The drive to the construction site wound through a pasture of prickly mesquite trees and rocky granite outcroppings. Set back into the gently rolling hills, the landscape was harsh, but with a scrubby, endearing beauty that took Lila’s breath away.
As she crested the last hill, the site came into view. Laid out on a sprawling concrete pad, the frame stood tall and open, ascending to a vaulted roof reminding her of a church nave.
“Beautiful” didn’t do the house justice. “Awe-inspiring,” maybe. Jake had outdone himself.
She could easily envision sitting on the front porch with the sun rising in the eastern sky, a hot cup of coffee warming her hands. Jake sitting next to her, his lanky frame sprawled in a wicker recliner, newspaper in hand.
Her heart constricted at the thought. Contentment. Yes. That’s what she wanted. That’s what had been missing from her life.
She pulled the car to a stop behind Jake’s truck, scanning the site, looking for his familiar form.
Not finding him, she gave her face a once-over in the rearview mirror and gathered her keys before she lost her nerve. She was about to enter Jake’s domain without his permission and despite his rather obvious attempt to ignore her presence.
Glad she wore her running shoes, Lila sidestepped framing remnants, nails, five-gallon buckets, and other construction odds and ends as she climbed the low berm of dirt referred to as the spoil pile. She sensed the curious and appraising stares, but none of the men looked remotely familiar.
“No, man! You can’t do it that way!”
Lila followed the sound of the scathing outburst. She knew the voice, and sure enough she spotted Otis at the far end of the house yanking PVC pipes out of the floor.
“If you set the height there, Ms. Hillcrest will be stooping to brush her pearly whites every morning. The woman’s short, but she’s not as short as a five-year-old.”
She glided between the two-by-four frame supports to what must be the master bath, judging by the size of the layout and Otis’s comment.
“Go cut some fresh pipe and do it right this time!” Otis sent the shamefaced young man on his way with a rough shake of his head. He spotted Lila in the doorway.
“I thought you might turn up sooner or later.” Otis opened his wide arms and Lila ran into them. Otis had been one of her father’s dearest friends during his tour overseas, a tour of duty from which he never returned.
Otis came home to Hannington, bearing her father’s body. He stayed and tried to make up for her lack of a father, a father who had died at the hands of suicide bombers. He acted as a protector to the newly widowed Sarah and her young daughter, keeping the promise he’d made to her father, Michael.
Little did either of them know at the time, he would soon become her single stand-in parent. Six months after burying her husband, Sarah left town one afternoon and never returned again.
Leaving Hannington and Otis behind ten years ago had been the hardest thing Lila ever had to do, but he’d encouraged it, urging her to find her own way. And she had.
His bear hug squeezed the air from her lungs. She reveled in the comforting embrace. Otis had always made everything all right, chased away the fears of girlhood, and supported her as an entrepreneurial young woman.
He set her back, holding her at arm’s length. He appraised her with a fatherly eye. “You’re not eating enough of my cooking. Still too skinny. I want you back over at my kitchen table tonight girl, and I’m going to feed you chicken fried steak and mashed potatoes.”
She laughed. Since she’d been back, Otis had stuffed her full of Southern comfort foods she’d been denying herself in Dallas. Nobody cooked like Otis.
It was good to be home.
“Can you go easy on the white country gravy? I want to eat it, not swim in it.”
“With that kind of sass, I’ll make you eat two slices of pecan pie, too.” His eyes twinkled to match his grin.
She hugged him again and finally braved the question they both knew she would ask. “Is he around, Otis?”
A protective shadow crossed the older man’s features. The pair went way back as well, with Otis teaching Jake everything he knew about the construction business. “He is, but I can’t say he’s in a mood to talk.”
“He’s in a bad mood? How about me? He tried to pummel my architect!”
Otis lifted his hat and scratched his bald head. “That must be the pansy-ass I’m hearing about.” He held up a hand to hold off her outrage. “Not my words. Apparently Howard has had a run-in with your guy.”
