“Okay. That’d be fun.”
“I’ll let you take care of the details. Is that all right?”
“That’s fine.” More than fine. Fantastic. He acted like they were a real couple. Then her heart sank as she remembered. “I have to work at the bar tonight.”
“You do? Shit. Why don’t you quit that job? I’ll give you a raise if you need more money.”
It wasn’t the money, but he couldn’t understand. She needed to be independent, even more so after last night. “Thanks for the offer, Jake. But you just gave me a generous raise.”
He pursed his lips together, and his jaw tightened. “I don’t like you working there.”
“I don’t think you get an opinion on that subject.”
“Maybe I think it interferes with your day job.”
“Give me one example where it’s interfered.”
He hesitated and chewed on his lower lip.
“I can meet you after the bar closes,” she suggested with hope in her voice.
“I’ll be there. At least we can talk in between serving drinks.”
“Deal.”
* * * *
Harlee glanced at her watch every couple minutes. It was after nine PM. Had Jake come to his senses? Had he decided not to make more out of this relationship? After all, seeing her two nights in a row blew away the one-night stand concept.
That’s why she’d sworn off sex and rich boys altogether until last night.
Maybe he’d thought all this over and run like hell.
The front door tinkled, announcing a customer. Harlee looked up.
At nine thirty, Jake strode into the bar.
“So did you have a busy day, Jake?” Harlee tried to keep her voice even and unconcerned.
“Were you wondering about me?” His smug expression irritated her.
“Of course not. You’re a big boy.”
“Thanks for the compliment.” A grin slanted across Jake’s face and lit up his chocolate eyes. “Don’t you think it’s time to close this bar for the night?”
Harlee glanced around the room. “I have paying customers.”
“Yeah, my crew.”
“We’ll have to wait until they leave.”
Jake nodded, stood and walked across the room, sitting down to hang with his guys. It seemed like hours before they put on their coats and headed for the door.
Jake returned to the bar. “I never thought they’d leave.”
“Me neither.” Harlee wiped the bar counter with a wet rag.
Jake leaned over the counter and planted a big wet sloppy kiss on her lips.
“Jake, not here.”
“You love it. In fact, wasn’t that your tongue down my throat just now?” His wicked grin turned her stomach into a trampoline. Moisture tickled the inside of her thighs.
Harlee tossed the bar rag at him. He snatched it out of the air with a finger. “Well, honey, if you want any more of that action, you’d better get to work clearing those tables.” She shoved an empty tray in his hands.
“What? You want me to clear tables?”
“Uh-huh. What’s the matter, rich boy? Never bused tables before?”
Jake thought about that for a minute then shook his head. “Nope, never.”
“The faster we get done, the sooner we get between the sheets.”
“Does it have to be between the sheets? Can we get a little more creative?”
“Anywhere your little heart desires. The shower. The couch. The kitchen. In front of the fireplace. The front porch. On horseback. On the doghouse.”
Jake’s eyes lit up at the possibilities, and he hurried off to clear tables. He attacked the dirty tables with enthusiasm born of a man certain of an eventual payoff.
As he bent over to wipe a table, Harlee admired his fine butt clad in those faded jeans. She dragged her gaze away from him. Try as she might, she couldn’t distract her mind or her heart. This guy had homesteaded every corner. In fact, he’d moved in, staked a claim, and refused to leave.
She didn’t want him to leave. Ever. But she didn’t fall in love. Not anymore.
Not that Harlee understood what love was. In her childhood, she thought it was the thing everyone else had but her. Her mother’s type of love came with a price. Her herd of foster parents had been too busy, too overworked, and too underpaid to notice her, let alone love her.
She’d observed love on sitcoms and sometimes in the homes of friends. She dreamed of it, obsessed over it, created fantasies around it. In her teenage years, she confused sex with love. When she got older, men promised all sorts of things to get in her pants. She learned to shield her heart against their brand of fast-food love. Yet, somewhere buried under the hurt and disappointment hid a little girl longing to be loved.
She’d made a poor choice. Again. Jake Reynolds didn’t love her. He liked her. He respected her work. He enjoyed her body. But not love. No. Not him. Not in this lifetime. Rich boys from wealthy families didn’t take up with girls from the wrong side of the tracks. Especially, not twice. Jake had been there and done that once before.
