a great sense of humor. The latter didn’t matter to Brock—he was only concerned with her work attributes.
“When I decided to open another casino, I knew instantly she’d be the one to run it,” Linc had said in one of their many phone conferences. Since Jade’s last month of the pregnancy Linc hadn’t been able to travel, so he and Brock had weekly updates scheduled to go over the Gramercy II’s progress.
Building this casino had definitely been a coup for Brock because his company specialized mostly in vacation homes. Brock, along with his best friend, Kent Foster, an architect of the highest caliber, set out to create a casino unlike any ever built before in the continental U.S. And after yesterday’s walk-through he was proud to say they’d done a damn good job.
Now, he was waiting for the site manager, hoping his beautifully designed and built casino wasn’t about to go through the onslaught of female scrutiny. Granted, Kent’s wife, Josette, was an interior designer and had already been slated to work on the casino’s basic design scheme. But Brock knew Josette, had known her for more than five years now, and they worked well together. Outside of Linc’s praise, he didn’t know the site manager or how well they’d work together.
Brock was wary of strangers, outsiders from his world. Some would say that was odd having been the outsider all his life. All Brock knew was that his generally solitary lifestyle worked for him. The less interaction he had with people he didn’t know, the better.
Besides that, he didn’t want anybody coming along slowing down his progress. Linc wanted the Gramercy II up and running by September, no later than October. He wanted as much holiday money spent in the casino as possible. It was already early June. If this site manager’s eye for detail meant she was prone to start fussing about wallpapers and paints and who knew what else, then Brock and this project were definitely in for a long summer.
“Hi. I’m Noelle Vincent. I think you’re expecting me.”
Brock heard the voice and snapped out of his reverie. He’d been so focused on his thoughts, so intent on what he didn’t want this manager from the west coast to do to his casino that he hadn’t even noticed the plane had landed. With a sharp movement he turned and was quickly face-to-face with her.
She’d extended her hand and was smiling up at him, obviously waiting for him to act or get lost. He chose the former and cleared his throat. “Yes. I’m Brock Remington,” he said, reaching to clasp her hand.
Damn, it was soft.
He’d been hoping that her million-watt smile and sparkling light brown eyes weren’t actually as attractive as he’d first thought. But coupled with her soft hands and that sweet buttermilk complexion, he was dead wrong. His earlier projection was now corrected—this was going to be a long, hot summer.
Chapter 2
“Nice to meet you, Brock. Linc told me a lot about you.” She adjusted her purse and a smaller bag on her right shoulder.
“Oh, really? I don’t even want to know the specifics.”
She laughed. Brock liked the sound.
Her hair, hanging just past her shoulders in three intriguing shades of brown, all intertwined to create its own enticing rainbow, slipped back, revealing a long slender neck. Brock’s entire body heated. Even living a solitary life he still made time to enjoy a woman on occasion and this was definitely a woman he could enjoy.
With that thought his brow furrowed and his hands slipped into his pockets. The last thing he should be thinking about was enjoying the woman he was supposed to work with. He cleared his throat. “We should get going.”
“Lead the way,” she said in a voice that was way too chipper for the way he was beginning to feel.
“Wow, it’s almost as warm here as it was back in Vegas,” Noelle said the moment they stepped outside of the small airport.
Brock walked a step or two in front of her, not intending to be rude, rather trying to keep his mind on business where it should be. Although not blood related, Brock was just as intense and notorious when it came to a good-looking woman as the rest of the Donovan men.
The sound of her voice growing louder clued him in to how ill mannered he must appear, and so he slowed down until she caught up. A breeze, warm and thick, sifted through the air. The scent of her perfume went right up into his nose and he sighed.
“My truck’s just over here,” he said, directing her toward the parking lot.
As she walked beside him he noticed how tall she was. At six feet two inches, the top of most female heads came midchest to Brock. Noelle, however, was at shoulder level, which was actually the perfect kissing height. The minute that thought crossed his mind, Brock knew he was doomed.
“It was ninety-three degrees when I left Vegas, with eighty-five percent humidity,” she was saying when Brock had to blink quickly and refocus once more.
Lifting a hand she pulled her hair together, then fanned the back of her neck. “What’s it here, about one hundred percent humidity? I thought that since you were close to the Chesapeake Bay, it would be much cooler.”
Brock took a deep breath, inhaling the sultry air of which she spoke. He needed to get a grip. She just stepped off the plane and was being nothing but cordial to him and here he was with the beginnings of sexual thoughts about a woman he’d known less than ten minutes.
“The evenings are cooler,” he added, quickly cringing inwardly because he felt his remark sounded idiotic. “Here we are.” Grateful, he unlocked the doors to his Ford F-350 truck and stood at the passenger side ready to help her up.
“Great ride,” she commented, and there was that smile again.
Brock felt it, as plainly as she felt the heat, that little tug in his gut as her mouth spread wide, her high cheekbones made even higher. And her eyes—he’d heard it said before that eyes sparkled, he’d even seen it written in the poetry he’d been forced to read in his literature class in college. Yet Brock had always found the euphemism sappy and unrealistic, until today. Until Noelle.
Damn, he’s uptight, Noelle thought the minute he slammed the door.
Pulling her seat belt over her chest and making it click, she shook her head. He was also fine as hell. Normally the rugged look wasn’t her preference, but then she’d never seen a man wear a pair of jeans the way Brock Remington did. He walked with a slow precision that put you in mind of hot summer days, winding porches with white wicker furniture and tall glasses of lemonade. With his tight ass and a slow eastern drawl she’d bet there were women lined up to date him.
Okay, calm down, that’s the absolute last thing she should be thinking.
Once inside he immediately started the truck and Noelle looked out the window, giving up on casual conversation. She’d broached the usual subject, the weather, and he’d just about brushed it off, opting for more clipped answers than actual participation. So if he wanted to be quiet, she could oblige. She had a lot of things going on in her life that could bear thinking over.
Not that she was a fan of giving her problems a lot of thought. Then again, the way she’d been dealing with things so far hadn’t proved successful, so why not go for the change now?
Surprise, surprise, what should
