Rules of the Game

by Lori Wilde

  They did not know each other well enough. That was the problem. They had no familiar ground, no safe place in which to retreat and reclaim their separate identities. They joined too swiftly, accelerated too rapidly to that cosmic place, and they were in uncharted territory.

  A sense of loss set in. As though they’d stolen something from each other.

  She was scared. More frightened then she’d been in a very long time. In an instant she was four years old again, all alone in the house, and there were people knocking at the door, coming to take her away.

  Quickly, she turned her face from him, jumped up, pulled on her jeans, yanked on her shirt.

  And then Jake got up, reached out a soothing, hand, pulled her against his chest, tenderly kissed the top of her head. “Shh, shh, it’s all right. I’ve got you. Nothing can hurt you now.”

  Nothing, she thought, except you.

  What now?

  Jake stood holding her.

  After they’d come, he’d immediately sensed the shift in her from trusting lover to fearful stranger. That was okay. A waltz. He knew how to dance. He tightened his grip around her, just held her. He’d stand here all day and all night long if that was what she needed.

  She was his only concern.

  Her.

  Jodi.

  She stepped from his embrace, that independent tilt to her head again, a smile that said, I’m okay, I’ve got this, didn’t mean to flake out on you tacked to her face. “I’m starved,” she said. “You hungry?”

  Part of him wanted to pin her to the spot and make her talk about the emotions she’d just been through, but hell, he didn’t want to dig around in his own feelings right now, so he said, “I could eat.”

  In a regular relationship, he would take her to dinner. But she wanted to keep this all about sex. Wanted their affair to stay secret. They couldn’t risk going out and being seen. Even though Stardust was thirty miles away, they could run into someone Jodi knew.

  “What do you have in the fridge?” she asked. “I could whip us up some lunch.”

  “I’ve been eating out,” he admitted.

  “So no groceries?”

  “Not much.”

  “Let’s see what you’ve got. I’m pretty well a miracle worker in the kitchen.”

  “Honestly, all I have are Cheerios and milk. But if you want cereal for lunch, I’m game.”

  “Ugh, no.” She gave a full body shudder. “I hate Cheerios. Call for pizza?”

  “Sure. What do you like on yours?”

  “Pepperoni and onions. Extra cheese.”

  “Hey.” He grinned. “Me too.”

  “Thin crust?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Thirty minutes later, they were sitting at the kitchen bar eating pizza. “Cute house,” she said.

  “Maura picked it out,” he said, surprised at how easily he spoke of his dead wife. That was progress. For the longest time he didn’t bring up her name because it hurt too much. But he was healing and it felt good to talk about her, especially when Jodi seemed interested. “She loved the Craftsman style.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’m not picky.”

  “She’d be pleased with what you did with the place.” Jodi inhaled deeply. “I love the smell of fresh paint. And the color you chose for the walls, Gray Owl, it’s very popular right now. Should appeal to the widest number of buyers.”

  “How do you know the name of the color?” he asked.

  “I have Home Depot on speed dial. I renovate a boxcar a year.”

  “You still do all the work yourself?”

  She nodded. “Me and Ham.”

  “I don’t think Ham likes me.”

  “He doesn’t dislike you,” she said, although her tone of voice sounded if she didn’t quite believe that. “He’s just very protective of me.”

  “I like him for that.”

  “How much renno are you gonna do?”

  “I want to knock out a wall in the bedroom and expand the master bathroom. Saved it for last. Soon as that’s done the house goes on the market.”

  “Hey,” she said. “I swing a mean sledgehammer if you need any help.” She flexed her biceps. She was so damn cute.

  “You mean it?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’d love the help, but won’t Ham miss you at the B&B?”

  “I told him I’d be gone all day.” She giggled and the sound lit up his heart. “Wedding-related stuff.”

  “That’s a great excuse.”

  “Rest assured I’ll be milking it dry.” She winked.

  “Do we really want to spend our time working when we could be doing other things?” He wriggled his eyebrows.

