Magnolia Summer

by Jaci Burton

  She threw open the door to give Sam a piece of her mind, and was dumbstruck at the sight of him in his tattered old gym shorts and sleeveless muscle shirt. How could a man so incredibly irritating have the ability to spark a desire in her to grab him by the shirt and plant a hot, wet kiss on his full, sexy lips?

  “Damn, Jordan.” Those incredible eyes raked over her half-clad body. “You sure know how to answer the door in the morning. Yesterday the sexy T-shirt, today this tiny robe—maybe tomorrow morning you could answer the door naked.”

  She tapped her wet foot on the foyer floor and gathered the folds of her bathrobe around her. “Look, Sam. I’m in a hurry this morning, I’m obviously soaking wet, and I really wish you wouldn’t lean on my doorbell every time you come over. Can’t you just start working without having to announce your presence?”

  He grinned and stepped inside. “Well, I suppose I could do that, but then again I thought you wouldn’t mind if I brewed some coffee before I started. Besides, I can’t resist these early morning views of you.”

  Which was entirely bullshit. He just wanted to irritate her, and was succeeding.

  “You’re all wet. Why don’t you go get dressed and I’ll get us some coffee?” He headed into the kitchen, leaving Jordan standing in a puddle of water.

  She mumbled under her breath as she stomped furiously up the stairs. “I’m pretty sure this is my house, dammit. Didn’t know I had a roommate now, telling me what to do, making himself at home as if he lived here.”

  The nerve of the man. Apparently he had no manners whatsoever. Did he barge into everyone’s homes whenever he was hungry for breakfast and wanted a cup of coffee? Or did he only delight in irritating her?

  Grabbing some clothes to put on, she hurriedly combed her hair and headed downstairs to see about getting her unwelcome guest out of her kitchen.

  Coffee was already brewing and the cups and cream were on the table when she entered the kitchen. He looked up and smiled. “I’m disappointed. You have clothes on.”

  Ignoring his comment, she asked, “What are your plans for today?”

  “Thought I’d get started outside,” he replied as he poured coffee. “I plan on stripping some of the paint off the house, pulling off a few of the boards and replacing them so I can start painting.”

  She took the coffee he offered, mumbling her thanks as she sipped the steaming brew. “I still don’t understand why you’re doing this work yourself. Surely you have some laborers who can do it for you?”

  “I don’t mind. I like to work with my hands. And I’m short-handed right now. My men are all busy with other projects, and rather than putting you off for a month or more since I know you’re in a hurry, I’ll just do the job myself.”

  “I could have waited a bit.”

  “Really. A month or more?”

  He had her there. “Well, no, but—”

  “Anyway,” he added with a grin, “this job has great perks. I get to hang around a beautiful woman and get paid for it. Sure can’t beat that.”

  “Well you’re going to have to do without me today. I’m going into town and will be gone most of the day.” She tried to ignore the fact he said she was beautiful.

  “Being around me too much for you Jordan?”

  The ego of the man astounded her. “In your dreams. I’m simply going to do some shopping.” Having already had more than enough of his comments, she rose from the table and went to the sink to wash her cup. When she turned around, he was smirking at her.

  “I think you just can’t handle being near me.”

  Refusing to be baited, she replied, “And I think you just can’t handle that a woman wouldn’t want you.”

  His movements were slow and deliberate as he headed in her direction. He leaned against the counter, his hip brushing hers. The sensation of having his body touching hers was unnerving. Jordan felt the heat flowing between them, and looked up to object. His face was inches from hers.

  He spoke in a near whisper as he moved in closer. “Oh, I think I could handle it if a woman didn’t want me. But that’s not the case here, is it?”

  When his voice caressed her like that, she couldn’t think straight. He was deliberately trying to confuse her, trying to draw a response. A response she wasn’t ready, or willing, to give.

  “I don’t want you, Sam,” she lied, dipping her head down to stare at her feet, unable to meet his gaze.

