Worth The Effort (The Worth Series Book 4: A Copper Country Romance)

by Mara Jacobs

  And, God, he was dying to see what lie beneath those sweaters and skirts.

  Finally, she left her perch and came back to join him at the bar, thanking Linda.

  “It’s so clever how the plasterwork along the archway mimics the arch of the stage at the theater, right down to the light bulbs and scrollwork.”

  She was facing him as she said this, her back to the archway that she spoke of.

  He hadn’t even realized she’d noticed it when they’d come in. And he sure as hell hadn’t expected her to pick up on the tie-in to the architectural design of the Calumet Theater, though he’d planned on pointing it out to her.

  “When was the last time you were at the theater?” he asked, as he took a sip.

  “Hmmm. Probably three summers ago. Charlie and I saw some old-timer who came in for a concert. We’d never heard of him before, but he was pretty good. The place was packed.”

  Sawyer didn’t want to ask who the artist was. No doubt it’d be someone he’d heard of. And then something she said struck him. “Charlie from the firm, Charlie? From just now at the site, Charlie?”

  “Mmm-hmm,” she answered. She’d swiveled in the stool and was now facing the archway, her back to him.

  Damn, he wanted to see her face as he asked, “Are you and he…a…thing?”

  Body language counted for a lot, and hers had noticeably stiffened, but he wasn’t sure why.

  She spun back around quickly, stopping herself by catching the rung of his stool, her foot placed between his.

  “That kiss you planted on me in front of the Commodore would have ended with a slap to the face instead of me…”

  “Participating?” he offered up.

  She waved his spot-on description away. She was becoming animated now, a tiny bit riled, and he had to admit he liked that in her. Oh, he liked the clear-headed, logical engineer in her too, but when she was like this, with a flush coming to her face and a heat in her eyes…

  “Whatever. And I certainly wouldn’t have…umm…initiated anything in your truck on Saturday if I were with Charlie. Or anyone, for that matter.”

  “I know that,” he said softly. It was true. He didn’t know her that well, but he inherently knew she wouldn’t be making out with him if she were seeing someone. She just wasn’t the cheating type.

  She was about to go on, and though he liked her fire, he reached out and took her hand in his, laying them both on her thigh. “I know that. I do. I don’t even know why I said it.”

  She calmed at that, her head dropping just a little as she stared at their joined hands. She didn’t pull hers away.

  “Well,” he said, “I guess I do know why I asked. I saw the way he looked at you today.”

  “How did he look at me?” she asked, but not in a real way. She knew. On some level, she knew.

  “He’s got a thing for you.” As the words came out of his mouth, he realized he could have easily switched the opening pronoun to “I” and the statement would still be true.

  Thank God, Deni didn’t realize it.

  “I know,” she said quietly, then lifted her head to look at him. “He’s never said anything. Or made any kind of move. And he’s my best work friend.” She ran her hand through her hair, tossing the mass over her shoulder. The wind on the hill had ruined her neat ponytail, and she’d taken it out of its holder on the way to Calumet.

  He liked her cute ponytails, but dear lord, it was beautiful loose and flowing like now.

  “He’s actually kind of my best friend, period,” she said, pulling his thoughts back.

  “But he’d like to be more.”

  She nodded, tentative. “I don’t know that for sure. And I’d never do anything to hurt him. I just don’t…you know…feel that way about him.”

  She quickly glanced at him, then away. He leaned toward her, his thighs bracketing her legs. Letting go of her hand, he placed his on her thigh and squeezed. “What way? What way don’t you feel about Charlie?”

  He was baiting her, but not in a cruel way. And even though he’d been the one to call a stop to their night on Saturday—a move he’d kicked himself for all day Sunday—he needed to hear her say it.

  “The way I’m starting to feel about you,” she said softly, but firmly, looking him straight in the eyes.

  God, so brave. So much braver than he was. He wouldn’t leave her hanging, not for being so honest.

