An unexpected match, p.1
An Unexpected Match, page 1
Table of Contents
Title Page
FREE DOWNLOAD
Copyright
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
FREE DOWNLOAD
AN UNEXPECTED MATCH
Making a Family Series, Book Two
Barbara McMahon
www.barbaramcmahon.com
FREE DOWNLOAD
Sign up for Barbara McMahon’s Reader’s Group, and receive a free copy of LOVE LETTERS. Plus, you'll receive all the latest news, book releases and fun giveaways!
See details at the end of the book.
An Unexpected Match
Copyright © 2024 Barbara McMahon
All Rights Reserved
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Artificial Intelligence (AI) was not used to create any part of this book.
NO AI TRAINING: Without in any way limiting the author’s exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.
Chapter One
“The thing is, Arden, I hear Brendan Ferguson is a by-the-book kind of guy.”
Arden Glover looked at her best friend and temporary roommate in surprise. Slowly buttoning her brocade vest, she shrugged.
“Then I’ll give him a by-the-book kind of interview.”
Patti hooted with laughter. “You? By the book?”
Arden grinned and studied her reflection in the mirror. This was the third outfit she’d tried on. If she didn’t decide soon, she’d be late for the interview and then it wouldn’t matter if it went by the book or not.
This would have to do. The dark blue skirt brushed the tops of her knees. The multicolored, jewel-tone brocade vest contrasted nicely. It was too hot to bother with a blouse. May had been warm all month and her legs were tanned enough to forego stockings.
Eyes twinkling, she glanced slyly at her friend.
“You doubt I can pull it off?”
“Somehow, I can’t imagine you as a follow-the-rules kind of person. Of course, you could be hiding that aspect from me. We’ve only known each other a few years.”
Patti grinned at her own joke.
Arden looked at her in mock surprise.
“I’m amazed you doubt me. I never speed when driving. I balance my checkbook every month, and I always look both ways before crossing the street. How much more follow-the-rules could I be?”
“You start work at four in the afternoon and don’t stop until four in the morning, then sleep all day. You eat pizza for breakfast and pancakes for dinner. And you keep your great-aunts out long past curfew. How’s that for starters?” Patti said.
“Curfew for women in their eighties is ridiculous. And it was only that one time. Besides, I like pizza anytime of the day. What should I do with my hair?”
Slipping on her sandals, Arden studied her hair. How should she fix that? The wild tangle of blond curls was the bane of her existence. All her life she’d longed for glossy straight dark hair. Of course, she’d also longed to be petite with an air of fragility, too. None of her wishes along those lines had come true. She believed she had accepted the fact that she was tall and slender with wild hair. But the old dreams sometimes surfaced. Today was one of those times.
“Wear it pulled back, with a bow that picks up the blue in the vest,” Patti suggested, stretching and sitting up on the edge of the bed. “Worn loose, you look about fifteen and he won’t think you’re old enough to watch his little girls. If you do anything elaborate, he’ll think you’re too sophisticated. I don’t know why you have to do this, anyway. You’re welcome to stay here. I’ve told you that a dozen times.”
Arden smiled at her friend.
“You’ve been a lifesaver. I don’t know where I would have gone when the aunts moved into that retirement home if I couldn’t have come here. But what works for the two of us while Doug is out on deployment won’t work when he gets home. You won’t want a third around and you know it.”
Patti’s husband was a submariner currently finishing a three-month cruise and scheduled to return before the first of June. Arden knew how much the newlyweds would want their own space. She was determined to find something by then that would allow her to move into a place of her own.
Patti blushed and shrugged, but stars filled her eyes. “I guess.”
“I know for sure Doug won’t want me here. If I get this job, it’ll solve all my worries. The ad mentioned a place to live. Combine that with the tidy salary offered and the kind of work I can do while I continue with school, it’s all absolutely perfect.”
“If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is. Besides, you’ll never make it. He’s a real rules-and-regulations kind of guy,” Patti warned.
“For heaven’s sake, Patti. Brendan Ferguson is a security expert. They’re the kings of spontaneity having to cover all contingencies. How by-the-rules can he be? My understanding of the breed is that they counter any attempts at security breaches, foil kidnappings of rich businessmen, think fast on their feet and still come out ahead. Doesn’t sound like he crosses every t and dots every I to me.”
Studying the effect of her hair, Arden nodded, clasping on a blue bow.
“I guess this will work.”
“You’ll knock him dead,” her friend said loyally.
“Oh, that’s great. I need him alive to hire me.”
