Who's Been Sleeping in My Bed?

by Jami Davenport

  “Assistant? Of course.”

  “She manages my office, takes care of all the paperwork, payroll, and subcontractors. She’s indispensable.”

  Harlee’s heart warmed at Jake’s defense of her honor. Unfortunately, Jill’s critical eyes appraised Harlee’s appearance and dispelled the good feelings. “Too bad we’re not the same size. I have so many outdated clothes that I need to give to charity.” The claws came out and Harlee braced herself for a cat fight. At least she had boobs. The mannequin had none.

  Jake’s father edged away, retreating to the bar, not wanting any part of a chick war. He hadn’t made millions by being a dumb man.

  Much to Harlee’s surprise, Clarice came to her rescue. “Jill, I need some help in the kitchen.”

  Jill hesitated. She’d probably never been in a kitchen, let alone dirtied her hands in one. “Don’t you have people that do that?” Jill whined.

  “Now.” Clarice’s authoritative tone left Jill no choice. Bridget covered her hand with her mouth and stifled a laugh.

  “You too, Bridget.” Sulking, the two women followed with reluctance.

  Harlee released the breath she’d held for too long and tugged on the bottom of her sweater. “Who was that?”

  “She’s the daughter of my mother’s best friend. They decided years ago that she and I would marry one day.”

  “Really? Why you? Why not Brad or Carson?”

  “They don’t want anything to do with her.”

  “And you do?”

  “No, not anymore. I toyed with the idea for a while. We dated in college. I guess I was too wild for her.”

  Harlee suspected Jill hid a wild streak of her own but chose to keep her mouth shut. “That was nice of your mother to rescue me.”

  “Don’t read too much into it. Mother doesn’t like scenes. She sensed one coming on so she diffused it.”

  “Oh.”

  “My mother isn’t mean, just a snob. She’s sheltered, spoiled, and has no idea how the other half lives. Nor does she care to know.”

  “What I find most amazing is that you grew up in this luxury.”

  “What’s so amazing about it?” She detected a note of irritation in his voice.

  “You seem so different from the rest of them. Brad does, too, but he plays the part better than you do.” Harlee glanced across the room at Brad carrying on an animated conversation with Carson and a cousin.

  “Brad’s always had that gift. I never figured it out.”

  “Are they always on your case like this?”

  “Oh, this is amateur night. They’ve toned it down for the guests’ benefit.” Jake’s expression turned to annoyance. “Oh, shit.” Jake nodded acknowledgement as Carson appeared beside them.

  “Are you enjoying our family, Harlee?”

  Before she could respond, Jill returned and slid next to Carson. She slipped her arm through his and leaned against him. “Car, you handsome devil. Where’ve you been hiding?”

  “Right here. You look lovely tonight, Jill.” Carson could be the smooth one when the mood struck him.

  Jill graced him with a cool smile. “You know how to flatter a girl. Perhaps Jake could take some lessons.”

  “I don’t think he’s trainable.” Carson’s knowing blue eyes slid over both of them then back to Jill.

  “Perhaps not, judging by his guest for the evening.” Jill looked to Carson for support, but he was frowning at her. Jake leaned forward, as if ready to do battle. Much to Harlee’s surprise, his big brother beat him to it.

  “I will not have you causing a scene on Thanksgiving Day. My father doesn’t need any undue stress.” Carson’s eyes turned as cold as a frozen lake on a winter day. If looks could kill, Jill would’ve been dead in five seconds flat.

  Undeterred, Jill patted his arm. “That’s our Carson. Forever the family watchdog.”

  “Jill—”

  “Okay, I’ll be nice. Harlee, what did you do before you worked for Jake?”

  “I groomed horses.”

  Carson’s eyes opened wide. He looked to Jake for confirmation. Jake stared straight ahead.

  “Groomed horses? I didn’t hear that correctly, did I?” Jill gave Carson an I-told-you-so look.

  “You did.” Harlee’s chin came up. “I groomed Olympic-level jumpers, traveled all over the world.”

