| |
Neil O’Malley, the foreman in charge of the Montreau reconstruction, met Jacie at the lobby door. They’d worked together on a previous project and Jacie had faith in his abilities to keep a project moving on time and on budget.
“Soloing, eh?” he teased as he held the door open for her. She smiled at him, doing her best to tamp down butterflies. It wasn’t that she wasn’t ready to meet Clinton again...yes, it was. She could live quite happily without seeing Clinton again, but she needed to see him. To get some closure—diminish the monster he’d become in her head over the years.
“Looking forward to it.”
“You pretty much soloed on that last project if I recall.”
“Mark had a packed schedule.” Which had worked for her. It meant she got to do things her way. The project had come in on time and under budget...and Mark had taken the bows. That was the way it worked for the staff engineers.
Neil stopped inside the foyer. “Wow. I hadn’t expected so many people.”
Neither had she, but the Montreau had the potential to be a major tourist draw in the small community and the local business folk were, of course, supportive. The first person she spotted, standing tall and proud, was her former stepfather, a drink in his hand and an urbane smile on his lips as he spoke with a small group. Other than the strands of silver in his dark hair, he looked very much as he had the last time she’d seen him, ten years ago.
She drew in a deep breath, willed herself to relax, then smiled as Earl Norris, the hotel manager, waved them over to where he stood with a small group she recognized as the owners of the hotel.
“The guests of honor,” Earl announced as she and Neil joined the group. Brian Manning and Lars Henders were both in their early sixties, lean and fit for their age and obviously pleased to have the project underway. They greeted Jacie with smiles and handshakes.
Georgia Duncan, Brett’s aunt, was a striking platinum-haired woman in her late fifties who did not seem as thrilled as the other two owners. She shook hands politely while giving Jacie a surreptitious once-over. Her son, Brock, who was blonde and handsome in a chiseled Scandinavian way, was more enthusiastic, but from the way his gaze traveled over her, Jacie didn’t think it was for the same reason as Brian and Lars. She’d just released his hand, when there was movement behind her and she turned to look straight into her former stepfather’s unsmiling eyes.
“Jacie,” he said with warmth that belied the ice in his eyes. He opened his arms as if to hug her, but Jacie couldn’t do it. She thrust out a hand, and even that was difficult.
Earl cleared his throat. “And I think you know our mayor.”
“I do.” Jacie said as he took her hand, squeezed it firmly. Too firmly. “Clinton.”
“Jacie. You look wonderful.”
“Thank you.” If he expected a compliment in return, he wasn’t getting it.
An awkward silence hung until Georgia said, “Miss Rose. I have to tell you how pleased I was to hear that a local person was put in charge of our project.”
“Thank you.” Jacie was surprised.
“Although I was a bit taken aback when I discovered that you were a girl.”
Jacie smiled. Kind of. “Well, as they say, it’s been a while since I’ve been a girl, but yes, I agree. There aren’t that many women in construction management.”
“I imagine there’s a reason for that,” Brock said with a wink. Jacie tried to remember the last time anyone had winked at her and came up empty.
“Really?” Earl asked.
“How many men willingly take orders from women?” Brock replied, smiling as if he expected applause for his brilliant observation. “I can’t imagine that blue collar guys like being bossed around by a woman.”
“If they want to remain employed, they will,” Jacie answered, keeping her tone light while fervently hoping that Brock lived far away and she wouldn’t have to contend with him on a regular basis.
“I have no problem taking orders from a woman,” Neil said from beside her. “In my experience, a lot of the women managers had a better bead on what’s going on than the men.” He nodded at Jacie. “Best engineer I’ve ever worked with.”
“That’s reassuring.” But Georgia didn’t look reassured.
“I’m certain Jacie will handle everything to the best of her abilities.” Clinton smiled blandly, leaving the interpretation of his remark open. As in, she’d do her best, but how good was that?
Jacie’s jaw muscles tightened, but she managed a smile before turning to Georgia and Brock. “Let me assure you, I’ve worked with this crew before and we do well together. There should be no problems.”
Georgia gave her a polite if not totally convinced smile and Brock shrugged and stared at her legs. Not a lot of brain power there. Georgia asked Brock to get her a drink, then promised Jacie they’d talk some more later before drifting away to another group.
“I have a few questions about the design,” Brian said, claiming her attention. “If you don’t mind...otherwise I can make a private appointment. I’m heading back to Kalispell tomorrow, but I travel here often.”
“I’d be happy to answer questions now,” Jacie said, hoping that Clinton would get bored and wander away to commune with his constituency. He eventually did just that, but it took a while and a lot of technical talk that Brian seemed to follow easily. Jacie glanced at the back of his head as he left the group.
I’m sure Jacie will handle everything to the best of her abilities.
She’d show him the best of her abilities. Jerk.
