by Piper Rayne
Slamming the door shut, she ran away from him, heat staining her cheeks. Please what indeed! What was she thinking?
"Jillian!"
She refused to answer. Scott pounded across the floor behind her, his work boots banging against the hard wood.
"Jillian, wait a minute!" Scott called. "Dammit! I'm sorry. I was out of line. Do you want me to leave?"
Those words halted her at the door to her apartment. She faced him, looked into his eyes, and saw the regret of unsated desire, the confusion. He was showing himself to be a very kind, unselfish man. But how could she tell him how afraid she was? Or she knew he had lied about not being married. What kind of two-timing jerk was he? Knowing what she did, what kind of hussy was she? She couldn’t cast aspersions on Scott for doing the same thing she did. With her actions, she was helping him to betray his wife.
At this point, she was afraid of more than just her feelings. She was afraid for her business and didn’t need emotions complicating matters.
* * *
She couldn't even hire the help she needed because of the repairs she was having done. Howard had given her a reprieve on her mortgage, but she had other bills due just as important. More immediate, was the food and beverage deliveries. For all the work she was doing, she might still lose the Breakfast Nook. And for all of her denials to the contrary, she doubted Scott was married. Yet it made it easier for her not to have to deal with her emotions to believe he was. Just as it made it harder for her to accept she'd kissed him, while encouraging her belief of his wedded state.
"Do you want me to leave?"
"No, but there has to be an understanding between us," Jillian said, her voice hoarse with emotion. "We can't let that happen again."
"You're right," Scott agreed. "I promise it won't."
Feeling some modicum of control returning, Jillian searched for something to alleviate the awkward moment, but found nothing. However, Scott rescued her.
"I'm going out to my van for a couple of minutes. Then, if you don't mind, I'd like to help you with your chores."
"Thank you. I'd like that."
For twenty minutes, Scott sat in his van, cursing his impulsive act and still feeling the effects of having Jillian in his arms. She had made her disinterest quite clear. And even if she had been, he still wasn't. He would help her as much as he could, and maybe when there weren't as many currents crackling between them, he could ask her about why she didn't hire extra help. He understood her need for a time pay plan, but now he was beginning to wonder if her situation wasn't worse than she was willing to admit.
* * *
He remembered the twenty-dollar bill stuffed in his pocket, and smiled. He didn't want to keep the money. It wasn't his intent to receive such exorbitant tips from Jillian's guests, no matter how nice they found him. He only wanted to help Jillian. So how could he give the money to her without offending her? Or at the least let her enjoy some of it? An idea formed in his mind, and he smiled.
Besides, what he had in mind would be too much of a family affair. Wouldn't it?
For the next two days, Scott put aside his work to help Jillian with the inn and her guests. Together, they cleaned the rooms, cooked, and saw to the guests' comfort. Now, at almost one o'clock, they reached the kitchen where Jillian hurried to put on a pot of coffee. She forced away thoughts of his personal life and enjoyed him.
"You're my guest now. Have a seat and I'll serve you some coffee and cake."
Scott slid a chair from under the table and straddled it. "Scrumptious idea. And for such a nice gesture, how would you like to join me and Timmy for a snowball later on? I can afford it. I saved a certain big tip I received a couple of days ago."
Jillian smiled. "Thanks, Scott, but I can't. I don't think that would be appropriate."
"Sorry, Jillian," Scott put in, his eyes twinkling. "I won't take no for an answer. And who said it wasn't appropriate for an employee to buy his employer a snowball? I do it all the time for one employee."
After the kiss they had shared, a snowball should have been the least of her worries. "But, Scott—"
"It's not like I'm asking you for a date, Jillian," Scott said irritably. "I'm a nice guy and I can be trusted. Besides, if you have misgivings about me, Timmy will be along the whole time."
