Never Date Your Ex

by Genevieve Goodwin

  She removed a pie from the oven and the sweet aroma made his mouth water.

  "Would you like a piece of Key Lime pie?"

  "No. Let's get down to business," he said in a gruff voice. He had to keep this whole deal with Jamie strictly business.

  She took the seat opposite to him, crossing her long, lithe legs in full view. She sat in nothing but an old, folding chair yet she looked like a goddess, sitting serenely on a throne. He settled in stiffly and turned his attentions to the folder he carried.

  "I don't think one precludes the other. We can have our cake and eat it too," Jamie said.

  She was baiting him, and he felt it challenging to resist her sweet-smelling perfume and her disarming smile. He'd done his share of flirting with women in the past and in turn had been chased by many women, ones that were much more forward than Jamie. So why was he acting like a hormonal teenager?

  "I'm not hungry," he said.

  Her eyes lit with amusement.

  He looked around the room, his gaze resting on a torn up, lacy pillow lying in an empty cardboard box. He glanced at her face and caught her in an unguarded moment, noticing the fatigue behind her weary eyes. She smiled brightly the moment she was aware he watched her.

  "I forgot to mention. I'm having a security system put in so I'll need you to work out the electrical needs with Custom Security."

  "A security system? This is Seabrook, not Palm Beach. I'm sure that's not necessary," he said.

  "Oh, it is. I'll sleep better at night. You know, single gal and all." She laughed lightly.

  "It's your money," he said.

  "I would like it installed as soon as possible."

  Something felt uneasy to him. The circles under her eyes, the weariness, the tension in her wasn't just the signs of a stressed-out career woman. There was more to it. Her association with Conrad Malcolm gave him pause. Jamie was the sort of woman he would prey on. He should know.

  "I know Jim, the owner of Custom Security. I'll give him a call tomorrow," he said.

  "Good. The sooner the better."

  She read through the contract he gave her. Her hands were a bit unsteady, and she looked as though her thoughts were somewhere else, rather than on the paper she was supposed to be reading. She was hiding something, and he wanted to know what it was; he needed to know.

  "Is the contract okay?" he asked.

  She looked up, momentarily startled. "Yes. But we may need to change the contract after you talk to Custom Security," she said.

  He'd let it go, for now. He looked over the well-worn kitchen, settling his eyes on the wine bottle until she noticed. She shifted in her seat and a sheepish grin spread across her face.

  "Expecting company?" he asked.

  "I like to celebrate with a toast when I start a new project," she said lightly.

  "Considering your line of work, you must celebrate all the time."

  Her eyes flashed up at him. "Are you insinuating I have a drinking problem?"

  "I don't know, do you?"

  He cherished her barely concealed anger.

  "I rarely have more than one drink on any given occasion. I don't know what you've read in the tabloids about me, but trust me, none of it is true," she said, obviously riled.

  "I don't read the tabloids," he said, "Just the respectable newspapers."

  "Well, don't be so sure they publish the facts either," she said. "You can't know someone from a newspaper article."

  "I know enough," he said. "I know you do a lot of charity work. Very nice. And I know you've been linked with some of the most eligible bachelors in Hollywood and high society." He knew he should stop but he couldn't help himself. "Among them Conrad Malcolm," he said, hiding his disgust with effort.

  Her reaction was too instinctive for her to hide it. Her face turned pale, and for a moment she was stunned into silence.

  "Don't believe everything you read," she said quietly.

  "You know the old saying, birds of a feather and all," he said.

  "You know nothing about the truth," she countered.

  He'd said it to goad her, to get beneath her controlled demeanor. He wanted to smile but he didn't dare. He relaxed, feeling inexplicably more at ease. She didn't care for Conrad Malcolm. He would put money on it.

  "You and your assumptions," she said. "Sure, I'm a big, bad city woman whose sole interests are partying, and picking up rich men. You certainly lack imagination," she said.

  "Now settle down, darling. Don't tie your britches in a knot."

  "My britches are just fine," she muttered. She raised her chin in haughty defiance. "Sounds like you are the one tied in a knot."