Brett drifted into the lobby of the Montreau and took a quick look around, getting his bearings. He was surprised at how many people were there, but then again, reopening the Montreau was a big deal to the town.
It didn’t take long for him to spot his Aunt Georgia, who had Jacie backed up against the buffet table. Brock hovered not far away, which made him wonder if Georgia was trying to talk Jacie into making Brock site boss or something. Jacie kept smiling and shaking her head and Georgia kept talking.
Brett crossed the room toward them, nodding as he passed people he knew, which was most everyone. No one seemed to find it odd that a rodeo rider/hay farmer was at a city event. He stopped at the bar and ordered a beer, then headed toward Georgia and Jacie. Jacie caught sight of him before Georgia and he couldn’t tell if it was relief or surprise he read in her expression. It had to be relief. No one did well with his aunt.
“Georgia,” he said as he came to a stop. “You look wonderful, as always.” Georgia had been a bona fide city girl before marrying into the ranching Duncan family and she’d never given up her designer fashion ways. “Jacie. Good to see you.” And she did look good in a dark silver dress that smoothed over her curves and flared out at the hips. The heels didn’t do her any harm either.
“Good to see you, too.” She spoke smoothly even though she was frowning at him in a bemused way.
“I came to see if you’d like a drink.” He glanced over at his useless cousin. “Since no one else has seen to it.” Brock instantly straightened, but it was obviously too late.
“I’d love a drink. Thank you.” She smiled at Georgia. “Have I answered all of your questions, or would you like to schedule more time to talk? I’ll be in my office here at the Montreau as of Monday.”
Georgia’s gaze bounced between Brett and Jacie. “I might take you up on that should any more questions arise.”
“You have an office here?” Brett asked as he guided Jacie away from his aunt and cousin and back toward the bar.
“A construction office, which means a tiny room next to the restaurant.”
“Sorry if I overstepped back there. I know Georgia is an owner, but I’ve been on the receiving end of her inquisitions, and you looked like you needed rescued.” When her head snapped around at the word rescue, he added, “Not rescued, per se—”
“I know what you meant,” she said. “See? I’m trying hard not to be defensive. And I appreciate your help.” She sent him a sideways look. “I’d already answered the same question three times.”
Probably in smaller and smaller words. “Georgia is nothing if not tenacious. Your pleasure?” he asked, gesturing at the bar.
“I’d love Jameson, but I’m working, so make it sparkling water with lime.”
“Coming up.” He moved to the bar, ordered the drink. When he handed it to her, Jacie took an immediate sip which made him wonder if it was only a Georgia Duncan encounter she was recovering from. He gestured toward Clinton, who was holding court on the other side of the room with three Cherry Lake business owners. “Have you spoken to Calloway yet?”
She nodded before sipping again. “It wasn’t that bad.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” And he didn’t believe it.
“Why are you here?” she asked, as if it suddenly dawned on her that he didn’t have a big stake in the success of the Montreau.
“I love these kinds of events.”
“Bullshit.”
He grinned at her. “Honest.”
She gave a soft snort, then her face lit up as someone approached. He turned to see Mrs. Anderson, his high school geometry teacher turned real estate agent, approaching.
“Jacie! It’s so great to see you. And Brett...what’s it been? Two, maybe three days?”
Brett laughed. “Two. We met in line at the grocery store,” he explained to Jacie.
He drifted away then, leaving Jacie to catch up with Mrs. Anderson, and retreated to the edge of the room to watch. Georgia was torturing someone he didn’t know near the rear exit, so he assumed that poor soul was with the renovation project. Clinton had broken away from the summit meeting he’d been holding near the opposite wall and was now in conversation with his Uncle Robert. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to blows, although the two men put a good public face on their mutual hatred of one another.
He glanced at his watch. Pulled in a breath. He probably shouldn’t have come, but he had finished in the fields early and after pacing the house, he’d decided to satisfy his need to make certain that Jacie’s first encounter with Calloway went okay. He’d detested the man because of what he’d done to Jacie and then watching his Uncle Robert contend with Calloway’s slick underhanded ways during the election left an ever sourer taste in his mouth.
And now, as he sipped his drink and casually surveyed the crowd, he noticed that Clinton kept glancing over at Jacie, as if sizing her up, waiting for his chance.
It was possible that he was imagining things—it’d been ten years since Jacie left home, but now she was back, in charge of the biggest project this town had seen in a while, thus giving her clout she hadn’t had before.
Did Calloway see her as a threat?
And was it any of Brett’s business if he did?
No, but he stayed put, watching and waiting, and sure enough, after Jacie had excused herself from a group of merchants to turn down the long hall that led to the restrooms, Clinton crossed the room and parked himself in a strategic spot. A moment later Brett pushed off the wall and made his way toward the second hallway that led to the atrium at the rear of the hotel.
