Stacey Joy Netzel Boxed Set

by Stacey Joy Netzel

  “We can’t do this.” He scrubbed a hand over his face and scrunched his eyes tight. “Not now. Not like this.”

  Chapter Six

  Loral sat for a moment, until confusion was swallowed by humiliation.

  “I’m sorry.” She edged toward the side of the bed, planning an escape to the couch in the living room.

  Jake lunged across the bed and caught her hand. “I’m the one who’s sorry. Believe me, if you’re willing, I would love to finish this right now.”

  If she was willing? She’d practically jumped him...was there really any doubt as to her...willingness?

  Still embarrassed over her lack of inhibition, she tried to free her hand. His grip tightened, making her wonder all over again why he’d called a heart-sinking halt.

  “But…?”

  “But, would you respect me in the morning?”

  A smile of disbelief escaped at his unexpected humor.

  And then, more seriously, he added, “Would your mother?”

  Oh my God, mom. Loral’s smile dimmed, accompanied by a resigned sigh. “You’re right.”

  “I wish I wasn’t.”

  His gruff declaration quickened her pulse all over again. She’d never made love to a man while under the same roof with her mother. Never met a man who’d even tempted her enough to overlook her parent in the next room.

  Obviously, she needed to add until now to that sentence. Because she suspected one more kiss from Jake and she’d forget her mother down the hall all over again.

  When he tugged on her hand, she let him draw her down beside him. Strong arms pulled her back against his chest before he snugged one forearm just below her breasts. That simple touch sent a tingle of anticipation to her core and she decided if she couldn’t kiss him, wrapped in his warm embrace wasn’t such a bad second choice.

  Proof of his desire pressed against her lower back as she stretched her legs along his. Knowing he still wanted her intensified the sensuous quiver inside. She wriggled her hips slightly to move closer and get the fit against his muscled thighs just right. A low, sexy, tortured growl sounded in her ear.

  “Stop that.”

  Loral stilled, heart pounding, but then she grinned to herself and closed her eyes.

  One minute she wondered how in the world she’d ever fall asleep with her body pressed so intimately to his, and the next thing she knew, she heard voices coming from the kitchen.

  As if Jake’s voice weren’t incentive enough to get out of bed, a deep breath inhaled the strong aroma of coffee and the heavenly scent of her mother’s homemade cinnamon rolls. Her mouth watered, but she’d never been a jump-out-of-bed kinda girl and she was oh-so-warm snuggled under the covers Jake must’ve drawn up during the night.

  Rolling over, she threw one arm over her eyes to block the sharp sunlight coming in from the opening in the curtains. Evidently, the winter storm had passed. Her mother and Jake weren’t speaking loud enough to make out their distinct words, but the low rumble of his sexy baritone stirred sensations deep inside.

  “But would you respect me in the morning?”

  A sleepy smile tugged the corners of her mouth upward. How could she not respect the man after that? And what would it be like to awaken to the sound of his sexy voice every day?

  Her imagination took over, reliving last night and taking events one step further as she drifted back to sleep. She sighed with longing just as a heavy weight depressed the mattress. A hand brushed her hair from her forehead, and then warm lips replaced the touch, pressing firmly against her skin.

  “Loral?”

  Jake’s whisper added a new dimension to her dream. His coffee-scented breath made her nose twitch. Her fantasy image of a shirtless Jake on her bed blurred.

  No. She didn’t want to wake up. She wanted another kiss, only on the lips this time. And other places.

  “Come back to bed,” she murmured.

  A soft chuckle caressed her cheek.

  “Wish I could, sleepyhead, but my cab’s finally here.”

  She blinked a few times, trying to distinguish between dream and reality. Turning her head, she saw the clock alongside her bed read nine-thirty-nine. Oh, wow, it was late. And he was leaving already? She should’ve gotten out of bed before, darn it.

  Awake now, she pushed up to sit against the headboard. Jake sat on the edge of the bed, dressed in his black clothes from the day before. He smiled at her, his teeth white against the darkness of his unshaven jaw. No—grinned was more like it.

