CHAPTER NINE

Seven Days to Deadline

 

 

Please don’t move off me. I love the way you curl around me in bed like you did on the dance floor. Let me bask in this amazing afterglow. I’ve never felt so cherished.

Suddenly, his body goes slack around me. It takes a couple of minutes for me to realize what’s happened.

He’s fallen asleep.

On top of me.

Still inside me.

His breathing is soft and slow in my ear, head buried in my neck.

This man. A big kid who’s played so hard he collapses where he is, too tired to get up and go to bed. This man I shouldn’t let myself feel anything for, because he’s going to be gone in a week.

My hand drifts up, gently stroking the muscles lying in thick pads over his shoulder. He doesn’t stir.

How tired he must be. And how relaxed he is right now. He deserves it. He works hard. Provides livelihoods. He might even revolutionize greening in the energy business. No small feat for anyone, much less someone still in his twenties, with his own obscure company, taking enormous risks. If he can find rest and a moment’s peace with me, then that’s a good thing.

My heart swells, and it’s all I can do to keep from squeezing him tight.

But I don’t want to wake him. Because when he wakes up, things will be different. The way we see each other will have changed. This wasn’t just a quick hook-up after a pool party. At least not for me.

I want us to stay right where we are. I want to memorize the feel of his weight on me, his warm, hard body draped on mine, his musky man smell filling my senses. Memorize everything from his head to the feet all tangled up with mine right now.

I want to analyze and tuck away how I feel, cocooned and cozy. Loose-limbed and glowing. Our hearts beating together, like they belong that way.

What am I saying? I don’t know Jack DePaul. I have no business feeling anything about him. I’m just intrigued. Suffering from the new-guy-in-town syndrome.

He’s certainly different from other men I’ve met close to my age. Look at Felix. He’s almost the same age as Jack. But Felix is still a kid, figuring out who to be.

My brother, Rafe, the same age as Jack, runs the cattle herd for the family business. But he doesn’t carry the responsibility alone. Neither does Chaz with the grapefruit groves. We all have Dad to fall back on. We all answer to him.

But Jack? Jack’s his own man.

I stroke down his sides, fingers hungry to touch more. He’s so vulnerable right now, cuddled against me. Letting me see a side of him he holds back. A side I doubt he shows others very often. That’ll definitely be gone when we go back to work.

When it’s just us, though? Will he show me this tender side of himself again?

I sure hope so. I get enough of men’s confident swagger at home. Men who think tenderness and vulnerability are signs of weakness.

Who store it inside themselves until they forget to share it at all.

Jack’s on his way. Tight-lipped. Closed off.

 

 

Whispers of sensation trail over my back. I come to consciousness through a haze of marshmallow fluff—everything all sweet and tantalizing and definitely delicious.

Damn. My first time with Jillian, and I pounce on her like she’s Thanksgiving dinner. Complete with passing out after the meal.

Way to make a woman feel special. The least I could have done was push away from the table first. My weight must be crushing her.

But everything feels so good right now. If either of us moves, the spell will break. And I’m not ready for that. The way she’s stroking my back, it’s like she’s peeling away layers of weight and worry.

She must feel it, too, because when I do attempt to rise, her fingers dig into my sides. But instead of urging me to sink back into oblivion, they’re gouging me with reality.

There’s never been a time I was so wrapped up in lust for a girl that I couldn’t walk away from her. Certainly no woman has ever come close to making me lose focus on  my business.

But Jillian Vickers? I wanted her with white-hot hunger the first time I saw her. When I held her close on the dance floor, felt the way our bodies melded, I knew right then something was different about this woman. If I’d had the sense God gave a flea, I should’ve said my polite goodnights and left her right then.

Instead, I gave her a job. Virtually shackled her to me. And in return, she turned my world upside down. Made me forget who I am. How I roll.

No fraternization? Fuck me. Being brutally honest, I have to admit I’ve been searching for loopholes around my own rules since I met her.

And look where it’s landed me. In her bed, craving her as much now as I did a hour ago. I scratched that itch, and now it’s inflamed.

What am I supposed to do with that?

A phone rings, and we both startle. I roll away, and this time she doesn’t try to stop me. Grabbing the jeans we left in a furious heap not long ago, I drag out my phone. “It’s mine,” I say over my shoulder to her. “Frank?”

“An emergency meeting’s just been called. I think you should be there.”

“What’s it about?”

“Somebody’s questioning how we want to handle the s-CO2 well.”

