*  *  *

  And here, for your reading pleasure, is our free romance excerpt:

Chapter One

A branch cracked, loud as a gunshot. Something big was near her car. Something menacing. Something heavy enough to snap a thick branch in two. Jaye Davis dropped the lug wrench and snatched her flashlight off the pavement, pointing the thin beam into the tangle of trees. A bear-like shape disappeared behind a gnarled oak.

Jaye’s heart collapsed to the size of a hummingbird, quivering in her chest. The only weapons within reach were her high heels, a sputtering flashlight, and a greasy car jack. She flicked a glance at the dark October sky. If there were any angels drumming their fingers on Heaven’s countertop, could they swoop down and help right now?

Dry leaves rustled and she aimed the light at a thorny shrub. The beam landed on a pair of round eyes and long ears.

A bunny.

Not quite an angel, but the little rabbit would keep her company while she dealt with a flat tire, a valley with no cell reception, a big something in the woods, a consulting job hundreds of miles from home, and a new client waiting for her to show up.

A disaster.

Help wasn’t on the way. No one seemed to live this far north in Pennsylvania. She was five miles from the tiny town of Shinglehouse, but she hadn’t spotted a shingle or a house anywhere in these wooded mountains. Just bunnies, bears, and the monsters in her mind.

The shadows behind the tree trunks shifted, stretching long fingers into the Allegheny National Forest. An engine’s menacing growl vibrated behind her, and she whirled toward the two-lane highway. Headlights approached, bright enough to hurt her eyes. Jaye shielded her gaze and took a step back. Her right heel pierced a layer of dry leaves and sank into soft earth.

A battered pickup materialized, parking in front of her car on the gravel shoulder. The engine rattled to a stop and the driver’s side door swung open.

A man stepped into the glare of her headlights. He was a little older than she, perhaps in his early thirties. His knit cap, red sweatshirt, and faded jeans were ordinary enough, but he had the broad shoulders and lean core of a linebacker. Something in the glint of his gaze looked smarter¾and kinder¾than any of the football players she’d known.

“Looks like you’ve got a flat.” His oven-warm voice bounced off the bare maple limbs overhanging the road. “Anyone coming to help?”

“Nope, but I’m not alone.” She jabbed a shaky finger toward the woods. “There’s a bunny nearby. Maybe a bear, too.”

One blond brow arched, disappearing under the ribbed cuff of his hat. “Neither one can change a tire.”

“Guess I’m in trouble.” She tucked her wobbling fingers into a fist. This man was six feet taller and at least one-hundred-and-eighty pounds heavier than the average bunny. For him, removing a lug nut would be as easy as twisting a cap off a water bottle.

A shiver zinged down her spine. Should she trust him? Even though her prayer for help had been answered, she would’ve preferred a smaller, less-intimidating guardian angel—one with translucent wings and fairy dust. Not one who could crush a beer can with a careless squeeze of his big hand.

Overpowering her would be just as simple.

Cold wind cut through her wool skirt, slapping against her skin like she wore nothing at all. Jaye felt vulnerable and exposed, which was ironic. She’d fled to this remote part of the Appalachian Mountains to avoid those emotions, not put herself at the mercy of an imposing stranger.

The man reached into his truck and came toward her. Light from her headlights backlit him, masking his expression. Something dangled from his hand. A gun?

Jaye’s heart squirted in front of her lungs and banged against her ribcage. She pointed her flashlight in his direction but the beam fizzled and died.

The stranger kept coming, like a monster from the woods.

She swung the worthless flashlight and hit him below the belt. The jarring impact made the light flicker to life.

Whatever the man held dropped to the pavement with a loud, metallic clatter. He grunted and bent over.

“Don’t take another step.” She backed away, aiming the watery beam at the grimace twisting his mouth.

“Why’d you hit me?”

Some distant part of her brain registered that this man’s voice fell an octave after being clobbered in the groin. “I thought you were going to…”

His head notched up. “Going to what?”

“I have no idea.”

A puzzled frown crinkled his brow. “Why didn’t you ask?”

She kept the light pointed like it was the business end of a gun. “Because sex maniacs and murderers don’t tell people they’re sex maniacs and murderers until it’s too late.”

His eyes widened.

Even in the dim light, she could tell his irises were a dark, slate blue. Not a hint of depravity filtered into his steadfast gaze.

One big hand opened, palm out. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. My fault. Not yours.” He braced both hands on his thighs and blew out a sigh that misted in the cold October air.

Jaye didn’t dare look at the fly of his jeans. “Are you…hurt?”

“Yeah. Being mistaken for a sex-crazed murderer stings like hell.” His gaze flicked to her car. “I’m gonna change your tire. Probably should’ve mentioned that before I came toward you.”

Accepting his help didn’t feel right after nailing him in the nuts. “If you could remove the flat, I’ll put on the spare.”

“No way. I’ll take care of everything.” He picked up an item beside his foot. “Your flashlight is about to die. Use mine.”

She gripped the metal tube and offered an apologetic smile. “I thought you were carrying a gun.”

“No wonder you slugged me.” He cleared his throat and met her gaze. “Defending yourself was the right thing to do. You had no idea if I was up to no good, and you bought time to run away.”

The unexpected praise sent a curl of warmth into her chest. Grateful he wasn’t holding a grudge, she pointed his flashlight’s bright beam toward her flat tire. Her gaze crept over her car’s hood to the trees crowding the road. “A few minutes ago, I heard something in the forest. What lives in these woods?”

The man knelt by her flat. “You probably heard a possum or a whistle pig.”

