CHAPTER TWO

Ten Days to Deadline

 

 

“You wanted me to remind you when it’s time to go up to the main office this afternoon, Boss.” Frank Stewart, my general foreman, pulls a lop-sided grin.

I lift off my hard hat and swipe a forearm across my brow. “Remind me again what I’m interrupting my day for?”

“You know, Jack. Interview with the journalist? JT Vickers? About our construction project? He’s waiting on ya. Come on. I’ll walk with you as far as the security shack.”

I slick back my hair and clamp it in place with the bright yellow helmet that proclaims me management. “I can’t get away right now. They’ll have to wait.”

“I don’t think you have a choice, Boss.”

“Then I’ll go at quitting time. I’m in the middle of something here.” Something a lot more vital to our success than giving an interview. I flick away my annoyance. It’s a distraction I can’t afford.

Frank studies what the carpenter, Newhouse, and I are doing.

“Is that scaffolding?”

“Yeah. We needed a better way to maneuver down in the Supercritical CO2 well.”

“When did you guys come up with this idea?”

“I had trouble sleeping last night, so I sketched this out.”

Eagle eyes scan the drawing. “Looks good. Safer in case of shifts from former fracking.”

“I don’t think we’ll have trouble with fracking, but this will at least allow more pipefitters down the tube to get their jobs done more efficiently.”

His gaze flicks to mine. “Enough to catch up those two days?”

“And then some, if we’re lucky. Anyway, it’s a whole helluva lot more important than an interview with a reporter.”

“Maybe so, but—”

“Yeah, I know.” I sigh and turn back to the carpenter. “You got this, Newhouse?”

He salutes with a hammer. “We’re on it. Go make us sound good to the powers that be.”

Damn, I hate to stop. I was just getting into the rhythm of it. People don’t realize how much I need to have tools in my hands. It’s where all aspects of a job come together for me. When I get my hands on construction, it’s like a doctor’s hands scanning a patient. I can feel how healthy the project is, and even where we might run into trouble. It’s also where I feel centered, most at peace. “Frank, it’s our first full day here. I think one of us should stay in case the crew have questions or problems. Go do your security stuff, and I’ll go up when you get back.”

“The sooner you go, Jack, the sooner you can get back to this. I’ll wait here until you return.”

I jerk a nod in acquiescence and leave my master carpenter to it. He knows what he’s doing, and I’m just procrastinating on walking the mile and a half from the plant site, through security, and on up to the main building. For a fool’s errand.

Here’s that pesky annoyance again. It’s all I can do to keep the snarl out of my voice when I turn back to Frank. “Two days’ of Rio-Tex work to catch up on at this godforsaken site, in Nowhere, Texas, before we can even get to the real task, and now I’ve also got to take time out to do PR with a city slicker who goes by his initials instead of his name.”

“How long can it take, Jack? It’s a construction project, for Pete’s sake. And the project needs the PR. You’re good at that, so what’s the big deal?”

We step away from the work. I scan the crews, assessing what’s underway. My shoulders are already in knots, and I’ve only been here a day. It might have helped unwind some of this tension if I’d gotten to take that girl home with me last night.

“Never missed a deadline before, Frank. Didn’t start this company to fail now.”

“We’ve pulled out some close ones before, Jack. And you know how good this crew is. They’ll bring it in for you.”

It’s true. The members of my crew are more like family. They’ve pulled rabbits out of hats for me. I’d go to the mat for any of them. And this man? He’s mentored me and stuck with me since my early college days as an intern, either chastising or supporting me, as the situation needed. Can’t imagine where I’d be without him. My devotion runs deep to the entire band of men. “They are good.”

“They damn well have to be, to put up with a 27-year-old boss whose evil eye can melt them straight into the ground. They know you, Jack. They’ve all worked with you practically from the first project you took on. They know your standards.” He grins at me. “You always get uptight at the beginning of a project.”