I scrub a hand down my face. Any relaxing my body did with Jilly vanishes. “On my way.”

Phone goes back in my jeans, which I jump into.

“What is it?” Jilly asks.

“Some sort of emergency meeting at the plant.” I finish dressing and head for the door, not sure how to get away without making things awkward. More awkward.

“And they couldn’t talk to you before you left this morning?” There’s an edge of panic in her tone.

“That’s the way it is sometimes.” I turn to her, hand on the doorknob. “Jilly—”

She’s got the sheet pulled up, covering herself, hair a fiery halo cascading over her shoulders. My fist wants to bury itself in the tangled mass and pull her soft body to me. Her eyes, those brilliant jewels are currently clouded, stabbing at my guilty conscience. She deserves better than me taking everything she’s got, then dashing out the door. Deserves better than a man so twisted with confusion about her that he’s secretly glad to be dashing out the door.

“Sorry. Try to get some sleep.”

 

 

Longhorn Petroleum’s boss, Vernon Murphy, rates a slightly better conference room than the ones downstairs in the main building. The walls are still that same unappetizing beige, but at least it has real furniture instead of folding tables and chairs.

And, thank God, there’s coffee. I join Frank at the urn. “What’s up?”

“Not sure. Something to do with the process you suggested for coordinating the well activities.”

Shit. I can’t believe we’re meeting over some procedures. The man gets reports on everything twice a day. Something must have happened. Otherwise, I’m losing a lot of sleep time over nothing. Not to mention how I ended up leaving Jilly. I didn’t even feed her.

That train of thought gets derailed when Murphy enters the room. What he lacks in height he makes up for with a crisp banker-gray suit and subtle silk tie. He shakes hands as he makes his way to the head of the table, but the welcoming politician smile doesn’t ever reach his eyes. We all shuffle over to join him, Frank sitting down beside me. I greet Doug Battles with a chuck of my chin.

So, the head of Roi-Tex Construction is here, too. And, sitting next to him is that pissant who tried to throw Jilly into the pool at the party. What’s a pipefitter supervisor here for that couldn’t be handled by his boss, Doug?

“Let’s have quick introductions before we begin,” Murphy says.

The other two men I hadn’t recognized end up being the Control Room supervisor and the turbine supervisor, both day-shift people.

“A couple of things need clarification,” Murphy says, eyeballing his laptop, “and since it’s almost time for a weekly update, I thought we could roll it into this meeting, too.”

Oh, great. Nothing like giving us a heads-up to prepare. I glance at Frank, whose face is stony.

“Jack, I understand you’ve proposed a change in our procedures for converting the CO2.”

“Not exactly. Expanded upon them might be more accurate.”

The man doesn’t move a muscle, and yet he suddenly takes on the steeliness of a girder. “I thought all those details were mapped out before we began.”

“Let me walk you through what I proposed.”

“I’d appreciate that,” the Control Room supervisor, Carson, cuts in. “I got the rundown from the night shift operator, but I’d like to hear it direct.”

What, a pissing contest? This is about him not trusting his night shift manager? “That’s understandable, Mr. Carson. Here’s what Bill and I discussed.”

I run through the idea, answering Carson’s rapid-fire questions along the way.

“Will that change anything for the turbines?” Hadley, the turbine supervisor, asks.

“There will be some increased pressure.”

Frank leans forward and opens his laptop. “The specs for the new turbines y’all installed are designed to handle that. I have that data here.” He shares the info with the group.

Hadley’s head bobs. “Yes, we understood that. It’ll actually increase electrical output, with less draw on water—a scarce resource here in Texas. But you’re deviating from the plan we approved when we hired you.”

It’s true, but I brought it to Doug before our crews began making changes. Now that we’re nearly completed with the work, why is this suddenly an issue? My sphincter clenches, acknowledging the hot seat it’s sitting on. I glance Doug’s way, giving him a chance to explain so I don’t inadvertently throw him under a bus.

“AI has been in constant contact with us at Roi-Tex on this change, Vern,” Doug says. “And I’ve apprised you every step of the way.”

“Will the work be done on time?” Vernon Murphy asks.

I shoulda pegged him earlier as a bean-counter. More interested in the budget than in the project. Guess his silence in the pitch I gave his board wasn’t executive vision and delegation. He’s nothing but a fuckin’ adding machine, wrapped up with a pearly white smile and an ear to the ground.