  She was a devil, wasn't she? Aidan felt the dangerous tension in the air, in his body, running through his veins. He liked a woman with a sharp wit and fight. Too bad. Once he'd won the battle over Villa Milagros, she'd despise him. He could tell she wasn't a woman who liked to lose. He had to smile as he imagined the fit she'd throw when she found out he'd outbid her.

  "I didn't know you were capable of smiling," she mused.

  She went to the kitchen counter and began slicing the pie. She looked poised and refined amidst the stained walls of the kitchen that had seen better days. Guilt seeped into his conscience. He didn't have any right to judge her. She was a prospective client, and he'd never treated any other client so uncouthly, including the aggressive Miss. Sinclair who might have even deserved it. What could a piece of pie do other than satiate his empty stomach? He was after all, in charge of the situation.

  "I guess I'll have some pie. Smells too good to resist." He could have said the same thing about her.

  The delicate smirk which crossed her face didn't escape him as she laid out two plates and two glasses of water. He pulled out the contract for the renovations. They went over some of the finer details, Jamie made a few changes, and quietly signed the contract. The loud noise of a dog barking broke the silence.

  "You have a dog?" Aidan asked.

  She nodded, clearing away the dishes. "I found him yesterday, tangled up in the bougainvillea bush, poor thing. Come out and meet him."

  She was out the back door before he could refuse.

  The dog was a mere pup, and wagged his tail frantically at their arrival, apparently not appreciating being ignored for so long. The puppy jumped at her energetically as she approached. She scratched his ears absently and cooed to him in soft, incoherent sounds. The mutt then sniffed Aidan's boot suspiciously and deciding he was acceptable, jumped up on him until Aidan rewarded him with a pat on the head.

  "Cute pup," he said, thinking of how much Ross would have liked him. "What's his name?"

  "Thorn. I'm not keeping him though. I guess I'll take him to the pound next week."

  "If you're not keeping him then why did you name him?"

  An unreadable expression moved over her face. "They'll find him a home." She sounded as though she were trying to convince herself.

  He didn't want to tell her the chances were slim. With so many strays, few had the chance of finding homes and most ended up euthanized. "He's a cute mutt, maybe someone will adopt him," he offered, trying to sound upbeat.

  They walked back into the house, and Thorn cheerfully followed. He nudged his nose against Jamie's leg and she patted his head, absently looking out the kitchen window.

  "I can't keep Thorn. I'm too busy. I'm always out of town, and my condo in Palm Beach doesn't allow dogs."

  A frown settled on her face. It was obvious to Aidan she wanted to keep the mutt despite her protests. He softened a bit. Maybe she wasn't so snotty, high society after all.

  "I could find someone who'd take him," he offered. "I know about everyone in Seabrook," he said, surprising himself. Who was he to make promises to her?

  Thorn was sniffing his bowl expectantly, and she leaned against the kitchen counter, watching him with a bittersweet smile. "I guess I'll have to find a way to keep him," she said softly.

  Again, the gnawing feeling of tenderness tinged with fe
minine allure. Jamie Connolly was a formidable woman. He was finding out too much about his new client. More than he wanted to know. More than he needed to know. He grabbed his folder abruptly from the table and turned to go.

  "My men are finishing up another job right now. We'll start demolition on Thursday. Okay with you?"

  "Perfect. It will give me a chance to start shopping for materials," she said, leading him to the front door.

  "All women love to shop," Aidan quipped, not able to resist the urge to provoke her.

  "You certainly have narrow views for such an educated, well-traveled man."

  Aidan stopped in his tracks. Jamie stood in front of the door but made no move to open it.

  "What do you mean?" He was thoroughly suspicious now.

  "You did go to University of Miami, didn't you? Studied in Italy and France too. Very impressive."

  She obviously approved. He, on the other hand did not. If there was one thing he hated and one thing he found hazardous to his well-established life, was someone prying into his past.

  "Have you been snooping into my personal affairs?" It was more of a demand than a question.

  Her eyes flashed defensively at his reaction, but she quickly regained her composure. "I hired you to do some very expensive work on my house. I always check the credentials of anyone I work with, especially before signing a contract."

