Flirting with Disaster by Sherryl Woods Read Free Book Online Page A

had ever seen that made her snap to attention. This was a man made for blue jeans and tight T-shirts.
    â€œMy, my,” she whispered to Dinah. “Where has Cord been hiding him? ”
    Dinah chuckled. “In Atlanta mostly. I met him when I went looking for Bobby when you and Cord refused to tell me where he was.”
    â€œAh, yes, your failed quest for your backup guy. Yet even after seeing Josh you still came back here and married Cord,” Maggie said with exaggerated amazement.
    â€œFortunately for you I was interested in more than a great body. I love Cord for his mind,” Dinah said piously.
    â€œYeah, right,” Maggie retorted. “As I recall, Bobby Beaufort had a great mind. It wasn’t enough.”
    â€œIf you’re interested in Josh, I could introduce you.” Dinah offered, her tone casual.
    â€œI’m a big girl. I can introduce myself,” Maggie said. “If I decide I want to.”
    â€œIf? You’re practically salivating now,” Dinah said.
    â€œAll the more reason to wait,” Maggie said. “I don’t want to appear too anxious. Besides, I’ve sworn off men, remember?”
    â€œMaybe so, but can I assume that in the last five minutes you’ve experienced a miraculous recovery from your heartbreak over Warren?” Dinah inquired wryly. “It would be fitting if it took place here in a church.”
    Maggie frowned at her. “Warren didn’t break my heart. He just put a dent in my ego and threw a monkey wrench into my self-confidence. None of that means I can’t appreciate a fine male specimen when I see one.”
    â€œSo you’re simply admiring the view?”
    â€œExactly.”
    And to prove her point, Maggie waited to be the very last person in line to get her assignment for the start of construction next weekend. After all, nobody on earth recognized trouble as readily as she did. Why would she rush right into it?
    And if waiting in line gave her a few more minutes to study Josh’s fine body, so much the better.
    Â 
    Josh had done his share of hiring and firing on the various jobs he’d held through the years. He’d been on the receiving end of more interview questions than most people here today combined. He approached the task of assembling this roomful of volunteers into a construction crew with guarded optimism.
    So far he had twenty-seven people who’d never done a home repair more taxing that plunging a stopped-up drain, five who’d painted the interior of their homes, three who owned decent tools and one who’d actually worked construction—thirty years ago as a summer job. It was discouraging.
    â€œNext,” he called out, already sliding a form across the table.
    The well-manicured hand that reached for it immediately caught his attention. Long, slender fingers, silky-looking skin and nails painted fire-engine red. He sighed at the sight and snatched the form back almost before she’d put her fancy Mont Blanc pen to paper.
    â€œYou don’t need to fill this out,” he said, his dismay complete when he realized the owner of those hands was his last chance to complete a decent crew.
    Dark eyes clashed with his. “Oh? And why is that?”
    â€œBecause…” He glanced at the form she’d begun to fill in. “Ms. Forsythe, I’m assigning you to the lunch team.”
    â€œExcuse me?” Her voice shook with indignation. “Did I hear you correctly? You want me to fix lunches?”
    â€œAnd coffee,” he said, meeting her gaze for the first time. The fire in those eyes could have seared the paint off old lumber. It certainly sent a jolt through his system.
    â€œWhat sort of macho head trip are you on?” she demanded. “I’m female, therefore I cook?”
    â€œWorks for me,” he said, gathering up the forms that had been filled out and trying not to meet that disconcerting gaze.
    â€œWell, it