  Absently reaching for one of her long curls, he said, “I think I scare you, Jordan. I think when I get close to you like this, you feel something, and that scares the hell out of you—makes you want to run.”

  You’re running.

  Dammit, the conversation was heading in a direction she didn’t want to go. She placed her coffee cup on the counter and pressed her hands against Sam’s chest to move him out of her way. But for some inexplicable reason she left them resting on his chest, exerting no pressure to push him back. She could feel his heart beating beneath her palm, his chest rising and falling. Like her own, Sam’s heart beat rapidly, his breathing quickened, and Jordan knew that he was as affected by their contact as she. What would happen if she leaned closer instead of moving away?

  Disaster, that’s what.

  “I’m not running, and I’m not afraid of you. I just don’t want to do this,” she said to his chest, not wanting to look up into those deep blue pools. Fearing what she might see or do if she looked in his eyes, she kept her gaze fixed below his face.

  “Why not?” He breathed into her hair and lazily ran his fingers up and down the middle of her back. Despite the heat of the morning, she shivered. His erection was unmistakable as he leaned lightly against her hip. Jordan found the fact so incredibly erotic it made her legs weak. Her blood was pounding in her ears, and if she didn’t get away from him she’d do something she’d regret.

  The realization hit her, effectively shutting down the heat passing between the two of them. She was weak. A sucker for a charmer, just like her mother had been. And Jordan vowed a long time ago that she’d never be like her mother.

  Her body may want him, but her mind was stronger. And her mind didn’t want this at all.

  “Get out of my way, Sam,” she said firmly. “I don’t want this.”

  Sam paused for a moment, his breathing erratic and his pulse still racing under her hand. Finally, he inhaled deeply and backed away enough so that Jordan could look at him. What she saw took her breath away. Hot desire was evident in the way his eyes darkened like the sky before a storm. Pulling his hand through his hair, he sighed deeply.

  “Enjoy your day in town.” His voice was rough as he turned away from her. “I’ll be outside all day, but if you wouldn’t mind leaving the door open, I can pop in here for a drink occasionally.”

  Her heart pinged against her ribs as she watched him walk away, her body still on fire from his touch. He made her feelings churn inside until she was completely confused. Maybe it was because she had never been around someone like Sam, had never wanted or encouraged relationships with men like him.

  Certainly she’d had relationships before. And of course had sex with men before. But she’d purposely chosen men who she would never fall in love with. Men whose sexuality wasn’t so potent it threatened to consume her. She had always been in control.

  Until now. Sam made her feel completely and totally out of control.

  Feeling the need for escape, she grabbed her purse and keys and headed into town.

  * * * * *

  Jordan pulled into a parking spot in front of the Magnolia Library. If she was lucky, the library might have some dramatic plays or possibly even some Shakespeare. Once she started her own theater, she planned on producing the classics, some twentieth-century dramas, and of course her favorite—musicals. Maybe even hold a class or two on acting as well as stage production.

  The thought of realizing her dream caused childlike excitement within her. Jordan had wanted to own a theater for as long as she could remember. From the time she got t
he part of the evil queen in the seventh grade production of Snow White, Jordan had been hooked.

  At first it was the acting, but as she got more involved during high school, Mrs. David, the drama director, taught her everything else. She learned set design, blocking, lighting, everything there was to know about putting on a play. She was even allowed to produce and direct the senior play.

  Her first stop when she entered the library was the information desk. Not a huge library, there was only one person at the desk to provide information as well as handle book returns and checkouts.

  The woman at the desk spotted Jordan and erupted into a huge smile. “Why Jordan Lee, how nice to see you.”

  “Mrs. Cutter, how nice to see you again.” Emily Cutter and her husband James owned Cutter Clothing, one of the oldest retail establishments on Main Street.

  Emily was a small, thin woman with short gray hair and huge tortoiseshell glasses that overpowered her face. She had always been so sweet to Jordan when Grandma brought her to Cutter’s to shop. “How are you and Mr. Cutter doing?”

