Josie Day Is Coming Home

by Lisa Plumley

  She crossed her arms. “I’m not selling knickknacks.”

  An ah-hah look flashed over his face. He shook his head.

  “Sorry. I can’t help you with putting this place on the market. I’m just here to make repairs.”

  He thought she was a real estate broker? Josie opened her mouth to contradict him, but he was already off and running.

  “On the other hand, you’re the hottest agent they’ve sent out here yet.” Another once-over…this one, entirely complimentary. He even put down his hammer and shingles. “So I’ll listen if you want to try to change my mind.”

  She should have been offended. But a grin like his—masculine and cocksure and friendly, all at the same time—somehow made that impossible. With that remarkable grin, he could have tempted a nun into taking up sin. Josie couldn’t help but respond to it. On the inside. On the outside, she merely shrugged.

  “Your generosity is mind-boggling.”

  “So is my memory of the women in town.” His gaze lingered on her face, then meandered to her legs. “You’re new here.”

  He didn’t know the half of it.

  “I’m wearing track pants. You can make a positive ID just by ogling my calves?”

  “I prefer thighs.” A wider grin. “And yeah. I can.”

  “Remind me to avoid miniskirts.”

  With a shrug, he slid to the edge of the porch roof. His movements were steady and practiced. “Doesn’t matter. In a pinch, I’m willing to ID using other means.”

  His gaze traveled north in demonstration, then zipped up to her face. A cheerful expression lit his features. It was clear he was teasing. It was just as clear he was flirting. Josie wished that fact didn’t perk up her morning quite so readily.

  She really shouldn’t have slurped through all those Big Gulps. Caffeine was a stimulant, after all.

  “I’ll be in town for quite a while,” she said, forcing herself to move things in a more businesslike direction. “Depending on how my plans work out, maybe indefinitely.”

  “Good. We have a serious shortage of frivolous shoes here in Donovan’s Corner. You ought to fill the gap nicely.”

  She frowned at her rainbow-patterned cork-soled wedgies. When she glanced up again, it was to see him dangling from the edge of the porch roof. The muscles in his arms and shoulders bulged with the strength required to hold him suspended. Nimbly, he dropped the short distance between his booted feet and the new spring grass.

  Standing on a level with her, he was both taller and bigger than she’d thought. He swiped his forehead with his forearm.

  Without her permission, Josie’s libido automatically tallied up the new information his nearness offered. This was a man who didn’t care how he looked—and was all the more appealing for it. His jeans and black T-shirt were the uniform of careless bad boys everywhere…but the way they hugged his body seemed entirely new. So did the cryptic tattoo encircling one taut biceps. Probably it was a set of ancient symbols, all their inky blackness representing one simple warning: think twice.

  It was advice she doubted any of the local ladies heeded. Around here, they probably watched his every move. Fortunately, Josie had sworn off inappropriate men. Especially the dangerously appealing ones. She’d dated way too many of them to be lured by the homegrown version now. Especially with so many other things she needed to focus on.

  Mmm-hmmm, her conscience jabbed. Tell me another one.

  She frowned, enjoying one last look as her new handyman bent to retrieve something from beside the toolbox at his feet. So she’d flirted back a little bit. Big deal. Could she help it if there was something about a guy with talented hands? Not to mention a backside so fine it could have incited a riot?

  He turned. Caught her ogling. Grinned again in that same swaggering fashion. She would have given anything to dump the water bottle in his hand all over his know-it-all expression.

  “See anything you like?” he asked.

  Josie envisioned water dripping from his prominent nose. “All the time. Admiring the view doesn’t mean staking out a piece of it for yourself.”

  “It doesn’t?”

  “No.”

  Absently, she watched him drink. He did so greedily, his tanned throat working to drain most of the bottle. When he lowered it again, he lifted one thick brow in surprise.

  “Especially when we’re going to be working together from now on.” She shifted her shoulder to keep her duffel in place, then extended her hand. “I’m Josie Day. The new owner.”

  “Of…?”

  “This place. Blue Moon.”

