“Oh, darn.”
“I’m surprised you expected her to be here for much longer.” He tossed more junk mail into the trash. “Consultants never stay in one place for long.”
Jaye’s spine stiffened. “A contract extension could keep me around.”
“I’ve yet to meet any specialist who inspired me to extend their contract,” he countered, jamming a letter into the back pocket of his jeans.
Sarah and Veronica traded a look.
“Extending a contract is definitely your prerogative,” Jaye agreed, forcing a saccharin smile. “Especially if you need help developing an online marketing plan.”
He snorted. “I don’t need that kind of help.”
“Given your aversion to technology, I’m stunned to see electric lighting in your factory.” Jaye met his piercing gaze with a cheerful shrug. “Shall we continue the tour?”
“Might as well.” Shoving the rest of his mail back into his mailbox, he strode out of the office.
Jaye turned toward Sarah. “Does he always growl?”
“Not when he’s happy. Then again, he hasn’t been happy for years.”
Veronica drummed her fingertips on a desk. “Perhaps a consultant can turn things around.”
“You’d have better luck with a magician.” Jaye hurried after Mitch, who was striding down the corridor.
“The hallway to the right leads to shipping.” He gestured toward a small room. “We keep the copier and office supplies in here. My glassblowers eat their lunch in the conference room to escape the heat from the furnace. Don’t plan on using that room in the middle of the day.”
“I’m a little confused.” She flicked her gaze around the immediate area. “Where is Accounts Payable? Marketing? Sales?”
“My father does those jobs.” Mitch walked past her.
She lunged, grabbing his forearm. His skin was very warm, evidence his internal furnace ran ten degrees hotter than most. Heat traveled through her palm, up her arm, and zipped toward the tips of her breasts. Jaye snatched back her hand.
Mitch frowned at the part of his arm where she’d touched him.
Through the safe fringe of her bangs, Jaye looked at him. “Did a consultant recommend paring down your staff even though you have only four people staffing your offices?”
“No. He believed reducing the number of glassblowers would increase our profit margin.”
“Oh.” She leaned back, letting her shoulders thud against the wall. “No wonder you don’t like consultants.”
“I can always count on them to screw up my life.” Mitch tilted the brim of his cap. A devilish smirk chased the tension off his face. “Come with me. I need to feed the dragon. Months have passed since the last consultant arrived.”
“Was he the one who recommended you fire some glassblowers?”
“The very one.”
“Then I have nothing to worry about. I’d never suggest firing glassblowers in the pursuit of profit.” An impish smile curled her lips. “I’d get rid of whoever runs the studio.”
Mitch deserved that wisecrack, considering how rough he’d been on Jaye all morning. Anxious to return to his natural habitat, he opened the studio’s heavy door. A rush of heat and sound flooded the lobby.
A furnace the size of a large dragon stood in the center of the studio. The fire in its belly glowed a bright orange. Contrary to what Mitch told Jaye, the furnace lived on a steady diet of silica, lime, ash, and barium.
Jaye walked into the expansive room and stood a respectful distance from the steel beast. “This must be where you make the molten glass.”
“This is the heart of the factory,” he acknowledged, feeling a surge of satisfaction at what he and his family had built. “Ingredients are heated to two thousand four hundred degrees to make glass.”
She pointed to the smaller furnaces flanking the large one. “Those aren’t as hot. You use them to keep the glass malleable, right?”
“You’ve done some homework.” Damn. Pretty and smart—a deadly combination. He needed to wake up to stay a step ahead. To his relief, he spotted a steaming pot of coffee on the nearby counter. He filled a mug with the black sludge. “Want some?”
Jaye shook her head. “Where is the lehr?”
He pointed to a large oven near the back of the room. “We use the lehr to cool finished pieces slowly so they don’t shatter.” Mitch swallowed a mouthful of coffee. The bitter brew cleared the cobwebs out of his brain. “Glass can explode if it’s not treated right.”
“How often do pieces shatter?”
“Around here, not much. If someone gets cut, we have an EMT who works in our shipping department. He can patch us up, but I usually take my guys to the hospital for stitches. A sharp piece of glass can cut deep.”
Jaye’s gaze flowed up his left arm and down the right.
Looking for cuts, no doubt. A tendril of pride crept up his spine. “I’ve never needed stitches.”
“Oh. Right.” She looked away. The hollows of her cheeks pinkened.
Another blush. He could get used to this. The painful tension gripping his shoulders dripped away. Swallowing another mouthful of coffee, he watched the orange light from the fire play across her pretty face. He was so distracted by the sight, he didn’t realize she was asking him a question until he saw the frown beneath her chestnut bangs. He raised his voice over the furnace’s roar. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”
She took a hesitant step forward, tilting her pink lips toward his ear. “Glassblowers work in pairs, right? Who is your partner?”
“Freddie.” Having her this close made his gut feel like he’d just swallowed a lit firework. He pointed across the room to his friend, who gave a cheerful salute in return.
For several moments, she watched the glassblowers. “Your customers would love to see you at work. May I take pictures in the studio?”
“No. Distractions need to be kept to a minimum while my men work with dangerous materials.” She was a dangerous distraction, but he didn’t voice the thought. “I don’t want to temporarily blind my guys with a camera’s flash while they’re working.”
“I can shoot without a flash.”
“The answer is still no. The only people I want close to the hot glass are my men.”