  “We’re doing just fine, dear. James is busy as ever at the store. Always a new line coming in, you know. We’ve got a great sale on our western wear right now. You’ll just have to stop in and see. I know Mr. Cutter would be so happy to see you. Have you moved back to Magnolia now? You know your Grandma always wanted you to come back home.”

  What was it about folks in this town and their ability to talk about ten different subjects in a single breath?

  “Thank you, Mrs. Cutter. I’m just here for a visit. I’m going to stay for about a month to get Grandma’s place repaired and ready to sell, and then I’ll be on my way back to New York.”

  “I heard you were planning to sell Viola’s place,” Emily said, her face registering the sadness that Jordan felt but refused to acknowledge.

  Of course, the fact that everyone knew she was selling the house didn’t come as any surprise. The grapevine moved fast in a small town.

  “Yes, I will be.”

  “That makes us all very sad. We were hoping you’d want to stay on at the house, come back here where you belong. But you young ones always have to reach for the stars, now don’t you?”

  Jordan laughed. “I don’t know about that, Mrs. Cutter. But I’m happy in New York, and I have plans for the future. I’d like to start my own community theater, which is why I’m here. Do you have any books on dramatic works, maybe Shakespeare, or even Hemingway?”

  Emily appeared lost in thought. “Community theater, huh? Well isn’t that a grand idea? How exciting for you, Jordan. Of course, you wanted books. Aisle twelve, left-hand side should be where you’ll find what you’re looking for.”

  As Jordan thanked her and started to walk away, Emily added, “By the way, Jordan Lee, you might want to stop in at the Magnolia Community Theater. It’s right next door and I hear they’re planning to put on a production for the Summer Festival. Maybe you could give them some guidance.”

  Community theater? In Magnolia? Some things did change after all. There had never been a community theater here before, nor anything else cultural or theatrical other than the high school productions. Now she was intrigued. “I’ll do that Mrs. Cutter. Thank you, it was wonderful to see you.”

  After browsing the books, she chose a few that looked promising. Wishing she’d brought her own books on production and set design, Jordan settled on a little Hemingway, Shakespeare and a few romance novels that she’d found in another aisle. Well, why not? Just because she read the classics didn’t mean she couldn’t get into a nice hot romance now and then. Besides, wicked sex with the man of your dreams only occurred in literary fiction.

  And with vibrators and a rich fantasy life. Jordan got plenty of that and had a suitcase full of toys to play with.

  Sex with a vibrator was always safer. She’d never have to get her heart broken that way, and she’d never fall for the wrong man.

  Taking a seat in the reading area, she browsed the books she’d selected. But she was too restless to read. Her mind was on her theater.

  Although she was sure she’d make a tidy sum of money selling Grandma’s house and land. With New York real estate prices being what they were, she wouldn’t be able to buy an exceptional piece of property. But she didn’t care. Her dream was to have her own theater, and that dream was closer to coming true now than it had ever been.

  After checking out the books, she walked outside and headed next door. A sign above the building read Magnolia Community Theater. When she peeked in the window she saw a group of people, some painting what appeared to be a set. The remaining group was arguing, but Jordan couldn’t hear what it was about. Her curiosity piqued, she opened the door and stepped inside. All hell appeared to be breaking loose.

  “Lola, you don’t have a clue how to produce a play. What makes you think you can run things around here?” a man’s booming voice echoed in the near-empty room.

  Jordan recognized Lola Feldman, one of Magnolia’s famous busybodies. A middle-aged woman with bleached blonde hair teased to unimaginable heights, Lola was always in the middle of things, and usually taking charge.

  “Well!” Lola huffed. “Somebody has to do it, and I don’t see any of you volunteering for the job! Frankly, I don’t want it either. But I’ve got enough community spirit to know if someone doesn’t take over, there will be no play to put on at the Summer Festival. Why, think of the disappointment of all our fans!”

