I Do! I Do!. Pamela Toth

Nita shook her head. “Mitch isn’t that way. I’ve been here since the beginning and I’ve never seen him cross that line. Everyone who works here knows that kind of thing isn’t tolerated.” She glanced over her shoulder, lowering her voice even more. “Trust me, his first love is the business. You don’t have a thing to worry about in that department.”

      Nita’s words should have reassured the new and improved Liz, but what she felt was disappointment. Was she attracted to him despite her best efforts?

      “Good to know,” she replied calmly just as he reappeared.

      “To know what?” he asked.

      “I was just telling her that the medical insurance takes effect in thirty days,” Nita replied innocently. “Well, I’ve got to get back to work or the boss will be after me.” She winked at Liz. “I’ll order your shirts. Let me know if you have any more questions about the benefits package.”

      “Sure thing,” Liz replied. “Thanks.”

      “Okay, shall we go?” Mitch held open the heavy door to the manufacturing area with its noisy machines, loud music and raised voices. Just inside the door was a rack holding hard hats. When she reached for a bright yellow one as she had on her first day, he stretched his hand above her head and took down a green one.

      “This is what a Cates employee wears,” he said, handing it to her.

      Her name was printed in gold above the molded brim.

      “Thank you.” Cautiously she set it on her upswept hair. Funny how having a hat with her name on it made her feel like one of the team.

      As a time clock mounted on the wall next to a rack of cards clicked over, he donned a matching hat that looked slightly beat up. “This way.”

      Mitch had to bite his tongue to keep himself from telling Lizbeth how cute she looked in her new headgear. He’d thought getting to know her would be easier on his home turf, but she still intimidated him.

      Like a little boy showing off a birdhouse he’d constructed from popsicle sticks, he took out a key ring. Unlocking a door in the wall, he led her to the place where his ideas took shape. If she was bored silly, it would probably serve him right for thinking a woman like her would find it—or him—interesting.

      Their gazes met as he opened the door and let her go ahead of him. What choice did he have but to try?

      “Wow.” Slowly she turned in a circle as she looked around the clean, well-lit room. “I expected someplace dark and cluttered, but this looks more like a lab than an inventor’s workshop.”

      His gaze followed hers. On the wall above the spacious counter were assorted hand tools. A rack held blueprints and specs. File cabinets lined the short wall next to a small beat-up desk, bare except for a computer. Across from it was a drafting table. Nothing was out of place.

      “I guess I’m a little obsessive when it comes to where I work,” he said apologetically.

      Great, now she thought he was some kind of oddball neat freak. He’d hoped she might view him as fascinating and clever, not as the nutty professor.

      “I confess, I’m with you,” she said, surprising him. “I just can’t stand having a lot of stuff every-where. It just makes me crazy.” When she leaned closer, the scent he’d learned to associate with her teased his nostrils. “Want to know something?”

      “Uh-huh.” He bobbed his head.

      “I’m a secret organizer,” she whispered conspiratorially. “I go crazy in those container stores.”

      “I…I’ll have to check one out,” he said.

      The door was shut to keep out the noise and dust from the main area. Maybe being alone with her in here wasn’t such a good idea.

      She looked around curiously, her slim hands resting on her hips. Today she wore navy blue slacks and a man-tailored light blue shirt that failed to disguise her curves. Even now, more simply dressed and wearing little if any cosmetics, she made his breath catch.

      He’d be in serious trouble if he had to spend forty plus hours a week in a constant state of awareness, with the blood flow to his brain seriously diminished.

      “What does this do?” she asked, indicating a small drill press.

      Briefly he explained. “Most of the actual machining is done out there. No point in duplicating equipment.”

      “You love it, don’t you?” she guessed. “All this, it’s not just a job, a business. It’s a passion with you.”

      “Everyone should work at what they love,” he replied. “What good is success if you aren’t happy?”

      “Exactly!” She looked pleased. “That’s what I want, to feel that way about what I do and to work at a job I believe in.”

      He studied her, reminded that there was more to her than dark flashing eyes and a shape to make a man weep. “Do you think you can find that here, or is it too soon to tell?”

      When she grinned, he pretended it was for the man and not the boss.

      “I’m hoping,” she replied. “I guess we’ll find out.”

      He thought about tossing caution aside and kissing her, but he’d never gained anything worthwhile by plunging ahead without a plan. Glad she couldn’t read his mind, he took her back to the office, breathing a sigh of relief when the reception desk was safely between them.

      “I suppose you know that DJ and Allaire are getting married on Friday,” he began cautiously.

      She took her seat, looking up at him warily. “Yes, I’d heard.” Something flickered in her eyes, making him wonder if she was over her broken engagement to Dax.

      “He’s been my friend for a long time,” Mitch continued, “so I can’t miss it.”

      Liz’s expression lost some of its wariness. “Of course not,” she echoed. “It should be a nice ceremony. I overheard at the beauty shop that Allaire’s going with a Parisian theme.”

      “What the heck does that mean?” he blurted, genuinely puzzled. How did women come up with stuff like that? “A cake shaped like the Eiffel Tower?”

      Liz burst into laughter. “I truly haven’t a clue. You’ll have to let me know.”

      Under the circumstances, he wasn’t surprised that she hadn’t been invited. “They’re keeping it kind of small,” he explained hastily as a car door slammed out front.

      He looked out the window. Damn, he’d forgotten all about his appointment with the rep from the new graphics company. It was local, which he preferred.

      “That must be Jim Parks from Mountain Art,” Liz said after she’d glanced at her notepad. “Do you want to duck into your office real quick so I can show him back?”

      What rotten timing.

      “No, not necessary,” Mitch replied as the salesman, gray-haired with glasses, entered the building. “Jim,” he exclaimed, extending his hand. “I’m Mitchell Cates. Come on in.”

      Liz didn’t talk to Mitch again all afternoon. Since she had nothing else to do, she did some research about the business on the Web. At least she might be able to ask Mitch some intelligent questions.

      She saw the rep walk around from the main shop and get into his car, but her boss wasn’t with him. There was only so much a person could retain about farm equipment at one sitting and Nita was busy compiling a report. Time dragged.

      Liz finally went to Mitch’s office on the pretext of asking if he wanted coffee, but he wasn’t in. On a sideboard rested a photo of his poker group seated around a picnic table. It was the same guys who had been at the party she’d crashed; Mitch, Marshall, Russ, Grant, DJ and Dax.

      For