* * *
Pouring the coffee into two mugs, then cutting two slices of Rave's chocolate cake, she pulled out a chair and joined Scott at the table. All she wanted was her kitchen remodeled and her business saved. But Scott came with household skills that made her want to believe in mankind again—more to the point in men again. Was his invitation a subtle flirtatious expression? Or just an innocent act of kindness?
She took a sip of her coffee and watched out of the corner of her eye as Scott tasted the cake. Since she'd met him she'd barely had time to grieve over her shattered life. What harm could there be in accepting his offer, especially since Timmy would be there. Scott probably took the little boy along on many such occasions. But it would just be so family-like, and she would be the outsider, watching a man with his son and wondering about his wife.
"Well?" Scott asked impatiently. "Are you joining us?"
"Of course, I'll join you," Jillian finally said. For once, she would trust her instincts fully and not second-guess herself. "I just don't want to take any more time away from your work.” She tasted the cake, and lowered her eyes. "I know you're anxious to get to your next job."
"Actually, Jilly," Scott began.
Warmth curled around her insides. Rave and Marley called her Jilly all the time, but Scott made it sound as if he had exclusive use of the shortened name. She met his gaze and the uncertainty she found there gave her pause. It also made her listen more closely to the conversation.
"I've been thinking. If it's all right with you, I can work a few hours in the evenings after dinner is served, and from nine to twelve on Saturdays and Sundays. In which case, I can always give you a hand on weekday mornings."
A lump formed in Jillian's throat, and she took a hearty sip of coffee to swallow the emotion. Her eyes misted and she turned her head, not wanting Scott to see her cry.
* * *
She cleared her throat. "W-why are you doing this, Scott? You certainly have gone above and beyond the call of duty. You’ve neglected your own affairs for me. And the snowballs, I-I..."
Regarding her momentarily as her voice trailed off, Scott realized Jillian was fighting back tears. He sincerely wished he knew the story behind her courageous struggle to keep the inn afloat. Beyond his admiration for her determination, why did he feel the need to take time away from Timmy to help her? Because of the untimely and tragic demise of his parents he'd decided never to marry or have children, and he didn't want to lead Jillian on. But she appeared to reject any burgeoning feelings she might have for him, which left him relatively safe from any entanglements he didn't want. He would, however, continue to offer his assistance as long as she accepted it.
Immediately, Scott realized he was entering the danger zone. Jillian was so damned adorable he could hardly restrain himself from taking her into his arms again and kissing her senseless!
He finished his coffee, and took another bite of his cake. "Jillian, it's none of my affair, but it's pretty obvious you're in a bind and could use all the assistance you can get. It's certainly my pleasure to aid a lady in distress. So I'll have no more objections from you. As for our outing, you need some relaxation. Besides, I would never neglect my business affairs. I have very competent people working for me. And Kayla is super wonderful. I trust her implicitly."
Jillian forced a smile. "All right. I guess I've been bullied into going. Thanks for asking, Scott. I truly would be delighted to go. Um, by the way, Kayla called for you a few days ago,” Jillian said, as nonchalantly as possible, determined to keep her jealousy at bay. “I told her you had already left. I suppose, by now, you know what she wanted.”
“Sure do. Kay is a bright spot in my life, I don’t know what Timmy and
I would do without her.”
Jillian lowered her eyes. “We all manage somehow,” she said miserably.
Scott didn’t seem to notice. “Yeah, we pick up the pieces and manage somehow.”
The wistful sound in his voice caught Jillian’s attention and she regarded him with curiosity. Their gazes met. As if to will away some unseen fog, he shook his head. Suddenly, he smiled, his cheeriness back intact.
“Did I understand you to say you would be delighted to accompany Timmy and me to the park?”
“Yes.” Jillian’s confusion ran rampant at Scott’s behavior, her heart racing, her emotions wanting. “Yes,” she repeated. “I would be delighted.”
"Good. I thought I could get you to see things my way.” He went and poured himself more coffee, then returned to his seat. "When school lets out, we'll get Timmy, go to the park for an hour, and get some snowballs."
