Marla waved the roll of blueprints. “Dwayne! Hold up. I want to talk to you.”
Delectable Dwayne stopped and turned. He waggled his eyebrows and grinned. “I thought you’d never ask, gorgeous.”
Her face and neck blazed. He was the only man on earth who could make her blush. She hated him for doing it and herself for allowing it.
“In case you hadn’t noticed, Dempsey, I’m your employer. Don’t you think it’s a tiny bit improper for you to call me gorgeous?” She gave him her sternest scowl and slammed her hands onto her hips.
The devil grinned. “I believe in honesty, boss. Goes with being a Marine.”
Resisting the urge to scream, she told him in a matter-of-fact tone, “I’ll be offsite for about two hours.” She pointed to a truck that pulled onto the premises. “You’ll have to sign for that load of drywall. Check it closely. Make sure they don’t try to pawn off some of that cheap Chinese stuff on us, like last week. If you need me, you have my cell number.”
“I need you all right.” His grin was enough to stop her heart. “But I’d rather have your unlisted home number.”
The last thing she wanted complicating her life was an unrepentant bad boy. Marla had her life planned. She knew where she was going, and she was going alone.
He winked.
She silently swore by all that was holy that the big lout changed his posture, tilted his pelvis forward slightly, then grinned like a cat about to pounce on a mouse.
“One of these days, Dempsey.”
“It’s what I live for, Red.”
He referred to her mass of strawberry blond hair, which at the moment was growing larger in the damp breeze. How she hated her hair, especially when he teased her. She whirled around and flounced away before she said something she’d regret.
“Mmm, mmm, mmm,” he hummed. “Hey, Red. Wait! I’ll need a copy of the invoice.”
She stopped, dug through her briefcase with a vengeance, found the invoice and thrust it toward him, noticing again the two missing fingers on his left hand. Maybe he wasn’t as good with power tools as he seemed to think.
“Here, take it, Dempsey.” She held the paper at arm’s length to avoid getting any closer.
Why, she asked herself, did she put up with him? Two reasons—he was the best in the business, and his father and her father had been best buddies for over fifty years. The two old friends were known by their pals as The Double D’s—Dempsey and Danaher.
She wouldn’t fire Dwayne as long as he was doing his job, but she could plan his murder. Maybe she’d ask Char to shag him to death. No, maybe she’d do it herself. Have a little fun while getting rid of him. He’d learn not to mess with her.
Cheeks on fire over her thoughts, she rejoined Charlene. “Let’s go before I commit a felony.”
Char’s beautiful face scrunched with confusion. “Is he related to that old cutie pie, Johnny Dempsey? He looks like him, don’t you think?”
“Yes, he’s John’s middle son. The one we seldom saw when we were kids because he left to live in Wyoming with his mother.”
Light dawned like the sunrise in Charlene’s eyes. “Oh, yes, now I remember. Barry or Harry said Dwayne hated the wicked stepmother.”
Harry and Barry, their twin brothers. Identical twins, not fraternal like Charlene and Marla. Twins ran in the Danaher family. Two Danaher’s for the price of one. Or, as they privately joked behind Dadley’s back—he only got two cracks at it. Maybe that’s all Bradley wanted with their ditzy mother, Silvia. What a family. If it wasn’t for Marla, they’d fall apart. When her mother had complications after the birth of the boys, Marla spent a lot of time taking care of them. Gradually, with Silvia’s free and easy compliance, she took over more and more of their care. Taking charge came natural to her.
Fortunately for Marla’s busy schedule, the restaurant was only a short ten minutes away from the jobsite.
Barry and Harry sat waiting for them in the deli. College boys, they looked the part, like they’d come straight from Central Casting. At seven years younger than Marla and Charlene, few people, including their immediate family, could tell the two twenty-year-olds apart. The boys often finished each other’s sentences, and their gestures were like mirror images. It was beyond fascinating to watch them. She had a hunch their professors had long ago given up accusing them of cheating when their test results were nearly as identical as they were.
Electrical engineering geniuses, her boys would someday be filthy rich, live in ocean front mansions in Malibu, drive matching silver Jaguars, have gorgeous trophy wives, and two perfect sets of identical twin children. But for now they were still her baby brothers, and they understood they darn well better not cross her.
Charlene smiled as they made their way through the deli crowd. “There they are. Let’s go sit with the best-looking men in the room.” She sashayed the rest of the way to their table. “Hey there, sailors,” she vamped, “want a date?”
The boys laughed, stood up like proper gentlemen, and held chairs out for them. They’d already ordered iced tea all around.
Marla’s baby brothers always evoked a feeling of gooey warmth and love in her chest. She took credit for everything they did right, and blamed Charlene when they’d misbehaved or cursed. Insisting Charlene quit teaching them profanity, Lord and lordy lord became a permanent part of her sister’s vocabulary.
Barry, or Harry, leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “How’s it going, BS?”
BS was short for Big Sis, a term of endearment the boys used for both her and Charlene. Being word misers, they spoke with as few words as possible. Why, she didn’t know. Charlene used enough for all of them, so it balanced out.
She noticed the little fleck of gold in
