“Something about you got my attention
from the moment we met.”
That struck her as funny. “Would that have been my bra?”
Justin grinned. “There was that. But it was only half as intriguing as the woman wearing it.”
She rolled her eyes to combat the unfamiliar thrill his words evoked.
He lifted a hand to rest on her shoulder. Gave a gentle squeeze. “Everything okay now?”
She nodded as his thumb skimmed the pulse at the base of her throat. When his touch returned to rest over the throbbing point, she felt a steady increase and knew he did too.
Curiosity killed the cat, Marley.
Cats have nine lives.
His head lowered toward hers. His gaze dropped to her mouth. The first brush of his warm lips against hers made her sway closer. She closed her eyes and lifted her chin for a better connection. When she braced one hand on his chest for support, she was shocked to feel his heart thundering beneath her palm.
His other arm slid over her hip and around her waist to pull her against him. The nerve endings in her entire body came alive, overwhelming her with unfamiliar sensations. She suddenly felt as if she’d had one too many beers on a sweltering summer night.
Then his mouth opened on hers. His hot, wet tongue slid along the seam of her lips before pushing through to her teeth. It startled her. It excited her.
Okay, so her handful of kisses had been back in the fifth grade, when a half-second peck on the lips during spin the bottle was a major deal.
This was a major deal!
No, Marley, kissing an employee is a major deal.
Praise for Stacey Joy Netzel
“[MISTLETOE RULES] is the best e-book I’ve read in a while and an absolutely delightful Christmas treat.”
~Water Lily, LASR Best Book; **1st place 2010 Write Touch Readers' Award, **Night Owl Reviewer Top Pick
“Stacey Joy Netzel has written her most compelling story yet. CHASIN' MASON is 'must-read' phenomenal!”
~Donna Marie Rogers, author of Meant To Be
“Four related tales told by two very talented authors make this anthology a keeper. With their easy, breezy style and skilled characterizations, Rogers and Netzel have created a town that readers won't want to leave.”
~Romantic Times BOOKreviews on WELCOME TO REDEMPTION (4 1/2 *Stars*); **Night Owl Reviewer Top Pick, **Dark Angel Reviews Recommended Read
“IF TOMBSTONES COULD TALK is a sweet and romantic read. The plot was brilliant and well played out. I enjoyed every aspect of the story; I only wish it were longer. Congratulations, Ms. Netzel, on a lovely tale.”
~Dark Angel Reviews (5 Stars)
“I adored DRAGONFLY DREAMS. Once I started reading, it was hard to stop. It is a tale that tugs at the heart and makes one feel the Christmas season any time of the year. Stacey Joy Netzel pens an engaging read where emotions run high and love runs deeper. So sit back and enjoy a page-turner that warms all the way to the toes. You won’t be disappointed in this splendid story.”
~Fallen Angel Reviews (5 Angels), **Nominated LASR Best Short Romance eBook 2007
Shattered Trust
by
Stacey Joy Netzel
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Shattered Trust
COPYRIGHT Ó 2011 by Stacey Joy Netzel
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by Nicola Martinez
The Wild Rose Press
PO Box 706
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0706
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Crimson Rose Edition, 2011
Print ISBN 1-60154-905-9
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
To my dear friends in WisRWA, and most especially those in the Greater Green Bay Area.
Thank you for all your encouragement and support!
Chapter 1
Justin Blake straightened in the seat of his battered Jeep when an old pickup truck slid to a stop in front of the general contractor’s trailer amidst a cloud of dust. The door flew open and bare legs flashed as a woman in an—orange?—business suit sprinted the few feet to the trailer, her skirt hiked above her knees and shoeless feet. She lugged a duffle bag up the wooden steps, unlocked the door and disappeared inside.
If she had a key, she could only be Marley Wade.
Bare feet on a construction site? He frowned. What kind of operation was she running here? His gaze narrowed on the trailer bathed in bright light as the July sun rose over the city of Boulder, Colorado. Not only did he have to pose as a construction worker in his newly inherited company, but he’d have to take orders from a woman who obviously didn’t know what she was doing.
He wished he’d had more time for research before jumping in like this, but as his brother had pointed out, they had to act fast. Only a small window of opportunity existed in which to discover if the name Jordan found scratched on the paper clutched in Granddad’s hand had anything to do with his death.
It’d barely been legible, but the first three letters appeared to be Mar and the last spelled Wade. Jordan had found two possibilities: Mark Wade, who it turned out had died three months ago in a car accident, and his daughter, Marley Wade, who’d taken over her father’s general contractor duties on this job site.
Despite a measly three hours of sleep after his flight from Toronto had been delayed, Justin knew it was now or never. If this site held the key to Granddad’s death, when everyone discovered his identity as the new co-owner of Hunter Construction, they’d clam up faster than a guilty murder suspect lawyers up. Especially Ms. Wade.
