A Regular Joe: A Regular Joe / Mr. Right Under Her Nose

Two brand-new stories in every volume…twice a month!

Duets Vol. #45

Popular Carol Finch always “presents her fans with rollicking wild adventures…memorable characters and fun from beginning to end,” says Romantic Times Magazine. Joining her this month is mother-and-daughter writing team Jennifer Drew with a delightful spin-off to their first Duets title, Taming Luke.

Duets Vol. #46

The West will never be the same after Debbi Rawlins serves up her first dynamite Double Duets. Affaire de Coeur says “Rawlins’s books are jammed packed with witty dialogue, crazy situations, excellent characters and a lot of laughs!” Enjoy!

Be sure to pick up both Duets volumes today!

A Regular Joe

Carol Finch

Mr. Right Under Her Nose

Jennifer Drew

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Contents

A Regular Joe

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Mr. Right Under Her Nose

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

A Regular Joe

Carol Finch

Man oh man, what a perfect day this was turning out to be!

Mattie Rowland had happened onto an employee who shared her love of art and woodcraft, and whose masculine, dynamic presence put a quick-charge on her feminine battery….

Mattie’s thoughts skidded to an abrupt halt. Good heavens, what was she thinking? Joe Gray, as attractive and appealing to the eye as he was, was off-limits. She was his employer and she couldn’t, wouldn’t, jeopardize their working relationship.

No, the head honcho, who sat on his duff on his velvet throne at corporate headquarters, would undoubtedly frown on a personal relationship developing between his store manager and an employee.

“Strictly business, and you’d better not forget that,” Mattie told herself. It didn’t matter that she was mesmerized by Joe’s whiskey-colored eyes and dark hair. It didn’t matter that she was thirty years old, and her biological clock was ticking loudly. She was his boss and he was her hired assistant and never the twain shall meet, as the saying goes.

Who ever made up that dumb saying, anyway?

Dear Reader,

One of my favorite old movies, Teacher’s Pet, starring Clark Gable and Doris Day, inspired me to create a hero who masquerades as someone he’s not. Combine that potentially explosive ingredient with a lively, trusting heroine who takes truth, honesty and honor very seriously and you have a recipe for trouble. No matter what pretty name, or justifiable reason, you attach to deception, it is what it is and, inevitably, it returns to haunt you—usually in the worst way, at the worst of all possible moments.

Just ask Daniel Grayson, the hero of A Regular Joe. Too late, he realizes he’s on a collision course with self-imposed disaster and that he’s head over heels in love with Mattie Roland, the bubbly, unique female he thoroughly deceived. If Mattie discovers the truth, the fur will fly—most of it Daniel’s, no doubt. Since Daniel lied about his identity, how can he convince Mattie that he speaks the truth when he says he loves her? Like she’ll believe that, coming from his lying lips!

The moral of this story? The lies you tell are gonna get you if you don’t watch out! And so, dear readers, the charade begins…

Enjoy!

Carol Finch

Books by Carol Finch

SILHOUETTE SPECIAL EDITION

1242—NOT JUST ANOTHER COWBOY

1320—SOUL MATES

This book is dedicated to my husband, Ed, and our children, Kurt, Jill, Christie, Jon and Jeff, with much love. And to our grandchildren, Blake, Kennedy and Brooklynn. Hugs and kisses!

A special thanks to my editor, Karen Kosztolnyik, and my agent, Laurie Feigenbaum.

It is a privilege to be working with you!

1

DANIEL JOSEPH GRAYSON, co-founder and CEO of Hobby Hut Enterprises, was running away from home. He wished he’d done it a year ago, because this hiatus was long overdue.

Daniel was desperate to regain his enthusiasm for the family-owned business. He needed to get back in touch with himself, because sitting in his plush executive office, surrounded by yes-men and -women, constantly staring at profit-loss spreadsheets, was distorting his perception of life. Hobby Hut’s version of Stepford wives—those nauseatingly agreeable robots whose sole purpose was to protect their high-dollar salaries and prestigious positions—were driving him absolutely nuts!