"I have the honeymoon couple who Rave recommended. They'll be coming in at six, Scott, so maybe we had better make it only half an hour."
Scott nodded. "I'm coming back this evening to take down some cabinets. Would you mind if I brought Timmy back here with us?"
"I'd expect it," Jillian said. "Since I'm cutting his time short with you."
* * *
"You're so understanding.”
Flashing her a devastating smile, Scott dug into the remainder of his chocolate cake. Jillian drew in a calming breath. It was all she could do to keep her heart inside its rightful place. Suddenly, she found herself wishing Scott would always be there for her, but as she watched him take his ring out of his pocket and slide it back onto his fingers, she knew that dream could never come true. He had Kayla. The bright spot in his life.
8
A warm breeze rustled the leaves on the verdant old oaks and flowering magnolia trees growing in abundance at the snowball stand located in City Park near Harrison Avenue and Marconi Drive. Scott watched from his place in the line as Jillian and Timmy played catch ball. Each time she threw the ball at his little brother, the black knit top she wore moved with her. When she positioned her body the way some famous pitchers in the league did, Scott's thoughts went where they had no business going. She wasn't interested, and he refused to waste time trying to change her mind, because he wasn't interested either. He had Timmy to think about. He shuddered to think what would have become of Timmy had he not been old enough to care for him.
The long line finally lessened and Scott dragged his gaze away from the sight of Jillian and Timmy, to place their order, nearly twenty-five minutes after they arrived.
* * *
"Three snowballs, please," he said to the dark-haired young man through the opened order counter. "One spearmint, one black cherry, and one orange."
Completing the sale, Scott gingerly took the treats and stepped out of the way so the next person could move to the window.
"Scott!” Timmy nearly knocked him over as he rushed up to him carrying the softball. "Jillian knows how to play catch as good as you, and she's only a girl!"
"Only a girl, am I?" Jillian said with laughter. "Who's been teaching you such chauvinist nonsense? Surely not your father?"
"Certainly not his father!" Scott said indignantly, balancing the cold snowballs. Jillian rescued him from possible disaster when she took first Timmy's orange-flavored snowball and handed it to him, then got her own black cherry one and took a big bite from it. "Son, you and I are going to have a little chat. Some girls know how to do almost everything men can do. Although some of them never learn to cook!” He winked at Timmy.
Her eyes danced and merriment flushed her pretty features as she playfully slapped his arm.
"That, Timmy, is so those girls don't become a slave to the kitchen, indulging their spouses' appetites."
Scott rolled his eyes, feigning disgust. "I'm sure Timmy understood that," he said as they started for the van.
"Well," Jillian began. She shrugged her dainty shoulders. "You can explain it to him when he's older."
"That should be an interesting lesson, Jill. A day I can't wait for.” They reached the vehicle and Scott opened the doors on the passenger side. "Okay gang, let's roll. Climb aboard, Timmy, and buckle up," he instructed. Timmy did as he was told and Scott closed the back door.
* * *
After Jillian secured herself in her seat, Scott closed her door, tempering the insane urge to haul her into his arms and kiss her, and ignoring how complete Jillian made him feel, both as a man and a caregiver to his little brother. He found himself amazed at how well Timmy had taken to Jillian, even more so than to Kayla. Kayla played ball with Timmy on occasion. But Kayla was just a good friend. He knew she would always be a friend to him and Timmy. However, he wished for something more with Jillian.
Since taking over the care of the child, he'd dated other women from time to time, but Timmy usually kept his distance—as did the women. The women he'd dated knew it wasn't going to be a lasting relationship with him. Maybe that was why they'd kept their distance from the child. Or maybe Scott had decided to back away because Timmy hadn't cottoned to them. Whatever the reason, he realized he hadn't thought twice about asking Jillian out and bringing Timmy along.
Finishing off his snowball with big bites, then throwing the container into the trash bin, Scott got into the driver's side and started the engine. Within minutes, they were cruising back to the inn.
