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News. Plain-old news, no excessive commentary. She knew the channel. She kept it on at the office so the weather didn’t take her unawares. The last thing she needed was more delays on the Shora project. Her job was supposed to have been done two months ago, but the earliest stages had been held up by “local” protesters. It’d turned out that none of them lived within ten miles of the development. They simply hadn’t liked the idea of another—albeit underutilized—tract of land being turned into someplace livable. Then came the permit issues, which had been one nonstop headache. Folks didn’t know what to make of a mixed-use development. Obviously, the idea of putting a grocery store within walking distance of a neighborhood was a foreign concept out in the sticks.
She and the rest of the folks on-site had been working at a breakneck pace since the project got the green light, and she was more motivated than anyone to reach the finish line. The project she had lined up for after Shora—the one shereallywanted—was contingent on her getting out of Shora in time. If she didn’t, her worry wasn’t that she wouldn’t get assigned to something else. Her biggest fear was getting saddled with another boring residential project in some middle-of-nowhere place no one cared about. She wanted that Miami job. She wanted something she could start from scratch with and not just piggyback on after the developer had already worked out which cookie-cutter styles to recycle from the last subdivision.
And she wanted tobesomewhere—in a place with a name people recognized.
No one had ever heard of the places Lipton had assigned her. Shora, North Carolina? McKeeson, Tennessee? Spotsneck, Georgia?
Same thing over and over again.
She was ready for something big—something career-changing.
Letting her lips sputter, she clutched her purse tighter as Tim put his foot on the accelerator again. She could be cordial and make conversation. She could consider it her good deed for the week. “So, what annoying thing do you have living in your phone?” she asked.
“Annoyingthings.” Tim’s chuckle was deep and as rich as he was. “I’ve got one foreman who can’t make a decision without consulting an oracle, another foreman who I suspect was Napoleon in a past life, and a—” Tim closed his lips on whatever it was he was going to say, so ofcourseValerie turned to look at him.
She’d been trying so hard not to look—not to stare. She’d seen him in photographs before, but he’d always been partially obscured. He always had on one of those salt-faded baseball caps that men who spent a lot of time on boats seemed to wear, and mirrored sunglasses. All she’d been able to tell from those pictures was that he had a competent dentist, probably used sunblock regularly, and that he didn’t bother shaving too closely.
In the flesh, he had an enthralling quality that made him almost too hard to stare at. Those steely eyes. That slanted smile that seemed as much of a warning as it was a sign of humor.
Tim Dowd was handsome, yes, but his carriage and confidence were what had her reflexively rubbing her thighs together.
She wasn’t sure if it was dominance or magic, but he was hitting her radar as the sort of man she’d consider going home with. Too bad she didn’t do that anymore. No commitments, no random hook-ups, no distractions—in spite of what Leah would have her do.
Leah should have been able to come up with enough reasons on her own for why Valerie chose to be single, even without knowing the salacious bits. Their father had gone out for cigarettes a couple of days after Leah was born and never returned. He’d left their mother with two children under two, a big stack of bills, and no options. Their mother’s career prospects dried up and never got back on track. When she’d died fifteen years ago, she was in exactly the same place she’d been when Valerie was born—an adjunct professor still praying for tenure.
That wasn’t going to happen to Valerie. She’d sworn off distractions of all sorts to be sure of it.
“Have you ever been on a boat?” Tim’s deep voice pulled her from her despondent musings.
Furrowing her brow, she looked up at him. “I’m sorry? What?”
“Aboat. Have you ever been on one?”
“Oh.” She shrugged. “Well, ferries and cruise ships. A pontoon boat, once. Why?”
“So, you’ve never been on a yacht?”
She scoffed put her gaze on the road ahead. The new asphalt was ending. She cringed as the truck shuddered over the rougher, older surface. “No. People who own yachts don’t tend to run in my circles. I’m way too middle-class. Again, why do you ask?”
He hit his blinker switch and cut across the road to the left turn lane. “I’m docked nearby. Mind if I get your opinion on something?”
“On something pertaining to boats?”
“Hey, sure.”
Valerie pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a breath.What is it with people tonight?“Try again and sound a little more sure of yourself.”
He made some low, purring sound that she supposed was chuckling, but she couldn’t be sure. She could hardly think through the pounding of her pulse in her ears. It was the laugh of a satisfied man—one used to having his way—and she wasn’t so naive to think he wouldn’t try to have his way withher.
Her brain betrayed her, flooding her mind with thoughts of what Tim Dowd having his way might look like—teasing her with the possibility that those rough hands of his would restrain her.
Tease her.
Undoher.
She dragged her tongue across her dry lips and tried to regulate her rough breathing.
She could go home and put fresh batteries in her vibrator so she could slake the ache between her legs, or she could relent for just one night and embrace flesh instead of cold plastic.