Felix clears his throat. “I’ve studied the new plans, and I have some concerns.” He flicks a glance at me, and I have to wonder what he’s getting ready to toss my way.

“Not only will the current pipes need to be reinforced to handle the increased pressure from the extra s-CO2 output, but with the additional piping we’re installing, getting into position to do the welding is going to be a challenge. It’s gonna mean more work, of course, and that means more time. It could jeopardize the deadline.”

What the fuck? He knows about the special scaffolding designed to handle that. What bug’s got up his immature ass? Payback for tripping into the pool?

Murphy shakes his head, mouth turned down like a dark purple horseshoe in his smooth, tanned face. “The deadline’s firm.”

Doug’s eyes send an unspoken apology my way.

An odd sort of calm comes over me, like clouds settling over a mountain. Now that it’s 100 percent confirmed I’m the target of this emergency meeting, I’m not punching blindfolded anymore. “The deadline’s not changed.”

Although not smiling, Murphy’s horseshoe unbends a skosh. “Explain.”

“The scaffolding—which your men have helped install—” I give a tight nod to Felix “—was designed for that very purpose. It provides direct access to the pipes you’re talking about.”

“Felix?” Murphy asks.

He looks down at the table, head shaking. “It’s close quarters down there. Barely room to move around, much less hold a torch. Safety’s an issue.”

“First I’m hearing about it,” Doug says.

“It hasn’t been far enough along ‘til now for us to evaluate.”

I lean back in my chair. “I’ll go down first. I’ll even weld a pipe while I’m there. Then I’ll send my men down, and they’ll do some welding. We’ll know exactly how dangerous it is before any of your men go into that well.”

A silent battle’s waged between him and me, blood pulsing beats in my ears as I wait for him to back down. He swallows, and his Adam’s apple bobs. “All right.”

“And you’ll help any way you can,” Doug adds, nailing his pipefitter with a frosty warning.

Felix shifts slightly. “Of course. We want this project to be successful. And I want my men safe.”

Doug nods, and his face softens somewhat. “Understood. In the meantime, just keep ‘em working on the jobs we talked about on the current schedule.”

“Speaking of that,” Murphy says, “update me on the progress. It looks like some time has been made up?”

“Yes, sir,” I say, “The AI crew and Doug’s crew have managed to catch up a day and a half of the work that was trailing behind. Barring the unforeseen, everything’ll be caught up by the beginning of next week.”

That seems to make the refinery boss happier. His mouth has relaxed into a straight line. “Good to hear. I understand there’s been a problem on the night shift with materials disappearing?”

Wonder where he got that info? I swipe Felix with a jaundiced eye and have my answer from his face and its sudden flush. “Some. Little things.”

“Any ideas who’s causing it?” the boss asks.

“Not really. There doesn’t seem to be much rhyme or reason to it.”

“Look into it,” Murphy commands, looking between Doug and me. “I understand an entire tool kit had to be replaced. That’s time and material lost, with nobody knowing how or why, in spite of all the security camera coverage. Doesn’t make me feel comfortable.”

Yeah, that had to be Felix, damn him. From the night he drove Jilly over to Corpus. He’s churning up the refinery boss for no good reason. If she couldn’t go alone, I should have sent Danny with her. “We’ll get to the bottom of it.”

So now, on top of everything else in the schedule, we’ve got to be detectives.

“I’ve asked Security to step up, too,” Murphy says.

“Sounds good.” I start to push away from the table.

“One more thing. How’s the journalist working out? I understand she interrupted your work in the Control Room a couple of days ago?”

My teeth grind, and I spear Carson with a glare. He’s looking at Murphy, surprise on his face like it’s news to him, so where’s this coming from? The nighttime Control Room operator, I guess. “She’s working out fine.”

Murphy nods again. “As badly as I want that article to go out, the job comes first. She’s a very pretty young lady. Don’t let her be a distraction.”

A red haze suddenly colors my world. He challenges everything we’ve done so far, listens to every rumor, and now he’s calling me on the carpet because of Jillian? He couldn’t have handled that in private? “Not a problem.”

“Keep it that way for another week. Okay, everybody, anything else? If not, back to work.”

If I move, I may punch something. It’s a toss-up as to what or whom. Enemies and spies on all sides.

But actually, I have only myself to blame for Jilly being here. And now I’ve gone and slept with her, too. How many kinds of fool can a man be? Seems I may have invented a couple.

Frank closes up his computer, then lays a hand on my forearm. “Let’s go.”

“Damn straight.”