The Baby Bargain (Men of Maine Series Book 3)

by Diana Tobin

  “Why are you still here?” Even his voice was tired.

  “I was just heading up to the house for a hose to clean up.” She indicated the paint covered brushes in her hands.

  His gaze traveled from her to the building behind her. “You should’ve told me you wanted it painted. I’d have done it.”

  She jammed a hand on her hip, ignoring the paint she transferred from a brush. “When? The middle of the night when you should be sleeping? You told me to do what I wanted, so I did. Now, people can actually tell there’s a stand here.”

  “You really think some paint is going to make a difference?”

  “Four people stopped to see what I was doing.” She dug into a pocket and pulled out some bills which she held out to him through the window. “They picked berries while they were here.”

  “You better keep it,” he indicated the paint smeared bills. “It will help cover the cost of the paint.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Did you actually get any paint on the building, or just on yourself? The blue in your hair is a nice touch.”

  Lynn rolled up her eyes as if she’d be able to see. “Damn. I’m a mess.”

  “Get in. I’ll help you clean up.”

  “No. You’ll have paint in your truck.”

  “Wouldn’t be the worst thing in here.” He rubbed a hand across his eyes. “I’m hot, I’m tired, I stink, I’m starving, and am in no mood to argue. Sweetpea, get your pretty little ass in the truck, now.”

  JC had never spoken to her like that before. She wasn’t sure she liked it, but at the same time, she wondered if he was feeling guilty because she’d done work he thought he should have. It wasn’t that far up the driveway, but truthfully, tired as she was she wasn’t completely sure she could make it. Without a word she managed to open the door, leaving only a few blue fingerprints, then stood there staring at him. The truck was high and currently on an incline. Her legs couldn’t stretch that far, and if she set down her burdens she’d get more paint on his truck.

  JC muttered something she figured was better left unheard, put the truck in park, stomped on the emergency brake, and got out to come around to her side. Taking the pans and brushes from her paint-covered hands, he tossed the mess into the bed of the pickup and lifted her to the seat. “Stay.” Then, he was back in the driver’s seat, put the truck in gear, and pulled the tractor laden trailer up the long drive to the barn.

  “I’m not a dog,” she grumbled at his order.

  “No, you’re not,” he agreed, stopping the truck near the barn. “A dog would’ve been excited to see me, licked my face, and jumped into the truck without being told.”

  Later, she couldn’t have said what prompted her actions, other than some perverse need to rile JC for a change. Lynn slid across the seat, leaned into him, and licked his jaw. “Mmm, salty. And, you do smell.” He smelled of grass, hot sun, and all male.

  JC turned to stone at the touch of her tongue on his skin. Before she had a chance to reconsider her actions, he grabbed her and kissed her, his body following hers down on the seat.

  She’d had to fight hard to ignore her reaction to his nibbling the other day when he’d brought her out to see the stand. When he’d slid the straps of her dress down, all she could think of was having his hands on her flesh.

  It had been six weeks since JC had kissed her, and she’d thought it potent at the time. Never had she been kissed like this. As if he would devour her whole. As if she was the last drink of water in the desert. As if he couldn’t go another minute without claiming her.

  He lifted his lips a breath from hers as he stared down at her. Lynn blinked. “Does that mean you’re glad to see me?” Her words were little more than a whisper. She felt his quick grin more than saw it. Then he pressed his face where neck met shoulder and opened his mouth, licking and biting her gently.

  “Damn! You taste like salty lilacs and paint.” Why the hell was that so arousing? Five minutes ago he was dog tired. Now, he was coming back to life. At least part of his anatomy was feeling lively and wanted nothing more than to meet up with a certain part of her anatomy. He groaned and lifted up a bit before he stripped off her clothes and began rutting like an animal. He smoothed a hand over her short hair and grimaced. “Did you use your head for a paint brush?”

  Her hands flew to her head. “Do I really have that much in my hair? Oh. Ewww.”

