Читать книгу The Texan's Twins - Pamela Britton - Страница 11
ОглавлениеHandsome, arrogant, spoiled son of a gun.
Jet Baron.
Jasmine pointed her truck toward a barely there strip of road, telling herself to forget the man in her rearview mirror.
Why don’t we meet for breakfast?
Okay, so she could admit he was beyond gorgeous. And okay, so she hadn’t been prepared for the walking mass of masculine virility that was Jet Baron. Seriously. No wonder he’d been voted bachelor of the year two years running by Dallas magazine. The man was serious heartthrob material. So what?
You’re going to have to work with that walking mass of male virility.
The back end of her truck kicked out. She gasped, then took her foot off the gas. The flat, sun-baked Texas pasture stretched out around her like something from the Old West, nothing but open space for miles, but if she wasn’t careful, she might wrap her truck around one of the rare trees that dotted the landscape.
Why did he have to be so good-looking?
And why had everything inside her frozen the moment she’d realized who was behind the wheel? She’d seen pictures of him before. Of course she’d seen them. Who in the business hadn’t heard of Jet Baron? And he’d thought she was a stripper. A stripper.
It had taken nearly a year to find a job in the male-dominated industry. A year. And in the end it’d been a woman who had hired her. She wasn’t going to blow it because, miraculously, there appeared to be one latent hormone floating around her sex-starved body.
Sex starved?
Yes, she admitted to herself, turning onto the main road, a long stretch of blacktop so straight it ended in an arrowhead. It had been years. Unfortunately, Jet Baron stirred urges within her—urges she hadn’t felt since becoming a mother to two adorable, wonderful twins. She was a single working mother who didn’t have time to eat at a stupid coffee shop, much less get involved with a man.
She was still unsettled the next morning as she walked through the glass entry of Baron Energies. They were on the upper floors of a downtown high-rise. The receptionist, whose name she couldn’t remember, smiled as she walked by.
“Good morning,” Jasmine said hurriedly.
She’d overslept, not surprising since one of the twins had an earache and the other had decided 1:00 a.m. was the perfect time to start jumping up and down on her bed. Lord, she felt like the walking dead. Somehow she’d gotten Brooke’s breakfast smeared on her dress. The oatmeal had left a white stain on the black fabric of her dress that she hoped was covered by her suit jacket, and she had a sinking suspicion that a Cheerio—part of Gwen’s breakfast—had fallen down her bra. The moment she passed the reception area she paused, trying to angle her head to see down the swooped neckline.
“Ah, here she is.”
The blood drained from Jasmine’s face when she looked up. Lizzie Baron. She stood next to the conference room, her dark hair pulled back from her face, a soft blue dress hugging the gentle swell of her pregnant belly. Damn. Just what she needed. The boss.
But she wasn’t alone.
Next to her stood a man on crutches and she’d seen enough company literature to know who it was. Double damn.
Brock Baron.
“Dad, this is the new engineer I was telling you about.” Elizabeth motioned with her hands, a warm smile on her face, which Jasmine appreciated given that she’d been caught coming in late. “Graduated summa cum laude from Berkeley. Interned at the USGS headquarters. We’re real fortunate to have her.”
The man who’d founded Baron Energies and built it into a multimillion-dollar corporation might be on crutches, but he was still imposing. Tall and slim, his gray hair was slicked back from his head. He had blue eyes and a gaze that scanned her from head to toe, and not in a good way. She could tell there was something about her appearance that he didn’t like. Had he spotted the oatmeal stain?
“This is J. C. Marks?”
And she knew.
Just as Jet Baron had been shocked by her gender yesterday, so, too, was Mr. Baron.
“This is her.” She heard the edge of false bravado in Elizabeth’s voice.
“Hello, Mr. Baron.” She put on her best and biggest smile and moved forward. “I’m so glad to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you from my father that I feel like we’ve already met.”
He adjusted his crutches so he could shake her hand. “Who’s your father, honey?”
Honey. In Texas the word was used by men as much as miss or ma’am, but she had a feeling Brock had used it to make a point to his daughter.
“James ‘Mad Hatter’ Marks.”