  “What kind of college does a person go to in order to learn to groom horses?” Jill smiled as she faked interest.

  “I didn’t go to college.” Heck, she’d barely graduated from high school.

  “My, that’s an ambitious career.”

  “Jill, I warned you.”

  Clarice hurried over and linked her arm in Jake’s. “Honey, why don’t you escort Harlee to the table. It’s time to eat.” She cast a chastising look over her shoulder at Jill. “Carson, please find Jill a seat.”

  Carson nodded then offered Jill his arm. Even she wasn’t so rude as to turn him down.

  Harlee wanted to hug Clarice. Jake hesitated, and Harlee touched his arm, drawing his attention to her. “Let’s sit down. I’m fine. I don’t pay any attention to nasty people.”

  * * * *

  Jake tried to maneuver Harlee to a safe place at the table. Instead, he found himself across from her while Bridget and Jill flanked her on both sides. He caught her eye and smiled an apology.

  His father chose that opportune time to say grace and carved the turkey as everyone waited. They passed the food without any more incident. Harlee stacked her plate then studied the array of silverware in front of her. She didn’t seem to know which one to use. Oh, shit. Jake caught his mother’s frown and his father’s pained grimace. Good old Dad met his eyes with one of those “we’ll talk later” warnings.

  Harlee picked up a fork, the wrong one, and attacked her food with gusto, reminding Jake that she hadn’t eaten all day. He hadn’t either, but the expression on his father’s face crushed his appetite. At least she chewed with her mouth shut and didn’t belch.

  Jill smirked and exchanged glances with Bridget. Jake sensed the two women were moving in for the kill, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

  “Harlee, tell me about your family.” Jill waited with total mock innocence.

  “Yes, Harlee, we’d love to hear more about you.” Bridget added, and Jake got the distinct impression Bridget knew something.

  Lifting her head, Harlee squared her shoulders and gave it to them straight. “My mother is in Vegas, last I heard, and my father is in prison for life. No parole.”

  Jill gasped. “Jake, do you run background checks on your employees?”

  “Jake? Are you kidding? What do you think?” Bridget snorted.

  Jake caught the stricken expression on Harlee’s face. He needed to get out of there before this got any worse away from his impossible-to-please parents and his cruel ex-girlfriend and critical sister.

  “That’s it.” Jake sprang to his feet. “I’ve heard enough from all of you. Harlee doesn’t have to tolerate these insults from the likes of you. You—” He pointed a finger in Jill’s face. “And you—” He swung around to point at Bridget. “…are not fit to be in the same room with her.”

  “Well, that’s one way to put it.” Jill snickered.

  “Grab your coat, Harlee. We’re leaving.”

  “Jake, wait.” His father’s voice, strong and authoritative rang in his ears. Jake paid no attention in a manner reminiscent of his bad ol’ days.

  Jake grabbed Harlee’s arm and wrenched it in his effort to escape his family. He heard his father rip into Jill and Bridget as he hustled Harlee from the dining room.

  * * * *

  Harlee and Jake sat in an orange booth with a gold Formica tabletop amid glaring fluorescent lights. Finding a place to eat on Thanksgiving wasn’t easy. They had driven around for an hour before they spotted this diner. It reeked of grease, but they were too hungry to care.

  “Jake, I’m sorry I ruined your family dinner.”

  “You didn�
��t ruin it. Jill and Bridget ruined it. My mother and father didn’t help matters. They’re a pain in the best of circumstances.”

  “They’re sure tough on you.”

  Jake laughed. “Old history and old habits. My parents never forgive and never forget.”

  “What’d you do that was so awful?”

  “Everything I could.” Jake smiled and let out a breath. “I barely made it out of high school. If it weren’t for my high SAT scores and football, no college would’ve touched me. Yeah, I gave them some major fits when I was younger. But I’ve grown up. I don’t party or run around anymore.”

  “Can’t they see that?”

  “No, not really. I can’t do anything right. I never could. Except sports.”

  “Would Jill be one of the right things?”

  “According to my parents, yeah.”

  “And to you?”

