardship to enjoy Jessie’s company?”
Jessie lifted her head. Sadness flitted through her eyes. She quickly schooled her features but said nothing.
Flynt had seen enough. “The whole thing smacks of unfairness. She shouldn’t have to agree to something like this in order to secure her position.”
Corby heaved a sigh. “I didn’t want to be forced to pull rank, but you leave me no choice, son. If you don’t agree, Jessie can pack her things and go.”
“I’ll do it.” Flynt blew out a breath. “But I won’t take any money for it.”
Jessie’s hand flew to her throat, and her lovely lips parted.
“Why not?” Corby eased himself from the desk. “The board is pleased with your work. I’m sure they’d agree to give you a bonus.”
“Because helping her is the right thing to do.”
And because spending additional time with her appealed to him far more than it should.
Chapter Four (#ulink_abd0f555-1370-5c5d-8623-f3a5e1a6d24f)
A rap on the door frame drew Jessie’s attention. She turned from the window seat, where she’d been ever since supper, replaying the scene in Corby’s office. Her snowy-haired landlady, Maybelle Monroe, stood just inside Jessie’s bedchamber. “There’s a gentleman to see you. The handsome fellow’s waiting in the parlor.”
“A man? For me? Did you get his name?”
“I didn’t. I was so taken with his beautiful red hair I forgot to ask.” Maybelle grinned.
Tingles danced up Jessie’s spine. Even though the temperature was still in the high eighties, she shivered. “That would be Flynt. He’s the engineer I work for.”
“And he’s calling on you in the evening?” The boardinghouse owner raised an eyebrow. “Interesting.”
Jessie opened her mouth to protest but stopped herself in time. If she was to convince others Flynt was courting her, she had to act the part. “Interesting, indeed. I wonder if he’s here on business or...”
“Well, don’t dawdle. Get on downstairs and find out.”
Maybelle followed Jessie down the hallway. “Pinch your cheeks on the way down, dear. That’ll add some nice color.”
“I’ll do that.” Jessie smiled. She rejoiced inwardly at having passed her first test. If Maybelle suspected there was more to her relationship with Flynt, surely others would, too.
She entered the parlor moments later, and Flynt shot to his feet. “Good evening, Jessie. We need to talk.”
He’d certainly gotten right to the point. “I agree, but it’s rather warm inside. We could go out back. There’s a porch swing under an oak tree where we’d have shade.” And some privacy. She wouldn’t have to keep up appearances.
“Since it is so hot, I thought we could go to Mr. Sieg’s ice-cream parlor.”
“Oh.” He was taking her out in public? Already?
His brow furrowed. “You do like ice cream, don’t you?”
Ice cream? Yes. His company? Yes and no. She would enjoy looking at him and talking with him. But she wanted no part of feigning attraction for the sake of others. “Of course. Who doesn’t?”
He smiled. “That’s more like it. After you, then.” He swept a hand toward the front door.
The short walk down Coloma Street passed quickly. Too quickly. Before Jessie knew it, she was seated across from Flynt. The buzz of conversations filled the air, along with a tantalizing mix of scents—tangy lemon, spicy ginger, fresh mint and many more. Her mouth watered.
Thankfully their table was in the back of the shop away from the windows and curious passersby. Although Flynt was supposedly courting her, she had no idea what he expected.
She studied the menu board. “Which flavor’s your favorite?”
“I can’t choose just one. Can you?”
“I generally get vanilla.”
He chuckled. “And here I thought you were adventurous. You’re a draftswoman, after all, challenging the likes of engineers and draftsmen everywhere.”
A friendly waiter took their order and returned with their choices in no time. Jessie scooped a hearty bite and savored the rich, creamy dessert.
The bell on the door rang, and Flynt glanced that way. “Speaking of challenging draftsmen, Kurt just entered. He’s spotted us. Pretend I’ve said something witty and laugh.”
The strangled sound she emitted sounded more like a snicker, but what could Flynt expect when he’d taken her by surprise?
“All that got us was raised eyebrows. Could you do something else? Look at me like you’re smitten perhaps?”
