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.