Chapter Ten

Greg poured coffee into his mug and looked at the clock for the third time in ten minutes. Ginger should have made it into the office by now. She was always a few minutes early. She could be caught up in heavy traffic, though, due to the rain that had started up again overnight.

She was one of the best assistants Tucker Construction had ever had, and he was not going to do anything that would make her feel insecure about her job. He wasn’t going to let her know he was bitterly disappointed to find out she carried the same female gene of game playing and cunning pretext that nestled deep in every other woman he’d known. Instead of giving in to this feeling of betrayal, he should be thanking his lucky stars her true character was revealed before he deluded himself any further that she was different.

So he would squash the growing attraction for her down under the heel of his boot. She would never know he’d hoped their friendship would grow stronger. Then neither of them would feel uncomfortable working together. His life could get back to normal. The way it was before Ginger Carmichael had tiptoed into his yard asking for a contractor.

The front door opened. He stalled for a few minutes, sipping his coffee and counting to a hundred. He then squared his shoulders, picked up his notebook from the table, and exited the break room. When he neared the front area, he called out a greeting.

She was standing beside her desk with her hands behind her back. She looked so cute—and sexy—that for a split moment he had second thoughts about his decision to cut off all relations with her. She wore a red short-sleeved blouse and black Capri pants, revealing muscular calves and dainty ankles. Her small feet were encased in black high-heeled sandals, and her hair was pulled back into a ponytail with a red ribbon. How was she able to pull off such a contrasting look of sweet innocence and patent sexuality?

“Good morning.” Her smile was respectful, her eyes were clear and bright, and her expression was attentive. It was clear she’d reached the same conclusion he had regarding their relationship.

Good. They would start out fresh, employer to employee. That was just fine by him. He assumed it was very easy for her, though. She was biding her time, making the boyfriend back home pay for some misdeed. She wasn’t interested in pursuing a relationship with anybody else because this guy would show up one day soon, begging for forgiveness, and she would welcome him back with open arms.

Greg knew why she was working so hard to fix up her home. When the boyfriend came chasing after her with his tail between his legs, she would be able to graciously offer him a place to stay.

“Is something wrong?”

Her voice interrupted his thoughts, and he realized he was staring. “No, I’m fine.” His voice was cool and level as he tossed the notebook he was holding toward her desk. “There are a couple of proposals in there that need to be completed and then printed out so I can deliver them.”

The notebook hit the edge of her desk and started to slide off. She reached out to grab it. He lunged forward, but she’d already caught the notebook.

“Sorry, I—what happened to your hand?” A bandage was wrapped securely around her swollen wrist and the thumb of her right hand.

She opened the notebook and glanced over the figures for the proposals. “Oh, nothing. What time did you want to take these proposals to McDaniel Industries?”

He crossed his arms. The silence stretched endlessly until finally she dropped the notebook on her desk and faced him, crossing her own arms.

“If you must know, I slipped and fell off the ladder,” she said with that familiar raising of her chin.

His jaw dropped. “You fell?” he exclaimed. “Did you have it X-rayed?”

“It’s nothing. I’m fine, and no, I didn’t go to the doctor. I know the difference between a sprain and a break. Now did you want to deliver the proposals this morning or later this afternoon?”

He looked at her for a moment, and then a slow grin crossed his face. “I’m not making light of your injury, but didn’t you recently say you have never fallen off a ladder in your life?”

“So there’s a first time for everything. Can we stop talking about it, please?”

He reached around her and picked up the notebook. “Don’t worry about the proposals. I’ll type them up myself.”

“But—”

“But nothing,” he said firmly, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I’ve had my share of sprained wrists, ankles—you name it—and I know how painful it can be and how important it is not to stress the pulled ligament until it heals. You take care of the phones, and we’ll be fine today. Justin and Steve are in Dallas, and with the rain, there isn’t much going on, anyway.”

“But—”

“No buts. And not only did I make coffee, I will bring you some, too.”

****

An hour later Greg hung up the phone and rose from his chair. While he had been talking to a client, someone had come into the office. He heard voices and Ginger’s light, tinkling laughter. He waited a few seconds, and then he frowned. Gerald.

It was not unusual for Gerald to stop by the office. It wasn’t even unusual for him to stay and talk for a while. Hell, everyone knew Gerald was a friendly man. It didn’t mean anything.

Greg sat down and stared at his computer screen. If it didn’t mean anything, then why was he so irritated?

Ten minutes passed. Ten long minutes resulting in a headache from straining to hear the conversation in the front office. What are they talking about? Finally, he let out a frustrated sigh, hit the print button on his computer, and rose from his chair.

