by Piper Rayne
“Hello,” the genteel Southern voice responded. “I’m Kayla. Would Scott still be there, by any chance?”
Not having expected the caller to be Kayla, Jillian gasped in surprise. She hadn’t even considered whether or not Kayla had her telephone number. Quickly regaining her composure, she said, “please hold. I’ll see if I can stop him before he drives off.” Laying the phone down, she rushed to the door, but found Scott gone. For a moment, she leaned against the door, shaken, vulnerable, completely exposed. Scott had never hidden the fact he was taken. She had just ignored it.
As she returned to her office and picked up the phone again, her eyes burned. “Hello,” she said, her voice husky with unshed tears.
“Hello, Scott, honey,” Kayla began.
Scott? Really? The octave of her voice hadn’t dropped so low that she could be mistaken for a man.
Jillian cleared her throat, composing herself enough to continue. “This isn’t Scott.”
“Oh!” Kayla said with a sultry laugh. “How embarrassing. I-I thought—”
“It’s all right. I had a frog in my throat. Scott has left for the day.”
“That’s okay. I’ll see him at home. But you never know how soon. He’ll probably have to brief his crew about what he wants done and that will take more of his time. Will you do me a favor, Jillian?”
“Yes, of course.”
“If, for any reason, Scott should call your place, tell him I allowed Mrs. Benson to leave early today, and Timmy and I have gone to a movie.” Kayla drew in a long-suffering sigh. “Tell him, also, that his dinner is on a plate in the oven. He’ll know. It’s in the same spot I always leave it.”
“I’ll relay that message to him.”
“Good. Thanks, Jillian. Have a good evening.”
Jillian sank into her desk chair, holding back her tears by sheer force of will. Kayla had sounded friendly enough. Still, Jillian didn’t like her. For no reason other than she had Scott.
She needed to get a grip on her fantasies. Scott would never be hers. She had been irresponsible, allowing herself to become so attracted to the man and contradicting her intentions. Especially after the Douglas fiasco. Her plans were never to become involved again. Here she was, yearning for an involvement with Scott. A man who was involved with someone else. With Kayla.
“Hello, honey.”
The words echoed in Jillian’s head and she chuckled nastily. She had a right to dislike the woman. She was trampling on her dream! And she’d sounded so smug and possessive.
Before the blahs overtook her, Jillian decided to make herself busy. Resolute, she stood from her seat. She hadn’t allowed depression to overtake her when she’d become estranged from her parents or when Douglas absconded with her money. She certainly wouldn’t be overcome with the blues over a married man. She tsked. “How ridiculous,” she murmured, and, stiffening her spine, trounced into the kitchen
Scott couldn't get to his truck fast enough. His arousal pressed against his denim shorts and he felt like a sex-crazed teenager. If he'd stood in that doorway one more second, he would have turned, crossed the length of the room, taken her into his arms. . .and made a complete fool of himself.
He threw his tools into the back of his van. Slamming the door, he opened the driver's side door and folded himself into the seat. Glancing one last time at the Breakfast Nook, he strained his neck for a glimpse of Jillian. He saw her turn abruptly from the door, seemingly in a rush, so he turned the key in the ignition, flipped the gear into drive and sped away.
Jillian obviously wasn't the type to have a brief fling, but neither did she seem interested in him. For the entire week since he'd taken her to the Poydras Center, he'd mostly kept his distance, hoping she would grace him with her presence. But she hadn't, until he'd insisted she ride with him to test her car. Otherwise, she did everything possible to stay away from him. Chores kept her busy most of the day, but she wouldn't even sit and have lunch with him. He had to eat alone in the kitchen. Twice, Rave came to cook lunch for the guests, but Scott still felt like an outsider.
* * *
Telling himself the weekend would give him a much-needed respite from Jillian's seductive presence, he braked the car at the red light on South Claiborne Avenue. It would also give him the chance to put the final touches on the proposal for the contract in Memphis, a deal all but sealed.
