Читать книгу: «An Imperfect Match / Next Comes Love: An Imperfect Match / Next Comes Love»
Available in June 2010
from Mills & Boon® Special Moments™
The Tycoon’s Perfect Match by Christine Wenger & Their Second-Chance Child by Karen Sandler
A Marriage-Minded Man by Karen Templeton & From Friend to Father by Tracy Wolff
An Imperfect Match by Kimberly Van Meter & Next Comes Love by Helen Brenna
A Bravo’s Honour by Christine Rimmer
Lone Star Daddy by Stella Bagwell
Claiming the Rancher’s Heart by Cindy Kirk
To Save a Family by Anna DeStefano
AN IMPERFECT MATCH
“I’m sorry about yesterday.
“I was rude,” Dean said gruffly. “Be at the office tomorrow at 8:00am and we’ll talk about the job.”
“Sure. Thanks.” Annabelle shifted and bit the inside of her cheek.
“You got family who could help you out?” he asked, wishing he hadn’t. It wasn’t a good idea to get too acquainted.
She chuckled wryly. “Nope. My mum died a few years ago and my daddy was a bit of a rambling man. I haven’t seen him since I was about seven. I have a younger brother, but the less I see of him the better off my pocketbook is.” She shrugged as if admitting that her family was less than desirable wasn’t a big deal. “I learned to rely on myself a long time ago.”
He believed her. Dressed in a denim skirt that was too short and a blouse that fitted too tightly across her breasts, she looked like a white trash prom queen, but there was a sense of dignity clinging to her that dared anyone to pass judgement.
Closing his eyes briefly to block out the image of her as she stood before him, he bit out a terse, “Don’t be late”, as his goodbye and walked – no, practically ran – from the restaurant.
NEXT COMES LOVE
“Never been married. Never plan to be.”
Erica took a step towards Garrett. “But if you think anything is going to happen between us, guess again. You are so not my type it isn’t even funny.”
They might as well have been alone in the apartment for the charge in the air. Flirting with her was dangerous. Still, Garrett couldn’t rein himself in. “So what is your type?”
“Not a cop, that’s for sure,” she said.
“What do you have against cops?”
“You wouldn’t get it.”
“Try me.”
“Don’t think so.” Erica’s dark brown eyes were laced with something he couldn’t put a finger on. Something that looked an awful lot like fear.
Someone had badly hurt her and the little boy. All Garrett wanted was to get his hands on the guy who had.
An Imperfect
Match
By
Kimberly Van Meter
Next Comes Love
By
Helen Brenna
An Imperfect
Match
By
Kimberly Van Meter
An avid reader since before she can remember, Kimberly Van Meter started her writing career at the age of sixteen when she finished her first novel, typing late nights and early mornings on her mother’s old portable typewriter. Although that first novel was nothing short of literary mud, with each successive piece of work her writing improved to the point of reaching that coveted published status. Kimberly, now a journalist, and her husband and three kids make their home in Oakdale. She enjoys writing, reading, photography and drinking hot chocolate by the windowsill when it rains.
Special thanks must go to RJ Murdoch
for taking time out of his tremendously
busy schedule to educate me on the big world of a
successful builder/contractor. Any deviations from
the way things are truly done are my own and no
reflection on what anyone has taken the time to
teach me. Thanks for all your help!
To Dawn Henley for being the best “office roomie”
a person could ask for and helping me brainstorm
when my own brain went on hiatus.
To Marg Jackson for the laughter, friendship and
overall good company from day one.
To the Leadin’ Ladies for their unwavering support
that never fails to humble me and buoy my spirits
in one fell swoop. You ladies are the best!
CHAPTER ONE
DEAN HALVORSEN’S day soured just about the same time his breakfast burrito heartburn kicked in, and he realized as he fished around in his pocket that he’d left his antacids at home.
“Eagle came in with a lower bid. You know how it goes. Times are tough. The bottom line is tight and we had to go with the lowest bidder. You understand, right?”
Dean bit back what he wanted to say and gave a short nod to Petey Simonsini. No, he didn’t understand. What he did understand was that Eagle Construction had snaked another job out from under his company by somehow coming under the Halvorsen Construction bid. Which was damn near impossible since Dean had cut the bid to the bone in an attempt to get the job.
