Worth The Risk. Charlene Sands

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СКАЧАТЬ drafts for Boot Barrage on the cleared restaurant table. They’d eaten chicken and rice and now sat beside each other sipping iced tea.

      Sammie took a big gulp of hers. “Wow, my mouth’s on fire.”

      “I thought you liked Cajun food.”

      Sammie gave him a sheepish look. “I’ve never tried it before. I’m not into spicy.”

      “Is that a fact,” Jackson remarked, not allowing his mind to go wicked. “Why’d you agree to it then?”

      She stared into his eyes. “I figured this is my year for firsts.”

      Her gaze darted to his mouth and lingered long enough to make his groin tighten. The sweet smell of peaches drifted to his nose again. “I mean … I don’t usually venture too far from my comfort zone,” she said.

      “You don’t?”

      “No. My tastes aren’t very adventurous.”

      “Maybe you should change that.”

      She shook her head and her short hair moved and then fell right back into place again. “There are enough changes in my life right now.”

      Jackson swallowed the last of his tea. “Are we still talking food here?”

      Sammie hesitated, then lifted tentative eyes his way. “Uh, just so you know, I’m not the kind of girl … who experiments with food … just because it’s available.”

      No. She wasn’t talking about food. “I knew that about you.”

      “Good, because I don’t think I’d try Cajun again … just for the record. Though, it’s pretty on the plate and all.”

      Jackson hid a smile. They’d already decided this in Las Vegas. They had agreed not to sleep together again, but apparently Sammie had more to say on the subject. “Okay, no more Cajun food for you.”

      She smiled with relief and Jackson pointed to the paper laid out on the table, returning to the business at hand. “Now, about your designs …”

      The next few days flew by. Sammie was busier than she’d been in her entire life. She’d made calls to her private boot venders and haggled over prices, set up a whole new Excel spreadsheet for taking inventory, ordered window dressings for the shop and interviewed for part-time help. At night she’d unpack her belongings at her apartment, do laundry and make herself a salad before collapsing into bed.

      She’d been in touch with Jackson every day. He didn’t disappoint on the business end of things. He wasn’t lying about helping her get the new enterprise off the ground. What they needed was a good start and Jackson knew some tricks of the trade. He’d stopped by her apartment once to check on her progress, and this morning he’d beaten her in getting to the shop. She saw his king-cab Ford truck as she pulled into the small parking lot behind Boot Barrage.

      She opened the back door and walked in on him as he measured a wall with a thick chrome tape measure. His back was to her and he didn’t bother turning around. “Mornin’,” he said over his shoulder. “The crew will be here in a few minutes. Thought I’d speak with the contractor before he gets started in here.”

      “Good morning,” she said quietly. She closed the door behind her and tried not to gape at Jackson. He wore a snug cotton T-shirt that hugged his shoulders and a pair of faded blue jeans tight enough for images to flash through her mind of how good he’d looked in the raw.

      He also had a leather tool belt wrapped around his waist.

      A tool belt.Really?

      Sammie held back a sigh. Every time she saw him, she fell a little more in lust with him. But that was only because he was beautiful. Eye candy. A hunk.

      “Okay, that’s great. I can’t wait until they get started on this place.”

      Jackson grunted in agreement and then went back to jotting down figures on a clipboard. He had arranged for a desk and chair from one of his offices to be delivered the other day. She’d set up her laptop on it and had worked here whenever she could.

      “You coming to Callie and Tagg’s for dinner tonight?” he asked, still concentrating on the figures he jotted down.

      Her dear friend Callie had been patient with her. She’d invited her over every night this week, but Sammie had been too busy. She’d promised her that tonight would be the night—she’d missed her friend and they were both anxious to spend time together—but Sammie hadn’t known that Jackson was invited, too.

      “Yes, I’m going.”

      “No sense in both of us driving out there in separate cars,” he said, studying another wall he was measuring. “I’ll drive you to Red Ridge.”

      “Oh, no. That’s not nec—”

      Jackson turned to her and a jolt of new desire paraded through her stomach. He was every woman’s fantasy, a blond-haired, blue-eyed tool-belt-wearing hunk of a man. Sammie had always prided herself on not being a shallow female until she’d met Jackson Worth. He was in a class all by himself as far as she was concerned. But she’d reminded herself a hundred times that business and pleasure didn’t mix. Especially not for her.

      Her creep of an ex-boyfriend, Allen Marksom, had driven that point home.

      “Oh,” she said, quickly realizing her mistake. “Callie asked you to drive me there.”

      “Carpooling saves the environment.”

      “Callie worries about me too much.”

      “She’s your friend.”

      “But still, if you were only going on my account, you don’t—”

      “Two things, Sammie,” he said in a serious tone. “I like spending time with my family. And I don’t argue with pregnant ladies.” He sent her a quick nod. “Just so you know.”

      She nodded back. “Got it.”

      When the crew showed up for work, she and Jackson went over the plans to make sure they were all on the same page. Excited, Sammie’s mental picture of Boot Barrage was finally coming to fruition.

      Her boot boutique would be unique, not only because of the exquisite boots she’d be selling, but also because she’d give them her personal touch and a guarantee of repair, restoration and quality. She’d been given a lifetime’s worth of instruction by a high-end designer as to how to properly maintain and treat the boots to give them the longest life.

      Each and every boot would come with the Gold Guarantee and that would be her selling point. Her own boots were testimony to personal care and longevity. She’d make sure her customers got the same level of quality.

      “Once we get started you won’t be able to come in here,” the head contractor, Justin Cervantes, said. “Safety reasons.”

      Jackson nodded. “We figured as much. Not a problem.”

      “How long before we’ll be able to get back in, exactly?” Sammie asked.

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