Maddy's Oasis (2 page)

“What are your men doing now?” she asked,
glancing toward the half dozen men ambling toward the
structure.

“Ma’am, they plan on conducting an ancient
Indian ritual to cleanse the building of evil spirits,” Javier
said, reaching for a thermos.

She stared at him. He twisted the top of the
thermos off and poured a cup of coffee, handing it to her.

“Maybe this’ll calm you down,” he
offered.

“Just … please, give me some indication
you’ll work with me here,” she said. She sipped the coffee,
expecting it to be as rough as the man before her and surprised at
its smooth, mild flavor.

“You ever built a building?” Javier
asked.

“No.”

“Know anything about building buildings?”

“No.”

“What’re you doing here?”

“I’m damage control,” she explained. "Our
boss believes that program managers need to know how to manage
programs, not be experts in any one field."

“At least you're honest.” Javier tilted his
head toward the seated man. "My nephew, Jake."

Madeleine glanced at the quiet man, noting
the similar white T-shirt, cowboy hat, and jeans.

“Jake’ll be handling your project,” Javier
continued.

“I expected this project to be given your
company’s utmost support and expertise,” she said firmly.

“Jake went to one of your
schools out east,” Javier stated. “He’s the best in Texas. Ask him
for a
timeline
.”

Madeleine suspected she would receive nothing
more concrete from a blood relative of Javier than she would the
man himself. Javier, however, seemed satisfied with himself. He
handed her the coffee thermos, slapped the seated man on the arm,
and strode to the nearest truck.

She drew a deep breath to calm herself before
turning to the man in whose hands her entire life seemed to
rest.

“Jake.”

The man unfolding himself
from the truck was larger than she expected. Over six feet
and
solid
. He was
wide of shoulder, as muscular as a linebacker. Jeans and T-shirt
were snug in all the right places, revealing sculpted biceps and
the outline of muscular thighs. He wore traditional cowboy boots
and a thick belt with a bright buckle. Eyes were hidden behind
reflective sunglasses and the rest of his face behind the blueprint
in his hands. His hair was in a traditional military styled high
and tight.

“Jake, can you provide me a timeline for
estimating the damage and repairs?” she asked.

“Sure.” His Texan accent was less evident,
his deep voice rich and quiet.

“I have paper in the office,” she said.

He trailed her as she hurried back to the
trailer. The darkness blinded her once more, and she paused before
crossing to her briefcase to retrieve the paper and pen. Jake
seated himself on one of the couches. She crossed to sit near him
on the same couch, holding out the pen and paper.

He was a handsome man, she noticed, unable to
help her surprise at finding such a specimen so far from
civilization. Sunglasses were perched on his head to reveal large,
dark eyes with long eyelashes, a thick and low brow, a noble,
aquiline nose, chiseled jaw, tilted cheekbones, and a thick coat of
caramel-shaded skin. She found herself staring openly at him,
unaware of how much time passed before he finally spoke.

“These blueprints have been altered down to
the foundation,” he observed, studying the colored sheets of
paper.

“Meaning what exactly?”

“Meaning the foundation must be
replaced.”

“No,” she said, and shook her head. “Starting
over isn’t an option.”

Jake met her gaze with a raised eyebrow. She
was surprised at the bloom of heat within her caused by the direct
look of the hunk next to her.

“You asked for my estimate,” he pointed out,
the Texan drawl slowing his speech.

“Let’s start with the damage assessment. How
long will it take to repair everything?”

“You don’t know what you’re doing.”

Though agitated by his
directness, she said evenly, “No, I don’t.
That…
” She motioned toward the
building beyond the office door, “…looks like a mess to
me.”

“It is,” he agreed. “Beyond repair.”

“No,” she said again. “I don’t have time to
rebuild.”

“Repair would take just as long.”

“You’ll have to deal with what’s there,” she
said. “Something must be salvageable.”

“And the changes in the blueprints?”

“What about them?”

