by Piper Rayne
Quickly, he emptied the bucket, saving other items to leave there, and gathering the rest of his equipment to take with him. Then he scribbled a note and left it on the counter before exiting the premises.
"Recognize it, Jilly.” Rave stretched out on the sofa in Jillian's apartment later that day, using a file to shape his short fingernails with a precision borne of practice. "You just have a way of chasing off men."
* * *
"Leave her alone, Rave," Marley ordered, "and go check the casserole!"
Rave stretched out to his full length and threw the file on the sofa table. "Well, he did leave her a note, Marl. Which is more than the slimeball did."
Wondering had Rave resolved anything with Melba, Jillian glowered at him. "Out!" she ordered.
"Well, you shouldn't be so quick-tempered, Jillian Riley," Rave chastised. "What do you do but spit and growl at me and him."
Ignoring Jillian's gasp, Rave continued.
"You scared the man off."
"He's my contractor, Rave, nothing more!" Jillian gritted.
"Yeah, anything you say, girlfriend.” Rave paused at the door. "By the way, what did he say in the note?"
Jillian stood from the sofa and stomped to the door. "I warn you, if you burn one piece of food in my kitchen, your life will be in imminent danger of ending," she admonished, then slammed the door on him.
Marley laughed. "He's such a character. How ever do you put up with him?"
Slouching down on the sofa once again, Jillian grinned. "Mostly with the utmost patience. He's good all the way to his soul, Marl, and he's always there whenever I need him. But he's quite unique.” She sighed and gazed out her sitting room window, which overlooked the parking lot for the inn. Partly cloudy skies helped to keep the temperature to a moderate degree. "And sometimes a snoopy pest."
"What about Scott, Jilly?" Marley asked softly. "When you called me you sounded so distressed."
* * *
"I know. But I never meant for you to come over," Jillian explained, facing her friend. "It's so nice of Howie to care for all three kids while you once again come to the aid of your dysfunctional friend with her demented guests and demanding neighbor."
"Hush!" Marley said sharply. "We were sorority sisters together and you've just come upon hard times. You filled in for Howie at my Lamaze classes when he had to work late. Howie understands. Besides, allowing him time with the kids is just what he needs. He might finally be convinced to hire a live-in nanny," she said lightly.
"But it's time I grew up, Marley. And Scott? Well, all he's ever been is nice to me and yet I've been so bitchy to him, blaming him for something he had no control of."
"What did he say in the note?"
"Only that he remembered something he had to do today and that he would see me tomorrow."
Marley clapped her hands together, relief shining on her face. "Well, there you are, Jilly. He'll be back."
"Yes, but only to finish the job I hired him to do," Jillian said miserably. "I've decided I don't want to lose him, so I'm going to ask him out. I have the perfect evening planned, if he'll agree, and—"
"Why, Jillian Riley, you're in love with him!"
Jillian's eyes widened at Marley's revelation, then her spirits sank even lower. It wasn't that that fact wasn't known, albeit latently, to her. She just hadn't realized she was so transparent.
"Don't say that, Marley," she said, in denial. "I do like him. I'll admit that. I...I—"
Marley's eyes filled with sympathy, a look Jillian was beginning to hate.
"Jilly, what is it?"
* * *
"He still harbors feelings f-for Timmy's mother, whom I believe is deceased. Now, it seems he’d interested in some woman named Kayla. We've already had one "discussion" about her virtues. But even though it's better that my association with him ends when the job does, I can't let it go like that."
Marley hugged her, the smell of her favorite perfume stinging Jillian's senses. "Are you all right? Have you truly considered all the ramifications?"
"Yes, Marley. I'm fine. Tomorrow, I'll apologize to Scott for my outburst, then I'll ask him out."
