by Jaci Burton
And why the hell did she care? Clearly she’d get no answers today.
Pausing as she reached her bedroom, Jordan once again questioned her curiosity. Why did she care what Sam had been doing? She wasn’t interested in him romantically; Sam was just someone she once knew in high school who was going to do a job for her. She didn’t care what he had been doing, or why his marriage broke up.
Besides, he was everything she’d tried to avoid her entire life. A man like her father. Good-looking, charming. A heartbreaker. No one was going to break her heart. She’d guarded it for almost thirty years now, and not a single man had gotten close. The only one who had ever inched his way into her heart was now outside waiting for her to join him.
Stop wondering. Stop asking questions. Stop caring. She needed to concentrate on using Sam’s expertise and skills to get Grandma’s house—no, her house—repaired.
As soon as that was done, she could get out of Magnolia.
* * * * *
Sam retrieved his clipboard from the truck and turned around to look at the old house. Leaning back against the truck door, he waited for Jordan. He thought about how she looked when she answered the door this morning, her hair a tangled mess and wearing only a thin cotton T-shirt that barely covered her slender thighs. Her face had that sleepy, just-got-out-of-bed look he found so sexy.
When she’d opened the door, his heart leapt in his throat. He’d felt a sudden desire to pick up her sleepy form, climb the stairs to her bedroom and feel her warm body wrapped around him. He wondered what it would be like to wake up next to her after making love to her all night long.
With a disgusted curse, he adjusted his now tight jeans. He was never going to survive working around the woman if he couldn’t keep from getting hard every time she was near. She wasn’t even his type; she was just like Penny, with her dislike of small towns. And they were as mismatched as two people could be. Jordan was glamour, sophistication and parties; he was jeans, T-shirts and corner bars. He’d been down that road before, and wasn’t going there again.
Just because she looked sexy, smelled good, and had a body he was dying to get his hands on was no reason to get all worked up. There were plenty of women more than willing to hook up with him, he just hadn’t had time.
Well, he’d just have to start finding the time, and soon. Once he got laid five or six times he wouldn’t think about Jordan at all.
The subject of Sam’s thoughts opened the front door at that moment. She’d pulled her hair back in a ponytail, the long red strands swaying back and forth as she walked down the stairs. She wore blue jean shorts, sandals and an I LOVE NY T-shirt that barely covered her tanned, flat stomach.
Sam swallowed past the desert in his throat when he spotted the jeweled belly ring piercing her navel.
Goddamn, that was sexy as hell. Covering his aching hard-on with the clipboard, he tried to push aside thoughts of licking that pierced navel on his way further south.
She smiled, and it nearly devastated him. Although she’d been living the high life in New York, her face still bore the fresh, dewy complexion of a small-town girl.
The absence of makeup didn’t detract from her appearance. Instead, it made her look youthful and fresh. And incredibly desirable.
His balls began to throb.
Go away, dick. You’re not getting any right now, and sure as hell not from Jordan Weston.
This was going to be a helluva lot more difficult than he thought.
* * * * *
Belle Coeur had been in Jordan’s family since before the Civil War. She could trace her ancestors back to the early seventeen hundreds. As she thought about selling, guilt and regret tugged at her heart. But what choice did she have? This home, this land, had been someone else’s dream. Weren’t her dreams equally important?
The large white house had always felt like a cozy little home to Jordan, despite its overwhelming size. Standing at the end of the long paved road leading to the house, Jordan’s attention was drawn to the imposing structure. Tall Doric columns on either side of the front porch steps seemed to stretch to the sky and support the roof without effort. Grandma’s always well-manicured geraniums overflowed from the handcrafted whitewashed window boxes as well as from plastic green pots scattered around the porch.
“Rot has settled in here and these boards will need to be replaced,” Sam pointed out as they headed toward the house and walked up the front porch steps. “The entire exterior needs to be scraped and repainted.”
Flakes of paint glared at Jordan from the wooden clapboards on the front of the house, giving silent testimony to the weathering of the years. Despite the deterioration, the house’s beauty remained.
At least in her eyes. To a prospective buyer, they’d see old and in need of repair. To her, it was home.
No. It wasn’t home. Home had been Grandma, and Grandma was gone now.
Home was New York.
Jordan agreed with Sam’s assessments of the outside. She knew it was bad. Grandma had been an impeccable housekeeper, but there wasn’t much an old woman living alone could do about the exterior of the house or big projects that needed to be tackled.
Fortunately the lawn and gardens had been maintained by friends and neighbors who routinely came to mow, trim the trees and hedges and pull a few weeds. The lush beauty of the landscape remained, the tall cypress trees bending over the long drive leading up the house, as if extending welcome to visitors. Azaleas and camellias lined the driveway and front of the house, showing their bright colors every spring.
Sam handed Jordan his clipboard and retrieved an extension ladder from his truck. He quickly ascended to the roof, and she was amazed at his surefootedness. Like a cat, all muscle, sinew and grace. The mere act of watching him move set her heart fluttering and her hormones into overdrive. Desire flared sharp and sudden, pebbling her nipples and making her wet.