She’d used her dad’s nickname on purpose, and just as she’d expected, one of Mr. Baron’s gray brows shot up. He peered at her intently. “Huh.” He seemed to relax a bit. “You look like him.”
She turned up the wattage of her smile. “Thank you, sir. My momma always said my daddy was a handsome man.”
“Your momma was Caroline Carter, then.”
She felt a familiar pang. Her mom had died when she was young, but not a day went by when she didn’t think about her or miss her. It was the same way with her dad.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good woman, Caroline.”
Touched that he remembered her, Jasmine swallowed back the knot of emotion his words had evoked. “Thank you, sir.”
“You haven’t seen Jet, have you?” Lizzie stepped forward. “We were just in his office and he wasn’t there.”
Big surprise. She didn’t say the words out loud, but she was thinking them. She had a feeling Lizzie was thinking them, too.
“No. I haven’t, but we’re supposed to meet this morning so I’m sure he’s around here somewhere.”
Listen to you making excuses for the boss’s son. Clearly, you’re a sucker for a handsome face.
“I guess we’ll keep on looking, then.”
But Jet’s sister didn’t look hopeful. Who could blame her?
The office was a bit of a maze. The conference room to her right overlooked the Dallas skyline. Opposite, in the interior, were offices, including the office of the CEO. One of her coworkers had told her that Brock’s office was up front near the reception desk. He liked to eavesdrop on the people who called his company, and he had a habit of going out to the reception area and greeting visitors, even if they weren’t there to see him. She suspected he was something of a control freak.
“If you see him, let him know we’re looking for him. Come on, Dad. Let’s get you back to your office so you can sit back down.”
Brock grumbled something about overprotective women, but he nodded at her as he passed. Lizzie Baron stood slightly behind him and so Mr. Baron didn’t see the thank-you she silently mouthed in J.C.’s direction, although why Lizzie would thank her she had no idea. She’d been late to work for goodness’ sake. She should be apologizing to Lizzie.
Her second surprise of the day sat in her office. She drew up short at the sight of a pair of dusty, worn work boots resting on the edge of her desk, a sheaf of papers in his lap, one of them held up in front of him.
“Your dad’s looking for you.”
The boots slammed down. He about came out of his chair. “What?”
“Your dad. He’s here. I bumped into him near the conference room.”
He leaned back again. “Oh, great.”
“You might want to let them know you’re here. I have a feeling they both thought you were playing hooky.”
“Of course they think that. And just because of that, I think I’ll make them wait.” He put his boots back up.
“Get your feet off my desk.”
Those eyes. Those damn green eyes. They didn’t just twinkle, they seemed to...wink at her.
“My, my, my. We’re in a bad mood.”
Yeah, she sort of was. She hadn’t expected to meet the CEO of the company this morning. The man was as sharp as a tack, and while Lizzie didn’t seem to mind her being late, she was certain Brock Baron had taken note of it. Plus, she’d been hoping to fish that damn Cheerio out of her bra once in the confines of her office.
“What’s the matter? Late night out with the boyfriend?”
She jerked her chair out from beneath her desk, although if she were honest with herself, she was almost relieved to have exchanged her twins for the overgrown child sitting across from her. He was much easier to handle. Despite having Brock Baron as a father, Jet was probably just playing at working until he could get back to his carefree life. Oh, yeah, Lizzie Baron had filled her in on the gritty details yesterday before their meeting. It seemed her brother had been ordered back to work. With Lizzie pregnant, the family hoped Jet would take over her duties. As if that would happen. She would stake her favorite pair of pj’s that he wouldn’t last two weeks. “Late night putting together that report I promised you, which I see you received in your email this morning.” She tried to pull together the ends of her frazzled nerves. First Brock, now Jet. The bitch of it was, the report she’d put together probably wouldn’t even be read by Jet for all that he appeared to be thumbing through it.
“Yeah, thanks.” He glanced up and finally let loose the wink she’d seen in his eyes. “Appreciate the hard work. Looks like we’re ready to break ground.”