“Aaron beat us fair and square, I suppose,” Dean said, though it made his teeth grind just to say it. Aaron Eagle never did things the right way. He cut corners, hired unlicensed subcontractors and bought shoddy materials to punch holes in the budget. No. Dean didn’t figure Aaron had beat him square at all, but there was no sense in whining about it. Except, as he rubbed at the spot on his chest where the acid pooled, he knew his temper was about to get the best of him.
Damn him. The man was on a personal quest to put Halvorsen Construction out of business. This was the third bid they’d lost to Eagle in six months. It seemed every time Dean put in a bid, Aaron was right behind him, even on the out-of-town jobs. The man had an agenda and it was starting to piss Dean off. Pretty soon he was going to have to start bidding on state jobs and that idea didn’t appeal at all—not because he hated the unions, which wasn’t entirely true, but because of all the red tape that came with those jobs.
By the time he arrived at the office, his heartburn had reached four-alarm status. As he burst through the door, intent on one thing—to find his antacids—he pulled up short and choked on what he saw.
His younger brother Sammy looked up and grinned broadly, daring Dean to yell, and then introduced the woman sitting behind the desk.
Beth’s desk.
“Dean, meet our new office manager, Annabelle Nichols.”
She stood and extended her hand, but Dean wasn’t in the mood to play nice anymore. Too bad for her. And he was going to have one less brother in about two minutes.
“I don’t remember hiring an office manager,” Dean said stonily, and she withdrew her hand with a nervous glance at Sammy.
“Aw, c’mon now. Don’t be a jerk in front of Annabelle. There’s plenty of time to show her just how difficult and surly you can be. Why start with the first day?”
Sammy—ever the comedian. But Dean wasn’t laughing. Sammy had broached the subject of hiring someone new last week, and Dean thought he’d communicated quite clearly his thoughts on the subject. They didn’t need anyone new.
As he eyed the woman in front of him, Dean realized he must not have been clear enough.
Ignoring Sammy, he said to her, “Ma’am, I’m afraid there’s been a miscommunication between me and my idiot brother. We’re not hiring right now. I’ll pay you a full day’s wage for your trouble.”
“Excuse us, Annabelle. This will just take a minute.” Sammy lost his good-time grin and strode to Dean. “I own a stake in this company, and I say we do need someone. Beth’s been gone two years and the business is slowly falling to crap because you’ve refused to hire a full-time office manager. The temp agencies were fine for the short haul, but the constant flow of people that have come and gone through here is killing us. We’re losing too many jobs because of stupid mistakes that wouldn’t have been an issue if we’d had someone like Beth in the office.”
“There’s no one like Beth,” Dean all but growled, appalled that Sammy would even suggest such a thing. He avoided looking in the woman’s direction but he could smell something fruity in the air—melon, perhaps—probably coming from that long curly hair, he noted with a frown. It was making his nose itch. “Everything’s fine. You’re overreacting.”
“Bullshit,” Sammy said, his temper flaring. He gestured to the desk that was littered with Post-its, paperwork, bits and scraps of note pages and job sheets. “You couldn’t find a brick on that desk much less anything important, like contracts and subcontractor bids!”
“All you need is a good file system,” the woman interjected quickly, drawing Dean’s attention away from the need to place his fist squarely into his brother’s face. She swallowed and gestured, her hands moving like little birds as she gathered piles. “And I was just telling Sammy when you came in that I may have an idea that might work to organize your system.”
“The system’s fine the way it is,” he answered, giving her a hard look, which she—surprisingly—returned.
“Not from what I can see,” she said. “Your system is cataloged by job number, which makes it hard to find later for reference. If the files were alphabetical, it would be much more efficient and you wouldn’t have a Post-it forest growing on your desk, the surface of which, I might add, has completely disappeared. It’s no wonder you’re losing jobs.”
Dean sent a quick look to his brother. Sammy had told her about Gilly’s? That was low. Embarrassment at that incident made his heartburn feel like a mild tickle.
“Yes, I told her about Gilly’s,” Sammy said without a hint of apology, his gaze clear but concerned. “Beth’s gone. We all loved her but we can’t let the family business go down the tubes because you don’t want anyone else to sit at that desk.”