She jerked her gaze toward him. “What the heck is a whistle pig?”

“A groundhog.” He gripped the wrench with hands the size of dinner plates and loosened the remaining lug nut with an efficient yank.

“Whatever I saw was bigger than a groundhog. More like a bear.”

“Doesn’t matter. He’ll fall to his knees if you hit him with your flashlight.” He looked over his shoulder at her. “Aim for the same spot you got me.”

She burst out laughing and covered her mouth. “Sorry about that.”

“Forget it.” He gave her an all-is-forgiven grin.

Her angel-trapped-in-two-hundred-pounds-of-muscle was a handsome man. Handsome enough to distract her from any bear shuffling through the woods. Yogi Bear. Smokey Bear. A grizzly bear. Didn’t matter. She couldn’t look away from the man kneeling a few feet away. “Thank you for stopping to help. I was beginning to think no one lived out here.”

“Plenty of people out here, but everyone is watching the game. I would be, too, but I have to meet some guy my father hired.” With a few industrious pumps of the jack, he raised the front end of her car. “Every year, he brings in some outsider to screw up our business.”

Foreboding skittered down her bare neck, sticking cold fingers under the collar of her blazer. “An outsider?”

“Yeah. A consultant who doesn’t know the first thing about our glassblowing factory.” He carried her flat to the open trunk. “Now I’ve got to come up with a good reason to fire some jerk I’ve never met.”

Her insides kinked. A few minutes ago, she hit him in the nuts and called him a murderous sex maniac. Now, he had very good reason to fire her. “You must be Mitch Blake.” She angled the flashlight at her chest. The bright light beamed off the ruffled white blouse peeking from the lapels of her blazer. “Your father hired me.”

Mitch’s gaze dropped to her skirt. “I’m supposed to meet someone named Jayson Davis.”

“I’m Jayson, but I’d rather you call me Jaye. Sorry about the confusion. If it’s any consolation, this isn’t the first time someone didn’t expect me. My father was convinced I’d be a boy. He liked the name Jayson too much to change it.” The confession eroded her confidence. Would Mitch be another man she’d never please?

The muscles along his jaw tightened, hard as the cold pavement. “Does my father know you’re a woman?”

“I have no idea. We made arrangements via email. He never asked.” Mitchell Blake was acting like a sexist oaf who thought women didn’t belong in a factory. Jaye gripped the flashlight, tempted to whack him in the nuts again. “Your father said he’d provide a place for me to live during our four-week contract. Could you point me to the hotel?”

“You’re not staying at a hotel.” Mitch’s terse words bounced off the road. “You’re living with me.”
Chapter Two

The loud clack of Jaye’s high heels against the kitchen floor punctuated the fact she didn’t belong in Mitchell Blake’s house. Determined to find an alternative, she swiped her thumb across the screen of her cell phone to activate her browser. “I’ll get a room at a hotel.”

“Don’t bother. Every place around here is booked.” Mitch shut the back door with a firm push. “There are no vacancies.”

“I don’t understand.” Jaye lowered her phone. “There’s nothing but woods up here. Have squirrels reserved every hotel room?”

“Not unless they’re hunting deer. This time of year, we’re swamped with hunters.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Let me get this straight. My father found you on the Internet, contacted you about doing some work for the factory, and hired you sight unseen?”

Apparently, their friendly banter about whistle pigs hadn’t eased Mitch’s reluctance to hire an outsider. So much for the warm welcome she’d hoped for. Now she didn’t feel guilty about clocking him in the nuts. “Your father didn’t hire me sight unseen. He saw my portfolio. Nick knows what he’s getting.”

Mitch’s shoulders shifted, angling toward her. “Are you a glass blower?”

“No. I specialize in virtual marketing. I’ll hone your factory’s brand, set up a presence on the web, and build a virtual store to sell your hand-blown drinking glasses.” She resisted the urge to tell him she majored in programming and marketing in college. Graduating summa cum laude hadn’t compelled her own father to hire her, so why would her accomplishments impress Mitch?

“An online store won’t work. People need to hold our products to see the clarity and quality of our glass.” He braced one arm against the back of a kitchen chair and shook his head. “Rather than pour our resources into virtual marketing, we need to offer new products to increase revenue.”

“Blake Glassware is a perfect candidate for an online store.” Jaye had to convince Mitch Blake to give her a chance. She was tired of being a faceless drone stuck in a cubicle, writing code. If she could help real people, she wouldn’t feel so invisible. “I’ve seen remarkable upticks in sales when companies branch into the virtual marketplace. With the right photography, your glassware will capture buyers on a global level.”

Mitch let out a dry laugh. “We have to hire a photographer, too?”

“No. I’ll take photographs for the website.”

“Two for the price of one.” He blew out a sigh. “How much is this project costing?’

“Nick hired me to work for one month. He asked me to keep the terms confidential, but you’re welcome to ask him for the details.”

“I intend to.” His hand tightened on the oak chair, his knuckles turned white against his wind-burned skin. “Tell me, when did you sign this contract?”

“Two weeks ago.” The hair along Jaye’s arms stood, poking the insides of her sleeves. “Didn’t your father tell you?”

“An hour ago. If I hadn’t run into him at my brother’s football game, he might’ve neglected to mention your arrival at all.”

No wonder Mitch didn’t welcome her with open arms—he had no idea she would show up. Their ridiculous predicament made a spurt of laughter bubble out of her fatigue. “We’re not off to a good start, are we?”

His hard stare could have been fused from glass. “My father will think this is downright hilarious.”

