Seeing me staring at her feet she stuck her leg out to give me a better look.
“Do you like my sneaker heels?” she asked, her voice soft and cultured. “They were recommended to me by my friend Reese Witherspoon.”
I wasn’t sure who that was, but clearly I was supposed to be impressed. She took a step towards me, and I held up a hand to stop her.
“Those are not safe for a construction site.”
She gave me a pouting look that I was sure worked on a lot of people. I wasn’t a lot of people.
“But I wore these special for today.”
“I think there’s some mistake,” I said slowly, like maybe she wasn’t the sharpest tool in the box. “I’m not sure where you’re going, but no one lives here. We’re doing a renovation of this building.”
“I know,” she replied. “I’m here to help.”
“Help?” I asked incredulously, my eyes shooting back down to those ridiculous shoes.
“I’m Olivia Laurent,” she repeated. “My parole officer sent me here.”
That got my attention. This woman looked like she’d just flown up from summering in the Riviera. Everything about her screamed money, from her perfectly shaped brows to her expensive clothes to her shiny new Porsche. I must have heard her wrong.
“Parole officer?”
She gave me a look that was somewhere between impatient and imperious, and for some reason it made me feel hot.
“Can you direct me to the man in charge please? He’ll know what’s going on.”
“Iamthe man in charge,” I said firmly. “My name’s Sam Ralston, I’m the foreman on this job.”
She looked at me, really looked at me, for the first time, her eyes lingering first on my toolbelt and then on my breasts before returning to my face. She stuck out her hand and gave me a bright smile that I knew was fake despite the fact it was obviously practiced.
“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you Sam Ralston. So great to see a woman in charge.”
“Yeah, we’re everywhere now,” I said drily.
“You should have received an email about me. I’m your new helper for the next five weeks.”
Email? What email? Damn it, I really should check my email more often. I preferred working with tools, not computers.
I took her hand out of habit more than anything, then I inhaled sharply as our skin touched. Little zings of electricity ran up my arm from where our palms touched. I’d never had this reaction to anyone before, and I had a strong suspicion that Olivia felt it too because she was staring down at our hands with a tiny frown.
I had a bad feeling about this. People like Olivia Laurent didn’t normally show up in my life – and they definitely didn’t stay. I just needed to remember that.
Olivia
The woman in front of me looked… sturdy. That was the first word that came to my mind, but it didn’t do her justice. She was tall -- the same height as me with my three-inch heels, which put her at about five foot ten – with a slim waist, leanly muscled arms, and thick thighs. Her body would have looked almost masculine if not for the gentle curve of her hips or the generous breasts confined by what looked like a heavy-duty sports bra.
The jeans she was wearing hugged her legs without being too tight, a blue tank top with a work shirt over the top of it, and what my father would call ‘shit-kicking boots’. Her dark brown hair was plaited into two neat braids along either side of her head and tucked under a Seattle Mariners cap, and when I stepped closer I could see an array of freckles across her nose and cheekbones.
It was her eyes that caught my attention though, some combination of brown and green and gold that seemed to shift with the light. When our hands touched, her eyes shifted rapidly, offering a window into her emotions and telling me that she felt the same thing that I did.
I couldn’t clearly define it. Attraction, sure. But it felt like more. Like the way it felt when you ran into a good friend you hadn’t seen in a while, a sense of comfort and happiness to be reunited. Except I’d never met this woman before in my life.
“You’re here for the community service program?” she asked, drawing my attention back to the present moment.
I reached into my purse and pulled out the papers the parole officer had given me. “Yes, here are my papers.”
She took them from me, scanning the contents with a frown, then released a deep sigh as she handed them back to me.