  “I can’t distract you from your work. If I’m going to be hanging out over here, I might as well help. Wanna start now?”

  He leaned over to brush his lips against hers. “Maybe in a little bit.” He kissed her again. “After …”

  CHAPTER 18

  Jodi Carlyle’s Wedding Crasher Rules: Go for the gusto.

  Three hours later, after they had sex on the kitchen counter, and started knocking down a wall in the master bedroom, they took a water break.

  “Wow,” he said, eyeing the rubble of sheetrock that was once a wall, and swiping his sweaty forehead with the hem of his T-shirt, guy-style. “You weren’t kidding. You’re impressive with a sledgehammer.”

  “Toldja. I’ve renovated eight boxcars, two cabooses, and an engine.” She raised the sledgehammer over her head in a triumphant gesture. “Word to the wise. Don’t ever tackle an engine renovation. It’s a nightmare.”

  “Remind me never to make you mad.” He stared at her in awe.

  “I use my powers for good not evil,” she joked.

  He reached over and squeezed her biceps. “Popeye’s got nothing on you.”

  His touch sent familiar heat wavering over her. She met his eyes and he met hers and she knew exactly what he was thinking. “No.” She laughed. “No.”

  “Why not?” he coaxed, moving his hand up her biceps to her shoulder and then on to her collarbone.

  Jodi stepped back. If he kept that up, she would pull him down on top of her and rip his clothes off. “Three times in one day?” she squeaked.

  “Why not?”

  “Um … it’s painful to walk bowlegged.”

  Immediately, his smile evaporated. “Did I hurt you? Are you hurt?”

  “Sore,” she said. “But in a very good way.”

  “Rain check until tomorrow. Can you get away again? I’m installing the jetted tub and we can christen it.”

  “An offer I can’t refuse.”

  “Until then, this will have to sustain us.” He pulled her into his arms, dipped her.

  She let out a whoop of surprise and he kissed her deep and long.

  A fresh bolt of lightning illuminated her internal sky, the rising tide of tension. His mouth pushing them over the threshold of longing, into the fire of full sexual boil, but she tasted more in this kiss. It was sweeter, more solid, cementing her to him. A bond forming. A bridge being built. An invitation to go beyond the physical dance. We could be so good together, that kiss said. Not just for now, but forever.

  Frightened of the unspoken offer, plagued by inner doubt, she drew back. “We better get this finished,” she said in a quivery voice. “I need to get back to Stardust.”

  “Right.” He nodded, and she could tell he was trying not to look disappointed that she’d pulled back.

  “I just need some space,” she said. “I’m feeling—”

  “Overwhelmed again.”

  “Yes.”

  “No problem,” he said lightly. “This is just sex.”

  Her words, when tossed back at her like that, didn’t sound so appealing.

  Jake picked up the sledgehammer she’d dropped, wrapped his hands around the handle where hers had just been. Firm hands. Strong hands. Tanned hands. Hands that just a short time ago had been— Stop it, you’ll never get any work
done.

  He smashed the sheetrock, knocking the whole wall away.

  “Wow,” she said. “What a sledge driver.”

  “You renovate train cars, I knock baseballs into the stands.” He puffed out his chest, a little gloaty, yes, but he had every right to be. The man was a world-class hitter.

  “We’re a pair, huh? We can demo a bathroom in an hour.”

  “We could go into business together flipping houses,” he said.

  She laughed.

  “I’m serious.”

  “Like you’d ever give up baseball.”

  “I can’t bat forever.”

  Was he serious? Or talking pie-in-the-sky dreams? Ryan had made her lots of promises too.

  He’s not Ryan.

  She met his eyes. “We’d make terrible partners.”

  “Why do you say that? I think we’d be great together.”

  They already were great together, but was she ready for him? She had her own business in Stardust. He was a ballplayer and on the road a lot. Women chased him. Hell, men chased him.

  “Because we’d be constantly having sex.”