Something about that wink made her want to grind her teeth. It was as if he knew how good-looking he was. As if he thought he could cram pencils up his nose and still charm the pants off her, or the panty hose as the case may be. This morning he wore a white polo shirt with the Baron Energies logo across the left breast. It made his skin, already bronzed by the sun, appear even darker. His green eyes were framed by dark lashes. He looked like his father, she realized, although the eyes were completely different.
“Not until we find a better price on the aggregate.” She flipped open her laptop. “I was told the supplier is a friend of your father, but he doesn’t seem like a friend to me.”
Maybe she should mention her concerns to Mr. Baron himself now that he was in the office. Then again, maybe she should leave well enough alone. More than likely her presence in his office had come as a shock. Well, her female presence. He probably wouldn’t welcome hearing her ideas on one of his projects. Not yet, at least. Not until she proved she was every bit as good at her job as a man.
“Yeah, I saw that. Five hundred a load seemed exorbitant.”
Her fingers froze on the keys, and she had to work to keep her mouth from dropping open. “I was going to send out an RFP.”
“No reason to do that. Let me make a few calls. Pretty sure I can get a better deal.”
Clearly, he had read the report. “I’m also not very happy with the cost of the drilling crew.”
“That I can explain.” He set the sheaf of papers down on her desk. Jasmine tried hard to keep from gawking at the new and more serious Jet. “McCoy Drilling is owned by one of my dad’s oldest friends. We all know he pads the numbers, but Dad doesn’t mind. When my dad was younger, Oscar helped him through some tough times and my dad’s been supporting him ever since.”
Not only had he read it, he’d absorbed it, too. And he knew something about costing a project if he’d noted where they could cut corners. She leaned back in surprise.
It was like discovering the high heels you’d been wearing all day were dark blue instead of black, and you’d been traipsing around town in a black dress and blue shoes. She couldn’t quite reconcile the image of Jet the dilettante with Jet the diligent.
“Yes, well, family friend or no, I would still like to send out a few RFPs to other drilling companies.”
“Sure.” His smile grew. “Never hurts to try, but my dad can be pretty stubborn.”
Based on her initial impression of the man, she wouldn’t be surprised. “Duly noted.”
His gaze slid past her to the photos on her bookcase, and Jasmine immediately tensed. She tried to move sideways to block his view. Too late.
“Are those your nieces?”
No, no, no. She didn’t want to answer questions about Gwen and Brooke. Not today. Not when she was so tired she felt as if she needed to keep her eyes open with Scotch tape and when she was completely off-kilter because of the man sitting across from her.
“Was there anything else you wanted to talk about, Mr. Baron?”
“Are they twins?”
She resisted the urge to rest her head on her arms and groan. Where was a restart button when you needed one?
“I’d like to meet again in a couple days, if you don’t mind. I was hoping to forward our final numbers to your sister by the end of the week.”
“Good Lord, are they yours?”
“If there’s nothing else—”
“They are yours, aren’t they?”
He appeared genuinely filled with consternation, and yet also interested in the photo of the girls on Santa’s lap. And not the least bit repulsed, which surprised the heck out of her for some reason. She didn’t figure him for a family guy.
“Yes, they’re twins.”
His gaze dropped to her left hand and Jasmine resisted the urge to tuck it in her lap. Too late. He’d spotted the ringless finger, too.
“Divorced?”
“Mr. Baron, as much as I’d like to sit here and chat about my personal life, I have a million things to do today, so if we’re through here...”
She stood.
He leaned back and put his boots on her desk again. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist.”
Her knickers in a what? “Get your feet off my desk.”
“Actually, I think the desk is owned by my family, and I’m just curious. You don’t want to talk about your personal life, that’s fine, but you may want to sit back down because we have some more things to go over.”
What in heaven’s name could he have to discuss with her? Plus, she just plain didn’t want to sit back down. She wanted to order him from her office, but she couldn’t do that. Technically, he was her boss and, technically, as project manager, he might have something to contribute. Goodness, he might actually be doing his job.
“What do you need?”
She thought he might insist on her answering him, but he seemed to take the hint. “You have an error on page twenty.”
She had a— “What?”
“You have 20K on your cost analysis to dig and line the pits, but you put 10K in the projected budget.”
