Emeralds, Rubies, and Camouflage (2 page)

This clearly wasn’t
going to work at all.

Holt’s friend and now law partner Dane Braxton hadn’t been completely truthful when he’d described Myra Burke. In fact, Holt was seriously wondering if anything his friend had said had been true.

Dane sure as shit hadn’t mentioned how incredibly young she was. Her creamy
complexion had a sprinkling of freckles on her nose and cheekbones and her skin was completely unlined. If she was a day over twenty-two Holt would eat his nine-iron.

Dane also hadn’t mentioned Myra’s rich auburn hair, her soft whiskey-colored eyes, full pink lips, or the generous curves that were only highlighted in the sensible skirt and white blouse. When he’d walked downstairs to greet her
the first thing he’d glimpsed had been Myra’s shapely legs, and he’d almost missed a stair step when he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

No, this woman wouldn’t do. He kept to himself and he liked it that way. After he’d been caught in that suicide bombing in Kandahar he’d quickly realized life wasn’t ever going to be the same. Money bought him the best medical care on the planet but it couldn’t
stop others from flinching when they saw his scars.

One look at her and he’d been rolling down his shirt sleeves and pulling up his collar to cover the worst of them. It was only around strangers that he felt self-conscious.

Strangers and beautiful women. The kind of women who would have pursued Holt before because of his looks and reputation as a lover. Now when women chased him their eyes
were firmly on his bank account and not his body.

“I have a copy of my resume.” Myra was holding out a piece of paper and he took it from her, careful not to let their fingers touch. When he’d shaken her hand earlier he’d felt a bolt of awareness even as her alluring perfume had teased his nostrils. He’d never get anything done all day if he had to smell that in the office. If he gave her the
job he’d tell her that he was allergic to perfume. Not really the truth, but close enough.

Holt pretended to study the paper but the words were as jumbled as his brain. It was kind of pathetic that one little female could affect him like this. It didn’t have anything to do with her specifically, of course. It was simply that he’d been without a woman too long.

That was it. It was just a sex
drive thing. Nothing to do with Myra herself.

Another reason she couldn’t stay.

“So why don’t you tell me a little bit about your last job?”

He couldn’t cut the interview short. That would hurt her feelings and this whole thing wasn’t her fault. The least he could do was go through the motions.

Myra smiled and leaned forward in her chair. The position pulled her blouse tight over her generous
breasts and outlined her nipples against the thin fabric.

Son of a bitch. Concentrate.

“And I handled the schedules and basically ran all aspects of the office.” Myra sat back, an expectant look on her face. Clearly Holt had missed the lion’s share of her answer.

He picked up her resume again and held it in front of his face, not wanting her to see the heat that had invaded his cheeks. “Uh,
fine. So tell me what you’re looking for in a job. What’s important to you?”

“I’m looking for a job where I can make a difference. I like to be challenged.”

Although she’d said the words convincingly something in Holt’s gut wasn’t buying it. Most people wanted their work to make a difference and enjoying a challenge was fairly common as well, but somehow he doubted this was a deciding factor
in her job hunt.

Being his personal assistant wasn’t going to be the most exciting job on the planet. In fact, it promised to be rather dull and tedious at times.

Holt placed her resume on the desk between them. “Are you sure? I’ll ask the question one more time. What’s important to you?”

Her fingers were twisted together so tightly the knuckles were white. “I’m a single parent and I need to
find a job that pays enough for me to support my child while having some flexibility.”

So Dane had told him at least one thing that was true. Myra was a single parent looking for a job that wouldn’t keep her at the office sixty hours a week.

“That sounds fair. Where do you see yourself in five years? What kind of work do you hope to be doing?”

“I–I’d like to have my own business.” Her pointed
chin lifted in the air as if she was expecting him to laugh at her statement.

“What kind of business?”

“I have something in mind,” she replied, obviously not wanting to answer his question. “Something creative. I like making things with my hands.”

This was the strangest interview he’d ever been involved in, but then he wasn’t planning to hire her at the end of it so it really didn’t matter.
He asked her about the software she was familiar with and a few other minor questions about her resume before standing up to indicate the interview was complete.

“Thank you for coming in today, Miss Burke. I’ll be in touch by the end of the week. Let me see you out.”

The sooner Myra Burke left the sooner his blood pressure could go back to normal. The minute she drove away he was going to call
Dane and ask his friend what the hell he’d been thinking sending her here.

He kept his distance as they returned to the foyer and other than thanking him for his time, she was silent. When they reached the front door she stiffly offered her hand and a too-bright smile.

“Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Winslow. I know you’re a busy man.”

He took her hand in his, so tiny compared to his own, but
her grip was firm. “We’ll be in touch.”

She nodded and tucked her handbag under her arm and turned to walk to her car. He watched as she walked the entire way, his gaze taking in her curves and the shapely calves that peeked out from the bottom of the long skirt.

It was all for the best. Myra Burke would find another job and he’d hire the ugliest, most unpleasant personal assistant on the planet.

For his own self-preservation. He didn’t want a woman around day after day that made him think or worry about how he looked. He’d accepted that he had scars now. But that didn’t mean that everyone else had. He’d seen the looks of pity that would cross someone’s face when they looked at him and he never wanted to see that expression on the face of Myra Burke.