No longer could Daniel bounce ideas off his junior executives or expect constructive and innovative input, because he couldn’t trust their hidden motives. A year ago, when his grandfather officially retired, things rapidly deteriorated. J. D. Grayson was the only person Daniel could depend on to tell him the truth, and now the old man was spending his golden years in leisurely pursuits.

Therefore, Daniel decided to leave his executives holding the bag, forcing them to earn their exorbitant wages. He was hotfooting it out of Oklahoma City—without leaving a forwarding address. For one month Daniel was going to become a regular Joe and hope like hell that the working stiffs in this world were nothing like corporate society with its patronized schmoozing—along with a little treacherous backstabbing thrown in for good measure. Daniel craved a breath of fresh country air, longed to shed the cloak of executive privilege, and dodge the entourage of glossy females who saw him as a blue-chip bachelor.

Hell’s jingling bells! He wasn’t sure if he was liked for himself these days, or if his power, wealth and influence formed the world’s perception of him. There was only one way to find out, Daniel mused. When he became your everyday average regular Joe Schmo he would discover how many true friends he could acquire.

Daniel steered the clunker truck that he’d borrowed from his grandfather off the interstate and cruised down the two-lane road toward Fox Hollow. The town was situated in a valley, surrounded by timbered hills and clear blue streams. The community was only a hop, skip and jump away from a scenic lake.

The quaint, off-the-beaten-path hamlet was just what the doctor ordered, he thought to himself. This area of the state catered to hunters, fishermen, lake-goers and retirees. This was the perfect getaway for a cynical, jaded executive—namely him—who needed to get back in touch with the simple pleasures in life.

Feeling his tension and frustration ebb, Daniel cruised his bucket-of-rust truck from one end of Main Street to the other. It took three minutes—less if he hadn’t stopped for the white-haired old woman who jaywalked in front of him. There was one stoplight, dozens of parking spaces without meters, and several wooden barrels—belching riotous collections of flowers—sitting in front of each business establishment. A hardware store, with a sign that read If We Don’t Have What You Need We Can Special Order It, sat on one corner. A floral shop, antique store, tractor-mechanic shop, mom-and-pop grocery, hole-in-the-wall café, tag agency and furniture store lined the street. There were no traffic jams in which road-raging motorists shouted at one another and saluted with their middle fingers. Daniel didn’t hear the screech of brakes or blast of horns. What he heard was the sound of peace and quiet, the warble of birds and local citizens greeting one another as they passed friends and acquaintances on the sidewalk.

Ah, so this was what life was like in the real world. He’d almost forgotten. Daniel glanced down to check the time, then remembered he had stuffed his Rolex into the corporate safe. It was his intention to blend into the scenery and keep a low profile. He’d just as soon no one knew he could afford more than these casual clothes and clunker truck.

Looking west, Daniel spotted the local Hobby Hut. The doors should be opening soon, and he wanted to be first in line to apply for a job. He had selected this specific town for his hiatus for two reasons. Number one—it was only forty-five minutes from his office in the city. And two—this store manager’s sales reports were impressive. Mattie Roland was doing more business in this little town than other Hobby Huts were doing in major cities in a five-state area.

Determined to acquire a job at his own store, Daniel hiked down the street, amazed that strangers nodded and greeted him as if he were a long-lost friend. He felt welcome immediately, and he hadn’t been here more than ten minutes.

Daniel pulled up short and stared in amazement at the window displays at Hobby Hut. They were divided into four sections—nautical, folk art, colonial and Americana. Original and print reproductions of landscape and still-life paintings, accentuated by Hobby Hut frames, were bookended by hand-painted curio and knickknack shelves that boasted figurines and collectibles. Small console tables, deacon’s benches and storage chests had been painted to match the theme of each display. Daniel stood there for several minutes, absorbing the ambiance, admiring the artwork and cleverly arranged displays. No wonder Mattie Roland was one of the top managers in the company. Her displays practically reached out and grabbed you off the street and lured you into her store.

