When Tomorrow Comes Read Online Free PDF Page B

fog struck by the sun. The wine was sweet and delicious, and Cait felt its warmth spreading through her entire body. She fell back against the chair, her head tilted, her eyes meeting his golden gaze.
    A smile edged his mouth. “You don’t trust me, but then, I don’t blame you.”
    She managed a sour grimace. “Some people just don’t make good first impressions.” How vividly she remembered her powerful reaction to his weathered features and the grace of his hard, muscled body.
    Dominic gauged her in silence, his fingers lightly smoothing the edge of the purchase orders. “Despite my reputation and the last twenty-four hours, you’re still holding off on a final judgment?” Her brows rose in curiosity, and she met his eyes fearlessly. “Frankly, Señor Tobbar, I don’t know what to feel about you.” She was lying. She knew very well what she was feeling, but she quelled the hollow ache deep inside and motioned toward a pile of documents. “Because you’re right about supplies being delayed an inordinately long time. There’s no excuse for it that I can find so far.”
    He drained his cup and leaned back in the chair. For the first time Cait saw exhaustion in his face. It was evident in the slouch of his body and the lines furrowing his brow. So, she thought, he hid his tiredness just as much as she did. She was delighted. She was beginning to understand him.
    “How many hours have you put in today?” she asked.
    He snorted softly. “I should ask the same of you.”
    “It’s my job,” she retorted, keeping her voice even.
    “Mine, too.”
    Cait managed a sour grin, setting the half-empty cup back down on the desk and moving the stack of documents in front of them. “Well, you look as exhausted as I feel at this moment.”
    “On the contrary,” he said softly, “his voice a caress that made Cait tremble. “You look lovely.”
    She colored fiercely. “I look like hell and I feel like hell, so let’s let it go at that, shall we? In the meantime give me the benefit of your concern, and pick out which ones apply most seriously to the bridge-building effort.”
    Dominic straightened and dutifully began riffling through them. In a matter of minutes, he had sorted them. Cait closed her eyes for a moment, the letters blurring on the pink paper. Forcing herself to ignore the momentary cue that her body was ready to fold, she concentrated on each word.
    “Your crane sheaves.”
    “Yes, six months late.”
    She put the papers down, rubbing her face. She could feel the grit of Patagonian dust on her skin and had a wild urge to hurry back to her quarters and wash her skin free of the grime.
    Suddenly she found herself wanting to talk with him freely. Lifting her head, she found him watching her. She remembered the color of his eyes that afternoon when he had rounded on her in the print shack. They had turned a raw umber that reminded her of a black cloud laced with lightning. Gold meant that he was more relaxed and more cooperative. She would have to remember that small cue when dealing with him in the future.
    “So what’s the quickest way to get your sheaves?”
    “Get them in Bahia Blanca, from one of the many drilling suppliers. Then have them priority-freighted out here.”
    She rose a trifle unsteadily, dizziness washing over her, which she automatically forced away. “Okay, make up a purchase requisition and have it on my desk first thing tomorrow morning.”
    If she had said the sky was falling in, she didn’t think his reaction could be any more obvious. He rose, disbelief etched in the slackness of his square jaw. Again that unspoken tension began to swirl around her, and she pressed her lips together. “Well, what is it?” she demanded, angry.
    “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
    Cait sighed heavily. “Of course I am.”
    “Cirre is going to scream at the top of his skinny little lungs tomorrow when he finds out you’ve bypassed purchasing and bought materials outside his suppliers’