Spring Flowers, Summer Love

She’d come so close to tragedy.

If Rowena Davis had died, he would have been guilty of causing a second death. And for what—a few dollars? He had plenty of those, more than he would ever spend.

So why had he been so cheap? Sure, he wanted to protect the uncles, but underneath there was another motive, one he hadn’t wanted to face.

The truth was he needed a barrier between them, a clear line of employer, employee. Why?

Because Rowena Davis was a woman, a very attractive woman whom he’d like to know better.

“Never again,” he vowed, an image of Cecile’s sad face filling his mind. This time he’d keep his mind on business and not let himself be swayed by feelings he misread. One mistake was more than enough.

Chapter Four

“What’s with you?” Rowena pushed her freshly shampooed hair off her face, glaring at Connor. “There’s no one to blame here. I told you before that several trees were unstable. Today one fell before we could get to it. That’s all.”

“If you’d gotten to it any later you might have been killed today,” he shot back, his face brimming with anger. “It pushed a pile of the mud onto the terrace. That’s what started the whole slide.”

“It doesn’t really matter now, does it?” She fixed him with a stare that had quelled lesser men. It didn’t have much effect on him.

“It matters.” Connor turned an accusatory glower on the two men, homed in on Kent. “How long is it going to take to get the rest of those damaged trees down?”

Rowena bit her tongue. She was going to do this job whether Connor Wingate liked it or not. But the way she did it, whether or not she could trust her workers to follow her orders, very much depended on Kent’s answer right now.

“You’re talking to the wrong person, man.” She could have kissed Kent. “Rowena’s the boss.”

Connor rocked back in his chair, turning his icy glare back on her. “So how long?”

Oh, she longed for those easy jobs in the city where once the client knew the plan, he left you alone to finish it.

“Look, Connor. This isn’t an exact science.” She cupped the mug of coffee he’d given her and told herself patience was a virtue. “We work as best we can. If we have to stop, adjust the schedule to accommodate a problem, then we do it. But we get the job done. You have to stop pushing so hard.”

“I have to push.” His face tightened; his hands clenched. “Maybe you should scrap the big fountain idea. That would shave off some time. I mean, you’ve been at this for almost three weeks and there’s hardly anything to show for it.”

Quint set his coffee cup down with a thunk, his face dark as a thundercloud about to dump on everyone. “If our clothes are dry, Dad and I should get back to work.”

“They’re not dry yet so sit down. Everybody just take a deep breath. And you.” Rowena turned her attention on Connor. “Listen to what I’m about to say, because I’m not going to repeat it. We are doing this job the way it is supposed to be done. Between the three of us, you’ve got a lot of experience sitting in this kitchen, and I’m telling you we’re making the fastest progress we can, given the circumstances. Maybe it doesn’t look like it to you, but you’ve never gone through this before. Am I right?”

He had the decency to look sheepish. “No.”

“I realize you’re used to being in control but this time you’re just going to have to find someone else to push around while we do our job.” Rowena held his gaze.

Tobias sent up a mournful round of howls that rent the tense silence.

“What now?” Connor muttered under his breath. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

He donned a coat and left. When he returned, he bore a big splotch of mud on one cheek and one knee looked soaked but the howling had stopped.

“He got tied up in a rope.”

“Which is why I asked you to keep him penned up. He could get hurt.”

“Don’t worry. He’s back in the pen. I pushed a big stone urn against the place where he’d dug it out.” Connor stood in the kitchen under the overhead fixture, his face solemn. The light cast a glow on his hair, illuminating tiny silver droplets that glinted like diamonds.

“As long as he’s out of the way. I like dogs. I don’t like seeing them hurt.” She gave him her severest glare.

“I’m sorry I questioned your professionalism,” Connor said softly. At least he sounded genuine. “I’m nervous about running this place for the uncles and not running into any hitches. I guess I took it out on you. I apologize. To all of you.”

“I think it’s the weather. It’s getting to all of us.” Kent swallowed the last of his coffee. The dryer buzzer broke the awkward silence. He rose. “Our clothes are dry and we’ve still got work to do. Might as well get back at it. Come on, Quint.”

“Do a quick assessment of the worst of them but don’t start any more cutting until I’m out there. Got it?” she emphasized when they didn’t respond.

“Got it.” Kent shared a look with his son, jerked his head toward Rowena. “She’s worse than your mother ever was.”

Quint burst into laughter, winking at Rowena. “I’ll make sure he bundles up and has a clean handkerchief, too. Okay?”

“Very funny. Get back to work,” Rowena ordered, hiding her smile. She watched them unload the dryer and return to the basement to change. Then she faced Connor, intent on getting this settled once and for all.

“You look mad. You’re going to bawl me out, aren’t you?” The corners of his eyes crinkled with his self-mocking smile.

“Yes, I am,” she assured him.

“Don’t bother. I know I shouldn’t have questioned your authority. I won’t do it again.”

“Uh-huh. Until tomorrow, anyway.” How could she stay angry with someone like him? “I’m not kidding about this, Connor. These men work for me. If I went to your staff without talking to you, you wouldn’t like it.”

“No, I wouldn’t. I’ve already apologized, Rowena.”

He’d called her by her first name. Wonder of wonders.

“Yes, you have.” That zap of awareness fluttered in her stomach. She ignored it.

“You want me to repeat it?”

“No.” She almost smiled at the thought of Connor Wingate apologizing twice for the same misstep—unthinkable!

“Then…”

Rowena settled back in her chair. “What is it about me that’s so hard for you to trust? Do I look like a crook or something?”

“Hardly. I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you you’re a beautiful woman.” He leaned his elbows on the counter, watching her.

Beautiful? With mud oozing from every pore of her grimy body? Yeah, right. Gorgeous.

“Now you’re being mean.”

“Mean?” Confusion darkened his eyes to bronze.

She was so not going to argue about her unbeautiful self.