A Colorado Match. Deb Kastner
“Ta-da!” she announced, sweeping her hand to indicate the front desk area.
“Wow,” Vince said, giving a low whistle as his gaze swept across the newly cleaned and organized desk. Every scrap of paper was neatly stacked, the date books were perfectly arranged and opened on the counter and the whole room smelled like some kind of lemon-scented furniture polish.
He hadn’t realized how messy he’d let the outer office become until he saw how much of a difference Melanie had made with it. Had the guests seen the same thing? Was he truly that disorganized?
Melanie reached for a tin that held a dozen pencils and pulled them out for his inspection. “See? I even sharpened the pencils for you.”
“You really didn’t need to do that,” he said gruffly, shaking his head.
“Yes, I did,” she countered. “I know this project wasn’t your idea, and I know you don’t want me here. Frankly, that knowledge doesn’t exactly make me want to jump for joy at being here either. But if you think you’re going to somehow coerce me into quitting, think again. I’ve got a major promotion riding on this assignment, and I’m not about to lose it because the two of us can’t work together. You’d better get used to me being around because I’m here for the duration.”
“Are you sure?” he prodded.
She frowned and propped her hands on her hips. “You aren’t going to give me an inch, are you?”
He wasn’t. Or at least he thought he wasn’t.
He knew the moment he’d lost the battle, which was the second their gazes met. Her nose wrinkled, making the smattering of freckles dance on her cheeks. He couldn’t keep his gaze away from them.
“Well?” she demanded when he didn’t immediately answer her. She sounded a little put out. Probably because he really wasn’t paying attention to what she was saying.
Those freckles…
“Well?” he repeated, feeling as lame as he knew he sounded. “What?”
“I can put the office back the way it was—which, for the record, was completely messy and disorganized, in case you hadn’t noticed. Everything I’ve done can be undone except for the pencils.”
Her right eyebrow twitched upward. “That is, unless you want me to break all the leads off them, which, at the moment, I’d be happy to do.” The frown that followed her comment wasn’t, Vince thought, completely convincing. It was more mischievous than anything.
“You would, wouldn’t you?” From the look in her eye, he thought she might.
Then again, she might simply be teasing him. He wasn’t certain of anything anymore, especially where Melanie was concerned. What he knew about women could fit on the tip of one of those pencils she had sharpened.
Whatever else was to be said about Melanie Frazer, she was nothing if not interesting.
And determined.
And absolutely beautiful.
What could possibly go wrong?
On her second day officially on the job, she was up and about early. The front desk was vacant; but then again, Melanie thought, it wasn’t yet eight o’clock in the morning.
Vince might not even be at his desk yet, although she suspected he would be. Despite their short acquaintance, she’d made abundant notes on the man, particularly in light of her revealing encounter with him the day before. He struck her as a bit of a workaholic.
And he was definitely set in his ways. Like solid concrete.
She eyed the bell on the front counter, and then decided she would simply let herself into the back and check Vince’s office to see if he was there. He probably wouldn’t be expecting her so early, and for some strange reason it gave her a bit of a rush to think that she might actually catch him off guard.
“Knock, knock,” she called as she simultaneously rapped twice on the half-closed door to Vince’s office. “Hello? Anybody here?”
She pushed the door open and stuck her head inside the office. Vince was sitting behind his desk, facing her. His expression was harrowed as he stared determinedly at the mountain of receipts towering on his desk. An ink-marked ledger was spread in front of him, and the fingers of his right hand were splayed across the numbers of an ancient-looking adding machine, which was spewing out mounds of ticker tape with an old-fashioned clickety-clack.
He looked up as if in a daze, that same stubborn lock of silver-streaked brown hair tumbling forward and his glasses slightly askew on his nose. He would be an attractive man, she thought, if he wasn’t being so difficult about everything.
It would be nice if he smiled once in a while. But of course, the moment their eyes met, his brow knit in consternation. It didn’t take a genius to realize he didn’t like her. Or at least, he didn’t like what she stood for.
Change.
“There was no one at the desk, so I just let myself in. I hope that’s okay,” she explained in her best business tone. She wasn’t going to let his crotchety manner get her down. She wanted to get an early start.
“Already,” he groaned. It wasn’t a question. He sounded annoyed. So much for second chances.
Too bad for him.
He obviously didn’t like it, not even after having been able to sleep on it. He clearly wasn’t in a better mood this morning, and she wasn’t doing backflips herself, but she had a job to do and a promotion to acquire. Today she was determined to get started—really started—with her work.
Because the sooner she started, the sooner she’d be finished—and she could get away from Vince, this rustic lodge and these horribly uncomfortable hiking boots, which she was wearing due to Vince’s questionable advice.
Just let him try to stand in her way.
She was prepared for him. She already knew what the first item on her agenda would be.
Gesturing toward the mountain of receipts in front of him on the desk, she asked, “So what are you doing?”
Vince rubbed the tips of his fingers against his temples and tightened his gaze on her. She knew he was deciding how much information to give her—or even if he wanted to answer the question at all.
After a moment, he dropped his hands back onto the desk and sighed. “I’m preparing the P&L and balance sheet for last month. I’ll admit it’s not my favorite part of this job, but it has to be done.”
“You’re working by hand?”
“Well, I’m not adding the numbers in my head, if that’s what you mean,” he said, tapping his fingers on the adding machine.
Melanie’s eyebrow arched as she pointed over his right shoulder to a closed laptop computer sitting on the pinewood credenza behind him.
“Have you ever heard of a computer?” she asked, trying to keep the edge from her voice. He really was behind the times. She wondered if he knew how much.
He shrugged. “The way I’ve got it figured, by the time I input all these receipts into the computer, I may as well have done it by hand.”
“That’s backward thinking,” she informed him. “Let me set you up with some computer spreadsheets. You’d be surprised at how much time they save you.”
“Not interested,” he snapped, gathering stacks of receipts and stuffing them in a manila envelope marked and dated for the previous month with a red felt-tipped pen.
Melanie wouldn’t be swayed. “It looks like your filing system could do with an overhaul as well.”
“Do tell.” He deliberately turned his back on her as he stuffed the manila envelope into a beat-up metal filing cabinet.
“Look,