she threw her car into reverse and backed up, slamming on her brakes when she heard a screech and a honk, and glanced in her rearview mirror.
Now she’d nearly been hit from behind. An angry-looking driver jerked his car around hers, and Tracy tried not to lip-read the names he was calling her. She was ready to retrieve Hannah from day care and go home. Today seemed like a good day to camp out on the living-room floor with a game of Candyland, a double batch of fudge and a half dozen of Hannah’s favorite videos. Every parent and child needed quality time together.
After the driver she’d nearly hit had disappeared back into the traffic, Tracy shifted her car into gear and crawled on past her spot. There wasn’t another vacant space for a couple of blocks.
With a deep sigh, Tracy pulled into it. She wouldn’t even attempt to carry the box of forms so far by herself. She’d have to leave them in the trunk until later, and walk to work in her skirt and heels.
She’d told Booker this type of clothing wasn’t practical for a glorified messenger, but he had prevailed. His favorite saying was that in business, image was everything. He’d said a woman’s femininity was often a viable selling point and had advised Tracy to dress for the job she aspired to rather than the one she had.
Since she had hopes of being promoted to full consultant, she was inclined to bow to his wishes.
The whistle she received from a passing driver as she walked down the busy sidewalk only made her madder. By the time she reached the dusty black motorcycle, she wanted to shove it off its big bad tires. Suddenly, hog seemed an appropriate term. She glared at it as she juggled her armful of reports to one hand and whirled around to go inside.
The door to her boss’s private office was open, so she called out, “I’m here. Did you see the hairy beast who stole my spot? I nearly ran over his motorcycle.”
There was a lengthy pause, then Booker’s voice drifted out. “Come in here, Tracy.”
Tracy threw the reports on her desk and kicked her shoes under her desk before she headed back. “I had to park two blocks away,” she said on the way in. “I’d love to grind my foot into that imbecile’s—”
Tracy stopped when she reached Booker’s doorway. This time, she wasn’t noticing something that reminded her of Riley.
She was seeing Riley, himself.
He was sitting in Booker’s plush client’s chair with a helmet balanced on his knees. He grinned that wicked, lopsided grin as he stared at her feet. “Where were you planning to put those sassy red toes?”
Tracy looked down at her feet. The polish was not red, it was pink. Rowdy Rouge, to be precise. She stuck her thumbnail between her teeth and grimaced at the taste of the anti-nail-biting cream she’d rubbed in this morning. Drawing her hand back down, she looked across at Riley, whose smile had spread to both sides.
He looked out of place in Booker’s office. Even in creased dress pants and a collared shirt, he seemed too dangerous to occupy a space so tame.
Her boss cleared his throat. Tracy dragged her gaze to Booker’s most violent frown. He motioned to her feet and mouthed for her to put her shoes on.
She did the only thing she could do.
She walked in three steps farther and sat in the third chair. “It’s okay, I know him,” she said to Booker.
Then she turned her head slightly and looked down her nose at Riley. “Why are you here?”
Riley’s smile revealed an even row of white teeth. Which held her complete attention until a firm grip on her arm wrenched her out of her chair.
“Excuse us, please.” This was from Booker, who hauled her out the door and all the way across the office. He didn’t stop until they were secluded by the coatrack next to the front door. Leaning close, he said, “What are you doing?”
Tracy tossed her head back toward Booker’s office. “He’s bad news.”
Booker backed up a step and looked at her as if she had a row of Rowdy Rouge toenails growing out of the bridge of her nose. “Oh, really?”
“He probably just came here to torment me.”
“Not exactly.” Booker stood up straight and cleared his throat. “He came to hire you.”
She sniffed. “Why would Riley need a consultant?”
Booker paused, and Tracy finally processed his statement. “You don’t mean hire Vanderveer’s?” she whispered.
Booker had crossed to her desk and was squatting to scavenge around on the floor. “No, I said hire you.”
“What for?” Tracy scowled across the room at the pair of trousered legs she could see inside Booker’s office. Even from this distance, they looked all wrong.
“He’s opening a civil engineering firm, and he wants help getting things going,” Booker said before he dropped to his knees, pulled back her chair and said, “Aha!”
Tracy had never seen her boss from this angle. The bald spot peeking out of his tidy brown hairstyle was disturbing.
Or maybe it was what he’d just said—Riley, starting a business in Kirkwood. Oh, no!
“Office setup, demographics, personal coaching—the works,” Booker said from beneath her desk. He held both of her shoes in one hand and used the seat of her chair to pull himself up.
“But I’ve never done a full consulting job,” Tracy said as she accepted a shoe and bent down to slip it on. “You said it could take another year to work up to that.”
“He said that he wants you, and that he’d pay a full month’s fees up front if you accept the job.”
Tracy stared at the wrinkles in her boss’s herringbone jacket. “You’d let me do it?”
“Let’s put it this way—if you take on the job and handle it well, you’ve got your toenails in the door.” He handed her the second shoe. “But you’d be wise to keep your shoes on at all times, got it?”
Tracy slumped down in her chair with the leftover shoe still in her hand. “Uh-huh.” She peered toward the corner office, oblivious now to the foul taste as she clicked her thumbnail between her teeth. Riley had tucked a leg back beside the chair and was beating his heel against the floor.
Impatiently. Powerfully.
Oh, Lord.
“Tracy, he’s waiting.”
She knew he was.
She slid out of the seat and walked slowly across the room, dangling one brown pump from her wet fingertip. Up and down all the way she glided, as fluidly as a carousel horse. As she stepped inside Booker’s office again, she turned back to her boss and said calmly, “Excuse us, Booker.”
And closed his door behind her.
Chapter Three
Remember,
