Heaven Can't Wait. Linda Turner
Whirling, she turned just in time to see the truck rumble over to the west wing, where men were already waiting to spread the cement as it was poured.
Stunned that someone would dare to countermand her order that there would be no more cement poured until the results from the core sample came back, she started to run. “Who ordered this cement? Stop right this minute! Do you hear me? I said—”
Indignation blinding her to everything but the cement truck that was preparing to pour, she didn’t even see the man who cut across the compound with long strides to intercept her until she all but slammed into him. Staggering back a step, her breath escaped in a gasp. “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t see—”
The words died on her tongue, whatever she was going to say next lost forever as her gaze locked with the most incredible blue eyes she’d ever seen. Her heart pounding crazily in her chest and the cement truck forgotten, Pru stood dumbstruck, as dazed and disoriented as if she’d been run over by a train.
He was tall, a good six inches taller than her own five foot ten, his body lean and hard and fat free in faded jeans, a navy T-shirt and work boots. The yellow hard hat he wore proclaimed him one of the crew, but even without that giveaway, she would have known he was a man who labored in the sun. His bronzed, weathered skin was stretched tight across his chiseled face, the crow’s feet that mapped the corners of his eyes and mouth a product of age and years spent working in the elements.
With a touch of gray in the midnight black hair that peaked out from underneath his hard hat, he could have been anywhere between thirty-five and fifty, Pru acknowledged dazedly. But by no stretch of the imagination could he be considered old. Rugged, too roughly cut to ever pass for a polished diamond, he was the kind of man who could make a woman pant.
She knew him.
Recognition came out of nowhere, grabbing her by the heart, stunning her speechless. Oh, she didn’t know his name and she would have bet she’d never seen him before—she would have remembered those eyes!—yet somehow she knew all she needed to know about him.
He was the one. The one she’d been waiting for. The one she’d moved from Kansas to San Antonio to find.
The absurdity of the thought nearly knocked her for a loop. The one? she echoed wildly. Good Lord, was she out of her mind? She hadn’t moved to Texas to find anyone. She’d just been standing out in the sun too long.
Abruptly coming to her senses, she took a jerky step back, twin flags of hot color flying high in her cheeks. “Ex-excuse me,” she said huskily. “I—I didn’t s-see you.”
She might not have noticed him, but Murdock had seen her the second she’d started running toward that damn cement truck with one hand flattened on her head to hold her hard hat in place. And he’d guessed immediately who she was. He hadn’t been expecting her, but he would have known that velvety rough voice of hers in the bowels of hell.
So this was the hard-assed Prudence Sullivan, he thought irritably, surprised to find himself nearly eye to eye with her. His brows snapping together in a dark, intimidating line, he glared at her and realized too late that if the lady was hard-assed, you couldn’t tell it from looking at her. Dammit, why hadn’t anyone told him? Warned him? Dressed in khakis, she was tall and willowy, with her long, wavy, mahogany hair, caught up in a ponytail under her hard-hat, flashing fire in the sun. How she still managed to look soft and feminine in that getup, he’d be damned if he knew.
His gaze slowly sliding over her cream-like complexion, his jaw flexed in reaction. She had the old-fashioned, porcelain features of a china doll and a sweet, vulnerable mouth that a man dreamed of—and ached for—in the dead of night. And if she was a day out of her twenties, he’d eat his shorts.
Too young, he thought, taking a mental step back. He’d be forty-five next July, and he only had to look at the lady to feel like a lecher. Dammit, what was the government thinking of, assigning a woman like her to a building site full of rough, crude construction workers? Didn’t those paper pushers know the hard hats would eat her up with a spoon if given half the chance?
Disgusted with himself for noticing anything about her, he said flatly, “You’re Prudence Sullivan.” It was a statement, not a question, one that only gave her a second to nod in surprise before he continued. “I’m Murdock.”
Pru’s jaw dropped. This was Murdock? This devastatingly handsome, well-put-together hunk was the same jerk who’d yelled at her on the phone yesterday? He couldn’t be. There had to be a mistake.
But a second, closer look at those incredible eyes that were lit with expectation, and she knew there was no mistake. This was Murdock, all right, and he was all set to tangle with her like he did every other inspector who crossed his path. More than willing to comply, her gaze shifted to the cement truck fifty yards away before swinging back to him. “Then I guess I don’t have to ask who ordered the cement, do I?”
“That’s right. I’m in charge around here, and the sooner you get that, the better. Nobody shuts me down, Inspector. Nobody.”
It was a taunt, pure and simple, his blue eyes so confident Pru wanted to slug him. Who did he think he was trying to intimidate? She wasn’t some piece of fluff who folded like a wimpy house of cards just because a builder dared to challenge her. And the sooner he got that, the better!
“Waste your money, then,” she said airily, a smile starting to flirt with her mouth. “Because if those core tests come back the way I think they will, you’re going to have to tear it all out. And if you don’t think I can make you do it, then you’re not as smart as I heard you are.”
They stood nose to nose, the electricity sparking between them so volatile, the air all but sizzled. Her heart slamming against her ribcage, Pru was suddenly struck by the wild, inexplicable need to touch him. Horrified, tantalized, fighting instincts she’d never had for a man in her life, she almost stepped back again. But he could only take that as a weakness and every instinct she possessed told her she was going to have to stand her ground when it came to dealing with this man.
Not budging so much as a muscle, she met his glowering gaze unflinchingly and forced a smile that didn’t come as easily as she would have liked. “Do we understand each other, Murdock?”
If she wanted a battle of wills, she had only to look into his grimly determined eyes to know that she had one. Nodding curtly, he said, “Precisely.”
Without another word, he stepped around her and walked away, leaving Pru staring after him. Her knees were shaking, her pulse jumping. Later she would be furious that she, who usually treated most men like they were her best buddies, let this one get her hot and bothered without half trying. But for now, all she could think of was that she should have touched him when she’d had the chance.
Two
The music was loud, driving rock, the patrons young and wild. Seated at a table with Laura, Pru stared unseeingly at the energetic dancers crammed onto the dance floor. At any other time she would have found herself a partner and been right out there with the rest of the crowd. But tonight all she could think of was a six foot four hunk of a man who was at least a generation older than the oldest dancer on the floor. He probably wouldn’t be caught dead there.
“All right, that’s it,” Laura said suddenly when Pru sent the sixth good-looking man away like a dog with his tail between his legs. Scandalized by her friend’s total disinterest in Grade A prime males, she set her margarita down with a snap and frowned. “You want to tell me what’s wrong or do I have to guess?”
Jerked back to her surroundings, Pru blinked in surprise. “What are you talking about? Nothing’s wrong.”
Laura only snorted at that, unimpressed. “Tell that to someone who doesn’t know you so well. Did you even look at that guy you just sent packing? He was gorgeous!”
Pru glanced blankly around, unable to even remember what the man looked like. “Was he? I didn’t notice.”
“I