Now, that she could do. She’d seen Miss Maggie’s girls cast scores of admiring glances at men during her days at the High Stakes. She sent one Flynt’s way.
His spoon clattered to the table, and his eyes went as round as the tabletop. He leaned forward and spoke softly. His voice held a hint of humor. “You certainly took me at my word. Anyone looking our way would have no doubt you’re attracted to me.”
Mortification sent heat racing to her cheeks. She’d acted in haste, realizing too late that the looks Maggie’s girls gave weren’t the type nice, respectable women copied. Eager to shift the focus from herself, she cast a glance at Kurt, who stood waiting for a table to become available. His mouth hung open. She forced an airy laugh such as she’d intended to produce earlier. “Well, my exuberance did serve a purpose. Kurt might not have suspected anything before, but he does now.”
“Indeed.” Flynt raked a hand through his hair. The unruly lock fell across his forehead. As much as she wanted to brush it back into place, she couldn’t. He had the bearing of a cat ready to pounce. If she were to touch him, he’d likely flinch, gasp or worse.
Kurt ambled over. No. Swaggered was more like it. He wore a smug smile. “Everything makes sense now.”
Flynt dug his spoon into his ice cream, paused and asked the obvious question. “What makes sense?”
“Why Jessie got the job, of course. She turned your head. You created a position so you could offer it to her.”
Jessie inhaled sharply. She longed to set the insufferable fellow straight, but the words lodged in her throat.
Flynt lifted the bite to his mouth, took his time eating it and set his spoon on the table. When he spoke, his words were cold, much colder than the dessert. He enunciated each one. “You’re mistaken. I hadn’t even met Jessie before her interview. Her exceptional work is what got her the position.”
Kurt scoffed. “I might not be as bright as you seem to think she is, but I know what I saw. Well, you can carry on your little tryst, but when Corby hears about it, he’s not going to be happy.”
It took every ounce of restraint she possessed not to laugh. If only Kurt knew... “Why are you out to undermine me? We’re a team.”
“We were a team, and then you showed up. And now you’re fraternizing with Flynt. I should tell Corby. Cross me and I will.”
Flynt rested his fisted hands on the table and responded with a believable show of concern. “I’d rather you didn’t, but if you feel it’s your duty, I understand.”
Jessie played along. “Are you sure you should be encouraging him?”
“I trust Kurt to keep what he’s seen to himself.”
The younger man gave a wry smile. “I’ll keep mum. For the present. Why blab now when the information could better serve me later?” He wheeled around and left the shop without ordering any ice cream.
Flynt shook his head. “That young man has some lessons to learn. Give him time and he will. I was feeling my oats when I was his age. The last six years have taught me a great deal. What about you? Did you have all the answers when you were twenty-one?”
“That’s when I arrived in California, confident but naive. The past three years have been humbling. I bounced from job to job the first two, doing anything from lettering funeral programs to drawing sketches of pipes for a sewer company’s catalog. I didn’t get my first drafting position here in California until Mr. Bishop hired me a year ago.”
“He said you received your training in Chicago. How did that come about?”
She chose her words carefully, lest she divulge too much. “An engineer came through town when I was eighteen. He saw a drawing I’d done and offered me a position in his firm. The first year I swept floors, emptied dustbins and the like. Mr. Fullerton taught me after hours. I spent my free time practicing until I was good enough to do tracings. I did those for a year and a half before I was assigned my first drawing. I had to redo it three times before Mr. Fullerton signed off on it.”
Flynt finished his ice cream and dropped his spoon into his dish with a clink. “Sounds like he was a stickler for details, an admirable trait in our field.”
She savored her last bite and licked the spoon.
He grinned.
“I’m sorry. That wasn’t very ladylike, was it?”
He winked. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
A delicious sense of contentment washed over her, far sweeter than the treat they’d enjoyed. Flynt Kavanaugh wasn’t just handsome, knowledgeable and considerate. He was fun to be with. She could get used to his company. Perhaps this arrangement had its advantages.
The arrangement! How could she have forgotten? He was just playing a part.
She dropped her gaze to her lap and rolled the edge of the red-and-white gingham napkin. The silence stretched until she could stand it no longer.
