Rescued in a Wedding Dress by Cara Colter

would confirm what her heart insisted it had glimpsed in him when he had talked about hunger and hardship.
    That he was lonely. That never had a man needed a family more than he did.
    Stop it, she told herself. That was exactly the kind of thinking that got her into trouble, made her a pushover as Chuck had so generously pointed out from the beaches of Costa Rica, no doubt while sipping Margaritas paid for with her money! Molly took far too long the next morning choosing her outfit, but she knew she needed to look and feel every inch a professional, on even footing, in a position to command both respect and straight answers.
    She had to erase the message that the wedding dress had given. She had to be seen as a woman who knew her job, and was a capable and complete professional.
    The suit Molly chose was perfect—Calvin Klein, one-inch-above-the-knee black skirt, tailored matching jacket over a sexy hot-pink camisole. But somehow it wasn’t quite right, and she changed it.
    “You don’t have time for this,” she wailed, and yet somehow looking calm and confident when that was the last thing she was feeling seemed more important than ever.
    She ended up in a white blouse and a spring skirt—splashes of lime-green and lemon-yellow—that was decidedly flirty in its cut and movement. She undid an extra button on the blouse. Did it back up. Raced for the door.
    She undid the top button again as she walk-ran the short distance to work. She was going to need every advantage she could call into play to work with that man! It seemed only fair that she should keep him as off balance as he made her.
    Only as soon as she entered the office she could see they were not even playing in the same league when it came to the “off balance” department.
    The Second Chances office as she had always known it was no more.
    In its place was a construction zone. Sawhorses had been set up and a carpenter was measuring lengths of very expensive looking crown molding on them. One painter was putting down drop cloths, another was leaning on Tish the receptionist’s desk, making her blush. An official looking man with a clipboard was peering into filing cabinets making notes. A series of blueprint drawings were out on the floor.
    Molly had ordered herself to start differently today. To be a complete professional, no matter what.
    Bursting into tears didn’t seem to qualify!
    How could he do this? He had promised to give her a chance to show him where funding was needed! How could he be tearing down the office without consulting the people who worked there? Without asking them what they needed and wanted? Why had she thought, from a momentary glimpse of something in his eyes, that he had a soft side? That she could trust him? Wasn’t that the mistake she insisted on making over and over again?
    Worst of all, Prom Dreams was the first of her many projects being axed for lack of funding, and Houston Whitford was in a redecorating frenzy? There were four complete strangers hard at work in the outer office, all of whom would be getting paid, and probably astronomical amounts! Molly could hear the sounds of more workers, a circular saw screaming in a back room.
    Calm and control, Molly ordered herself. She curled her hands in her skirt to remind herself why she had taken such care choosing it. To appear a total professional.
    Storming his office screaming could not possibly accomplish that. Not possibly.
    Instead, she slid under an open ladder—defying the bad luck that could bring—and went through the doorof her own office. Molly needed to gather her wits and hopefully to delay that temper—the unfortunate but well-deserved legacy she shared with other redheads—from progressing to a boil.
    But try as she might, she could not stop the thoughts. Office renovation? Instead of Prom Dreams?
    Houston Whitford had insinuated there was no money, not that he was reallocating the funds they had. She needed to gather herself, to figure out how to deal