Crystal clear, p.1
Crystal Clear, page 1
Crystal Clear
Pam Mantovani
For William, Jonathan,
Reagan and Peyton
you fill my life with love, pride
and the sweetest hugs in the world
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Other Titles By Pam Mantovani
About Pam
Chapter 1
“You wouldn’t ask me to do this if I were a man.”
Rather than the nodded acceptance Jill Hatcher hoped her pronouncement would elicit, she got laughter.
“Jill,” Annette Shepherd, her best friend, managed after her laughter subsided. “That’s flimsy even for you.”
Of course it was, as she’d uncharacteristically been grasping at a straw. What she was being asked scared her more than she could explain.
Annette moved a ringless left hand to her fertile stomach. “How about I say this—there’s no one else but you that I trust with this particular project.”
Even as the compliment pleased her beyond words, Jill made no movement. She’d worked hard to train herself to hold still and inhibit any sort of nervous gesture. It was all a matter of control.
She would not allow anyone to have control over her again.
“You know how important this onsite day care is to me,” Annette pressed.
“I do,” Jill agreed, although both women knew Annette could afford a dozen nannies.
“I don’t want to take advantage of our friendship.”
Now Jill did move. A slight shift of the shoulders was an effective interruption all the more pronounced for the very fact she seldom employed such a technique. She couldn’t remember the last time Annette had asked her for anything.
Jill had become enough of a business woman to recognize that not only would this job enhance her portfolio, but it would pad her bank account until she heard about her latest proposal. There was also the fact that she wouldn’t have her business without the support, encouragement, and connections her friendship with Annette had afforded her. Not once before had Annette ever asked for anything in return.
“We both know you would never do such a thing,” Jill said.
“Then you also understand how important it is to me for you to stay long enough to oversee the renovations.”
“You want me to manage the operations,” Jill said. Her heart fluttered with a secret longing, but she ruthlessly subdued the throb. “Not actually be involved with any of the children on a daily, one-on-one basis? I mean, I know a permanent director would no doubt do so, but my role would be temporary.”
Annette smiled, her first fully relaxed, confident smile of the morning. “I’ll leave the extent of your daily involvement entirely up to you.”
“I guess you want me to begin right away.”
“As a matter of fact—” Annette checked the slim gold watch on her left wrist. “You’ve been on the payroll for an hour.”
“I should have known you’d assume I would agree.”
“I hoped,” Annette corrected. “Besides, I like the idea that the godmother of my baby is close by in case I need to hurry off to the delivery room.”
“Oh.” Surprise came first, then a flood of delight. “Really?”
“How could you think I wouldn’t ask you?” Annette placed hands on her desk, as if leveraging to rise, only to stop when the phone on her desk buzzed. “Has he arrived, Carolyn?” she asked her secretary.
“Yes, Ms. Shepherd,” came the voice over the speaker phone. “He just walked up,” she added with a sigh.
“Send him right in, please.”
“Send who in?” Jill asked.
“Michael.”
Jill’s mouth went dry at the mention of the man who’d found his way into far too many of her thoughts. And dreams. Her stomach turned rock hard with tension.
Whatever pleasure she felt from Annette asking her to be godmother evaporated. “Michael?” she repeated, berating herself for letting emotion direct her decision.
The door opened. God, even without facing him she could feel the intensity of his gaze on her back. She could feel the involuntary thrill that caused her heart to bump in her chest.
“You asked to see me?”
“Come in, Michael,” Annette said. “You remember Jill, of course.”
“I just came in from a work site. I’m a little on the dusty side.”
Jill finally turned just enough so she could glance over her shoulder. He stood in the doorway with his hip cocked and thumbs tucked in the front pockets of his jeans. Her gaze, of its own, lowered to take in a pair of older, dust-covered boots. The man might be head of acquisitions and development, but he often spent time out of the office at a project. Though he’d obviously tried to rake his hair into some order with his fingers, she could just as easily image his dark locks hidden in the shadow of a ten-gallon hat. As was so often the case, the rough texture of his shadowed jaw had her fingers itching to touch. To caress.
Jill knew she should stand but thought it best not to risk her legs giving away how unsteady she felt. She hated this weakness, hated admitting that only Michael Faraway had ever created this kind of feminine struggle within her. When she allowed a man in her life, she preferred one who barely made a ripple in her well-defined order.
“You’re fine,” Annette assured him. “Come in and sit down.”
Michael’s dark eyes stayed centered on her as he crossed the room with assurance in every step and sway of hip. He studied her, tempted her thoughts toward things best left for the private boundaries of her fantasies. It had been like this from their first introduction.
“Michael will be working with you on the renovation for the day care,” Annette explained when Jill turned back around.
“I thought business consulting was Ms. Hatcher’s field of expertise.”
