Chapter Seventeen
He exploded from his chair, and without a word turned his back to her. She could see him fiddling with the coffeemaker on the counter behind him. Finally, without looking her direction he asked, “Do you want some coffee?”
“Coffee? No, thanks.” Her stomach was already doing somersaults. It wasn’t as if she’d had much practice at this sort of thing. Somehow, she couldn’t picture Genna Stanley sitting down across a desk from him trying to present a logical case for why he should sleep with her. She imagined her presentation would be a bit more physical, something along the lines of a strip tease and a lap dance.
Jake finally sat back down with a mug and took a sip.
Thinking he might have misunderstood her intentions, she pressed on. The lack of enthusiasm on his part was disheartening to say the least, but she wasn’t surprised that he’d have some resistance to the idea at first. He just needed to see why it was such a good idea. Trying for an air of sophistication she didn’t feel, she cleared her throat and smiled. “So, as I was saying. I don’t see any good reason not to finish what we started.”
He removed his eyeglasses and threw them on the desk. “Look, Marla Jean—”
“Hear me out, Jake. I’m not asking you to be my steady or anything. You don’t have to worry about me turning into some clinging vine that wants all your time and attention.”
“Whoa, hold up there, missy. Let me get this straight. You’re saying you’re only interested in sex?” The intensity in his eyes made her fidget in her seat, but it was out there now.
“Exactly.” A nervous laugh escaped her throat. Maybe she was better at this than she thought, and maybe this was actually the perfect way to approach him. Sitting in his office in the middle of the day. It came across as more businesslike, more woman of the world—a no strings, no hearts and flowers, no messy entanglements arrangement between two consenting adults.
“Jesus, Marla Jean.”
“I know how you feel about commitment and relationships, and believe me, the last thing I need right now is anything resembling romance.”
“So it would just be a service I provided.” The edge to his voice was sharp enough to draw blood.
His attitude brought her up short, and she bristled at the implication that she’d be using him somehow. “You didn’t seem to have a problem with the idea of ‘servicing’ me when you had me pinned to the bed the other night.”
“Hey now. You were all riled up, and I was trying to calm you down. Things got out of hand, and okay, that was my fault.”
“Is that what they’re calling it these days? I believe I’m beginning to feel riled up all over again, Jake. Why don’t we clear off your desk and continue that conversation right now?”
He popped out of his seat again like he’d been goosed. “Come on, Marla Jean, knock it off. You’re Linc’s kid sister.” He turned his back on her once more, this time dumping the contents of his mug in a small sink. Whipping around to face her, he added, “And the other night you were loopy on pain medication. I shouldn’t have taken advantage.”
When she’d imagined this meeting, she honestly hadn’t expected him to take so much convincing. And she was getting a little peeved. “I’m not loopy now. And suddenly I’m Linc’s kid sister again? How convenient. As you pointed out, I’m a grown woman, for God’s sake. And damn it, I should get a say in who does or doesn’t take advantage of me.”
“Well, it’s not going to be me,” he said forcefully.
“Or Donny Joe, or any other man in the neighboring counties if you and my brother have your way,” she muttered.
He took a step in her direction. “So, is that what this is all about? You’re still mad because I pulled you out of Donny Joe’s truck?”
She threw up her hands in disgust. “Exactly, Jake. You’ve certainly got me all figured out.”
He shook his head. “Not by a long shot.”
“I’ll spell it out for you then. I thought we could get busy, have a roll in the hay, fool around, get to know each other in the biblical sense, but apparently I read the signals wrong when you had your tongue down my throat Friday night.”
They glared at each other for a minute without blinking. Then he drew a hand over his face and marched around the desk. Dragging an extra chair up beside hers, he sat down and said earnestly, “Marla Jean, this is a really bad idea for all kinds of reasons.”
“Don’t sugarcoat it, Jake. If you’re not interested, just say so.”
“Right now, you think this is what you want—mindless sex to get you through a few lonely nights. But you’re not the kind of woman who could be happy with that kind of arrangement.”