"You do that, darling, and maybe you'll feel better. You need a break from everything. So I’m not asking you, I’m telling you that you and I are going out on a night on the town. Prepare yourself, Jilly! We’re going as soon as I can arrange it with Howie. It should be in the next couple of days.” Marley stood from her spot next to Jillian, then pulled Jillian to her feet. "Now, if there's anyone who can make you feel better, it's Raveno Mondel. Let's go and see what culinary surprise he's preparing for Bobbie Q. and Ally Gator, and all the other guests."
Jillian laughed, and followed Marley out the door, her mood considerably lightened now that she'd overcome her panic at finding Scott's note.
"Jilly, girl," Rave said when he saw her. "I was just coming to get you to tell you what the cat dragged in and left in your office."
"I beg your pardon?” Jillian's eyes widened as her gaze fell on counters where the familiar crates and boxes heralding a shipment from Weizel sat. Scott. Somehow she felt he was involved in this. At the moment, however, Rave was quite excited. "Did you say someone's in my office?"
"Yeah," Rave growled. "Wouldn't you know? It's the slimeball!"
11
Jillian's heart thudded nearly to a halt, and she stared at Rave as if he'd grown another head, tongue-tied. For two months, she'd wondered what happened to Douglas and why he left. And now Rave expected her to believe that he'd turned up, out of the blue, with no warning? Just as he'd left.
"Douglas?" she gasped. Seeing the burning rage glaring from Rave's eyes and the disbelief on Marley's face streamlined Jillian's shock and helped it to recede. In its place, stark anger blossomed. "Douglas Hogan is in my office?” Her voice quaked with her rising anger.
* * *
"The one and only, Jilly," Rave confirmed, his bearded jaw taut. "He awaits you even as we speak."
"Why the nerve of that creep!" Marley huffed with indignation.
A wicked grin curved Rave's mouth. "Shall I summon Jesse the Texan?"
"No!” Jillian started for her office. "I can handle this."
"Will you be all right alone in there with him?" Marley asked as she and Rave followed behind Jillian.
"I'll be fine," Jillian said with assurance. A couple of days ago she wouldn't have been as certain, but she was going to stand on her own and face Douglas—and come out on top. "Just fine. Quit worrying about me, and I'll see you in the kitchen."
Watching her friends as they retreated back to the kitchen, Jillian opened her office door and found Douglas rifling through her desk drawer. He was up to some other nefarious deed, but this time she caught him red-handed! The astonished look on his face and the frozen pose with his hand still in the drawer could have been comedic—if his treachery hadn't been so horrendous.
Scalding fury threatened to consume her. In an effort to control it, she clenched her teeth, but to no avail. This man had caused her entirely too much grief.
"What are you looking for, you thieving sewer rat?” Rushing to her desk, she promptly slammed the drawer on his fingers, which remained closed around something inside.
Douglas's mouth flew open, and he grabbed his hand, then jumped up and down in pain. "Ooowwweee!" he managed in a whimper. "I think you broke my fingers, Jill."
* * *
"Good," Jillian spat, having no sympathy for him. "I'd like to break your neck!” She glared at him. "Just what are you doing in here, you despicable maggot?"
Shaking his injured hand, Douglas stopped scurrying around the room long enough to give Jillian a hound dog expression.
"I've come to explain everything to you, Jillian," he said softly. He came to her and, with his good hand, caressed her cheek. "I know you probably wondered what happened to me and was very hurt and concerned over my disappearance."
Jillian glowered at him. She couldn't fathom how she'd ever fallen for him or
his smooth words. "Do you have my share of the money?"
Surprise crossed Douglas's features at Jillian's demand. She had never used that tone with him. In the past, she always coddled and accepted.
He smiled. It was gentle and familiar and so disgustingly phony that she felt nauseated.
"That's what I've come to explain, Jill, darling. If you'll only hear me out."
She nodded, unsure why she was agreeing to listen to anything he had to say. "Very well, Douglas. Although you don't deserve my cooperation, I am anxious to hear your explanation. Then I'll decide whether or not to call the police and have you arrested.”
Douglas paled slightly, but didn't comment. Wrapping his handkerchief around his swelling fingers, he said, "Thank you.