Arden arrived at the high-rise office building for her interview well before her scheduled time. She refused to acknowledge the nervousness that plagued her as she stepped into the elevator. Instead, she concentrated on how best to make a good first impression. Patti had seen the discrete job posting on the bulletin board in the building’s coffee shop, and told Arden about it. Now she was about to meet the man who needed a nanny for his preschool daughters.
Stepping off the elevator a few moments later, she glanced around with interest. She’d never been in a high-security company before and was curious to see if she could spot any of the devices they probably used as a matter of course. They must have monitors, video cameras, laser beams everywhere.
Instead, she frowned at the austere reception area. She could detect nothing to differentiate it from any other office she’d been in, except for the bland paint, the blank walls with no art.
Color and lines and designs fascinated her. Maybe she ought to offer a few paintings to enhance the area.
She almost laughed at the image that produced. As if an expert hostage negotiator, an anti-infiltrating security engineer cared what she thought of the walls in his offices. For all she knew, he kept the walls bare for a reason.
It couldn’t have been a lack of money; his company‘s services were reported to be in high demand, despite costing a bundle. Patti had shared that information when telling her about the job posting.
The receptionist greeted Arden and immediately ushered her into an empty conference room.
“Mr. Ferguson will be right with you,” she said after offering Arden some coffee.
Arden declined the coffee and moved to sit in one of the chairs against the wall, leaving the chairs encircling the enormous oval table empty. The view from the windows faced east. Even though the Chesapeake Bay was blocks away, with a dozen other high-rise office buildings between, she looked in a vain hope to glimpse the water.
Two minutes later, a tall, dark-haired man strode in, carrying a folder. The air seemed suddenly charged. Arden blinked and tried a smile. Her heart began pounding.
“Arden Glover?” he asked, stopping just inside the door. “I’m Brendan Ferguson.”
He stood ramrod straight and topped her own five-feet-ten inches by a good half foot or more. His dark gray suit was superbly tailored, his pristine white shirt a crisp, clean contrast. The deep maroon tie gave the final fillip to power. He seemed to radiate energy.
She almost jumped up and snapped a salute. Gripping her purse, she resisted the urge, suspecting he might not find any humor in such an action.
“How do you do?” she replied, conscious of Patti’s advice.
His glance roamed quickly over her, then he dropped his gaze to the folder. Opening it as he walked slowly to the table, he scanned the page inside.
A lean, mean, fighting machine echoed in Arden’s mind as she watched him, her artist’s eye delighting in the lines and contrasts she saw. She could picture him as a pagan warrior. A fighter. Protector. Not wearing a suit, of course, but in leather, or animal skins, or little at all.
She suddenly itched to sketch the man. She’d pose him with a lance, or a sword, chest bare daring the enemy to do his worst, knowing he’d be victorious no matter what came his way.
The suit couldn’t hide the breadth of his shoulders, the long length of his legs. She glimpsed a well-toned form beneath his shirt when the suit jacket opened–rock-hard muscles she’d bet. Sculpting their shape, hiding nothing, she could bring his form to life in passionate detail.
The deep tan that darkened his skin went with the midnight black of his hair. Did he spend a good portion of his life outdoors? No office worker acquired such a dark hue. His eyes were gunmetal gray, cool and assessing. His lips were full, but held in a tight line.
What would soften them? Laughter, certainly. Passion?
What about when he kissed a woman, whispered sweet words of love in her ear?
Arden let her gaze dance over the strong contour before her. Deltoids, pecs and biceps were covered, but her imagination ran rampant. She bet they were toned and developed until she knew a quarter would bounce off if dropped. No, wait, that was for beds, tightly made beds that quarters bounced on.
Thinking of beds, she wondered what he’d look like in one stretched out beneath a light sheet. She suspected he eschewed clothing while sleeping. Was he tanned all over or only on his face? Would his chest be a lighter hue or that same rich teak? Did he sleep on his stomach or on his back? Did he sprawl over the entire bed or keep to one side?
Suddenly Arden realized the silence had gone on for quite some time. Too long. Raising her gaze in confusion, she saw he was staring at her. Had he said something? Asked her a question?
Read her mind?
Slowly, she tried a smile, but the flicker of heat deep inside startled her. Baffled her. What was going on? Just because he had a body that most men would envy, and every woman alive would drool over, was no reason for her to feel any specific attraction. She loved all forms of art.
And he could sure be considered a masterpiece, her mind whispered.
Her heart kicked hard against her chest.
Nerves. She really wanted this job.
Brendan Ferguson laid the folder on the conference table and leaned against the edge, crossing his arms across his chest, his gaze never wavering from her.
Her skin prickled, and her heart rate increased. Suddenly she felt deliciously feminine, as if in response to the call of a primal male.
Blinking, Arden drew in a sharp breath. She was here for a by-the-book interview, not to create fantasies about the man. She sat even straighter in her chair.
