Thoroughbreds and Trailer Trash by Bev Pettersen Page A

But that wasn’t wise either. She feared she might lick her lips. It had been a little too long since she’d stopped seeing Colin, and she’d always had a thing for muscles. Probably a natural fixation developed from working with big horses. Completely understandable.
    She cleared her throat. “So you want me to help take the owners around? No problem. I’ve done quite a few tours.”
    “Yes, that’s what the receptionist said.” When he turned around, his smile had been replaced with a customary scowl. “I’m not exactly sure what Frances does behind that counter besides crossword puzzles. I expected she could look after some tours. We may have to make a position adjustment.”
    There was no doubt what he meant. “She’s fine,” Jenna said quickly. “Just a little set in her ways. She keeps the feed room clean and the staff washroom. Beside, I always do the tours with Wally. Usually I look after technical questions and he looks after the business side.”
    “Really? Wally doesn’t know the technical side?”
    There it was again and she took a hasty sip of tea. First a threat to Frances and now obvious disapproval of Wally. All in thirty seconds. Burke was so damn attractive, she sometimes forgot he was also dangerous. Big mistake. She set her cup on the table, hiding her slight tremor.
    “Of course, Wally knows the technical side,” she said. “But it’s just the way we did things. He’s great with people. And smart. You might want to consider using him for the tour. After all, he’ll need to build a relationship with Nifty’s people.”
    Burke stepped closer and abruptly dropped three green files in front of her. One ‘N’ and two ‘M’s.’ ‘Murphy, Jenna’ included. She couldn’t believe her luck.
    “You want me to work on these now?” she asked, trying not to stare at her name. “And once I check everyone’s certificates, their salaries are adjusted?” She kept her voice neutral, almost bored. This was way too easy.
    “Not quite. Anyone you find eligible for a pay hike, based on educational qualifications, will then sign a document testifying validity. Employees are automatically terminated for falsehood, so it provides us with recourse…in the event action is required.”
    She swallowed a lump the size of her fist but crossed her arms and shrugged, pretending the topic was all rather amusing. “Terminated? What a ridiculous word. Why don’t you just say fired? And nobody’s going to fake something so easily checked. Gosh, don’t you trust us?”
    He turned, crossed to the large window, and studied the workmen. Silent. If he were trying to intimidate her, it worked.
    She forced a disdainful sniff and flipped open a file but couldn’t resist a cautious peek. He still stared out the window, his broad back to her. Everyone had an outlet, and it was obvious construction was his. That fresh piney smell showed he’d been working with wood again. His hard hat had been tossed on the corner chair, the battered white hat that had been so misleading on his first day.
    Sometimes she wished he were a simple laborer. A saw whirred from outside and someone laughed, but it seemed like hours since anyone in this office had spoken. He hadn’t answered her question, and it was painfully apparent he didn’t trust them.
    “Why didn’t you just go into the construction industry?” she asked quietly, unable to remain silent.
    “My family would have been appalled.”
    “You like this instead?” She gestured at the files in frustration. “Searching for weak links, entrapping employees, firing well-meaning staff? Frances and Wally are good people.”
    He spun from the window and stalked toward the door, his voice clipped. “Better get to work. This isn’t efficient use of company time.”
    The door closed behind him with a controlled click. Heck, he didn’t even slam doors. She picked up her tea, trying to warm her cold hands, trying to ignore the fact she’d just been given a very clear