She never got hot just looking at a guy. What the hell was wrong with her?
Stop acting like a teenager for God’s sake. He’s only walking on the roof, not doing a striptease. Although the thought of Sam stripping naked on the roof of Belle Coeur made her giggle. Good thing he couldn’t hear her.
“The entire roof needs to be replaced,” he said on his way down the ladder.
No, she would not watch his firm ass as he descended.
“My guess is you’ve got some water leaks inside because there are more than a handful of shingles missing. We’ll take a look at the walls and ceilings when we go in.”
Once inside, they did find some water damage. The worst areas were in the great room, the largest room in the house. Jordan always envisioned this room as the place where cotillions were held during the antebellum days. She remembered standing in the middle of the room as a child, twirling around in circles as if she were dancing in a hoop dress, a southern beau at her side.
Over the years the emptiness of the room had been replaced by more and more furniture until the great room was more of a living area. Two oversized sofas and high-back chairs were positioned directly in front of the fireplace for reading and warmth in the wintertime. Large wool rugs covered the hardwood floors. Tall, built-in bookcases lined either side of the fireplace and were filled with old volumes of literary classics. There were books predating the Civil War, and several more that were likely worth a small fortune.
She’d have to go through all the books. Selling the house was one thing. She hadn’t thought about what she’d do with the furniture and other items, most of which had been here as long as the house itself. Some she’d want to keep, and the rest she’d either sell off at an auction or give away to Grandma’s friends.
That ache in the pit of her stomach hit again as she thought about selling anything in the house. It would be like selling off her family’s history—more importantly, Grandma’s history. But what would she do with all the things here if she didn’t sell them? Her apartment in New York was a cracker box, barely big enough for all her personal things, let alone the
extensive collections of books and antiques littered throughout this huge, rambling home.
“This room needs the most work.”
Feeling utterly miserable, she nodded at Sam’s assessment and followed as he pointed out the areas where the water damage was the worst.
“Look here.” Sam stopped her as she was leading him upstairs. “The banister is loose. Could be rot or maybe just needs adjustment.”
“Really. I hadn’t noticed that before.” When she leaned over to examine the rail more closely, she heard Sam’s sharp intake of breath behind her and half-turned. His eyes were hot and dark, his gaze assessing her hungrily. The stairway suddenly seemed very confined and quite warm. The heat of her blush warmed her face.
How old was she, anyway? It wasn’t like this was the first time a man had ogled her.
Of course, ten years ago she’d have given up a kidney to have Sam look at her the way he was right now.
Quickly turning away, she hurried up to the second floor. Before she did something really stupid, like leap on him right there on the stairway.
Ignoring the building heat between her legs, she followed him from room to room, saying nothing while he made notes.
“The three smaller bedrooms are fine. No water leakage so I’ll just recommend repainting them,” Sam said as he continued to make notes while heading down the hall to the master bedroom.
They entered Jordan’s bedroom, formerly her grandmother’s. She loved this room, with its fireplace tucked neatly into the far corner wall. A tapestry-covered loveseat sat in front of the fireplace. Grandma used to read to her as they both snuggled under quilts in front of a warm fire on cold winter nights.
A large cherry four-poster bed sat against the opposite wall. Grandma’s handmade blue and white wedding ring quilt adorned the bed, along with several matching decorative pillows. Sam looked around, then sat down on the edge of her bed and made more notes.
Except for that hot glance on the stairs, he had been completely businesslike after breakfast. She wondered why she felt disappointed. It’s not like she wanted him to notice her, flirt with or tease her, so why did she feel this way?
Watching him sitting on her bed provoked sudden unbidden thoughts. She envisioned herself next to him, her fingertips gliding over his skin. A desire to reach out and touch his muscular arms and chest overwhelmed her. Closing her eyes, she took the vision further.
Would he storm over and take what he wanted from her? Would he pull her roughly against him and ravage her mouth, forcing his tongue inside?
Yes. That’s what she wanted. Take it from her, demand it. He’d pull at her clothes, not caring whether they ripped or not. In a frenzy of lust, he’d tear her panties off and bury his face between her legs.
Her cunt swelled, arousal heating her from the inside out. She fanned her face and imagined his hot tongue on her clit, licking in slow circles, driving her crazy with the need to come.
Then he’d bend her over the bed, forcing her face down into the mattress and nudging her legs apart with his knee. She’d wait, anticipation making her tremble, until the moment his hot cock plunged inside her, making her scream.
Sam wouldn’t be a one-minute man, either. He’d fuck her for hours, make her beg for it, take her to the edge over and over before dragging an ear-splitting orgasm from her and then following up with a roaring one of his own.
Then, when it was over, he’d take her again. In her ass this time, powering his thick cock inside her anus and forcing her to slide her fingers inside her pussy until she came again and again and—
Good lord where did that come from? Her eyes flew open and met Sam’s at the same time she was trying to shake off thoughts of hot, animal sex with him. As if he’d read her mind, his lids half closed and his lips curled in a smile that could only be described as earth-shatteringly sexy. Only this time he wasn’t smirking. He stared at her boldly, assessing her reaction. Jordan returned the look, unable to avert her eyes as some invisible link between them held her gaze on his.