“And what would yours be?” Jill shot back before she could bite down on the words. With deliberation, she gave his dusty clothes a long, measured look. “Calf roping?”
“Bull riding was my specialty.” Tiny lines of humor brought another dimension to his dark eyes. “And I’ve got the belt buckle to prove it.”
The lucky shot hit a bull’s eye in her heart. Blindsided, Jill had no idea what might happen if she moved—what words might escape, or worse, what emotions might see the light of day. Even emotions buried deeply had a way of finding their way to the surface when uncovered. And ghosts had a habit of rising to torment the heart. She kept rigid, holding everything tight within her.
“Uhm, Michael,” Annette began.
Jill whipped her head around, allowing one quick shake rather than voice the plea her throat couldn’t force. She saw her friend’s eyes widen at the uncharacteristic movement. With forced deliberation, Jill took several shallow calming breaths.
“Yes, well.” Annette nodded and cleared her throat. “I’ve managed to talk Jill into staying with the firm to coordinate the setup of the day care and then manage it for the first two months.”
“I see. So did the boss play friendship or business as her trump card?”
Again, in defiance of the emotions bucking in her chest, she shot him a cool stare. “Actually, she used the baby.”
His lips flattened, his eyes narrowed. Jill had to struggle against the unexpected urge to reach out and touch. To soothe and comfort.
“Annette dangled this temporary management position as a way to keep me close by, so I can be with her in the delivery room,” Jill explained.
“Ah.”
Those tense muscles in his face relaxed. Then her stomach muscles gripped tight as he took a long masculine survey over her. Thankful her hands were partially hidden on her lap, she curled her fingers into her palms, digging her nails into tender flesh.
“So, we’ll have the, uh, pleasure of your company for a little longer.”
His lips were curved in a sensuous slant, his voice lowered to a soft caress. As if they were alone in a darkened room where touches said more than words, where promises were believed. And in his gaze was a temptation so dark, so thrilling, Jill felt the spark of a response brush along her every nerve.
He was taunting her, testing her reaction to the veiled implication of his words. As Annette watched. Damn him, Jill cursed even as she reluctantly admired his audacity.
Though it was difficult, she continued to meet his gaze without squirming. After all, if control was to be sustained—and she had every intention of maintaining hers—it was imperative to establish a chokehold on it from the beginning.
“Yes, you will,” she answered. “For no more than three months.”
He stared at her a moment longer, long enough to have a trickle of unease skip down her spine.
“Then we’ll have to make the best use of every minute of those months,” Michael said and returned his attention to Annette. “I should have the rest of the sketches for the renovation completed by the end of the week.”
“Good. In the meantime. . . excuse me,” Annette said when her telephone rang. “Hello?”
Annette’s features softened, and her cheeks flushed with anticipation. A spasm far too close to her heart had Jill remaining silent. A painful memory struck her thoughts, and heart, as she pictured a similar glow on her mother’s face every time she had a new man i
Perhaps it was still true. Since Suzanne Hatcher had abandoned life—and her eight-year-old daughter—in Abilene, Texas, more than eighteen years earlier, Jill couldn’t say for sure whether or not her mother had outgrown the weakness of depending on a man.
“Jill? Michael?” Annette asked. “Could you excuse me, please?” She gestured with the phone in her hand. “I trust the two of you can work out whatever changes or specifications need to be included in the plans.”
Jill stood, trying not to resent her friend’s dismissal. She shifted, but came to an abrupt stop when she nearly bumped into Michael.
“After you,” he said, holding his hands up, palms out. “I’d hate to mess up your dress.” He waited until she’d nearly passed. “We’ll save that for another time,” he murmured.
Jill’s throat went dry as a dust trail, but she managed to keep her steps steady as he followed her out of the office.
“The office you used during your consultation,” Michael said once he closed Annette’s door behind them, “will be part of the renovation area. You’ll have to use the space adjoining my office.”
“I planned to work at home until the renovations are complete.”
“Not practical,” Michael argued as he started down the hall, toward his office. “Things will change quickly if we have any hope of getting the renovations completed by the target date.”
She found it necessary to hurry and catch up with him. “You’ve already decided on a deadline? And the contractor?”
“Yes. Rivers Renovations won the bid. Cole can have the renovations completed within five weeks.”
“Five weeks? Is that realistic?”
“It is if you’re Cole.” Michael stopped at the doorway to his office, abruptly enough that she bumped into his back. “Sorry,” he mumbled, swinging around quickly enough to steady her by gripping her arm with his hand.
Jill’s mind teetered on the brink of total shutdown. He was so close. The fact that they stood outside his office, at the end of a long corridor, lent an intimacy that ignored the fact that anyone could happen upon them.
The hand that held her was firm, steady but not forceful. The eyes that watched her were wary, yet tempting.