“I can’t repair the damage according to old
blueprints. The changes in this set will be done
simultaneously.”

“Fine,” she said. “Make the changes as you
repair. How long?”

“When it’s done,” he said, and stood. Like
his uncle, he left without another word. She watched him, her gaze
falling to his perfectly shaped backside as he strode out of the
office.

She started after him and tripped over the
concrete block used to prop open the door. She cursed and leaned
against the door. Jake was waving all the awaiting men toward the
building. She rubbed her stubbed toe, aware of the blisters already
forming from chasing down Javier. Convinced Javier and Sons would
be the death of her, she forced herself to focus on the office.

It, too, was a complete disaster, and for the
second time in half an hour, she felt overwhelmed by her
circumstances. She forced her mind away from the contracting
situation. In truth, she needed to determine the status of the
finances before being confronted with the price tag attached to the
damage and changes to blueprints.

She carefully laid her suit jacket on a couch
and set out to decode Alex’s chaotic filing system. As she
approached the desk, she clipped her Bluetooth earpiece in place
and dialed Mr. Howard’s financial department.

* * *

Jake spent the afternoon going over the
structure, his opinion of the idiots who built it growing worse.
When dark fell, he remained with a flashlight to go over the
outside of the building and jotted down notes. It was near midnight
when he decided he'd had enough of the blooming onion of a
building. He started toward his truck and saw the city-girl's car
still there. A weak light glowed from the trailer. He was annoyed
rather than surprised she was still there, recalling very well the
speed and urgency attached to everything back east. It was one of
two reasons he left New York City and returned home. The other
reason: his busted leg with its metal plates that ended his chances
of an NFL career.

He didn't regret leaving. Life was not
enjoyed by those consumed in meeting after meeting, phone call
after phone call, and relentless overtime. He preferred to be his
own master in the wide open desert of west Texas, working with his
family.

He gazed up at the structure once again,
taking in its dimensions and reviewing the angles, materials, and
time it would take to create the vision on the blueprints before
him, assuming things weren't as bad as he suspected.

The response made him grunt. Too long. He
knew any amount of time would be viewed as too long by the
city-girl still holed up in the trailer despite the hour. Only half
of the floodlights were working due to three destroyed generators,
but his men remained, cleaning up the area and reporting back with
assessments of the building’s structure.

Most of the assessments pointed to fast,
shoddy work. The foundation was already cracked in several places.
The dangerously ill-constructed workmanship in general made him
shake his head. He'd heard of Smithson’s work in the past; however,
he'd never witnessed the brazen shoddiness of the sleazy little
man.

The entire building needed to come down and
be started over.

“Jake? Oh, sorry, hold on.”

He recognized the soft voice without turning
and rolled his eyes at Toni, his uncle and foreman, as the
city-girl took yet another phone call. Then he pivoted and took in
the young woman with the phone to her ear. With the expensive suit
and heels, her athletic frame was stylish and out of place in the
middle of the desert.

“Bring in everyone but the Reyes crew," he
said to Toni. “We’re done for the night.”

Toni pulled free the whistle he kept around
his neck and blew it twice. Jake rolled the blueprints once more
and turned, knocking the ill-balanced woman back a few steps as he
pushed them toward her and strode on.

“Nigel, wait … no, I’ll call you back,” she
said hurriedly in irritation. She disconnected the call and trotted
after him. “Jake!”

Her small hand rested on his bicep. He turned
and saw her glance down at the buzzing BlackBerry.

“Do you have numbers for me?” she asked,
looking up at him.

“Yeah,” he answered, watching her.

City-girl released him to drop both hands to
her BlackBerry, where she began typing with her thumbs.

“Where are they?” she asked.

“In here,” he said, and tapped his
temple.

“I need them on paper.”

“Give ’em to you tomorrow.”

“I need them tonight, Jake,” she insisted. “I
have to do the figures.”

“They’ll be the same whether you do them
tonight or tomorrow.”

“Could you please at least stop by the office
and jot down a few things?”

