Make-Believe Beau

The Courtship Charade

As a draftswoman in a man’s world, Jessica Sinclair causes a stir as her new male colleagues vie for her attention. And the company manager has an ultimatum: fake a courtship with her boss, Flynt Kavanaugh…or lose her job. But pretending to be smitten with the handsome engineer unleashes a real, complicated attraction—and could reveal the past she hoped to keep hidden.

Jessica is certainly the best person for the job. But as their make-believe romance escalates, Flynt knows that’s not the only reason he wants her on his team. However, with his past shrouded by a shameful secret, Flynt has always focused his ambitions on building a career, not a family. Now he has designs on Jessica’s heart, but can they trust each other with the truth?

“You’re not going to kiss me, are you?”

The idea appealed to him more than he cared to admit. “Not unless it’s necessary, but if I look like I’m thinking about it, Mrs. Monroe is sure to draw the conclusions we want her to.”

“That makes sense.” She moistened those enticing lips, a gesture that made keeping his mind on the conversation increasingly difficult. “I should be going.”

And yet she stood gazing at him. The lantern in the parlor didn’t cast enough light for him to make out her expression, but she gripped his hands firmly, as though she didn’t want to let go. Or was he the one holding her tightly?

He released her, stepped back to a gentlemanly distance and doffed his hat.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes. Tomorrow.”

He bounded down the steps, expecting to hear the door open and close behind him. He’d reached the street, and yet Jessie hadn’t moved. She stood staring into the darkness with her fingertips pressed to her lips, unmoving.

Award-winning author KELI GWYN, a native Californian, transports readers to the early days of the Golden State. She and her husband live in the heart of California’s Gold Country. Her favorite places to visit are her fictional worlds, historical museums and other Gold Rush–era towns. Keli loves hearing from readers and invites you to visit her Victorian-style cyberhome at keligwyn.com, where you’ll find her contact information.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Remember not the sins of

my youth, nor my transgressions:

according to thy mercy

remember thou me

for thy goodness’ sake, O Lord.

—Psalms 25:7

Acknowledgments

Writing is said to be a solitary endeavor, but that is not the case for me. The following people have made valuable contributions to this story, and I greatly appreciate each of them.

My savvy editor, Emily Rodmell, helps me smooth the rough edges of my stories and polish them until they shine.

My agent, Rachelle Gardner, brings her vast publishing experience to play, but she also encourages and supports me along the way.

My writing partners, Anne and Adri, offer valuable input at the earliest stages of a story and enable me to send the cleanest drafts possible to my editor.

My husband, Carl, brainstorms my stories with me and gives me the male perspective.

My mother, Patricia Lannon, a former draftswoman, educated me on her chosen profession and enlightened me on the challenges of being a woman working in a male-dominated field.

My friend Bob Courtemanche, a retired physics teacher who has explored the El Dorado Canal up close and personal, gave me a clearer picture of our water supply system and bolstered my knowledge of fluid dynamics.

My friend Rachael Duke, an accomplished equestrian, answered numerous technical questions regarding horses and horsemanship.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

INtroduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Acknowledgments

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

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Dear Reader

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Placerville, California

June 1874

“I understand your reservations about hiring a draftswoman, but I’ve seen Miss Sinclair’s work, and it’s exemplary.”

Flynt Kavanaugh leaned back in his chair and studied Carter Corbin, seated opposite him behind the expansive desk. His boss’s scowl was so pronounced that his bushy gray eyebrows appeared as one.

“So you’ve said.” Corby, as everyone called the shrewd manager, folded his arms over his ample midsection. His features relaxed. An encouraging sign. “While I don’t cotton to having a woman join the team, when an engineer of your caliber says the lady in question is worth considering, the least I can do is interview her.”

Corby rummaged in his jacket’s breast pocket and produced a silver cigar case. “Don’t get your hopes up, though, son. An impressive portfolio is one thing. Producing quality drawings with the speed we require is another.”