  She was truly a mess, and he couldn’t believe she’d painted the veggie stand herself. His ex-wife couldn’t stand the sight of it and his mother had never set foot in it. Yet, this little sprite took it upon herself to spruce the place up to attract more customers. She was something special.

  He lowered his head to kiss her again. Ignoring paint splatters that might be on her face, he pressed kisses to her nose, her eyes, along her jaw, before returning to her mouth and loving it with his. She wiggled under him, then palmed his backside pulling him tight against her.

  JC groaned, fearing he’d explode on the spot.

  With the last bit of strength he possessed, he slowly pulled away from Lynn, opened the door and slid to the ground. He reached back into the truck to pull her out to stand in front of him. “I—uh…we—”

  “I’ve got to clean those brushes. I need them tomorrow to finish up.”

  “You don’t need to be doing any more work like that.” He got the painting tools from the bed of his pickup.

  “Are you firing me just as I’m getting started?” She jammed her hands on her hips.

  “Is this that pixie attitude you were telling me about?” he grinned thinking she was the prettiest little mess he’d ever seen.

  She snatched the brushes from his hand. “Tell me where the hose is.”

  “Careful,” he warned. “I’ll turn it on you just to cool down that ’tude of yours.” The image of her soaking wet, her clothes clinging to her curves, had him biting back another groan. “There’s a sink in the mud room.” He steered her to a door at the side of the house and reached in to flip on the light inside.

  Now that he could clearly see her, JC wondered if she’d just dipped herself in the paint bucket and leaned up against the building. How could one little person get so much paint on herself? “Honey? Leave that stuff. You need to get in the shower before you spread any more of that paint around.”

  Lynn looked down at the splotches of blue and white covering her jeans. “Is it really that bad?”

  His lips were twitching and his eyes were filled with laughter. “You’ll end up with it in your car and who knows where. It’s my property you painted. The least I can do is make sure you’re cleaned up and fed. Leave your shoes here and hop in the shower.” He toed off his boots.

  “I don’t have anything else to wear,” she protested.

  “I’ll find you something.”

  “I’m not wearing your ex-wife’s clothes.” Lynn folded her arms across her full bust.

  “You’ll have to make do with something of mine.” He turned her to another doorway. “Let me show you where the bathroom is.”

  JC walked in front of her, so naturally her eyes went to his magnificent…scenery. She frowned at the paint on the back of his jeans until she realized it was hand prints. Her handprints. “Um, JC.” He stopped and looked over his shoulder, his amusement evident at the sight of her. She smiled at him. “This is really nice of you.”

  ○◊○

  JC left her to clean up while he grabbed a pair of his boxers and a tee shirt for her to wear. He’d have preferred her in nothing at all, but thought that might be pushing things a bit at this point. He opened the bathroom door to leave the clean clothes for her. He didn’t even try to keep his gaze from going to the shower door where he could see her silhouette behind the wavy glass and steam.

  They could conserve water if he got in with her. The thought made him hard. The water would run ice cold before he got his fill of her if they showered together. Still, he took a step forward, determined to leave if she told him no.

  He didn’t get the c
hance when his bare foot stepped on her paint soaked shirt. “Damn it!”

  “JC?”

  “Uh, yeah. Just leaving you some, uh, things to wear.” He scooped up Lynn’s discarded clothes, stepped out of the steamy room, and shut the door, tightly. He smoothed a hand down the front of his fly. “Down boy.” His toes left white prints on the wooden floor.

  He continued cursing as he stomped down the hall to the washing machine where he threw in Lynn’s clothes and added his own. Grabbing a handful of paper towels, JC stopped to clean up his messy footprints. If Lynn came out and found him stark naked he’d give her what they both needed.

  The water shut off, but Lynn didn’t emerge. Cursing himself for a fool, JC went upstairs to take his own shower. A very cold one.

  Returning downstairs in nothing but a pair of worn jeans, JC found Lynn in the kitchen making coffee. One look at her in his clothes, knowing she was naked underneath, had him deciding he should’ve gone with a hot shower for all the good the cold did him.