“So what did you want to talk—”
“I thought we should talk—”
Their words collided. She laughed, a nervous sound quite unlike her. She’d dealt with hordes of men through the years, but Flynt was different. He was a gentleman through and through.
He gave her a reassuring smile. “It seems you’re eager to clarify things, too. Let me start by saying how sorry I am that I couldn’t come up with a better solution than this.”
Her chest tightened, making drawing a breath difficult. He didn’t want to spend time with her outside of work?
No. Of course he didn’t. Why would he? She was his colleague and nothing more. “I know it’s not ideal, but I’m prepared to do my part.” Doubts gnawed at her. “Unless you’ve changed your mind, that is?”
“Not at all. I agreed to Corby’s plan.”
He had. And he’d been quite gallant about it. “Thank you. No one’s ever done anything like this for me.” The admission had slipped out unchecked. Where was her customary self-control? She pressed her lips together to keep any more words from rushing out.
“It’s my pleasure.”
It wasn’t, but it was nice of him to say so. “So, what do we do next?”
“I’ll pick you up at half past seven Saturday evening, and we’ll head to the theater. The Placerville Philharmonic Society does a fine job. As much as you love music, you’re sure to enjoy the concert.”
“How do you know I like music?” She did, very much, but she hadn’t said anything to him.
He toyed with the spoon resting in his dish. “I, um, heard you humming while you work.”
“Oh. I didn’t realize I was. It’s an old habit. I’ll work on breaking it.”
“It’s not a problem. You didn’t disturb me. I like hearing the hymns.”
Flynt recognized them? He must be a churchgoing man. Although he might view it as prying, she had to know. “Do you attend services?”
He sent her another of those warm smiles of his that caused her stomach to flutter. “I do. Across the street from your boardinghouse at the Church of Our Saviour. Will I see you there Sunday?”
“I plan on attending, yes. I’ve heard good things about the reverend and his messages.”
“Mr. Parks is wonderful. I’m sure you’ll like him.”
She tilted her head. “Mr. Parks? He doesn’t use the title?”
Flynt shook his head. “He’s not like other ministers. I would be happy to introduce you to him. That is, if you’ll allow me to escort you. As your beau, it would be expected.”
True. The thought caused her to smile. While she couldn’t allow her feelings to become engaged, she would enjoy Flynt’s company over the next few weeks. As long as she didn’t allow herself to entertain dreams of a future with a kind, thoughtful man like him, she would come through this with her heart intact. Wouldn’t she?
* * *
Where had he put that pin? Without it his cravat wouldn’t stay put.
Flynt rummaged through his bureau drawer, not stopping until he found the elusive pin hiding beneath the stack of freshly laundered handkerchiefs. He opened the jewel box. As was the case every time he did so, memories of his mother rushed in. She might have given him up to be raised by another, but she hadn’t forgotten him. The only money she’d ever sent him had shown up when he turned eighteen. Three years later the pin arrived.
The first had been accompanied by a letter from his mother’s lawyer telling him that she wanted him to use the funds for college. The latter had included a note in her own handwriting, the only one he’d ever received.
He unfolded the slip of paper and read the few words.
My Dearest Son,
Widow Hagerty tells me you’ve earned an engineering degree and that you dream of designing irrigation systems. I couldn’t be more proud of the man you’ve become.
I had my jeweler create this pin especially for you. Whenever you look at it, I hope you’ll remember me fondly.
All my love,
Your Mother
Every time he saw the bold swirls of her handwriting, his chest tightened, just as it had the day Ma Hagerty handed him the unexpected gift. While he wanted to believe what his mother had written, he couldn’t. If a mother truly loved her child, she didn’t give him up.
He secured his cravat with the pin. Stepping in front of the looking glass, he studied his reflection. The man who stared back at him was as well outfitted as any other gentleman. He’d worked hard to gain respectability. No one looking at him would believe him to be anything other than what he seemed—a successful engineer. He’d left his past behind. And now he was about to rub elbows with Placerville’s elite.
A surge of excitement coursed through him. In half an hour he’d be walking into the theater with an incredibly beautiful woman by his side. Although he wasn’t Jessie’s beau, others would think she welcomed his company. They might even imagine she had feelings for him. Not that she did. They were colleagues, nothing more.
