Free The Surprise of His Life by Karen Keast Page A

here is a cup of coffee, which you didn't ask for, but which
you look as if you can use."
    Walker
glanced up at Lindsey's approach. It was Thursday afternoon, her third day of
work, and there was no denying that office efficiency had improved a hundred
times since that chaotic Monday. There was also no denying that, despite the
unrest he felt in her presence, an unrest he couldn't define or explain, he was
nonetheless glad she hadn't returned to London. Her energy, her spirit was
definitely habit-forming.
    "Thanks,"
he said, reaching for the cup she was offering him, but taking great pains not
to touch her. A part of him realized the strangeness of that. Why shouldn't he
touch her? He'd touched her a hundred times over the years. Another part of
him, however, just accepted the restraint as prudent.
    "Oh,
by the way, this is the last of the coffee," Lindsey said, thinking that
Walker looked decidedly appealing with his end-of-the-day appearance. His hair
had been mussed by busy fingers, while his cheeks and chin had darkened with
stubble. He'd loosened his tie, pink and black and a perfect match to his
pleated black slacks, giving him a roguish look. The look played havoc with her
senses, but then her senses had been taunted and teased by his proximity all
week.
    "Have
you checked in the cabinet above the sink?" Walker asked. "Gerri
usually keeps a spare can."
    In
way of an answer, Lindsey crossed the room and opened the cabinet door. She
stood on tiptoe, bringing her weight to the balls of her feet, which were encased
in simple, but stylish white heels. The white skirt she wore, which normally
struck her at midcalf, rose upward, allowing the hem of her slip to show.
    Walker
instantly spotted the delicate lace edging the undergarment. Like a siren, it
beckoned to him and, once it seized his attention, it wouldn't let go. He
stared at it, wondering how something as simple as silk and lace could be so
out-and-out powerful. But it was. In fact, it was so powerful that it conjured
up other images—images of lace-trimmed bras, images of skimpy, lace panties,
images that were startling and more than a little unsettling.
    "Yeah,
there's a... can." Lindsey faltered at the stark, starved look in Walker's
eyes, but before she could do more than wonder as to the why of it, it disappeared,
leaving her to think that she had imagined it, after all.
    Diverting
his gaze back to the papers on his desk, Walker said, in a tone crisper than
usual, "I need to talk to your dad. He's out on Platform Four. Will you
see if you can get him, please?"
    Telling
herself that wishful thinking did strange things to a person, Lindsey, via
ship-to-shore connection, contacted the rig and asked to speak to her father.
    "I
see," she said. "How long ago did he leave? Fine. No, no message.
We'll see him back here in the office. Yeah. Thanks." She hung up the
phone. "He's been gone about three hours."
    Walker
checked his watch. It was four o'clock—give or take a tired Thursday minute.
Even considering dropping the helicopter off at the airport, he should have
been back in the office by now.
    "Shouldn't
he be back by now?" Lindsey asked, echoing Walker's thoughts.
    Walker
shrugged. "He may have had an errand to run. He'll be here."
    He
wasn't there by five o'clock. Concerned, Lindsey called the airport. The
Gal-Tex helicopter had been logged in a little after three o'clock.
    "I don't
understand," she said. "Doesn't he usually come to the office when he
isn't out on the platforms?"
    "Yes
and no," Walker said, trying to downplay the incident. He was doing it not
only for Lindsey's sake, but for his own, as well. The truth was that Dean
usually was at the office when he wasn't on site. "Like I said, he
probably had an errand to run. He sometimes has to chase down parts." At
the worry that still shadowed Lindsey's eyes, Walker smiled and pointed her in
the direction of the door. "Go home. The day's over. Your dad's
okay."
    "If
you hear from him—" Lindsey