Face Value (2 page)

“Oh yeah, sure.
Thanks, Lauren.” Amanda looked at the money. Reaching into her
drawer, she slid a business card across the table. “If you really
are desperate, you should call him.”

Lauren looked
at the business card. Tucker Brooks. Brooks Construction. His
office was just down the street. She wondered if she should pay him
a visit. She needed a new contractor yesterday, and if the man knew
the difference between a screw and a nail, she may just have to
hire him. “Thanks, Amanda. I’ll think about it.”

“If you see
Tucker, tell him we all say hi,” Ami said, laughing when Amanda
shot her a fierce scowl.

***

Tucker Brooks
was working on his third cup of sludge when the main door to his
office swung open. His assistant, Rosie, had stepped out to the
post office, so he called out, “Back here.”

He didn’t
bother tearing his eyes away from his computer screen, assuming it
was a courier with a package. “Just leave it on the front desk,
buddy. Unless you need me to sign for it?”

“Um, I don’t
have a delivery.”

Tucker looked
up. He jerked his hand away from the keyboard and swore when he
knocked his paper cup over, spilling coffee all over the plans
spread out on his desk.

Holy
hell.
He’d seen that girl at Jimmy’s dozens of times. She was
the owner’s daughter. He’d never approached her because he knew she
would never give him the time of day.

He reached for
a napkin. Fortunately, the cup had been almost empty, so the plans
weren’t completely destroyed. “What can I do for you?”

She watched him
blot the coffee before she made eye contact. With her expensive
suit, designer heels, and stylishly cut, platinum-blond hair, she
screamed cover-girl sexy while his calloused hands, steel-toed
boots, and ripped jeans bellowed blue collar.

“Um, you’re
Tucker?”

“Yeah.” He
crushed the napkin in his fist and tossed it into the wastebasket.
“You’re J.T. McCall’s daughter, right?”

Her perfectly
arched brows lifted. “How did you know that?”

“I’ve been
going to Jimmy’s since I was old enough to get served. I’ve seen
you around.”

“Oh.” She
clasped the chain hanging from her Gucci leather purse and cleared
her throat. “I understand you’re a contractor?” She looked around
at the stacks of books, plans, and materials littering every free
surface in the office, including the lone guest chair.

Tucker knew it
was a mess, but he knew where everything was, so he preferred to
think of it as organized chaos. “Why don’t you set those things
aside and have a seat?” She probably expected him to do it, but he
didn’t wait on anyone, not even gorgeous blondes.

He’d been
around the block enough times to know when someone looked down on
him, and she clearly thought she was way out of his league. He was
even more curious about her visit.

“Um, I know
your ex-wife,” she said, bending to move the stack of books off the
guest chair.

“That explains
it,” Tucker mumbled. He couldn’t tear his eyes away when the front
of her blouse gaped, giving him a sneak peek at the lace beneath
it.

She fixed him
with a scowl when she caught him looking. “As I was saying…” She
sat down and smoothed her black pencil skirt. “Amanda suggested I
come and see you.”

Tucker tipped
his swivel chair back as he chewed on the end of a pencil. “I’m
sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Lauren.”

His eyes
drifted to her left hand. Hot damn. No ring. “What’s your last
name, Lauren?”

“McCall.”

Perfect. Not
married. “Go on, you were telling me the reason you stopped by.” He
fixed her with an intense stare, barely suppressing a smile when
she shifted in her seat.

“I… uh… need a
contractor.”

Tucker grinned.
“Then you’ve come to the right place.”

Her mouth fell
open.

He frowned at
her look of surprise. “Is there a problem?”

“Um, no.” She
shook her head. “I’m sorry, my mind drifted for a minute there.
I’ve got a lot going on right now.”

He leaned
forward, clasping his hands on the desk.

Her eyes
traveled up his forearm, beneath the rolled up sleeves of his worn
denim shirt.

“What’s wrong?
You don’t like tattoos?” Not that he cared. If a woman didn’t like
ink, she could look for a man without any.

“Oh, no… I
mean, yes.” She shook her head again. “I mean, it doesn’t matter to
me whether you have tattoos.”