At least someone around here had a sense of humor. Jaye tilted her head. “Why did you want to fire me? You had no idea what I was hired to do.”

“Doesn’t matter what you were hired to do. I don’t like consultants.”

She took one look at the snarl curling his upper lip and felt a knot form in her chest. “Why not?”

His gaze blazed an imaginary hole into the refrigerator door. “You don’t need to know.”

This just keeps getting better and better. Jaye searched for Nick Blake’s contact information on her phone. Drat, she only had his office number. “Could you give me Nick’s cell? I’ll ask him to find a different place for me to stay.”

“No, I’ll call him. This is our fault. I’ll make things right.” Mitch tossed his knit hat onto the kitchen table. Ultra-short blond hair covered his head, the buzz cut similar to what an implacable drill sergeant might sport. Reaching behind his neck, he pulled the red sweatshirt over his head and tossed the fleece over a chair. Blake Glassware’s square lettering spanned the back of his red t-shirt.

Jaye’s jaw went slack. A whole sentence could fit between his broad shoulders. Living within touching distance of that impressive back would tempt her to do things she shouldn’t do, like flirt with a burly glassblower . Her stomach performed a ticklish somersault, her body’s way of saying “Yay, I want that!”

He lifted a phone out of his pocket. “We’ve got two women who work at the factory, but they have big families and full houses. I doubt they could give you a room.”

“I don’t want to inconvenience anyone.” Her gaze jumped to the clock hanging above an old black stove. The second hand wavered above the faded three before continuing the slow journey around the face. Nine-thirty. She’d been up since five in the morning. What she wouldn’t give to collapse onto a soft bed.

If she were a guy, she could crash in Mitch’s extra bedroom. Then again, everything would be simpler if she’d been born the son her parents so desperately wanted.

Darting away from that dangerous topic, she looked around the kitchen. The scuffed oak cabinets were outdated but the white counters were clean. Now that she’d found one of the shingled houses in Shinglehouse, she didn’t want to leave. Her overbearing father and philandering ex-boyfriend would never find her tucked away in Mitchell Blake’s brick ranch.

“My father isn’t answering.” Mitch lowered the phone to the table. “I’ll try again in five minutes.”

“Do most short-term employees stay with you?”

“Yeah. I’m the only one who has the room.”

“Ah, you’re the default host.”

“Mm.” He nudged his phone away from the table’s edge.

Not once did his gaze drop to her mouth, breasts, or hips in male speculation. Despite their rocky start, Mitch treated her with unwavering respect. Jaye knew, with surprising certainty, she would be safe here. The only thing stopping her from staying was the same thing always complicating her life—whether or not a man wanted her around. “I lived in a coed dorm in college.” She clasped her hands behind her back in an attempt to look casual. “Living with you wouldn’t be any different.”

His gaze jerked to hers. “What did you say?”

“You were willing to let an unfamiliar guy stay for a month.” She opened her hands and shrugged. “Why not me?”

****

Mitch looked at the remarkable creature standing in his kitchen and wondered if he’d heard right. She wanted to stay?

Her chocolate brown gaze brushed down his chest, darted to his abdomen, and skidded to a stop on his belt buckle. A crimson stain crept into the pretty hollows of her cheeks.

Mitch couldn’t remember the last time a woman blushed around him. His voice blasted like gunfire out of his throat. “You can’t stay.”

“Why not?”

Her wide eyes looked as big as the hole in his heart. He gripped the back of a chair, knocked off balance by the undeniable surge of attraction clenching his insides. “I was willing to room with a guy. Not you.”

“Because I’m a woman?”

“Right. This is the last place you should be.” Lord, the luscious curve of her bottom lip would test a monk’s virtue.

Jaye crossed her arms and studied him like she was deciding which of his weaknesses to pick apart first.

Mitch felt like he was watching a bunny getting ready to bite a grizzly bear. He pressed the heel of a hand against his forehead to fight off a headache. She belonged in a swanky metropolitan hotel—not a half-renovated bachelor pad full of mismatched furniture. Cripes, her shoes probably cost more than his ancient kitchen table.

A slender finger tapped her delicate chin. “I don’t see any reason why I can’t stay.”

Mitch snorted. This woman had no idea how much she turned him on. With a Herculean effort, he managed not to drool at her magnificent legs. “Trust me. You’re better off someplace else.”

“But I like it here. Don’t worry, I’ll stay out of your way. On weekends, you’ll have the place to yourself because I’ll be visiting family in Syracuse.” Two eyebrows rose beneath side-swept bangs. “You won’t even know I’m here.”

“Impossible. I’ve been living by myself for years. I’ll know you’re here.” He couldn’t miss her. She was his type of woman—slender and athletic with a killer smile. Worse, her short chestnut hair did nothing to hide her pretty face and framed the most incredible pair of brown eyes he’d ever seen. Every time he met her gaze, Mitch’s brain dove to his groin. If her personality matched her good looks, he’d be in serious trouble. Better to put her miles away, not a few feet down his hallway. “I’ll find you another place to live.”

She covered her mouth, hiding a yawn. “Could I stay here tonight? It’s a little too late to nose around for an empty bed.” Her hands lowered, bumping against her thighs with a soft thump. “I know this is a huge imposition, but I’ve been in my car all day and I’m beat.”

He would’ve held his ground if she screamed and yelled, but her simple honesty got to him. Shifting his gaze, he glanced out the kitchen window at the smooth silver hood of her coupe. The expensive model looked as out of place as a Ferrari parked beside a tent. “You’ve got Virginia plates on your car,” he observed. “Did you drive up from there?”