Flynt shrugged off the cautious man’s concerns. Corby might not be quick to embrace change, but he was fair.

Once his boss saw Jessica Sinclair’s drawings, he’d have no choice but to admit she was the best person for the job. If everything Bishop had said was true, Miss Sinclair would have no trouble creating plenty more drawings on par with those he’d sent along with his glowing recommendation. The exacting engineer wasn’t one to exaggerate.

Corby opened his cigar case, releasing the pungent aroma of expensive tobacco, and offered Flynt one of the Cuban cigars. “Help yourself.”

“No, thanks. I don’t smoke.” He didn’t drink, either. Unlike the majority of men working on the El Dorado Canal, he refused to set foot in a saloon, although there were a number of them in town. He’d seen too many lives destroyed by a fondness for liquor and loose living.

Corby selected a cigar and slipped the sterling silver case back into his breast pocket. “You’re a fine leader, Flynt, but it’s possible you’ve shown a lapse in judgment this time. Having a woman around could complicate things.”

“Perhaps, but if she possesses the necessary skills, we’d be foolish to overlook her simply because she wears skirts. Kurt does a fine job as lead draftsman, but he lacks the mathematical prowess for the more complicated drawings.” Flynt needed someone who could take his ideas, perform the required calculations and produce conceptual drawings on occasion, but designing draftsmen were a rarity. That was why he’d invited Miss Sinclair up to Placerville for the interview.

The clip of boot heels interrupted his thoughts. “That must be her.” He jumped to his feet and rushed into the hallway, eager to meet the woman behind the drawings for the first time.

At the sight of Miss Sinclair, his heart broke into a gallop. Bishop had said she was comely, but that was an understatement. Striking would be a more apt description. The rich auburn locks visible beneath her simple bonnet gleamed in the sunlight streaming through the window. Her light-brown outfit was as unremarkable as her hat. It appeared she didn’t go in for the frills many women did. Even so, she would turn any man’s head.

But not his. He had no time for romantic pursuits. His career required his utmost attention. He would treat Miss Sinclair like any other member of his team.

She reached him and stated her business without hesitation. “Good morning. I’m here for my interview.”

He swallowed to moisten his throat, which had become dry. “I, um, figured you were.”

“To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?”

He gazed into the greenest eyes he’d ever seen. They glittered like emeralds, an intriguing sight. If a man looked into them too long, he might say just about anything. “I’m Flynt Kavanaugh, the engineer. Mr. Corbin, or Corby, as we all call him, is the manager. He’s inside.” Flynt tilted his head toward the office to his left.

The self-assured woman stood so close he got a whiff of her perfume. She smelled like spring. An image of picnics among wildflowers came to mind.

“I’m Jessica Sinclair.” She held out her hand, and he shook it. “I look forward to working with you, Mr. Kavanaugh.”

“Whether you will or not remains to be seen. You must complete the interview and land the job first.” He hoped she would, but she’d have to prove herself worthy of the position—and overcome Corby’s reluctance.

She gripped the strap of the cylindrical leather drawing case slung over her shoulder and studied him intently. One perfectly arched eyebrow rose, and her mouth quirked in a quizzical smile he found strangely appealing. “I see.”

“What exactly do you see?”

“A man who feels threatened by an intelligent woman invading his world, which I find odd. I was told you welcomed my application.”

The woman’s confidence could serve her well. “I do. I’ve heard enough to understand you can handle the job. Corby, on the other hand, needs convincing.”

“Oh.” She blinked several times, drawing attention to her long lashes. “Forgive me, Mr. Kavanaugh. I’m not used to a man as open-minded as you are.”

Her willingness to admit her mistake and follow it with a sincere compliment spoke to her character. “Please, call me Flynt.”

“Flint. Like the stone, I presume? A hard edge and useful when one wants to create sparks?” Her lovely lips twitched, as though she was stifling a laugh.

He drew his gaze from the captivating sight. “It’s Flynt. With a Y.”

