Cutting Loose. Susan Andersen

she appreciated the boost this bequest had given her and she intended to repay Agnes’s faith in her abilities by doing the very best job she could.

      So yes, she had been prepared, and therefore the success of her meeting with the director had not come as a major surprise.

      What had knocked her socks off was the sheet cake bearing Congratulations, Jane in ruby-colored frosting that had been in the staff room at lunch today. Even more shocking had been the special announcement that Marjorie had given the staff. She’d freely credited Jane with bringing two valuable Wolcott collections to the Seattle Metropolitan Museum. The genuine enthusiasm that the director displayed as she’d shared Jane’s newly revised schedule for the next couple of months in order to get them ready for the January exhibit had blown her away.

      The last thing she’d been prepared for was public kudos. In fact, she’d half expected the change in her status to fly under the radar for as long as the powers that be could manage it, given the way it had been forced upon them.

       Want these prestigious collections? Then be prepared to take the junior curator along with it was the general theme of Agnes’s bequest.

      Along with Marjorie’s acknowledgment, however, had come her expectations for this exhibit. She’d talked about how much the museum was counting on it to generate needed revenue during the traditionally slow postholiday period in which they’d slated the show. So now Jane was feeling downright twitchy and even more anxious than she’d already been. She had to find the couture clothing, pronto, and get a move on.

      “Jane, Jane! Wait up!” a voice commanded from behind her.

      She hesitated. Today’s events had both rattled and exhilarated her, making her so jittery that simply standing still was very nearly impossible. Still, she forced herself to do exactly that as she waited for her colleague Gordon Ives to catch up.

      Gritting her teeth at the delay, she forced a smile for Gordon that probably wouldn’t fool a toddler. Hell, she doubtless looked like a toddler doing the I-gotta-go dance in front of a closed bathroom door. How embarrassing was that?

      Well, too bad. She was fighting the urge to move, move, move as hard as she could. Smiling brilliantly at the same time was simply beyond her.

      She tried all the same for a more genuine smile as Gordon walked up to her. Memories of Marjorie’s graciousness helped her produce one.

      “I’ve said it before, girl, but I’ll say it again.” Gordon greeted her with a big white-veneered smile of his own. “Congratulations! What a huge job you have ahead of you.”

      “No kidding. The past couple days I’ve been finding out exactly how immense it’s going to be.” Which contributed to both her edginess and her elation. “I’m a little concerned about the deadline the director’s put me on. I’m going to have to be really focused to get everything done in that time frame.”

      “Focus is your claim to fame.” He waved her worries aside like so many pesky flies. “Obviously Marjorie has no doubt that you can do the job and do it both well and on time. But if there’s anything I can do-”

      She made a noncommittal noise, because the truth be told, if she needed help she’d probably enlist Poppy. Her friend might not be as knowledgeable as Gordon, but they worked well together. Not to mention that with the holidays approaching, Poppy could probably use a little extra cash to round out what she made with her mishmash of jobs.

      Besides, as much as she hated to admit it, there was something about Gordon that she didn’t quite trust. There was no good reason for it-he’d never done anything to her. It was probably nothing more than his wanna-be-your-best-friend occasional toadying combined with his predilection for narcissistic metrosexual grooming. Because, really, who could take a guy seriously who spent more on manicures and moisturizers in six weeks than she did in a year? She couldn’t help it; she preferred men who had a firm grasp on their identity-and were perhaps just the slightest bit rough around the edges.

      Like a certain construction foreman…

      Whoops. Didn’t want to go there. “Thank you for the good wishes. And if I decide I need help I’ll definitely keep you in mind.” She started edging away.

      “Are you on your way over to the Wolcott mansion now?” he asked, taking a step forward for her every step back.

      “Yes.” She quit trying to be subtle about it and simply started walking down the corridor. The nerves zinging in her arms and legs immediately quieted, but she had to smooth out a frown drawing her eyebrows together when Gordon fell into step beside her. She picked up her pace slightly.

      He matched his stride to hers. “If you want, I could stop by after work sometime and give you a hand.”

      She was a bit startled by the suggestion, but said carefully, “Thank you, Gordon, I appreciate the offer. But I’m still in the sorting phase and kind of want to-” Damn. How did she say this without sounding like little Miss Greedy-guts?

      “Stamp your brand all over it before you let anyone else touch it?”

      “Yes! Exactly.” She looked at him in a new light. And felt a little guilty for her heretofore less-than-flattering opinion of him. Guy grooming products and facials be damned, he obviously had more depth to him than she’d given him credit for. “I will definitely keep your offer in mind, though. Right now there’s just so much stuff in the mansion that I haven’t even found the Met’s collections yet.”

      “Huh. I’d say poor baby, but the truth is, I’m pea-green with envy.” He gave her a crooked smile. “And green is so not my color.”

      She laughed. “Not exactly a big candidate for sympathy, am I? Man, I still can’t believe that I get to be in charge of all this, myself. Speaking of which-” she accelerated her pace to a full-out stride “-if I want to start whittling away at my workload I’d better get to it.”

      “All right then.” He slowed down as she sped up. “Good luck. And don’t forget I’m available if you ever need any help.”

      “I will.” She waved a hand, but didn’t slow down as she hit the door to the stairs. “Thanks.” Feeling kind of warm and fuzzy toward him at the moment, she truly meant it.

      By the time she’d pushed through the main museum doors into the blustery fall afternoon a few minutes later, however, her mind was already on other matters. Anticipation began bubbling through her veins.

      She could hardly wait to get to work.

       CHAPTER FOUR

       Holy crap, the Kavanagh family sounds huge . I can’t wrap my mind around what it must be like to grow up with a mess of brothers and sisters. Bet it was nice, though.

       “D AMN ,” D EV MUTTERED as he opened the kitchen door to the Wolcott mansion two evenings later and stepped inside to punch the code into the alarm system. “I see mistake written all over this in big red letters.” Not for the first time he noted the system’s advanced age, but shrugged it aside. Its obsolescence was the Estrogen Posse’s problem. Right now, he had one of his own.

      “Oh, quit your bitching,” his problem, in the form of his sister Hannah, ordered. Entering the kitchen hard on his heels, she snapped the back of his head with her fingers.

      “Ow! Shit.”

      “If you’d bothered to stay around for longer than a week at a pop during any of your less-than-frequent visits, you’d know I check out every work site at least once during the project.”

      Rubbing the spot she’d smacked, he glared at her. “You’re just as full of crap as ever, I see. Try to get your facts straight. I come home a minimum of once a year, which is a lot more often than you come to see me. And except for last year when I had to get back to crew a boat to Morocco I always stick around for longer than a week.” Before heading back home happy to have seen his family, but feeling vaguely disconnected from them, as well.

      “Haven’t