“You have a rather eclectic work history,” he said slowly. “Over the last seven years, you’ve had seven different jobs. Waitress, library aide, flower shop delivery person, day-care worker, lifeguard at the beach, a Merry Maid, whatever that is, and hospice work. Not one job lasted longer than eight months.”
Arden nodded.
“Nothing shows me you have training for childcare. And I need someone I can count on for longer than a few months.”
He flipped the folder closed as if ending the interview.
Panic flared. Arden stood and reached out her hand, not quite touching him, but coming close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. Recognizing a matching heat in her own, she dropped her arm and raised her chin. She couldn’t let the interview fizzle out like that.
“I can explain the eclectic work history. I’m working my way through college. In the past, I’ve had to get a job, work until I saved up enough money to attend a semester, then quit to go to school. When the money ran out, I’d get another job.”
“Which does not solve my problem. I want someone who will stay longer than a few months.”
“But that’s the wonderful thing about the position you’re offering. I can go to school at the same time I work if you’ll agree to letting your daughters spend a few hours a week in a great child-care facility at ODU. It’s set up for students to drop kids off while we’re in class. I thought that would be acceptable. It’d just be an hour or two a day, four days a week, and would give your girls structured playtime with other children.”
“ODU?”
“Old Dominion University right here in Norfolk. With the job you’re offering, I wouldn’t have to quit to attend another semester of school. I can attend classes and still watch your daughters. And I can assure you the child-care facility at the university is top-notch.”
She’d thought it through. It’d mean so much to her to keep going, not have to take time off to earn enough money for the next semester. If only he didn’t object. She’d be perfect for his children and the job would be perfect for her.”
He studied her through dispassionate eyes. His expression didn’t give a hint of his thoughts.
“What are you studying?” he asked.
“Graphic arts. I would study fine art, but there aren’t a lot of career opportunities unless an artist is really super. I’m good, but not super. But I can combine my love for color, lines, shapes, and texture in graphics and enjoy doing it almost as much. That field definitely offers more career opportunities once I get my degree and some more experience. And for recreation, I still paint and sketch and work with pastels. So I indulge myself with both the practical side and the purely creative.”
Arden swallowed and smiled brightly. This wasn’t going as easily as she’d hoped. When he said nothing, she began again. She couldn’t lose this opportunity.
“As for experience, I know lots about kids.”
Raising her hand, she touched her index finger.
“First, from working at the restaurant, I know how children should and shouldn’t behave in public. What they like to eat and how to keep them entertained when they’re bored. Second,” she touched the next finger, “from working at the beach, I’ve seen lots of kids and understand safety rules and how to enforce them. I know CPR. I have a certificate in first aid.”
She smiled smugly. He’d probably appreciate that.
“And third,” she touched another finger, “working at the day-care center gave me hands-on experience. The ages ranged from two to six.”
He said nothing, just watched as she talked.
Taking another breath, Arden continued.
“At the library, I was the one to read for the children’s hour. So I know what kinds of books kids like, especially young ones. I believe your girls are five and three?”
He nodded, but remained silent.
Not used to so little feedback, Arden wondered if he was merely biding his time until she stopped talking to tell her the job was not for her. Or was he truly listening? What else could she add?
“Merry Maid was a housecleaning service, so I can teach them proper techniques to keep their rooms tidy,” she finished with triumph.
“I don’t want to hire a nanny only to have her leave in a few months when something better comes along,” he said slowly. “The girls’ mother is dead. They’ve already had to go through one bout of separation and grief. My sister has been watching them and now she’s leaving. Another bout of separation. I don’t want a third soon.”
He stood and picked up the folder.
“I’m looking for an older woman who would offer stability and reliability. And who won’t go off with no notice the first time something goes wrong, or some man comes along and sweeps her off her feet.”
“Older women can be swept off their feet, too,” she countered swiftly. “And I don’t plan to get married, so there’s no worry there. Not that I’m the type to get swept off my feet. I’m determined to get my degree, to find work in my field and make a name for myself. Ever since high school, that’s been my driving ambition.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Yet, you’re trying to hire on to do something that has nothing to do with your chosen career. You’d do better to get an internship with a graphic arts place or ad agency. I expect meals to be on time, a certain amount of care around the house, though I have a cleaning service that does the major work. And a lot of attention paid to my children.”
“I can do it.”
“There’s more to this job than just watching the girls. There are trips to the doctors and dentist. Shopping when they need new clothes.”
“If I can work and attend classes, I’ll graduate in another three semesters. I’d be willing to give you another six months after that. By then your younger daughter will be in kindergarten and you’ll have after-school care available for both.”