She smiled once again, but this smile was as warm as the June day. “Well, Flynt with a Y, it’s clear working with you will be full of surprises.”

“Likewise, I’m sure.” Miss Sinclair had spice. Unlike most women he knew, she spoke her mind. There would be no simpering behind fans for her, which was refreshing. He’d witnessed more coquetry in his early days than he cared to remember.

“Since you seem to prefer informality, you may call me Jessie.”

A lovely name for a lovely lady. “Very well. I’ll introduce you to Corby now.” He was tempted to warn her not to be intimidated by Corby’s gruffness, but it was clear Jessie could handle herself.

Flynt made short work of the introductions. He and Jessie settled into the chairs in front of Corby’s desk.

The older man tugged at the ends of his heavily waxed handlebar mustache. “Why should I hire you, Miss Sinclair? Having a woman around is sure to stir up trouble.”

“Because I can do the job and do it well. Here. Let me show you.” She reached for the drawing case she’d propped against her chair, unfastened the buckle and withdrew the contents, which she held out to Corby. “I believe my work will speak for itself.”

Corby’s eyes widened and then narrowed. “You’re rather presumptuous, young lady.”

Flynt fought the urge to intervene. He wouldn’t do that for a man, so he couldn’t do that for her. If Jessie was to work here, she’d have to learn to deal with Corby’s brashness.

Jessie lifted her chin and leveled her gaze at Corby, her green eyes flashing. “You haven’t even looked at my drawings, sir, and yet it appears you’ve made up your mind to find fault with me simply because I’m a woman. I’d like to think you’ll give me the same consideration you would any other prospective employee.”

“All right. Show me.” Corby pointed to the rectangular conference table along the far wall of his office.

The forthright woman marched to the table and spread the stack of drawings on the tabletop, holding them down to keep them from curling. Corby stood beside her, his focus on the topmost sheet. Although he wasn’t an engineer, he did have some drafting experience. Hopefully enough to know what he was looking at. Even if he couldn’t follow the math, he could judge the quality of the drawings.

Flynt leaned back against the table with his arms and ankles crossed, watching the proceedings with interest. He’d learned about Jessie during an unexpected encounter with Bishop. Impressed by the drawings his friend had sent up prior to the interview, Flynt had sung her praises to Corby. He could do no more. Please, Lord, let her overcome Corby’s objections.

Any designing draftsman would do, but Flynt wanted Jessie. He hadn’t felt so strongly about a potential employee before, but he needed someone with her skills. Plus, Corby’s unfounded prejudice against her grated on Flynt. She deserved the opportunity to prove herself worthy of the position.

Although her work was exceptional, his desire to hire her was reinforced by his growing respect for the bright woman with a backbone of steel. It had nothing to do with her arresting good looks or her radiant smile. Nothing at all.

* * *

Only by tapping into her self-control was Jessie able to resist the urge to increase the distance between her and Mr. Corbin. The man’s overbearing manner rankled. What was worse was the scent of tobacco smoke that clung to him, bringing back memories of her days singing at the High Stakes Saloon.

No. She wouldn’t think about the past. She had a promising future, provided she secured this position at the El Dorado Water and Deep Gravel Mining Company. When her previous drafting job at a small irrigation company had come to an end, she’d set her sights on getting a more prestigious one. If that meant enduring yet another man’s scrutiny and proving herself capable in his eyes, so be it. She’d done it before, and she could do it again. “Are you finished with this one, sir? I do have three more drawings for you to look at.”

Mr. Corbin cleared his throat. “I’ll let you know when I’ve seen enough.”

She caught Flynt’s eye. He winked. At her. Not in a flirtatious manner, but all the same, his encouraging gesture surprised her. She preferred to keep things with her colleagues professional. Never would she let a man guess she was anything but a proper lady.

Which she was. Although she’d spent two years as a singer in Ace’s establishment, she wasn’t like the other girls. Miss Maggie might have taught her how to flirt, a lesson she’d learned well, but when Ace offered her the position, she’d made him promise that no man would be permitted to lay a hand on her. And none had. Not even Ace.