  Two steps would have her in his arms. Two more, and he could place her on the table, slide those shorts down over her long gorgeous legs, and be buried deep inside her before either could take another breath.

  He was halfway to her, intent on making the images in his mind come to life, when her voice penetrated his thoughts. “Huh? What?” JC blinked as if coming awake.

  “I-I hope you don’t mind me poking around in your kitchen.” She was gripping the counter behind her like a lifeline. “I can cook. If you’re hungry. Of course, you’re hungry. You’ve been working all day. You sit down and I’ll…Sorry. It’s your house. I shouldn’t act like I belong here. I’ll just grab my dirty clothes and get out of your hair.”

  “No! Stay.” His heart pounded in his chest. He could picture her belonging in his house. In his bed. “Food would be good. If you don’t mind. I’ll—uh, be right back.” He rushed from the room and kept going until he stood on the granite slab that was his back door step. It still held the heat of the day and did nothing to cool the heat of his body.

  What kind of idiot was he?

  He was a horny idiot needing to get laid. He wasn’t looking for someone to share forever. He’d tried that and it had been a colossal failure. He wasn’t looking at Lynn and thinking she was The One. He was looking at her as someone he could be friends with. Friends with benefits. That’s all. That would be good. Great, in fact. He just needed to make sure she understood that was all he could offer.

  Dragging in a deep breath, he ignored the slight ache deep in his gut and went inside to be sure they were on the same page.

  ○◊○

  Slowly, Lynn released her grip on the counter. One look at JC and she’d gripped the counter to keep herself from climbing all that muscled flesh and having her way with him. His farmer’s tan did nothing to detract from the bulge of his arms, shoulders, and chest. A chest covered with blond hair arrowing down to the unbuttoned jeans hugging his hips. If the front of his jeans didn’t prove he was glad to see her, then he’d stuffed his pockets. Her fingers itched to find out the truth.

  Then, JC looked like he’d been struck with an axe before he bolted out of the room.

  Did he think she was hinting she wanted to stay here with him? Okay, she did want to stay with him. Not forever. She’d thought she was working on a forever with the man of her dreams only to discover it was all a sham and she’d been a fool. Forever worked for some people; she didn’t think she was one of them.

  She’d like to be friends with JC. In fact, she thought they’d made great strides in that direction. Was it so terrible to lust after a friend? Weren’t friends supposed to do things together? Share experiences, thoughts, and desires? Lynn had never lusted after any of her female friends and she hadn’t had enough male friends to test out the theory. There was something about JC that made her want to try…everything.

  She wouldn’t fall in love with JC. But it would be so nice to have a friend she could trust. Someone who wasn’t using her to get himself through school and into a high paying job for which he wasn’t qualified, like rat faced Donald Chyster. Nor would JC be like Rebecca, using her to help with expenses, all the while sleeping with Lynn’s man.

  If JC was agreeable, they could see other people, but could also enjoy each other, in all ways, while it suited them both. If either of them found someone they were serious about, they could remain friends without the physical aspect of their relationship.

  Lynn turned the strips of bacon frying as her thoughts swirled. She whipped the eggs in a bowl, convinced she’d come up with a good plan. Now, to convince JC.

  “Smells good,” he said behind her.

  “Oh! I didn’t hear you come in.” She’d pressed a hand to her chest when he spoke. “Listen, I’ve been thinking—”

  “Lynn, I wanted—”

  They both spoke at the same time, then broke off.

  JC went to a cupboard, got out two mugs, and poured coffee into each. “Go ahead. You looked deep in thought.”

  Lynn laughed as she placed the bacon on a paper towel-lined plate. “You mean, you saw smoke from me thinking so hard.”

  Instead of laughing, as she expected, JC frowned. “Don’t put yourself down like that.”

  She shifted her shoulders in a slight shrug as she poured the egg mixture over the onions and mushrooms she had sautéed in a pan. “Micki used to tell me I was thinking so hard she could see smoke from the wheels turning. Seems I didn’t do enough hard thinking the past few years.” She sprinkled cheese over the eggs before placing a cover on the pan.