“These days you don’t know me well enough to know what would make me happy, Jake, and besides, it’s been good enough for you all these years, hasn’t it?” She was being sarcastic, but his nearness was playing havoc with her senses. He smelled like soap and sawdust, and the faint bristle of whiskers shadowed his jaw. Her gaze fell to the purple bruise under his eye. Without weighing the cost, her hand reached out to touch him, gently tracing his cheekbone. “Does it hurt much?”
“Nah, you hit like a girl.” His brown eyes flared for an instant, and she thought he might kiss her, but the moment passed and he pulled away. “Listen to me, Marla Jean, I’m flattered, and I’m tempted, and Lord knows I’m going to hate myself the minute you walk out that door. You are a fine-looking, desirable woman, but what you need to do, when you’re ready, is find yourself a nice guy and make a good life with him.”
“I had a nice guy and a nice life. He dumped me for your aunt, remember?”
At the mention of Bradley he seemed to get irritated all over again. He stood up. “You expect me to believe the fact that your ex-husband just told you he’s getting remarried doesn’t have anything to do with why you chose this particular moment to show up at my office?”
She inhaled and closed her eyes. Letting the air out in one big gust, she answered, “Maybe it does. I don’t know. I’m tired of overanalyzing every move I make. I only know the other night when we were kissing I didn’t once compare you to Bradley or anything else for that matter. For once I was simply feeling, and God help me, it felt amazing.” She got to her feet with as much dignity as she could muster.
His face was like a closed book. “I don’t know what else to say, Marla Jean.”
“You don’t have to say anything. Really. I just spent the better part of last year getting over a man who didn’t want me, so I’m not about to spend my time convincing you of what a great bargain I’m offering. I still think we would have been good together, so I’m going to consider it your loss and move on.” She grabbed her crutches and made her way to the door.
Jake got up and followed her. “Marla Jean—”
“Don’t worry about it, Jake. I’m not upset. Let’s file it away in the lousy idea department and move on. I’ve had plenty of those lately. Someday I’m sure I’ll thank you for saving me from myself, but right now I’m going across the street to the diner and see how much pie I can eat before Dad closes the shop for the day.”
He called after her, “Do you still want the name of my realtor?”
She didn’t bother answering as she swept out of the office. She was already trying to decide between chocolate cream or lemon meringue. Neither one of those had ever let her down.
Jake watched her go. Just stood there staring at the door as it closed behind her. He felt like kicking something, and luckily there weren’t any truck tires handy. The chair beside him was handy, though, and he hurled it, watching it scuttle across the floor and topple over on its side in a fetal position. He didn’t feel any better for having defeated the chair.
He stomped back over to his desk and slumped into his seat. The top of his head threatened to blow off. That woman. Why should he feel like some kind of cad for not sleeping with her? He was being noble, damn it. Noble. And she had the nerve to act insulted. He was the one that should feel insulted.
&nbs
p; He wasn’t going to be a stand-in for her ex-husband. Not now, not ever. And if sex was really all she wanted from him, then she wasn’t the woman he thought he knew. Marla Jean had worn her heart on her sleeve since she’d been six years old, and this kind of calculated, dry, emotionless arrangement wasn’t in her nature. At least it hadn’t been before Bradley and Aunt Libby taught her that caring too much was a risky proposition.
Maybe she thought they were two of a kind now. He’d demonstrated loudly and often to anyone who would listen that mushy, emotional, exposed, overwrought relationships weren’t for him. He picked up a book from his desk and threw it across the office watching the spine bounce off the wall and fall, pages open, to the floor. He was the last person on God’s green earth she should emulate. The very last person.
A few days later Marla Jean stepped onto the porch of her parents’ house and inhaled the crisp October afternoon. She was all ready to give her new walking boot a trial run. After breakfast her mother had driven her to her doctor’s appointment and—hallelujah—he’d said she could graduate from the crutches. Just in time, too. Her armpits felt like someone had scrubbed them with cactus and finished them off with a vinegar poultice. If she never saw those instruments of torture again it would be too soon. And she was sick to death of being cooped up inside the four walls of the house doing nothing.