Jacie pushed open the ladies’ room door and stepped into the elegant mahogany paneled room, thankful that she had a few minutes to herself. She’d done her share of meet and greets, but never in a place where she knew so many people—or where those people seemed so surprised to see a woman at the helm. It appeared that she’d have to work doubly hard to prove herself to her hometown.
And then there was Clinton...
Being in the same room as him brought back a flood of memories—every one of them bad—and made her feel oddly tainted. She hadn’t fooled herself into believing that she wouldn’t see her former stepfather—especially when she was working on the biggest project in Cherry Lake and he owned a piece of the Montreau restaurant—but she’d underestimated her gut level reaction to his presence. He creeped the hell out of her.
You’re tougher than this.
She leaned toward the guilt-edged mirror and reapplied her lipstick. She’d come home to lay ghosts to rest and that was exactly what she was going to do—starting with the toughest one. She even had a small victory under her belt—she’d survived the first, and therefore most difficult, Clinton encounter...and then Brett had showed up to make certain she was okay.
She was still working on that.
Brett was there, at a function he had no business being at, and she had no doubt that it was solely for her benefit. How could she not be touched by such a gesture? And also a little freaked out.
Deal with it.
Jacie dropped the lipstick in her purse, smoothed her hair, opened the ladies’ room door and walked straight into Clinton’s chest.
“Easy there,” he said, bringing his hands up to steady her.
Jacie did not give him the satisfaction of jerking out of his hold, even though it took everything she had not to. Instead she turned a cold gaze to where his hands rested on her shoulders, willing down the memories of when he’d manhandled her in the past in a similar way. “Excuse me,” she said, breaking free by taking a step sideways, but he smoothly blocked her path.
“I assume, since you’re in my way, you have something to say.”
He smiled down at her with the same expression that used to chill her when he’d been married to her mother, because it meant he was going to do something to make her life miserable if she didn’t toe the line. “You’ve been gone a long time.”
Jacie didn’t answer because she knew from experience that he’d get to his point faster if she kept quiet.
“And now here you are, back to save the Montreau. A veritable hometown heroine—to those who don’t know you.”
“I’m looking forward to the project,” Jacie said from between her teeth.
“I understand you brought your daughter with you. Her first time in Cherry Lake, right? So much to learn about. So many things she doesn’t know.”
“Are you threatening me?” Because she knew Clinton’s expressions and tone of voice well enough to take his statement as a threat.
“Why would I do that?”
“Good question, since I’m here to do a job.”
“I can’t help but wonder how well you’re going to do that job,” he said in a cold nasty tone.
“Another threat?”
He lifted his eyebrows in silent acknowledgement. The hallway was empty and a good distance from the main party in the lobby and she really hated being alone with the guy. But she wasn’t going to fall into her old role. She shifted her weight, did her best to pretend he was a misogynistic construction boss she’d dealt with in the past, pointed her finger at his chest and said, “Don’t screw with me, Clinton.”
He gave a short humorless laugh. “Or...?”
A movement behind him caught her eye. Brett stepping out of the atrium at the end of the hall and starting toward them, in protection mode. It amazed her how well she remembered that particular expression—the same one he’d worn when she’d talked to him about Clinton on rodeo trips.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he said to Jacie. “Earl was asking about you.”
She turned to Clinton, met his gaze dead on. “I have to get back.”
When she turned to go, Brett put his hand on the small of her back, his touch light, yet reassuring. Jacie’s nerves jumped at the contact, but she didn’t move away. It was a small gesture, an unspoken indication of support—so what if it triggered a jolt of raw awareness deep inside of her? She waited until his hand fell away and she felt as if she could take a reasonable breath to say, “That wasn’t an accident, was it? You being in the atrium.”
“No. I came in through the other hallway.” Brett hooked a thumb in his belt loop. “I had a bad feeling about Calloway.” She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, he added, “You aren’t the only one who has issues with the man. My uncle ran against him for mayor. It wasn’t very pleasant.”
“I can imagine.” And because she felt an urge to step closer to him, to draw closer to his solid warmth as a way to counteract Clinton’s cold nastiness, she took a step back, clutched her purse more tightly. “This is twice you’ve rescued me today.”
“It was more of a show of support. Nothing I wouldn’t have done back in high school.” He cocked an eyebrow as his lips curved ironically. “You know...when you saw me as a big brother?”
Big brother. Right.
What a liar she was.
And she had a sneaking suspicion from the way he was smiling at her that he’d figured that out...or had he known all along?
Should she ask? Address what suddenly felt like the elephant in the hotel hallway? Deny it all or maybe even fess up?
She looked into those blue, blue eyes and realized she didn’t have the courage—because she wasn’t ready to deal with the answer.
