possibly build a massive project like this when you’re…How far along are you, anyway?”
“About seven months,” she fudged. Really she was closer to eight, but she didn’t look that far along.
“How are you going to lift big pieces of lumber and climb ladders in your condition?”
“I’ve checked with my nurse-practitioner. I know my limitations. Besides, I’ve been working out at the gym every day. I’m strong as a broodmare. The harder I work, the better I feel. Just…just please give me a chance. I’m sure people have believed in you your whole life, but I haven’t had that luxury.”
“Doesn’t your husband object to your doing this kind of work?”
Susan fingered the plain gold band on her left hand. It was her mother’s. She’d started wearing it when she got tired of explaining to people that she didn’t have a husband.
She could tell Rand the truth—that she wasn’t married and never had been, that the father of her baby had abandoned her before he even knew she was pregnant, that she was all alone in the world and nothing stood between her and the street except this job.
But she didn’t want his pity. She wanted him to have faith in her. “My husband is not a problem.”
He looked down at his shoes. Was it possible she was making headway? She decided to press her advantage, if she did indeed have one.
“Although the shelves and cabinetry look massive on paper, this particular project doesn’t require much heavy work, and Clark promised to help. The lumberyard will do all the big cuts for me, so I won’t have to lift whole pieces of lumber or anything like that.”
“Do you have insurance?” he asked.
“Yes, of course. I can show you the policy—”
“No, that’s not necessary.” He paused, staring out the window. He seemed to be deliberating.
She held her breath. Please, please, please.
He came closer, until he was only a step away from her, and eyed her up and down, making her feel like he was the stallion to that broodmare she’d mentioned earlier. What did he see? And did he like it? And why was she even wondering something so stupid?
“I guess since I signed a contract, I have no choice.”
She resisted the urge to throw her arms around him in gratitude and instead grasped both his hands. “You won’t be sorry, I promise. I’ll build you the best damn bookshelf you ever saw!”
“Um, yes, right.” He extracted his hands from her enthusiastic grip. “But I don’t want to see you endangering yourself or your baby. I mean that. Contract or no contract, I will throw you out in a New York minute if you so much as—”
“I won’t.”
“You’ll be able to finish the job before your, er, family addition arrives, right?”
Susan felt a lump rising in her throat. Family addition. That was ironic, seeing as she had no family. She forced a smile. “This job should take two weeks—well, three, tops.” And she was a good four weeks from her due date. That was cutting it a bit close, but she was pretty sure she could make it.
Chapter Two
“I just need to get my stepladder off the truck so I can finish the measurements,” Susan said.
Rand felt like he’d just been through a tornado. Had he really agreed to let a pregnant woman build his bookcases? But she was damn persuasive. He could see now why Clark had caved in to her—and why he’d acted so guilty and made such a quick escape.
“I’ll carry the ladder,” he said firmly. “Then I’ll climb it for you.”
“That’s not really necessary,” she said with equal firmness. “The ladder isn’t heavy, and I’ve been climbing it since before I could walk.”
“But your equilibrium has changed.”
“I’ve adjusted.”
Rand didn’t argue. He’d learned over the years that arguing with a woman was fruitless. He simply walked outside with her and grabbed the ladder.
“I can get that,” she insisted, standing with her arms folded stubbornly. She stood right in his way, so that he couldn’t slide the ladder out of its rack without physically picking her up and moving her. With a shrug he stepped back and let her slide the ladder off the truck. She didn’t seem to be straining, so he let her carry it, though he was bewildered by her behavior.
His mother had been single through most of his childhood—her second husband hadn’t stuck around much longer than Rand’s own father. So Rand had helped raise his three half sisters and spent most of his formative years as the only male in the family.
But females were still an alien species to him. He’d tried to understand them, really he had. But usually when he engaged them in conversation, they either stared blankly at him or talked a mile a minute about something that made no sense to him.
Even his sisters fell into that category. There just didn’t seem to be a connection between the functioning of the female brain and his own.
He hovered as Susan set up the ladder. “You’re sure you don’t want me to—”
“I can do it,” she said with a confident smile. “I’m only going up two steps. It’s not like I’m scaling the Sears Tower.” And for no good reason, she smiled. That smile totally blew him away. It lit up her whole face, making him wonder what her hair would look like down, free from the no-nonsense ponytail.
Whoa. Rand put the skids on that line of thought. Susan Kilgore was attractive—he’d have to be dead not to notice. But she obviously belonged to another man, so there was no chance of any chemistry between them. Not that he’d want that. He had a book to write, and he wanted no distractions.
Those eyes could distract the Devil himself….
“I’m nearby if you need anything.” He moved closer to his desk, but his work held no interest when another, more alluring view tempted him.
She climbed the ladder sideways so her full stomach didn’t get in the way, and she seemed completely comfortable—no wobbling.
He wished she’d let him help. The idea of building something with this woman, working side by side with her, was oddly appealing.
That was bizarre, he thought as he flipped through a stack of Web pages he’d printed out and stacked them by subject matter. He’d spent a great deal of time with females and had certainly done his share of dating. He appreciated the female form—in all its variations, apparently, given his physical reaction to Susan. But he was always happiest if he could take a woman to a movie or concert where they didn’t have to talk. Even better if they could just cut to the chase and go to bed. Lately he hadn’t even bothered. His liaisons never lasted, and the awkward gropings in the dark that had once satisfied his libido now left him unfulfilled.
He realized he was a dinosaur. Men these days talked to their women. They engaged in deep, meaningful conversations about their relationship, and if they couldn’t, they went to therapy. Even Clark, who’d been the most macho member of the Georgia Tech football team a few years back, often spent hours at a time talking with Deirdre, his girlfriend. When Rand asked Clark what they talked about, Clark just shrugged and said, “Everything under the sun.” And he got a stupid smile on his face.
“Rand?”
He was at her side in an instant. “Is something wrong?”
“I just thought, since you want to help, you could hold the tape measure for me.”
“Oh. Sure.” Their fingers brushed as she handed him her industrial-sized metal tape measure. He kept a wary eye on her while she stretched the tape