He chuckled as
he sat back in his chair again. She was cute when she squirmed. It
made him wonder what she’d look like writhing beneath him. “Good to
know.” He checked the time on his computer. “Look, I’d love to sit
around here all day, but I’ve got to get out to one of my sites and
check on my crew.”

“Right, I’ll
get to the point.” Her cell phone buzzed, and she withdrew it from
her purse. “I’m sorry, just give me a minute.” After checking her
screen, she let the call go to voice mail. “I’m working on a rehab.
The house is over a hundred years old. We’ve run into a lot of
problems. We’re already behind schedule and over budget-”

“Sounds like a
dream job,” he muttered. The last thing he needed was a half-baked
project with no budget and a tight timeline. He already had jobs
lined up for the next six months. He couldn’t squeeze hers in even
if he wanted to.

“It’s a lovely
house,” she said, sounding defensive. “And we’re getting so
close.”

She licked her
full lower lip on the last words, and Tucker felt his jeans get
tighter. He knew better than to let a pretty little thing get to
him by batting her eyelashes, but he did have a thing for damsels
in distress. He sighed. “Why don’t you give me the address? I’ll
stop by after work and check it out.”

“Thank you.”
She rewarded him with a smile that made his jeans downright
uncomfortable. She reached into her purse for a business card and
pulled a pencil out of the holder on his desk.

Tucker cursed
himself as he watched her scribble the address. Accepting the job
would be a bad idea for a dozen reasons, but none of them came to
mind when she looked at him as if no price would be too high for
that one favor.

He stood up at
the same time she did, taking the card she offered. “I should be by
around six, if that works for you?”

“Sure, that
would be great.” She slid her hand down the side of her skirt
before extending it. “It was nice meeting you. And thank you for
doing this.”

“I haven’t done
anything yet.” He looked at their joined hands and silently cursed
a blue streak when the heat from her touch seared his skin. “I
can’t promise I’ll even be able to take this job. We’re busy
and-”

She held her
hand up to silence him. “Just don’t say no.”

He couldn’t
imagine denying her anything. “Fine, I won’t say no… yet.”

Lauren went home to
change before meeting Tucker at the site. Construction materials
littered the stripped floors, so her four-inch heels didn’t make
the list of appropriate footwear. She felt more comfortable in snug
blue jeans, a black turtleneck, and flat black boots. She loved to
dress up in suits and designer shoes, but she was most relaxed in
jeans and boots. Her father teased that was the cowgirl in her.

She checked the
time again. Tucker was fifteen minutes late. Damn him. She’d been
damning that man ever since she met him. He had no right being that
good looking and a total parasite. A man should be one or the
other, not both.

When she heard
the crunch of gravel, she peeked out the window. A big black
pick-up truck parked at the end of the narrow driveway.
Oh
my.
He’d gone home to shower and change. He wore black cowboy
boots, snug black jeans, and a gray and black button-down shirt
with a screen print design stretching across his wide shoulders.
Delicious.
The girls at the spa were right. In spite of his
transgressions, that man was one sweet piece of eye candy.

His dark brown
hair was longish, hanging over the back of his collar, and he
seemed to favor the scruffy look if the whiskers shading his jaw
were any indication. But that roguish look only enhanced his rough
persona, making him even sexier, if such a thing was possible.
Lauren told herself it was a good thing he wasn’t her type
at
all.
She liked polished, sophisticated men who wore a suit and
tie to work. She questioned whether Tucker even owned a tie.

He tapped his
knuckles against the front door, and Lauren involuntarily sucked in
a breath as she went to answer it. What was that about? She
couldn’t be nervous. She’d met with dozens of contractors. Their
meeting was no different. Okay, so maybe most contractors looked
more like cover models for Redneck Weekly, but one good-looking man
shouldn’t throw her into a tailspin. She was just nervous about her
tight deadline. At least, that’s what she told herself… until she
opened the door, and all the air left her lungs when he grinned.
Mary, Mother of God.

“Sorry I’m a
bit late. I had to run home to shower and change.”

