The Danforths: Reid, Kimberly and Jake: The Cinderella Scandal / Man Beneath the Uniform / Sin City Wedding

‘‘So tell me.’’ Mariska sat in the chair beside Reid. ‘‘Will your wife be helping you with the campaign?’’

Oh, for heaven’s sake. Tina turned to slice the strudel. Her mother couldn’t have been less subtle if she’d pulled out a calendar and asked him what day he was available to plan a small wedding for four or five hundred.

‘‘I don’t have a wife,’’ Reid said. ‘‘But I’m certainly looking for volunteers.’’

Tina’s head shot up. Every female in the room drew in a breath.

But before Mariska—or any of the other women in the room—could offer their services, Reid said, ‘‘To help with the campaign, of course.’’

Disappointment rippled through the bakery.

‘‘Ah.’’ Mariska’s shoulders sagged, then straightened again as she smiled brightly. ‘‘My daughters will help,’’ she said with enthusiasm. ‘‘We are all big supporters, you know.’’

What! Since when were they supporters of any political campaign? Tina stared at her mother in horror.

‘‘That’s very generous of you, Mrs. Alexander.’’ Reid slid a glance at Tina. ‘‘But maybe you should ask your daughters how they feel about that.’’

‘‘Sophia and Rachel will be happy to volunteer,’’ Mariska said, waving a don’t-be-silly hand at him. Then she added as an afterthought, ‘‘And my Tina, of course.’’

Tina clenched her jaw at the murmurs and nods from the customers who weren’t even pretending not to listen. It wasn’t bad enough she’d lost out on her restaurant to Reid and his family, now she was supposed to help them? She had to stop her mother before this got out of hand. Snatching up the plate of strudel and the cup of coffee Jason had poured, Tina hurried over to the table.

‘‘Mom,’’ she said as sweetly as she could muster. ‘‘I’m sure Mr. Danforth is looking for volunteers with some political knowledge.’’

‘‘Not at all.’’ Leaning back in his chair, Reid glanced up at her. ‘‘We’re having a volunteer welcome gathering tomorrow night at seven-thirty. Why don’t you and your sisters come by?’’

Tina opened her mouth to say she was busy, but her mother was much too fast.

‘‘They will be there. We will all be there,’’ Mariska said firmly. ‘‘I will bring cookies and rugala.’’

When Mariska rose, Reid stood, as well, smiling as he extended his hand. ‘‘Thank you, Mrs. Alexander. You are an extremely generous woman.’’

When Reid smiled, Mariska’s cheeks bloomed red and she giggled. Tina’s jaw went slack. Her mother never blushed, and she most certainly did not giggle. Disgusted, Tina watched her mother hurry back into the kitchen.

Did all the Danforth men have the ability to make women act and feel stupid? she wondered, glancing back at Reid. If they did, Tina could only hope that one day some brilliant female scientist would be able to isolate that gene and come up with a vaccination.

She’d be first in line.

‘‘Your strudel,’’ she said tightly, sliding the plate onto the table and setting the coffee beside it.

‘‘Thanks.’’

‘‘Don’t mention it.’’

When she turned, he surprised her by reaching for her arm. Darn it. There it was again. That jolt of electricity. She looked at him, prayed he couldn’t feel it, too. Prayed that he couldn’t see the effect he had on her. With so many people watching, it would really be embarrassing if she swooned.

‘‘Here.’’ He took her hand and laid a key in her palm. ‘‘I had a copy made.’’

To anyone watching it was a completely innocent exchange. To Tina it felt personal. The touch of his fingertips on her skin, the press of the key in her palm. The almost imperceptible lingering of his hand against her own.

She closed her fingers tightly around the key and pulled her hand away. ‘‘Thanks.’’

‘‘Till tomorrow, then,’’ he said with a nod.

‘‘Right. Tomorrow.’’ When she turned and walked away, she could have sworn she heard him chuckle.

She hoped he choked on the strudel.

Lying on his back under the desk, Reid struggled to wiggle the printer cable into the back of the computer. If he’d had another inch of cable, along with another inch of space to reach into, he would have been done ten minutes ago.

But that would have been easy, he thought irritably. And after the morning he’d had, why should he expect his afternoon to be any better?

He’d scraped his knuckles changing a flat tire, dropped a cup of coffee on the press release he’d told Nicola he’d fax to the Savannah Morning News, misplaced the sign-in book for the orientation tonight and just five minutes ago, reaching blindly into the back of the desk, drove a splinter the size of a screwdriver under his thumbnail.

It still hurt like hell, dammit.

But what really aggravated him the most, what really set his teeth on edge, was the slender, curvy, sassy-mouthed woman he couldn’t get out of his mind.

What was it about Tina Alexander that had him tied up in knots? he wondered. With her velvet, amber-brown eyes, heart-shaped face and turned-up nose she was pretty, but not necessarily what most men would consider beautiful. She was average height, a little thin for his taste and icy as an Arctic breeze.

Damn if he didn’t want to get his hands on her.

It was as if she’d gone out of her way to alienate him, and perhaps that was what intrigued him the most. But he wasn’t stupid, and he certainly wasn’t blind. He’d seen the way she’d reacted every time he’d touched her. He’d felt her shiver, watched her eyes widen. Something told him that under that cool exterior was heat and plenty of it.

Damn if he didn’t want to taste that heat.

When the cable slipped from his fingers for the tenth time in fifteen minutes, he swore like a truck driver in a skid, then narrowed his eyes and threaded the cable through the hole in the wall of the desk again. He’d be damned if he’d let a stubborn printer cable—or woman—make him lose control.

When the cable plug finally dropped over the inlet, Reid smiled, grabbed his bottom lip between his teeth while he wiggled the cable into place…

‘‘Hello?’’

At the sound of the feminine greeting, Reid sat up sharply and slammed the top of his head on the underside of the desk. He wasn’t certain if the crack he heard was wood or his skull.

Dammit, dammit, dammit…

Through the stars swimming in his blurred vision, Reid watched a pair of shapely legs appear from around the corner of the desk.

‘‘Sorry if I startled you.’’ Tina peered down at him. ‘‘You okay?’’

Grunting, he pulled himself from under the desk, winced at the rocket of pain that shot through his brain when he sat. ‘‘Sure. I slam my head into desks every day just for fun.’’

His sarcasm earned him a smile. She dropped down on her knees and leaned close. ‘‘Here, let me look.’’

‘‘I’m fine.’’ When she reached out and took his head in her hands, his heart slammed against his ribs.

‘‘I don’t see any blood,’’ she said, gently sliding her fingers through his hair.

That’s because it’s all dropped to the lower half of my body, Reid wanted to say, but wasn’t willing to risk her letting go of him just yet.