a supplier promising to have material delivered to another job site the following day. “Steve just called,” she told him, planting her hands on her ample hips. “They managed to bail Eddie out of jail, but the kid’s got an arraignment at ten tomorrow morning.”
Morgan reached for the phone. He had to call the guys and let them know they needed to be in the shop early. Then he’d let them know that he wasn’t happy with the stunt they’d pulled today.
“Don’t bother,” she said as he flipped through the Rolodex file for Steve’s number. “Steve said the four of them won’t be at work tomorrow.”
“What? I need them on that job, Sylvia.” If he had no crew on site as promised, he could kiss the future of Price Construction, and that of his kid brother and sister, goodbye. People were depending on him—not only the family he’d taken care of for as long as he could remember, but there were other drywall carpenters banking on him to keep them from the unemployment lines.
“I told Steve they’d better show,” she said. “They’re on their way in now to talk to you. Steve said since you didn’t get Eddie the lawyer like you promised, the guys are planning to go to court with him in the morning.”
“And do what? Plead stupidity for getting Eddie drunk on his twenty-first birthday?” he complained irritably.
Sylvia shrugged, her gaze filled with sympathy. “They feel responsible, Morgan.”
“How responsible are they going to feel if we don’t have any work?” he muttered, retrieving the telephone book from the bottom desk drawer. How he was going to find a lawyer at this time of the evening, he didn’t know.
Twenty minutes later, he shoved the phone book away in disgust. He still hadn’t found an attorney willing to take a minor drunk and disorderly charge at the last minute. And he’d only been able to find two lawyers in their offices past five o’clock.
Visions of expressive sapphire eyes and honey-blond hair drifted through his mind unbidden. He needed a miracle. And he couldn’t find one if he kept thinking about the blue-eyed angel and wondering if the rest of her was just as inspirational.
MIRACLES CAME in all shapes and sizes, her great-grandmother, Ethel Cassidy, used to tell her great-granddaughters. Jill was convinced her miracle was six foot two with fierce gray eyes and a body made for sin.
She pulled over to the curb to study the guide map again. Most of her time was spent in Los Angeles and the San Fernando Valley, so she was unfamiliar with the Inland Empire and having serious doubts of ever finding Morgan Price’s home.
Unwilling to give up hope, she flipped off the overhead light and continued farther up Canyon Crest Boulevard, finally locating the street she’d been searching for for the better part of an hour. After a series of twists and turns on curving and hilly side streets and a couple of cul-de-sacs, she found the house.
Malibu lights illuminated a concrete path from the driveway to the front door of a modest, single-story tract house with a neatly trimmed lawn and a few newly planted evergreens that would eventually grow into decent sized shrubbery. An older model Ford Explorer parked in the driveway in front of a two-car garage and a light shining in the living room window convinced her that her miracle was home. She breathed a sigh of relief that she hadn’t driven for two and a half hours through a sea of red taillights for nothing, and cut the engine of her Dodge Intrepid. Pulling her briefcase from the passenger seat, she gathered her courage and marched to the door before she could change her mind.
Jill rang the bell and waited. She had no guarantee that he’d even agree to her terms, and hoped that hint of desperation she’d detected in his eyes had been for real. Mostly, she hoped that Nick was right—that Morgan Price was indeed a guy who couldn’t say no to someone in need.
The door swung open and her heart stuttered behind her ribs, followed by an odd unfurling of heat in her middle. The man was simply too handsome for words.
She stared at him like a starstruck fool, paying silent homage to his astonishing good looks. Light spilled onto the porch, and he looked like an avenging angel. His raven-black hair was mussed, giving him a lived-in look she found far too sexy for her peace of mind. Her gaze slipped over him, down the wide chest that tapered to a slim waist she was convinced was as hard as granite, past lean hips and long legs she imagined were powerful and muscular, to bare feet.
Good grief, even his feet were sexy!
“Can I help you?” he asked after her moment of silence.
Her gaze drifted lazily back to his, and she prayed he hadn’t seen her reverent inspection of his masculine perfection. Since he hadn’t flipped on the porch light, she was hopeful.
“Mr. Price, I’m Jill Cassidy. I’m an attorney from Lowell and Montgomery.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at her, towering well over her five-foot-six height. “Nick have a change of heart?”
He had a pleasant voice, deep and soothing. The kind that would no doubt whisper seductively in a woman’s ear and send her pulse careening out of control.
“Not exactly,” she said, concentrating on her purpose for coming to see him. “May I come in?”
Relief swept through her when he stepped back to let her into the house. He showed her into a small living room, tastefully but inexpensively furnished.
“Would you like something to drink?” he asked, ushering her toward a blue plaid sofa.
“A glass of water would be nice,” she said, smiling up at him.
He nodded absently, then strolled out of the living room, giving her an opportunity to take in her surroundings. A plant in desperate need of attention sat atop an oval end table beside a tall brass lamp. More plants, also lacking tender loving care, were placed on the mantel above a small brick fireplace. Newspapers cluttered the edge of the coffee table, and a collection of magazines were strewn haphazardly beside a worn leather recliner with a remote control resting on the arm.
She eased out a puff of breath. The gods were smiling on her, because her miracle was single. The plants said there might have been a woman in his life at some point. She wasn’t planning to have an affair with him; she just needed him to pretend to be her fiancé for a brief period of time.
He returned with her water, then moved to sit across from her on the matching love seat. “So what’s this all about? If Nick didn’t change his mind, what are you doing here?”
“I can help you, Mr. Price—”
“Morgan,” he interrupted, his storm-cloud eyes dipping to her mouth, making her heart beat just a tad faster. “Isn’t this a little unusual? I didn’t know the partners at Lowell and Montgomery allowed their associates to moonlight.”
She smoothed her moist palms down her navy linen skirt. “They don’t,” she said, offering him a brief smile. “Not as a rule, anyway. I’m not here on behalf of the firm.”
He leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees, giving her a level stare. “Then what are you doing here?”
She set the glass on the coffee table. “Mr. Pr—Morgan. I was hoping we could help each other.”
He regarded her skeptically, but the hopeful light in his eyes boosted her