  “No. You’ve met her. She’s malicious and cruel. Can you imagine living with that day after day?”

  “I’d rather be on death row.”

  “Married to her, I would be.”

  Harlee laughed. Her brilliant smile warmed his heart. “Aren’t your parents proud of your successes?”

  He snorted with derision. “Hardly. They don’t see them as successes. They hate that I’m in construction, that I work with my hands. Dad wonders when I’m going to wake up and do something meaningful.”

  “Well, I think you’ve done a great job turning your life around.” Her blue eyes reflected her unwavering belief in him. No one had ever believed in him before, except his grandfather.

  “I’m an outcast in my own family. I don’t fit in.”

  “I never fit in either. Anywhere I went. Except with horses. Horses don’t judge you by your bank account, your clothes, or your bloodlines.”

  Jake reached across the table and twined his long fingers with her small ones. He rubbed his thumb across her calloused palm. Goldilocks had done some hard labor for a living, probably wielding a manure fork. “I think you fit in with me.”

  Damn, she turned him inside out. So much for finding an appropriate woman that met with his family’s approval. He didn’t want a woman like Jill. He wanted this woman, at least for one night, as if that would be enough.

  Harlee pulled her hand away and concentrated on her plate.

  “They didn’t want me. I was an accident.” Now why did he feel the need to tell her that?

  “Why would you ever think that?”

  “I know.”

  “Jake, I’m sure they wanted you.”

  He shrugged. She didn’t understand the half of it. “My mother didn’t want more than two kids, a boy and a girl, but she had twins the second time. When she got pregnant with me a few years later, it was a big surprise.”

  Harlee stroked the underside of his wrist with a fingernail. “You’re their son. They care about you, or they wouldn’t give you such a hard time.”

  “I suppose.” Her red fingernail distracted him. He watched it caress his forearm then move higher to caress his biceps. He jerked away before he finished what she’d started right there under the fluorescent lights on the Formica table.

  “I’m sorry. Did that tickle?”

  He stared into her round, innocent eyes. Was she kidding? Surely, she knew what that did to him.

  Her blue eyes twinkled with mischief.

  Oh, yeah, she knew. She really knew.

  Chapter 9—A Rat Dog Comes Calling

  Harlee snuggled under the big quilt and tried to sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she pictured Jake smiling, Jake laughing, Jake defending her honor. Jake. Jake. Jake. He’d turned a certain disaster of a day into a fond memory.

  Sighing, she opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. They’d caught the last ferry back to the islands that evening, talking and laughing all the way home. She learned a lot about him, and he about her. He’d dreamed of playing professional football but screwed up his knee in his last college game. She’d dreamed of riding for the Olympic equestrian team but didn’t have the money or the training, not to mention no talent and a top-heavy body. He loved to dance and hated watching chick flicks. She didn’t like chick flicks either and loved action movies.

  Harlee didn’t reveal any overly personal facts about her life, and neither did he. They’d kept it safe and neutral. All in all, it’d been a hell of a lot of fun. She’d never discussed such inconsequential items with a man, except with the express purpose of engaging in verbal foreplay followed up by the more preferred version of foreplay.

  Harlee hugged her pillow to her chest. She imagined being wrapped in Jake’s arms, warm and cozy on a cold night like this, his bare chest against hers, curly chest hairs rasping her body. Her legs wrapped around his waist.

  The night was calm, no wind, no rain. Just silence gliding through the trees outside, making every little noise sound like thunder. She jumped when the little house creaked and groaned as it settled into its old bones.

  Then she heard it. A scratch, very faint, from downstairs. Something scratched again at the front door. Oh, man. Had she locked it? Turned the deadbolt? Should she call Jake?

  Nope. She wasn’t a coward.

  Another scratch.

  Harlee froze. A chill ran through her.

  Raccoons and little animals lived in the nearby woods. Perhaps one was seeking shelter for the night in her house.

  Sliding out of bed, she gripped an umbrella and crept down the stairs.