The words inspiring and imaginative came quickly to mind. These examples of decor made you want to give your home a makeover, to fill each cubbyhole, niche and wall with these intriguing combinations of art, woodcrafting and antiques that created a homey, welcoming appearance.

Finding the door unlocked, Daniel entered, hearing the tinkling sound of delicate chimes that announced his arrival.

“I’ll be with you in a minute,” came a sultry female voice from somewhere in the near distance. “Browse to your heart’s content.”

Daniel blinked, startled. Who was minding the store? A dozen expensive items could be shoplifted before the manager emerged from the back room. Maybe Mattie Roland wasn’t Employee of the Year after all.

While Daniel surveyed the items on the aisles the white-haired woman who’d jaywalked in front of his rattletrap truck waddled inside. She nodded cordially to him, then stared toward the workroom in the back of the store.

“Mattie? How’s my project coming along? You about finished, hon? My son and grandchildren are coming tomorrow, ya know. I want to have my shelves and family pictures hung before they arrive.”

“Not to worry, Alice,” said the disembodied voice. “I’m putting the finishing touches on your shelves right now. Come on back and have a look-see.”

Daniel was surprised the hunch-shouldered senior citizen could move so fast. She scurried off in her orthopedic shoes, her cotton dress swishing around her as she went.

While Alice and Mattie did their thing in the workroom, Daniel circumnavigated the store, marveling at several other eye-catching displays of woodcrafts, ceramics and unusual antiques. Mattie Roland was obviously a whiz when it came to interior decorating. Daniel never would have thought to assemble these particular items and arrange them as she had, but the effect was extraordinary. The woman definitely had a gift!

Daniel’s brain short-circuited when he glanced over his shoulder to see a petite but voluptuous female, dressed in paint-splattered jeans and T-shirt, walking toward him. There was a smudge of Lucky Shamrock Green on the tip of her nose and a streak of Longjohn Red on her elbow. Her raven-colored ponytail was slightly off center, but amethyst-colored eyes, rimmed with incredibly long lashes, dominated her pixielike face. Mattie Roland was five feet four inches, one hundred fifteen pounds—give or take—of arresting female who reminded him of an enchanting leprechaun.

Mesmerized, Daniel stood there like a tongue-tied doofus. This vivacious young woman was Mattie Roland? Employee of the Year?

“Hi,” Mattie greeted cheerily. “Is there something I can help you find in Hobby Hut?”

The sizzling jolt of awareness caused his tongue to stick to the roof of his mouth. He, who spent the past several years with prima donnas latched to his arms like English ivy, had suddenly encountered the girl-next-door variety of female. Mattie wasn’t what Daniel was accustomed to, but he definitely approved of the look of her.

Daniel was excessively pleased that he’d selected Fox Hollow for his hiatus. And speaking of fox, Mattie Roland was definitely that, in his opinion. She appealed to everything male in him. She had that wholesome, vital appearance that he much preferred over the bottled variety and surgically implanted artificial beauty women relied on to enhance their facial features and figures. The indifference he’d been experiencing with his shallow, glamorous companions of late took a flying leap when Mattie, with an energetic spring in her walk, strode up to him and blessed him with a two-hundred-watt smile.

“Sir?” she prompted when he continued to stand there, absorbing the refreshing sight of her. “Are you looking for a gift for your wife or girlfriend? Need supplies for a woodcrafting project?”

“No wife, no girlfriend,” he said when his vocal apparatus began to function. “I’m looking for a job.”

“Really?” She seemed startled. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, I just arrived in town, and I’m looking for work,” he lied convincingly. Then he inwardly winced when he realized he was no better than his yes-executives who would lie through their smiles if it would get them onto a higher rung on the corporate ladder.

“I’m surprised you came in here,” she said, as she absently reached over to rearrange a porcelain figurine that wasn’t perfectly aligned on the shelf.

“Why?” He wanted to know.

