On Monday morning, Connall fought the urge to count the hours since he’d last seen Bernadette. It was definitely more than twenty-four, and tonight would mark forty-eight, but he didn’t want to count the in-between hours, because then he might have a problem on his hands.

Problem being he wanted to see her again. Badly.

He hadn’t expected to like her so much. Part of him had expected the daughter of his grandfather’s stodgy lawyer to be at least halfway as stodgy as him. But no. Not an ounce of stodginess in her.

And those kisses still burned in his mind. Had led him straight to the shower when he got home Saturday night, where he’d fisted himself into swirling heights of pleasure, imagining plump, ruby-red painted lips and those soft curves beneath her dress that he’d been dying to trace with his hands.

Connall checked his watch. Barely eight a.m. and already he was keyed up. If he saw Bernadette again, he might back her into a corner, have his way with her immediately. But when would that be? He needed to figure out a game plan. Despite how attracted he was, courting the daughter of his grandfather’s lawyer also seemed like a risk. Ticking him off was all well and good until it interfered with future legal matters.

The Seattle morning was gray but bright as he headed toward the manufacturing end of B3 Engines. He started every day this way, instead of heading directly to the corporate end where his and Gregor’s office lay. Seeing his workers was a critical part of the business plan. If it weren’t for them, none of this would exist.

He stepped onto the manufacturing floor, the loud whirr of machines greeting him. He tugged down his safety goggles, waving to a few workers nearby who were gathered around a machine, admiring some laser work. They waved back as he walked through. Those particular workers had been here since the beginning. One had recently married. Another had a daughter who was poised to enter college.

Connall kept tabs on the life events of everyone he could, made it a point to be interested and involved. Otherwise, how else could their company culture entice so many people to stay? B3 had a reputation for longevity and low turnover. People fought for open positions here, and usually new hires came with an existing employee’s recommendation.

B3 was family and would always be family. As long as Connall had anything to say about it.

He made his familiar rounds through the plant and then pushed through to the quiet hallway of the corporate end. He tugged his safety glasses down, letting them hang around his neck as he hurried toward his office, his shoes tapping out a quick pace against the wood floors. Elaborate potted palms dotted the hall, crisp white walls accented with slate gray. He smiled at his assistant Deb on his way through the door, her chair creaking as she launched up to follow him.

“Morning, sir!” she chirped. “I have a message already.”

“Dear Lord. It’s scarcely a breath past eight, and people have called?” He feigned shock. “Lay it on me.”

She straightened her posture, looking down at the note in her hands. “Mr. Abergine from Abergine and Finch called; he would like a call back at your earliest convenience.”

Connall sighed. “Very well. Thank you, Deb.” She excused herself, and Connall sank into his chair, staring at the phone to mentally prepare himself for the call. Dale Abergine was the Beaumont brothers’ lawyer, responsible for navigating them through the strange headlock of their grandfather’s last will and testament. They’d been talking more frequently as the deadline loomed nearer. And each call was progressively less fun.

Dale picked up on the second ring. He sounded winded. “I hoped that was you.”

“It’s me,” Connall confirmed, seeing a flash of Bernadette in his mind. What was she up to? “So, any good news?”

“Unfortunately, no.” Something creaked on the other end, like maybe Dale was sitting down. “I was hoping you’d have some.”

“Not me either,” Connall said. They’d been brainstorming ways for Connall to find that much-needed wife, but everything felt too smarmy or underhanded. Both his brothers had tried unconventional approaches and lucked out. But lightning couldn’t strike three times. “Though I did run into Mr. Rowland over the weekend.”

There was a pause on the other end of the phone. “Your grandfather’s lawyer?”

“Yes. Well, I saw him, rather. We didn’t speak. I actually spoke with his daughter. And then I took her out on a date.”

“Hm.” Heavy breathing, and then Dale tutted. “She know anything about her dad’s work?”

Connall snorted. “I didn’t ask. I was a bit too preoccupied with other aspects of the evening.”

“Sure, sure.” Dale paused. “You know, that man is ruthless. Even if you found your soul mate but didn’t get married before the due date, that jackal would laugh your company right into the ground. He’s crazy for shit like that. Loves to get those dramatic wins. It’s all for his website testimonials, you know.”

Connall gnawed at the inside of his lip. “Well, it doesn’t matter, I guess, since I don’t even have a fiancée to not marry in six weeks.”

A loud slap from the other end sounded. “You should marry his daughter! Wouldn’t that be a hoot?”

“Brilliant,” Connall said. “I’ve thought of it myself. How terribly ironic. But there’s no way I could bring up my situation with her, much less ask her to help me solve it. She’s too nice. I actually like her.”

Dale grumbled low. “But maybe she can find something out for us?”

Connall’s stomach knotted strangely. “Like what?”

“Like what loopholes exist.” Dale’s breathing picked up. “That’s all we need to know. What loophole there might be. Whatever last-ditch effort we can make to get you out of this damned agreement.”

“I can see that going over well,” Connall said. “So, what, I take her out for a date, then casually ask if she’s brought along her father’s client documents?”

“No. Of course not. You’d be much slyer than that.”

Connall shook his head. “I actually like her, Dale. I couldn’t do that.”

“You wouldn’t be doing anything. If you’re already getting close to her…it might come about naturally. She could find out…pass the information your way…voila.”

Connall sighed tersely, working his jaw back and forth as he considered the proposition. The idea was outlandish, yet they were mere weeks away from the possible dissolution of his entire life’s work.

“It’s the only shot you have at getting out of this thing,” Dale added when the silence had stretched too thin. “Otherwise, we might as well kiss the business goodbye right now.”

His words crashed down around him, igniting that telltale twitch behind Connall’s left eye that appeared anytime he seriously considered the possible ending of B3. “What if I sell my shares to Gregor? Like Alistair did. Then once the will is executed, I’ll just buy them back.”

Dale tutted. “If that changed anything for Alistair, it’s only because he completely separated from the company. You wouldn’t be doing that. You’d be coming back on board like a hot potato. So unless you have plans on finding a wife sometime soon…we have to find the loophole, or you lose the biz.”

All the workers who had invested so much in this business, in him…he couldn’t stand to let them down. Couldn’t fathom being that harbinger of bad news. Destroying college funds. Ruining holidays. Casting uncertainty and stress onto the lives of so many families.

“I’m planning on spending more time with her,” Connall said carefully, clenching and unclenching a fist as he thought. “I’ll see what I can learn…but if I can’t, I can’t. I’m just not comfortable using someone like that.”

“Hey. That’s fine. But give it the ol’ college try,” Dale said. They chatted about a few other matters before hanging up, promising to reconnect later that week for an update.

In the stillness of his office, Connall stared at the metallic swirls on his desk top, letting Dale’s proposition cycle through him.

It would be stupid of him not to do whatever he could to save his company. Even if Bernadette couldn’t help, he didn’t want the demise of his start-up to include the lurking what if of never having asked.

He just had to figure out how to bring it up…without scaring her off. He busied himself in work for the remainder of the morning, letting the mental sludge of the situation settle around him until he was ready to dive in head first.

His palms were sweaty as he swiped open his phone and navigated to Bernadette’s number. You’re in your thirties, and calling a girl still makes you nervous. Well done, old chap. Did dating ever become easy? It seemed a serious impossibility that he could ever make it through the early stage of a relationship without damp palms and incessant second guessing.

Bernadette picked up on the fourth ring, just as Connall’s anxiety kicked into overdrive. But at the first sound of her husky voice, Connall relaxed, a grin overtaking his face.

“Bernadette. I hope this isn’t a bad time. I’ve just been dying to hear your voice again since I last saw you.”