Up to this point, their attraction had maintained a polite, safe distance. They had both presented a professional manner despite the underlying heat of temptation. They had both settled for long, speculative glances without either of them making a move. Now she was close enough to reach out and grab what her body continued to insist she wanted.
Not only could she imagine the two of them tangled together, but she could feel the intimacy—the familiarity—of each and every touch and kiss. She really didn’t understand what it was about this man that enticed her with these feelings. Jill wanted to close her eyes and shut off those images, along with the surprising longing, but refused to let him suspect where her thoughts had traveled.
“Sorry,” he repeated, but made no effort to put distance between them. “Looks like I messed up your dress after all.”
“Given the limited time and space of our working together,” she said, not backing down from that intense stare. “I assume it won’t be the last time we bump into one another.”
“We both know it won’t.”
His eyes held a promise that had a thrill skipping down her spine. She jerked it back, buried it deep. “Yes, well, in the office it goes no further than this.”
“And outside the office?” he insisted.
She had no idea. So, she did what she always did, she sidestepped the personal question in favor of focusing on business concerns. “For now, we concentrate on work.”
Walking around him, she kept her gaze focused on the small area that would be her working space. To call it an office would be an exaggeration of the grandest proportions.
Jill had certainly worked in far more cramped circumstances, although none of those had come with the complication of close proximity to a man as dominating as Michael Faraway. It was, she reminded herself philosophically, only temporary.
Both the job and the attraction.
Michael watched Jill study the room, could all but see the gears spinning in her head as she mentally arranged her working space. From what he’d observed during her initial work as consultant, she would place everything, down to the last paper clip, in a specific place.
All neat and tidy, he thought, as he had whenever he’d watched her around the office. And he’d watched her plenty. Just seconds ago, when he’d touched her and their gazes locked, when her guard had slipped a little, he’d glimpsed a riot of emotion flash through her eyes.
Her hair was red with shots of gold, like the horizon at sunset. Though he’d never seen her wear it any way but tucked into a bun or secured in a braid, he could tell her hair was curly, the kind of corkscrew spirals that tempted a man’s hand. And haunted his imagination.
Whenever he saw her, Michael had the sensation of passion bursting forth with one final outpouring before settling in for the night. Whenever he saw her, he wondered if her passion would erupt with flash and fire or if it burned slow and steady with the same methodical calm as she conducted herself.
He had only to figure out whether or not he wanted to be the one to set off that eruption.
“It’ll take a day, maybe two, to get this area in the kind of working order that would appeal to you,” Michael told her.
“And how would you know what appeals to me?”
“I know,” he answered simply.
She turned—no, shifted ever so slightly—so she could look at him over her shoulder. He’d noticed she rarely made unnecessary movements. When she looked at someone with those enormous brown eyes rimmed in green, she did so with directness and assurance.
There was a time when that look would have challenged him, when he would have wanted to know what thoughts went on behind those eyes. There had been a time when he would have reached for, and taken, the thrilling promise he felt whenever they were within inches of one another.
Hell, even with the width of a room between them, he felt it. And he was damn sure she felt it as well.
“Looks like you’ll get a couple of days working at home after all.”
“Annette has my email address and phone number where you can reach me if there are any problems.”
“I can’t imagine there will be.”
“There are specifications that will have to be met.” She turned to fully face him. “There are requirements as to minimum square footage of the rooms, separate allotments for play, nap, and storage areas. If we don’t adhere to each of these specifications, the state won’t issue the license. And that doesn’t even begin to touch the requirements the city of Abilene has in place for historical buildings in the downtown area.”
“As I said, I can’t imagine there will be any problems. If Annette didn’t think I was capable of handling this job, I wouldn’t have been named project coordinator.”
“And she’s asked me to be temporary director. That means I have a say in whatever changes or adjustments are made along the way.”
Michael stepped further into the cramped room. He wanted to see just how far and hard he would have to push before her surface composure cracked. “Just tell me what it is that you require, Jill, and I’ll do my best to satisfy you.”
Though she made no move in retreat, no sound protesting his nearness, he felt her tense in response to his thinly veiled comment.
“It’s nice to know I have your cooperation, Michael. Along with a willingness to accept suggestions.”
Her voice cooled while caution and a strange sense of vulnerability that had him questioning the source crept into her gaze. It certainly wasn’t the kind of reaction he expected.
“You’ll find that I’m always open to suggestions,” he said. “Of any kind.”
“Yes, well, it’s a relief to know we both understand there are certain, shall we say, limitations, that will influence every decision we make in the next several weeks.”
He nearly smiled when he saw the faintest blush bloom on her neck. So, she wasn’t nearly as aloof as she wanted him to believe. “Shall I draw up a contract?”