But he did enjoy her company. The evening at the ice-cream parlor had been more pleasant than he’d hoped. He recalled the way she’d looked at him when Kurt had headed toward their table and chuckled. Jessie had given him the most coquettish smile ever sent his way. He’d seen plenty of them aimed at the men who’d frequented the saloon where the saucy women his mother employed had entertained when he was a boy, but he’d never expected to see an alluring gaze directed at him. It was a good thing he hadn’t taken a bite just then, or he would have choked on it.
When he’d asked Jessie to feign interest in him, she’d responded with a startling display of boldness. She was a lady to the core—bright, beautiful and cultivated—unlike the saloon girls who’d pinched his cheeks and fawned over him as a boy. Due to her inexperience, Jessie had gotten carried away. Her flaming cheeks afterward proved she realized her mistake.
He would have to make his requests clear in the future and gently educate her in courtship rituals. Not that he had much experience. His education and his work had been his focus.
His cologne caught his eye. He uncorked the bottle and splashed on some of the citrusy scent. Jessie deserved to have him looking and smelling his best.
He reached for his cutaway jacket, shrugged it on and set out. His long strides carried him from the Cary House hotel up Coloma Street to Jessie’s boardinghouse in no time.
Pausing at the wrought iron gate, he glanced at the second-story bay window Jessie had told him was hers, hoping for a glimpse of her, but he could see no one from that angle.
He climbed the steps and rapped on the front door of the stately green house. The motherly owner yanked it open, saw him and smiled broadly.
“Welcome, Mr. Kavanaugh. My, aren’t you looking dapper this evening?”
“Thank you. I’m here for Jessie.”
“Oh, yes. She’s expecting you. I’ll let her know you’re here.”
Mrs. Monroe made it up the stairs with remarkable speed, turned to the right and knocked on a door just out of view. A muffled conversation followed. Flynt heard his name but little else.
The older woman returned, patted his arm and smiled. “She’ll be down shortly. I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time at the concert. Do you know what pieces are being performed?”
He did his best to carry on a conversation with the kindly woman, but keeping his mind on her comments and questions grew more difficult by the moment. After what seemed like an eternity, a door clicked shut above. He focused on the upper landing.
Jessie appeared, and his jaw dropped. He stood rooted to the spot, unable to speak, unable to move, unable to do anything but gaze at the vision of loveliness above him. Her glorious auburn hair was piled on her head in a fancy style. Loose wisps framed her face, drawing his attention to her tentative smile. Her emerald gown, although modest, showcased her womanly figure beautifully.
Mrs. Monroe patted his arm. “I’ll leave you two alone.”
Her comment registered at some level, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Jessie. His gaze locked with hers. The twin pools of glorious green drew him in, deeper and deeper.
All else faded from view. He couldn’t feel the floor beneath him, although it had to be there because it shifted. Clutching the newel cap to steady himself, he drank his fill.
Taking her silk skirts in one hand, she lifted them a couple of inches and began her descent, one slow, careful step at a time. Her captivating eyes never left his. She paused at the landing halfway down and graced him with a smile unlike any she’d ever sent his way. Hesitant but sweeter than honey.
He forced his lips to lift in an answering smile he hoped conveyed encouragement and appreciation.
She continued her journey down the stairs, but she no longer looked into his face. Instead she focused on a spot somewhere below his chin.
The familiar scent of lilacs greeted him as she drew near. He released his grip on the handrail, but that left him with two hands hanging limply at his sides. At a loss as to what to do with them, he clasped them behind his back. It was either that or risk disaster by following his wayward thoughts, which suggested he reach out and brush her rosy cheek with the back of his hand.
Standing on the bottom step, Jessie drew in a deep breath, causing her chest to rise and fall beneath the row of jet-black buttons. She lifted her head. Uncertainty shone in her expressive eyes. He had to say something, but with his throat as dry as Hangtown Creek at the end of the summer, getting words out wasn’t easy.
“You look...” He searched for a word that would adequately describe her, but his mind went blank.
