Staying at Joe's. Kathy Altman
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out his backside only to make certain he wasn’t limping. “What’s her name?”
“I haven’t decided yet. Not on anything G-rated, anyway.”
He plopped her into the tray under the counter and straightened. Allison didn’t miss his wince but chose to ignore it. The last thing she needed was for him to think she actually cared.
Grow up, Allie. “Sure you’re okay?”
He nodded, one eyebrow raised. Damn him. “Something to drink?”
“No. Thanks.” She crossed her arms, watching as he sauntered into the kitchen and opened the fridge. “You’re not surprised to see me.”
“I talked to Tackett.”
“Of course you did. You are so not my favorite person right now.”
“Feeling manipulated, are you?”
“Touché.” She tapped her fingers against her upper arm. “So. We’re stuck with each other.”
“Looks that way.” He watched her. Waiting for her to beg him to reconsider, no doubt. He’d be waiting a good long time.
“I didn’t come prepared to stay, let alone work,” she said.
“I can see that.” He looked askance at her outfit. “You ever handle a hammer?” She opened her mouth and he added, “Successfully?” She closed her mouth. He grunted and paused before speaking again. “Ever think about working somewhere besides the agency?”
“You mean because Tackett’s a sexist ass?” She shook her head. “I’ve invested a lot of years at T&P. It’s time I started seeing some dividends. And by the way, I can learn to use a hammer.” She hesitated. “Are you going to make me use a hammer?”
He took another swallow of water and set the bottle on the counter. “Be right back.” When he reappeared he held up a pair of white coveralls that looked roomy enough to hold them both. Allison’s thoughts fled from that unwelcome but cozy image when he tossed the coveralls in her direction. “For you.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“You’ll need work boots, too. I suggest you make a run to the hardware store.”
“Boots. From the hardware store.”
“You’d be surprised. Get something sturdy. No hot pink rubber raingear.” He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. “Pick this stuff up for me, too, would you? Put it on my tab. When you get back I’ll give you a tour. And for the record, from now on we start at seven.”
“I’m assuming you have a separate room for me. One with clean sheets and a working toilet.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then you get to bunk with the cat.”
“The cat sleeps with me.”
“Huh. Now if I were the type to make tasteless jokes—”
He held up a hand. “You’ll get your own room.” In four steps he was across the lobby and at the door. He pushed it open. “Hardware store’s on State Street. You can’t miss it.”
When she made to walk past him he stopped her with a hand on her arm. His nearness, his scent, the warmth of his fingers and their movement over the silk of her blouse made her shiver. Damn it. She pushed fear into her eyes but the awareness in his told her he wasn’t buying it.
Don’t look at his mouth, don’t look at his mouth, don’t look—
Her gaze lowered. His lips formed a smug curve, and for one desperate, self-hating moment she considered running. But she’d be running from the only solution to her problems.
“If I’m going to delay renovations for a month,” he said, “just to hold the hand of a man convinced there’s a market for PowerBars for pets, then I get two full weeks of labor from you. No complaints, no backtracking, no games. Agreed?”
She shrugged free of his touch. “It’s cleaning products that Mahoney’s into this time. And you and I both know it’s all one big game to you. Always has been. But don’t worry, I’ll do my part. Your part is to keep your hands to yourself.”
“You might change your mind about that. You might discover power tools turn you on.”
Oh, for God’s sake. “You start putting your hands where they don’t belong and I’ll start swinging my hammer. And my aim—” her gaze dropped suggestively “—might leave a lot to be desired.”
“There’s nothing wrong with your aim, slick. The problem has always been your choice of target.”
* * *
ALLISON ZIPPED UP the front of her “uniform” and let loose a laugh that came out sounding disturbingly frantic. What in God’s name had she gotten herself into? The only paint she’d ever applied had been to her fingernails. And any experience with hand tools had almost always ended in bloodshed and bandages.
She grimaced at her pale-faced image in the mirror and thought back to Joe’s earlier comment. By describing himself as a target he’d made it sound like she’d plotted against him a year ago. He didn’t understand she’d been trying to save the company’s reputation. And Joe’s along with it.
You always did put T&P first.
No. She’d done what she had to do. He didn’t remember it right. How could he, considering he’d been in a constant state of drunk at the time?
She bit her lip, turned her back on her reflection and regarded the piles of clothes on the bed. At least she’d found an honest-to-goodness mall, instead of having to do her shopping at a hardware store. When she’d arrived in Castle Creek the day before she’d planned on staying no more than an hour or two. Thank God for company credit cards.
Someone pounded on her door and she jumped.
“Move it, Kincaid. We have work to do.”
This could not be the same guy who’d cuddled a kitten two minutes after the thing had nearly made him break his neck. She’d picked up and already delivered his stupid PVC piping. What more could he want?
But of course, she knew. He wanted to teach her a lesson. She’d invaded his territory. Tried to make him feel guilty. The last place an ad-man wanted to be was on the receiving end of a sales pitch.
She closed her eyes and pulled in a slow breath. Pictured herself sitting behind that Account Executive nameplate, handing a bewildered and infuriated Sammy a stack of cash, wandering around an elegant apartment double the size of the place she lived in now.
Walking her mother into rehab. Again.
More pounding. She squeezed her eyes tighter and pictured a line of fire ants marching toward a trussed up Joe.
“Don’t make me come in there.”
She stalked to the door and yanked it open, bracing herself for a litany of smart-ass comments. Joe looked down at her clunky, sand-colored boots, and with the toe of his own boot nudged the nearest one.
“Show me.”
She hiked her pants leg and he nodded.
“This way.”
She followed him down the sidewalk, admiring the snug fit of his jeans despite herself. He stopped three doors down, in front of #5, and she raised her gaze just in time. Or maybe not, because he shot her an amused look as he searched his pockets for the keycard.
“How’s your room?” he asked idly.
“Fine.” Allison adjusted the clip in her hair and thought back to the soft lemon walls, the cozy tiled bathroom and the down comforter on the bed. She lowered her arms and sighed. “That’s not true, actually.”
She almost missed it—the subtle tightening of his fingers