Free Perfect Partners by Jayne Ann Krentz

him that was ludicrous under the circumstances. He was the one who needed protection, Joel thought ruefully. As long as she owned Thornquist Gear, she was dangerous.
    Unfortunately that knowledge did not alter the surge of desire he felt whenever he was near her or the sense of possessiveness that was beginning to pulse just below the surface.
    In the past few days Joel had begun to realize that he was not only trying to keep a lot of firecrackers in the air, he was also trying to walk a tightrope.
    Maybe he should have gone to work for a circus instead of Thornquist Gear. Lately it was hard to distinguish between the two.
    Joel heard Letty's voice as soon as he opened the stairwell door and started toward the large conference room. Either she was talking to herself or there was someone else in the room with her.
    “That can't be right,” Letty called out. “Read that one again, Cal.”
    Cal Manford's voice droned in response. “‘Insert brace pole into section B of number three upright pole.’”
    “That's ridiculous. It doesn't fit. Are you sure?”
    “That's what it says, Ms. Thornquist.”
    “Who wrote that manual, anyway?”
    Cal hesitated, apparently thinking. “Someone in the manufacturing design division, I imagine.”
    Joel reached the doorway of the conference room and beheld a small scene of chaos. One of the new tents that had been manufactured to Thornquist specifications and carried the new Thornquist Gear Pack Up and Go label was in a state of partial erection.
    Not unlike his own condition these days, Joel thought. And for the same reason: Letty was in the vicinity.
    To be more accurate she was somewhere inside the precariously tilting tent. He could see one small, beautifully arched, nylon-clad foot peeping out from where the zippered door flapped open. A trim little ankle and a few inches of nicely curved leg were also visible.
    Cal Manford, the head of Marketing, stood nearby. He looked harried and useless with the instruction manual in his hand. He had taken off his jacket and was in his shirtsleeves.
    Manford was in his mid-fifties and sported a fringe of gray hair and a definite paunch. The paunch was the reason he was rarely seen without a jacket. Apparently the tension of trying to help Letty pitch a tent had overcome Cal's concern about the way his stomach hung out over his belt. Joel noticed there were damp stains under Manford's arms.
    Joel also noticed with a sense of irritation that Cal was staring at Letty's foot instead of the loose-leaf instruction manual.
    “Well,” Letty declared from inside the wavering tent, “if this is any example of how the rest of the manual is written, we'll just have to insist that the entire thing be revised. Nobody who was not already an expert could get one of these tents up in less than two hours. And even then I'm not sure it would stay up.”
    “I'll, uh, mention the problem to Mr. Blackstone, if you like,” Cal volunteered uneasily. He was still staring at Letty's foot and still unaware of Joel's presence. “He approved the new line of tents, himself.”
    “Never mind. I'll talk to him about it. In the meantime we might as well keep going. Read the next instruction.”
    Joel propped one shoulder against the frame of the door and folded his arms across his chest. “Forget the next instruction. You're going to have to start all over again. You haven't got the ridgepole in place.”
    There was a sudden commotion inside the tent. “What are you talking about? Is that you, Mr. Blackstone?”
    Joel had found her insistence on office formality humorous at first. Now it was getting to be irritating. “Right. It's me, Ms. Thornquist.”
    Cal Manford swung around, startled. Joel could have sworn he looked both relieved and disappointed. “I was just helping Ms. Thornquist field-test one of the new tents.”
    “So I see.” Joel eyed the listing tent. “I take it there's a problem with the instructions?”
    “You can say that again,” Letty called