  “And that’s bad because …”

  “We’d never get any work done. Much like now.”

  “Yeah, right. Back to it.” He knocked loose the last remnants of sheetrock. They could see into the master bedroom.

  “French doors,” they said in unison, and laughed.

  “I like the way you think,” he said.

  “Taking the wall out really opens things up.” She planted her palms low on her back and stretched out her spine. When she straightened, she saw him watching her, caught the hungry look in his eyes. “You have to stop looking at me like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you’re the big bad wolf ready to eat me up.”

  “What is it they say? If the shoe fits.”

  “It’s okay when we’re alone, but it starts bad habits so that when we’re around other people they’re going to notice.”

  “Would that be so bad?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want everyone knowing our business and weighing in on our affair. I don’t want to take attention away from Breeanne and Rowdy. I don’t—”

  “You don’t want to get publicly humiliated again like you did when you got stood up at the altar.”

  She fisted her hands. Nodded. “That was the worst part. Not Ryan blowing town with a stripper and embezzled funds. Not the federal investigation, although believe me that was no picnic. It was the scandal. Having everyone know. Having people comment on how dumb I was. Seeing it on social media. Feeling the stares. Hearing the whispers. Slogging through the pity and derision. I don’t want to ever go through anything like that again.”

  “I would never put you through anything like that,” he said staunchly.

  “It’s a promise you can’t make. You’re in the public eye. It’s part of your job. Part of who you are. I’m not a limelight kind of woman, Jake. Believe it or not, I don’t care for the spotlight. I like my quiet, simple life in a small town. At least, it was quiet until Ryan ran off. I’m still putting my life back together. Still trying to find my footing.”

  “You’re searching for roadblocks to this relationship. Why?”

  It was a good question and she didn’t have a solid answer. All the objections she’d raised were justifiable, but couldn’t love overcome any of those obstacles?

  Love?

  Where was that coming from? She was not going to mistake powerful sexual attraction for love. Besides, it was far too soon to be thinking thoughts like that. She’d known him only a month.

  You knew Ryan for two years and look how that turned out.

  Exactly, if longevity couldn’t assure you that you knew someone, then what could? Honestly, could one person ever really know what was in another person’s heart?

  “Let’s just get through this wedding,” she said, trying to buy time. “Keep things on an even keel.”

  “The wedding is only ten days away, Jodi.”

  “So keeping things just as they are for ten days shouldn’t be a problem, right? Let’s not push, Jake. Let’s just enjoy the moment. Can we do that?”

  “Sure. Whatever you want.” He raked his gaze over her like she was the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen.

  Seriously? She was wearing ripped jeans and her hair was yanked up in a short ponytail and she had sheetrock dust all over her.

  “Jodi …” He took a step toward her.

  “Jake …” She backed up. Held her elbows out stiff and straight, keeping him at arm’s length.

  Her knees bobbled. Crap. If she was a smart woman, she’d grab up her things and run.

  He came closer.

  “Please,” she begged, laughing, dropping her stop-sign arms. “Please.”

  His arms were around her, his face buried against her neck. “God, you smell so good.”

  “Jake …” Her voice was so soft she wasn’t even certain she’d spoken.

  “I can’t resist you. You drive me crazy.” His mouth was at her throat, doing wicked things to her with his tongue.

  She tossed back her head, let him burn hot kisses all over her skin. Weak. She was so weak.

  “You’re incorrigible,” she said.

  “C’mon, admit it. That’s one of the qualities, you love most about me.”

  Love.

  That word again. The one she did not want to face. Love. Was she ready for this? Honestly, no. But it was happening whether she wanted it to or not. Jake had gotten into her bloodstream and she was infected. Ridiculous that it felt so wonderful. Incredible.

  Oh Lord, she was sunk.

  Color her stupid, but Jodi returned to Jefferson the next morning at eight a.m. to help with the jetted tub installation.

  Jake let her in the house. “I made breakfast,” he said.