Jillian went to sit behind her desk, fixing her icy regard on him.
"May I sit down?"
* * *
Wondering what she ever thought attractive about him, Jillian nodded. Unlike Scott, who could have had a place on Mount Olympus with the gods of legend, Douglas was quite ordinary looking. His slight build and balding head made him seem even less than ordinary than she recalled. When she first met him, she'd thought him the best thing this side of Texas and overlooked his physical attributes, or lack thereof. Instead, she'd searched for the person she thought he was inside.
He seemed to be faltering, unsure how to begin, and Jillian's impatience grew.
"Well?" she urged.
"Um...J-Jilly, m-my Thoroughbred filly—"
His silly grin almost made him look like a donkey.
"Cut the crap, Douglas, and get to the point."
Douglas cleared his throat. "Very well, Jillian," he said pitifully, then moaned and hung his head. "But I'm in pain here. I think one or two of my fingers are broken. The least you could have done was prepare an ice pack for me."
Infuriated at his attempt to butter her up, Jillian threw him a look that could puncture diamonds. He shifted his weight.
"Jillian, I am so sorry about what I did," he began without further hesitation. "I took the money to invest. I wanted us to have more, and I didn't tell you because I wanted to surprise you."
"I see.” She released a short, mirthless laugh. "So that should explain why you took the money, but why you didn't pay the mortgage for two months? It should also explain why you disappeared without leaving word of your...intentions?"
Douglas shrugged his shoulders, and his cool nonchalance enraged her all the more.
"I didn't pay the mortgage for the same reason that I took the money in the first place," he said nicely. "The more money, the better investment, the bigger the return."
"I'm assuming for our money you've gotten a huge return. Otherwise, you wouldn't have been that arrogant to come back.” She glared at him with scorn. "So how much is my share?"
* * *
"I've lost all our money, Jill," he answered with a nervous laugh. He bounded from his seat and dropped to his knees before her. "My darling, how I've missed you! I hope you can forgive me and take me back. Believe me, even if I wasn't now broke, I would—"
With all the force of her fury, Jillian slapped Douglas across his jaw, effectively cutting off the lies he was telling her. The blow stung her hand and sent Douglas reeling. She stood from her seat.
"Get out!" she blazed. "I don't ever want to see you again."
Still on his knees, Douglas crawled to her. "Jill, listen—"
"Are you hard of hearing, champ, or are you simply ignoring the lady's request?"
Scott's snarl brought Jillian's attention to the door. For the reputation of her inn, she didn't want a brawl to ensue. But one look at the scorn on Scott's face told her the inn wasn't at the top of his list at the moment.
* * *
"Who are you?" Douglas snapped.
"I'm Peter Pan.” Scott's gold-flecked eyes were like bits of stone, icy and filled with dislike. He towered before Douglas, his body vibrating with power and tension. "And I'm about to show you how to fly!"
Rave barreled through the door. "And I'm Tinkerbell," he snapped, throwing Scott a warning look. "Stepping in to remind you two where you are."
"Scott!" Jillian said, confusion blocking out any anger she might have felt.
"Jilly, honey, why don't you and gorgeous here go to the kitchen, while Rave and I see to Douglas leaving," Marley suggested, her legendary diplomacy coming through at a crucial moment.
"Good idea," Scott said. He took Jillian by the arm and steered her around Douglas. Her annoyance obvious, he stopped. "Isn't it?"
She merely nodded. Pulling herself free of his hold, she led the way to her apartment, where Scott closed the door behind them.
Her body giving way to trembles, Jillian collapsed on the sofa, and shut her eyes. She wasn't sure what had upset her so much—the final, emotional meeting with Douglas that confirmed her financial woes and his true character or Scott's reaction to finding Douglas there.
"Jillian, do you want to talk about it?"
Scott's voice reached through her turmoil, very near to her and quite stirring. She was glad that he was there with her, glad that he had returned. As if he read her thoughts, he pulled her into his arms and caressed her unbound hair.