Gerald was standing beside Ginger’s desk. Whatever he was discussing with her must have required he bend down with his face close to hers.

“Hello, Gerald,” Greg said more loudly than he had intended.

Gerald straightened and slapped Greg on the shoulder. “Hey, old man. How’s it going?”

“Good. What are you up to?”

“Oh, not much. Finished the plumbing work at the new auto shop.” He crossed his arms. “Can’t start the new residential job until this rain lets up.”

“Yeah, it’s a mess. Tomorrow should be better, though. So,” Greg said, tapping the papers he carried against his leg, “you’re just passing time?”

Gerald grinned. “Pretty much.”

Ginger looked up. “Gerald dropped off the completed work orders.” She stood and leaned a hip against the desk. “I’ll be able to get the invoice out this afternoon.”

“Good,” Greg said with a nod. “But don’t worry about doing it today. Tomorrow is soon enough.”

She gave him a wry look. “I don’t think plugging numbers into a form will strain my wrist, but I appreciate your concern.”

Gerald looked at Greg and chuckled. “I don’t think she’s too worried about computer work when she’s contemplating doing some painting tonight.”

Greg’s head snapped up, and his eyebrows rose. Ginger gave Gerald a dark look before she replied. “Not real painting. The walls aren’t even ready yet. But I would like to put some color samples up so I can decide on what I want.”

“Hey, let’s get Greg’s opinion,” Gerald jumped in, reaching around Ginger to grab the paint color chart off her desk. He obviously hadn’t picked up on the tension swirling around the room. “Ginger and I sort of like this taupe color.” He pointed to one of the samples. “What do you think?”

Greg’s jaw tightened. “I think it would be wise to hold off doing anything until your wrist heals.”

“Hey, buddy, what kind of guy do you think I am?” Gerald asked, feigning an affront. “I told her to pick out several colors she likes, and I’ll go by the paint store and pick up a quart of each. I will be happy to put up some samples, and she can take a few days to make her choice. Besides,” he added, “I want to meet this great dog she’s been talking about. I’ll even pick up some food so she doesn’t have to cook.”

Ginger looked at Greg. “I told Gerald about my nightmare of a house.”

Greg was having trouble holding on to his temper. It seemed Gerald would be stepping in and taking over where he had left off—helping Ginger with her house, playing with Jack, bringing dinner. One way or the other, she was obviously determined to get her house completed before her boyfriend came chasing after her.

He should be relieved that now he need not feel guilty about the work remaining on her house, but all he felt was a slow-burning anger. Had she even thought how this was going to affect Jack? Nobody knew for sure how the big dog was going to behave with a stranger in the house. It wasn’t fair to suddenly introduce him to an unfamiliar man. What if he became aggressive? It would be impossible to control Jack with an injured hand.

It was a feeble excuse to rationalize his irritation, but Greg couldn’t come up with a better explanation for the tightening in his chest.

Well, if Ginger was comfortable with the arrangement, there was nothing he could do about it. “It seems like everything is taken care of, then.” He handed the papers he was holding to her. “When you get a chance, would you proofread these proposals?” Then, with a curt nod, he turned and headed back to his own office, but not before he heard Gerald say, louder than was necessary, that he would come by her house around six.

****

Ginger was just about to close up the office when Gerald unexpectedly stopped back by the office. “I’m sorry, Ginger,” he said with a grimace, carrying what looked like a large drink holder. “I’m afraid something has come up, and I’m not going to be able to put these paint samples up for you tonight, after all.”

She looked at the carrier, and a smile crossed her face. There were four quart-size cans of paint with a smear of each color spread across the lids. “Don’t worry about it, Gerald. It’s not that important. How much do I owe you for the samples?”

While she fished in her purse for the money to reimburse him, he peered down the hallway. “Where’s Greg?”

“He had a couple of proposals to deliver. He won’t be back today.” And she was glad he’d left. Greg had been in a surly mood all afternoon, and by the time he announced he was leaving, she’d been ready to kick him out the door. “Did you need me to leave him a message?”

“No, no, I was just wondering.” He accepted the money and stuffed it in his pocket. “If you’ll unlock your trunk, I’ll put these samples in there.”

“Thanks. Give me a minute to lock up.” She checked the lights in all the offices, turned off the coffee pot and her computer, and then grabbed her purse. “I really appreciate you picking up the samples for me.” She locked the door, and they headed for her car.

“You just make sure you don’t try to put any of these colors on your walls tonight by yourself. Greg will kill me.”

