In Good Company. Teresa Southwick
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“The boards are cut to the right length, then I’m going to put them together with nails,” Des was saying.
“Can I watch?” Trey asked.
“Sure.”
“He said I could watch,” Trey told her excitedly.
“I heard.” Molly reined in her irritation. She needed a word—or twenty—with this man. Preferably when no children were present and she could freely speak her mind.
“Can I help?” the boy eagerly asked.
“I don’t see why not.” Des smiled at the child.
“Trey, it’s time to wash your hands. Then line up with the others.” Molly touched his shoulder and turned him, gently nudging him in the direction of the sinks. He reluctantly went, glancing over his shoulder several times. When the boy was on task, she looked at Des. “May I speak to you in the time-out room?”
He straightened to his full six-foot-plus height. His eyebrows, a shade darker than his hair, rose along with the corners of his mouth. Something amused him. No doubt her. It seemed she was destined to be his comic relief.
“This sounds serious. Am I in trouble?”
Only if breaking hearts was a hanging offense. Hers had been a casualty. But she wouldn’t stand by and see him play fast and loose with a child’s emotions.
“Let’s not disrupt the children further. We can discuss it in there.” She indicated the small storage area off her classroom with windows that gave her a view of her charges. When they entered the room, she turned quickly, colliding with the man who followed her. He was all lean muscle, wiry strength and warm male flesh. It was like walking into a brick wall, and just as hard on her system.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, quickly stepping back.
“Why? You didn’t call me stupid.” So he’d heard her with the children. Apparently the man could multi-task. He pointed at the glass and said, “Is this like the two-way mirrors the police use? We can see them, but they can’t see us?”
“No, actually. They can see us.”
He rested his hands on narrow hips. What was it about a man in jeans that spelled danger for female hearts? Before going any further with that thought, she stopped herself. She was angry with him, which should leave no room for thoughts like that.
“Wait here. The other kids are coming inside and I need to have my aide hold down the fort for a few minutes.”
Des watched through the glass as Molly Preston walked across her classroom to talk to a tall, jean-clad woman with a whistle around her neck. He frowned, wondering what Miss Molly’s problem was. He hoped she wasn’t the type who got her panties in a twist over the small stuff.
And speaking of panties, he had a feeling Miss Molly filled hers out in the nicest possible way. She was quite a package. It was the first thing he’d noticed when he walked into her classroom. She was petite, pretty and pleasingly proportioned in all the right places. Then there were the thick auburn curls teasing her shoulders. He had the most absurd urge to run his fingers through her hair to see if it was as silky and soft as it looked. And familiar. Why was that?
Actually, their paths had probably crossed. He’d grown up in this town but couldn’t wait to leave. His father’s death had brought him back to salvage the company his grandfather had started. Des had pumped a lot of his own money into the failing construction business, so he had a lot riding on the success of the preschool project. The profit margin was real narrow, but profit wasn’t his goal. This was simply a stepping stone to the real prize—a contract with Richmond Homes for the new development south of Charity City.
He was in negotiations right now with Carter Richmond who’d said in no uncertain terms he’d be watching Des’s work. In a town the size of Charity City, one black mark on a man’s reputation could be his loss and a competitor’s gain. Des knew that if he was to keep his business afloat, losing contracts wasn’t an option. He needed to build the wing of classrooms on time, within budget, and it had to be the best work he’d ever done. Besides that, a good businessman never underestimated the value of word of mouth in a town the size of Charity City. For all of the above, he needed Miss Molly’s cooperation.
When she walked back into the interrogation room, he said, “So, what did you want to talk to me about?”
“So many things, so little time.” Her gaze narrowed.
This was not exactly the most convenient moment to notice what interesting things irritation did to her green eyes.
“What’s on your mind?” he prompted. If this was going to go smoothly, they needed to get all their cards on the table.
“For starters, I have a problem with you promising Trey that he could help you.”
Des shrugged. “He seemed interested. A boy can’t start too young. My grandfather started teaching me to work with wood when I was about Trey’s age.”
“Let’s forget the liability issue for now. Let’s go straight to the part where Trey comes from a single-parent home—his mother being the only parent there. His dad is out of the picture.”
Des wondered how that was a bad thing. If he had a nickel for every time he’d wished he didn’t have a father, money would never have been an issue. “Lack of male influence is all the more reason to let him help me.”
Molly’s frown deepened. “So you pay attention to a lonely little boy. What happens to him when you walk out of his life? And you will.”
Where did she get off judging him? They’d just met. He stared down at her. “Even if that’s true, and you can’t know it is, isn’t some positive male influence even for a short time better than none at all?”
Her full mouth tightened for a moment. “From personal experience, I’d have to say no.”
“Oo-kay.” He blew out a long breath.
Now what? The school director had made it clear that because her classroom was involved in the renovation, he had to coordinate schedules with this teacher. First, he had to find out what was bugging her, then figure out how to fix it.
“Look, Molly, like you said, I’ve come at a bad time. Maybe it would be best to discuss this when you’re not so busy with kids.”
“You’re right. This isn’t a good time.”
Stubborn as a mule. But it looked good on her, in spite of her attitude from hell. It made him want to lean over and touch his mouth to hers—to shock the stubborn right out of her.
“Okay. Not a good time. We finally agree on something.” He rubbed his hands together. “How about this? I’ll take you out for dinner and we can—”
She held up her hand. “No way.”
He wanted to ask why not, but decided not to go there. Compromise and negotiation. “Then how about a drink after work?”
“I don’t think so. Any discussion would be best conducted here on school grounds.”
He recognized a shutdown when he saw it, and he would admit to some ego. Women had always paid attention to him, which had made for a bitter lesson when he’d learned that attention and respect for who he really was were two very different things. It was a mistake he wouldn’t repeat. But that was personal. This was business; he was good at business. He knew when someone was giving him the business. The question was…why? Molly Preston was a puzzle he couldn’t wrap his mind around. But she was about to learn he’d invented the word stubborn.
He nodded. “When would be a good time to talk?”
Her look said when the devil ice-skated in hell, but she answered, “The children are all supposed to be picked up by six o’clock.”
“Then I’ll see you at six sharp.”
She