ASHFORD (Gray Wolf Security #5)

by Glenna Sinclair

  “I’m sorry,” I mumbled without looking up.

  “No problem,” he said, his voice so deep that it seemed to reverberate through me. And it was filled with so much humor that I had to look up just to make sure he wasn’t laughing at me.

  Damn, he was tall.

  There were very few guys who made me really look up. At five eight, I’m pretty much on eye level with most guys my own age. Now. In high school, I towered over most of the guys in my class, including the one boy I loved from the moment I set eyes on him. I always felt like a freak standing next to him, which is probably why nothing ever happened between us—even when he asked me to the prom my junior year. But this guy…I had to step back a little to look him in the eye without having to tilt my head back.

  And handsome. He had dark hair that was a little on the long side, big, wavy curls just touching the back of his collar. He had gray eyes that brought to mind the word steel, but they were so filled with kindness that I couldn’t quite assign that designation to them. He had a solid jaw that could be called square, but it soften as it moved into his chin. There was a dimple in one cheek. I’d always loved dimples on guys. It made them so approachable. And solid. He was wearing a pair of old jeans that were splattered with mud and a t-shirt that looked like it had seen better days. It was tight, hugging his chest and arms in a way that defined his muscles with an I-have-to-touch-that sort of emphasis.

  “Sorry about that,” he said, squeezing my arm before letting go.

  “It was my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

  “Well, no harm done.” He smiled, that dimple growing deeper, wider.

  “Let me show you to the elevator,” Ms. Tarek said, coming up alongside this handsome stranger. She didn’t seem too inclined to introduce me, and I couldn’t really blame her. I think she was so disgusted by my qualifications that she just wanted to get rid of me. I nodded politely to Mr. Handsome and followed her down the hall.

  She stabbed the button for the elevator. When it opened, she looked at me but didn’t seem interested in a long goodbye. I just nodded and climbed into the elevator. The last thing I remembered—and I should have seen it as a warning of what was to come—was her stern expression and Mr. Handsome smiling thoughtfully as the elevator doors closed.

  ***

  “What was I thinking? I knew it was a waste of time.”

  “But it got you off the horse,” my friend, Lisa, said later that night over drinks at the bar where she works.

  “I felt like an idiot. She asked me what I did at Starbuck’s, and I could see her interest in me just slip away with the first syllable out of my mouth.”

  “Her loss if she couldn’t see what a great asset you would have been to the company. It’s brand new, isn’t it? I can’t imagine they can be all that picky about whom they hire the first year or two of business.”

  “Yeah, well, they seem to be doing quite well for a business that’s only existed for seven months. I mean, they already have two projects finished, and I read on their website that they have five more near completion. That’s pretty impressive for a construction company.”

  “I suppose. But they would have been much better off with you among their rank.”

  I shook my head. While I was grateful for Lisa’s encouragement, I knew I’d made a mistake by applying there. I let my desperation to save my aunts’ house color my logic. It was just hard to accept the fact that my poor, elderly aunts were going to have to leave the home they’d lived in their entire lives.

  “At least you met a guy.”

  I snorted. “A guy whose name I didn’t even get. And he was so…” An image of him filled my mind again, nearly taking my breath, as it had when I was standing in front of him. “He’s way too far out of my league.”

  “No one is out of your league unless you want him to be. At least, that’s my philosophy.”

  Yes, well, this was coming from the girl who dated everyone from the president of the chess club to the star quarterback of our high school football team. She was not incredibly picky about the men she dated. Last week, she went out with a forty-year-old divorcé who cried about his children all through dinner. And she slept with him. Told me it was because she felt sorry for him. And, predictably, she never heard from him again. Probably went back to his wife. But that didn’t seem to faze Lisa. She had a date in less than an hour with one of her customers here at the bar.

  I lifted my drink and swallowed more than I’d intended to. Life really sucked sometimes. I wasn’t looking forward to going home and telling my aunts I’d failed them.

  Lisa touched my shoulder. “Don’t look so down in the dumps, kiddo. Something will happen for you. I have a good feeling.”

  I pressed my hand to hers. “I wish I had your optimism.”

  “You don’t need it. I’m optimistic enough for the both of us.”

  I kissed her cheek as I stood to leave. “Call me tomorrow. Let me know how your date went.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come along? I’m sure he could find a friend…”

  “No, thanks.”

  I walked out of the bar into the cool evening air, a surprisingly mild start to a North Texas summer. I walked slowly down the street, taking small enjoyment from the exercise. I’d been on my feet most of the afternoon, thanks to my job, but it was nice to stretch my legs, and to do it at my own pace without someone yelling at me for taking too long to present them with a latté or a cappuccino. I wished I knew an easy way to get my hands on two hundred fifty thousand dollars. Or just the thirty thousand my aunts were behind. Maybe I could call the bank again, convince them to give my aunts another extension. They were nice. That Mr. Simons really didn’t want to foreclose on two old ladies. But I’d gotten the impression the last time we talked that his hands were quickly becoming tied on the issue.

