Carol Finch – A Regular Joe: A Regular Joe / Mr. Right Under Her Nose (страница 9)

Joe held up his hands like a victim of a robbery. “Hey, don’t get defensive on me, boss lady. I’m not judging or objecting. If my grandpa was in a bland convalescent home and requested paraphernalia and memorabilia to make him feel more at home, I’d do the exact same thing. Furthermore, I’ll be glad to help you design, construct and paint whatever you need for the projects. I assume we’re working for elderly customers on a limited budget.”

“You’ll help?” Mattie smiled gratefully. “Thanks, Joe, I can’t begin to tell you how much I appreciate it.”

“But it’ll cost you,” he warned in mock seriousness. “You have to promise to fix Sunday dinner while I’m ripping lumber on the table saw and constructing curio shelves, keepsake chests and benches for the patients.”

“How do you know I can cook?”

“Boss lady, thus far I haven’t seen anything you can’t do exceptionally well,” he complimented. “From handling power tools, creating art and interior design to dealing with devious customers, you can do it all.”

She cocked her head and studied him from a different angle. “Are you buttering me up, hoping for a raise?”

“No, just stating the facts, ma’am.” Yet, there was one fact Joe was reluctant to state. He had the wild, crazy impulse to walk right up to Mattie, snatch her from her chair and kiss the living daylights out of her.

It was the damnedest thing he’d ever experienced. He, who had escorted glamorous socialites and seen his name and picture linked with a half-dozen women in tabloids, was turned on by a carpenter’s elf who had sawdust in her hair. Penny Candy Red, Frosty Glade Green, and Biscuit White were splattered on her fingers and on the hem of her T-shirt. None of that mattered. When she smiled at him it never failed to knock him for a loop and leave him wanting things he knew he couldn’t have.

“And may I say that after two days of nonstop work, without a single complaint, I can give you nothing less than a rating of exceptional on your evaluation sheet, Mr. Gray. I suspect the head honcho, lounging on his throne in the city, will applaud your work ethics.”

Joe inwardly flinched. Every time Mattie mentioned the all-powerful CEO, his conscience took a bite out of him. Maybe he should tell her the truth.

Or maybe not. Mattie lambasted the high king of woodcraft often enough that she would feel deceived and mortified. No, he was willing to bet that his Employee of the Year would take this the wrong way, wouldn’t understand why he was here, incognito.

“So, how about if I treat you to a burger and fries before I hang Gladys Howser’s painting and curio shelves this evening?” Mattie offered.

“Have you already locked up for the night?” he asked.

“Yes, right before I came back to the office. I’ll count the till and we can be on our way.”

“Fine, except I’m buying.” When she tried to protest, Joe touched his forefinger to her lips to shush her. That simple, seemingly harmless touch sent a jolt of awareness sizzling through him. Joe swore he’d been electrocuted. Her lips felt like velvet beneath his fingertip, and he had to battle another insane urge to replace his fingertip with his lips and make a feast of her.

Damn it, if he’d had the slightest idea that he’d have such an incredible reaction to Mattie Roland he never would have hired on. Now it was too late. He felt involved in this particular store, involved in her life, and in the complications she faced with her rebellious grandfather.

Of course, if he followed Pops’s advice, he’d just thumb his nose at his own rules and go for it. For sure and certain, his male body would applaud his decision.

“Buying dinner is my way of thanking you for this job, for the apartment and the chance to buck the establishment, on behalf of your grandpa, my grandpa, and everybody else’s grandparents who want to improve the quality of life during their golden years…”

His voice trailed off when her gaze lifted and locked with his. Time screeched to a halt. The office shrank and silence descended around him. Joe had the unmistakable feeling that Mattie, despite the rules and regulations, was wondering the same thing he was. Did they dare to test this mutual attraction and risk what seemed to be the makings of a beautiful friendship?

Scratch that, Joe decided. Being the devious jerk that he was, there couldn’t be a trusting friendship between them. He’d botched that up the instant he’d introduced himself as Joe Gray and allowed Mattie to confide that she thought the head honcho of Hobby Hut had lost touch with the purpose of his multimillion-dollar business.

