Cowboy for Hire

Get back on track, Con. Drooling over the employees isn’t going to get this project done—and it just might mess everything all up.

One way or another, she’d been lobbying her father for a chance to show her stuff for a while. Now that she finally had it, she was not about to allow something as unpredictable as hormones betray her.

“My name is Constance Carmichael,” she told him, putting out her hand.

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Carmichael.” Her hand felt soft, almost delicate in his, he couldn’t help thinking. His hand all but swallowed hers up. “I’m Finn Murphy.”

“Like the bar?” she asked, trying to fit two more pieces together.

“Like the bar,” he confirmed.

“My father’s Calvin Carmichael,” Connie added.

She was accustomed to seeing instant recognition whenever she mentioned her father’s name. The second she did, a light would come into people’s eyes.

There was no such light in the bartending cowboy’s eyes. It prompted her to say, “He founded Carmichael Construction Corporation.”

Still nothing.

Finn lifted his broad shoulders in a self-deprecating shrug and apologized. “Sorry, ’fraid it doesn’t ring a bell for me.”

That was when it hit her. “I guess it wouldn’t,” Connie said. “The corporation only erects buildings in the larger cities.” The moment she said it, she knew she had made a tactical mistake. The man sitting across the table from her might take her words to be insulting. “I mean—”

Finn raised his hand to stop whatever she might be about to say. “Forever is

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