  A petite young woman with pixie short dark hair piped in. Jordan smiled as she recognized her old friend, Katie Grayson, the daughter of Grandma’s neighbor, Millie. Katie and Jordan had played together as kids. If she’d been close to anyone in Magnolia, it had been Katie. Unfortunately, they’d lost touch over the years. Okay, it had been Jordan who’d lost touch.

  Why was everything about Magnolia a bad memory? She’d had good times here.

  “Fans? We have fans?” Katie looked around the room in mock curiosity. “And where might those supposed fans be? C’mon Lola, you know darn well this is our first production and we barely exist in the minds of the folks around here. Yeah, people are excited about having a theater, but that could hardly be called a fan club.”

  Jordan smiled when she spotted one of her other high school friends, George Lewiston. “Katie’s right, Lola. But then so are you. We have a responsibility to put this show on. There’s no point in having a community theater if we can’t put on a production. And we’ve waited for this a long time. Trouble is, none of us have the experience to do it. So now what do we do?”

  It was all Jordan could do not to laugh. This was typical small-town drama. She might as well speak up and let the people in the room know they had company. “Excuse me,” she said softly.

  Heads turned. The room wasn’t large, but it was full. There must have been twenty people in there, and all eyes turned to Jordan.

  Standing next to Katie was her mother, Millie Grayson. Millie was a short, plump bundle of energy. Famous for her peach pies, and one of Grandma’s dearest friends.

  “Jordan!” Katie squealed in delight. “How wonderful to see you!” She ran over and enveloped Jordan in a hug. “I’m so glad you’re here. We’ve hardly had time to talk since you came back.”

  “I know, I’ve been busy.” She really had been meaning to wander over and visit Katie, she’d just been…

  What? Brooding? Hiding?

  Running?

  “Come on in,” Katie said. “Maybe you can offer some advice. Have you come to help us?”

  Before she could respond, Millie ran up and threw her chubby arms around Jordan, squeezing her in a cheerful hug. Jordan’s face was suddenly smashed into a nest of teased brown hair held in place by at least one entire can of hairspray.

  “Jordan Lee Weston! Why haven’t you come to see me? I baked four pies yesterday and was hoping you’d stop by so we could chat.”

  Chat her foot. Millie hoped Jordan would stop by so she could grill her about Sam and every personal detai
l about her life. Good-natured and a wonderful woman, Millie was also the queen of Magnolia gossip.

  Jordan laughed. “Sorry, Millie. I’ll try to get over within the next day or so. As far as your play, I don’t know what kind of help you need. Actually I just peeked my head in to see what was going on. What’s the problem?”

  Lola butted in with a response. “Well, this is the problem. Our former director, Betsy Daniels, has apparently up and eloped with her young fiancé, who got a job offer in Virginia, leaving us without any direction. And since Betsy was the most experienced, having taken two semesters of drama at the community college, we were trying to figure out who was going to take over this production.”

  Millie piped up immediately. “Jordan Lee can do it. She’s the expert. She even works in the theater in New York City!”

  She cringed at the oohhs and aaahs that were voiced over her theater experience. Why didn’t she just cruise by the window and keep on walking?

  “I’m not here for that long. But thanks for the offer.” No way was she getting involved in this.

  Katie pleaded. “C’mon Jordan. We’d love to have you direct our play. We’re putting on a production of The Music Man for the Summer Festival next month. Rehearsals barely started when Betsy decided she had to get married right away. Anyway, that leaves us without a director. Please say you’ll help us.”

  She eyed Katie suspiciously, refusing to be swayed by the batting of the baby blues. Definitely not. Jordan smiled benignly. “I really can’t. I have so many things to do during the short time I’m here; I just couldn’t devote enough time to your play.”

  The room got quiet. Crestfallen faces surrounded her, and she immediately felt a twinge of guilt.

  No, no, no! She wasn’t going to get roped into directing this play. She had things to do and didn’t have time. Even if it was something she’d enjoy. Even if it would pass the time until she left.

  Then a thought struck home. If Jordan busied herself with directing the play, she’d have less exposure to Sam. And that would almost be worth it.