She didn’t like his words, even if he was merely repeating the mayor. “He never mentioned an encounter. What happened?”
“Well, it seems Howard has uncovered a conspiracy. He’s determined to knock down everyone associated with your little project in the hopes you’ll tuck tail and head on back to Dallas.”
“Crap. Why am I the last one to know about these things?” She kicked at the dust under her feet. “So what did Howard threaten him with?”
“Not so much threatened Mark, as let him in on the fact that he knows you’ve got a posse in town backing you.”
Lila looked up in confusion. “What the hell does that mean? I’ve got a posse.” Could he be referring to Pru’s journal? And the silent benefactor who’d sent it, whom she now suspected to be Threasa Thompson?
Otis laughed. “To tell you the truth, little girl, I haven’t spent a whole lot of time trying to figure it out. You know I never listen to half of what’s said to me, and I follow even less of that.”
She really had to get to the bottom of this secret admirer/benefactor—whatever and whoever this person was—right away. As soon as she got Jake back on track.
“I hear Mark’s a snappy dresser. Smells good, too.”
“What?” She leaned in, detecting another one of his teasing smiles at the corner of his mouth. “Mayor Armstrong did not say that.”
“Your grandmother called me this morning,” he elaborated.
Lord love a gossip. She should never have introduced Mark to her grandmother.
“Something going on there I should know about?” Otis’s brown eyes crinkled with humor.
He thought she and Mark were involved?
Lila laughed out loud, feeling lighter. “Otis. Mark and I are not interested in each other that way. Trust me. We never will be.”
Jake saw Lila the minute she pulled onto the site. His heart completed a painful three-sixty in his chest as he watched her long legs appear from underneath the car door, followed by her torso encased in a clinging white cotton tank.
She was a fragrant tropical breeze blowing through the desert. And he was a man in need of relief.
He watched her climb the steps to the pad, her light-colored trousers hugging the rounded shape of her bottom.
He felt an immediate response from below, a tightening of his balls inside his jeans, a pulsing he didn’t need at the moment.
Turning his back on his wife, Jake studied the plans of the house under construction. The dimensions for the garage swam before his eyes as he listened to Otis greet Lila.
He couldn’t make out their conversation, but the soft melody of her voice comforted him, reassured him in a way he hadn’t felt in some time. She had the ability to do that, put him at ease with the simple sound of her voice. To Jake, Lila represented home. No matter where they were, what they were doing, as long as she was there, he was home.
He hadn’t had a home in ten years, and he didn’t want to start brooding over the fact now. He’d grown used to his bachelorhood and expected nothing more from life than heat and taxes. It was safer that way.
The hard gravel around the building site crunched underfoot as Lila walked toward him.
“Jake?” She forced a sunniness into her voice, which told him Otis had been talking too damn much. He just might fire the old cuss this afternoon, right after he gave him a piece of his mind.
“Yeah?” He stared intently at the blue layouts, but they could have been in Gr
eek for all he got out of them.
“I’d like to talk to you about something important.”
Ah, Christ, here it comes. “How long is it going to take? Because I’ve got a line of customers all with important business to discuss.”
She huffed. A foot stomped the packed earth. “You could at least do me the courtesy of looking at me when I speak to you.”
Jake made a display of throwing down his pen and turning. Jesus, she took his breath away. With her golden hair pushed back from her face in a loose ponytail and her warm skin void of makeup, she looked eighteen again.
He could smell her scent drifting on the hot wind.
“Let’s have it.”
She stared him down, her hands rising to rest on her hips. Jake caught a glimpse of the firm underside of her arms and the delicate curve dipping in the crook next to her breasts. He had a sudden urge to nuzzle his lips there, kissing a trail down her side to her hip.
“When are you going to be back at my site? I would like to move some walls on the second floor.”
“My guys are there. Plus you have your architect, Matt.”
She squinted her eyes at him. “His name is Mark.”