‡

“I
blew it,”
Myra confessed to Lily as they sat by the pool of Lily and Dane’s impressive home. Myra and her almost four year old daughter Amelia had been living in their guest room for almost two weeks. The money to rent their small condo in Clearwater had run out
and Myra had been grateful for Lily’s offer to move in and help with her two kids. “He was polite at the end but I could tell that I’m about to get the brush off. A very polite ‘thanks but no thanks’.”

Lily frowned and picked up another cookie from the plate on the table between them. “That doesn’t sound right. From what Dane told me Holt is really desperate for someone to take the job. He wants
them to start right away. Apparently his last PA ran off to the Keys to become the lead singer in a conch band.”

“That makes it worse,” Myra groaned. “Hiring me is worse than having no one at all. Ouch.”

“I’m sure that isn’t the case,” Lily argued. “I bet it went better than you think. Holt can be a little remote but he’s a nice man.”

“He wasn’t not nice. He just wasn’t…” Myra didn’t know how
to put her feelings into words. “He just didn’t seem all that happy that I was there. He frowned during the entire interview. Maybe he didn’t like my outfit. I should have worn a business suit or something. I was too casual.”

Lily shook her head and pushed the plate of cookies toward Myra. “Dane specifically said the job was casual most of the time, although there would be occasions you might
have to dress up a little bit.”

“Then maybe he didn’t like my hair, or my shoes, or my qualifications.” Myra eyed the platter of cookies and then pushed the plate back toward Lily. She had enough extra padding on her hips and thighs; she didn’t need to add to it by emotionally eating. “Maybe he hates redheads. Whatever it was I can assure you I’m not getting that job.”

“Then you’ll get another
one,” Lily assured her. “Dane has lots of friends and business connections. We’ll find the perfect job for you. Just give it time.”

“Time,” Myra repeated glumly. “The one thing I don’t have any of. I’m broke and living in your house. My parents think I’m a huge failure and my daughter constantly asks where her daddy is and when can she talk to him. I’m a terrible mother.”

“You’re a wonderful
mother and not a failure at all. I love having you here and the second pair of hands with Nicky and Emily is a godsend.”

“I’m intruding.”

“You’re not. You’re family. You always have a home with us.” The sympathetic expression on Lily’s face told Myra that the words were sincere. But it didn’t stem the tide of feelings that she’d screwed everything important up.

“I hope you mean that because
I’ve got nothing positive on the horizon.” Myra reached across the table and squeezed Lily’s hand. “I don’t know what I would have done without you. I would have had to move back in with my parents and that would have been a disaster. Thank you again.”

“Stop saying thank you. I’m thrilled that I’m in a position to help out. I’ve been there, you know.”

Lily had firsthand experience of what it
was like to be a single parent with no money or support from the father. Of course now she had Dane and the two children. Dane had adopted Nicky and treated him the same as his own biological daughter Emily. She’d lucked out and Myra would give anything to find a man as wonderful as Dane.

She wasn’t talking about the money, but the love that Dane showered on Lily.

“I’ve decided to look at today’s
interview as practice. Nothing is ever wasted.” Myra was going to have a positive outlook on things if it damn well killed her. She couldn’t let Amelia know everything that kept Myra up at night.

There didn’t look to be a good night’s sleep on the horizon.

*

Holt transferred the
phone to his other ear and stood from his seat behind the
desk to walk over to the window. It was another gorgeous day in sunny Florida but he barely noticed the weather, instead concentrating on getting his point across to one of his best friends.

“I can’t believe you sent her here, Dane. She’s way too young, for one thing. How old is she anyway?”

His friend chuckled on the other end of the line. “You’re not supposed to ask someone how old they are.
As an attorney you should know it’s illegal.”

“I’m not asking her, I’m asking you,” Holt retorted. “The last assistant I had was young and she ran off with a bongo player to live in Key West. I don’t need that to happen twice.”

“Shelly was in her mid-thirties, my friend. Not old, but certainly not a young party animal. Hell, didn’t she crochet for a hobby or something? I don’t think anyone could
have predicted her recent behavior.”

“Knitting.” Holt pulled a law book off the shelf and then pushed it back just to keep his hands busy. Otherwise he was going to take the phone and smack it against the smooth oak of the desk repeatedly.

“What? What about knitting?”

“Shelly knit, not crocheted,” Holt said crossly. Details were important to him and he always made sure to get them right. “The
point being Myra is not the right fit for this job.”

“That’s funny, because when I described her work background you thought she’d mesh well. Your resistance wouldn’t have anything to do with how attractive Myra is, would it? Because she is a very beautiful woman. Not that I’m interested. I’m a happily married man but it has been pointed out to me that she’s at least an eight, maybe a nine, by
some of my friends.”

An eight? Myra Burke was an eleven at the very least.

“I really didn’t notice how attractive she was.” Holt was lying through his teeth but he was desperate. “I just don’t think she and I could work together.”

“Listen, I didn’t want to tell you this before but I can see that I’m going to have to. I told you some of what Myra’s going through but not all. She’s having a tough
time and this job could make all the difference for her, Holt.”