  Where would my aunts go when the house was gone? I’d thought about approaching the subject of an assisted living center. They could have their own apartment but have people nearby to help them. I mean, they were still pretty capable. But they needed my help more and more lately—paying the bills, reminding them to turn off the burners in the kitchen, helping them find their glasses, reminding them to take their medications—I didn’t like the idea of them living completely alone. But putting them into some sort of assisted living seemed like labeling them incapable, and I didn’t like that, either.

  I didn’t know what to do. But I knew I had to make a decision soon, or someone else would make it for me.

  Chapter 2

  “Watch out. Hot one just walked through the door.”

  I rolled my eyes at Beth, as I grabbed the latté from her hand and turned back to the drive-thru window. “Here you are,” I said with a smile to the harried woman in the minivan. “Have a great day.”

  She smiled gratefully just as a kid in the back seat screamed, “Mom, he hit me!”

  I wanted to sympathize with her, but I was actually a little envious. I never had siblings, no cousins or anyone else who was my age whom I might have fought with or giggled with or whatever. Lisa had four brothers, but we always locked ourselves in her bedroom, or she came to my house, so I didn’t have much of that at her house, either. So, yeah, I was a little envious of the harried mother.

  I turned away to answer the drive-thru intercom, just as Beth came up beside me again.

  “You know him?”

  “Know who?” I asked, as I pressed the buttons on the computer that corresponded with the new order.

  “The guy at the front counter. He asked if you were working.”

  I leaned back even as I asked the customer to drive forward, peeking around the corner to see who Beth was talking about. And there he was, Mr. Handsome, the guy I literally ran into at my ill-fated job interview. It’d been a week, and I had yet to hear from Ms. Tarek, but I wasn’t really holding my breath. I knew I didn’t get the job. A phone call telling me I didn’t get it would just be insult added to injury.

  But w
hat was he doing here? How did he know he could find me here?

  “Do you know him?” Beth asked again.

  “I met him last week. But I don’t know what he’s doing here.”

  “Go ask him and find out.”

  She slid the headset off of my head and pushed me in the appropriate direction even as I began to protest. And then he saw me and smiled, watching me as I approached the counter.

  “Hi,” he said before I could get a word out. “I hope you don’t mind my coming here. I had something I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “Is this about the job?”

  “No,” he said, his eyes falling a little. “Unfortunately, we already filled that position.”

  “Oh.”

  He must have seen something in my face because he looked uncomfortable for a second. He glanced at something behind me then cleared his throat. “I was wondering if I could take you to dinner, actually.”

  “Yeah?”

  He focused on me again. “Yeah. Would you be available tonight? Kind of early, if you don’t mind, because I have to be on site at six tomorrow morning.”

  “Yes. I can do that.”

  “Great. How about I pick you up here after your shift?”

  “I actually get off in about an hour.”

  “Then I’ll hang around,” he said.

  I nodded, not sure what else to say. He’d just asked me out! My heart was pounding, and my mouth didn’t seem to know how to work. So I stammered a second as I walked backward, nearly walking straight into one of the coffee machines. Beth saved me at the last second, grabbing my arm and pulling me back over to the drive-thru cubby.

  “Did he just ask you out?”

  I looked at her and began to laugh, pressing my hand to my mouth to keep him from hearing.

  “I wish I was you. Never thought I’d say that,” Beth said as she wandered over to the window to hand a customer her drink.

  “Gee, thanks.”

  Thank God we were busy. I was rushing around so much that I only got to steal one or two glances at him. And those glances—he was so beautiful! I wanted to just stand there and stare at him for hours and hours. He sat next to the window and stared at his cellphone most of the time. The light behind him, the way his eyelashes made little shadows on his cheeks…I don’t think I’d ever seen a man quite like him before. And he wanted to go out with me. Every time that thought crossed my mind, my heart pounded, my hands shook, and I nearly splashed hot coffee on myself more than once.

  “Get out of here,” Beth told me the moment the clock read five.

  “Are you sure? You don’t want me to wait for Kyle?”

  “No. Go. I’ll cover the drive-thru till he comes in.”

  I slipped away before she could change her mind. I went into the bathroom and washed my face in the sink, running my fingers through my hair and then twisting it back into the knot I’d worn it in most of the day. It looked a little messy, a little too unwashed, but it would have to do. I pulled mascara and lip gloss from my bag, trying to improve my pale countenance a little. I wasn’t really one of those girls who wore makeup all the time—my aunts insisted it wasn’t necessary because I had the Giles family perfection when it came to skin—but a little makeup on special occasions couldn’t hurt. Right?

  I really wished Lisa was here with her bag of magic tricks that included an entire drug store full of makeup selections.

  I stared at myself in the mirror. I couldn’t imagine what he might see in me that inspired him to come all the way here to take me to dinner. My skin was always too pale, my freckles so dark against that pale skin that they looked like little marks made by the tip of a dark pen. My nose was too long, too thin. My eyes too wide and green. I liked my hair, most days. It was a deep mahogany that was naturally long and thick, much to Lisa’s chagrin. It was the one thing she had always openly envied while I envied her perfectly tanned skin, her blond hair, and her boyish curves. She looked like a supermodel, the kind of girl every guy I’d ever met wanted. But me, I had too many curves and there was nothing boyish about them. Lisa and I could share clothes, but I was always stretching out her sweaters, and her skirts tended to be a little short on me.