  He brought his other hand to her leg and slid both hands down and around to the back of her knees, as if holding her in place. “Me too,” he told her.

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Then why’d you bail on Saturday?”

  He didn’t think he could adequately explain what seeing her mittens had done to him, but he wanted to try.

  And that feeling—wanting to try with a woman, to communicate with her, to make her understand him—was so long dormant that it took a moment for him to recognize it.

  “While I was brushing off your car, I got…blindsided by memories. It really shook me, and I knew I couldn’t go home with you.” He moved his hands up a little on the back of her thighs, the wool of her skirt catching ever so slightly on his rough palms. “Much as I wanted to,” he added.

  She studied him, much like she’d just studied the stained-glass canopy. Her head turned from one angle to another, as if checking him for cracks and imperfections.

  Both of which he had in abundance, but they probably didn’t show much on the outside.

  “I did some thinking yesterday,” she said.

  His thumb, which had been stroking the top of her thigh, stilled. Had he blown this whole thing before it had even started? And though that idea would have been fine just three or four days ago, it now sent a chill through him much like the wind on Quincy Hill had.

  “And?”

  “I know I said I wanted you to kiss me. In the truck…”

  He reluctantly nodded for her to go on. It sounded like regret in her voice. Shit.

  “And I was telling myself all the way home from Iron Mountain how it would be so nice to just have a little…snack.”

  “Snack?” He grinned at her euphemism. Oh, he’d definitely planned on snacking on her. Until he’d seen Molly’s mittens.

  “Yes, snack.” She gently swatted his arm, but then kept her hand on his forearm. “Not that way. In the sense of…not a full meal. Nothing heavy. Just a little something to squash the hunger pangs.”

  “Okay.” He wasn’t sure where she was going with this, but he didn’t think he was going to like it.

  “But then on Sunday I started thinking.”

  “That does not sound good.”

  She smiled, and that tiny dimple appeared on her left side. Adorable. “I’m not really a snacking kind of person. I like regular meals. And as tempting as in-between-meal snacks can be…” She took a deep breath, raised her hand, and gently touched his cheek. “I thought it would be good for me. But now I think that it would probably just ruin my appetite.”

  Panic. Sheer panic coursed through him. But he couldn’t tell which emotion was stronger—the urge to flee at the idea of a woman wanting more from him than he had to offer, or the thought of Deni walking out the door and never kissing her mouth again.

  He reached up and took her hand from his face, turning it and placing a soft kiss on the middle of her palm. He was just about to agree with her, to tell her he admired her honesty and her ability to see so clearly what he would have gladly ignored.

  Instead, he said, “I can try to be more than a snack. I can’t promise appetizer through dessert, but I want more than just a snack, too.”

  He wasn’t sure who was more surprised by his statement. Judging by her look, she probably was.

  “I mean it,” he said quietly, and realized that he truly did. “I won’t make promises because quite honestly I don’t know what I even have to offer a woman these days. It could end up being a sloppy Joe with chips, but I don’t just want a snack with you, either.”

/>   Deni curled her hand, holding on to his, and then set them both down on his thigh. They were already close, but she leaned just that much closer so that her lips were almost—almost—on his.

  “I happen to like sloppy Joes,” she whispered, then briefly touched her lips to his before pulling back.

  He leaned after her, but she was already scooting off the stool. “But first we have to figure out how to harness the wind.”

  He watched as she gathered up her things, tossing him a knowing smile. Sawyer felt the ice that had been around his heart for ten long years start to melt.

  Chapter Twelve

  One has to watch out for engineers—they begin with the sewing machine and end up with the atomic bomb.

  ~ Marcel Pagnol

  “That was on Monday?” Alison asked Deni at her regular session Friday morning.

  “Yes.”

  “And how has the rest of the week gone?” Alison kept her calm, cool professional tone, but Deni noticed just a hint of a smile as she asked the question.