The first couple of days on a rescue project like this determine how successful we can expect to be overall. I’ve done all I can do for the moment, and Frank is my extension, covering areas I can’t get to right away. He’s right; I’m just in my usual worry mode. If we have a good day today, I’ll be fine tomorrow.

Frank gives a wry laugh. “Go on. It’s too damn hot, and I’m getting too old for this shit. Besides, you’re kinda cranky. Are you sleep-deprived? You did go home with that redhead, didn’t you?”

Just the mention of Jilly has me heating from something more than the Texas sun or the breakneck pace I’ll set to the main office. I squint a scowl at Frank. “Got plenty of sleep.”

His silver head snaps my way. “Oh-ho, so that’s it. What happened? She looked like a sure thing.”

Yeah, I’d thought so, too, right up until that phone call. We both left after that, and not together. My senses and I had been primed red hot, and then we got the brush-off. It all happened so fast, I didn’t even get her number. Not that I’d be able to use it until after the deadline. “You had two sure things. Maybe that’s why you can’t make it up the hill today, old man?”

He guffaws. “The old dog got laid, and the young puppy went home with his dick in his hand. You must be losing your touch.”

That doesn’t rate a reaction beyond my narrowed eyes.

He smirks and veers off to get back to work. “Have fun with your interview.”

“See ya back at the pumphouse.”

I pick up speed, letting my long stride gobble up the distance. The damnable heat may kill me. I let my mind wander, trying not to think about how nice an ocean walk would be right now.

A new idea for even better scaffolding deeper down the drill shaft forms in my mind and reveals itself to me in bits and pieces as I get through security and close in on the main building.

Hopping up the steps, I pull open the main door and get blasted with icy, conditioned air. I stride through the lobby and down a hallway to the spartan conference room, ignoring the dusty plastic tree standing forlornly in the corner. A buffet-style table sits in the center of the room, surrounded by four metal folding chairs, two on either long side.  Sunlight trickles through the slats of the blinds covering windows that bank the back wall of the drab space, struggling to improve the look of the functional beige walls.

A pair of long, slender legs licked by the sun decidedly spruces up the place. Taking a moment to rake down the back of the woman looking out the windows, I realize with a start that I recognize those legs. Golden-red hair trellises more than halfway down her back, and I distinctly remember how silky it feels against my face, and how good it smells. She’s even taller than she was last night, her pumps making her almost eye-level with me. I snort. Stilettos at a construction site. I’d laugh out loud if I weren’t suddenly feeling like a sucker who was played last night. Why didn’t she tell me she was coming on-site today?

I slide one foot out, hip jutted, arms crossed over my chest. “I think one of us is in the wrong place.”

She turns at my voice, and her eyes go wide. “You’re the AmerItalia exec they sent for my interview?”

Like she didn’t already know that, being all friendly with the Rio-Tex big boss, as she appeared to be when he introduced us. Last time I checked, ‘fool’ wasn’t stamped on my forehead.

In the daylight, I’m snagged by the vivid turquoise of those eyes staring back at me, assessing me, sizing me up, just like she did last night. She wanted what I had to offer, then. In the light of day, stone sober, will she still want it? Or will she be able to see past the façade and find me lacking—a silent devil too serious by half, like countless others before her have said.

In broad daylight, in this dusty, dreary excuse for a room, she still looks good to me. All fiery and hot to my cool quiet. A riot of chili pepper flames around her head and shoulders, couched around big pools of Jamaican greenish-blue. Those eyes had haunted my dreams, made me wish for something I don’t need to tangle with right now, not with all the pressure to bring in this contract on time.

She’d been relegated to the back burner until after the job was over, so what the hell is she doing here?

A lazy flick of my wrist pushes the door closed, and I let my half-lidded gaze answer her. My hard hat tucked under one arm, I pull off the work gloves I’m never without. As I cross the room, I stare her down. “You told me you didn’t work here.”

“I don’t.”

Tension is thick, pinging between us, pulling at me. Tension mixed with something else. Something earthy and sensual, as well as some irritation at our situation and how to proceed.