“Yes, from Richmond.”

“That’s a ten-hour drive.”

She nodded and clasped her hands in front of her.

The woman standing in the middle of his kitchen looked like a little lost pixie. Any sane person would say she couldn’t hurt a bear like him, but Mitch knew better. Jaye Davis wasn’t like any other woman he’d encountered in months. Heck, make that years.

The instant he spotted her stranded on the side of the road, he knew she was special. Unlike most of the city girls he’d met, this one had the gumption to change her flat tire. She would’ve succeeded if she’d been strong enough to loosen the last two lugs.

Even though she had little reason to find anything funny about being stranded, she’d laughed when he joked about fighting off bears with her flashlight. He was lost the moment her laughter spilled into the cold, dead air.

For a magic moment, he thought she might hug him in gratitude—not for changing the tire, but for making her smile. The memory socked him in the gut. He’d do anything to make her smile again. “You can stay tonight. The extra bedroom is at the far end of the house.”

Her lips broadened into a grin. “Thank you. I’ll just bring in a couple of things from the car that shouldn’t stay out in the cold.”

“Fine.” Mitch hit redial on his phone. This time, his father picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, son. Tell Jayson to meet me in the office tomorrow at nine.”

“Yeah, sure.” Seeking privacy, Mitch left the kitchen. He entered his bedroom and eased the door shut. “We’ve got a problem, Dad. Jayson is a woman.”

“That’s weird. He sounded like a man in his email.”

“Her email, you mean. She goes by Jaye, not Jayson.” Mitch stopped at his window, squinting at the horizon. The bumpy spine of the Appalachian mountains blocked the lower portion of the starry sky, just the way Mitch liked. The more he could close off this valley, the better. “I was willing to let a guy live in my spare bedroom. Not her.”

His father chuckled. “How cute is she?”

Mitch’s gut tightened, but he refused to admit Jaye knocked the air out of him every time he looked at her. “I just want to be alone.”

“Right. Everyone knows not to set foot in your house.”

Mitch gritted his teeth. “Does your wife know anyone who needs a roommate?”

“All of Elise’s friends are married with kids. None of them have extra bedrooms.” Irritation bled into Nick’s voice. “One of the single girls in town might share a room with Jaye, but you’ll have to strike up a conversation in order to find out.”

Mitch’s headache sharpened. He’d gotten so used to avoiding women, the prospect of calling one sounded as appealing as oral surgery.

He slumped onto the edge of his bed and thought about how quiet his life was an hour ago. “Send Jaye home. We don’t need an online store. We need to expand our product lines.”

“Hold on. Elise wants to tell me something.” Low murmurs produced a chuckle. “Elise wants to get pregnant. She’s ovulating, so I’d better get to work.”

The line went dead.

Mitch tossed the phone onto the mattress and held his head in his hands. Hearing his father talk about sex always made him wince, but the sting felt particularly deep tonight. Rather than come up with a solution for Mitch’s problem, Dad cut off the conversation to screw around with his wife. No big surprise. Every time Mitch talked about the factory, his father found an excuse not to listen.

Hiring Jaye to sell their stemware meant Blake Glassware wasn’t changing. Mitch felt like he’d been punched in the gut. He and his men were capable of making so much more than goblets and wine glasses.

He didn’t know what was worse—this powerlessness at work, or the knowledge his empty home was being invaded by a doe-eyed stranger whose sole purpose was to make his job more tedious.

Rubbing a hand across the thick prickle of hair on his head, Mitch muttered a curse. Every consultant who walked into the factory wreaked havoc—screwing up the inventory, offering useless advice about productivity, butchering the shipping department. The worst misdeed of all occurred when one consultant convinced Mitch’s mother to walk away, leaving the family and the business in tatters.

What destruction would Jaye Davis leave in her wake?

The sound of her heels striking the linoleum floor made Mitch’s stomach shrink to a hard, tight knot. Somehow, he’d have to stop her from destroying everything he’d fixed over the past ten years. Swallowing a groan, he walked to the kitchen.

She stood near the beat-up table with a suitcase at her feet, a computer briefcase in one hand, and a camera bag slung over her shoulder. With her short dark hair mussed by the wind and the tip of her nose a bright pink, she didn’t look like someone about to condemn him to long days of drudgery. Instead, she looked like someone who’d breathe life into his hollow existence.

Happiness was the last thing he wanted.

With an abrupt swing of his arm, he pointed toward the living room. “Go through here and take the hallway to the other end of the house. The extra bedroom is the first door on your left. Clean sheets are in the closet.”

“Okay. Thank you.” She extended the handle on her wheeled suitcase and walked past.

Unable to resist any longer, he let his gaze caress the firm shape of her calf muscles. His mouth watered. Damn, he never should’ve looked. He strode to the back door, twisting the lock with a flick of his hand. “I go to work at five in the morning. I’ll come back at eight-thirty to bring you to the factory. You shouldn’t drive in these mountains until you replace your spare with a standard tire.”

She paused where the linoleum ended and carpet began. “Oh, I hadn’t thought of that. Thanks.” Lifting two fingers in an awkward wave, she hitched her camera case higher on her shoulder. “Have a good night.”

The faint squeak of the wheeled suitcase faded away.

Mitch grabbed a leftover hoagie from the fridge, turned off the lights, and returned to the questionable sanctuary of his dark, lonely bedroom.

For the first time since he moved into his house, he allowed a beautiful stranger inside. For the hundredth time in his adult life, he wondered what the heck his father had gotten him into now.
 

