Wise Moves. Mary Burton
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she said easily. She’d used this made-up boyfriend before.
“Mark,” he said, testing the name. “What’s he do?”
“He’s a fireman.” The trick was to keep the lies simple so that the details didn’t trip her up later. “Are you ready to get back to work?” In truth, she hated the idea of dragging more of that white board outside. Her shoulders ached, as did her lower back. But the work was preferable to the questions.
Cambia stared at her over the mug’s rim as he drained the last of the water. He set the mug down in the sink next to hers. Then he seemed to change his mind, picked up the mug again and refilled it with water. “Let’s call it a night. We’ve gotten a lot done today.”
“Sure.” She couldn’t wait to crawl into a hot shower and let the warm water rush over her skin.
“Mind if I hold on to this mug?” He held it by the handle. “I’m some kind of thirsty. I’ll bring it back in the morning.”
“That’s fine,” she said.
“Sure.” He allowed her to lead and he followed her down the narrow hallway to the reception area. He stayed a few feet behind her but his presence surrounded her. She was aware of each deliberate step, the thud of his boots and his earthy masculine scent. He had the aura of a hunter.
Dane Cambia might be a carpenter now, but he hadn’t always been one.
He shoved his callused hands into his worn gloves. “So where are you and…what’s his name?”
She didn’t hesitate. “Mark.”
“Right. Where are you going this evening?”
“I don’t know. Dinner or a movie. We might stay in.”
“You don’t look like the type that would date a fireman.”
“What do you mean?”
“You look like you’d hook up with a lawyer or a doctor. Some guy with enough scratch to take care of you right.”
Carlos had been a doctor. “You make me sound shallow.”
He shook his head. “Not at all. I just know quality, even when it’s hauling out the trash.”
Again, it struck her that he was playing some cat-and-mouse game with her. “Do you have something you want to say to me, Mr. Cambia? I don’t appreciate your observations.”
He shrugged as he moved to the front door, and paused. “I was just making conversation.”
Kristen noted the powerful muscles under the old T-shirt. “You haven’t always been a carpenter.”
“No, I sure have not.”
“What brought you here?”
He flashed a grin. “There’s lots of construction in the northern Virginia area. It’s a good place to earn a living.”
The area was booming. Washington, D.C. residents were building weekend country homes to escape the rat race. “What did you do before you became a carpenter?”
He studied her. “I was in the army. Headed up a recon unit in the Middle East.” He laughed. “But I wasn’t good at it. Kept getting lost and I never was much good at taking orders. I’m good with my hands so figured I’d try carpentry.”
Outside, a car door slammed. Kristen started. On reflex she looked out the side window at the house next door. It was the neighbor—Mrs. McKenzie.
“That your boyfriend?” he said.
“No.”
“Right, he comes at five.”
She changed the subject. “We made great progress today.”
“Sure did.”
An odd silence settled between them and she thought he’d offer her the money he owed her for today’s work. However, he didn’t. There’d been a time when she’d not have given it a second thought. Forty-five dollars was a small fortune now. “About my money…”
“Right.” He carefully set the mug on the receptionist desk and then counted out the money and handed it to her. Their fingers brushed and her body tensed.
She quickly counted it again and shoved it in her pocket. “Thanks.”
He picked up the mug by the handle. “So, I’ll see you first thing in the morning.”
“What time?”
“Seven too early? If we can get in a full day, then I’ve got a chance of finishing this job up a couple of days early.”
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