Michelle Monkou - One to Love

Thanks, Tawny, for flashing me that photo treat.

“Barely three months to finish.” Now he looked closely at her vision board.

“Is that a problem?” She stood and matched his crossed-arms stance.

“Why are you building such a large riding ring? Plus, you’re adding a building.”

“Renovating,” she corrected, not liking his accusatory tone.

“A lot of horses.”

“A lot of children.”

He frowned. “Thought it was also a horse-training stable for jumping.”

“Why would you think so?”

“I figured you competed. You’ve got the body for it.” He spread his arms wide and offered the first real smile she’d seen with a flash of bright white. “Just being on the up-and-up. No harm. No foul.”

Immediately, her cheeks warmed. The compliment rushed at her like a rogue wave and covered her in tingly excitement. But enough willpower kicked in to keep her from giggling like a nitwit.

“You’d wear those skintight pants. The little black helmet tied under your chin.” He grinned. “I’ve seen it on TV.”

“Are you quite finished?”

He opened his mouth to respond.

She waved off any further trek down this strange, winding path. “Don’t answer that.”

“Hey, I’m just paying you a compliment.” He returned to his seat and settled in, resting his elbows on his knees. “I see the brains with all of that on the wall and the beauty right in front of me.”

“Thanks.” Holding off this man and his penchant for flirtation needed to be handled like ripping off a Band-Aid. “Cheesy compliments are unnecessary.”

“But, I’m sure they were not unwelcome.” Again, the smile flashed.

Did he wink his left eye? Her gaze narrowed. Unfortunately, her body’s reaction wanted to listen to his drivel. Her cheeks hadn’t cooled down over his last comments, and the temperature in the room had escalated a notch.

Belinda struggled to stay on firm ground. “You do realize this is an interview.”

He shrugged.

“Don’t know? Or don’t care?”

“I’m open to whatever you may need.”

“What I need is someone who is serious about working. What I want is for this job to be completed on time.” Talking about her dream project was the perfect wall to ward off the effects of his flirtation. “Are you up for the job?”

“My father seems to think so.”

“You sound doubtful.”

“Not really. I’m holding down the job until Dad gets better.”

Belinda didn’t care for his plain speak, in this instance. “Because you may head back to playing soccer?”

Light to dark. Amusement to irritation. Expressions flitted across his face, accompanied by the stiff set of his shoulders. A nerve had been plucked. It was accidental on her part, though, since she didn’t know enough about him to judge potential landmines.

“My only plan right now is to help out with projects,” he replied with a measured tone. “Yours included.”

In other words, she had to back away from soccer chitchat.

“Do you mind if I get a cup of water?” He headed for the nearby cooler before she nodded. “You?”

“Sure. Thank you. I should’ve offered.” Belinda waited for Jesse to bring the water. This man intrigued her, with his steady level of confidence evident as he moved around her office. Despite him being off the field, his body appeared fit. Even her inexperienced eye spotted the overall well-toned physique. Her imagination guessed that the rest of him was equally hard and ripped. She couldn’t stop recalling the photo of Jesse celebrating a goal with his shirt off. Sweaty and victorious looked damned good on him.

“Here ya go.” He handed her the cup.

She carefully took the drink from him, afraid to touch his hand, no matter how briefly. There was no need for a repeat of the shock to her system that had taken her by surprise. She sipped the water in an attempt to cool her emotional jets. “Let’s get back to our discussion. This is a personal endeavor that has nothing to do with equestrian competition or training show horses. Far from it. It’s about bringing joy and changing the lives of a special group of children through the use of horses.” She wanted him to understand. Otherwise, there could be no business connection between them.

“Is there a great need for this type of business? In this area?” His continued doubt poured out with each question.

“Whether I help one person or twenty, it’s worth it. Do you have any experience with working on stables, riding rings, fences?”

“Yeah.”

She waited for further explanation. None seemed to be forthcoming. “How did you learn?”

“My father. Shoulder to shoulder, we worked on a lot of things when I was younger. I can show you all my scars.” He raised his hands and flicked them to show the back, and then the palms, of his hands. No scars or calluses were visible. Instead, she noted the long, blunt fingers with veins and muscles leading up to lean forearms. “These hands have seen a lot of action.” He interlocked said hands and rested them on his lap.

A lot of action . Her truth? She loved a man’s hands. You could see strength and beauty, gentleness and caring—all necessary parts of a man’s character—there. Her analysis had never steered her wrong. Nice hands meant a sensitive touch, from casual communication to intimate cuddling, sexy foreplay and beyond.

Belinda took another sip of water.

“What have been some recent projects that you’ve worked on?”

“I’ve helped out my father on several assignments around town. There was nothing that I couldn’t do.” His blasé tone turned curt, precise. “And references aren’t a problem.” His cell phone rang with a horrendous series of chimes. He looked at the screen and pushed to connect. “Do you mind if I get this?”

Belinda waved him on.

With the phone at his ear, he strolled out the office.

After Jesse left to take his call, Belinda worried. In all the scenarios of her dreams, she’d never envisioned the project incomplete. The image of things unraveling made her panicky. And the arrival on the scene of Jesse, equipped with more blatant sex appeal than possible construction management expertise, didn’t quiet her unease.

Waiting for him to finish his call, all she could do was take a seat, cross her arms and stare at the timeline. One option would be to wait for Ed to recuperate and get the facility built to her specifications without drama. Another option was finding another contractor, but Dreamweaver Riding Program had a scheduled start date in three months. And nothing so far was supporting that time frame. She reached for the bottle of antacids.

“And where the hell is Tawny?” Belinda muttered. Her assistant had the knack of calming her. As she exited her office to look for Tawny, she heard Jesse still on the phone. By now, she didn’t care if he had a call. He was on her time. But there wasn’t any sign of him.

Instead of holding his call in the office, apparently he’d taken the call outside. Before she took another step, his voice escalated. It was intense, possibly angry. She froze.

“I’m not going to change my mind. Olivier, it’s been over. Chapter closed. A documentary on my life? Are you kidding me?” Jesse’s laugh held little humor. “Not happening because I know it’s going to somehow get twisted in my supposed comeback as the final point of this publicity stunt to get the fans worked up. I don’t need the pressure.” His footsteps marked the small area.

Belinda pressed against the wall. Her heart thudded its rapid drumbeat.

Not until she heard his feet resume their pacing did she exhale. His angry statements were now indecipherable mumbles. She inched closer, pushing away any guilt at eavesdropping. She would save feeling guilty for when she was caught. To hear him so agitated shocked her. What happened to his casual cockiness?