Harlee’s gaze slid back to the table Jake bused with single-minded determination. She’d enjoy what she had while she had it. She deserved a nice guy like him, even if only as a temporary fling.
He glanced over his shoulder and caught her watching. A slow smile stretched the corners of his mouth. He winked and blew her a kiss. “Get to work, Goldie. You aren’t keeping this horny guy waiting much longer. Especially if you want to earn that tip.”
“Yes, sir.” Harlee worked double-time. She banished those stupid thoughts of love and concentrated on sex, instead. Sex, she could handle. Love, forget it.
Harlee put the last glass away, and Jake stacked the last chair on a table. They headed for the door at the same time. Jake held her coat for her to slip into it. She did so awkwardly.
“Not used to a guy holding your coat for you?” Jake whispered in her ear. He let his tongue linger on her earlobe and gave it a little tug with his teeth. Harlee drew in a sharp breath.
“No, I’m not.”
“Then we’re even. I’m not used to holding a woman’s coat for her.”
“I figured you were the type that did that all the time.”
“Hell, no.” Jake turned her around and pulled her into his arms. “My mother always said my manners were appalling.”
Their bulky coats got in the way, but that didn’t deter Jake. He slipped his hands under her tight T-shirt and rubbed the skin at her waist. She looked up and rested her hands on his broad shoulders. He smelled of some wonderful brand of aftershave probably not purchased at the local drug store.
Jake pushed her against the door and lowered his face to hers. The second their lips touched, the world disintegrated around them. Jake’s mouth ate at hers with a hunger she encouraged and returned. Hot, wet, messy, he challenged her to equal his appetite. No problem there. She tasted beer and man—her man for as long as she could keep him.
Gasping, she turned her head away from his. “Let’s get out of here.”
* * * *
They barely made it in the house.
Jake deposited her on the kitchen counter. Harlee stripped, spread, and surrendered, in that order, and let him have his way with her.
She felt fulfilled. At peace. Cherished.
In love.
Chapter 14—Fired for the Weekend
In love?
No, she didn’t fall in love. Love was for teenagers and idiots. She didn’t do that. She knew her limits and her possibilities.
Harlee hid her face in Jake’s shoulder, mortified that he might misread her expression as love, especially considering she’d misread her own reactions. She wasn’t in love. She’d concede being in lust or infatuated. After all, women built fantasies around men like Jake. Nothing wrong with indulging in a few fantasies. Just nothing more permanent—for her own good.
Too much thinking and not enough action—that was the problem. She nuzzled his neck and r
elished even the simplest things about him, such as the unique taste of his skin and the sound of his steady breathing. She tucked away the taste, scent, and feel of him for the future when all she’d have would be her memories.
His breath tickled her neck, and he spoke. “Let’s go to bed, babe.”
She nodded, laid her head against his shoulder, and wrapped her legs and arms around his body. He placed his hands on her bottom and lifted her off the counter. Still inside her, he carried her to the bedroom. After pulling back the covers, he lay her down and joined her. They snuggled together wrapped in the blankets and each other.
Igor leapt on the bed and curled on the pillow next to Harlee’s head. She stroked the little rat’s fur. Dogs stuck with you, no matter what. They didn’t care who, what, or where you’d been.
“Was he watching us?” Jake wondered.
“I think so.”
“Little pervert. We’re going to have to find him a Fifi so he leaves us alone.”
Harlee forced a laugh, but her heart sank. He was a smooth one, her Jake. He gave her little hints, here and there, that he’d be around for the long haul. Harlee knew better, but she’d survive. She’d mastered the art of survival years ago. In fact, she prided herself on being strong and making the best of any situation.
Focus, focus, focus, Harlee warned herself. She couldn’t lose sight of her goal—to save Rosehill Camp.
Jake lifted himself to one elbow and regarded her with interest. “What has you so serious?”
Harlee smiled at him, making it warm and seductive. “I’m seriously thinking of other ways I’d like to have you.”
His eyebrows rose, and he grinned. “Well, baby, think some more. I’m at your mercy.”
Harlee reached between his legs and stroked him. He groaned at the touch of her hand and lay still.