She looked around the old neighborhood. It was the middle of the afternoon, in the middle of the week, and everything was quiet. Then the sound of an electric saw cut through the peaceful day.
She looked across the street at the old Jacobson house. Jake must be working. His truck wasn’t parked in the driveway, but an old blue Jeep was there instead. How many vehicles did that man own, anyway?
She hadn’t seen him since the encounter at his office. Maybe she should feel humiliated about the way he’d reacted to her blunt proposition, but she refused to let him, or any other man, make her feel bad about herself anymore. And she’d thought long and hard about his accusation that she was reacting to Bradley’s announcement that he was marrying Libby.
Maybe there was some truth to it, but it certainly wasn’t the whole story. Besides if a man wanted sex, for whatever reason, he went out and found it. Why should she be any different? I am woman, hear me roar. Didn’t she sound bold?
But regardless of the drama, she still wanted his help finding a house. He was always buying them and fixing them up. That was what she wanted to do—find an affordable house with good bones and transform it into a place of her own. Jake was the logical person to turn to. She was just going to have to swallow her pride and ask for his help.
And maybe, if she made the first move, it would get them beyond any lingering awkwardness that might remain since she asked him to screw her brains out on top of his desk. In broad daylight. In the middle of a workday. It still sounded like a good idea.
But she wasn’t going to force herself on the man, for God’s sake. She had some pride, after all, and the sooner he realized it, the sooner things would get back to normal.
She was a little wobbly going down the steps but then she got the hang of things and started down the sidewalk at a good clip. She’d walked up and down this street a million times growing up, and the cracked, uneven sidewalk was as familiar as her own face. The place where the cement sank down just past the driveway, the buckled spot on the other side of the old oak tree, the handprints Lincoln and Jake dared her to make the year the city replaced the old sidewalk with new ones.
As she passed Mrs. Reece’s house next door with its sunny yellow trim and mum-filled flower beds, Pooky barked at her from the front window, bouncing up and down like he was testing a trampoline. “Good afternoon, Pooky, you little darling,” she sang out. As long as the dog was locked securely inside her neighbor’s house, she would greet him like they were long-lost pals.
As she crossed the street to Jake’s house, she could now hear hammering coming from the back yard. She walked around to the side and opened the wooden gate, letting out a “Hello” as she rounded the corner.
He was standing high on a ladder, replacing a board. A bandana was wrapped around his forehead, sunglasses covered his eyes, and he wasn’t wearing a shirt.
It was quite a sight. She might’ve re-filed him back into the category of safe and unattainable, but still, it was quite a sight.
The smooth, sun darkened skin of his back flexing with each whack of the hammer. Impressively muscled arms, corded and bulging. A rivulet of sweat wending its way down his neck, past his shoulder blade, sliding down to the dimple at the small of his back. She watched patiently, knowing it would soon come to the end of its journey when it met up with the waistband of his jeans.
“Can I help you?”
Realizing the hammering had stopped, she was embarrassed to have been caught staring. He was silhouetted against the sky, but now that he’d twisted around on the ladder to face her, one thing was very clear. He wasn’t Jake. Instead it was a man who seemed amazingly Jake-like. They were built the same. They both had black hair and once he removed his sunglasses she could see he had brown eyes. But this man, the man now scrambling down the ladder and ambling toward her, had a lightness about him that Jake had never possessed, not even as a young boy.
She didn’t even pretend not to stare. “I’m sorry, I was looking for Jake.”
He pretended deep disappointment. “Will I do instead?”
Marla Jean thought he would probably do very nicely for most things, but out loud she said, “I’m afraid not, Mr…. ?”
“Oh, excuse me, ma’am. I’m Theo Jacobson, Jake’s younger brother.” He held out his hand.