“Most men in town consider this a sissified store where their wives and girlfriends shop. Most of my customers are women.”

“Other men think woodcrafting is sissy stuff?” he asked, affronted. “That is beyond ridiculous. Table saws, miter saws, and nail guns are not for the faint of heart. You could lose a finger if you accidentally cut skin and bone rather than wood. I spent my teenage years in a workshop, creating shelving, tables and cabinets. Sissy stuff?” He snorted in objection. “No, I don’t think so!”

Her bubbling laughter filled the space between them. Her violet eyes danced with amusement, and Daniel blushed, realizing this was the first time in a year that he’d expressed much sentiment on any subject. Mattie probably thought he was wacko because he had such strong feelings about woodcraft—the same kind of passion that he and his grandfather experienced while they labored on their craft projects in the old days.

“Obviously you have experience and a love for woodcrafting,” she said, chuckling. “I share and appreciate your enthusiasm. And you probably won’t believe this, but I just received a fax from the corporate office an hour ago, indicating that I should hire an assistant.”

Of course he believed it. Daniel had sent that fax from his office immediately before he headed south to Fox Hollow. He was here to fill the position he had created.

“As it happens,” she was saying when he tuned back in, “I’ve been swamped, and my only other employee is a high school art student who helps out after class and on Saturdays. I have so many special projects going that I can’t keep up, even though I’ve been working double days.”

She pivoted on her heels, allowing Daniel an alluring view of her inverted heart-shaped derriere wrapped in faded denim. “Come back to my office and fill out the application.”

He followed the enticing sway of her hips like a kitten on the trail of fresh cream. The past few years Daniel had begun to think his sex drive had withered away. However, one look at Mattie Roland’s hourglass figure and infectious smile and his male body woke up and was ready to party on. It had been a long time since Daniel felt such a spontaneous attraction.

He really shouldn’t have been surprised Mattie affected him instantaneously, he told himself as he followed his fantasy version of the Pied Piper. Mattie was real people. She was warm, outgoing, friendly and seemingly content with life. She was obviously doing what she loved and loved what she was doing. Daniel envied that about her.

Enthusiasm personified, he realized. That’s what she was. Mattie was exactly what he needed—someone who cared as deeply for his business as he once had. He could use an injection of her spirit and zest. He needed to bottle her up so he could take daily doses to counteract the mounting frustration he had been experiencing in his corporate office.

“Here you go,” she said, handing him the application. “Park yourself at my desk and fill this out. This is just red tape sent down by Double H at Double H.”

“Double H?” he questioned curiously.

“The head honcho at Hobby Hut,” Mattie informed him. “Ask me, the man requires entirely too much paperwork, which prohibits a manager from going one-on-one with customers. But you know how those highbrow executives are. They don’t trust us little guys and gals to manage business properly, especially way down here in the boondocks. Probably think that we small-town folks only operate with half a brain.” She shrugged, and her dark ponytail rippled over her shoulder. “But the big boss in corporateland didn’t ask my opinion, even if I’m the one out here in the trenches selling his products.”

Daniel inwardly cringed when she confided her complaints about the head honcho. If Mattie knew she was talking to the CEO of Hobby Hut, she’d be thoroughly embarrassed.

“So, do you dislike all company executives on general principle or just this big boss in particular?” he asked as he plunked down in her chair at the desk.

“I had a personal run-in with a hotshot executive before I landed this job,” she explained. “He seemed to think it was my company duty to offer him fringe benefits and that he was doing me a tremendous favor by suggesting that I join his corporate harem. He also thought who he was should impress me enormously, which it didn’t. I quit and applied for this position.

“I strongly dislike the type of executive who uses his power and position to get what he wants. Although I don’t know Double H personally, I suspect he possesses the same character flaws.” Mattie relocated a stack of papers to give him the needed space on the desktop so he could fill out the application. “I bet I can peg Double H,” she declared. “High-dollar Rolex on his wrist to match the expensive rings on his fingers. BMW sitting in his personal parking space that no one else is allowed to use under penalty of death. Glitzy cover-model types of females on his arm. A different glamour goddess for each day of the week, no doubt. Carries a state-of-the art cell phone, dresses in the best clothes his money can buy, and surrounds himself with every power and prestige symbol known to mankind to impress the rest of us peons.”

