Aaron Under Construction. Marin Thomas

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      She flickered her false lashes one too many times. The fake lash on her right eye popped loose at the outer corner and lifted toward her brow, giving the right side of her face a permanently startled expression. “Scholarship?” She handed him the paycheck, then stood and cleared her throat. “Listen.” Pressing her fingers to her stomach, she inhaled deeply. “Romeo, oh Romeo, where are you?”

      After several seconds of silence, he realized that was all the Shakespeare Louisa had memorized.

      Hands perched on her ample hips, she demanded, “What? No good?”

      “You were great. But I believe the line goes—’O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou, Romeo?’”

      The bell above the door clanged, abruptly cutting off his and Louisa’s laughter. Jennifer stopped mid-stride when she spotted him and flashed a brilliant smile that lit up her whole face. Warmth filled him at the knowledge that he’d been the one responsible for her high spirits.

      After the door whacked her backside, she edged farther into the office. When she noticed Louisa behind the desk, her smile dimmed as her gaze shifted between him and the secretary. Interesting.

      Ignoring Louisa’s whispered “Ah, the lucky chica,” he devoured Jennifer with his eyes. After five nights of tossing in his sleep because her face, the sound of her husky laughter, even the scent of her herbal shampoo haunted his dreams, he decided he’d never tire of watching her.

      Today she wore her raven-colored hair loose. The silky strands brushed her shoulders and gleamed under the fluorescent ceiling lights. Khaki shorts showed off her toned legs, and the bright watermelon-colored T-shirt set her skin aglow. Made him itch to run his finger down her thigh to feel if her skin was as soft as it appeared. “How’ve you been, Jennifer?”

      Her smile regained its brilliance. “Fine. As a matter of fact, wonderful.”

      “Why you so happy?” Louisa asked.

      “Barrio Amigo found a sponsor for Mrs. Benitos’s house.”

      Louisa’s false lash inched higher on her lid. “This is good, no?”

      The sparkle in Jennifer’s eyes made Aaron fiercely glad he’d discovered a way to fund the project. This past Saturday when he’d left the worksite he’d decided not to phone his grandfather. Instead, he’d contacted his vice president, Steve. They’d batted ideas back and forth and come up with the McKade Import-Export community development program. His staff had wholeheartedly approved of the plan and the accounting department had all but cheered at the tax deduction. The details still had to be ironed out, but the groundwork had been laid.

      Excited about his idea, Aaron had been tempted to share the news with his brothers and grandfather, but had stopped short of informing them. They’d only have tried to dissuade him or put their own stamp on his project.

      “A local business, McKade Import-Export, has some sort of community fund that channels money out to worthy organizations. Whoever told them about Barrio Amigo is a saint in my book,” Jennifer explained.

      Saint? Aaron could hear his brothers’ laughter in his head.

      “I’d like to put some sort of dedication plaque on the house honoring this McKade company. And one of their managers should attend the ribbon-cutting ceremony when we turn the keys over to Mrs. Benitos. Louisa, will you take care of that?”

      “Sí. I ask for the boss man at the company.”

      Aaron’s ambitious plan began to feel like a noose around his neck. He trusted his staff with keeping his identity a secret, but it was only a matter of time before someone mentioned his name. “Back to business as usual, then?” he asked Jennifer.

      “Tomorrow. Because of the company’s generous contribution, we were able to offer the men a raise in pay to make up for missed work last week.”

      Somewhere from behind him he heard a door shut. Louisa, bless her thespian heart, had left the room. Ask, Jennifer. Ask me back.

      “I’m short one man.” She stared at the tip of her sandal. “That is, if you still need a job.”

      Need…yeah, he was full of need. The idea that she hoped he’d stay on her crew when she could afford to hire a real construction worker convinced Aaron that she felt something for him…that she wished to explore this…whatever happening between them.

      “I’d like to see the house finished.” And I’d like to see where you and I are headed.

      Her gaze slid past his. “Great.”

      “Want help getting things ready for tomorrow?”

      “The tools and some of the supplies have to be picked up from the warehouse.”

      “I’ll follow you in my truck.”

      “Thanks.” Her eyes softened and her lips parted.

      And Aaron wondered if she wore the same expression when she made love. “How about lunch? My treat.”

      Her mouth curved at the corners. “A celebration lunch sounds great.”

      He held the door open and breathed deeply when she walked by. His memory hadn’t disappointed. Her fresh scent smelled the same as in his dreams.

      “What are you hungry for?” She stopped next to her truck.

      A gust of wind blew her hair across her face and he shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans to keep from brushing the strands sticking to her lip gloss. “I’ll eat anything but Mexican.”

      Her eyes rounded.

      Unable to resist, he tapped his finger against the tip of hernose. “Hey, I’m kidding.” Sort of. Aaron preferred seafood and steak. He seldom ate ethnic foods. Maybe it was time to broaden his food horizons.

      She wrinkled her dainty nose. “Follow me.”

      I’ll follow you anywhere, babe.

      “THIS WAY,” Jennifer instructed after she and Aaron had parked their trucks on the street. Rosa’s Café sat tucked away in the back of an alley near Santa Angelita’s business district. “Beware. This place isn’t known for its ambience or imported beer. And forget Tex-Mex entrées. Rosa serves authentic Mexican dishes.”

      “I’m not sure I understand the difference between Tex-Mex and authentic Mexican,” Aaron confessed.

      “Rosa and her husband, Jesús, prepare the food themselves and use only boiled, shredded meat and white cheeses such as asadero in the dishes.” Good food aside, Jennifer had chosen the café because of its familiarity. Rosa’s grounded her. Reminded her of where she came from and where she belonged—the barrio. The place also reminded her of where Aaron hailed from—somewhere outside the barrio.

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