Shocked by the introduction, she took his hand and shook it. “Really? I didn’t know Jake had a younger brother.”
“I’m a well-kept secret.” He winked, but Marla Jean wasn’t sure he was kidding. After all, she’d known Jake most of her life. If he had a brother, wouldn’t she know about it?
“So, is Jake inside?” She gestured toward the back door of the house.
“No, he went to town. Said he’d be at his office doing paperwork most of the afternoon. I’d be glad to tell him you came by, Ms…. ?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m Marla Jean, Marla Jean Bandy from across the street, two doors down. I’ll just try to catch Jake later.”
Theo’s face lit up with recognition. “You’re Marla Jean? Lincoln’s little sister?”
She smiled at his enthusiasm. “That’s me. The one and only.”
“Jake talks about your family all the time. I feel like I already know you.”
“Uh oh. Should I be worried?” She didn’t bat her eyelashes, but it was a close call.
He took a step toward her. “Maybe I can buy you dinner tonight, and we can discuss it?”
She stood her ground. “Wow, you move fast.”
“Too fast?” His grin said he didn’t think so.
“Not necessarily,” she said merrily. “But I already have plans tonight.” Her plans included her mother’s meatloaf and working on a jigsaw puzzle with her dad, but she didn’t want to appear too eager. Beside it would give her a chance to grill Lincoln for details about this Theo person first.
Jake’s brother. She still couldn’t quite take it all in.
“Well then, how about Friday night? A little dining, a lot of dancing. Take pity on the new guy in town.”
She looked down at her walking boot. “I’m not too light on my feet these days.”
“But you have to eat?” He looked hopeful.
She took a moment to consider him, smiling the whole time, enjoying herself. “Maybe I should take you to Lu Lu’s.”
“Lu Lu’s?”
“Yeah, it’s a bar with decent food and dancing. And if I can’t manage, I don’t think you’ll have any trouble finding other dance partners. There’s nothing the women around here love more than taking pity on the new guy in town.”
He put his hand over his heart. “If you can’t manage, Marla Jean, I won’t care ab
out dancing.”
She started walking toward the gate. “You should save some of that charm for Friday night.”
He caught up and pushed the gate open for her. With a big grin he asked, “Then it’s a date? What time should I pick you up?”
“Let’s say seven o’clock.”
“Seven o’clock it is.”
She spotted the beat up blue Jeep sitting in the driveway. If it had belonged to Jake, he would probably have named it after some woman, a practical, down-to-earth woman, more than likely. Thelma maybe, or Agnes. “By the way, Theo, do you name your cars?”
“No, I can’t say that I do.” Theo glanced at the Jeep and then back at her. “Is that a problem?”
She shook her head dismissively. “Not at all. In fact, I’m pleased as punch to hear it.” Pushing off on her walking boot, she started down the driveway.
He looked puzzled and shouted after her. “Do you want a ride? I should have offered sooner.”
“That’s very gallant of you, Theo, but I need the exercise. I’ll see you Friday night.”
Chapter Eighteen
Marla Jean bit her bottom lip in concentration as she spread purple nail polish on the big toe of her right foot. A loud rapping on the front door caused her to jump and smear the color all over the cuticle. “Son of a sea biscuit,” she snarled. It was only six o’clock, and Theo wasn’t supposed to pick her up until seven. He better not be a whole hour early. She was still in sweats and had rollers in her hair.
Besides that, it hadn’t been easy to situate herself so she could reach the toes sticking out of her walking boot. She’d finally taken the confounded thing off and didn’t want to stop to get the door with her toes half done. “Mom,” she bellowed with the grace of a fishwife, “somebody’s at the front door.”
Only silence followed her earsplitting call for help. She knew her father was out in the garage working on an old lawn mower. Dad gum it. There came another knock combined with an impatient ringing of the doorbell while she huffed and puffed to get herself up from the couch and hippity hopped her way across the living room floor.
Ain't Misbehaving (9781455523801) Page 15