Lauren stepped
back, willing her racing heart to slow down so she didn’t pass out.
Smiling tightly, she knew she must look as though she was baring
her teeth. “You didn’t have to go home and change on my
account.”

He chuckled. “I
didn’t. I have a date.” He glanced at his watch. “In fact, I have
to pick her up across town in about forty-five minutes, so I don’t
have a lot of time.”

“Oh.” Talk
about fifty shades of red. Why would she assume he’d changed to
impress her? It wasn’t as though she had chosen her best-fitting
jeans hoping he would notice they did fantastic things to her
bottom. “Well, I won’t keep you then.”

“No worries.”
He stepped in and looked around at the mess. “Man, you’ve still got
a lot of work to do. What did you say your deadline was?”

“Five
weeks.”

He whistled
under his breath. “That’s not a lot of time for a project like
this.”

“I know.”
Lauren started wringing her hands when he faced her.

Tucker grinned
at the nervous action, prompting her to drop her hands and try to
act nonchalant. As if that was possible when his eyes raked over
her as if she was the whipped topping he couldn’t wait to lick off
his latte.

“Does… um… that
mean you don’t think it’s possible?”

He grinned
again. “Do I make you nervous, Lauren?”

“What? No!” She
hoped he couldn’t see her heart hammering through her thin
turtleneck.

His mega-watt
grin dimmed only slightly. “Whatever you say. Okay, why don’t you
show me the rest of the place?”

“Right, of
course.” She should have suggested that. He couldn’t give her an
estimate without looking at the whole house.
Duh
.

He took a
leather bound tablet out from under his arm and opened it, touching
the screen.

She hadn’t even
noticed the tablet. Perhaps because she was so fixated on the way
he filled out those jeans. Barely resisting the urge to fan her
face, she said, “Let’s start with the kitchen.”

“Lead the way.”
He gestured for her to walk ahead of him.

Lauren felt
those dark eyes boring into her backside, and of their own
volition, her hips swayed.
Might as well put on a show
, she
thought, smiling.
Give the man a taste of his own medicine.
He must be used to women falling at his feet. Making him fall would
be a nice change. Not that she was interested in reeling him
in.

“Raw.” That one
raspy word stopped her in her tracks. He stepped right into her,
his hand falling to her hip. “Whoa, careful now.”

Oh, sweet
Jesus.
Did he have to smell so good?
Just step away,
Lauren.
One foot in front of the other. You can do this,
girl.

Tucker
chuckled. “The kitchen looks raw. But are you… uh… gonna let me
step inside?”

“What? Oh,
yeah.” She stepped aside. She spotted a paper bag on the floor and
was tempted to pull it over her head to hide her flaming cheeks.
The idea was so ridiculous she had to laugh. What had gotten into
her? She was acting like a nervous virgin thrust into an arranged
marriage with an intimidating stranger.

She watched him
walk around the kitchen, tapping notes on his tablet, taking
measurements, knocking on wood, and frowning. “Is there a
problem?”

“Have you
ordered kitchen cabinets?”

“No, uh, my
last contractor, Phil, was going to make them for me. I really
don’t want to lose that period feel with a modern kitchen. I
realize it has to be functional, but I hate cookie cutter
houses.”

He looked at
her a long time. “I agree. I love old houses like this. Did you say
you were an investor?”

“Yes.”

“Huh, so you
buy and rehab old houses like this all the time?”

“Yes.” When
she’d graduated from college with a business degree and told her
parents what she wanted to do, most people were skeptical that a
girlie-girl like her would survive a year with big, burly
construction workers hounding her all day. But she’d held her own,
earned the respect of the people who worked for her, and built a
business she loved. It was stressful, but every day was a
challenge, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I do the same
thing. I know how tough the job can be.”

“You rehab old
houses too?”

“You sound
surprised.”

She shouldn’t
be. It was a natural fit for someone in his line of work, but
Amanda spoke as if he spent every spare minute playing pool or
chasing skirts. “I just didn’t realize. Do you have any projects in
the works right now?”

“Several.” He
smiled. “I’ve got a few of my own projects on the go, and I’ve got
crews all over the city working on everything from basement
renovations to additions.”