Chapter Three

Could a steering wheel crack under the force of someone’s grip? Jaye would find out in the next five seconds. If Mitch clenched his hands any tighter, he’d shatter the pickup truck’s steering wheel.

She tucked a short tendril of hair behind her ear. “Have you thought of a way to fire me yet?”

The tendons along his forearm twitched. “I’ll fire you if you tell me to streamline my workforce, or whatever you experts call it these days.”

Ouch. He wasn’t in a good mood. Jaye settled the briefcase in her lap and folded her hands on top of the smooth brown leather. “Why would I suggest reducing your personnel?”

“Because every consultant has the same idiotic idea when they walk into my factory.” Hunching his shoulders, he glared at the road. “I’m not firing any of my employees.”

His bullish mood matched his bullish constitution, evidenced by the fact he wasn’t wearing a coat despite the cold October air. No goose bumps marred the burly arms protruding from his red T-shirt, whereas Jaye couldn’t stop shivering under her blazer.

Perhaps pestering a glassblower would get her blood pounding. If she poked hard enough, she might get past Mitch’s hard shell. That being said, she rather liked his shell. The light of day fell upon his concrete jaw, leaving no doubt he could sustain any punch thrown his way. He’d shaved off his blond whiskers, revealing the smooth planes of his cheeks. He was an intriguing combination of blunt angles and brawn. If she measured the circumference of his biceps and chest, she had no doubt Mitch would be twice her size. How would a big guy like him react to a little ribbing?

She tapped her briefcase. “Do you warn every consultant to keep away from your employees?”

“Yep.”

“Since we’re on the topic, how many employees do you have?”

“Doesn’t matter.” He stopped at an intersection, keeping his gaze on the road. “I won’t fire a single one.”

“Even if they’re lazy? Ill-tempered? Prone to drop glassware?”

“My men don’t have those problems.” He stepped on the gas.

Gravel pinged against the pickup’s underside. They crested a hill, accelerating toward a sprawling meadow tinted gold by the sunrise. An attractive two-story brick building stood in the middle of the property. A row of shiny glass windows belted the exterior walls. A contemporary metal sign hung above the modern entry.

Blake Glassware.

He turned into the parking lot, zoomed into a space, and slammed on the brakes.

Jaye’s briefcase hit the dashboard with a loud thump. Anger leapt into her throat. “You refuse to fire your employees, yet you were ready to fire me before we met. Seems a bit hypocritical.”

“There’s a difference between you and my employees. I hired most of the people working at Blake Glassware.” Mitch cut the engine with a twist of his wrist. “I had no say in hiring you.”

“How many consultants have visited?”

“We’ve had efficiency consultants, marketing consultants, storage consultants—you name it. I never agree with anything they have to say. They cause mayhem and cost a helluva lot of money.” He pulled the brim of his baseball cap farther down his forehead and yanked the keys out of the ignition. “A productivity consultant stopped by a few months ago, but he didn’t stay long. Apparently, I made him uncomfortable.”

“Go figure.” Jaye got out of the truck, smoothed her navy skirt, and fell into step beside Mitch. “This is the last chance to clarify your expectations before I step into your factory.”

“I expect you to stay out of my way.” He opened the etched door for her. “I don’t take business advice from anyone who doesn’t know a thing about glassblowing.”

“Fantastic.” She walked into the lobby and stopped near an inviting grouping of upholstered chairs. The large room looked like an exclusive art gallery. Colorful abstract paintings hung on the brick walls. Gleaming ductwork crisscrossed the vaulted ceiling in a perfect display of industrial chic. Well-lit shelving displayed various styles of stemware. The glass sparkled like it was dipped in diamonds. Very impressive.

The only thing marring the ambiance was a low-pitched roar. Jaye crinkled her nose at Mitch. “Do you have a fire-breathing dragon hidden in your factory?”

He glanced at the door toward the back of the lobby and rubbed the back of his neck. “We keep the dragon in the studio. He eats consultants for breakfast. I can’t introduce you, yet.” He jabbed a thumb toward a carpeted hallway. “My father wants to meet you first.”

“Does your father feed the dragon?”

“No.” He bracketed his hands on lean hips. “Taking care of the dragon is my job.”

Jaye gave a respectful nod. “I’ll remember that.”

Beneath the dark brim of his hat, blue eyes searched hers. “If you do, you’ll be the first consultant who paid attention to anything I said.”

“Count on it.” She headed toward the corridor. Mitch’s work boots thudded behind her, and she imagined his gaze drilling between her shoulder blades. The center of her back burned. Stopping at a door adorned with Nick Blake’s name, she raised her hand to knock.

“Hold on. I’ve got this.” Mitch reached around her.

His arm brushed hers and the brief contact ignited a ribbon of goose bumps under her blouse. She stepped back, landed on his foot, and stumbled.

“Whoa.” He gripped her waist, steadying her.

Heat burst into her face. “Did I hurt your foot?”

“No. You okay?”

“Yes, but sometimes I can be a bit klutzy.” She looked over her shoulder and met his gaze. “I’m so sorry.”

The door swung open, revealing a less bulky version of Mitch, with dark hair and a ready smile. “You must be Jaye. I’m Nick Blake.”

“Uh, yes. Hello.” She shook his hand, aware of Mitch’s touch drifting off her waist.

“I’m sorry about the confusion over your living arrangements.” Nick waved her into his office. “When I asked Mitch to put you up, I never thought to ask if you were a woman. Rest assured, there’s no confusion about where you’ll work. Your office is right across the hall.” The corners of Nick’s eyes crinkled. “I can’t wait to see your design for our website. As soon as we’re online, our company will reach customers all over the world.”