Dean caught the quick widening of Annabelle’s eyes and he felt terribly exposed. Beth used to keep the office running smoothly. They had been a team: a well-oiled machine that had helped take his father’s company to another level of business. She was not only his wife, but his best friend and business partner.
No one could replace her. Especially not a woman barely out of her teens. Dean assessed Annabelle with a quick, dismissive sweep. She wasn’t a day over twenty-five, he’d wager, though there was something about her—the way her dark eyes caught everything without missing a beat—that made her seem older.
“Sorry,” he said to her, as he pulled his wallet from his back pocket. “I said we don’t need anyone else.” Throwing a wad of cash to the desk, he turned on his heel, saying over his shoulder to his brother, “She’s gone by the time I get back.”
ANNABELLE felt the slam of the office door reverberate, and she exhaled heavily, pursing her lips against the awkward moment sitting between her and Sammy.
Sammy was married to Annabelle’s best friend, Dana, but Annabelle didn’t know him or his family very well, having only just moved to Emmett’s Mill. Obviously, he’d offered her the job without consulting his brother.
And now she was in a strange town without a job. If that wasn’t a continuation of the stream of bad luck she’d been cursed with, she didn’t know what else was.
“Let me talk to him,” Sammy said, his mouth grim. “He’ll come around.”
“It’s fine. Don’t push it. He seems pretty set in his mind. Besides, I’ve never been the type to stay when I’m wanted to go. Thanks for trying, though. I appreciate it.”
Sammy shook his head resolutely. “No. I’ll talk to my dad. He’ll get him to see reason.”
Annabelle shuddered at the thought of Sammy doing such a thing on her account. “God no. I don’t even know your brother, but I wouldn’t much like it if someone tattled on me like that. I’ll be fine. There’s gotta be something else available. Restaurants are always hiring, right?”
Sammy grimaced. “Maybe. But Emmett’s Mill is a tourist town. It practically shuts down in the winter. Hell, I’m sorry, Annabelle. Dana and I pretty much talked you into moving here on the promise that you’d have a job. I never figured on Dean being such an ass about the whole thing. I mean, I knew he’d be resistant but not this bad…”
She patted Sammy on the shoulder and scooped up the cash on the desk. “My rent’s paid for the month. I’ll find something else. Besides, I like it here. It’s a perfect town for a fresh start.”
Sammy smiled but there was worry in his expression. Pocketing the cash, she grinned without showing a hint of the true panic starting to blossom, and did what she could to allay his concern. Dana had married a good man. It wasn’t his fault things hadn’t worked out as they’d hoped.
If anyone was well acquainted with disappointment, it was Annabelle. But she never dwelled on the past. And as she closed the office door to Halvorsen Construction she considered the unfortunate incident with Dean Halvorsen well on its way to history.
She paused briefly at her car. For some reason, she’d thought this was going to be the place where she could put down roots. Talk about being way off.
Family, roots, stability. She snorted. An illusion. All of it. God, when was she ever going to learn?
CHAPTER TWO
DEAN HEARD her voice before he saw her. Returning to his double cheeseburger, he tried to ignore the flash of guilt but it had already ruined his lunch.
Annabelle was talking earnestly to Steve Gerke, the manager of The Grill, and by the look on Steve’s face, whatever they were talking about didn’t bode well for her. Dean pushed his plate away, ready to leave. He signaled for the waitress, but she motioned that she’d be a few minutes. Great. Annabelle drew his gaze despite his resolve to pretend he didn’t see her trying to find a job.
“I learn fast,” he heard her say. Her voice was husky yet melodic. A strange contradiction he hadn’t noticed the other day. His ears pricked again. “Anything? Dishwasher, maybe? How about line cook? I can make a mean plate of hash browns.”
“I’m sorry, Ms…”
“Nichols. Annabelle Nichols.”
“Ms. Nichols. We’ve already hired all the staff we need at the moment. Good luck with your search. Leave your number with Maria up front and I’ll let you know if anything changes.”
Tough break. He tried not to see the sharp disappointment on her face but she kept forcing his attention toward her. She looked like one of those fine-boned porcelain dolls that cost so much you shouldn’t touch them. He shook off the thought and motioned again to the waitress, ready to get back to the office, when Aaron walked in. Ah hell.
Dean must’ve racked up a serious deficit in a past life for all the karmic crap he’d been served lately.
