Her Military Man. Laura Altom Marie
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job because he refused to help, then what else could she do? Since office space at the station was limited, she did most of her preshow prep work at home, but instead of dreaming up new show ideas come Monday morning, it looked as if she’d be looking for a new job instead.
“FANCY MEETING YOU HERE,” Constance’s worst nightmare said bright and early Monday morning.
She looked up from Pearlman’s Office Supply store’s back table, the one beside the two copy machines where customers laid out their projects. At the moment, her only project was a nearly complete job application. “Are you following me?”
He snorted. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just here picking up flyers for my school presentation. What’re you doing?”
She hastily covered her application. “Work for the show.”
“Top secret, huh?” The smile he shot her was so crazy handsome and brimming with white teeth, her stomach lurched. The years he’d been gone, she’d told herself no man could be as steal-your-breath gorgeous as her memories had built him up to be, but she’d been wrong. In reality, he was far better than anything she could’ve imagined. He wore cargo-style pants again, but this time sand-toned, with a matching T-shirt that fit his muscular chest like a second skin.
“Not secret,” she said, “I just don’t like discussing show material before it’s fully developed.”
“Sure,” he said with a nod and dead-sexy wink. “Might give rogue callers like me a shot at taking your hoity-toity butt down a notch right off the bat, huh?”
Despite herself, she grinned. “I might’ve phrased it more eloquently, but yes, that’s the general idea.”
“I can respect that. Well, hey,” he said, gesturing toward the checkout counter. “I’ve got everything I need. Catch you later.”
“Constance, hon…” Evelyn Pearlman, the store owner, bustled out of the storage area with a case of individual plastic-wrapped boxes of paper clips. “I hope you haven’t gotten too far on that application because I just got off the phone with my sister, Marty, and she said her grandson, Lyle, could really use the job. I hope you don’t mind, you know, seeing how you’ve been here at least thirty minutes working so hard on filling it out.”
“No,” Constance said, lying through her teeth while swallowing the knot at the back of her throat. “I don’t mind at all. Lyle’s a good kid. I’m sure he’ll make a great asset to your team.”
“You’re a dear for being so understanding.” Evelyn crushed her in a quick hug. “And you know, now that I think about it, I heard at the Chamber of Commerce breakfast that they’re hiring down at the IGA, but it sure will be a shame not getting to hear your show. I can’t imagine what Felix must be thinking.”
“Yes, well, you know how it goes,” Constance said, forcing a brave smile, daring Garret to say a word about her blatant lie as to what she’d been doing in the store.
“Well, good luck to you, dear. Hope everything works out okay. And you,” she said to Garret, “come right this way and I’ll add up all your things.”
While the middle-aged woman bustled on ahead, Constance was less than thrilled when Garret lagged behind while she gathered up her purse, résumé, pens and Liquid Paper. She was nothing if not always prepared.
“Why’d you tell me you were in here working on your show?” Garret asked.
“Does it matter?”
“Your boss isn’t really going to fire you, is he? From what I understand, your listeners love you.”
“If he weren’t, do you honestly think I’d’ve come running to you for help? Or that I’d spend my morning filling out job applications?”
“Garret, hon!” Evelyn sang out. “Your order’s all ready!”
“Look, Connie,” he said under his breath, “maybe we should—”
“I’ve got to go,” she said, not taking the chance of meeting his gaze for fear of bursting into tears. “You heard Evelyn, IGA’s hiring.”
GARRET KNEW he shouldn’t be lurking in the canned goods aisle, waiting for Constance to bolt from the IGA breakroom where she was filling out her latest application, but for some strange reason, he couldn’t help himself.
He was still furious with her and Nathan, but he wanted to get a few straight answers from her about a lot of things before never seeing her again. But that was it, right?
Surely it had nothing to do with her looking so hot in her prim and proper black interview dress? Or that uptight knot she’d made of her hair that ignited all sorts of ideas about how fun it would be taking it down, seeing it streaming over her—
“Garret?” she asked, pretty lips puckered as she rounded the corner of an end cap piled with watermelon. Hands on her hips, she said, “Now, I know you’re following me.”
“Guilty,” he said, “but I wanted to know how it went.”
“Why?” she asked, chin up, marching right past him toward the store’s front. “So you could further rub it in that I’m teetering on the brink of unemployment?”
Why? Good question. He shouldn’t care if she lost her old job or found a new one. He shouldn’t care, but he did. No doubt because he wanted her head in a good place when he finally sat her down to demand an explanation for the past.
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