Barbara Dunlop - Twelve Nights Of Temptation

Tasha was using a vacant office in the main marina building at the edge of the company pier. The place was a sprawling, utilitarian building, first constructed in 1970, with major additions built in 2000 and 2010. Its clay-colored steel siding protected against the wind and salt water.

Inside, the client area was nicely decorated, as were Matt’s and the sales manager’s offices. But down the hall, where the offices connected to the utility areas and eventually to the boat garage and the small dry dock, the finishing was more Spartan. Even still, she felt pretentious sitting behind a wooden desk with a guest chair in front.

She’d been through four applicants so far. One and two were nonstarters. They were handymen rather than certified marine mechanics. The third one had his certification, but something about him made Tasha cautious. He was a little too eager to list his accomplishments. He was beyond self-confident, bordering on arrogant. She didn’t see him fitting in at Whiskey Bay.

The fourth applicant had been five minutes late. Not a promising start.

But then a woman appeared in the doorway. “My apologies,” she said in a rush as she entered.

Tasha stood. “Alex Dumont?”

“Yes.” The woman smiled broadly as she moved forward, holding out her hand.

Tasha shook it, laughing at herself for having made the assumption that Alex was a man.

“Alexandria,” the woman elaborated, her eyes sparkling with humor.

“Of all people, I shouldn’t make gender assumptions.”

“It happens so often, I don’t even think about it.”

“I hear you,” Tasha said. “Please, sit down.”

“At least with the name Tasha nobody makes that mistake.” Alex settled into the chair. “Though I have to imagine you’ve been written off a few times before they even met you.”

“I’m not sure which is worse,” Tasha said.

“I prefer the surprise value. That’s why I shortened my name. I have to say this is the first time I’ve been interviewed by a woman.”

Alex was tall, probably about five foot eight. She had wispy, wheat-blond hair, a few freckles and a pretty smile. If Tasha hadn’t seen her résumé, she would have guessed she was younger than twenty-five.

“You’re moving from Chicago?” Tasha asked, flipping through the three pages of Alex’s résumé.

“I’ve already moved, three weeks ago.”

“Any particular reason?” Tasha was hoping for someone who would stay in Whiskey Bay for the long term.

“I’ve always loved the West Coast. But mostly, it was time to make a break from the family.”

Tasha could relate to that. “They didn’t support your career choice?” she guessed.

“No.” Alex gave a little laugh. “Quite the opposite. My father and two brothers are mechanics. They wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“Did you work with them?”

“At first. Then I got a job with another company. It didn’t help. They still interrogated me every night and gave me advice on whatever repair I was undertaking.”

“You lived with them?”

“Not anymore.”

Tasha couldn’t help contrasting their experiences. “I grew up in Boston. My parents wanted me to find a nice doctor or lawyer and become a wife instead of a mechanic. Though they probably would have settled for me being a landscape painter or a dancer.”

“Any brothers and sisters?”

“Two sisters. Both married to lawyers.” Tasha didn’t like to dwell on her family. It had been a long time since she’d spoken to them. She stopped herself now, and went back to Alex’s résumé. “At Schneider Marine, you worked on both gas and diesel engines?”

“Yes. Gas, anywhere from 120-horse outboards and up, and diesel, up to 550.”

“Any experience on Broadmores?”

“Oh, yeah. Finicky buggers, those.”

“We have two of them.”

“Well, I’ve got their number.”

Tasha couldn’t help but smile. This was the kind of confidence she liked. “And you went to Riverside Tech?”

“I did. I finished my apprenticeship four years ago. I can get you a copy of my transcript if you need it.”

Tasha shook her head. “I’m more interested in your recent experience. How much time on gasoline engines versus diesel?”

“More diesel, maybe seventy-five/twenty-five. Lots of service, plenty of rebuilds.”

“Diagnostics?”

“I was their youngest mechanic, so I wasn’t afraid of the new scan tools.”

“You dive right in?” Tasha was liking Alex more and more as the interview went on.

“I dive right in.”

“When can you start?”

Alex grinned. “Can you give me a few days to unpack?”

“Absolutely.”

Both women came to their feet.

“Then, I’m in,” Alex said.

Tasha shook her hand, excited at the prospect of another female mechanic in the company. “Welcome aboard.”

Alex left, but a few minutes later, Tasha was still smiling when Matt came through the door.

“What?” he asked.

“What?” she returned, forcibly dampening her exhilaration at the sight of him.

She couldn’t do this. She wouldn’t do this. They had an employer-employee relationship, not a man-woman relationship.

“You’re smiling,” he said.

“I’m happy.”

“About what?”

“I love my job.”

“Is that all?”

“You don’t think I love my job?” She did love it. And she had a feeling she’d love it even more with Alex around.

“I was hoping you were happy to see me.”

“Matt.” She put a warning in her voice.

“Are we going to just ignore it?”

She quickly closed the door to make sure nobody could overhear. “Yes, we’re going to ignore it.”

“By it, I mean our kiss.”

She folded her arms over her chest and gave him a glare. “I know what you mean.”

“Just checking,” he said, looking dejected.

“Stop.” She wasn’t going to be emotionally manipulated.

“I’m not going to pretend. I miss you.”

“There’s nothing to miss. I’m right here.”

“Prepared to talk work and only work.”

“Yes.”

He was silent for a moment. “Fine. Okay. I’ll take it.”

“Good.” She knew with absolute certainty that it was for the best.

He squared his shoulders. “Who was that leaving?”

“That was Alex Dumont. She’s our new mechanic.”

Matt’s brows went up. “We have a new mechanic?”

“You knew I was hiring one.”

“But...”

Tasha couldn’t help an inward sigh. She’d seen this reaction before. “But...she’s a woman.”

“That’s not what I was going to say. I was surprised, is all.”

“That she was light on testosterone?”

“You keep putting words in my mouth.”

“Well, you keep putting expressions in your eyes.”

He opened his mouth, but then he seemed to think better of whatever he’d planned to say.

“What?” she asked before she could stop herself.

“Nothing.” He took a backward step. “I’m backing off. This is me backing off.”

“From who I hire?”

Matt focused in on her eyes. His eyes smoldered, and she felt desire arc between them.

“I can feel it from here,” he said, as if he was reading her mind.

Her brain stumbled. “There’s...uh... I’m...”

“You can’t quite spit out the lie, can you?”

She couldn’t. Lying wouldn’t help. “We have to ignore it.”

“Why?”

“We do. We do, Matt.”

There was a long beat of silence.

“I have a date Saturday night,” he said.

A pain crossed her chest, but she steeled herself. “No kidding.”

“I don’t date that much.”

“I don’t pay any attention.”

It was a lie. From the staff quarters, she’d seen him leave his house on the hill on many occasions, dressed to the nines. She’d often wondered where he’d gone, whom he’d been with, how late he’d come home.