She flipped to the page in question, certain he was wrong, but—nope—there it was in black-and-white. She’d grabbed a bad number.
“And then I don’t see the costs for cement. You did a cost analysis for the pad, but you didn’t pick up that cost in the final budget.”
She scanned the page, her cheeks suddenly as flaming hot as a natural-gas flare. She scanned a column and discovered he was right. She’d failed to include the cost for cement. It wasn’t a huge expense. Compared to the others, it was a drop in the bucket, but the fact that she’d forgotten...
“Mr. Baron—”
“Jet,” he corrected.
“Jet, I don’t know what to say. I went over those numbers three times. I was certain I’d grabbed everything, but clearly I didn’t.”
“Relax. These things happen. That’s my job, to look over the engineering costs, combine them with labor and materials and other expenses, and to make sure everyone is on the same page. We’ll just change them before we submit the proposal to my sister for final approval and we’re good to go.”
She shouldn’t have been in such a hurry to get him the numbers. She should have just taken her time, sent them to him later, but she was so tired, she honestly didn’t know if she’d have caught them later on, either.
“You look exhausted.”
Her head snapped up. She tried to control her expression so that he didn’t see how close to the mark his words had hit. Didn’t work. He tipped his head to the side, and all Jasmine could think was what a waste of a good-looking man. Too bad he couldn’t seem to concentrate on any one thing at a time—including his private life based on what she’d heard. Still, someone out there would likely try to snatch him up, if for no other reason than his last name. She, however, would steer clear.
As if he would ever find a single mother of two attractive, she thought. Just the fact that he’d noticed how tired she was said it all.
“Yeah, well, my life is kind of crazy right now.”
“All the more reason for you to join me on a little field trip today. Guaranteed to perk you up.”
A field trip?
“I can’t.”
“Sure you can. Since you’re new to the company, I thought I’d take you on a tour of our facilities.”
She didn’t trust the look on his face, nor the gleam in his eyes. “Mr. Baron—”
“Jet,” he corrected again.
“Jet,” she said with what she hoped was a gracious smile. “I’m really busy today. I’m sorry, but it’s just not going to work.”
“Sure it is, and since I’m supposed to be taking over as boss, I insist.”
She blinked a few times as she tried to gather her thoughts. “And since I’m an employee of Baron Energies, it’s my duty to tell you that if you take me away from my desk today, it will put me behind.”
“You can catch up later.” He stood.
She felt her mouth drop open. The man really didn’t know how to take no for an answer. “Your sister asked for my opinion on another upcoming project.”
“My sister can wait.” He smiled. The man was like a handsome male feline, one with gorgeous black-and-gold coloring and emerald-green eyes and who looked upon the world as if he owned it, tomcat tail straight in the air. “As our newest engineer, you need to familiarize yourself with our assets, unless, of course, you’ve already had a tour.”
She didn’t answer.
“Didn’t think so.” He glanced at his cell phone. “Meet me out in front in an hour. I’ll change the numbers and forward this to my sister.”
“Wait!” she called as he moved to leave her office. “I can change the numbers.”
“No need. I’ll do it. It’s my job.”
“Where did you want to take me?”
He smiled. “I’m a helicopter pilot and twice a year I do an aerial check for HCFs. I’m sure you know the drill.”
She did, indeed, know the drill. An aerial survey of hydrocarbon fallout. The EPA mandated such inspections. She was just surprised he was the one that did them. Sure, she’d known he was a pilot, but she assumed that meant he flitted from this rodeo to that.
“How often do you fly?”
The smile grew, catlike green eyes glowing. “Any chance I get.” He bounced up on his toes like a teenage boy. “See you in an hour.”
And he was gone. She sank down in her chair and covered her face with her hands. Working with Jet Baron wouldn’t be easy. Not only did she doubt his commitment to Baron Energies, at least judging by the corporate rumor mill, but there was one other little problem.
She was having a hard time focusing, and not because she was tired, but because his sparkling eyes made her toes curl and because his boyish smile had made her wish, for the briefest of moments, that a man like Jet might find a single mother of twins attractive.
That was the biggest problem of all.
