Aaron Under Construction. Marin Thomas

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      Each morning Jennifer and Juan arrived a half hour ahead of the crew. They used the time to check supplies, examine the previous day’s work for mistakes and decide if anything should be redone. She tossed the blueprint she’d been studying through the open truck window, then cut across the lawn. “Let me guess. A graffiti artist christened the inside of the house.”

      Chuckling, Juan shook his head.

      Jennifer stepped through the doorway and gasped. The entire living-room area and entryway had been wallboarded—with the correct nails pounded in only a little crooked. Every outlet and vent was now visible, though the edges of the cuts were jagged. Juan tugged her across the foyer to the coat closet. A pair of men’s work boots, suspiciously clean boots, stuck out of the doorway. Holding her breath, she peered inside.

      Sitting propped against the wall, neck tilted at an awkward angle, Aaron Smith slept like a baby. Beard stubble darkened his cheeks and the corners of his mouth curved as if he were in the throes of a pleasant dream.

      Good Lord, the man must have worked into the wee morning hours to finish the room. In a world where loyalty was never part of the job description, Aaron was a breath of fresh air. A small part of her wished he’d stayed at the site not for the money, but because he’d wanted to impress her. Shaking her head, she chastised herself for the adolescent thought.

      Juan nudged his foot against the oversize droplight Aaron must have used to provide enough light to work through the night. “It’s not perfect, but it’s done.”

      “Let him sleep until the crew arrives.” After they left the house, she searched the street for Aaron’s truck and was surprised to find the Ford parked beneath a neighbor’s partially collapsed carport at the end of the block.

      When Jennifer had left the site yesterday, Louisa from the main office had rung her cell phone. The secretary knew nothing about Aaron Smith other than that the organization’s head honcho had assigned him to Jennifer’s crew for three months and Aaron had given a P.O. box as his address.

      Juan followed her gaze to Aaron’s truck. “Does he stay?”

      She couldn’t explain the urge inside her to keep Aaron around awhile longer. Urge or not, how could she fire him after he’d busted his backside? “We’re short a man. What do you think?” She trusted Juan’s judgment.

      “The anglo deserves another chance. And we’re behind on the roof.”

      “He’ll require a lot of supervision.”

      “Pedro can help me keep track of the guy.”

      A vision of Aaron’s happy feet dancing off an edge of the house flashed before her eyes and she winced. The last thing Barrio Amigo desired was another Workmans Comp case. But Juan had a point. They had to complete the roof as soon as possible. If the supplier hadn’t delivered the wrong shingles two weeks ago, the roof would have been on by now. Still…Aaron might be more harm than help.

      Reading her mind, Juan assured her, “Don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to your hombre.”

      My man? Good grief, was her interest in Aaron that apparent?

      Before she had time to ponder Juan’s comment, the rest of the crew arrived and Jennifer assigned duties for the day. After the group split apart, she walked into the house to wake Aaron.

      She stood over his sprawled body, listening to the quiet snores escaping his slightly parted lips. What was it about this man that drew her?

      Her fiancé had played her for a fool, pretending to be someone he wasn’t. Unbeknownst to her, he’d coaxed her brother to join in his illegal activities. Soon after, her brother had angered her fiancé and he’d retaliated by shattering her family’s life.

      Never again would she allow a man to get close enough to hurt her or her family. Which made her attraction to Aaron, the mystery man, confusing and frustrating.

      Aaron was a man of secrets. Secrets ruined lives and hurt people. What did she care? In three months he’d be gone for good.

      But he has the nicest smile….

      Keeping her distance was one thing; convincing herself to not like him was another. Just because he wore a borrowed tool belt and figured out how to pound in a nail semistraight didn’t make him Mr. Construction. Buried beneath the hard-hat image, she sensed a sophisticated, educated man used to working with his brain, not his hands. Definitely not your average Joe from the barrio.

      Jennifer belonged in the barrio. Aaron didn’t.

      She prodded his boot, then braced herself in the event he scrambled to his feet and knocked her flat on her butt.

      Slowly, very slowly, he opened his eyes and stared straight at her. He smiled—a sleepy, half-awake grin, that made her insides quiver and jump.

      “Buenos días.”

      “You’re not a dream?”

      What a flirt. “I’m no dream, buddy. I’m your worst nightmare.”

      His grin widened. “You can darken my doorway anytime.”

      Flustered by his sexual banter, she snapped, “I thought I fired you yesterday.”

      A tinge of red crawled up his neck as he scrubbed his hands across his face. “Let me explain.” He shifted position, then grimaced.

      “You’re lucky you survived the night in one piece.”

      “My jacket kept me plenty warm.”

      Was he that naive? “Hypothermia aside, count your blessings you weren’t robbed, beaten or worse. In case you hadn’t noticed, this isn’t Beverly Hills.”

      “I noticed.” He climbed to his feet. “Good morning, Jennifer.”

      Ignoring the way her heart pitter-pattered at the quiet greeting, she wondered if the man woke up every day in such a congenial mood. His eyes, puffy from lack of sleep, glowed with warmth. His brown, slightly wavy hair stuck up in back as if he’d styled it with gel to stay that messy. Adorable. The big, handsome hunk was flat-out adorable.

      “I noticed you finished the living room and entryway.”

      “Does the work pass inspection?” Aaron’s face went from bedroom sexy to lost puppy in seconds flat. How did a woman keep up her defenses around a guy like this?

      “Barely.” She cringed when her answer came out sounding like a sigh.

      “Does that mean I stay on your crew?”

      “You’ll be working on the roof today. Juan will explain what to do.”

      “Yesterday you said no one else spoke English.”

      “I should have said I’m the only one willing to converse with you in English.”

      “As soon as I visit the little green Johnny outside, I’ll get to work.”

      After ten years on construction crews, Jennifer had heard her share of crude talk. But for some reason, she blushed when Aaron mentioned using the Porta Potti. “Hustle up. This is the second day in a row you’ve been late for work.”

      STOMACH RUMBLING like a badly tuned diesel engine, Aaron checked his watch for the hundredth time. Last night, he’d stopped at a mom-and-pop grocery around the corner and purchased a burrito and a Dr Pepper for supper. With the aid of a battery-powered droplight, he’d worked until 4:00 a.m., when he’d crawled into the closet and collapsed. He hadn’t gotten more than a few minutes of uninterrupted sleep before the boss lady had awakened him at the crack of dawn.

      Speaking of the boss lady…Jennifer had been conspicuously out of sight all morning. In his case, out of sight did not mean out of mind. He assumed she’d been the one to set the sports drink next to his jacket during an earlier break. He’d hoped to thank her, but the one instance he’d spotted her, she’d been headed in the opposite direction—not