“I take it you’re JT Vickers?” Even though it’s not necessary, I come around the table to pull out a chair for her. She sits down sideways to cross her legs and then angles them under the table. I lean in to find out if her hair’s the same fragrance it was last night. Yep, light, floral, just like I remembered. My fingers want to feather through the masses of wavy copper. “What’s the T for?”

“Theodora.”

I move to the seat directly across from her. “Jillian Theodora.” A trick of the afternoon sunlight makes her blurred around the edges as if she’s glowing. Fiery hair, intense eyes, high cheekbones, full raspberry-colored lips just begging to be nibbled, promising tart and tangy pleasure along with soft succulence.

“You were expecting a man?” Her instep accidentally comes in contact with my calf, and the jolt to my awareness is white-hot. When she reaches for her briefcase, she deftly adjusts the position of her foot away from me. I resist the urge to rub out the tingling left behind on my leg.

I’ve got no time for this kind of trouble. “How come you’re interviewing me? You work for a local paper?”

“My father is one of the investors on this project. My family promotes a greener environment, beginning here in Texas. I run the blog. It has over 100,000 followers, many of them scientists and environmental groups.”

Who is her father? Obviously somebody important. So, she’s definitely not a band groupie. Good thing we were interrupted by that phone call last night since my intentions weren’t exactly honorable. Which reminds me…

“Who called you last night?”

A flush creeps over her cheeks. “What? Oh, one of my brothers, if it’s any of your business. But I was talking about my blog.”

Cockblocked by a brother, and now she wants to change the subject. “You cut out right after the call.”

Her fidgets remind me she’s just out of college. Young. “I had to get home.”

“You live with your brother?” This is a totally different dimension to the spitfire I had pressed against my body during our dance. How did I misread her signals so badly? Surely one or two beers hadn’t messed me up that much.

She looks me straight in the eyes, reminding me of the Amazon who caught my attention last night. “I thought you were on a deadline. Let’s get to interviewing you instead of me,” she says.

This time I let a smile stretch over one side of my face. She blinks and swallows and fumbles slightly with the iPad peeking out of her compact briefcase. My ego likes the idea that her sudden awkwardness is because of a physical reaction to me. “Go ahead.”

She clears her throat and sits up straighter in the uncomfortable chairs. “Could you give me an update on the progress of the geothermal project now that AmerItalia has been brought in? Why you were brought in? What will your crew be doing?”

I barely hear her, wrapped up as tight as I am, absorbing her looks and remembering how she felt in my arms. Yeah, it’s real good that she got that phone call and I didn’t drag her to my hotel room. Especially considering the idea that’s beginning to play around in my mind. “I’m sorry. Tell me again what you’re looking for in this blog post you’re writing?”

She pulls the iPad out of her case. “All right. What I’d like to know is more about AmerItalia. What made you choose this project in particular? And how did you select your crew? Tell me what they’re like, what made you all go into construction, the lifestyle it gives you, those kinds of things.”

“Why?”

Her eyes widen. “I beg your pardon?”

“Why do you need to know anything about my people?”

“The human element,” she answers succinctly.

“The human element.”

“Exactly.”

“You want me to tell you things about my crew’s personal lives so that you can put the details into a blog post and spread it all over the Internet?”

She stiffens, and color creeps up her neck. “You make it sound…sordid.”

I arch a brow in her direction.

“But it isn’t. I’m not asking you to reveal secrets, for heaven’s sake. It’s just that most readers I know want to read about people as much as about building structures and procedures.”

I cross my arms and rest one elbow on a forearm, hiding most of my mouth, tugging at the center of my upper lip as I study her. She returns my penetrating stare with an equally serious one of her own.

“No,” I say finally, and drop my arm to fold flat over my midsection.

“What?”

“No,” I repeat calmly.

“I heard you; I don’t understand you.”

“I won’t talk about individual members of my crew behind their backs, without their permission.”

“Nor am I asking you to.”

I cock my brow at her again.

“Well, not really,” she amends. “Of course I’m not asking you to gossip about anyone.”