  He relaxed, a little. "I take it they were satisfactory to you?"

  She leaned against the front door, her expression challenging him. "Very satisfactory, otherwise I wouldn't have picked you for the job."

  A slow grumble interrupted Aidan's reply. Evidently the mutt had enough of being ignored and his growling grew into an all-out barking frenzy. Jamie, obviously unaccustomed to dogs, jumped suddenly at his yapping. She stepped forward to quiet him, but the pup ran between her feet, and she lost her balance. In a split second she was crashing toward the floor.

  Aidan halted her fall in an instance, grabbing her around the waist to steady her as she fell gracelessly into his arms. Her dress brushed against his legs, and the scent of her perfume mingled against his cotton tee shirt, leaving behind a tempting trace of her flowery scent. Her long, dark hair fell loosely across her shoulders, flowing elegantly over her face like a veil. She steadied herself, bracing her hands against Aidan's chest, and peered up into his face.

  At that moment, all bets were off.

  Aidan reached for her and pulled her against him, capturing her mouth with his before she uttered a sound. Her mouth parted under his willingly, as their lips touched in a moment exquisite bliss.

  She tasted like tart limes, graham crackers and sunshine rolled into one. Her lips were soft and warm. The creak of the old ceiling fan faded as he breathed in her flowery scent, glorious and sweet. He heard the tap of paws against the wood floors as the mutt scuttled away. Somewhere outside a palm frond rustled against the windowpane, and the bright sunlight faded into darkness as he gave into those feelings that had been awakened the day that he'd set foot in her house last week.

  He wrapped his hands around her waist and drew her closer. She sighed and drew her hands up around his neck, pulling him closer to her as if he might try to escape.

  But he didn't want to escape. Memories of her sweet lips invaded his mind, memories of secret teenage kisses on a moonlit night with the sand beneath their feet. A deep pang tore at his heart. He couldn't do this again. He felt as though he was almost beyond the brink of controlling his emotions. And he couldn't, he wouldn't lose control.

  He let her go abruptly. She clung to him momentarily, trying to keep her balance. She didn't try to talk to him, heaven forbid, as most females were so fond of doing. She simply smoothed her dress of invisible wrinkles and smiled weakly. Her lips were as pink as her blushing cheeks. He reached for the door, whispering a curse under his breath as he did.

  He left her then, letting the door slam behind him, and carelessly pulled his truck out of her driveway without looking back. He knew if he looked back, he would tear out of his truck, bust the door down, and kiss her again in the dim light of her empty living room. And that was something he was never going to be able to do. Not with Conrad Malcolm and Villa Milagros looming between them.

  Coming to his own house one block away, he glanced at his watch to see if he had enough time to go in before picking up Ross. He had to change his clothes and wash away the scent of her perfume, the very memory of her kiss. He had to get his head on straight.

  And forget about Jamie Connolly.

  Chapter Four

  "Oh, my lands! Woman, you look a mess!" Jamie's best friend, Kerrie breezed through Jamie's doorway in her red suit and heels stopping suddenly as she nearly stepped on Thorn.

  He barked playfully at Kerrie's heels, and she looked at Jamie, mystified. "A puppy? You've gone mad, I knew it! Any woman interested in that cool, brooding Aidan Brice is bound to go mad. Come in the kitchen," she commanded.

  Cool and brooding? Was she talking about the same man? The man who'd just moments ago held her in his arms and kissed her with soul searing passion? Jamie was still breathless from the kiss as she followed blindly in her best friend's footsteps.

  Kerrie surveyed the kitchen. "The wine is still here? Goodness girl, sit down and tell me what happened." Kerrie plopped into a chair and waited.

  Jamie's legs were still trembling as she sank obediently into the chair. She didn't feel like talking about it. She was still reeling from Aidan's kiss. From what it had done to her. Her mind. Her emotions.

  Emotions? She wasn't supposed to be feeling anything. This was supposed to be a fling, a planned flirtation and nothing more. She was in control.

  "We never got to the wine," she told Kerrie.

  "And?"

  Silence.