Her body was hot, aroused, primed for sex. Did he know that? Could he sense her need? What would she do if her fantasy became reality?
The room seemed to shrink as they remained focused on each other. A flush crept up her body. Her pulse quickened, and her lips parted as her breathing grew erratic. Sam’s gaze pinned her, held her in some kind of time warp where they were the only two people who existed, the only thing that mattered.
As if exposed to a sudden chill, her nipples hardened without benefit of touch. Thoughts of what she and Sam could do in that bed continued to flood her mind. Sam’s hot, promising looks further fueled her mental fires.
With lightning speed he bridged the distance between them. Jordan knew she should move away, make some light conversation, do something. Anything but just stand there. But she couldn’t. For some reason her feet wouldn’t move.
His eyes raked boldly over her, sliding down her body like a caress. She felt each glance as if he were touching her. When he reached out and pulled gently on a long red curl that had escaped her ponytail, she couldn’t hold back her gasp. Not breaking eye contact, he rubbed the curl between his fingers. She shivered in response to the light tug. Such a simple gesture and yet so erotic.
Oh God, he was going to kiss her. His full lips were only inches from hers. Jordan had to stop him now because she wasn’t sure she’d be able to if he placed his mouth on hers. Summoning up what little remaining inner strength she had, she stammered out, “Sh…should we go into the bathroom?”
Sam paused. His warm breath caressed her face as he responded with, “Huh?”
“The…the bathroom. I thought you might want to see if any repairs were needed in there.”
Sam cocked his head to the side as if he was trying to decipher a foreign language. Then, the light in his eyes went out. Taking a deep breath, he backed away and retrieved the clipboard from her bed.
“Sure. The bathroom. Let’s go have a look.”
Jordan let out the breath she had been holding, and willed her heart to beat normally. Inhaling to clear her head, she followed Sam into the bathroom.
But he was already on his way out. “I think I have it all. I’ll go downstairs and come up with some numbers for you, then we can discuss it.” He turned without another look at her and headed out the door.
Exhaling the breath she hadn’t been aware she’d been holding, she sat on the edge of the tub and took a minute to calm down. She had grossly underestimated her attraction to Sam. At first she had chalked it up to a reminiscence of her first crush come to life again. But now she could see that whatever she felt for him when she was sixteen was nothing in comparison to what was going on inside her now.
This couldn’t happen. She did not want to have feelings for someone like Sam Tanner. He didn’t fit into her plans at all, and she wasn’t about to fall for someone like him, someone who oozed charisma and sexuality.
Once he gave her his bid and sent someone to do the repairs, she would have no contact with him. In fact, now would be a good time to start. Jordan couldn’t wait to get him out of her house.
Determined to finalize things as quickly as possible, she headed downstairs, hoping he had the numbers worked up for the cost of repairs.
She found him at the kitchen table with his clipboard and calculator.
“Okay, I think I have it.” Gone were the hot glances he had exchanged with her earlier, replaced by an impersonal look. “Here’s what I came up with. This includes both material and labor, and I think it’s a fair price for what needs to be done.” He pushed the clipboard towards her.
The amount did seem fair. Jordan wasn’t sure how he could make a profit at this price, but she figured he must know what he was doing.
“Money’s kind of tight for me right now, but I shouldn’t have any difficulty paying you once the house is sold.” Wondering how she’d be able to advance him funds, she asked, “Do you need anything up front?”
He gathered his things and r
ose from the table. “No, that’s not necessary. You can pay in one lump sum after the job is done and the house is sold. I’ll have a contract drawn up and sent over this afternoon for your signature.”
“Fine. When will you send a crew to get started?” Jordan couldn’t wait to get him out of her life, out of her house, and out of her thoughts. The sooner the work was done, the quicker she’d get back to her life in New York.
You’re running.
She was not. And that little voice inside her head was beginning to piss her off.
“No crew. My men are all busy working on the new mall in town. However, it just so happens I have some free time, and seeing how much I’ve always liked this house, I’m going to take personal charge of the project and do it myself.”
“What?” Did he just say what she thought he did?
“I’ll be here bright and early tomorrow morning. I’ll let myself out,” he said and headed down the hall. Jordan heard the door close behind him as he left.
This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t do this to her. She’d have to put up with seeing him, having him around, all day, every day until the work was done. Considering what had just happened upstairs, she wasn’t sure her willpower was strong enough to withstand the temptation of Sam Tanner.
Now what? She couldn’t very well sit around all day and look at him. That would drive her crazy. Already her nerve endings were raw from the exchange upstairs, and that was just a look. If she had to endure it every day…
She needed something to do. But what?
Maybe tomorrow she’d head into town and find some books at the library, or some project to work on, or possibly catch up with some of her old friends. Anything to put some distance between her and Sam.
Chapter Three
What was it with that man’s timing? Jordan raced downstairs wearing only a short bathrobe, still dripping wet from the shower she had barely stepped out of when the blasted doorbell started ringing.