  “We’ve been working nonstop on the project. First with Mac and Charlie on development, then with Larry and Gerry on costing. So, we’ve been together every day, but not…you know…together.”

  “It’s okay to take things slow.”

  “I know. And it’s been great working with him. God, I love how his mind works. Sometimes it just amazes me.”

  “His body ain’t so bad either,” Alison mumbled softly to herself, but Deni still heard her.

  “Umm…are you complaining about the body you’re going home to?” Deni said, and then instantly regretted it. Alison hadn’t meant for Deni to hear her. Had Deni crossed a line?

  “A-men, sister,” Alison said, smiling at her, though looking a little embarrassed. At Deni’s snort of laughter, and then her struggle to cover it up, Alison said, “Listen Deni, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable during therapy. And the fact is we may be seeing more of each other out of this room if Petey is working with your firm. I’d like to continue on and I can keep a professional attitude. But…I’m…sometimes very different when I’m not in this chair. Just so you know.”

  “Different how?” Before last week, Deni had never really thought of her shrink outside of the office, but assumed she’d be the same capable, nurturing, sensible person who sat across from her now.

  “Well, I think it’s safe to say that my friends would call me a complete smartass.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep. And it’s no secret around town that I’ve never had great luck with men.” She looked away from Deni then, out the huge window. A small smile crept across her face, and Deni knew what she was thinking.

  “Until now,” Deni supplied for her.

  Alison nodded, turning back. “My point is therapists are people too. And you may see a side of me that you didn’t see before. And that side of me—the personal side—wasted a lot of time with the man she loved because she wasn’t able to articulate what she wanted and what she needed from said guy.

  “That’s why I’m so impressed with you for laying it on the line the way you did with Sawyer. Letting him know you wanted more and setting your expectations. I wish I could have been that direct many times.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh, yeah. I’m really impressed.”

  Deni inwardly preened. “I really like him—I mean as a person. And I wanted to be honest with him. I’ve never really been good at the whole yin and yang of flirting and dating. It just always seemed more logical to say something.”

  “That’s the engineer side of you.” As Deni was about to object, Alison added, “It’s a great side. Trust that side.”

  The rest of their session went about like normal and wrapped up with the assessment questions Alison always asked. And then she reminded Deni about last week’s “assignment.”

  “It was business, so I’m not sure if it counted, but going to Green Bay for the day with Sawyer and making out in his truck should qualify for going somewhere new and different.”

  “Making out in a truck wouldn’t be considered too different for most Yooper girls.”

  Alison was a smartass. How fun.

  “But it qualifies for you.”

  “It sure felt out of my comfort zone.”

  “Uncomfortable?”

  Deni thought about that. “Yes. But in a good way, you know?”

  Alison nodded. “This week I’d like you to try wearing something different.”

  “You don’t like how I dress?” As soon as she’d said it, Deni knew she’d sounded like a middle-school girl thinking she didn’t pass judgment.

  “I like how you dress very much. You have a nice, understated style. And I wish I could do the cool things with scarves that you do.”

  “Pinterest.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good to know. So no, don’t change your style. This is all about stepping out of your comfort zone again.” Deni must have been showing the discomfort she felt, because Alison held up a hand and said, “I’m not talking about sexing it up or anything. More like an orange tee-shirt, or those socks that have toes in them.” She waved her hand again. “Whatever. It may be something in your closet already. I’m not saying you have to go on a shopping spree or anything.”

  “Good,” Deni said, relieved.

  “Does the idea of going shopping seem daunting to you?”

  Deni nodded. “Yes. It just feels exhausting, you know?”

  “That’s the SAD. It’ll pass, or at least ease, and you’ll find that everyday tasks just feel normal again, not daunting.”

  “I have noticed it’s not as hard getting out of bed in the mornings.”

  “That’s good,” Alison said, though she was probably thinking the same thing Deni was—that Sawyer Beck being back in the office had a little something to do with that.