"Yes, Scott, I would like to talk about it, but not now," Jillian answered, relishing the feel of his broad chest beneath her head, her dispiriting thoughts chased away by him. "I thought you had something to do. Why did you come back?"
* * *
"I came back to apologize for my behavior this morning, sweetheart," Scott whispered. "I acted like a prize jerk, and I am so sorry."
"Apology accepted," she said, "only if you accept mine as well. I could have been a little less grouchy this morning."
"I understand, Jilly," Scott told her, gliding his hand up and down her back. "So you're not angry about Weizel?"
Delicious tingles caused by his touch coursing through the core of her, Jillian pushed herself away from him. "To the contrary. I'm grateful."
He smiled at her and seemed very pleased. Contentment flowed through her, and she gloried in this brief moment she was sharing with him. She and Scott might not have a long future together, but they had the here and now, the present, which could turn into a lifetime of blissful memories for herself.
Although Scott was becoming interested in her, she was still certain he harbored some feelings for his wife. And, though he wasn't wearing it at the moment, she was quite sure that he had his wedding ring with him. It was always somewhere near him, which spoke volumes about how he'd truly felt about his wedding vows, despite the fact that he was in her apartment giving her comfort.
She looked at him, and excitement surged through her. Passionate invitation smoldered from the depths of his eyes, lit with golden promise. Age-old instinct and need guided her as she parted her lips slightly.
"Oh Scott," she whispered, her pulse quickening at the contact of his mouth against hers.
Scott's arms tightened around her and he deepened the kiss, encouraged by her response. He feasted upon her lips, delved into the warm recesses of her unresisting mouth.
A knock sounded on the door. Abruptly, Jillian sat up, her body heavy, the mood shattered. Scott cursed roundly.
"Oh no," she whispered. "I-I forgot about Rave and...and—"
"Jillian, honey, relax," Scott soothed, as another pound shook the door.
His arousal pressed against his own denims, quite evident in the tight confines. How would he relax in the short time it took to open the door? Especially since the knocker sounded so impatient.
"Jilly, honey, are you in there?" Rave called, his amused voice floating through the door.
"Scott, th-they'll know," Jillian said, her gaze riveted to the bulge in his trousers.
Scott grinned, unrepentant. "What you're looking at is concrete evidence of something we didn't do, sweetheart.” His grin widened. "Concrete. Notice the play on words."
* * *
Jillian looked at the door, then back at Scott, smili
ng slightly at his statement. "Just a sec, Rave," she called, unable to rouse too much enthusiasm, unhappy at the intrusion. "Sit back down, Scott, and don't move.” She hurried to the door, tidying her clothes and hair in the process. Unfortunately, she didn't have any ice handy to cool her passion-heated cheeks.
Smiling brightly, she swung the door opened and invited Rave inside.
He perused her up and down, and a knowing glint entered his eyes. "Did I disturb something?"
Jillian ignored his wicked amusement and cleared her throat, then glowered at him. "Really, Rave! What could you possibly have disturbed?"
"Org—"
"Where's Marley?" she quickly interrupted, knowing something outrageous had been about to spill from Rave's mouth. "Did Douglas leave?"
"Marley's right in the kitchen, where I thought you would be. But no! You and Scott are in here organizing a plan of action.” His grin widened and his eyes twinkled. "Girl, your face is glowing like a neon sign! If it's because Douglas slithered back, I'd better try and stop him before he gets to the airport."
Rave's brashness corroding her aplomb, Jillian frowned. "How do you know Douglas is en route to the airport?"
"Marley threatened his freedom by having him arrested for stealing if he didn't get as far away from the inn as possible. And from you."
Jillian's glance slid to where Scott sat, listening impassively to Rave's explanation. The moment she'd stepped into her office with Scott, Douglas Hogan had simply become a bad memory. But Scott deserved an explanation. He earned it. He'd comforted her in her time of need and made her forget her troubles momentarily. Smiling hesitantly at the enigmatic expression on his face, she decided to usher her friend out.
