Approaching the reception desk outside the executive offices of Skerritt and Crowe Financial Consultants, Caleb plastered on the professional smile he'd been practicing for the past week. "I'm here to see A. J. Merrick."

"Do you have an appointment, sir?" the older, gray-haired receptionist asked as he started toward the doors behind her desk.

"I'm Caleb Walker." He gave her a conspiratorial wink. "I believe Merrick is expecting me."

"Hold it right there, Mr. Walton," she said, rising to block his way.

"Walker." He frowned. Hadn't Merrick let the other employees know about his taking over as president of the firm?

The woman shrugged. "Walker, Walton, it doesn't matter what your name is. You're not going in there without an appointment."

Apparently, no one had bothered to inform this woman. "Tell you what —" he glanced at the nameplate on her desk " — Geneva. After I talk with your boss, I promise I'll come back and introduce myself."

"My boss is busy and doesn't want to be disturbed." Geneva pointed to a row of chairs lining the wall across the room. "If you'll have a seat, I'll see if I can work you in."

At six feet four inches tall, he towered over the woman by at least a foot, but she wasn't acting the least bit intimidated by it. From the look on her face, she was just as determined to keep him out of the office as he was determined he was going inside.

It was all he could do to keep a straight face. Geneva reminded him of a little banty hen his grandpa used to own — all bluff and ruffled feathers. And if her defiant expression was any indication, he had no doubt that he'd be sitting in the reception area until hell froze over before she picked up the phone and announced his arrival.

"There's no need to go to all that trouble, Geneva." Chuckling, he sidestepped the woman as he reached for the polished knob on the mahogany door with A. J.

Merrick engraved on a brass plaque. "Take my word for it, Merrick is going to want to meet with me right away."

"I'll call security," Geneva threatened, rushing over to the phone.

"You do that," Caleb said, nodding. "I'd like to meet with them, too."

"Oh, you will, buster," she promised, stabbing her finger at the phone's keypad.

Without waiting to see if Geneva reached the security desk, Caleb opened the door and stepped into the spacious office. His gaze immediately zeroed in on the young woman seated behind a huge walnut desk in front of a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows.

With her dark auburn hair pulled back in a bun tight enough to make his grandma Walker proud and a pair of oversize black plastic-framed glasses, she looked more like a headmistress at one of those hoity-toity private all-girl schools in Nashville than a modern corporate secretary. And if her disapproving expression was any indication, she was just as unyielding and strict about rules and protocol as one of those overly uptight teachers, too.

But as he sauntered over to stand in front of the desk, he thought he saw a hint of uncertainty about her — a vulnerability that, considering the image she was obviously trying to project, he hadn't expected. "Excuse me. I'm looking for A. J. Merrick."

"Do you have business here?" she asked, her voice cool enough to freeze ice.

Rising to her feet, she pushed her glasses up her pert little nose with a delicate hand, inadvertently drawing attention to her brilliant blue eyes — eyes that sent him a look that would have probably stopped a lesser man dead in his tracks. It didn't faze Caleb one damned bit. On the contrary. He wasn't sure why, but for some reason he found something quite intriguing about her intense blue gaze.

"I'm —"

"If you're looking for personnel, it's down the hall," she said, cutting him off before he had a chance to introduce himself. Pausing, she arched one perfectly shaped eyebrow. "Was Mrs. Wallace at her desk?"

The woman's no-nonsense tone couldn't quite mask the soft, melodic quality of her voice and had Caleb wondering why the sound seemed to bring every one of his male hormones to full alert. Wondering what the hell had gotten into him, he decided it had to be the fact that he hadn't been with a woman in the better part of a year. That alone was enough to make any normal, healthy adult male feel as though he was about to jump out of his own skin. It also made him overly conscious of every move a woman — any woman — made.

Satisfied that he'd come up with an explanation for his interest in the less-than-friendly secretary, he jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "As far as I know, Geneva's still out there." He chuckled. "Although I'm not real sure she didn't break one of her fingers punching in the number for security."

"Good."

"Good that she might have broken a finger? Or good that she was calling security?" he asked, grinning.

