Abigail twirled one of her gray curls around her finger, studying Jaye. “Mitch watched you walk out of the factory today. It’s not the first time I’ve caught him staring. I think he likes you.”
“I doubt it. He was probably watching to make sure I didn’t steal any glassware.” Jaye swept the long fringe of her bangs out of her face. “He distrusts consultants so much, there’s no way he can like me.”
“I’m afraid you’re right.” Veronica shuffled the cards. “Every consultant has caused chaos at the factory. Mitch would never date one.”
“Can you imagine?” Sarah grinned. “He can’t be civil to a consultant, much less kiss one.”
“You’re not taking into account one important thing, ladies.” Abigail wagged a slender forefinger in the air. “None of our consultants ever looked like Jaye.”
Chapter Seven
“It’s past five.” A slow grin broke across Mitch’s lips as he strode across the lobby toward her. “Shouldn’t you be cooking my dinner?”
Jaye fired a warning squint his way, but didn’t put much vinegar in the look. The way his faded jeans clung to his lean hips made her insides whir like a computer stuck in an infinite loop. She pointed to a shiny balloon wedged near a duct in the vaulted ceiling. “I have a problem.”
Mitch looked up at the rainbow of ribbons dangling from the inflated unicorn’s tail. “I didn’t peg you for the type who liked balloons.”
“I’d go back to the store to get another one, but this was the last one in stock.” Jaye winced as a ceiling fan threatened to lop the unicorn in half. “Do you think you can get down the balloon?”
“Not without help.” Mitch tipped back his baseball cap and scratched his forehead. “No one is around. I just sent my crew home for the day.”
Jaye caught sight of Nick striding down the corridor, briefcase in hand. “Maybe someone else can lend a hand.”
Nick stopped in front of the glass shelving featuring their stemware. “What’s wrong?”
She repeated her tale of woe, all too aware of Mitch’s narrowed gaze. His father seemed to buy her story, but Mitch yanked the brim of his cap low on his forehead.
“The balloon will lose helium and sink. Then you can re-inflate the thing. Problem solved.” With a negligent flick of his big hand, he headed for the studio.
“I can’t wait too long.” Jaye crossed her arms over her navy blazer and shot a worried glance upward. “I wanted to drop the balloon off at Veronica’s house for her granddaughter’s birthday.”
“It’s for Lydia?” Looking over his shoulder, Mitch frowned at the balloon. “I’ll get the ladder.”
The balloon collided into a rafter, prompting Nick to stride toward a set of switches on the wall. “I’ll shut off the ceiling fans.”
Looked like these two men could work together, after all. Jaye stuffed her hands into the deep pockets of her blazer and stared at the balloon. The darn thing looked forlorn, skittering around like it was looking for a way out. She could relate to the feeling. “I’ll start making dinner.”
Mitch tied the balloon to the back of a kitchen chair. “We got the unicorn.”
“You did?” Jaye set the lasagna on the stove and turned. Light from the brass pendant fixture glinted off the balloon’s metallic surface. Happiness skipped through her. She couldn’t resist giving the balloon’s ribbons a wistful touch. “How did you get it down?”
He squeezed past her to wash his hands at the sink. “Dad held the ladder while I made the climb. Had to swing a broom to get the tail within reach.”
She thought about how high Mitch must’ve climbed to reach the vaulted ceiling, and nervous perspiration bloomed in her palms. Wiping her hands on her jeans, Jaye put a huge slice of aromatic lasagna on a plate and handed him the serving. “Thanks for rescuing the unicorn.”
He gazed at the broad square of steamy wide noodles, cheese, and sauce. “Seems too coincidental that you needed help after most everyone left the factory. If you’re dreaming up ways to get my father and me to collaborate, don’t bother. Nothing will work.”
“You two got the balloon, right? I’d call that a roaring success.” She struggled to lift her serving from the pan, but the cheesy strands were as strong as rubber bands.
Mitch placed his plate on the counter, his upper arm brushing against the sleeve of her Tufts University T-shirt. “So this was a scheme.”
She dropped the slice of lasagna back into the pan and pointed the spatula at him. “I let go of the balloon by accident, not on purpose. I had no idea it would fly up to the ceiling so fast.”
“Oh, come on. Are you telling me you’ve never held onto a balloon before?”
The spatula slipped out of her hand and slapped onto the floor. Red sauce splattered across the faded beige linoleum. She snatched a paper towel to wipe up the mess, glad for the excuse not to meet his gaze. Truth was, she’d never touched a helium balloon until today. Balloons, birthday parties, and stuffed animals weren’t part of her childhood—but admitting such a thing sounded too crazy to be true.
And too pathetic.
Placing the dirty spatula into the sink, Jaye caught Mitch frowning at her. She broke eye contact and tossed the paper towel into the garbage. “When was the last time you and Nick talked about something that had nothing to do with the factory?”
“Dunno.” Mitch reached into a cabinet to pull out two glasses. “Dad walks out on most of our conversations.”
“I know.” A rush of compassion softened her voice. “I’ve seen Nick walk out on you three times since I arrived. On Monday, he scrammed when you asked if he read your report. Tuesday, he left when you requested an updated copy of the budget. Today, he pretended not to hear when you suggested stacking the inventory differently.”
“How do you know all that?”
“I sit across from your father’s office.” She shuffled through a drawer for a clean spatula. “I don’t mean