Yet the disappointment Jillian hadn't wanted him to stay with her tonight to give her a hand couldn't be denied and slightly quelled his anticipation for doing the important paperwork. Neither could he deny he had a very long weekend facing him until Monday when he saw Jillian again.
"Tell him to order the cabinets from Italy, Jilly."
"Yeah, right, Rave!"
Marley's laughter tinkled the air. "Where's she supposed to get the money for that?"
The three of them stood in the kitchen of the Breakfast Nook. One hour had gone by since Kayla’s phone call. But Jillian had to pull herself out of her befuddlement to attend her guests, so she'd rushed to the phone, called to check on Lucy, but couldn't reach her. Slamming the phone back on the receiver and wondering what to do, she called Marley and shouted one word into the receiver, "Help!"
Within a half-hour, Marley arrived with her and Howard's seven-month-old son in tow. A little while after that, Rave arrived, carrying his make-up case and evening's attire. Since he didn't have to be at his gig until midnight, he came over to help out when he didn't see Lucy's car.
Now, with the baby asleep in his playpen in Jillian's living quarters, she stood with Rave and Marley cleaning lettuce and talking about Scott, a subject she wasn't quite sure how they got on.
"Well, Marley, tell me how else is she supposed to keep him here when he's working so fast?"
"Why would I want to keep him here?"
* * *
Rave rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Jilly, girl, please! Why wouldn't you want to keep him here? He seems your type, and anyone who knows you can see how smitten—"
Marley's pinch and warning look interrupted him. She patted Jillian's arm, then brushed off the small piece of lettuce left there. "Did I comment on how nice the kitchen looks?"
"Not really," Jillian mumbled, glaring at Rave. He gave her an unrepentant shrug. "I'm really thrilled at how it’s turning out."
"Scott Martin is doing a wonderful job," Marley said. "He sounds like a nice guy."
"See?" Rave inserted. "Now maybe you'll listen to me."
"Hush, Rave," Marley scolded, using the tone she chastised her kids with. "Is he married?"
Stalking away from the counter, Jillian went to the double-sided sink and sat the colander in with a firm thunk. "Marley, please! Not you too. After what Douglas did to me I'll never trust another man again!"
"Is he married?" Marley repeated in slow tones.
"I won't have either one of you playing matchmaker for me. You got that, Marley Gibson?” At Marley's nod, Jillian turned to Rave. "Raveno?"
"Anything you say, honey," Rave said sweetly.
"Sure, Jilly," Marley agreed. She looked at Rave and winked. "Is he cute?"
Jillian leaned against the counter. "Gorgeous," she said with a huge sigh. "And yes, he is married."
"The heck you say!" Rave shouted, coming to stand next to her and dumping his shredded lettuce on top of hers. "Who told you that lie?"
"No one," Jillian answered sharply. "Scott says he isn't married."
Following the same process as Rave, Marley combined her lettuce with the pile already in the sink and frowned at Jillian. "But you don't believe him?"
* * *
"No."
"Well, does he act married?" Marley asked gently.
"How does one act married, Marley?"
"Let's see," Rave began, scratching his beard. "We don't give out our home phone numbers, unless we're stupid or crazy. We wear a wedding ring.” He fanned the finger in question beneath Jillian's nose, displaying the thick gold band proudly. "We talk about the wife, and leave a numb
er where we can be reached; we get phone calls from her at this number at least once a day reminding us to bring something home or drop something off. And we generally don't go around saying we're not married when we are! Get a grip, Jillian Riley."
Jillian walked dejectedly to her table and sat down. Barely a month had passed since Douglas left her in a lurch. She certainly wasn't ready for another relationship, and her trust in men had been irreparably shaken. Scott, however, seemed somehow different. He said he wasn't married, yet he wore a wedding ring, which he claimed was his father’s. If the ring hadn’t been proof enough, he had talked about his wife. About Kayla, who had called there trying to reach Scott, with all the rights and possessiveness of a wife. Was Scott amongst the men who toyed with emotions for kicks? Like Douglas?
She didn't want to talk about it anymore. She didn't want Rave and Marley to see how battered her emotions felt, how confused she was.