Mitch approached his father. “Before we conquer the Internet, I’d like a word with you.”

The sober pronouncement doused Nick’s smile like a wet blanket thrown over a cheerful campfire. “I can’t talk now. I’ve got to get the boys to their dental appointment.”

Mitch pointed to a red folder in Nick’s inbox. “Have you read my report yet? There are a number of things to consider before we develop a virtual marketing plan.”

Nick didn’t meet his son’s gaze. “I’ve considered everything.”

“Right.” Mitch took off his hat and pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead.

With a jolt, Jaye realized his gruffness might’ve been spurred by the anticipation of this confrontation with his father.

Nick sought Jaye’s gaze. “I’ll take you out to lunch. We’ll talk then.”

“Sure.” She placed her briefcase on the floor, directly in the path of Nick’s escape route. “Can Mitch join us? I’d like to hear his perspective, too. He’s your partner, after all.”

Her request had an interesting effect. Nick’s mouth hung open and Mitch’s gaze jerked to her. She smoothed her expression, calm as the sphinx in a raging dust storm.

Nick scowled at his son. “Are you on target to reach quota for this month?”

Mitch set the baseball cap back on his head. “Not yet.”

“Then we’ll catch you another day when the studio can afford to miss you.” Nick slid his arms into the sleeves of his coat. “Sorry, Jaye. We’ve got to manufacture enough pieces to meet our orders, and Mitch needs to be in the studio to reach those goals.”

Something was going on between these two men that had nothing to do with quotas. Jaye cleared her throat. “I doubt Blake Glassware will fall to pieces if Mitch takes an hour off for lunch.”

Mitch folded his substantial arms over his chest and glared at the unread report in his father’s inbox. “Count me out. I’d rather work over lunch.”

“See you at noon, Jaye.” Nick walked out of the office without acknowledging his son.

The snub was a bad sign. The rift between father and son was wide. She shot a curious gaze at Mitch. “Would you give me a tour of the factory? Along the way, you can tell me what direction you’d like Blake Glassware to take in the next few years.”

He rolled his eyes. “Discussing the future would be a waste of time.”

The toneless indifference in his voice disturbed her. “I don’t understand why you think laying the groundwork for your business’s future is a waste. Does your father own the controlling interest in the factory?”

“No. We have equal shares.”

“Then you have just as much say in the future of this company as he does.” Not waiting for him to contradict her, she strode across the hall to her new office. Even though the room was small, the old metal desk had plenty of space for her laptop, along with a roomy drawer to stow her camera case.

Mitch appeared in her doorway and shook his head. “Two days ago, this was the broom closet.”

“This is luxurious compared to what I normally get. At least, I have a view of the meadow through the window.” Her cell phone chimed. “Sorry, I should check this message. I’ve been waiting to hear from my real estate agent.” She felt guilty for interrupting the conversation to respond to a text, but Mitch didn’t seem to mind. Sliding the sleek cell phone out of her jacket pocket, she glanced at the screen.

Your condo is officially on the market. I put the 4 sale sign up this morning. Don’t worry, I won’t tell your Dad or your ex what you’re up to, just like you asked.

Her father wouldn’t be pleased when he found out she’d detoured off the carefully mapped road to her future and severed ties with her boyfriend. With any luck, she’d buy enough time in this quiet valley to heal before her father demanded answers.

Her quest for peace wouldn’t be easy if she had to deal with a big glassblower with a chip on his brawny shoulder. Would a dose of humor jar him out of his bad mood?

“Introduce me to some of your employees.” She rubbed her palms together in her best imitation of a consultant ready to wreak havoc. “I need to figure out whom to fire.”

Blue eyes contracted into two menacing slits.

She took an exaggerated breath and grinned. “I love leaving a trail of destruction in my wake. Makes me feel giddy. Consultants enjoy making heads roll, you know. The rush is addictive.”

“Aw, hell.” Mitch left her office and stomped away.

She caught up with him in the hallway, giving him a blatant once-over. “I’ve never met a glassblower before. I expected you to be more avant-garde, since you’re an artist and all.”

“I’m not an artist.”

“Doesn’t feel good to be lumped into a group, right?” She linked her hands behind her back and walked beside him. “I wish you wouldn’t assume I’m like every other consultant you’ve encountered.”

The length of his stride shortened. He nudged up the brim of his cap, revealing the bunched muscles along his forehead. “Are you always so sharp in the morning?”

“Yes. Are you?”

“Not until I have caffeine.” He resumed walking at his normal speed. “Do yourself a favor and avoid talking to me until I’ve had coffee. That’ll make life more pleasant while you’re living under my roof.”

Again, her stomach did that strange somersault. Did he want her to stay? “I promised to move into a hotel later today.”

“Right. Good luck with that.” He grinned.

Jaye’s steps faltered at the handsome sight. She’d fall flat on her face if he ever gave her a full smile. Leery of what other surprises this man had in store, she followed him into a large office flanked by a wall of inboxes.

“How long have you been consulting?” he asked, flipping through several pieces of mail.

“Five years.” After putting in so much time, she’d finally merited a job offer from her father. Once she finished working for Blake Glassware, she’d become her father’s right-hand man, so to speak. She wondered when she’d start feeling excited about stepping into the role of Davis Software’s heir.

Mitch tossed a catalog into a garbage can. “You’ve been jumping from job to job for five years?”