She tilted her head. “Nice?”
“Yes. Nice.”
The instant the lackluster compliment slipped out, he mentally kicked himself. “Nice” was a vast understatement. “Pretty” would have been better. But even that didn’t come close to describing her. He forced his sluggish brain to work.
Beautiful? She was, but he couldn’t say that. Besides, many women could be called beautiful. Jessie was more. She was...gorgeous. Yes! That was it.
“Not just nice. You look go—” He stopped himself just in time. Jessie was his colleague, not his sweetheart. He had no right to shower her with compliments, no matter how much he wanted to do so. “You look good. Very good.”
Her features relaxed. “You look very good yourself.” Her gaze traveled from the toes of his recently polished boots in a steady climb until it rested on his chest. “That’s a beautiful pin. It’s rare to see a pear-shaped sapphire.”
He forced himself to concentrate on what she was saying, which was no easy task. “It was a gift from my mother. She chose that cut because it resembles a drop of water.” That was what Ma Hagerty had told him when she’d passed on the gift.
“And the diamonds around it? Do they represent something, too?”
“Sunlight sparkling on the surface of a lake.”
“I see that. She must be proud of you and all you’ve achieved.”
His thoughts turned to the letter he’d left lying on top of his bureau. “Your parents must be proud of you, as well. Do they know about your new job?”
She shrugged. “They’re both gone.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“How could you? We hardly know each other.”
Her matter-of-fact statement brought reality crashing in on him. “You shouldn’t have to do this. If you’d rather not go to the concert—”
“Not go?” She laughed, a musical sound that eased the tension between his shoulders. “Of course we’ll go. And we’ll make the best of the situation. You might even enjoy yourself. I intend to.”
Her playfulness was contagious. “Even if your escort is a stodgy engineer.”
“I wouldn’t call you stodgy. Serious at times, perhaps, but not stodgy.” She grinned. “In fact, I believe there’s a fun-loving fellow inside you.”
“What makes you think that?”
She focused on the floor and traced the pattern in the runner with the toe of her boot. Her response was so soft he had to lean close to catch it. “You agreed to a game of make-believe for my sake. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to.”
She jerked her head up. “You did? Why?”
“For the same reasons you did, I suppose.”
“Because Corby expected it of us?”
“Yes.” That was true, but only to a point. He hadn’t admitted it before, but he welcomed the opportunity to spend time with her. For the remaining three weeks he could pretend this remarkable woman enjoyed his company as much as he enjoyed hers.
There was no harm in that. Was there?
“Speaking of Corby, we should be going. I’ll say good-night to Maybelle, and we can be off.”
Jessie returned moments later, and they headed down the hill, walking side by side in companionable silence. They reached Main, where a stream of concertgoers dressed in their finest overflowed the plank walkways and spilled into the street.
Eager to keep her from being jostled by the crowd, he held out his arm. She stared at it a moment, wrapped both hands around his elbow and tugged. “Would you come with me, please?”
“What is it?”
“We’re about to make our first major appearance as a couple, and we haven’t formulated a plan. We need to do that.”
Her take-charge manner couldn’t conceal her uneasiness. If following her would put her mind at rest, follow her he would. After all, he didn’t mind having her to himself a little longer.
Chapter Five (#ulink_1f4ac537-ed04-5a9a-8361-6a4779fc8dc8)
Jessie retraced their steps with Flynt right behind her. She turned north on Coloma Street and ducked into a secluded spot.
Flynt inclined his head. “You’ve obviously given this some thought. What do you have in mind?”
“I realized we haven’t addressed the matter of physical contact. Due to the nature of our...relationship, I think it would be wise for us to clarify things.”
She had no experience dealing with a fine gentleman like Flynt—bright, well educated and so handsome in his cutaway coat, snowy white shirt and silk cravat that she had to force herself not to stare. He obviously came from a family of means. His parents loved him and lavished expensive gifts on him.
Her life had been much different. She’d been raised in a run-down farmhouse back East with a father who’d fallen prey to one moneymaking scheme after another. He’d left her all alone and destitute when he died eight years before, giving her no choice but to accept Ace’s offer of a job in his saloon.
