designer. I suppose he does score fairly high on the hunk-o-meter.'
'Rings my bell.' At Stella's expression, Hayley pressed a hand to her belly and laughed. 'I'm pregnant. Still have all working parts, though. And just because I'm not looking for a man doesn't mean I don't
want to look at one. Especially when he's yummy. He really is all tough and broody-looking, isn't he? What is it about tough, broody-looking men that gives you that tickle down in the belly?'
'I couldn't say. What's he doing over there?'
'Looks like he's loading pavers. If it wasn't so cool, he'd pull off that jacket. Bet we'd get a real muscle show. God, I do love my eye candy.'
'That sort'll give you cavities,' Stella mumbled. 'He's not scheduled for pavers. He hasn't put in the
order for pavers. Damn it!'
Hayley's eyebrows shot up as Stella stomped to the door and slammed out. Then she pressed her nose
to the window, prepared to watch the show.
'Excuse me?'
'Uh-huh?' Hayley's answer was absent as she tried to get a better look outside. Then she popped back from the window, remembering spying was one thing, getting caught at it another. She turned, put on
an innocent smile. And decided she'd gotten a double serving of eye candy.
This one wasn't big and broody, but sort of lanky and dreamy. And hot damn. It took an extra beat for her brain to engage, but she was quick.
'Hey! You must be Harper. You look just like your mama. I didn't get a chance to meet you yet, 'cause you never seemed to be around wherever I was around. Or whenever. I'm Hayley. Cousin Hayley from Little Rock? Maybe your mama told you I was working here now.'
'Yeah. Yeah.' He couldn't think of anything else. Could barely think at all. He felt lightning-struck and stupid.
'Do you just love working here? I do already. There's so much of everything, and the customers are so friendly. And Stella, she's just amazing, that's all. Your mama's like, I don't know, a goddess, for giving me a chance this way.'
'Yeah.' He winced. Could he be any more lame? 'They're great. It's great.' Apparently he could. And damn it, he was good with women. Usually. But one look at this one had given him some sort of concussion. 'You, ah, do you need anything?'
'No.' She gave him a puzzled smile. 'I thought you did.'
'I need something? What?'
'I don't know.' She laid a hand on the fascinating mound of her belly and laughed, all throaty and free. 'You're the one who came in.'
'Right. Right. No, nothing. Now. Later. I've got to get back.' Outside, in the air, where he should be
able to breathe again.
'It was nice meeting you, Harper.'
'You, too.' He glanced back as he retreated and saw she was already back at the window.
* * *
Outside, Stella sped across the parking area. She called out twice, and the second time got a quick
glance and an absent wave. Building up steam as she went, she pumped it out the minute she reached
the stacks of pavers.
'What do you think you're doing?'
'Playing tennis. What does it look like I'm doing?'
'It looks like you're taking material you haven't ordered, that you haven't been authorized to take.'
'Really?' He hauled up another stack. 'No wonder my backhand is rusty.' The truck shuddered as he loaded. 'Hey.'
Much to her amazement, he leaned toward her, sniffed. 'Different shampoo. Nice.'
'Stop smelling me.' She waved him away by flapping a hand at his chin as she stepped back.
'I can't help it. You're standing right there. I have a nose.'
'I need the paperwork on this material.'
'Yeah, yeah, yeah. Fine, fine, fine. I'll come in and take care of it after I'm loaded.'
'You're supposed to take care of it before you load.'
He turned, aimed a hot look with those mossy green eyes. 'Red, you're a pain in the ass.'
'I'm supposed to be. I'm the manager.'
He had to smile at that, and he tipped down his sunglasses to look over them at her. 'You're real good
at it, too. Think of it this way. The pavers are stored on the way to the building. By loading first, then coming in, I'm actually being more efficient.'
The smile morphed into a smirk. 'That'd be important, I'd think, if we were doing, say, a projection of man- hours.'
He took a moment to lean against the truck and study her. Then he loaded another stack of pavers.
'You standing here watching me means you're wasting time, and likely adding to your own man-hours.'
'You don't come in to handle the paperwork, Kitridge, I'll hunt you down.'
'Don't tempt me.'
He took his time, but he came in.
He was calculating how best to annoy Stella again. Her eyes went the color of Texas bluebonnets
when she was pissed off. But when he stepped in, he saw Hayley.
'Hey.'
'Hey,' she said back and smiled. 'I'm Hayley Phillips. A family connection to Roz's first husband?
I'm working here now.'
'Logan. Nice to meet you. Don't let this Yankee scare you.' He nodded toward Stella. 'Where are the sacred forms, and the ritual knife so I can slice open a vein and sign them in blood?'
'My office.'
'Uh-huh.' But he lingered rather than following her. 'When's the baby due?' he asked Hayley.
'May.'
'Feeling okay?'
'Never better.'
'Good. This here's a nice outfit, a good place to work most of the time. Welcome aboard.' He sauntered into Stella's office, where she was already at her computer, with the form on the screen.
'I'll type this one up to save time. There's a whole stack of them in that folder. Take it. All you have to do is fill them in as needed, date, sign or initial. Drop them off.'
'Uh-huh.' He looked around the room. The desk was cleared off. There were no cartons, no books sitting on the floor or stacked on chairs.
That was too bad, he thought. He'd liked the workaday chaos of it.
'Where's all the stuff in here?'
'Where it belongs. Those pavers were the eighteen-inch round, number A-23?'
'They were eighteen-inch rounds.' He picked up the framed photo on her desk and studied the picture
of her boys and their dog. 'Cute.'
'Yes, they are. Are the pavers for personal use or for a scheduled job?'
'Red, you ever loosen up?'
'No. We Yankees never do.'
He ran his tongue over his teeth. 'Ura-hmm.'
'Do you know how sick I am of being referred to as 'the Yankee,' as though it were a foreign species, or a disease? Half the customers who come in here look me over like I'm from another planet and may not be coming in peace. Then I have to tell them I was born here, answer all sorts of questions about why I left, why I'm back, who my people are, for Christ's sake, before I can get down to any sort of business. I'm from Michigan, not the moon, and the Civil damn War's been over for quite some time.'
Yep, just like Texas bluebonnets. 'That would be the War Between the damn States this side of the Mason- Dixon, honey. And looks to me like you loosen up just fine when you get riled enough.'
'Don't 'honey' me in that southern-fried twang.'