"I didn't mean —" Frowning, she stopped short and it was clear that for a split second, he'd thrown her off guard. "Good that she's summoning security, of course."

"Hey, lighten up. Life is too short to be so uptight." The woman rounded the end of the desk, her expression anything but welcoming. "I don't know who you think you are or why you're here, but you can't just walk in and —"

The sound of the door crashing against the wall stopped the young woman in midsentence.

"That's him."

Caleb glanced over his shoulder to see the receptionist charge into the office with a defiant glare. Two middle- aged, potbellied uniformed men followed close behind.

"I see you got hold of the security guards, Geneva." He glanced at his watch, then nodded his approval.

"Their response time wasn't bad, but I think we could work on improving it, don't you?"

Geneva managed to look down her nose at him despite the difference in their heights, then turned her attention to the woman with the remarkable baby blues. "I'm sorry, Ms. Merrick." She eyed Caleb like she didn't think his elevator went all the way to the top floor. "He wouldn't take no for an answer."

Caleb raised an eyebrow. This was A. J. Merrick? Interesting. She definitely wasn't what he'd expected. Emerald had led him to believe that Merrick was a stodgy old gent, not a twentysomething woman with incredible blue eyes.

As they stared at each other like opponents in a boxing ring, his neglected libido noticed that A. J. Merrick wasn't dressed like most women her age. Instead of her black suit caressing her body and showing off her assets, it hung from her small frame like an empty tow sack. But if her delicate hands, slender neck and what he could see of her long, perfectly shaped legs were any indication, he'd bet his grandpa's best coonhound she was hiding some pretty incredible curves inside all that baggy black linen.

"It's all right, Mrs. Wallace." Ms. Merrick treated Caleb to a triumphant smile that did strange things to his insides and made him feel as if the temperature in the room had suddenly gone up ten degrees. "I'm sure you'll understand that applying for a job now would be a waste of time for both of us." To the guards coming to stand on either side of him, she added, "Please show this gentleman to the parking lot."

"That's mighty unfriendly of you," Caleb said, shaking his head.

Allowing the men to demonstrate how they would handle the situation if he'd been a real threat, Caleb almost laughed out loud when they clumsily grabbed his arms and attempted to pull them behind his back. He immediately decided that they not only needed to work on their response time to a situation, but could both benefit from a refresher course in methods of restraint. If he'd been of a mind to, he could have broken their hold without doing much more than flexing his biceps.

"I'm not here to apply for a job." He smiled. "I already work here."

"Oh, really?" Ms. Merrick tilted her head curiously.

"Since I do the final interviews for all new employees, would you care to refresh my memory and tell me what your name is, when we hired you and just which area of Skerritt and Crowe you think you work in?"

"I got the job a week ago and I intend to work in the office next to yours." Chuckling, he decided he was going to enjoy sparring with A. J. Merrick. "The name is Walker. Caleb Walker."

He could tell from the widening of her baby blues behind those ridiculous glasses that his answers were not what she'd expected. But she quickly recovered her composure and motioned toward the two guards. "Mr. Norton, Mr. Clay, please release Mr. Walker immediately."

"But Ms. Merrick —"

"I said, let him go," she repeated. She lifted her stubborn little chin a notch. "Mr. Walker is the new president of Skerritt and Crowe."

From somewhere behind him, he heard Geneva gasp at the same time as the two guards dropped their hold on him.

"Sorry about that, Mr. Walker," one of the men said, clumsily trying to straighten Caleb's shirtsleeve.

Silence reigned for several tense seconds as Caleb and the woman in front of him stared at each other. In a lot of ways she reminded him of another woman and another time.

He took a deep breath. That had been a while back and he'd learned a lot in the few years since. He was no longer a naive farm boy with lofty dreams and a trusting heart. He was a grown man who'd learned his lessons well.

"If you'd give Ms. Merrick and me a few minutes, I'd surely appreciate it," he finally said as he continued to meet her intense gaze. When he heard the quiet click of the door being pulled shut behind the three, Caleb smiled. "What do you say we start over?" He stuck out his hand. "I'm Caleb Walker. It's nice to meet you, Ms. Merrick."