She’d already committed a terrible faux pas at the ice-cream parlor, gazing at Flynt the way Maggie’s girls did one of the High Stakes Saloon’s patrons. If she didn’t find out what he expected of her, she was sure to make more. The last thing she needed was for him to suspect her of being the type of woman for whom he held such contempt.
If only she had experience in romantic relationships, but the few gentlemen she’d known were business colleagues. She’d kept things between them strictly professional.
Flynt studied her and nodded. “So that’s why you dragged me here? I thought you were upset about me offering my arm.”
She forced an airy laugh. “Of course not. It was crowded. You were just being a gentleman.”
“Exactly. I would have done the same for any woman in my care.”
His words were a splash of cold water in her face. When he’d seen her at the top of the stairs, he’d looked enraptured. She’d allowed herself to believe he was honestly taken with her, but his reaction had been a performance for Maybelle’s benefit. Nothing more.
“I understand, but I’m not just any woman, am I? I’m the one who is supposedly smitten with you, as you are with me. As such, I’m sure Corby will expect us to act the part in all respects. How do you plan to proceed?”
“I hadn’t really given it any thought. Such things tend to develop naturally.”
That made sense, but she still needed to know how a lady was to behave. Lord, I could use Your help. “While that might be true in most situations, ours is unique. I’d appreciate it if you’d let me know what you intend to do beforehand, so I’m not taken by surprise.”
“Fair enough. Shall we get going now? We don’t want to be late. I will, once again, offer you my arm, as I’ll do in the future whenever the situation warrants.”
“Very well.” She took it without hesitation.
He cast her a sidelong glance and smiled. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Not at all. Flynt was everything she would look for in a man—if her past didn’t prevent her from harboring such dreams. Now that she’d cleared things up, she might as well enjoy the closeness and feeling of belonging—for as long as it lasted.
He guided them safely through the crowd and into the theater, where he handed their tickets to an usher. The young man led them to their seats, which were near the front. Corby must have paid a premium price for them.
She settled into the plush velvet cushions and soaked in the beauty of the elegant surroundings. A quick calculation of the number of seats revealed that fifteen hundred people could enjoy a performance in the impressive building.
The buzz of conversations filled the air. She looked up one row and down the next, admiring the colorful gowns on the ladies. By contrast, the vast majority of men wore black, the same as Flynt. But no man was as suave and debonair as he.
She turned and found him looking right at her with unbridled admiration. Perhaps she’d been wrong and he did find her appealing after all.
He shifted his gaze to the doors. “Look who just came in.”
Corby and the silk-clad, silver-haired woman on his arm followed an usher. The couple was headed their way. Closer and closer they came until...
Jessie whispered to Flynt. “You don’t think they’re going to be right behind us, do you?”
“Looks that way.”
Sure enough, the usher paused at the end of the row and held out a hand. Corby and the elegantly attired woman made their way to the two empty seats.
Once they were settled, Corby leaned forward. “Good evening. It’s nice to see you here. Flynt’s met my charming wife before, but allow me to introduce you two ladies. Jessie, this is Fidelia Corbin, the light of my life.” He gazed at his wife like a smitten schoolboy. The crusty manager had a softer side. That knowledge made him a little less intimidating. “Delia, this is Miss Jessica Sinclair, the newest member of our drafting team.”
The older woman clasped Jessie’s hand and smiled warmly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, my dear. Carter speaks very highly of you. He neglected to tell me what a beautiful young woman you are, though. I adore red hair, and yours is such a lovely shade.”
“Thank you. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”
The conductor stepped from behind the floor-to-ceiling brocade curtains in front of the stage, and a hush came over the room, sparing Jessie the need to carry on a conversation. Her stomach had already been roiling. With Corby seated so close that she could smell the cigar smoke on his jacket, she felt as though a hurricane had hit.
Mrs. Corbin gave Jessie’s hand a squeeze before releasing it. “We’ll talk more later.”
Jessie managed to produce a polite response, complete with a pasted-on smile, before sinking into her seat. For the next hour, she could relax and immerse herself in the music.