  JC sipped at his coffee, his gaze intent on her. “What had you thinking so hard?”

  “You. Us.” She bent to pull a pan of biscuits from the oven. “Life. My choices.” She kept her back to him as she removed the biscuits from the pan to a plate. “I could use a friend, JC. Not that I’m not glad to be back with Micki and my family, and we’re learning things about each other that either got over looked or pushed aside years ago. I haven’t made the best choices as to friends, and—”

  “Boyfriends?”

  She checked the eggs, then placed the biscuits and bacon on the table. “Right.” She pulled out plates and silverware as if she cooked in his kitchen every day. “I’m not asking you to be my boyfriend. I know we were never exactly friends in school.”

  “That’s my fault,” he stated. “I was a horny teenage boy, more interested in getting into your pants.”

  Lynn stopped moving around and turned to face him. “I’m honestly not sure how I resisted all those years ago.”

  “Now you tell me.” He grinned, and she felt butterflies dance in her belly.

  “What I’m trying to say is I don’t think I’d resist now. If you were still interested.”

  He set down his cup and moved to her. “If you haven’t figured out I’m interested, I’m doing something wrong.” He tucked a short strand of hair behind her ear.

  She leaned into his touch, her eyes nearly closing, before she pulled back and turned to the stove. “Th-the thing is,” she gulped in air as she split the omelette, placing a portion on each plate. “I’d really like for us to be friends, if that’s possible.”

  JC waited until her hands were empty before placing a finger under her chin and lifting her face to his. “You don’t think we’re friends now?”

  She stared into his beautiful blue eyes and resisted throwing herself into his arms. “I think we’ve made a good start. No matter what direction we go, I’d like to make sure we remain friends. I-I’m not looking for forever.”

  He frowned, but nodded his head. “Neither am I.” Air rushed out of her like a deflating balloon. JC gave her a quick hug. “Let’s eat since you went to all this work. We can discuss our situation later.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  She’d been starving while she put together a meal for the two of them; now she was having difficulty swallowing. Had she really just propositioned JC Benjamin? Not actually, but she’d hinted at their rela
tionship heading that way because more often than not, Lynn found herself thinking about him. Thinking about running her hands over his hard-muscled body. Feeling the weight of him on her as he kissed her and stroked her and buried himself deep…

  Lynn jumped up from the table and went to the sink where she filled a glass with water and gulped it down.

  “You okay?”

  “Um, yeah.” She didn’t turn around. “I-I burnt my tongue.” Burnt her brain cells, was more like it. Thankful the tee shirt covered the heat of her chest if not her face, she returned to her seat. She ignored JC’s quizzical look as best she could.

  “Are you planning to open the stand tomorrow? I would’ve painted it had you said something.”

  “You told me I could do what I wanted with it,” she said defensively. “You should’ve told me what my limits were.”

  He placed a hand over the one gripping her fork tightly. “When I asked you to take over the stand I didn’t expect you to work yourself to death. I should have thought about fixing it up and done it before you ever saw it. I pictured you spending a quiet day crafting, or whatever.”

  “I’m not some fairy tale princess waiting for a knight to come rescue her from life.”

  “You should be,” he nearly shouted. JC ran a hand through his still damp hair and stared at her. “No, you’re not a princess, even though you deserve to be treated like one. You’re a flesh and blood woman with a terrific attitude.”

  Lynn could only gawk at him. She wasn’t sure if she should be confused, flattered, or insulted. From what little he’d said, it sounded like JC’s mother and ex-wife had expected to be treated as royalty, and had been until each had left the farm, and their men, behind. Her eyes narrowed as she decided insult won. “Now, see here, James Cotton. You’ve no call to be insulting me.”

  “Insulting you? You call me by my full name, which is an insult in itself, and after I tell you how wonderful you are. What the hell’s wrong with you?”

  “Wrong with me? You’re the one with the problem—”