Determined to change the subject and ignore her feelings about Scott, she stood. "We need to finish the meal. Dinner's for eight."
"That's two and a half hours away, Jilly."
Jillian nodded at Rave, wishing she hadn't told Scott to leave. But he had a family who needed him at home. "Guys, I can't say it enough. You're lifesavers," she said, going to the refrigerator.
"You can't keep this up," Marley said. "You can't run this place alone."
"Marley, don't tell her that," Rave snapped.
* * *
"Yeah, Marley, please don't say that," Jillian told her, the blast of cold air from the refrigerator hitting her full-force when she pulled the door opened. "I have to run this place. I can't shut it down. I'll lose everything and I refuse to let that happen."
"Besides, this is your dream," Rave said.
"Yes, it is," Jillian whispered. "And I'll not give up my dream that easily."
"I know," Marley responded with sympathy. "What about your parents?"
At Jillian's mutinous look, Marley smiled sheepishly.
"I'm sorry for bringing that up and I'm sorry for the way I sounded, but it's just so unfair."
"It certainly is. But unfair or not, I can't keep calling you two to bail me out every time I get into a tight spot.” Jillian found the bag of flour and sat it on the counter. “And I won’t call my parents. I refuse to.”
"Don't worry about it. I'll never let you down if I can help it. I had to bring Little Howie with me because there was no one to care for him on such short notice."
"Yeah, honey, and you know I love to cook," Rave inserted. "Besides, you didn't ask me to come over. I did so on my own."
"What about the girls, Marley?" Jillian asked. "Who's taking care of them?"
"They're at dancing school. Howard usually gets them on his way home. I left him a note telling him where I'll be."
* * *
She needed a job. With that thought pounding through her, Jillian loaded onions, tomatoes, bell peppers, and fresh parsley on the counter, then closed the refrigerator door. Afterward, she went to the cabinet nearest the stove and pulled out the olive oil. Visions of her refurbished kitchen danced in her head. Scott would finish his job and tell her goodbye. Suppose he was her soulmate and she was passing up the chance of a lifetime? Maybe Rave had the right idea. Maybe she should order her cabinets from Italy or some equally faraway place, to give her the chance to get to know Scott better.
"Why don't you call Howard and tell him to come over here to eat and feed the kids? That way, he needn't bother fixing them dinner."
"Nice gesture, Jill. But as you well know, the girls are rather rambunctious. I think you need as much stability as you can get at the moment," Marley said, just as the baby let out a wail. "Uh-oh."
"Stay there, honey," Rave said with a wave of his hand. "I'll see to him."
"Thanks," Marley said.
She had the utmost confidence in Rave because he had quieted both the girls and the baby on many occasions. As usual, within moments, Rave's baritone voice could be heard singing a lullaby.
"Exactly what is on the menu tonight, Jilly?"
"Shrimp Creole, garlic bread, green salad, or slice roast beast, steamed asparagus, parslied potatoes, and sliced grilled tomatoes."
"Okay, let's start with the roast beast. Hopefully, when it's done, it'll turn into roast beef. While I prepare that, you can clean the shrimp. Don't worry. We'll make it in time for dinner."
Fifteen minutes later, Rave returned to the kitchen and the three of them worked to the eleventh hour preparing the food, setting the two dining room tables, and seating the guests. After which, they waited on and served each of the sixteen people in attendance for the meal.
* * *
Lively chatter filled the room, coupled with relaxing music filtered in from speakers built into the wall. Candlelight cast a soft glow about the room and sweetened the scent of the fresh flowers in antique vases on the tables. At some point, Rave excused himself to start preparing for his gig, and Marley went to feed the baby, leaving Jillian alone to deal with her guests.
Pushing aside the thought to telephone Scott and ask him would he come and help her tomorrow, Jillian grimaced at her wayward thinking. She would never call and interrupt his time with his family.
With a sigh, she stood back and watched her guests enjoy themselves and the food her friends had labored over.