“Greg’s an old worrywart.” She unlocked the trunk of her car.

“That may be true.” He secured the paint carrier between her spare tire and the side of the trunk. “But on this point he’s right. If you don’t get the samples up tonight, I’ll make sure to do it for you tomorrow.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Hmm…first, you tell me not to put the paint on the walls, and then you tell me if I don’t, you’ll do it for me tomorrow. Your mind is definitely not on what you’re saying. I can only assume you have a hot date tonight,” she teased.

A red stain crept up his neck.

“You do, don’t you?” she exclaimed. “I’m glad you finally found the nerve to ask—what did you tell me her name was? Julia? Well, I am happy for you, Gerald. Where are you taking her?”

“Uh…I haven’t decided where I’m going to take her.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, the gesture proving how shy he really was. “You just be real careful with that wrist, you hear me?”

She clicked her heels together and gave him a salute. “Yes, sir! Now you go make your plans for tonight and stop worrying about me. And thank you again for picking up the paint.”

She winced when she pulled her car door closed. Her wrist only hurt when she used it, and because of that, she had accidentally reached out several times during the day to pick something up or push something closed. It was impossible not to use it.

It was embarrassing, really. She couldn’t tell Greg she’d been jumpy all day yesterday and the slightest noise had her running to the front window to look outside. Part of her had been hoping he would come by, and part of her had been wary of unwanted flowers arriving on her porch.

Distracted, she hadn’t focused on the repair work she started on the walls in her living room. She was carrying a tray of sheetrock mud up the ladder when Jack suddenly jumped up from his corner and ran to the front door. Startled, she lost her balance, and it was a race to see what would hit the floor first—her rear end or the tray of mud. It had turned out to be a tie.

She waved goodbye to Gerald and pulled out of the parking lot, her thoughts reflective on the irony of her feelings regarding romantic relationships. Her personal opinion about everlasting love where she was concerned did not apply to the magic she knew existed when two people fell in love and took the time to unwrap the unique gifts each brought to the relationship with honesty and sincerity. She hoped Gerald would find that magic with Julia.

It just wasn’t in the cards for her right now.

Half an hour later, she unlocked her door and steadied herself to accept Jack’s usual exuberant display of affection, keeping her right hand well away from the big dog. Scrambling to stay upright, she navigated her way to the back door and let him out, wondering if she should enroll him in doggie school. She really wasn’t making much progress with this whole manners thing.

She grabbed a soda from the refrigerator and headed to the bedroom to change into shorts and a tank top. She couldn’t wait to see what the sample colors looked like once they were applied to the wall. Certain men she knew might think she was an invalid with her sprained wrist, but she’d worked with more serious injuries than this before. It was awkward working with her left hand, but if she was careful, she could manage. Besides, she didn’t intend to tell either one of them she’d ignored their advice and applied the paint. What they didn’t know couldn’t hurt…her!

She’d just raised the trunk of her car when a black pickup truck pulled up beside her in the driveway. She froze. The last person she’d expected to see was Greg Tucker. What is he doing here?

He stepped out of the truck, and she snapped out of her paralysis, quickly slamming her trunk closed and shoving the keys in her front pocket. “Um…hello.” She hated that her voice sounded guilty even to her own ears. She avoided his eyes and walked to the opposite side of her car where she thumped the back tire with her bare foot. “I’m checking my tires. The ride home seemed a little rough today.”

He placed his hands on top of the car, his lips twitching as he watched her. “Your tires look fine to me.”

She looked up, placing her good hand in her back pocket. “Yeah, well, you weren’t the one driving the car.”

“That’s true. Do you want me to drive it around the block to see if I notice anything wrong?”

“No…um, no, but thanks anyway. I’ll see how it does in the morning. It could have just been that the road was rough.”

He grinned. “That’s probably all it was. I assume you were checking the condition of your spare tire in the trunk in case you need it, right?”

She glared at him. “Why are you here, Greg?” And why do you have to look so gorgeous? She had never really understood the term male magnetism before, but this man clearly defined the meaning.

He was very handsome in khakis and dress shirts, and he was extremely attractive in jeans and polo shirts, but he was drop-dead gorgeous in cutoff jeans and old, sleeveless T-shirts as he was dressed now, the well-defined muscles in his arms and legs contrasting sharply against his casual attire. Here was a man who was comfortable with himself and his environment, completely unaware of his powerful effect on her and probably countless other women. He was just so…male!

