was seriously pissing her off with his dogged refusal to see what was plain in front of his face.
“I’m sure this system worked peachy for the woman who conjured it out of her head but for us mere mortals, it’s a bit confusing. Even you can’t seem to figure it out.”
Dean’s face flushed a dull red and she knew she’d crossed the line. Damn it all to hell. But even as Annabelle prepared for the roar of indignation she was sure was heading her way, he seemed to choke down whatever had been dancing on his tongue and uttered a grunt of some sort that may have been an agreement.
But he didn’t look happy about it. “Well, she made it look easy. And all the files are numbered in this way. To start over would take an inordinate amount of time that I don’t have.”
At this Annabelle brightened. Finally something she could work with. “No problem. That’s what I’m here for. I’ll get this system turned around so that anyone coming in after me could easily figure it out, and you can concentrate on getting the jobs.”
He shifted uneasily, but there was a glimmer of interest in his brown eyes that Annabelle had to admit made her insides flip-flop oddly. “You think you could do that?”
She smiled. “Of course. I wouldn’t have made the offer if I couldn’t deliver. I’ve worked in an office before and I have an eye for efficiency. I guess you could call it my gift.”
He grunted, but she couldn’t tell if it was a noise that qualified as approval or disapproval and so she said, “You know, if we’re going to work together we need a better communication style.”
He blinked. “What do you mean?”
“I mean the grunting has to stop. I know guys have their own language, but for the purposes of ensuring that I don’t misunderstand you, let’s try for a mutually agreed-upon language. Like English.”
Dean scowled, but Annabelle wasn’t deterred or intimidated. She’d been around men more coarse and meaner than Dean Halvorsen could ever manage to be, and she wasn’t going to back down. Besides, her mom had always said, men needed to be reminded every now and again of the rules, otherwise they ran amuck. Much like dogs.
Although, now that she thought about it, her mom might not have been the best for advice about men—she never seemed to be able to hold on to one or find one worth keeping.
She sighed privately, pushing that particular thought as far away as she could manage, and returned her attention to Dean.
“So, what’s it going to be?”
He sighed with annoyance but answered quite clearly, “Fine. Can we get back to work?”
“Absolutely.” She graced him with a wide smile that wasn’t the least bit coy or suggestive but suddenly he seemed caught, and when he tore his gaze away from hers, she wondered whether she was imagining things or Dean might actually find her attractive.
Did she want that? Good God, no. But…a lonely voice protested softly, Dean was one of the good guys. She could feel it in her bones. Her intuition was usually spot-on—having had to dodge creeps and toads on a regular basis growing up—but she’d let her guard down and Thad had somehow gotten past her defenses. She thought of Honey and she couldn’t regret her choice in that regard, but she’d be a liar if she didn’t say that she wished she’d found a decent man to father her child.
But messing around with the boss was a giant no-no.
“I see you found a babysitter.”
Dean’s voice broke into her thoughts, a welcome distraction. She nodded. “Dana is watching her for me on the days that she isn’t working.”
“You and Dana grew up together, right?”
“Yeah,” she answered, moving away from Dean and grabbing a handful of files. She wasn’t in the mood to share her dismal upbringing. Besides, he probably already knew all the highlights. No sense in sharing the lowlights as well. “Well, I’d better get started redoing this system or else it’ll take all day.”
DEAN MOVED to one side of the office and tried to ignore the way Annabelle’s skirt swished around her legs as she went about her business, filing and lightly humming as she went. There was something earthy and comforting about her confidence, in spite of her wardrobe choices. It wasn’t her skirt that was the problem, he thought, averting his eyes, searching for anything that might be more appropriate than what kept drawing his gaze.
Autumn was in the air but it was still warm enough to cause beads of sweat to coat his brow if he stood in the direct sunlight, which was probably why she had chosen the strappy number clinging to her breasts like a second skin, molding to the firm, plump flesh as if it were painted on, but it was damn distracting and not exactly professional, he groused. Jamming his baseball cap on his head—intent on getting out of there to meet a client at the job site—it took a moment for him to realize that his groin was reacting in a most inappropriate manner, reminding him painfully that he was a man with needs he’d been ignoring for far too long. He’d been sure after Beth’s death that that part of him was pretty much down for the count, too. Apparently, that was not the case.
Shame at his bodily reaction caused him to inhale sharply, and guilt for thinking of another woman in a sexual manner made him feel that he was no better than Aaron Eagle.
Echoes of Brandon’s concerns floated into his panicked brain and he spun on his heel toward the door, only to slam his shin into the leg of a chair.
She turned at the sound to ask, “You okay?” Her eyebrows arched in concern, causing the tiniest wrinkles to mar her otherwise perfect face.
“Fine,” he answered, biting back the swear words he wanted to yell because his shin was throbbing in time with the blood rushing to his cheeks…and other places. He managed to say, “I’ll be back later,” and then slammed out the door.
ANNABELLE STARED after Dean as he walked—no, limped—stiffly from the office, and she shook her head. Men. Would she ever understand them?
Probably not. Annabelle shrugged her shoulders, and said, “I don’t think that man likes me.” Then she turned to the file cabinet and focused on finishing her filing.
CHAPTER FIVE
ANNABELLE didn’t mean it to, but a wistful sigh escaped her as she caught a private moment between Dana and Sammy in their kitchen.
Sammy, his eyes shining with love and desire, feasted on Dana as if she was a rack of lamb and he was a starving man.
Thad had never looked at her like that. Not truly.
Sure, she’d seen lust in men’s eyes, but it had never gone further than that, and young as Annabelle was, she’d always known the difference. She’d had no use for men with mouths full of pretty words aimed at only one thing.
But even as she was slightly envious of the fairy-tale romance Dana seemed to be enjoying, she couldn’t really remain that way. Dana deserved a good man. She’d had a rough childhood, too. That’s probably what bonded the two of them so tightly. She’d do anything for Dana, and vice versa.
She forced a smile and cleared her throat as she lifted their dirty plates. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. Just trying to help out.”
Sammy grinned and pinched Dana’s behind as she tried to move past him. She jumped a little and her cheeks colored, but there was a high flush to her features that made her simply glow. Annabelle’s eyes threatened to water. “You guys have to stop that. I think I’m still hormonal,” she teased, allowing Dana to take the plates from her hand. “Isn’t there some medical text that says a woman’s hormones can go haywire as far as a year and a half after the birth of a baby?”
Sammy eyed Dana as if he were mentally undressing her and said, “Dunno. But we’ll let you know once I manage to get this girl to squeeze a few out.”
“Samuel!” Dana exclaimed, whirling