balance before he could touch her. She felt her face flush.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
Lori couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so clumsy. “It depends on if you’re asking me or my ego.”
At her little joke, he smiled again, slow and big. “I’m Josh,” he said, bending to retrieve the ball.
“Lori,” she answered, moving back another step.
Catcalls from the court had him glancing over her head and he tossed the basketball toward his teammates. “I’m sorry, Lori. The first apology should have been mine. I was chasing after the ball and didn’t look where I was going.”
Her breathing could finally settle down, but, funny, it didn’t. “I’m sorry too. I…overreacted.”
He shrugged, his massive shoulders moving up and down. “Can’t believe a little thing like you could overturn me like that.”
She half smiled. “I’m stronger than I look.” That was her hope, anyway.
The other men were shouting at him from the court. Lori glanced over her shoulder. “I think they want you to rejoin the game. You’re sure you’re not hurt?” Her face heated again as their tangle replayed in her mind. The man probably thought she was certifiable for going into maul-the-mugger-mode at the slightest contact.
He shook his head. “I’m fine. You might considering registering with the sheriff as a lethal weapon, though.”
Her eyebrows rose. “My hands, you mean?”
His eyebrows lifted, too. “The whole package, sweetheart.” With another of those slow smiles warming his rugged face, he touched two fingers to his forehead in a casual salute and then jogged back to his game.
Struck dumb by his good looks and almost offhand charm, Lori found herself staring after him. She was still standing there three baskets later, when despite his large size, he made a graceful, clean swish of two points and glanced over at her, grinning in triumph.
With a jerk, Lori got herself moving again, even as yet another blush crawled up her neck to her cheeks. Steering way clear of the game, she headed for the locker room.
There were some things it wasn’t smart to forget, not even for a moment. South Carolina hadn’t been safe because of a man. She wasn’t going to let the same thing happen to her here in Montana.
By the time she was back in her outerwear, she was feeling a lot less flustered. She hadn’t seen Josh at the gym before today, and she probably never would see him again. If she did, she’d ignore him. That would be simple enough.
* * *
The day after Christmas, Lori braked her car in front of a small building and opened her notebook to recheck the address she was seeking. Though a small sign declared the place was indeed Anderson, Inc., the site of her temporary job, the dark-red, wood-sided building looked more like an old schoolhouse than the office of a construction company.
But the address was the correct one, so she parked her car in the small attached lot beside a behemoth four-wheel-drive SUV, then headed for the front door. Her black boots made quiet clacks against the brick pathway. She’d teamed the boots with a long black wool skirt and a chunky black sweater. An austere look, maybe, but warm. Her roots might be in Montana, but her leaves were definitely more accustomed to the milder Southern winters.
Despite her woolen clothing, a small shiver rolled down her spine. But it was normal apprehension, not a quaking, stomach-knotting fear, thank God. She was starting the first job of her new life today, and she desperately wanted it to go smoothly.
Through the plate-glass front door, Lori spied the orangey curls of Lucy Meyer. The fortyish woman was a new mom and Lori had been hired to replace her as the receptionist while Lucy took maternity leave. They’d met once—in Lucy’s home. Her baby had just arrived—a month early—and Lucy was anxious to get someone to help “the boss” as she referred to the head of the company, Mr. Anderson, as soon as possible.
When Lori opened the door, Lucy turned toward her with a smile. “Come in, come in,” the other woman said, bustling forward with characteristic energy.
Lori walked into an expansive reception area. Centered on the wall to her right sat a woodburning stove that was pumping out pleasant heat. A large oval rag rug, in shades of red and cream, covered a honey-toned wooden floor. Several comfortable-looking chairs and a selection of magazines made the room appear even more homey.
Lucy took Lori’s coat and hung it on one of the brass hooks attached to the wall by the door. “I want to get you as familiar with things as I can before the squeaker gets hungry,” she said.
Lori smiled, her nervousness allayed by the unexpected pleasantness of the office. “Where is Baby Walt?”
Lucy jerked her head in the direction of a doorway off the waiting area. “With the boss. I’ll introduce you to him in a minute.”
Lori had only a second to peer through the indicated door, and only another to absorb a glimpse of a massive desk with a pair of giant-sized, booted feet propped atop it. Then Lucy drew her away.
“This is where you sit,” she said. Centered a few feet from the front door was an old wooden desk that looked as if it had once belonged to a schoolmistress. A computer and state-of-the-art phone system on its top appeared efficient, though anachronistic.
Lori took notes as Lucy explained the workings of the phone and the small amount of computer work the receptionist’s job entailed. Then she followed the other woman down a short hall that led to a bathroom, a large conference area and an almost-closet that held a refrigerator and coffeemaker.
They were standing in the filing-cum-supply room when Lucy suddenly stilled. “Uh-oh,” she said. “The squeaker. I’d better go rescue the boss.”
As they exited the room, Lori could hear the baby fussing herself, and a man’s deep voice trying to soothe him. Then the baby and man noises sounded louder, as if both were coming toward Lori and Lucy. Lori straightened her shoulders and smoothed her skirt, hoping she was going to like Mr. Anderson as much as she liked his office space.
Lori and Lucy turned the corner into the reception area, coming face-to-face with Baby Walt and Mr. Anderson. Lori stiffened.
Apparently Mr. Anderson was Mr. Josh Anderson.
Lori’s Josh.
Not her Josh, she amended hastily, but that mammoth Josh she’d hoped never to see again. Just that morning, she’d been relieved not to run in to him—figuratively or literally—when she’d worked out at the gym right after dawn.
His eyebrows rose in mild surprise as he transferred the baby to his mother’s arms. “Who’s your new friend?” he asked Lucy over the child’s fussing.
Lucy had eyes only for the baby. “She’s your new receptionist. I told you she was coming in today. Josh Anderson, this is Lori Hanson.”
“We’ve met,” he said.
That caught Lucy’s attention. She looked up. “What?”
Lori tried to think what