In effect, Joe Gray was Daniel J. Grayson’s corporate spy, an internal investigator who was staking out one of his store managers. He hadn’t considered those ramifications when he came to Fox Hollow, hoping to rediscover his purpose and enthusiasm. But Mattie wouldn’t view the situation the same way he did. He could sugarcoat his actions however he wished, rationalizing that his intentions were honorable and that he had tried to guard against being catered to so he wouldn’t have to endure preferential treatment because of his title and position. However, he didn’t think any of that garbage would fly with Mattie. She would misunderstand, he predicted.

Damn, he’d dug such a deep hole that he’d need an extension ladder to climb out.

Mattie stared into the entrancing amber eyes that were embedded in that all too handsome face and heard her grandfather’s words echoing in her ears. According to Pops, every risk ignored was a chance never taken. Challenge the rules, he’d said, don’t meekly accept them. Pops advocated grabbing for the gusto.

Should she or shouldn’t she kiss Joe? This was really tricky, after all. She was the manager, and he was the hired assistant. If she up and kissed him, would he kiss her back because he thought his job might be in jeopardy or because he truly wanted to? If he kissed her—and he looked as if he, too, was pondering the prospect, for whatever reason—would he wonder if he was putting his job at risk, a job he claimed he was pleased to have.

Catch twenty-two, she thought. This was the proverbial two-edged sword, yadda, yadda.

After what seemed a century of standing on uncertain ground, wrestling with consequences, Joe traced the curve of her lips. Mattie’s knees wobbled unsteadily beneath her.

“Mattie, I think we’ll both feel a lot better if we just get this over with. You’re the boss, so you need to call a time-out from the job. It is after hours. Despite my good intentions, I just don’t think this good-buddy relationship between us is going to work. I’m too damn aware of you as a woman. Sorry, but that’s just the way it is.”

Mattie didn’t pretend to misunderstand what he meant. Apparently, they were on the same wavelength here. He was wondering, as she was, if an experimental kiss would relieve the sexual tension that had been building since he set foot in the store.

Yes, Mattie had tried to ignore the frissons of desire that assailed her when he was in close proximity. Which was like trying to ignore an emotional cyclone spinning around you all the livelong day. Impossible.

“I’m thinking that you’re thinking that you don’t want to step on a land mine of sexual harassment by kissing me,” Joe murmured huskily. “You’re probably thinking that I’m thinking I might risk losing my job—which you know I really like—if I kiss you first and you end up not liking it very much. So, what say, we meet in the middle like two consenting adults. All rules and regulations will be dispensed with for the moment. If things don’t work out, we’ll just slip back into our roles as boss and assistant, chalk this up to an experiment gone sour, and get on with our lives. Sound fair to you?”

“And if this experiment isn’t sour?” she asked, afraid to breathe too deeply for fear the tantalizing scent of him would wrap itself so completely around her senses that her brain would fog up and she’d lose the common sense she’d spent thirty years cultivating.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” he murmured, his voice rough and raspy. “The suspense is killing me, Mattie. On three. One, two—”

Repetitive, staccato raps on the glass door forced Joe and Mattie to leap apart.

“Yo, Mattie! Yoo-hoo, it’s me, Gladys Howser. Are you still in there?”

Mattie didn’t know whether to curse or bless her impatient customer. “Coming!” she hollered.

When Mattie sailed off like a flying carpet, Joe half collapsed against the desk. Damn, he probably should have kept his trap shut, but his unruly hormones had stormed his brain and executed a coup d’état. He’d wanted to kiss that cute little elf. Badly. Worse than badly, he amended. It was as if he were starving for the taste of her and wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d sampled her petal-soft lips.

“You’re nuts,” Joe said to himself, then scowled. “Just goes to show how desperately you needed this vacation from the office. Of all the glamorous women you’ve dated, you go bonkers over a tomboy who smells like paint and sawdust rather than expensive perfume, a tomboy who dresses in faded jeans and T-shirts instead of sequined evening gowns. And to complicate matters she actually works for you, despite what she thinks. She also thinks Double H is a money-grubbing executive whose bottom line is profit. Have you left anything out?