  With his hand clasping hers, he stilled. A strange expression crossed his face.

  “I’ve got the key to prove it.” She withdrew from his grasp and dangled the newest addition to her Enchanté key ring with a feeling of satisfaction. “Right here.”

  A frown. “You’d better let me see that.”

  “I’ll do you one better. I’ll demonstrate it in action.”

  “Yeah?”

  With a skeptical snort, he set his bottle on the grass, then folded his arms. The gesture made his biceps flex in a way Josie wished she hadn’t noticed. Unfortunately, she’d have to have been made of stone not to notice.

  He nodded to the front door. “Good luck. I’ll wait here.”

  Puzzled, she rubbed her thumb over her key. Her handyman sounded as though he had his doubts about it working, too. Sheesh. If this was the kind of prove-it-to-me reception she could expect in town, she had a lot of work ahead of her. Even more than she’d thought.

  Josie glanced up at him. He jutted his chin toward the door as though inviting her to prove him right. The look on his face activated every rebellious instinct she possessed.

  “Fine.” She lifted her nose in the air. “After I take a look inside, we’ll discuss the work that needs to be done around here. There seems to be plenty of it.”

  His dubious expression didn’t waver. “Red, you get that door open with that key of yours, and we’ll talk about anything you please.”

  Generous as his words seemed, his tone clearly communicated something more. Something along the lines of: You have about as much chance of opening that door as you do of growing a goatee. Josie didn’t have time to let it bother her.

  “Watch and learn,” she said instead, then headed toward the door.

  With interest, Luke Donovan watched the redhead climb his porch steps in those ridiculous shoes. Too bad the most interesting trespassers were also the craziest.

  There was no way in hell Josie Day owned Blue Moon—his aunt Tallulah wouldn’t have done that to him. Not again. Josie had to be another in the long line of local real estate agents, all with dollar signs in their eyes, who wanted him to sell out. She was new in town—and more determined than most. That was all.

  “If it’s any consolation,” he called, “I admire your willingness to take this all the way. You must be a hell of a poker player.”

  As he’d predicted, she couldn’t resist answering.

  “Poker?”

  “Because you’re willing to bluff. Do they teach you that in Realtor school? Along with wheedling, finagling, and pushing the hard-sell?”

  “Hey, watch it. My mother is a real estate agent.”

  “Then we’ve probably met.” Idly, he admired the curvaceous shape of Josie’s backside as she bent to examine the house’s old-fashioned lock. Yeah, too bad she was crazy. Or determined to get him to sell Blue Moon. Either way, it wasn’t good. He had plans of his own for the place. He wasn’t ready to sell yet. “No hard feelings.”

  “You keep that in mind. After I prove you wrong.”

  He grinned. She had spirit, he’d give her that. Also, a jumble of ponytailed red hair he could easily picture spread across his pillow. Some men had a weakness for gambling or drinking or working ninety hours a week—like his father. They found those things completely irresistible. Luke felt that way about redheads. Especially, suddenly, the real estate-selling variety.

  “Bluff
ing your way into hundred-year-old houses must be hard work. When you’re finished, I’ll get you a cup of coffee,” he offered.

  Given the circumstances, he thought that was pretty magnanimous of him. Given her rolled eyes and the impatient jangle of her keys, she was less than bowled over by the gesture.

  “Don’t do me any favors.”

  He already had. Ordinarily, he’d have given her the boot—nicely—from the get-go. But something about her intrigued him. Either that, or he was bored with nailing shingles to the roof. He’d been working on that damned splintery cedar for three days now. He wasn’t half done yet.

  Another sound came from the porch—this time, jiggling hardware as Josie rattled the doorknob. He’d have sworn he heard her grinding her teeth, too.

  “Having trouble?” he inquired innocently.

  “Yes.” An over-the-shoulder glare. “Someone won’t shut up long enough for me to concentrate.”

  He guffawed. This was a lot more fun than shingling.

  “Come on, Josie. Give it up. We both know why you’re here.”

  “To hire myself a new handyman?”