He noticed other workers starting to arrive and grabbed the letter from headquarters Jordan had given him while opening his door. Time to introduce himself to the boss. He nodded to a few of the men who glanced his way with curiosity. At the trailer, he took the steps in two strides and gave the door a brisk rap.
A muffled reply took a moment to decipher as permission to enter.
Marley Wade pulled her jeans over her hips, frowning at the interruption of her precious minutes. She expected punctuality from the men; no way could she be late.
The door creaked behind her and she spun around in surprise. Her hands froze on the button of her jeans when she saw a man pause in the doorway of her trailer. A tall, blond man who—
Belatedly realizing he stared at her white cotton bra, she snatched a tee shirt out of her bag and stepped sideways so no one else could see inside from the job site.
“I said ‘Hold on a minute’,” she snapped.
“Sorry. I, ah, I misunderstood.”
For probably the first time in her life, Marley felt herself blush as she pulled her tee shirt over her head. The accompanying flutter in her stomach set her on edge. Men didn’t embarrass her. She was just one of the guys; always had been.
And he needed to stop looking at her like she was a new set of power tools on Christmas morning. She lifted her chin and met his gaze dead-on as she pulled her ponytail free of her shirt. “What can I do for you?”
He actually had the balls to grin. Lucky for him, he kept his eyes on her face.
He stepped forward and offered a hand. “Justin Bl—uh—Blackman.”
She fit her palm against his after only a slight hesitation. A flash of surprise registered in his expression with her firm grip. “Marley Wade. I’m the general contractor.”
He released her hand and extended a folded piece of paper. “Just the person I need to talk to.”
After a glance at the letter from Hunter’s HR department, it was Marley’s turn to be surprised. Justin Blackman was reporting for his first day of work, but she hadn’t asked for any additional men on her team. Needed them, yes, but didn’t have enough in the budget to ask for another worker.
She took a step back to judge his physique. Taller than her by a few inches, probably just over six feet, he had a wide chest and incredible muscled arms showcased by a sleeveless black tee shirt. A worn pair of jeans encased his lean hips and muscular thighs.
Nice. Calendar quality nice.
She swallowed in an attempt to wet her suddenly dry mouth. What the hell? She looked at men with his build all the time without so much as a twinge of awareness. Stick to the job, Marley. She strode past him to stand behind her desk. With its expanse between them, she felt more in control. “Are you from around here?”
“Used to be.”
His clipped reply brought her head up. “You looking for a permanent position, or just passing through?”
He hesitated before answering. “I’m not sure, yet.”
At least he’s truthful. “You got references?”
“I was under the impression I was already hired.”
The words were spoken politely enough, yet she caught an edge that told her he didn’t appreciate her line of questioning. She fixed him with a level stare. “I wouldn’t care if you owned the company, Mr. Blackman, I still have final say as to who works on my job site.”
His entire body stiffened and his jaw clenched. Either he wasn’t used to answering to a woman, or he plain didn’t like it. Tough. The urge to send him packing surged forward, HR be damned, but common sense pointed out the benefits of extra manpower. Emphasis on man.
Annoyed with that last thought, she turned over the letter he’d brought from human resources, snapped a pen on top, and slid it across the desk.
“Names and numbers.”
He withdrew a piece of paper from his back pocket and advanced to hand her the slip. A neatly printed list of three names and numbers. One, a local contractor she knew to be well respected but had never met, and the other two had out-of-state numbers. Why so defensive when he’d obviously anticipated the question?
“Shall I wait outside while you call?” he inquired.
Oh, how she’d love to make him wait, but the day wasn’t getting any younger. Bright rays of sunshine struggled through the dusty window. “You brought your gear?”
“Of course.”
She gave a brisk nod and reached for one of the folders stacked on the desk corner. “Show me what you can do today and we’ll talk tomorrow. Chuck Hager is the supervisor, he’ll show you where to start. Tell him I’ll be out shortly.”
She transferred her complete attention to the folder contents, a dismissive tactic she’d learned from her father. Justin Blackman remained in front of her desk. Marley gave him a practiced absent glance and saw he looked like he wanted to say something. Like he was biting his tongue with the effort of not saying it.
“You’ll be paid for your time either way,” she assured him.
He still didn’t move. She leaned forward just enough to emphasize her authority. “Was there something else?”
His gold-flecked gaze flicked down for a split second, then rose again. “No.” He turned for the door. Almost as an afterthought on his way out, he added, “Thanks.”
The second she confirmed the click of the door, Marley sank into her chair and heaved a shaky breath. Hell and damnation. She pressed her palms to her heated cheeks. Why in the world had she agreed to give him a chance? Any man who could make her insides all jittery like this was bound to be trouble. She didn’t have these kinds of feelings; didn’t want these kinds of feelings!
Beggars can’t be choosers, Marley, and you have to get this build back on the right track. Dad would’ve expected it—demanded it even.
