Big Bad Wolf

GENNITA

LOW

BIG BAD WOLF

A
COS
commando novel

BIG BAD WOLF

* * * * *

PUBLISHED BY:

Gennita Low

Big Bad Wolf

Copyright © 1999 by Gennita Low

Published Dec. 2008

ISBN-13:

ISBN-10:

Cover by Jaxadora Design

This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Big Bad Wolf
. Copyright © 2008
by Gennita Low. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher, Glow World and Gennita Low e-books.

To my friend, Jaime, whom I miss very much.

To Ranger Buddy who taught me much more than roofing.

Here comes trouble.
That was the first thought that crossed Jaymee Barrow’s mind when she saw him walking around the job site. There were men all around her, already busy at work at eight in the morning, men half-naked and sweaty, of all shapes and sizes, but none had the same effect on her as this stranger.

She was a woman used to men.
Having grown up among them, she understood
them better than her few girlfriends
.
She had learned from personal experience to spot trouble of th
e male kind a mile away.
It was still early but she was already perspiring from carrying supplies up and down the ladder.
She impatiently flicked away a drop of perspiration at the end her nose, pausing
in the middle of getting ready for work, her nail gun in one hand, squinting her eyes as she watched the tall man talk to Joe, the electrician, then Stan, the plumber.
They both shook their heads and the stranger moved on, coming closer toward her.
Her finger lightly squeezed the trigger of the nail gun as he approached.

He was tall and whipcord lean.
The tee-shirt he wore clung to his muscular shape like a second skin, damp from the searing
Florida
summer heat, em
phasizing an impressive chest
and a long torso that invited eyes to drift lower, which hers did, all the way.
The faded jeans hung low on his hips, molding and hugging his thighs and legs, doing strange things to her heart rate as she continued staring.
Here comes trouble, the voice in her head repeated, as if in warning.

The stranger tapped one of Jaymee’s men on the shoulder.
“The plumber there told me to ask for Jay.
Which man is he?”

She stiffened.
He was asking for her?

Her workers snickered.
Lucky, the man whose shoulder the stranger
tapped, gave
a gap-toothed smile.
“You want the boss?” he qualified, as if to make sure.

“Yeah.”

“You can find Jay by the blue truck.”

“Thanks.”

Jaymee couldn’t shake off the feeling of impending disaster.
She knew what he would do next, and he didn’t fail her.
He stopped right in front of Dicker and spoke to him.
This close, the slow drawl of his gravelly voice sent shivers down her spine.
“Are you Jay?”

Dicker threw back his head and laughed.
The stranger frowned. Jaymee coughed politely.
Pointedly.
She wa
ited until he turned around
, and cocked her head to one side when he looked down at her.
She decided
she didn’t like the height disadvantage.

His eyes were gray.
No, blue.
Or in between.
However, there wasn’t anything in between about the intensity of his gaze.
He looke
d at her and her insides suddenly felt like the inside of a burning tar kettle
.
Jaymee blinked, feeling suddenly quite dizzy.
What was wrong with her?
He was just a man, like any other, but her heart didn’t seem to agree as it suddenly accelerated to a gallop.

“Jay?”
he asked
, a frown puckering his forehead.

Jaymee nodded, unable to say a word.
Something exuded from him that she couldn’t yet pinpoint; it was a new thing, something that prickled and made her want to jump into her truck, lock it and drive off like the devil was after her.
She shook off such fanciful thoughts, and belatedly tried to find her tongue.
He was jus
t too damn tall, that was all.

“Can I help you?”
To her disgust, her voice came out breathy and slightly husky.

“You’re Jay.”
It was more a statement than a question.
The tone of his voice, as had his expression, had now turned skeptical. “The boss.”

She usually handled similar situations with light amusement.
It was, after all, very rare to find a woman roofer.
A woman roofer/boss at that.
That was why it was easier to be Jay.
Homeowners and people seemed to react differently to Jay, the contractor than Jaymee, the contractor.
However, his whole demeanor irritated her, and thus her answer came out sharper than intended.

“I’
m Jay,” she agreed, and after a slight pause, added, “the boss.
How can I help you?”

He considered her for a moment, then shrugged.
“I’m looking for work, any kind of labor.
Do you have any job openings?”

Jaymee stared up at him.
He had incredibly long eyelashes
, she noted vaguely.
R
ugged and strong-jawed, with full sensuous lips that were slightly crooked.
His hair was long and untidy, like most construction workers, and a devilish lock, black as night, fell across his forehead.
Her eyes traveled down the length of him again—strong, wide shoulders, powerful biceps.
She looked at his large hands.
Long, artistic fingers.
Clean nails.
If he could roof, she thought, then she could build a rocket ship.

He just patiently stood there under her perusal.
When her eyes met his again, she found mockery glinting back at her.
The man was probably
used to being treated like some piece of mouth-watering meat
, and
she
was quickly disgusted with herself.
She met his eyes directly, unflinchingly, refusing to let him see how he affected her.

“I don’t think, Mr…?”
She paused.

“
Langley
.
Nicholas
Langley.”

“Mr. Langley,” Jaymee said, “I don’t think you have any, or enough, roofing experience.
Do you?”

Nicholas
Langley shrugged again.
“I’m a quick learner and a good worker,” he said, “and a damn good carpenter.”

“So why don’t you apply to be one?”
Jaymee asked.
“The pay’s better.”

“The two companies I asked already have a full crew and the third wants me to move.
I’ve
just gotten in town, and I’d rather stay here a while.”

Dammit, s
he needed a carpenter.
She needed a whole crew, with the lack of
good
help around here these
days, and ordinarily, would hire the man on the spot.
But he didn’t look like a carpenter either.

“How do you fare working in hundred-degree heat?”
She wanted to scare him off.

“No problem.”

“What do you know about roofing?”

“That it’s hot work.”

“Can you shingle at all?”

“I can swing a hammer.”

“We use nail guns now, Mr. Langley,” she wryly told him.

“I’m good with guns.”

Jaymee shivered slightly at his voice.
Self-assured and deceptively potent, like good brandy, it had the same heated effect on her stomach.
She sighed inwardly.
She was shorthanded, having fired Rich and Chuck yesterday.
She couldn’t afford to be
picky.
Against her better judg
ment, she asked, “When can you start?”

“Now.”

She arched a brow at him.
“You need tools first,” she told him, then looked down at his feet, “and you have on the wrong kind of shoes.”

Nicholas
Langley looked down and tapped one hiking shoe on the dusty ground.
“What’s wrong with them?”

“The sole will mark and scuff up the shingles,” Jaymee explained.
“You need soft sole rubber, preferably canvas shoes.
Like the
se.”
She lifted her
leg
up
, so he could see her shoes.

“OK.”
His eyes traveled from her shoes up her calf and then her thigh.
She hastily put her foot down.

“Why don’t you start in the morning?” she suggested.
“Bring your tools here.
We start
around eight.
I can’t pay you shingling rate until I see what you’re capable of doing.
The labor
rate isn’t much but once you can lay shingles fast, you get paid by the square.”

“Fine.”
The man wasn’t much of a talker, she concluded.
“Mind if I hang around and watch for a bit?”

“Be my guest,” she answered, and extend
ed a hand.
“Nice meeting you.”

She hoped
Nick Langley wouldn’t return in the morning.
Most of them didn’t.
Roofing wasn’t exactly a much sought-after job.

His grip
was firm and his palm felt surprisingly h
ard.
She eyed him thoughtfully
.
Well, maybe her would-be new laborer could work after all.
Those were the calluses of an outdoor man.
And those muscles mus
t come from somewhere
.