It seemed they did. But everything had been a little out of whack ever since she’d returned to her hometown after an absence of almost ten years and found a McLaughlin in a position at Allman Industries that she never would have expected a McLaughlin to have. And then she’d been told she’d be working for him. That had certainly gone against the grain.
She’d grown up thinking of all McLaughlins as the elitist enemy, the rich people up on the hill, looking down their noses at the Allmans and their ilk. Yes, “ilk” had been a word she’d heard used about her family. She’d never been too clear on what it meant, but she did know it was a way of being condescending toward her kind. And she knew enough about some pretty unsavory incidents in the far past that had poisoned relations between the two clans—and probably always would.
Throughout her childhood, the Allmans had always been scrambling for pennies while the McLaughlins were happily buying up the entire town. There had been times when her family might even have skimmed the edges of the law just a bit here and there. But knowing that had only hardened the resentment she’d felt when others in this town whispered that the Allmans were a shiftless rabble always out for a fast buck.
And now, miraculously, the tables had turned. Her father, Jesse Allman, had somehow managed to make a go of a business, to the surprise of even his own children. In fact, his winery had grown so quickly, it was now the major employer in town. Not many people insulted him to his face these days but prejudices weren’t easy to overcome. She had a good idea what the folks of Chivaree really thought about her family.
And she thought she knew what Kurt McLaughlin’s true agenda was, since she’d found him happily ensconced in the management of her father’s company when she had returned. Of all people—why did it have to be him? She turned back to look at the man and found him on the intercom, trying to find help.
“Hello. Hello! We’re stuck in the elevator.”
They both listened for a long moment, but there was no answer. He turned and looked at her. “There’s no one in the utility room,” he said, frowning.
“Obviously,” she agreed, trying not to think about the fact that there was probably no one at all left in the building but the two of them. Mabel Norton would have headed for the parking lot the moment Kurt dashed off toward the elevator. And everyone else had gone long ago. Their only hope was to find a way to communicate to the outside world. “Isn’t there an alarm?”
“An alarm. Of course.” He reached for it, pulling the lever out. Nothing happened.
“Maybe you pulled it too slowly,” she said, starting to feel real apprehension seeping in. “Try it again. Give it a good jerk.”
He tried again then turned to her, the lever dangling from his fingers. “Oops,” he said.
She bit her lip and forced back the comment that would have been only natural at a time like this. “Well then,” she said carefully, avoiding his gaze. “Since neither of us seems to have a cell phone handy, I guess we’ll just have to wait.”
“Wait?” He ran a hand through his thick, auburn hair, staring at her as though he thought she might really know the answer. “Wait for what?”
“For someone to realize we’re missing.”
He turned away impatiently, then turned back and met her dark gaze with his own brilliant one. “Everyone’s gone home,” he said gruffly, as though he’d just realized that fact.
She gulped. He was right. They could be here for a long time. This was not good.
“We’re stuck here until someone tries to use the elevator and it doesn’t arrive,” he said, making the obvious deduction. “It’s just you and me, kid.”
In her wildest dreams, she’d never imagined a more unexpected scenario. She reached out to steady herself against the side railing. Suddenly the air seemed too thick, and his shoulders seemed too wide, looming in her way as they filled the elevator car. And in his well-tooled cowboy boots, he seemed even taller than his normally imposing height.
“This is your worst nightmare, isn’t it?” He appeared to be a mind reader among his other annoying talents, though he’d said it with a hint of amusement in his voice.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said primly, concentrating on the inspection certificate on the wall. The official-looking document claimed all was well with this horrible machine. The document was lying.
“Don’t you?” He laughed softly.
She risked a look at him and immediately regretted it. “Are you trying to tell me that you enjoy being stuck in an elevator?” she demanded.
He considered her question for a moment, one eyebrow raised. “That’s not as easy to answer as you might think,” he told her. “Circumstances could be the deciding factor. After all, if I was stuck with Willy from the mailroom, he’d whip out a deck of cards, and we’d be playing gin so hard we would forget about the time. Or if it was Bob from Accounting, he’d be telling me fascinating stories about his time in the Special Forces during Desert Storm. And Tiana from the art department might give me a demonstration of the new belly dancing classes she’s been taking.”
Jodie made a sound of impatience, hoping to keep him from going on with this. “Yes, but you’re not stuck with all those wonderful, interesting people. You’re stuck with me.”
“Yes, you.” His white teeth flashed in an impudent grin, and his gaze ran up and down the length of her, making her wish she hadn’t worn the snug, blue sweater and tight, denim skirt that showed off her figure with maybe just a bit too much flare. Then he challenged her teasingly. “So what are you good for?”
She wanted to turn and flounce off, but that was impossible under the circumstances. A flounce like that would land her smack up against the opposite wall. So she settled for trying to look bored with it all.
“Nothing, I guess,” she said, letting a tiny hint of sarcasm curdle her tone.
When he leaned his long, muscular body against the wall, her gaze was magnetically drawn to the sleek slacks molded tightly across his thighs.
“Come on, Jodie,” he said. “Don’t sell yourself short. The way I see it, you’re certainly good for a laugh.”
That startled her, and she looked at him quickly, ready to resent whatever he had to say. “What are you talking about?”
He shrugged. “Your stock in trade, of course. The McLaughlin-Allman feud. You carry it around on your shoulders as though it were still 1904, and I just stole your father’s favorite broodmare.”
She drew herself up. Now he was really treading on her territory. “It’s the Allman-McLaughlin feud,” she said, correcting him icily. “And I have no idea why you think it’s a factor in my life.”
“Oh, yes, you do.” His gaze hardened and he moved restlessly. “You’re one of the few, you know. Most around here have given up on it.”
“That’s what you think.” She wished she could recall the words the moment they left her lips. Because the trouble was, she was afraid what he’d said might be true. She did seem to be one of the few who remembered the feud. What had happened to it, anyway? When she’d lived here growing up, it pervaded life in this town like nothing else had.
“So that’s it, isn’t it?” he said. “That’s what’s had you treating me like someone you need to watch around the silverware. You just can’t get past the whole feud.”
She gave up all pretense. “Neither can any of us,” she said stoutly.
“That’s not true. Look at me.”
She didn’t want to look at him. Looking at him was likely to get her into a lot of trouble.