“Show me the next one,” Mr. Corbin barked.

“Certainly, sir.” She flipped to the second of the four drawings.

With the prickly manager occupied and Flynt, who stood beside him, focused on her work, as well, she was free to cast sidelong glances at the intriguing engineer. What an arresting profile he had, with his broad forehead and chiseled jawline.

A thick lock of his copper-colored hair had fallen across his forehead. She rarely encountered a red-haired man, although she was partial to the color. Others had teased her about her auburn tresses, but she counted them a blessing. After all, her red hair was what had kept her from going hungry.

That and her green eyes. Men did like looking into them. Flynt had. If he knew he’d been staring at her, wide-eyed, when he’d first seen her, he would probably cringe. For some reason, knowing he’d been enthralled tickled her.

While she didn’t set out to use her physical appearance to her advantage, a woman did enjoy appreciative glances. The Lord deserved all the credit as her Creator, but she got to enjoy the admiration His handiwork brought about.

Jessie’s shoulders were protesting by the time Mr. Corbin completed his examination. She heaved a grateful sigh, put the drawings back in her case and returned to the utilitarian bentwood chair she’d occupied earlier.

The portly man plopped into his large leather wingback chair, reached for a cigar lying on his desk and passed it under his nose, inhaling audibly. He’d spent the last five minutes doing nothing but grunting every now and then. If he didn’t say something soon, she’d—

“So, what do you think, Corby?” Flynt, seated beside her once again, leaned forward. “Her work is exceptional, isn’t it?”

She hadn’t expected Flynt to be so supportive, but he was acting as her advocate. And what had she done? Made a fool of herself, that was what. She’d come right out and accused him of feeling threatened by her, which clearly he wasn’t. At least she’d realized her mistake promptly. In a gentlemanly fashion, he’d accepted her apology and seemed to harbor her no ill will.

“What do I think?” Mr. Corbin’s question jolted her back to the present. “I’ve seen enough to warrant a trial.” He shifted his focus from Flynt to her. “I’d like you to complete a drawing for us, Miss Sinclair. I want to see what you can do when the pressure’s on.”

“That’s understandable. I’ll do whatever you’d like.”

The skeptical manager pinned her with an intense gaze. “I’m willing to let you finish the interview process since Flynt has vouched for you, but I believe having a woman working here could invite trouble. What do you think the men will do when you walk in there?” He inclined his head toward a large drafting room visible through the office’s side window. “They’ll take their eyes off their boards and clap them on you, that’s what.”

She pasted on her most reassuring smile. “You needn’t concern yourself with that. I’ve had plenty of experience dealing with men’s stares and attitudes.” More than he could possibly imagine. “I can handle myself.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about. It’s the deadlines we have to meet. The directors want to see progress. I can’t afford any slowdowns.”

Flynt intervened once again. “You’re right, Corby. Having a woman on the team will change things, but change can bring about improvements.”

While she appreciated Flynt’s support, the man himself was a puzzle. One minute he addressed her as a business associate, and the next his gaze roved over her with what she could only describe as attraction. Or was it simply admiration? Yes, that must be it.

Silence hung in the air until Flynt broke it. “My men are likely to work harder to impress Jessie.”

Corby scoffed. “I reckon the fellows will be more interested in her than they are in their work. Mark my words. They’ll produce fewer drawings because of her. Not more.” He shifted his attention to Jessie. “Why did you become a draftsman—draftswoman, anyhow? It’s not...normal.”

She’d fielded that question more times than she could count. “Few men are willing to believe a woman desires to do anything other than bear children, fix meals and wash clothes. But we’re capable of more than that, although few of us are given the opportunity. Be that as it may, I have nothing but respect for the women who’ve chosen marriage and motherhood.”

