cabinets. But the big jobs had eluded her. And, in truth, she hadn’t tried as hard as she should have to get work.
But the little nest egg her ex-boyfriend had left her—purely out of guilt—was gone, along with almost all of her own savings. If she didn’t revitalize the carpentry business immediately, she would have to get a nine-to-five job. And, let’s face it, who was going to hire her at this point?
Thank goodness Clark Best had called, not realizing her father had passed on. She’d been completely honest with him, and then she’d had to grovel to get the job. But he’d given her a chance, bless his heart.
Now it was up to her to convince Dr. Rand Barclay that she could build him the most awesome shelving unit he’d ever seen—solid mahogany, brass hardware…
Oh, hell, who was she kidding? The minute he laid eyes on her, she would be out the door on her fanny.
CLARK WAS BUSY IN the kitchen when the doorbell rang, so Rand answered it himself. A tall woman with long, dark hair in a sleek ponytail stood on his front porch, looking around uncertainly. She carried a huge sketch pad in front of her, so he could see nothing of her figure, but from the shoulders up she was breathtaking.
She wasn’t a classic beauty—her face was a bit too angular for that. But her skin was flawless, her lips pink and moist, and her eyes—they were hard to look away from. A startling blue, they seemed to hold emotional depths Rand could never fathom.
She blinked a couple of times at him. “Is this the Barclay residence?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m Rand Barclay.”
“Hello, Dr. Barclay. I’m Susan Kilgore.” Clutching the sketch pad against her with one hand, she extended the other in an awkward handshake. Her hands were long, strong, and not very pretty, especially with those bitten nails. Yet Rand felt something odd when she touched him. He supposed it was because he wasn’t used to a woman shaking hands like a man.
He waited for her to state her business. The silence stretched an uncomfortable length of time, and it seemed as if she expected to be invited in. Then he saw the truck in the driveway and the logo on the door: Kilgore Woodworking.
“Oh, the bookshelves,” Rand finally said, feeling like an idiot. “Come right in.” He looked past her out to the driveway, expecting her father or brother to appear, but apparently she was alone.
She stepped into the foyer and looked around. “This is a fine old house,” she said, almost wistfully. “I imagine it’s been in your family forever.”
“No. I’ve only had it eight years. Frankly, it’s a bit of a pain. Always something going wrong.”
Susan sighed. “Old houses just need a little more TLC—like old people.”
“You have an old house then?”
“No, but someday…”
“The shelves go in here.” He led her into his lair.
“Oh, my, yes,” she said from behind him. “I see why Clark called.”
Rand studied his office, trying to see it with her eyes. The room was large, with French doors leading out to a patio on one end, a rolltop desk with a computer at the other, an unused fireplace with a faded wood mantel, and a chipped tile hearth, and not much else. One tiny, tired-looking oak bookcase overflowed with books, periodicals, and papers, along with a few office supplies. The rest of the room featured untidy piles of books and notes.
“I want this room to be a real office,” he explained. “The plans you sent over are perfect. You can do one of those rolling staircases, right?”
“Most definitely. When I’m done, you’ll have the prettiest office in all of Marlena.”
“Pretty is fine, but I’m mainly interested in function. I’ll be using this office to research and write a medical textbook, and I need a place to organize my source material.”
“I can see that.”
He ventured a look at her. She’d stepped behind his desk to examine the wall, knocking on it. Then she pulled a small electronic gizmo from the pocket of her striped overalls and ran it along the wall, pausing to make a pencil mark.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“A stud finder.”
Look no farther, darlin’, I’m right here. He couldn’t help his thoughts. Hell, he’d almost said it out loud. She was so pretty—even though he suspected she wasn’t trying. No makeup, no jewelry…He wished she would get out from behind his desk so he could see the rest of her.
“So…do you have a father or brother who does the actual building?” he asked.
Those soft blue eyes took on the look of a summer rain cloud. “My father’s deceased. It’s just me. I’m the Kilgore of Kilgore Carpentry.”
“But…”
“Yes?”
He supposed he didn’t need to point out to Ms. Susan Kilgore that she was a woman. And he would sound like a Neanderthal if he expressed doubts about her abilities simply because she was female. He’d been in these situations enough in the past to know he had an uncanny ability to stick his foot right in his mouth.
“Um, will you excuse me?”
“Of course.”
Rand headed for the kitchen, where he found Clark pouring sauce from a small pan into a Tupperware dish filled with some unidentifiable lumps. It wasn’t very pretty, but the smell made Rand’s mouth water.
“Take a look at this,” Clark said. He wore a tall white hat and apron, which only served to emphasize his huge muscles. “Chitterlings and portabello mushrooms sautéed in a white wine—”
“Chitterlings!” Rand said in alarm. “I’ll pass, thanks.”
“It’s not for you, it’s a project for class. We’re each supposed to take a family recipe and make it French.”
“Your mother never made chitterlings.”
Clark grinned. “Oh, yes, she did. We just told you it was something else. You want a taste?”
“No, thanks.” Rand got to the point. “Did you know you hired a woman to build my bookcases?”
“Oh. She’s here, huh?” Clark looked distinctly guilty as he snapped the lid over his masterpiece.
“Yes, she’s here! And I can’t see how she can do the work. Carpentry involves a lot of heavy lifting, power tools…”
Clark set the pan in the sink and ran water into it. “Look, Rand. I had doubts, too, when she told me her…situation. But she knows her stuff. And she sounded, you know, kind of desperate. Apparently not many people have given her a chance to prove herself.”
“But this is my office we’re talking about. My bookshelves.”
“Well, you can’t fire her now.