“Of course not.” I try to hold back the sarcasm, but it’s damn hard.

She eyes me skeptically. “I just want to include a human angle to my post about your project.”

“I understand that.”

“Good. In that case, back to my original questions.”

“The answer is still no.”

She sighs and sits back in the flimsy metal chair. “We’re not making much headway, are we?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think we both have a pretty good idea where each of us stands on our respective issues. That’s a start.”

Her head cocks as she waits for me to continue.

“Unfortunately, Jilly, even if I were inclined to share crew information with you, I don’t have the time.”

Two spots of color sit high on her cheekbones, and lightning flashes in those incredible eyes. “I understand deadlines, Jack, and I wouldn’t like to contribute to you missing yours. However, I happen to know that the power company is very interested in my completing a first-rate post, and they love the angle I pitched them.”

She’s not backing down. Good. I’m in the mood to spar with a wildcat. “That’s the only reason I’m taking time out of my day to meet with you.” No longer exactly true. I want to see her again, without breaking my fraternization rules.

“So, where does that leave us?” she asks.

“It leaves me making you a proposition.”

The look she gives me should have set my hair on fire. “You’re propositioning me.”  Her sneer’s so thick I could spread it on a hamburger bun.

“I’ll hire you as one of the crew.”

She blinks and leans forward, opening her mouth to speak.

“On the graveyard shift. Six at night ‘til six the next morning. You can talk to some of the crew yourself.”

Her mouth snaps shut, and her face resembles a marble mask. A very rosy one.

I don’t give her time to even think about interrupting. “Now, you understand that doesn’t mean I’m giving you carte blanche to tie up hours of my guys’ time. But I’ll let them know that you’ll be asking questions, and that anything they tell you about themselves will be free to use in your article.”

“I don’t have construction skills.”

“You’ll be my secretary.”

Her gaze wanders around the room, and I can almost hear the gears in her head as she constructs an argument. “Don’t you already have one? I mean, if you’re an executive, that would be normal.”

“There’s a team of secretaries and timekeepers for the project, but, no, I don’t usually hire one just for myself. One of the crew handles it. However, as long as I’m paying you, I’ll find things for you to do. And leave you enough time for your article.”

She shakes her head, inhaling. “I don’t know. I don’t think I have much aptitude for clerical work.”

“Do you want that story?”

“Yes, of course. You know I do.”

“This is what I’m offering. It’s all I have time for, Jilly,” I add with enough sincerity that she deflates, giving up the fight. She doesn’t need to know this is the best way I can think of to keep seeing her while I’m in Texas, yet keep her at a safe distance, since I won’t allow myself to mess with her while she’s in my employ.

 “Couldn’t I just visit down at the site, mill around, talk to some of the guys when they take a break or something?” she counters hopefully.

I’m losing patience. She either needs to piss or get off the pot. “Security won’t let anyone through the inner gates without a badge. And only employees, who’ve gone through all the vetting, get badges.”

I can see another suggestion forming in her fertile brain. Not happening. This ends now.

“Jilly, either you hire on with AmerItalia, or you’ll have to find another subject to write about for your blog.” I stand, holding out my hand.

She rises to shake it, those pretty lips pinched in frustration. “I suppose I would be able to get good first-hand information for the article this way.”

“Absolutely,” I agree, holding onto her hand. “It won’t be what you’re used to--”

She jerks her hand out of my grasp. “Don’t worry about what you think I might or might not be used to, Mr. DePaul. I’m pretty adaptable.”

Maybe that’s true. Maybe with two older brothers, she’s used to being around working men. We’ll see.

She picks up the leather case she brought with her. “If you’ll direct me to personnel, I’ll get this ball rolling.”

I stride toward the door. Reaching for the knob, I swivel my head at her, brow raised. “You’ve decided this is what you want, right?”

“Right.” Her head bobs, stubborn chin jutting.

I study her for another heart-stopping second, then smile as I watch her approach in those damn four-inch heels.

“Riiight,” I drawl, closing the door behind us.