  “Good morning,” she said.

  “Yes, it is.”

  Jake’s grin widened, giving her the distinct impression he enjoyed a private joke. As his gaze roved over her face, his delight made her self-conscious enough to wonder what her hair looked like. And her eye-makeup. Damn, she should’ve washed her face last night!

  Resisting the urge to run a hand through tangled curls and wipe beneath her eyes, she narrowed her gaze in suspicion. “Are my raccoon eyes that amusing?”

  Amber eyes locked with hers. “Nope. You’ve never looked more beautiful.”

  What a crock. She frowned at the lie only to have him laugh as if he held the world in the palm of his hand.

  “What the hell is so funny?” she grumbled, wishing for the dream man back.

  “You talk in your sleep.”

  “I do not.”

  His nod contradicted her statement, but the amusement in his expression bolstered her disbelief. “What’d I say?”

  He closed his eyes for a moment, a self-satisfied smile playing about those tempting lips. Her pulse skipped a beat, then raced when he leaned forward and lowered his voice.

  “I can’t repeat it with your mother in the next room.”

  He was such a shit. She did not talk in her sleep. Deciding to turn the tables, she faked a cringe of embarrassment, pressed her hand to her chest, and added what she hoped was a seductive note to her voice.

  “Was it really that bad?”

  “No…”

  One blink and he leaned forward to capture her lips in a possessive, mind-numbing, breath-robbing kiss. He pulled back and she sucked oxygen into her lungs as he grinned.

  “It was that good.”

  Oh, hell, maybe he was telling the truth. That kiss reminded her of the one they’d shared before they’d fallen asleep. And with his hard body molded to hers, who could blame her if she’d had erotic dreams? In fact, she specifically remembered that last one this morning had been hot enough to burn the sheets.

  Oh God. Her face flamed at the thought of what she may have said and she quickly flipped back to denial. “Yeah, right. Next you’ll tell me I snore.”

  He laughed, deep and sexy, just as an impatient horn sounded from the street below. “We’ll save that discussion for another morning. I have to go.”

  He leaned in again, but with forewarning this time, she shrank back and covered her mouth in a panic. “Morning breath.”

  Undeterred, he pulled her hand down and gave a repeat performance of a minute ago. Only slower, which gave her a chance to respond as the blood thrummed through her veins. Jake’s low mmm turned into a groan as the impatient horn blared again.

  With a wry grin that made her chest ache wonderfully, he pushed off the bed and headed for the door. Her jumbled mind scrambled for words to call out to his retreating back.

  “I don’t snore.”

  A laugh shook his shoulders and he kept on walking. “I’ll call you.”

  ***

  She should’ve asked, “When?”

  It might have sounded desperate, but at least then she wouldn’t be sitting at the kitchen table waiting for the phone to ring when what she really needed to do was find a job. She’d had to stay home right after her mother’s surgery, but now that the good days outnumbered the bad and improved each week, it was time Loral got back out there. Not to mention, they had nothing left to sell.

  With five of the sixteen hundred already spent on rent and her mother’s prescriptions coming due for
refill on Friday, what was left of the money from the jewelry would get them a couple days worth of groceries, but not much else.

  She briefly entertained the idea of calling Jake and asking for the name of that friend of his who owned a landscape business, but knew it’d only be an excuse to hear his voice. There wasn’t much call for landscape architects in the dead of winter and she refused to beg for a job. Or take one on charity just because Jake asked a favor.

  Besides, he said he’d call—and it’d only been one day. He was probably busy getting his car out of the ditch. He’d have to file a claim with his insurance company and then get estimates for repairs. Most likely he’d have to secure a rental until his vehicle was fixed. Not to mention he had a business to run. It wasn’t like she could expect him to rush to a phone because she was impatient.

  She stared at the phone with a scowl.

  “A watched pot never boils,” her mother advised from her chair at the sewing machine in the living room.