  Horror movies pissed her off because the idiotic heroines refused to call for help. With blind stupidity, they walked into the jaws of danger. Give her the dumb blonde award of the evening for following in their footsteps. Lusting over Jake must have thrown her brain in the frying pan and scrambled it.

  Harlee stopped at the front door, her umbrella cocked and ready. She peeked out the side window. Nothing. She leaned her ear against the door, her heart pounded louder than a bass drum in a rock band.

  Then she heard it.

  Scratch.

  Harlee held her breath until the color of her face matched her blue eyes.

  Scratch, scratch.

  A wild animal had to be on the other side, ready to grab her and drag her into the woods. In a few weeks, little varmints would spread her bones all over the island, and then some neighbor’s pet would drag home her leg bone and chew it in front of the fireplace at night.

  Harlee took a calming breath and reined herself in. Flipping on the porch light, she whipped open the door. Brandishing the umbrella like a samurai sword, she crouched low, ready for the attack. And looked, and looked, and looked. She saw nothing.

  Scratch.

  Harlee squealed and threw up her arms in a panic. The umbrella skated across the porch into a bush. Her eyes combed the porch for the ravenous, wild animal about to devour her. Instead she looked into the beady eyes of the ugliest little three-legged dog she’d ever seen. Someone must have pasted parts of several small dog breeds together, using the homeliest part from each dog. Or maybe a poodle had had an illicit affair with a midget buffalo. A little Chihuahua, terrier, and rat blood were also peppered into the family tree.

  The rat dog brushed past her, scruffy tail held high, and marched into her house, navigating on only one back leg like a pro.

  “Wait a minute.” Harlee followed after him. “Who invited you in?”

  The rat dog climbed onto her couch, curled up on a pillow, and squinted at her through the mop of wiry hair covering his eyes, one blue and one brown.

  “Look, I like real dogs. Full-sized ones. Not little mutts. Now go home.” She opened the door wide and made a sweeping motion with her hand.

  The rat dog made a sound between a growl and a squeak, then buried his head in his paws and gave her the brush-off.

  Harlee shut the door to keep out the cold. Hands perched on her hips, she glared at her uninvited guest. He wore no collar, and he stank.

  She didn’t like little dogs. Never had. Yet, she couldn’t throw him out in this weather.<
br />
  “Okay, fine. You’d better be housebroken.” He opened a blue eye and looked at her. One corner of his little mouth opened in a pathetic snarl.

  “Cranky little ingrate.”

  Turning on her heel, she stomped into the bedroom.

  She’d deal with the rat in the morning.

  * * * *

  What was that stench? Harlee lifted her head and looked around. Oh, no. The rat dog was curled up on the pillow next to her head. Harlee sat up.

  “Off! Off the bed. Now.”

  He made a weird little sound and ignored her.

  “I mean it. I don’t allow animals in my bed.” Okay, granted there were exceptions—a certain male of the human persuasion came to mind.

  The little rat pretended to be deaf and started snoring. Harlee gagged on a strand of rat dog fur and buried her head under the blankets. Tomorrow, she’d throw him in the laundry room sink and give him a bath. She’d never find him a home as long as he smelled like a landfill.

  Shutting her eyes, she drifted off to sleep, oddly comforted by his little body next to her and the steady purr of his snoring.

  * * * *

  Jake sat down on the couch, while Harlee whipped up a snack. Tempting fate again, he couldn’t stay away, despite his best intentions. He’d invited himself to watch the football game, having discovered that she shared his love of the sport.

  He glanced toward the kitchen where Harlee checked on her homemade stew. His mouth watered. Man, that woman could cook up a storm. If he hung around much longer, he’d be fat as a pig in a grain elevator.

  Something squirmed under his back. He shot to his feet and stared at the pillow. It moved again. What the hell? He’d better get rid of this creature before she saw it and did that female screaming thing that’d turn his ears inside out.

  Reaching forward gingerly, he snatched the pillow from the couch and stared in amazement. He’d never seen such an ugly dog in his entire life. At least, he figured it was a dog, or a nasty canine genetic experiment gone awry. And the smell— He backed up a few steps.