Exhilaration lifted Jillian's spirits, awakened her senses, and made her ignore the ring on Scott's finger. For the moment, the weight of her problems at the inn was lifted from her shoulders, the mistrust she used to shield herself from any more hurt forgotten.
She hadn't played catch-ball in years and while Scott represented a continued threat to her peace of mind, Timmy served as a delightful bundle of energy. Jillian enjoyed this time with Scott and his son more than she thought she would. Contrary to her belief Timmy would resent her intrusion on his time with his father, or mind his mother wasn't there, it was just the opposite. He seemed to revel in the attention she gave him.
Jillian sidled a glance at Scott. If he wasn't married, who was Kayla? Scott made no secret of his fondness for her. Jillian’s dilemma would be solved, if only she had the courage to ask him.
Ask him what? Hadn’t he already told her he wasn’t married? What kind of prying idiot would he think she was if she asked him again about his personal affairs? He’d get the impression she wanted to make a play for him.
Don’t play, girl. You know you do.
Life was mysterious and wonderful, but so damn complicated. She was haunted by her disastrous affair with Douglas. As a result, she built up all kinds of roadblocks against any other meaningful relationship. She would have to stop pigeonholing every minute detail of Scott’s life. In spite of what she thought of his life.
Nevertheless, she wondered why he seemed to have no problem with the little boy calling him 'Scott' instead of dad.
* * *
Only Scott had the answers to her questions, but she doubted she would ever ask him. She had other things to concern herself with. Rave's friends, the honeymooners, would arrive this evening, and her produce and meat deliveries should be here by the time she returned. Monday she'd sent in a partial payment, which, she hoped, was enough to allow for this weekend's delivery.
Still deep in thought, she barely noticed when Scott turned off Carrollton Avenue and into the driveway. She strained her neck to see how many cars were there, but couldn't tell. The side of the house blocked her vision. She prayed the guests had maneuvered their cars successfully. Since Douglas's departure, she'd also taken on the job of parking attendant. The yellow-bellied reptile. If she ever saw him again...a myriad of ways to torture him crossed her mind.
"All right, guys," Scott said. "Everybody out. There's work to do."
Her heart swelling with gratitude to Scott for his help, Jillian exited the van, then waited for Timmy to get out. Taking his hand in hers and putting the backpack he handed to her on her shoulder, she went into
her living quarters.
"Timmy, I have a friend with kids, who comes over here every Saturday and Sunday, and I have lots of videos for them to see. Would you like to watch any?"
"Oh boy!" Timmy chimed. "Can I pick one myself?"
"May I," Scott said as he walked into the apartment. He frowned. "May you what?"
"Look at some videos, Scott," Timmy answered, his eyes alive with childish fervor, his lips still orange from his long-ago-devoured snowball.
"Scott," Jillian began, setting Timmy's school sack down. "Wait—"
"Sure you can, son," Scott interrupted. "Jillian and I don't want you bored while we're taking care of the folks at the inn."
"Thanks, Scott!" Timmy said, as he raced toward the inn. "I need to pee!"
* * *
"Slow down, pal," Scott called as the child disappeared from sight, scratching his head to cover his embarrassment at Timmy's manners. He smiled sheepishly at Jillian, the glare she gave him quite appropriate.
"Scott," Jillian said with reproach. She went to her sitting room where she kept her television. Three polished wooden shelves loaded with video tapes lined the almond-colored walls. "How could you?"
"What?" he asked, ignorant of his "crime". "What's going on, Jillian? What do you disapprove of now?"
She pulled down three Disney movies, her movements stilted with annoyance. "You!" she snapped. "I asked Timmy if he wanted to watch the tapes, but I hadn't intended to let him see any until after he did his schoolwork, assuming he had schoolwork."
Scott's jaw dropped opened as he realized how remiss he'd been. Mrs. Benson always saw to Timmy's schoolwork. He attended PTA meetings, and did father-and-son things with Timmy, but just to sit and do lessons with him just didn't happen.