  “Not Cheerios?”

  “Not Cheerios. A real breakfast. I went to the grocery store and everything. Are you proud of me?”

  “So proud,” she said, because she was.

  He ushered her into the kitchen where he had breakfast set out for two. One plate had toast points, each bite spread with a spoonful of scrambled egg and topped with a section of bacon.

  “My plate?” She laughed.

  “I made it come out even so you didn’t have to.”

  She canted her head, interlaced her fingers, tucked her hands under her chin, and fluttered her eyelashes at him. “My hero.”

  They ate breakfast sitting side by side, chatting about their families for a few minutes, and then headed toward the master bedroom. All the doors in the house were open except the one at the end of the hall across from the master bedroom. Jodi had noticed it yesterday, but hadn’t mentioned it.

  “What room is this?” she asked, putting her hand on the doorknob.

  “Don’t!” He said it so vehemently, she dropped her hand, jumped back. “Don’t go in there.” His face tightened.

  Jane Eyre, she thought. Rochester. Mad wife. Maura wasn’t dead, but mad and locked in the bedroom.

  It was an outrageous thought, but his reaction to her question about the room was so over the top that something unpleasant had to be in there. What was it? Pornography? A kinky sex S&M chamber? Sex slaves held hostage? Or worse, a shrine to Maura’s memory?

  “Junk room,” he said, moderating his voice and smearing on a weak smile. “It’s a real mess.”

  Ookay. Odd since the rest of the house was empty, but she didn’t say that. Instead, she pressed the palm she’d touched the door with to her hip pocket and was struck again by how little she really knew him.

  And now not only was she dying to know what was beyond that door, but she was skittish again, wondering if she was being an idiot by trusting her instincts where Jake was concerned.

  She pushed the thought out of her mind and followed him to the master bathroom, her gaze glued to the twitch of his delectable rump.

&
nbsp; CHAPTER 19

  Jodi Carlyle’s Wedding Crasher Rules: Enjoy the party

  while it lasts.

  Thirty minutes later, the tub was in place and Jake was hooking up the pipes. He was on the floor, working in tight quarters, while Jodi leaned against a big cardboard box that contained a new bathroom vanity.

  Her heart skipped extra fast, partly from the exertion of putting the tub in place, partly from the mystery of why he hadn’t wanted her to open that door, and partly because his shirt had ridden up to reveal those amazing abs.

  “Got it,” he said, sitting up. He looked so triumphant, so pleased with his accomplishment that she could almost convince herself he hadn’t gotten uptight and edgy when she’d touched that doorknob. “Let’s test it out.”

  She walked over and turned the faucet on wide open to fill the tub.

  Jake got to his feet and they stood side by side watching the water swirl like it was the most fascinating thing they’d ever seen, the silence between them filled with unspoken thoughts.

  “Listen,” he said. “I’m sorry I barked at you when you tried to go into the other—”

  “No apologies needed.” She raised a palm to stop him. “This is your house. I overstepped my boundaries. We are just naked buddies. I’m certainly not your girlfriend. You don’t owe me an explanation.”

  “I want to tell you—”

  “Shh. I don’t want to know.” It was better this way, honestly. Let him keep his secrets. Boundaries. Walls. That’s what they need to keep this relationship purely sexual. It was all good. She could do this.

  He didn’t push. Probably because he didn’t really want to talk about what was in that room.

  What was in that room?

  “The tub is holding water. Plumbing looks right. Should we drain the tub now?” she asked.

  “Let’s take a bath,” Jake suggested. “I’ve been fantasizing about getting you in there ever since I bought the thing.”

  Holy schmoe. The way he was looking at her made her feel sexy and powerful, and that gave her the confidence to say, “Really? Where else do you fantasize about us doing it?”

  “Everywhere,” he said cheerfully. “In one of your boxcars, on a plane—I always wanted to join the Mile High Club—in the back of your van, on the hood of my Vette, on a sky lift, a monorail …”