“Many of my assignments have been long term. I was in Richmond for almost a year.”

“I see.”

The note of censure in his voice indicated he thought her itinerant lifestyle little better than a clown wandering the country in a traveling circus.

A woman waddled into the office, maneuvering so her pregnant belly wouldn’t bump into the filing cabinet. “You must be our new consultant. Don’t worry, I’m not about to give birth to an elephant. I’m Sarah, the administrator for Blake Glassware.”

“I’m Jayson Davis, but please call me Jaye.”

Sarah pursed her lips. “My gosh, you look familiar. Have we met before?”

Jaye’s optimism wavered. Her family lived three hours north of here. Had their photo appeared in the local papers? If so, her anonymity was in jeopardy. During the next four weeks, she wanted the freedom to be herself—whoever that was. “A lot of people say I remind them of someone. I must have a twin running around. I hope she’s nice.”

“This will drive me crazy. I’ll figure out why I recognize you.” Sarah looked at Mitch, who watched their interaction with a mild scowl. “Don’t move, mister. Girl with a big stomach coming your way.”

The scowl tilted into a grin. “What did I do now?”

“You fixed things, as usual.” She navigated around a desk and wrapped her arms around Mitch’s sturdy shoulders, patting him on the back. “My son threw two perfect passes at the football game. He felt so much better after you took him out for a catch last week. I don’t know what you two talked about, but it worked.” She stepped back, holding him at arm’s length. “I love you for helping him, you know?”

A dull flush crept up Mitch’s thick neck. “I just showed him a few ways to evade a tackle, that’s all.”

“You gave my kid more coaching than he’s gotten during the past month.” Sarah squeezed his arm. “You should have seen him last night. He played great.”

“I was there, watching my brothers.” He poked her in the shoulder. “You said hi to me at halftime.”

“Oh, right. I swear, pregnancy makes me stupid.” Sarah laughed, her chin-length blonde curls bouncing. She turned toward Jaye. “Don’t hesitate to ask me anything, but I can’t guarantee I’ll remember the answer until after this baby is born.”

“No problem.” Sarah’s open display of affection for Mitch disconcerted Jaye. Nobody at Davis Software hugged her father. Heck, Jaye couldn’t remember the last time she’d embraced her father. When she was eight, maybe? Heat prickled across her chest, a warning that her thoughts had ventured into uncomfortable territory. She unbuttoned her blazer, nudging apart the lapels to get some air.

Mitch’s gaze landed on the open collar of her white blouse. The dull flush on his neck turned a deep red.

A middle-aged brunette entered the room and tossed Jaye a smile. “Hello. I’m Veronica.”

“Watch out,” Sarah warned with a wink. “Veronica does our accounts receivable. She’s really good at taking other people’s money.”

Veronica scrutinized Jaye’s navy skirt and tweed blazer. “We get together at my house on Tuesday nights to play poker. Want to join us tomorrow?”

“Sure. I like playing cards.”

“Great. We accept IOUs if you run out of cash.” Veronica grinned, showing a row of slightly crooked teeth. “I want to win enough to buy a new desk lamp.”

“You’ll have one month to collect the money,” Mitch advised. “Jaye is leaving at the end of November.”

“Oh, darn.”

“I’m surprised you expected her to be here for much longer.” He tossed more junk mail into the trash. “Consultants never stay in one place for long.”

Jaye’s spine stiffened. “A contract extension could keep me around.”

“I’ve yet to meet any specialist who inspired me to extend their contract,” he countered, jamming a letter into the back pocket of his jeans.

Sarah and Veronica traded a look.

“Extending a contract is definitely your prerogative,” Jaye agreed, forcing a saccharin smile. “Especially if you need help developing an online marketing plan.”

He snorted. “I don’t need that kind of help.”

“Given your aversion to technology, I’m stunned to see electric lighting in your factory.” Jaye met his piercing gaze with a cheerful shrug. “Shall we continue the tour?”

“Might as well.” Shoving the rest of his mail back into his mailbox, he strode out of the office.

Jaye turned toward Sarah. “Does he always growl?”

“Not when he’s happy. Then again, he hasn’t been happy for years.”

Veronica drummed her fingertips on a desk. “Perhaps a consultant can turn things around.”

“You’d have better luck with a magician.” Jaye hurried after Mitch, who was striding down the corridor.

“The hallway to the right leads to shipping.” He gestured toward a small room. “We keep the copier and office supplies in here. My glassblowers eat their lunch in the conference room to escape the heat from the furnace. Don’t plan on using that room in the middle of the day.”

“I’m a little confused.” She flicked her gaze around the immediate area. “Where is Accounts Payable? Marketing? Sales?”

“My father does those jobs.” Mitch walked past her.

She lunged, grabbing his forearm. His skin was very warm, evidence his internal furnace ran ten degrees hotter than most. Heat traveled through her palm, up her arm, and zipped toward the tips of her breasts. Jaye snatched back her hand.

Mitch frowned at the part of his arm where she’d touched him.

Through the safe fringe of her bangs, Jaye looked at him. “Did a consultant recommend paring down your staff even though you have only four people staffing your offices?”

“No. He believed reducing the number of glassblowers would increase our profit margin.”

“Oh.” She leaned back, letting her shoulders thud against the wall. “No wonder you don’t like consultants.”

“I can always count on them to screw up my life.” Mitch tilted the brim of his cap. A devilish smirk chased the tension off his face. “Come with me. I need to feed the dragon. Months have passed since the last consultant arrived.”

“Was he the one who recommended you fire some glassblowers?”

