Make-Believe Beau. Keli Gwyn

past, she couldn’t aspire to either, no matter how much the idea of being loved and loving someone in return appealed to her. “Because I have neither a husband nor children, I’m forced to provide for myself, just as you are. I have an affinity for arithmetic and have found a profession that utilizes my skills. I happen to enjoy it, too.”

      Mr. Corbin scowled. “You’re not one of those suffragettes, are you?”

      She chose her words carefully. “I don’t stand in protest lines, no, but I am sympathetic to the plight of women. Perhaps one day our voices will be heard. In the meantime, I’m content to do my job to the best of my ability.”

      “Good. It sounds like you know your place.”

      Jessie bit back a sharp retort. Traditionally minded men such as Mr. Corbin couldn’t be won over with mere words. She needed to show him what she could do. “I’m ready to move on to the next stage of the interview, sir.”

      Mr. Corbin shook his head. If Jessie wasn’t mistaken, he was smiling, although with that enormous handlebar mustache hiding his upper lip, she couldn’t be sure. “You’re certainly eager, young lady. I’ll grant you that. Flynt can take you out and get you started on a drawing. He’ll oversee your work, but the final decision is mine.”

      Jessie accompanied Flynt to the rectangular drafting room. Four identical drafting tables faced a bank of large windows on the west side of the room. Four heads turned toward her, curiosity evident in each face.

      Flynt introduced her to his team, once again the professional engineer. “Gentlemen, this is Miss Jessica Sinclair. She’s going to complete a drawing for me.”

      She smiled and nodded a greeting at each of the young men in turn. She received two answering smiles and two frowns.

      A sandy-haired fellow at the drafting table farthest from her jumped off his stool and approached. “Welcome, Miss Sinclair. It’s not every day we welcome a fine lady like you into the Den.”

      “The Den? Is that what you call your drawing office?”

      “Yup. The mine over yonder is called Coon Hollow.” The draftsman, a fence post of a fellow who looked all of nineteen, inclined his head toward the windowless eastern wall. “Since raccoons spend a good part of their year holed up in dens like we do in our office, we fellows dubbed this the Den.”

      “Well, I’m honored to be in your Den and am pleased to meet you, Mr....?”

      “My name’s Rufus Rawlings, but everyone calls me Trace on account of I do nothing but tracings most of the time. Every now and then Flynt lets me draw something on my own, though.”

      As the lone woman in a man’s world, she’d learned long ago to cultivate all the friendships she could. “I spent a year doing the same. Tracings are an essential contribution to any engineering firm. Without them, valuable information could be lost if an original were to get damaged.”

      Trace turned to his colleagues with a mile-wide smile on his face. “Did you hear that, fellows? My tracings are ‘essential contributions.’”

      The dour draftsman at the table beside Trace’s grumbled. “Just what we need. Trace all puffed up.”

      “That’s enough, Arnold.” Flynt returned his attention to Trace. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, but those tracings won’t get done if you’re standing here talking.”

      “Right, sir. I’ll get to work on my— What were they called again? Oh, yes. My ‘essential contributions.’” He grinned at Jessie and returned to his board.

      “Come, Jessie.” Flynt held out a hand toward a magnificent drafting table at the front of the room, set apart from the others. “I’ll get you started.”

      She followed, speaking in a low voice. “Trace is certainly enthusiastic, isn’t he?”

      “I could give the lad more interesting assignments if he weren’t so slow and meticulous, but he lacks the confidence that comes with experience.” Flynt paused and pulled a sheet of paper from one of the drafting cabinets running down the center of the room.

      “And yet you’ve kept him on?”

      “I’m all for giving a man an opportunity to prove himself. Or a woman.” He sent her a sidelong glance—and a warm smile that transformed him from simply good-looking to delightfully handsome.

      No. She mustn’t allow herself to notice such things. Her success depended on keeping a level head and doing exceptional work. In order to be accepted, she had to perform better and faster than the men in the office. At the same time, she couldn’t say or do anything that could be perceived as a threat to them and their positions. She often felt like she was teetering on a tightrope high above the earth, with her male colleagues below her hoping she would come crashing down.

      But Flynt was different. She’d sung for hundreds of men at the High Stakes, and yet none of them had shown her the kindness or consideration he had. If she were looking for a romantic relationship, he was the type of man she’d be drawn to.

      Not that she could consider such a thing. A bright, successful engineer would want a proper woman, not someone who’d spent two years in a saloon entertaining a roomful of rowdy men. Even though she’d been modestly dressed and had never spent time alone with a single High Stakes customer, she bore the stain of her past. She’d seen how the women at her church back East had flocked together, their feathers ruffled, when the minister’s wife had invited her to attend services.

      But the Lord had accepted her and provided a way for her to leave that life behind. And here she was, a respectable woman with a rewarding profession.

      Provided no one learned her shameful secret.

       Chapter Two

      In no time, Flynt had a sheet of drafting paper adhered to his board. In order for Jessie to convince Corby she was the right person for the job, she would need to handle a challenging assignment. He had one in mind.

      “Before you begin, I want to give you an overview of the project.” He gestured with one hand. “After you.”

      She covered the distance quickly and faced the back wall, studying the twenty-foot-long drawing of the canal stretched across its surface and looking...enraptured. That was the only word he could think of to describe the wide-eyed wonder on her lovely face. She turned toward him, her eyes alight. “This is magnificent! The Weber Creek Ditch I worked on was just six miles long, but if I read things correctly, the El Dorado Canal is going to be over thirty, with a good four miles of wooden flumes.”

      “That’s right.”

      Her forehead furrowed. “Why are you smiling?”

      Was he? He schooled his features. “You really do enjoy the work, don’t you?”

      “Very much.” She straightened to her full height, bringing the top of her head level with his shoulder. With her standing so close, he could imagine taking her in his arms, gazing into her sparkling green eyes and lowering his face until his lips brushed—

      What was he doing harboring such thoughts? He had no intention of courting anyone, especially a potential colleague. Women couldn’t be trusted. His mother, a successful madam who’d abandoned him at the age of seven, and Ma Hagerty, who’d taken him in and promptly broken her promise to treat him like her own son, had taught him that.

      Jessie assumed a businesslike tone. “If I’m to overcome Mr. Corbin’s objections, I should get to work on that drawing. What do you have in mind?”

      While he admired Miss Jessica Sinclair, professional draftswoman, with her forthright manner, he’d enjoyed a glimpse of the gleeful girl inside her. “I’d like you to do a preliminary drawing of the next section.”

      Moments later he stood at his drafting board with Jessie at his side studying the