Mixing Business...With Baby

Catrina dropped to her knees and frantically scooped up as many as she could find.

By the time she slapped a handful of coins on the counter along with her last dollar bill, flyaway strands of hair stuck to her moist cheek, there was a hole the size of Wyoming in the knee of her panty hose, and she was pretty sure that her deodorant had failed.

It was barely 7:30 a.m.

She shouldered her purse, snatched her covered cup of coffee, then muscled her way through the surging crowd desperately hoping that everything that could go wrong already had. Then she collided with a well-formed chest wrapped in a casual knit shirt sporting the suspiciously familiar scent of soap and cedar.

“Well, fancy meeting you here.” Rick Blaine widened his eyes as if stunned by the coincidence. “Ms. Horton? Catherine, right?”

She managed a tight smile, spoke through her teeth. “Jordan, Catrina Jordan.”

“Of course. I remember now.” He flashed a grin, pushed the glass door open and held it for her.

She grunted her thanks and brushed by him, striding quickly up the sidewalk toward the office. She wasn’t surprised when he fell into step beside her.

“I see we both have excellent taste in coffee.” He angled a speculative glance at the capped cup in her hand. “Latte, skim?”

“House blend, black.”

“Ah, that explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“Your rather high-strung and spirited disposition.”

She swivelled to stare at him, stumbling on an uneven patch of concrete. “I beg your pardon?”

He was sipping his coffee through a small hole in the cap, and allowed himself to complete the process before favoring her with a glance. “No insult intended, of course. Anyone who starts the day with enough caffeine to jump-start a semi is bound to be a bit jittery, that’s all.”

“I am not jittery.”

“You haven’t drunk your coffee yet.”

“Coffee or no coffee, I am not a jittery person.” The nerve of this man, a virtual stranger presuming to cast comments upon her personality. “It’s ridiculous for you to make such a categorical statement about a person you don’t even know.”

“You’re quite right, it is. The only way for me to make reparations for my boorish presumption is to rectify that situation. How about dinner tonight?”

Only then did she note the sly gleam in his eye and realize that she’d leaped right into the trap. “No, thank you.”

“Tomorrow night?”

“No. Thank you.”

“Ever?”

“Probably not.”

“Ah, probably leaves the door open.”

“No, it doesn’t.” She reminded herself that this man had the power to take her job away, a job that she desperately needed to care for her baby daughter. “Please, don’t take it personally. I’m not in the market for a romantic relationship, or any relationship for that matter.”

“Not even a friendship?”

“In my experience, friendship is nothing more than the masculine code word for sex without commitment.”

He choked on his coffee, coughed until his eyes watered. When he could speak without wheezing, he stared at her in genuine astonishment. “Don’t hold back, tell me what you think.”

She couldn’t bite back a smile this time. He really was a charming fellow and definitely an attractive one. Under other circumstances, she would have been flattered by his attention and might even have responded favorably to it. “I apologize if I’ve insulted you. I do have an unfortunate tendency to speak my mind a bit too candidly at times.”

“No, no, I appreciate candor.” He frowned, shot her a glance. “That’s a lie. I hate candor.”

“Most men do.”

“Most women do, too. For example, would you appreciate being told that the hole in your nylons makes you look like you have a fist-sized wart on your knee?” He grinned when she jerked to a stop and stared at him. “I didn’t think so.”

Her astonishment melted into amusement. She chuckled. “Touchе, Mr. Blaine.”

“Rick.”

“Touchе, Rick.”

They had reached the offices of Blaine Architectural. He politely opened the door for her. “So now that we know each other well enough for brutal honesty, will you go out with me?”

“No,” she said pleasantly. “But I will regret it more than I would have ten minutes ago.”

“It’s because of my eyebrows, isn’t it?”

“Your what?”

“My eyebrows. I know they’re ugly. They tweak in the middle, sag at the side, and I’ve been told they make me look like a stunned Chihuahua. I’ll bet you hate dogs.”

“I love dogs.”

“Then why won’t you go out with me?”

Exasperated, she stepped into the elevator, whirled around and pressed a palm in the center of his chest to keep him from following. “Because you are rich, arrogant and pushy. Does that about cover it?”

He blinked. “Yes, I believe it does.”

The midday sun was warm, the autumn air cool, and the shady park was bustling with activity. From his vantage point behind a sprawling cedar, Rick watched the svelte blonde completing her warm-up exercises beside a glossy, forest-green bench. She rolled her arms, flexing her shoulders beneath a sweatsuit worn thin at the elbows, and patched at the knees. Her shoes were old too, scuffed and scarred from repeated use.

It didn’t matter. She could have been wrapped in stenciled burlap, and Rick still would have thought her the most appealing woman on Earth.

He didn’t know why.

Fascinated, he continued to stare as she stretched her calf muscles, dipping down until her forehead brushed her knee. Every movement was fluid and graceful, the epitome of vibrant health and lithe femininity.

His greedy gaze absorbed every nuance, every twist of her waist, every bend of her knee until she shook her body as if it were a limp rag. As soon as he realized she was preparing to sprint away, he emerged from behind the tree, planting himself directly in her view.