7
"Have a safe trip, Mr. and Mrs. Peters.” Scott slammed the trunk door down on the departing couple's Buick Regal.
Mrs. Peters pressed a bill into his palm and smiled around the wad of pink bubblegum in her mouth. "Thank you, young man. The service has been excellent. We'll be sure to tell our friends.” Blowing out a rubbery bubble and popping it, she held out a liver-spotted hand to Jillian. "Miss Riley, it's been a pleasure, child. This young man you hired is so polite. My gracious! But, until next time, goodbye to you both."
"Thank you, Mrs. Peters," Jillian responded. "Goodbye.”
She and Scott watched as Mr. Peters maneuvered the car into oncoming traffic.
A honk and a vicious shout told how irate the other driver was as he screeched to a halt. Mr. Peters stuck his hand out the window and waved to Jillian, either unaware or uncaring of his near accident.
"I'm glad I'm not on the road today," Jillian murmured. The car crept out of sight and she shivered.
"The young man you hired?" Scott mimicked with a smirk.
Jillian laughed, a sound Scott had waited the entire weekend to hear. He’d spent his weekend listening to Timmy praise Kayla. Scott had had no idea Timmy felt the way he did about her. Maybe Timmy’s feelings toward Kayla were growing because she kept gifting him with things. She’d come around again Saturday with more toys for him.
Scott smiled at Jillian. Their less-than-cordial parting wasn't mentioned, which suited him just fine. He didn't like arguing with her.
"Don't take offense," she said, starting for the house. "I did hire you, after all."
"Yeah, but as a contractor," Scott rebuffed, following her into the cool house. "Not as a porter, a cook, a maid, and a garage attendant."
"Are you complaining? You just got a tip for your efforts."
* * *
He would also get to stay around Jillian longer for his efforts. He had already been here an hour and he had yet to pick up a nail.
"How much did you get anyway?"
Scott spread the bill open. "A twenty-dollar bill. This job does have its rewards!” Such as the smile on Jillian's tempting mouth and the pleasure softening her expressive eyes. When he'd walked in this morning, she'd been nursing her disappointment at burning her scrambled eggs. Rave, nursing a hangover, had already seen to the guests, but Jillian insisted on doing her own breakfast, determined to master cooking. "When is Lucy coming back?"
Jillian blew out a frustrated sigh. "Lucy called me yesterday and told me she'd gotten a full-time job and won't be coming back. Three couples checked out this morning. Their rooms need cleaning because three more couples are due later today. But I hav
e to prepare the meals for the seven other couples still in residence."
With Lucy's resignation, Jillian's hope for getting outside employment disintegrated. She couldn't afford to hire someone to take care of the inn while she went to work.
Crooking his finger beneath her delicate chin, Scott searched her face. He wanted to ask her why she didn't hire additional help. Her business seemed to be thriving. But instead of saying anything, instead of walking away from her and going to the kitchen, he bent his head and brushed her lips with his own. He reminded himself they were in the foyer with the door stretched open for all the world and Rave to see. However, Scott's common sense and his reasoning fled at the feel of her.
* * *
Crushing her to him, he claimed her lips, exploring her warm recesses with a surprising urgency. Even more surprising was her tantalizing response to him as she closed her eyes. She wrapped her arms around his neck and matched every kiss he gave her. Her body curving into his own, she caressed his back, his shoulders, the sensitive spot at the nape of his neck. Her fingers left a trail of fire, of need, coursing through his blood.
Jillian lost herself in the wildness of the moment and the recklessness of the kiss. She responded to the raw passion Scott evoked within her. When she rubbed her fingertips against his stubbled cheek, the firm hair set off another whirl of sensations within her. Deepening the kiss, she sighed, her heart pounding. Scott's arousal pressed against her and her body responded with a need of its own.
"Scott, please," she whispered, throwing her head back as he trailed kisses down the column of her throat.
"Please, what?"
Jillian's eyes flew open. She pushed against him and Scott stopped, looked at her in surprise. His light brown eyes were liquid with desire and it took a moment before he seemed to realize her mood had changed from abandon to horror.