Her throat constricted with the thought of her father. He inflicted unbearable pressure even from the grave, but she ruthlessly suppressed her grief. She had to be as tough as any of the men out there or risk losing their respect.
****
Justin made his way down the steps, a little out of sorts, but not entirely sure why. When he’d knocked, he could’ve sworn she said to come in. Seeing her half-clothed had surprised him, and then, even after she’d donned that modest tee shirt, he had a hard time keeping his eyes from straying down again.
Not that looking at her face took any effort. Her vibrant green eyes, framed by long lashes darker than her chestnut hair, were almost as compelling as the full lips that had glistened from a swipe of her pink tongue.
Her natural, make-up free appearance was as refreshing as it was distressing. He needed to focus on her and this job site, not get distracted by the way she looked.
But there’d been something else about her, too. She’d stood toe to toe with him after being caught in an embarrassing situation. She hadn’t flown into hysterics, yelling and screaming for him to leave. Considering the way he’d stared, she justifiably could have. Most of the women he had experience with would’ve done exactly that until they figured out how to effectively manipulate the situation to their advantage.
The only sign that the situation had affected Marley Wade had been a brief flush across her cheeks. Just as quick, she’d faced him across the desk with a cool expression, and in a slightly husky voice he realized was her natural tone, she’d proceeded to give him the third degree.
Idiot that he was, he’d almost blown it by getting cocky. That crack about him owning the company hadn’t helped. His heart had stopped for a moment as he wondered what she suspected—if she knew. Then he realized she would’ve called him on it. A straightforward woman like her, Marley Wade wasn’t the type to put up with any bullshit.
Damn it. He didn’t want to like her, let alone respect her. His step slowed as that thought revealed what really bothered him. She’d passed his first test. He’d brought the list of references because in her position, he always asked for them. He just hadn’t expected her to demand them. Based on what he’d seen, it was a sure bet the couple minutes before she came out would be spent on the phone. Good thing he’d made sure the guys who’d offer up honest reports of his past job performances wouldn’t blow his cover.
It was absurd, though, to be relieved he’d pass muster when he was the one who now signed her paycheck.
****
Marley finished tying her steel-toed work boots, adjusted her tool belt where it rested low on her hips, and exited the trailer with hardhat in hand. Apparently, Justin Blackman was more than just a pretty face and damn fine body. He was a damn fine construction worker as well. She’d called two of his references and both assured her they’d rehire him on a moment’s notice.
None of which made her feel any better about her reaction to him.
Don’t make it personal, Marley.
Her father’s voice snuck through on that admonishment, and she paused to take a deep breath. She could do this, just like he’d taught her. She’d make him proud even if he wasn’t here to see it.
For the better part of the morning, she kept her distance, watching Justin work while she reviewed work orders, verified and signed for deliveries, spoke to the electrician, called the bank, and went over the schedule with Chuck Hager for the rest of the week.
Justin appeared competent and conscientious, as his references testified. Every move he made was based on efficiency, furthering his efforts without wasting motion, alleviating any doubt that he knew his way around a construction site.
Once she realized she enjoyed watching the play of his muscles as he lifted sheets of plywood, she focused her attention elsewhere. Then she found he
rself facing him across their improvised plywood picnic table as the crew broke for lunch. Marley ate with her men to show she wasn’t above them—that she was one of them; something else her dad had drilled her on.
“Any word who’s taking over Hunter?” Tom Jones asked from across the table to her left.
Marley shook her head. “Nothing official yet.”
She took another bite of turkey on whole wheat and wondered when an announcement would be made. The uncertainty had everyone on edge, especially her, though she refused to let it show.
“Last week Bonnie said she heard the old man left it all to his grandkids.”
All attention shifted to redheaded Warren, whose wife, Bonnie, worked as a secretary at Hunter Construction headquarters in Boulder’s Industrial Park. The men began offering up guesses of what would become of the company, and Marley noticed Justin’s silence. Understandable since he was new, but no time like the present to let him know how she ran things.
“All right, come on, guys. You’ll know what’s going on as soon as I do. Until then, I don’t want to hear any more speculation—that’s how rumors start. Besides, I seriously doubt anyone has anything to worry about.”
No sooner had she spoken than Nate’s blue pickup pulled into the dusty lot. She frowned as her brother slammed the door before making his way toward where they all sat at the makeshift table.
He swiped one of Marley’s carrot sticks and straddled the bench next to her. “My lunch in the trailer?”
“Yeah.” She started packing up her things as she stood. Careful to keep her voice neutral, Marley said, “I need to talk to you.”
Nate shrugged as he turned toward Tom. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
Dead silence descended upon the table. Warren discreetly rolled his eyes, Chuck looked at his watch, and Tom’s eyebrows rose. Everyone avoided her gaze except Justin Blackman, and she avoided his as her jaw clenched. She lifted her cooler from the table with deliberate calm and injected iron into her words. “Now, please.”
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