He stiffened, determined to ignore the man, but Aaron had a knack for pissing people off—a talent Dean was sure he perfected in the privacy of his own home—and right now, Aaron was doing a bang-up job of rubbing Dean the wrong way.
Aaron’s expression lit with a dark zeal when he saw Dean, and it was all Dean could do to remember his manners and not deck the guy right then and there. There was no love lost between them, and both men knew why.
Dean wasn’t the smooth talker in the family. That was his younger brother Sammy’s forte. And he left him to it for good reason. He’d never excelled at smiling and playing nice when he wanted to do the exact opposite. This was something Aaron knew and exploited whenever possible.
“Great job landing that new plaza contract, though I don’t know how you managed to talk old man Tucker into selling that slice of land. I’ve been trying for years and the old sucker wouldn’t budge. Mind sharing any tips?” Aaron asked with feigned casual interest.
“You seem to be doing fine on your own,” Dean said tightly, his gaze returning to the woman giving Steve one last chance to decide that he couldn’t live without her on the payroll. He had to give her points for tenacity. She didn’t give up easily. “You don’t need any help from me,” he added, signaling an end—at least on his part—to the conversation.
Aaron tracked Dean’s stare and noticed Annabelle, appreciation for her lush curves and ample breasts evident in his lingering look. “Who’s that?”
“Dunno.” That was mildly correct. Dean didn’t actually know her. Didn’t want to know her. Aaron continued to stare and Dean’s patience slipped. “A little young for you, don’t you think?”
“Not a crime to look.” Aaron smiled. “I’d say a body like that was made to draw attention. Maybe someone ought to welcome her to the community. Seeing as you’re heading out, I’ll take care of it.” He clapped Dean on the shoulder, which was at best annoying and made Dean want to growl at the liberty, and then headed in the young woman’s direction.
Good sense told him to leave. But watching Aaron sidle up to Annabelle made his blood boil. Dean looked away, ready to leave, but there was no way he could walk out the door with Aaron sizing her up. Biting off a silent string of curses, Dean followed Aaron, intending to warn the woman off whatever Aaron planned to offer, and, if it worked, he’d enjoy ruining Aaron’s day as a bonus.
Aaron’s smile faltered briefly when he realized Dean was standing beside him, but he didn’t veer off course.
“What seems to be the problem, Steve?” Aaron asked the manager with a wide smile but his attention never left Annabelle. “You giving this beautiful woman trouble?”
To her credit, she didn’t seem impressed with Aaron’s chivalrous act and actually inched away to provide a wider buffer between them as she answered for Steve. “No problem. Just looking for a job. Thanks though.”
“And I told her there aren’t any openings right now,” Steve said, shooting Annabelle a regretful look. “But, like I said, leave your name and number with Maria and we’ll keep you in mind.”
Steve left and Annabelle’s expression showed her disappointment, which Aaron was quick to capitalize on.
“I’ll bet I could find some work for you. What’s your name, sweetheart?” Aaron asked. “Are you new in town?”
“Annabelle Nichols,” she answered, glancing at Dean for a brief second. Her soft brown eyes seared into his with a force that threatened to knock him back, but she didn’t acknowledge him otherwise. She had freckles, he noted with surprise. Faint dots of color sprinkled the bridge of her nose in a way that could only be described as terminally cute, but her long red hair fell in loose, inviting waves—
He jerked imperceptibly at the direction of his thoughts, deciding he was no better than Aaron, thinking things he shouldn’t about someone who was young enough to be…well, a sister.
At forty-one, he didn’t need to be lusting after a woman in her early twenties. That sort of thing begged for trouble, and trouble he didn’t need.
“Where you from?” Aaron asked, looking the part of a politely interested passerby, but Dean didn’t buy it. The man had no shame. “Can’t be from around here. I’d remember someone like you,” he said with a boyish smile, and Dean’s desire to punch him intensified.
But, seeing as he couldn’t deck the man in a restaurant, Dean skewered Aaron with a short look and asked, “How’re Gina and the new baby?”
Aaron’s gaze narrowed at being caught in his game and a dull stain colored his cheeks. “Doing fine. Thanks for asking,” he answered with a tight smile but didn’t take the opportunity to bow out with his tail between his legs. Instead, he recovered with a grin. “So, what can you do, sweetheart? I might have an opening.”