  Loral rolled her eyes before dropping her gaze back to the classifieds spread out before her on the kitchen table. “I’m looking for a job, Mom.”

  Even from across the room, her mother’s soft snort reached her ears. Ignoring her, Loral skimmed over the ads for waitresses. Unfortunately, none of the businesses looking for help were in areas that would guarantee her sufficient tips. Those kinds of places didn’t advertise in the classifieds, which meant a trip downtown, walking door to door with the slim chance of lucking out this close to Christmas. After the new year would’ve been better, but she couldn’t wait that long.

  The scrape of chair legs on the wood floor told her her mother was on her feet. A moment later a warm hand squeezed her shoulder.

  “You already called Benito’s?”

  “Yesterday afternoon.” She sighed. “Luca said to call back in February when one of his hostesses goes on maternity leave.”

  “Oh.”

  “He did offer to put in a good word for me down at The Grand, told me to ask for Marti, so I’ll head downtown after the lunch rush and see if they have anything open.”

  Her mother lowered herself to a chair, her gaze fixed on the newspaper spread across the table. “I don’t like the thought of you riding that bus downtown at night. Especially if you’ll be working late.”

  That reminded Loral of the accident the other night. If she’d been on that bus, if something had happened to her, what would her mother have done? Where would she go? Dismay clawed up her spine but she forced it away and pasted a smile on her face for her mom as perused the ads yet again.

  “I’ll be fine. Besides, that’s where the money is.”

  “I hate that you have to do this.”

  The tears in her mother’s voice brought Loral’s head up. “It’s okay, mom. You’re the one who taught me the value of working hard and earning my own way.”

  “No, dear.” Her mother covered her mouth, shaking her head, defeat in her eyes. “I hate that you’ve given up your dreams to take care of me.”

  Loral thought of her conversation with Jake, of the joy she’d felt just imagining the showroom garden behind her office in Dragonfly Dreams. The impossible dream. Her heart ached knowing she’d never sit in that chair behind the desk she placed in front of the window, but she’d never ever tell her mom that.

  “It’s not a big deal,” she insisted. “I don’t mind doing what has to be done.”

  “I know dear, and that’s why I hate it when things get so tough. I wish I could do more to help, so everything didn’t fall on your shoulders.”

  She reached out to take her mother’s hand. “Mom, don’t. We’re going to get through this and before you know it everything will be better. What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger, right?”

  Her mother shrugged.

  Loral tightened her fingers, offering her mother encouragement. “Remember what the doctor said.”

  She sniffed with an angry frown. “Hard to have a positive attitude when you’ve had to sell just about everything you own and your daughter is so buried with responsibility she can’t even have a life. I hate being a burden to you.”

  Tears sprang to Loral’s eyes, too. She slid off her chair, knelt next to her mother and put her arms around her. “You’re not a burden, mom. Never. Besides the fact that I love you, I know you’d do the same for me.”

  Her mother’s hug tightened. “I love you, too, sweetheart.”

  After a moment, they both pulled away with watery smiles. Loral stood with a final sniff and glanced toward the sewing machine.

  “How’s the quilt coming?”

  “It’ll be done tomorrow. Beth said she’s already got a buyer—a doctor’s wife who wants to give it to their pregnant daughter for Christmas—so I’ll take it to the hospital when we go on Wednesday.”

  “That’s great. See—we both do our parts.”

  Her mother gave a soft smile of agreement and Loral was happy to see she looked more convinced.

  “I mean it, mom. And, it’s one of your best.”

  “You think so?”

  “I do.”

  “I am pleased with the way the pattern turned out.”

  As her mother returned to the quilt, Loral folded up the newspaper and cleared her lunch dishes. After she’d washed and dried the dishes and then wiped down the counters, she went to see what she had in her closet that would make the best impression on the high-class restaurant managers.

  A white blouse and slim black skirt would have to do, paired with sheer black hose and heels that she’d slip on when she got downtown.