“Whatever. Seems like you have enough expertise to make some simple decisions about moving walls. And I do have other clients.”
Lila stepped closer, toe-to-toe, until she almost touched his chest. She looked up into his eyes and smiled. Jake went on alert. He knew that look. Lila had a plan.
She wouldn’t convince him to come back to the job site just yet. He didn’t want any more surprises like Mark or his retreaded running shoes, which, dammit, were as good as new. And crap, he forgot to grill Casler about that. Next time.
He could almost taste her breath on his lips. And speaking of lips, hers were sweet, soft, open, and right in front of him.
“Honey, I’ve been running with the big dogs now for quite a while. I know I have the expertise. Hell, if we were in Dallas, I’d be running the entire show. But these are your guys and I would prefer if they got their directions from you. Call me old-fashioned.”
He grunted and her smile grew wider, feeding off his challenge.
“You don’t believe me?” Her tone mocked his disbelief.
He cast a glance down to the gap in the front of her tank top. He could see the swell of her breasts as they disappeared beneath white cotton. Did he see pink nipples or was that wishful thinking?
“Sweetheart, if you dress like this, I’m sure that’s why you’re as successful as you are.” Her color rose a notch as his words drove home, but she didn’t back down. She wouldn’t until he said enough painful words to drive her away.
Why did he have to say hurtful things? He wanted to take it back. Apologize.
“You’re right about that. Works on men all the time, as I’m finding out.”
A rush of anger sang through his veins. The thought of other men appraising his wife’s breasts as he did now made him want to punch someone. Someone like that ass Mark.
“You’d better watch out, Lila, someone is liable to take you up on an offer you can’t fulfill.”
She smiled and he admired her strong white teeth. “Oh, plenty have accepted my offer, and I have yet to meet a man I couldn’t handle.”
She stepped back and took the sun with her. He fell into shadow without her next to him. He wanted the sun to return.
“I expect you back on the site tomorrow morning.”
He would do it. In fact, had already been planning to. And he’d make sure no other man, Mark or anyone else, stood this close to his wife, breathing in the scent of her skin, eyeballing her sexy figure, thinking dirty thoughts about taking her on her granny’s bathroom countertop.
“I’ll drop by tomorrow when I have time.”
“Fine.” She glanced at her watch, retreating while she spoke. “And Mark will be there, so I would appreciate you using some of the manners your mother supposedly taught you.”
Jake ignored the urge to follow her and demand she tell him about Mark. Were they seeing each other? Had they slept together?
“I can drop by around ten.”
“Wonderful.” Lila turned, providing him with a scenic view of her curvy backside. He wanted to sidle up to her warmth and wear her like a second skin.
She waved a hand over her head in farewell.
Who’d just won here? He scanned the site to find Otis watching him. He looked away, pretending to be absorbed in checking the plumbing for water, but Jake saw his smile.
Lila felt smug with herself and her surroundings. She’d brought Jake around to her way of thinking and it wasn’t as painful as she first imagined. He could be reasonable upon occasion, with a little incentive. She ignored the niggling feeling of guilt in the back of her mind.
She couldn’t be faulted if Jake and others thought she and Mark were more than friends. Did it put her in the wrong to use the misconception to her benefit?
A metallic-colored SUV climbed the drive to the construction site ahead of Lila. She watched as the driver parked the diesel-powered monster directly behind her Lexus, blocking her between a construction trailer and the rumbling Suburban.
A woman slid from behind the wheel, all legs and breasts, topped off by a shiny mane of curling blond hair. Her open high-heel sandals were completely inappropriate for a construction site. As a matter of fact, her entire presence was inappropriate for a construction site.
She breezed toward Lila, her perfect, rounded, pert, non-jiggly breasts standing at attention beneath the thin silk of her black camisole. They didn’t move, which told Lila a lot. The hips, however, were swinging like an old barn door.
