Unlike yesterday when he’d been dressed in a dark gray suit for his meeting with the manager of the local bank, today he wore snug jeans and a green knit shirt. On the chest pocket, the company name was stitched in gold. The shirt was just like the one she had seen Nita wearing on Monday, except that on Mitch it looked a hundred times better.
She tried to ignore the sizzle of awareness. For a businessman, he was in great shape. Before she had thought of him as a somber, rather shy individual who came into the lounge for an occasional beer. Now she realized that while he lacked Marshall’s outgoing, sometimes overwhelming charisma, Mitch’s quiet confidence was in its own way even more appealing.
“How’s it been going?” he asked when he saw her. “Are you doing okay?”
“I feel guilty for not working harder,” she admitted.
A couple of times in the last two days she had caught him studying her with a speculative expression. She was used to having men watch her, but not the way Mitch did, as though he was trying to figure out what made her tick. She had yet to decide if it made her uncomfortable.
“Don’t worry about not having enough to do,” he said. “You’ll more than make up for it before the trade shows.” One of the things he’d asked was whether she minded working overtime or traveling on business. For some reason, it hadn’t occurred to her that she might be accompanying him on those trips.
“Is it okay if I help Nita?” she asked. “I saw a stack of filing in her office.”
He shrugged, thumbs hooked into his wide leather belt. “Sure, that would be fine. Before you do, though, I was going to show you my shop.”
Liz grinned up at him, nearly batting her eyes from sheer habit. “Have you forgotten that you showed me the shop on my first day?”
The term didn’t begin to describe the large manufacturing floor where several workers had been busy assembling one of the various models of the Cates “cow-tipper.”
Mitch cocked his head as an answering smile spread to his eyes, making them glow from within. “Ah, that’s true, but you haven’t seen my personal shop, though.”
“That’s where the miracles happen,” Nita exclaimed in a dry voice that startled Liz. Mitch must not have heard her approach either, because he seemed to jerk away from Liz’s desk and color stained his cheeks.
“Miracles?” Liz echoed, looking from one to the other with a questioning expression.
If Nita had been closer to Mitch’s age, Liz might have wondered if the two shared a history that included more than merely business. She must be imagining things.
“My shop is where I tinker,” he explained. “Where I work on new ideas.”
Liz had known from reading the company history on their Web site that Mitch had an engineering background, but she hadn’t really pictured him doing any of the actual creating.
“I’d like to see it,” she replied.
“Nita, did you need something?” Mitch asked as Liz pushed back her chair and got to her feet.
“I was going to ask Liz for her size so we can order her some company shirts. They take a couple of weeks to get here.”
His gaze flickered over her body, then at his own feet. “Not my area of expertise,” he muttered, his sudden discomfiture reminding her of the way he’d usually acted when she waited on him at the resort. “Uh, I forgot something in my office,” he continued. “Be right back.”
As he hurried away, Liz and Nita exchanged amused glances. “I love it when he gets rattled,” Nita said in a low voice, looking extremely pleased. “He’s a great guy and it doesn’t happen often, but sometimes he needs to have his control tweaked.”
“Most of the guys I’ve known would offer to do the measuring personally,” Liz replied dryly. “And I wear a medium.”
“Okay.” Nita shook her head. “Mitch isn’t that way. I’ve been here since the beginning and I’ve never seen him cross that line. Everyone who works here knows that kind of thing isn’t tolerated.” She glanced over her shoulder, lowering her voice even more. “Trust me, his first love is the business. You don’t have a thing to worry about in that department.”
Nita’s words should have reassured the new and improved Liz, but what she felt was disappointment. Was she attracted to him despite her best efforts?
“Good to know,” she replied calmly just as he reappeared.
“To know what?” he asked.
“I was just telling her that the medical insurance takes effect in thirty days,” Nita replied innocently. “Well, I’ve got to get back to work or the boss will be after me.” She winked at Liz. “I’ll order your shirts. Let me know if you have any more questions about the benefits package.”
“Sure thing,” Liz replied. “Thanks.”
“Okay, shall we go?” Mitch held open the heavy door to the manufacturing area with its noisy machines, loud music and raised voices. Just inside the door was a rack holding hard hats. When she reached for a bright yellow one as she had on her first day, he stretched his hand above her head and took down a green one.
“This is what a Cates employee wears,” he said, handing it to her.
Her name was printed in gold above the molded brim.
“Thank you.” Cautiously she set it on her upswept hair. Funny how having a hat with her name on it made her feel like one of the team.
As a time clock mounted on the wall next to a rack of cards clicked over, he donned a matching hat that looked slightly beat up. “This way.”
Mitch had to bite his tongue to keep himself from telling Lizbeth how cute she looked in her new headgear. He’d thought getting to know her would be easier on his home turf, but she still intimidated him.
Like a little boy showing off a birdhouse he’d constructed from popsicle sticks, he took out a key ring. Unlocking a door in the wall, he led her to the place where his ideas took shape. If she was bored silly, it would probably serve him right for thinking a woman like her would find it—or him—interesting.
Their gazes met as he opened the door and let her go ahead of him. What choice did he have but to try?
“Wow.” Slowly she turned in a circle as she looked around the clean, well-lit room. “I expected someplace dark and cluttered, but this looks more like a lab than an inventor’s workshop.”
His gaze followed hers. On the wall above the spacious counter were assorted hand tools. A rack held blueprints and specs. File cabinets lined the short wall next to a small beat-up desk, bare except for a computer. Across from it was a drafting table. Nothing was out of place.
“I guess I’m a little obsessive when it comes to where I work,” he said apologetically.
Great, now she thought he was some kind of oddball neat freak. He’d hoped she might view him as fascinating and clever, not as the nutty professor.
“I confess, I’m with you,” she said, surprising