The gaslights dimmed, the curtains parted and the conductor stepped onto his platform and raised his baton. With a flick of his wrist, the first piece began, a soothing aria from Bach in which the orchestra accompanied a renowned alto from San Francisco, who sang in German. The selection was known in English as “Contented Peace.”
That was what she needed. The last week had been challenging. In the span of six days, she’d found a new place to live, survived a difficult interview process and acquired a make-believe beau. Flynt was a wonderful man, but figuring out how she was supposed to act around him had her on tenterhooks. She much preferred being in charge of a situation.
Well, she was here in a beautiful theater listening to a stellar performance. Reality would be waiting for her when it was over, but for now she’d forget about everything else and enjoy the respite. She shifted to a more comfortable position, closed her eyes and let the music whisk her away to another place where there were no harried managers, hostile colleagues or handsome engineers.
That number blended into the next in a soul-satisfying feast. Lord. I didn’t realize how I hungered for rest, but You knew and have provided just that. Thank You.
“Are you asleep?”
Flynt’s warm breath on her neck and whispered words startled her. Her eyes flew open. She’d been so far removed from the present that she’d forgotten where she was—and whom she was with. She jerked back, putting space between herself and Flynt.
Someone beside them tittered. Heat rushed to her cheeks, but with the lights dimmed, no one could witness her embarrassment. She’d failed once again to respond as expected.
God, if You could send someone to guide me, I’d be most appreciative.
Flynt moved away, and the tightness in her chest eased. She kept her eyes open throughout the following numbers.
Thunderous applause filled the room at the conclusion of the concerto that completed the first half of the performance. The gaslights flared back to life.
The conductor stepped to the front of the stage, and the curtains closed behind him. He waited until the enthusiastic clapping ceased before speaking. “Ladies and gentlemen, there will be a fifteen-minute intermission. You’ll find a selection of delectable desserts out front provided by Gold Country Confections. Enjoy.”
Flynt patted his stomach. “I’ll have to sample some of those. Would you care to join me?”
“Certainly.” She joined the crowd en route to the lobby. Flynt followed on her heels.
Jessie reached the tables laden with a lavish display of baked goods. The tantalizing scents made her mouth water. She chose an éclair, a snickerdoodle and a lemon bar.
Flynt glanced at her plate and chuckled. “That’s quite an assortment—sweet, spicy and tart. I wouldn’t have expected a woman who prefers plain vanilla ice cream to be so adventurous.”
She produced an impish smile. “I’m full of surprises, Mr. Kavanaugh.”
He laughed. “That you are, Miss Sinclair.”
“Jessie? It is you. I wasn’t sure.”
She spun around to find a round-faced woman smiling at her. “Becky! It’s wonderful to see you.” Remembering her manners, she hurried to make the introductions. “Flynt, this is my dear friend Becky Martin. When her minister’s wife back in Chicago learned that Becky was also bound for Placerville back in ’71, she introduced us, and we traveled together, along with one other lady. The three of us became fast friends on that trip. I haven’t seen either of them since because I left town soon after we arrived. Becky, this is Flynt Kavanaugh. He’s the engineer at the El Dorado Water and Deep Gravel Mining Company. I work for him now.”
Becky and Flynt greeted each other.
He took two steps backward. “I’m sure you two ladies would like some time to catch up, so I’ll leave you to it.”
Before Flynt could make his exit, a throat cleared behind Jessie. She turned and found herself facing Corby, who looked none too pleased. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Jessie, but I’d like a word with you and Flynt. Now.”
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Keli Gwyn
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: The Courtship CharadeA draftswoman in a man’s world, Jessica Sinclair’s presence causes a stir as her new male colleagues vie for her attention. And the company manager has an ultimatum: fake a courtship with her boss, Flynt Kavanaugh…or lose her job. But pretending to be smitten with the handsome engineer unleashes a real, complicated attraction—and could reveal the past she hoped to keep hidden.Jessica is certainly the best person for the job. But as their make-believe romance escalates, Flynt knows that’s not the only reason he wants her on his team. However, with his past shrouded by a shameful secret, Flynt has always focused his ambitions on building a career, not a family. Now he has designs on Jessica’s heart, but can they trust each other with the truth?