  “Ouch.” As though wounded, he put a hand over his heart. “Take it easy. If you were my boss, I’d be filing a workers’ comp claim right now.”

  “What, for hurt feelings? Please. You’re obviously not keeping up with the job. You need to fix this lock.” She jangled the doorknob again. “There’s something wrong with it—like so many things around here. All things considered, I know I shouldn’t complain. And I obviously haven’t seen the whole place yet. But it looks as though I’ve got a regular money pit on my hands. I was really hoping…oh, never mind.”

  Her critical glance took in the house’s weedy flower beds, the run-down split-log siding, and the hole in the porch roof he’d been repairing when she’d arrived. Her obvious disregard for the last piece of Luke’s former legacy stung his pride.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He shoved both hands in his back pockets, then gazed up at the springtime skies. “Whatever you say. I’ll get right on fixing things.”

  Josie humphed and got back to the lock.

  She was inventive, he admitted to himself. Pretending to own the place—probably in the hope that he, as caretaker, would open the door for her himself—was a new one. Unfortunately for Josie, she didn’t have all the information Luke did. Beginning with the fact that he owned Blue Moon. And ending with the fact that he had no intention of opening the place to strangers until he was damned good and ready.

  Especially strangers who dissed the place.

  The estate had been closed up for a long time. His arrival in Donovan’s Corner had incited a certain amount of interest—there was no doubt about that. But Luke had plans of his own for the property. It was the key to everything he needed. Not even a va-va-voom redhead was changing that.

  No matter how cute she looked kicking the shit out of his front door.

  “Why is this locked, anyway?” she demanded. “You’re right here! Nobody’s getting in without you knowing it.”

  He shrugged. “I can’t always see who’s here when I’m up on the roof or out in the carriage house. Locking up when I’m working helps keep away trespassers.”

  Her glare suggested she thought he meant her. Luke couldn’t quite explain why he wanted to change her mind—or why he wanted to see her smile at him instead.

  “I get quite a few. Mostly local teenagers who used to use the place for keg parties. Before I got here.” Having revealed more than he meant to, he frowned. “Ready to give up yet?”

  “I never give up.” She bent and rubbed her toe, grumbling under her breath. “You probably changed the locks since Tallulah had the keys made, that’s all.”

  Josie straightened, glowering accusatorially at him for an instant. Then, as though fighting for patience, she swept her gaze over the pine forest bordering the house’s neglected grounds. A thick carpet of ponderosa needles buried what had formerly been a grassy lawn. Scrub oak seedlings encroached on the old croquet turf. Weeds—always the first to sprout when the sun turned warm—dotted the wide expanse like unruly cowlicks.

  Seeing the place through her disapproving perspective bugged Luke in ways he didn’t want to consider. So he swung his attention back to Josie instead…and was shocked to see tears gathering in her big green eyes.

  Considering what he knew of her so far, he guessed they were tears of frustration, not sadness. Still, he felt sorry for her. Maybe he should’ve shared the secret jiggle-turn-jiggle method of opening the front door. She was only trying to do her job.

  Her chin wobbled. Her fingers clenched harder on her key. She blinked—once, twice, several more times in succession, as though trying to hold back the waterworks. If she wasn’t careful, her fake eyelashes would cause a forty-mile-per-hour wind gust.

  “Hey, hey—” Alarmed, Luke covered the distance between them in three long strides, his steps loud on the porch’s floorboards. He touched her arm. “It’s not that bad. Look, who’s your boss? I’m betting it’s Linda at Round the Corner Realty. I’ll tell her you browbeat me into giving you a tour.”

  He reached past her to open the door.

  Sniffling, she whapped his arm out of the way. Then she dashed the tears from her eyes and elbowed in front of him.

  “I can do it,” she croaked.

  “Okay.” He held up both hands in surrender. Clearly, Josie wasn’t ready to admit defeat. “But it’s only fair you know going in. I’m not changing my mind about selling the place.”

  “How could you? You don’t own it. I do.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Look, determination is all well and good. But this is ridiculous.”