He pushed away from the car and walked to stand in front of her. “After my meeting this afternoon, I called Gerald to go over the plumbing work he’ll be doing tomorrow. While we were talking, he happened to mention something had come up, and he would not be able to help you with the paint samples until tomorrow evening. I had a sneaky feeling you wouldn’t want to wait until tomorrow, so I came by to help you. Of course, if you’d rather work on your car, I can help with that, too.”

She held a straight face as long as she could, but finally the laugh escaped, and she shook her head. “I was actually going to curl up with a good book and rest my hand, but since you’re here, I’d love to get the paint colors on the wall.”

“That’s what I figured,” he said, his deep voice full of amusement. “Where’s the paint?”

Pulling her keys out, she walked to the rear of her car. “In the trunk.”

“I never would have guessed.” He reached into the trunk of her car and pulled out the paint. “You need to get a truck, woman. With or without an injured hand, it’s too hard to pull heavy items out of this trunk.”

“I’ve actually thought about that. I used to drive my dad’s truck all the time.”

“They’re also much safer. If you were ever in a wreck, your chances of avoiding a serious injury are much better in a truck than a compact car.”

She looked at him as he closed the trunk. Of all the reasons to get a truck, safety was not something she’d thought about. However, she remembered Gerald had said something about Greg being in a bad accident. Had he been driving a small car at the time? She was about to ask him about that when he hoisted the container of paint samples on his shoulder and nodded toward the door. “Lead the way, boss.”

She darted ahead of him to open the front door, trying not to make too much out of his unexpected visit. The earlier tension at the office seemed to have faded, but she was realistic enough to know what this gesture was truly about. Regardless of how disappointed he was at what he thought was a flaw in her character, he was still a compassionate friend, one who wouldn’t want her to hurt herself.

Ginger held the front door open as he carried in the paint. She tried to curb some of Jack’s enthusiasm when he saw Greg, but it was pointless. However, as soon as Greg set the paint down in the foyer, he turned to Jack, and with a few stern commands, the dog calmed down and sat, looking at Greg expectantly.

Geez…I’m the one who feeds the two-timing mutt!

“He’s doing better, isn’t he?” Greg asked with a final pat on Jack’s head.

“Much.” She rolled her eyes.

“So you were planning on curling up with a good book, were you?”

She followed his gaze into the living room. She’d pulled the furniture away from one wall and covered that section of the floor with plastic. A couple of paint brushes, a paint tray, and a screwdriver sat innocently at the edge of the plastic, awaiting the start of the project. “I was, eventually. And before you get all bossy on me, I moved the furniture before I hurt my hand.”

He grinned. “Well, then, let’s git ’er done,” he said, his Larry the Cable Guy imitation down pat. He carried the paint over onto the plastic and opened one of the lids with the flat edge of a screwdriver.

She peered over his shoulder eagerly. She was itching to help, to grab a brush and apply some of the paint to the walls, but she knew he would only lecture her about resting her hand. Since that would only delay the project, she reluctantly kept her hands by her side. He reached for a paint brush, poured a small amount into the tray, and started to apply the first color to the wall, his movements smooth and fluent.

“This is the color I was the least sure about,” she said thoughtfully as she watched him, running a critical gaze over the light tan tint.

“You know it’s going to darken some as it dries.” He applied enough paint to cover a good section of the wall.

“Yeah, but I can usually get a good idea of what it’s going to look like the minute it’s on the wall. I must say, it’s not quite as bad as I thought it was going to be.”

“Well, we’ve got three more colors to go,” he reminded her.

“I know, and I can’t wait. Can’t you work a little faster?”

He shot her a look over his shoulder. “Make yourself useful, woman, and get me a beer.”

For the next half hour, they chatted easily about some of Tucker Construction’s jobs, the amazing photography Steve had done on a commercial project they were in the process of bidding on, and Justin’s landscaping goals for their own home. Ginger had plopped down on the floor, resting her back against a wall. Jack lay beside her, his big head in her lap. The conversation was light and friendly, each of them carefully avoiding personal topics.

More than once, she’d been on the verge of blurting out she wasn’t the kind of woman he thought she was, but she caught herself just in time, reminding herself she wasn’t going to offer an explanation. It shouldn’t matter what he thought of her, but unfortunately, it did. A lot.

“Okay.” He stretched his back. “That’s the final color. When it’s dry, you can choose your favorite.” He gathered up the paint tray and brushes and headed to the kitchen. “I’ll be right back.”

She started to stand. “I’ll clean those up.”

He shook his head and pointed a paint brush at her. “Sit and just admire the results you were fortunate to witness from an expert craftsman.”

She gave Jack a wry look. “Even you could slap some paint on a wall,” she muttered under her breath.

“I heard that!”