  She pinned her dark curls into a sophisticated twist on top her head, swiped some gloss across her lips, and grabbed her shoulder bag that was large enough to hold her tennies when she changed. Her ugly faded brown coat matched nothing, but she’d just stuff it in her bag the moment she walked in the door.

  “Good luck, honey,” her mother said as Loral opened the closet.

  “Thanks. I’m not sure when I’ll be—”

  Her voice died when she spotted Jake’s black leather jacket hanging in the closet next to her coat.

  “When you’ll be, what, dear?”

  “Back,” Loral finished quietly as she reached to finger the soft leather. One would think he’d forgotten it; she knew he’d left it on purpose. Her knight in supple black leather.

  A search of the pockets confirmed her suspicions. Empty.

  The warmth of his gesture warred with her pride. She wasn’t sure which won, but reasoned his black leather, extra large or not, certainly would look better than her thread-bare brown corduroy.

  And the added bonus, she thought as she slipped it on out in the hall, was she got to smell Jake during the long bus trip downtown.

  ***

  “I’ll need you Christmas Eve, too.”

  Not bothering to change out of her heels, Loral left The Wooden Iris with a schedule in hand, and hoped her mother would understand. It’d be the first Christmas Eve they wouldn’t spend together, but it wasn’t like she could’ve said no. The Grand had no open positions and the three restaurants she’d applied at after that weren’t hiring either.

  A check of her watch confirmed she had just over one hour to kill before her first night of training started. She could get a cup of coffee on the corner, or...she could go for a walk past Yore Timeless Treasures and see Jake.

  More than anything, she wanted to see him, talk to him, but her feet remained rooted to the sidewalk. The fact remained, he hadn’t called. If he’d decided against pursuing any type of a relationship, she didn’t want to come across as needy or desperate.

  While she hovered with indecision, his smile flashed in her mind’s eye.

  What was she worried about? Jake had never been anything but sincere with her. And the other morning…the heat in his eyes…that wasn’t something a person faked.

  She took one step, then another. Somehow she knew if she talked to him, he’d share her joy about getting the job so quickly, and cheer her up about havi
ng to work her favorite night of the year.

  Yore Timeless Treasures was located only six blocks away, so she hurried along the salt-roughened sidewalk, hugging his jacket tight against the December chill. Snow was predicted again, but not near as much as the other night.

  Stopping just outside the shop to give her aching feet a break, she spotted Jake through the window, helping a customer. The sight of him set her heart racing, especially after the intimacies they’d shared. She’d wondered about kissing him for so long, and the reality had put all her fantasies to shame. Her lips tingled with the memory, and she no longer needed his jacket for warmth.

  The first customer moved away, but before she could open the door, another customer approached him at the counter. Loral debated going in when he was clearly busy, but the lure of hearing his voice couldn’t be denied. When an elderly couple opened the door, she slipped in behind them.

  Not wanting to bother him, she eased toward the counter, hoping for a quiet moment to reveal her presence. She’d only take a few minutes and then head back to the restaurant. Maybe invite him to have a drink on her break?

  No. Definitely desperate. Damn, she should leave.

  Only he’d started explaining the history of an old pistol to the man at the counter and his smooth baritone flowed over her. Weak-willed, she paused to listen and found herself covertly admiring the snug fit of his gray knit sweater over his muscled chest and arms.

  Faded jeans were a surprise—she’d never seen him in jeans before—but as he turned to snag a calculator from a shelf behind him, she decided surprises could be good.

  Very, very good.

  A rustle of papers underscored by the scrape of a chair sounded from the office behind the counter.

  “Damn it, Jake, are you kidding me?”

  Loral’s eyebrows rose at the faceless, annoyed voice emanating from inside the office. The man who’d spoken came to stand in the open doorway. Jake finished his conversation with his customer, wished the man happy holidays as he walked away empty handed, then turned toward the door.

  “Roger, not in front of my customers,” Jake warned in a low voice Loral barely heard.