  She scoffed. Then she shoved her key in place one last time. Luke didn’t even try to stop her. What was it with him? Sure, she was cute. But cute didn’t compensate for crazy.

  Or did it? Reconsidering, he took one last look at the curve of her hips. Maybe if she was just a little nuts…

  At that instant, he remembered what Josie had said a minute ago—while he’d been distracted by all the cleavage on display as she bent to rub her toe: You probably had the locks changed since Tallulah had the keys made.

  He froze. Oh, shit. It was happening again.

  The lock clicked. For a heartbeat, Josie only stared at it in apparent disbelief—right along with Luke. Then she pushed open the door and breezed inside. Turning, she grinned in triumph.

  “Never mind. It looks as though I’ve got that tour covered.” She dropped her duffel bag from her shoulder—the one he’d thought contained cheesy knickknacks for sale or real estate contracts—and slung it possessively in the foyer. “Thanks, anyway.”

  Stunned, Luke watched as she gallivanted into his house, clearly intent on taking possession of the place. And that was how he discovered that, for the third time this year, his eccentric aunt Tallulah had apparently given away his one remaining estate to a total stranger.

  And it didn’t look as if this particular stranger was bailing out anytime soon, either.

  Chapter Three

  “Hey! Come again?” Luke demanded, clobbering the porch steps with his work boots as he followed Josie inside. “What was that about Tallulah?”

  Ignoring his question, Josie peered through the early morning sunlight at his house’s front parlor. Her gaudy shoes made only a muted clump clump as she meandered across the antique floorboards, past the tarp-covered furniture. She poked here and there, then lifted the lids of the authentic Craftsman-style benches built in the foyer. The tang of old cedar wafted out.

  “You must know Tallulah,” she said casually. “She’s your boss, right?”

  No. She’s my meddling, bullheaded aunt, who’s screwed up my life almost as much as— Hell. On the heels of that thought, Luke clamped his lips shut. Little Miss Rainbow Shoes wasn’t getting to him that easily. Not until he knew who she was and what she wanted with Blue Moon.

  He gave a noncommittal shrug. “How do you know her?”

 
; “Now that is a good story. Totally unreal.”

  Still in mid-inspection and with no obvious intentions of sharing that “good story,” Josie waved her hand. Her gesture showed off five fingers tipped by bubblegum pink nail polish. Nail polish like Barbie probably wore. If Barbie had fingernails. Luke didn’t know. Maybe she had little plastic fingernails? Jesus Christ. He was losing it.

  “A good story?” he prompted. “I’m all ears.”

  She tossed him a mischievous look. “Looks like you’re all muscle to me.”

  “Feeling is believing.”

  “I thought that was seeing.” She rounded the room and paused beside him, apparently absorbed in examining the wooden ceiling beams. Her gaze met his. “‘Seeing is believing.’”

  “You have your aphorisms. I have mine.”

  “Yours seem a little self-serving to me.”

  “No, ma’am.” Luke gave in to the grin he’d been holding back. He might be losing it, but he was having fun. “I believe in full service all the way.”

  “Hmmm. Giving? Or receiving?”

  “Either one. I hear it’s the thought that counts.”

  “Too bad.” Josie squeezed his biceps. Her eyebrows arched upward in apparent approval. “I’m more into doing than thinking.”

  Proving her point, she sashayed through the archway that led to the living room, leaving him with a choice view of her backside—and the feeling that he’d just stepped into the twilight zone. Luke stared stupidly at his arm. She’d touched him with no hesitation at all. With none of the game playing evident in the local women—most of whom wanted a husband, babies, and other unmentionables.

  Out of nowhere, the realization struck him. He’d just encountered the rarest, most bachelor-threatening kind of woman.

  The good-time girl.

  Most men believed she was a myth. Watching Josie pass by the archway again, lips pursed in concentration as she absent-mindedly fingered her tank top strap, Luke knew she was all too real. She was in his living room right now, letting her skimpy clothes slip seductively down her bare shoulder.