“The very one.”

“Then I have nothing to worry about. I’d never suggest firing glassblowers in the pursuit of profit.” An impish smile curled her lips. “I’d get rid of whoever runs the studio.”

****

Mitch deserved that wisecrack, considering how rough he’d been on Jaye all morning. Anxious to return to his natural habitat, he opened the studio’s heavy door. A rush of heat and sound flooded the lobby.

A furnace the size of a large dragon stood in the center of the studio. The fire in its belly glowed a bright orange. Contrary to what Mitch told Jaye, the furnace lived on a steady diet of silica, lime, ash, and barium.

Jaye walked into the expansive room and stood a respectful distance from the steel beast. “This must be where you make the molten glass.”

“This is the heart of the factory,” he acknowledged, feeling a surge of satisfaction at what he and his family had built. “Ingredients are heated to two thousand four hundred degrees to make glass.”

She pointed to the smaller furnaces flanking the large one. “Those aren’t as hot. You use them to keep the glass malleable, right?”

“You’ve done some homework.” Damn. Pretty and smart—a deadly combination. He needed to wake up to stay a step ahead. To his relief, he spotted a steaming pot of coffee on the nearby counter. He filled a mug with the black sludge. “Want some?”

Jaye shook her head. “Where is the lehr?”

He pointed to a large oven near the back of the room. “We use the lehr to cool finished pieces slowly so they don’t shatter.” Mitch swallowed a mouthful of coffee. The bitter brew cleared the cobwebs out of his brain. “Glass can explode if it’s not treated right.”

“How often do pieces shatter?”

“Around here, not much. If someone gets cut, we have an EMT who works in our shipping department. He can patch us up, but I usually take my guys to the hospital for stitches. A sharp piece of glass can cut deep.”

Jaye’s gaze flowed up his left arm and down the right.

Looking for cuts, no doubt. A tendril of pride crept up his spine. “I’ve never needed stitches.”

“Oh. Right.” She looked away. The hollows of her cheeks pinkened.

Another blush. He could get used to this. The painful tension gripping his shoulders dripped away. Swallowing another mouthful of coffee, he watched the orange light from the fire play across her pretty face. He was so distracted by the sight, he didn’t realize she was asking him a question until he saw the frown beneath her chestnut bangs. He raised his voice over the furnace’s roar. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

She took a hesitant step forward, tilting her pink lips toward his ear. “Glassblowers work in pairs, right? Who is your partner?”

“Freddie.” Having her this close made his gut feel like he’d just swallowed a lit firework. He pointed across the room to his friend, who gave a cheerful salute in return.

For several moments, she watched the glassblowers. “Your customers would love to see you at work. May I take pictures in the studio?”

“No. Distractions need to be kept to a minimum while my men work with dangerous materials.” She was a dangerous distraction, but he didn’t voice the thought. “I don’t want to temporarily blind my guys with a camera’s flash while they’re working.”

“I can shoot without a flash.”

“The answer is still no. The only people I want close to the hot glass are my men.” He waited, curious to see how far she’d push to get what she wanted. If she acted like any other consultant, she’d go to his father to get her way.

“Okay. No pictures.” With a shrug, she opened her hands. “Let’s talk about where you’d like to see Blake Glassware in the next five years.”

“We’re known for our stemware, but I want to produce more than glasses. Crafting items like pitchers, vases, and bowls will appeal to our current customers and attract new ones. I spelled out my thoughts in the report I wrote for my father.”

“May I read your report? I’d like to keep your vision in mind when I have lunch with Nick.”

“I can email you a copy.”

“Great. Use this address.” She handed him a business card listing her name, cell number, and email address. “Thanks for letting me crash at your house last night. Today, I’ll find another place to stay.”

He tucked her card into the back pocket of his jeans. “I hate to be a killjoy, Miss Davis, but you won’t find one.”

Her lips pressed together. “There’s got to be something available.”

“We’re wedged between the Allegheny National Forest and the Appalachian Mountains. Around here, there’s more wildlife than people. Shinglehouse is too small to have a hotel. The only accommodations you’ll find are in Coudersport or Olean, and they’re booked for hunting season.” He scanned her white blouse, classy skirt, and shiny black heels. “A city girl like you may have a ton of street savvy, but that won’t help you find a vacancy in these back woods.”

“Wanna bet?”

A slow, sexy smile appeared on her extraordinary mouth. The lit firework in his belly exploded, embedding shards of carnal excitement into every vital organ. “Hell, yeah. Name your terms.”

“If I find a hotel room, you have to stop calling me a consultant.”

“And what do I get when you don’t find a hotel room?” He smirked. “Besides a roommate for the month.”

Jaye’s winsome eyes narrowed. “If I lose the bet, I’ll cook dinner tonight.”

“For just one night?” He shook his head. Fully caffeinated, his mind came up with a brilliant alternative. “Providing one meal isn’t much of a sacrifice, considering you’ll be living in my house for the next four weeks. Fix me a few meals, at least.”

“Fine. I’ll cook dinner three nights a week, but I’ll take off Tuesdays to play poker with Sarah and Veronica. I won’t be around on weekends, so I can’t cook then. Fair enough?”

“Deal.” He extended his hand.

Her slender palm slid into his with a firm grasp.

The soft feel of her skin beneath his fingers sent a jolt of satisfaction deep into his bones. “By the way, I’d like beef tonight.”

Shaking her head, she laughed. “I can’t wait to watch you eat your words.”

If eating his words meant she’d stay in his house, he’d wolf down every syllable.