  I was not the kind of girl a guy like Mr. Handsome could possibly want. Yet, he was outside waiting for me.

  I shoved my apron in my bag and tucked my blouse into my jeans. That was about as good as it was going to get.

  He was still staring at his phone when I walked up to his table. I waited for him to notice me, a little reluctant to interrupt what looked like something important if his slight frown was any indication.

  But then it took him so long to look up that I was beginning to feel like a fool. Other customers were staring, a couple of college girls whispering and pointing. I cleared my throat.

  “Hey,” he said, that frown instantly disappearing as his eyes moved over me. “You ready to go?”

  “Whenever you are.”

  He immediately stood and slid that phone into his back pocket. “I’m parked out back,” he said, gesturing for me to lead the way.

  There was a pickup truck and a BMW at the back of the parking lot. I assumed the pickup truck was his. I mean, it seemed like a reasonable assumption. He was a construction worker dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. So, I was more than mildly surprised when he walked to the Beemer.

  He opened the passenger side door and gestured widely with his hand.

  “You first, my lady.”

  “Why thank you, sir.”

  I climbed in, afraid to touch anything. The last time I’d ridden in a Beemer, I accidentally reset all the preprogrammed radio buttons. Granted, I was five, but it was still one of my least proud moments. So I sat on my hands until he opened the door. Then I pulled them out and clutched them in my lap, afraid he’d think I was odd if he saw me sitting on my hands like a five year old.

  We drove in awkward silence for a few minutes. I didn’t know what to say. And he didn’t seem too inclined to lessen the awkwardness by saying something to break the silence. Before I knew it, we were pulling into the parking lot of a popular restaurant.

  “Is this okay?” he asked. “Do you like pasta?”

  “Sure.”

  He got out of the car and came around to help me. He took my hand, and his skin was so soft, so warm, that thoughts I probably shouldn’t be having this early—like the thought of how nice that hand would feel on my belly, between my thighs—were surging through me until I had to bite my lip, hoping that little bit of pain would bring my thoughts back to the practical.

  After we were seated, he ordered a nice bottle of red wine, and we both settled on the shrimp scampi. Suddenly, we were left staring at each other. I picked up my wine glass and sipped a little of the cool liquid, quite impressed with the dry, but not bitter taste.

  “I guess you’re wondering why I invited you to dinner.”

  “I was curious.”

  He pressed his hands to the table and stared at them for a minute, as though he was nervous. Then he looked up at me, his eyes searching my face for a second.

  “Do you remember when you filled out the paperwork for the application to work at Thorn Construction?”

  I nodded.

  “There was a nondisclosure clause in all of that.”

  I remembered. I thought it was kind of odd that it would be included, but I signed it because I really wanted the job. The fact that he was bringing it up now made me wonder if this was more than just a simple date.

  “The clause is still in effect even though you weren’t offered a job.”

  “Okay.”

  “So what I’m about to say to you, you can’t tell anyone without penalty.”

  Apparently, I was wrong; this clearly this wasn’t a date. “Are you offering me a job?” It was the least I could hope for. Clearly, he wasn’t interested in me. I had known that part was too good to be true.

  He tilted his head slightly. “You can think of it that way.”

  But then
he picked up his glass and took a deep swallow, emptying the glass with that one gulp. He seemed nervous, and I didn’t understand why. If he was offering me a job…

  “I don’t even your name,” I said suddenly.

  He looked up, his eyes widened. “I thought you knew who I was.” And then he laughed. “Now that makes all this even more awkward.” He reached across the table, his hand outstretched. “I’m Miles Thorn.”

  My heart skipped a beat, as much from the name he offered as the hand that touched mine with strength and virility. Miles Thorn. Miles Thorn was CEO of Thorn Construction.

  I’d thought he was just a construction worker.

  At least that explained the BMW.

  He poured us both another glass of wine—I hadn’t even realized I’d finished mine—and sat back again, his eyes studying me as though he expected some sort of odd reaction. I didn’t know what to say. I mean…damn, I didn’t know what to say when I thought he was a nobody. Now that I knew he was somebody, what was there to say?

  “I hadn’t realized that Joan didn’t explain who I was the other day. I just assumed…” He laughed again as he picked up his wine glass. “My mother always did say that only fools make assumptions.”

  “She wasn’t terribly impressed with me. I think she was in a hurry to get me on the elevator.”

  Miles tilted his head slightly. “That does sound like Joan.”

  “Has she worked for you long?”

  “Joan has worked for my family in one way or another since I was a toddler. She was my father’s personal assistant. And then she moved out here—too retire—and I talked her into helping me with this new business. It was only supposed to be for a few weeks, but I can’t seem to convince her I’m capable of running things on my own.”

  “She must care an awful lot about you.”