“Hi there.” Her white teeth shone like a freshly painted white picket fence. Lila looked away, down toward a narrow waist evident by the form fit of the camisole.
Lila hated her immediately. She was perfect. Medically perfect.
“Hello.”
Miss Perfect Breasts didn’t seem to notice her stony expression.
“Is Jacob here?”
Oh, Jacob, was it? How very upscale. Probably the wife of an oil executive out to oversee the construction. She gave the woman’s left hand a cursory scan.
No rock.
A chill raced down her spine. Lila wanted to know her business with Jacob, but refrained from asking. She didn’t come out here prepared to do battle. Hell, she wore a ponytail and not a trace of makeup. How could she compete with the queen of pert?
Maybe it was better she didn’t know. She picked an imaginary piece of lint off her cropped linen pants and caught a glimpse of Pert’s lacquered silver toenails framed by toe rings. Ugh!
“He’s around the corner.” She pointed to the other side of the trailer.
“Thanks, hon.” Pert clattered off in the direction she indicated, unaffected by the visual daggers she threw at her sculpted back.
Lila had to look. She couldn’t resist, couldn’t stop her eyes from dropping to the chiffon-clad rear walking toward Jake.
Slapping a hand over her eyes, she peeked again. Yep, firm, round, and…pert.
Lila’s feet moved on their own; she simply obliged and let the rest of her body follow. She wouldn’t spy exactly, just…um…make sure Jake hadn’t disappeared.
Skirting the other side of the trailer closest to the tree line, Jake came into view, leaning over his paperwork.
“Jacob! Hard at work I see.” She came into view, too, standing back from Jake so he could have a nice long look if he wanted.
Lila’s heart nearly jumped out of her chest when Jake turned, giving the woman the once-over. He was a married man, for Pete’s sake. Married to her!
Backtracking to her car, Lila slid into the driver’s seat. The burning leather on her bottom barely registered as she considered Jake and Ms. Fake Boobs. More there than a professional relationship? Could this be Jenna, the woman Margie had told Granny about?
Putting the car in reverse, she hit the gas pedal and grunted as the seat belt locked her into
the seat.
What the hell…? The SUV! She’d backed into the woman’s SUV.
Holy hell! Would nothing go her way?
Lesson Number Eighteen —
Angry women do not make good wives. They make lonely women. Take it from me, a person who has asked many, many men why they visit my rooms rather than stay at home with their families. Letting anger, resentment, frustration, and unhappiness build inside you only drives your man away. Communicating with him cannot be worse than having him here with me, can it?
Chapter Twenty
I visited the jailhouse today. The place is horrible. It is so tiny and crowded, reeking of old alcohol and tired, sweaty men. I should be used to the smell by now, but I demand my customers come to me after they have had their bath; whether it be their weekly, monthly, or yearly matters little to me, as long as they have had it.
A young man, barely more than a boy, met me at the jailhouse door, his hair neatly combed and oiled in the front. When he turned to escort me to the cells, I noticed the back of his head was snarled from bed.
It is strange how the mind works. When I am in an unpleasant place like the jail, my mind wanders, searching for distractions, something to keep me from thinking about what I am doing. Hence, the young man today. Like a mother, I wanted to smooth his tangled hair and demand he wash his hands, freshen his clothes.
But when I stepped through the door leading to the cells, I focused my attention on the girls inside.
“Ladies.” Most knew the routine. They had been here before, as had I.
They lined up as close to the bars as they could get, a weary lot of women in various states of dress.
There were eight in all, three of whom I did not know.
I looked over my shoulder to the fidgeting youth in the entry. “Charges?” I asked.
He scampered back through to the office, which really only consisted of a rickety table with a kerosene lamp and an accompanying chair.
“Miss Prudence, we knew you’d come, ma’am.” I looked at the girl on my left, her hands waving at me through the bars. Determining age is difficult among this class of prostitutes, but I placed her younger than twenty.
Deconstructing Lila (Entangled Select) Page 16