“She already has a job,” Dean blurted, ignoring Aaron’s irritated stare and Annabelle’s startled one. He was damn sure not going to let Aaron try to worm his way into Annabelle’s pants under the guise of doing something nice. Yet even as his mouth moved he wondered what the hell he was doing. He’d made himself abundantly clear to Annabelle yesterday, yet here he was looking like an indecisive ass with a bad temper today. To hell with it. That was all before Aaron stuck his nose into it. He eyed her intently. “Don’t you?”
“I…uh…yeah. I guess so,” she answered. Though clearly confused, she was willing to play along.
Aaron shot Dean an accusatory look. “You said you didn’t know her. Now she works for you?”
“I just met her yesterday. I forgot Sammy hired her.” Again, mostly true. So piss off, you philandering prick. Dean looked at Annabelle. “If we’re not paying you enough I’ll see what we can do. No sense in you working two jobs if you don’t have to.”
“Thanks,” she said, watching him curiously. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow morning?”
“Yeah.”
Aaron’s smile returned, not quite ready to call it quits. Adjusting quickly, he changed tactics. “Trust me, darlin’, you don’t want to work for this grouch. He’s no fun. Come with me and I’ll show you how working for Eagle Construction is better. Besides, from what I’ve been hearing, Halvorsen Construction has had a run of bad luck. No such problems with Eagle. You’d never have to worry about your check clearing.”
Dean caught Annabelle’s look of alarm and it took everything in him not to clench his fists. Instead, he smiled thinly and said, “Well, it’s true we’ve lost a few bids to an unscrupulous contractor, but at least with Halvorsen Construction you don’t have to worry about the boss trying to look down your shirt or up your skirt.”
Annabelle moved away from Aaron with a small smile and her next comment made Dean’s respect level go up a notch. “Thanks, but I’m not looking for a good time. I’m just looking for something to pay the bills.”
“Fair enough,” Aaron said, tipping his baseball cap to her and spearing Dean with a black look. “Maybe I’ll see you around.” To Dean he said, “You ought to come by and see how Gilly’s turned out. We managed to pick up the contract when the original contractor crapped out. See you around, Dean.”
Dean didn’t bother with a rebuttal. There was no sense in playing Aaron’s game. Dean liked to think he was better than that, that his parents had raised him to be a better person, but the urge was strong to do something he’d regret later.
“I take it you’re not buddies.”
“No. Can’t stand the man.”
“Listen, I’d love to hear that story sometime, but right now I just hope you were serious about the job, because if not I need to track down that Steve guy again and try harder to convince him that he needs me here at the restaurant. I’m not quitting this day until I go home with a job.”
It wasn’t his style to butt his nose into other people’s business, but the thought of Annabelle even considering working for Eagle Construction was worse than disobeying his own tenet to keep to his own affairs. Not that she was really in any danger—the woman was no pretty bimbo. Sharp intelligence flared behind her eyes and the longer he stared, the harder it was to tear himself away. That in itself should’ve been a big enough warning to back off, but his pride warred with his guilt until he raised his hands in surrender. He’d used her to win a small battle with Aaron; the least he could do was give her a job until she could find something else.
“I’m sorry about yesterday,” he said gruffly. “Sammy should’ve warned me. I reacted badly. Be at the office tomorrow at 8:00 a.m. and we’ll talk about your duties.”
“Sure. Thanks.” She shifted and bit the inside of her cheek absently, the action reminding him that she was truly much younger than him. “I’ll keep an eye out for something else though.”
“You got family who could help you out?” he asked, wishing he hadn’t. It wasn’t a good idea to get too acquainted.
She chuckled wryly. “Nope. My mom died a few years ago and my daddy was a bit of a rambling man. I haven’t seen him since I was about seven. I have a younger brother, but the less I see of him the better off my pocketbook is.” She shrugged as if admitting that her family was less than desirable wasn’t a big deal. “I learned to rely on myself a long time ago.”
He believed her. Dressed in a denim skirt that was too short and a blouse that fit too tightly across her breasts, she looked like a white-trash prom queen looking for a date but there was a sense of dignity clinging to her that dared anyone to pass judgment.
Closing his eyes briefly to block out the image of her as she stood before him, he bit out a terse, “Don’t be late,” as his goodbye and walked—no, practically ran—from the restaurant.