“Sure. Be in at six,” he said.

Had her phone not rung, she would have
continued to pester him. He shook his head as Toni joined him and
they moved toward the trucks. The months it would take to finish
this project would certainly drag if the city-girl behind him
didn't learn to back off. He didn't leave the City to have it
follow him here.

It was a shame she was such an attractive
little package. Her green eyes were large, clear, and intelligent,
her body toned and shapely. She was confident and smart-- a
combination he liked.

And annoying as hell, a trait he didn't.

"Javier would've taken her over his knee by
now," Toni muttered. "You're the right choice for this one-- no one
else is as laid back as you. You spent time back east, you'll be
able to relate."

"No way, Toni. I don't want anything to do
with those types," Jake replied.

They climbed into Jake’s truck, and he rolled
down the windows. It was a warm, bright night, and he breathed
deeply.

"Why you think Mr. Howard chose this place
anyway?" Jake asked. "There's nothing for miles, and bringing in
water and electricity is going to cost a fortune."

"Worse, this is in the middle of Cortez's
drug route from Mexico," Toni said. "I can't imagine all that money
didn't get Mr. Howard an assessment of the area. Either he's an
idiot or he's too rich to care."

"I was thinking that, too. Cortez is all over
the newspapers anymore."

Jake's gaze went to the rearview mirror as he
thought of the city-girl in the trailer. He'd left a few men there
to continue cleaning up. If anything bad happened, they'd call
him.

"Did you hear that kid Eric say the guy they
had here before just disappeared?" Toni asked.

"Yeah, I heard. Not a good sign."

Toni grunted in agreement.
They rode the rest of the way into town in comfortable silence.
Jake dropped off Toni then returned to the large hacienda he shared
with his sisters and Javier. His uncle had tried to stay up late
and was dozing in his favorite worn recliner in the living room.
Jake whispered a
hello, tio
as he walked through the living room into the
kitchen. His sister Kitty had left him dinner in the oven with a
pink sticky note with a large frownie face on the oven's
handle.

Plucking the sticky free with a snort, he
turned on the oven and sat down to review his notes. He started to
estimate the damage then sat back.

No one in their right mind
would build a luxury resort
here.
He rubbed his face, understanding why his uncle
turned down the ludicrous contract over a year ago when it was
floated to every contractor in west Texas.

"It stinks," his uncle said in gravelly voice
as he entered the kitchen rubbing his eyes. "And I don't mean
Kitty's cooking."

"She's the best damn cook in Texas," Jake
said.

"And she knows it," Javier
said, sitting. "It's worse than it looks,
mi hijo
."

"You're right about
that,
tio,
" Jake
agreed. His gaze settled on the notes on his pad. He pictured the
building again then shook his head, the prospect of repairing it
overwhelming.

"We can back out."

"Whatever,
tio
," Jake
replied.

He looked at his uncle knowingly, well aware
Javier did nothing without a great deal of thought. Many folks
dismissed the large, pot-bellied Mexican, mistaking his dusty
boots, thick accent, and slow speech as signs he was either
uneducated or ignorant. Javier had built up the family's
construction empire from scratch over thirty years, squirreled away
every extra penny he earned from it, and used the money to send his
nephews and nieces to elite private schools and buy them all their
first houses. The rest he saved.

Jake didn't know how much his uncle had
hidden away, but he knew it was more than enough for Javier to
retire in luxury. Javier had no intention of retiring. Instead, he
remained actively involved in the construction projects.

"Why the hell did you agree?" Jake asked,
perplexed. He motioned to his notes. "This is a disaster. The
building needs to come down and start over, there's probably no
funding, it's in the middle of your dear cousin Carlos Cortez's
smuggling route … and the idiot they put in charge ... Damn."

"Instinct."

For once, he wanted his uncle to explain his
infamous instinct. There were many projects he’d had a lukewarm
feeling about that ended up as his uncle predicted-- successful.
Javier's instinct had never been wrong before, yet this project
already gave Jake a headache.