  "You're not going to go all quiet on me?" Kerrie asked.

  "Am I supposed to kiss and tell like we did in high school?"

  "You kissed?"

  Jamie simply nodded.

  "Didn't I warn you about him?" Kerrie shook her head with feigned disgust.

  Jamie stuck her tongue out defiantly.

  Kerrie ignored the gesture and leaned across the table, eyeing Jamie with a mischievous smile. "So, is he a good kisser?"

  Jamie raised her eyebrows. "That's a foolish question."

  Kerrie made a bee-line for the pie on the kitchen counter. "What's your next move?" she asked, rummaging through a kitchen drawer.

  "I think I'm going to let things happen naturally," Jamie said. What was she saying? Naturally, she and Aidan would end up intertwined in each other's arms again. And again. He was simply irresistible.

  Kerrie sat down with a large slice of pie. "Mmm-mm. Maggie makes the best pies, doesn't she?"

  Jamie didn't think she would ever forget the taste of Maggie's Key Lime pie on Aidan Brice's lips. The taste of sweet graham crackers, tangy lime custard and his soft, warm kiss would be seared in her memory forever. She wondered what the prim, uptight Maggie would think of that.

  Kerrie looked up from her plate. "Aidan Brice is sure a thing of beauty to look at, and of course there is a certain charming arrogance to his cool, detached nature," she remarked. "If you like that sort of man."

  She studied her friend intently. "Don't fall for him," Kerrie said. "His brother died in that horrible boating accident after high school. His parent's left Seabrook after Daniel died and never came back. He lost his wife a few years later. Poor Aidan, he's had a tragic life, but as much as I feel for the guy, I don't want to see you get hurt."

  Kerrie took another bite of pie. "Travis says he's positively jaded. And Trav should know, they're best friends. Maybe you should just forget-"

  "It's too late" Jamie said curtly. She was in bad and she knew it.

  "You finally ditched the crazed, frat boy Conrad, all well and good. You don't want to get involved again so soon, do you?"

  "Why not?" she asked. "It's not as though Conrad was my real boyfriend or anything." She shuddered at such a rev
olting thought. "He acted as if we were an item but we only went to a few parties together. We never even held hands, much less kissed. Thank the heavens for that!"

  Kerrie put her hand on Jamie's arm and stared her straight in the eyes. "Honey, I care about you. I want you to be aware of what you're getting into if you're starting to feel something more than attraction, if you catch my meaning," Kerrie said pointedly. "Aidan Brice is a deadly combination of good looks, charm and bitterness. Stay away from him if you can."

  But Jamie didn't want to stay away from him.

  Kerrie glanced at her watch and stood up. "I have an interview at five so I have to run. Some guy claims he saw a great white shark two miles out from Sabina beach." She shook her head in disbelief, "In these waters? So close to shore? I doubt it. Seabrook Press wants the story in tomorrow's paper, if it's true." Her expression was dour. "That's news around here."

  They walked to the front door and Kerrie hugged Jamie reassuringly. "Don't worry about it, Hon. It was only a kiss, right? Remember what I said."

  "I will" Jamie promised.

  In truth, the only thing she could remember at that moment was Aidan's warm lips which had imprinted on her very soul. She shut the front door. Just who was the one in charge here?

  ~

  "Daddy, how are you?" Ross climbed into his father's truck with his cap askew, his shirt caked with mud, and his sneaker's long laces untied.

  "I'm fine as frog hair." Aidan gave his usual answer, pulling a baseball cap snugly over his forehead.

  Ross laughed gleefully. "How fine is that, Daddy?"

  "That's pretty fine, son. Pretty fine."

  Truth was Aidan was feeling lousy, especially in the presence of his son. He had promised himself any woman he became involved with would be a woman who was maternal and loving, one who would love Ross as her own, and never leave him. He had promised himself he would never again be led astray by beauty and a pretty face. Today he had failed his son miserably.

  Ross however seemed completely unaware of his father's dilemma and was busy learning to whistle.

  "I can almost whistle, Daddy," he said happily. "Can we go fly the kite at the beach? Please?"