With her questionable past, she couldn’t aspire to either, no matter how much the idea of being loved and loving someone in return appealed to her. “Because I have neither a husband nor children, I’m forced to provide for myself, just as you are. I have an affinity for arithmetic and have found a profession that utilizes my skills. I happen to enjoy it, too.”

Mr. Corbin scowled. “You’re not one of those suffragettes, are you?”

She chose her words carefully. “I don’t stand in protest lines, no, but I am sympathetic to the plight of women. Perhaps one day our voices will be heard. In the meantime, I’m content to do my job to the best of my ability.”

“Good. It sounds like you know your place.”

Jessie bit back a sharp retort. Traditionally minded men such as Mr. Corbin couldn’t be won over with mere words. She needed to show him what she could do. “I’m ready to move on to the next stage of the interview, sir.”

Mr. Corbin shook his head. If Jessie wasn’t mistaken, he was smiling, although with that enormous handlebar mustache hiding his upper lip, she couldn’t be sure. “You’re certainly eager, young lady. I’ll grant you that. Flynt can take you out and get you started on a drawing. He’ll oversee your work, but the final decision is mine.”

Jessie accompanied Flynt to the rectangular drafting room. Four identical drafting tables faced a bank of large windows on the west side of the room. Four heads turned toward her, curiosity evident in each face.

Flynt introduced her to his team, once again the professional engineer. “Gentlemen, this is Miss Jessica Sinclair. She’s going to complete a drawing for me.”

She smiled and nodded a greeting at each of the young men in turn. She received two answering smiles and two frowns.

A sandy-haired fellow at the drafting table farthest from her jumped off his stool and approached. “Welcome, Miss Sinclair. It’s not every day we welcome a fine lady like you into the Den.”

“The Den? Is that what you call your drawing office?”

“Yup. The mine over yonder is called Coon Hollow.” The draftsman, a fence post of a fellow who looked all of nineteen, inclined his head toward the windowless eastern wall. “Since raccoons spend a good part of their year holed up in dens like we do in our office, we fellows dubbed this the Den.”

“Well, I’m honored to be in your Den and am pleased to meet you, Mr....?”

“My name’s Rufus Rawlings, but everyone calls me Trace on account of I do nothing but tracings most of the time. Every now and then Flynt lets me draw something on my own, though.”

As the lone woman in a man’s world, she’d learned long ago to cultivate all the friendships she could. “I spent a year doing the same. Tracings are an essential contribution to any engineering firm. Without them, valuable information could be lost if an original were to get damaged.”

Trace turned to his colleagues with a mile-wide smile on his face. “Did you hear that, fellows? My tracings are ‘essential contributions.’”

The dour draftsman at the table beside Trace’s grumbled. “Just what we need. Trace all puffed up.”

“That’s enough, Arnold.” Flynt returned his attention to Trace. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, but those tracings won’t get done if you’re standing here talking.”

“Right, sir. I’ll get to work on my— What were they called again? Oh, yes. My ‘essential contributions.’” He grinned at Jessie and returned to his board.

“Come, Jessie.” Flynt held out a hand toward a magnificent drafting table at the front of the room, set apart from the others. “I’ll get you started.”

She followed, speaking in a low voice. “Trace is certainly enthusiastic, isn’t he?”

“I could give the lad more interesting assignments if he weren’t so slow and meticulous, but he lacks the confidence that comes with experience.” Flynt paused and pulled a sheet of paper from one of the drafting cabinets running down the center of the room.

“And yet you’ve kept him on?”

“I’m all for giving a man an opportunity to prove himself. Or a woman.” He sent her a sidelong glance—and a warm smile that transformed him from simply good-looking to delightfully handsome.

No. She mustn’t allow herself to notice such things. Her success depended on keeping a level head and doing exceptional work. In order to be accepted, she had to perform better and faster than the men in the office. At the same time, she couldn’t say or do anything that could be perceived as a threat to them and their positions. She often felt like she was teetering on a tightrope high above the earth, with her male colleagues below her hoping she would come crashing down.