shoulders, he said something that made her laugh, and Maggie’s heart flipped right over. The jealousy-tinged reaction was disconcerting.
“Looks as if they’re getting along just fine,” she said to Dinah, unable to keep a certain edge out of her voice. “Did I get it wrong, after all? Was that what you had in mind? Not matchmaking for me, but giving Amanda a house and a man to go with it?”
Dinah gave her a knowing look that came from years of being able to read Maggie’s innermost thoughts. “What exactly are you seeing when you look at those two, Maggie?”
“Two people who are flirting with each other,” Maggie said, then couldn’t resist adding, “it’s a little unseemly, don’t you think? Didn’t Amanda just lose her husband?”
Dinah merely grinned. “The accident was almost a year ago and last I heard, flirting’s not a crime. Maybe you should give it a try, Maggie. You used to excel at it. A flirtation might loosen you up.”
“And who would you suggest I flirt with? I’m sure you have someone in mind. If not Josh, it must be someone around here. Caleb, maybe? Didn’t you learn anything after hooking me up with Warren? Caleb seems sweet, but I’m not cut out for the steady, reliable type.”
“I didn’t have anyone in particular in mind, to be honest,” Dinah said with just the right touch of sincerity. “And it doesn’t matter who you flirt with. Just do it. You need to get your blood pumping again.”
“My blood is pumping just fine,” Maggie retorted irritably.
Dinah’s grin spread as she glanced pointedly from Maggie to Josh and Amanda, then back again. “Why, yes, I believe it is. Jealousy sometimes has the same effect.”
With that insightful barb, Dinah sashayed off, leaving Maggie wondering how fast her blood would race if she decided to strangle her best friend.
Josh spotted the purposeful glint in Maggie’s eye from halfway across the yard. He’d actually been surprised when she’d shown up at the building site this morning. He’d been doubly surprised when she’d taken on the lunch assignment without a complaint and done a fine job of it. The coffee had been hot, strong and plentiful. The thick sandwiches had been served on paper plates decorated with little slices of fruit. There had even been homemade brownies for dessert, which suggested she’d been out to prove that she could handle any assignment, no matter how disagreeable, with grace and aplomb.
Now, however, with most people leaving for the day, she looked as if all those words she’d no doubt been biting back since their first meeting were right on the tip of her tongue. He braced himself to tune out the expected harangue.
“I’m surprised you’re still here,” he said when she planted herself in front of him. “I thought you’d take off the minute your assignment was done.”
“We need to talk.”
He wiped the sweat from his brow with a bandanna and resigned himself to letting her have her say. “What about?”
“My capabilities versus your insulting view of women.”
Josh grinned despite himself. “In that case, I think I could use something cold to drink.” Without waiting for her response, he headed for a cooler and pulled out an icy can of soda. “Want one?”
“No, thank you,” she said primly.
He shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He tilted the can and took a long, slow swallow. Drops of ice-cold water dripped from the can and fell on his overheated flesh, which had warmed a few more degrees since Miss Maggie had stepped into his line of vision. The effect she had on him was downright dangerous.
She was a picture of pure femininity, he thought, but he doubted she’d planned it that way. In fact, it was clear she’d set out to prove just the opposite in her blue chambray work shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the tails knotted at her tiny waist. Her jeans were well worn and her shoes were dotted with paint spatters. She’d pulled her long hair up into some sort of knot and secured it to the top of her head.
But none of that took away from her flushed cheeks, shiny lips or the very feminine curls that had escaped to brush the delicate nape of her neck. Some women were simply born sexy, and Maggie was one of them. She could have worn a burlap sack and she’d still have set his pulse racing.
Didn’t matter, he told himself sternly. After what Cord and Caleb had told him about her determination, he knew he couldn’t afford to lose focus around her, not for a second.
“I thought you wanted to talk,” he said, aware that her gaze seemed to be locked on his chest. On another occasion he might have considered her expression flattering or interpreted it as an invitation to something more interesting than conversation.
Her head snapped up and the flush in her cheeks deepened.
“I don’t like you, Mr. Parker.”
Josh bit back a grin. “You’re breaking my heart.”
Undaunted, she went on. “But that’s beside the point. I came here to help and you’re wasting my skills.”
“Really? I thought lunch was fairly good.”
She immediately rose to the bait. “Fairly good? Have you ever had anything better on a construction site?”
He shrugged. “Maybe not. Those little fruit things were a nice touch. What do you call that?”
She rolled her eyes. “Garnish. Do you really care about that?”
“Not especially, but you seem to be fishing for compliments on your cooking.”
“I was not fishing for compliments,” she snapped. “Anybody can make sandwiches and slice up some fruit. I was trying to have a serious discussion about how you should be using me.”
“Well, now that you mention it,” he began, giving her a slow once-over, “a few ideas have crossed my mind on that score. But just so we don’t get our wires crossed, what exactly are you offering, Miss Maggie?”
The fire in her eyes flared into a full-fledged inferno. “I’m offering to help you frame this house, you idiot, but you are sorely testing my patience.”
Josh looked into all that heat in her eyes and absorbed the scathing note in her voice and concluded he might have made the tiniest miscalculation about Maggie. “You’re serious? You actually want to get your hands dirty?”
“Yes, I’m serious.”
“You’ve worked construction?”
“Not the way you mean,” she admitted. “I’ve never built a house before, but I have renovated an entire building.”
His gaze narrowed. “Meaning slapping a few coats of paint on the walls?”
She gave him a scathing look. “Meaning tearing out plaster and replacing it with drywall, reinstalling crown molding and matching up baseboards, installing track lighting, switching out electrical boxes and, yes, painting the whole damn thing when I was done.”
He didn’t even try to hide his skepticism. Maybe she’d supervised a professional crew but