Daniel inwardly grimaced. So far, Mattie had been right on target. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the rest of her speculations.

“Double H’s interest, I suspect, is the enterprise’s bottom line of dollars and cents. He probably doesn’t give a rip if customers are getting their money’s worth, only that the profit margin pads his pocket. And his sales policy,” she added with a snort. “His so-called big sales are his way of getting rid of stuff no one wants. I’d like to see a sale on expensive items that customers on fixed incomes can purchase, instead of stare at whimsically.”

Head downcast, Daniel filled in the blanks on the application, while listening to Mattie comment on company policy.

From behind him, Mattie glanced over his shoulder. “Joe Gray, is it? Nice to meet you. I’m Mattie Roland, your new employer.”

He lifted his head. “You’re pretty trusting. I haven’t even filled in the blank about whether or not I have a criminal record.”

“You don’t,” she said with great confidence. “You aren’t the type.”

“You know several criminals personally, do you?”

She laughed, and the sound whispered through him like a breath of spring air. God, she was good for him—all that vibrant spirit and enthusiasm. Not to mention the arousing effect she had on him when she was close enough for him to pick up her enticing scent.

“The small-time criminals I deal with in Hobby Hut are easy to spot. In your case, the way you dress, the way you speak, and your passion for working with your hands comes through loud and clear. I think you’re just what this store needs. It’s time some of the Neanderthal males in Fox Hollow realized that art, woodcraft and interior decor are not sissy stuff. Having you mind the shop will put them at ease—once they get used to the idea,” she tacked on, then took another peek at his application.

“Thirty-five years old. Last permanent address in Oklahoma City. Hmm,” she said thoughtfully. “Got tired of the hustle and bustle, did you? I presume you like to hunt, fish, and get in touch with nature. You’ll like it here in Fox Hollow. I also expect the eligible females hereabout will be on your trail once they’ve spotted you.”

Daniel—or rather, Joe Gray—glanced over his shoulder to see Mattie grinning impishly. “You think I’m a babe magnet? Me? In my faded polo shirt that’s been through too many spin cycles in the washing machine, and these old jeans?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Clothes don’t make the man. It’s what’s inside, but yeah, I’d have to place you in the babe magnet category, Joe. You’re tall, handsome, and those amber eyes of yours are gorgeous. They remind me of sunrise and sunset all rolled into one. But not to worry, you won’t get the slightest pressure from me. I’m your employer, and we’ll be friends who share mutual interests.”

He was disappointed to hear that, he really was.

“If you need background information on prospective dates, I’ll be happy to fill you in, since I’ve lived here most of my life.”

They were going to be just pals? Damn, his suddenly rowdy male body didn’t like the sound of that one little bit. After a long dormancy, his masculine engine was revving up, only to be shut down by this spunky, spirited little pixie who had captured his interest without trying. Maybe that was what he deserved for being lukewarm toward those cover-model types who fluttered around him because of his wealth and reasonably good looks.

Having completed his application—falsified though it was, and his conscience was nipping at him for that—Joe handed her the paper. He watched as she perched a shapely hip on the edge of her desk to scan the information.

“You left your current residence blank,” she noted. “Where do you plan to live, Joe?”

He shrugged. “I noticed that Hush-a-Bye Inn on the outskirts of town rents rooms by the week. I can store my stuff there while I’m looking for something else.”

“Or you could move into the furnished garage apartment where I used to live,” she suggested. “Now that my grandfather has moved into Paradise Valley Convalescent Home I’ve taken over his house. At Pops’s insistence, I might add. He wouldn’t be in the nursing home if his arthritis and diabetes hadn’t flared up on him.”