  She grabbed some lunch and ate in her cubicle, answering email until late afternoon when Petey Ryan came in the office with Sawyer and Andy. They’d planned on taking him to lunch to walk through the team’s ideas and then coming back here to present the proposal and show him the mock-ups that they’d been working on all week.

  And it had felt like all week. They’d been at the office night and day, trying to pull this together quickly so, if accepted, they could be in place to start construction as soon as the snow melted.

  Which could be as soon as four weeks, but would probably be more like seven.

  She’d told Alison how much she’d liked working with Sawyer. She could have gone on and on about his creative—yet practical—thinking on this project, about his take-charge attitude, and about how damn fine his shoulders and ass looked as he wrote on the whiteboard.

  All equal turn-ons to her.

  There’d been a few stolen kisses throughout the week when they were absolutely sure no one was around. But those times were few and the kisses short and unsatisfying. They shared many more stolen glances than kisses. Deni would often look up from her laptop and see Sawyer staring at her, which made her uncomfortable at first, but then only made her feel warm and full of anticipation.

  They’d ordered most meals in, eating in the conference room that Sawyer had commandeered for the week. But Mac, Charlie, and Andy were usually there, too.

  Sawyer must have been staying somewhere in town since they worked so late, and he’d be back by eight each morning, freshly shaved and with Lucy in tow.

  After this meeting with Petey, Deni wasn’t really sure what would be happening with them, but the too-long touches that Sawyer gave her when passing her a file told her that he was feeling the same things she was.

  As the three men made their way to the conference room, Sawyer’s gaze sought her out. When their eyes met, she saw a subtle softening of his features, and he motioned for her to join them, which was normal for something like this since she was the second on the project.

  She got up from her cube, grabbed her laptop, tablet, and pen, and made her way to the confer
ence room, Lucy at her heels. Whenever Sawyer wasn’t around—and even sometimes when he was—his dog stuck to Deni like glue.

  Sawyer’s welcoming smile as she entered the room helped put any butterflies about the presentation at ease. As did Petey’s comment of, “Finally, the brains behind the whole operation. Now I can get some questions answered.”

  Everyone chuckled and settled in. Petey sat where he’d be able to see the screen. Deni opened up the PowerPoint deck they’d added to all week and she’d polished up late last night. She motioned to Andy that she was ready.

  “Well, we hit the broad strokes over lunch, Petey. Now we want to show you the specifics,” Andy said, then nodded at Deni to move on to the next slide.

  “Actually, you know what?” Sawyer interrupted. “Deni, why don’t you take the lead on this one? You don’t mind, do you, Andy?”

  “Umm.” Andy stalled, looking at Sawyer and then Deni. She’d presented to clients before but never on a project this large, and never when a senior project manager was in the room—let alone the two partners.

  Ignoring Andy’s look of confusion, Sawyer said to Petey, “She knows this inside and out. She’ll be the best one to explain it all.”

  Deni flashed Sawyer a look. He knew it much better than she did. He nodded to her laptop. She looked at Andy, who only shrugged.

  “Yeah, this is good,” Petey said. “I like having things explained to me by women much smarter than me. It’ll feel like being at home.”

  They all laughed and the moment of unease passed. Petey Ryan was no dummy, either.

  “Well,” Deni began, “this is how we can make the brutal winds on Quincy Hill keep your costs down and make your business viable.”

  Two hours later, they were still going over the renderings. They’d placed one of the 3D models up on the screen, rotating it this way and that. Petey and Sawyer were standing, moving back and forth from the screen to the papers now littering the table.

  “Okay,” Petey said, stretching his enormous back. “I think I’ve got it. It’s actually fucking brilliant. Darío and I never would have thought of wind power.”

  Deni stole a glance at Sawyer, who was watching her. She couldn’t help herself and broke into a large grin, which he returned.