Talking was dangerous. She’d see to it that he didn’t talk. After all, her techniques were flawless. She used her mouth and hands on him from his chest down past his belly button. He gripped the sheets in his fists and didn’t move. And yes, he forgot to talk.
* * * *
“Mariah, Jake won’t destroy the camp.”
“Harlee, this is business to him. He doesn’t have a personal stake in the camp like we do.”
“But Jake has a heart.”
“I know, but he likes to hide it.”
“Yeah, typical man.” Harlee smiled at the thought of Jake’s softer side.
“Harlee, you won’t be comfortable working for him after that camp is destroyed. Especially considering your relationship with him. Rico and I have a job offer for you.” Mariah’s words startled her back to their conversation.
“Job offer?”
“Uh huh. We’ve bought acreage adjacent to our Malibu estate. We’re building a horse facility. A very nice one. Roger, my dressage trainer, agreed to be the head trainer once it’s completed, but I need a manager. Are you interested?”
“Mariah, I’m at a loss for words. You know this is what I’ve always dreamed of doing.” Her emotions warred with each other, as her dreams collided head-on with her heart.
That meant leaving Jake.
Forever.
Then again, there wasn’t any Jake and her forever. Just Jake and her for right now. Even tomorrow was an iffy proposition.
Mariah must have sensed her hesitation. “Harlee, you’ll have your own apartment. We’ll make sure you have time to ride and take regular lessons from Roger. You’ll have your pick of horses.”
Mariah was offering her the chance of a lifetime. Her dream job come true. That was her future. “When does it start?”
“We just broke ground on the barn and arena. The contractor says six months. Rico says a year.”
“That’s about right in contractor-speak.”
“If you want to move here earlier, that’s okay, too. You can work for me part-time getting things organized. Roger said he can always use one more groom.”
“Can I think about it?”
“Sure. The job is yours. I really need a commitment by the end of the year.”
“I’ll let you know.”
“I need your help with this, Harlee.”
“I really appreciate the offer.”
She could work for Mariah and be part of a family that cared for her. The perfect solution to her life. A life without Jake. Harlee sighed. She didn’t want to leave him. Not until she ran out of options.
* * * *
Jake drove the nail into the board with only three vicious smacks from his hammer. Not bad. Now if he could pound away these conflicting emotions swirling in his head.
He wiped the sweat from his brow and glanced at his watch. Sunday afternoon and he was working on this godforsaken resort pavilion when he could be cuddled next to Harlee on the couch watching football. The woman loved football almost as much as he did. Incredible. Too incredible. She fit in his life in ways he was afraid to explore. Two nights with her, and his former lovers faded from memory until they were as hazy as the morning mist on Cascade Bay.
Two nights. He’d fired her until Monday, the assumption being that they’d sleep together over the weekend and be done with their attraction to each other. Brilliant idea, Reynolds. Too bad it stunk.
No way did he want to call it quits. Hell, he wanted to sleep with her from now until…Until when? He guessed till he got tired of her and she got tired of him. Or until the camp came between them and shattered all the good feelings.
“Hey, a million bucks for your thoughts.”
Jake almost slammed the hammer on his thumb. “Damn it, Brad. Where’d you come from?”
“The same place you did.”
“Funny. Very funny.” Jake tried to hold the board and pound a nail in it. “A million bucks for my thoughts?”
“Well, we are Reynolds, aren’t we?” Brad held the end of the board while Jake nailed it in place.
“Yeah, we are. Running from Carson again, I see.”
“Yeah. You could say that. And Bridget, too?”
“Bridget? What’s she up to?”
“This tarot card stuff has gotten out of hand. Now she’s a spiritual person. You should hear the garbage she spouts.”
“She’s a flake. It’ll be something different tomorrow.”
“I know.”
“How’d you find me?”
“I stopped by your place. Harlee’s cooking up a culinary storm. You are inviting me to dinner, aren’t you?”
“Uh, yeah. Then you have to leave.”
“What? We can’t hang together?”
“Not tonight.”
“I see.” Brad really did see. “So much for keeping it professional.”
“Don’t rub it in.”
Brad shrugged. “Hey, I like her. She’s good for you.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah, I really do.” Brad picked up another board for Jake to nail in place. “So if you’re doing the wild thing with her, why are you so bummed?”
“It’s that camp. That damned camp.”
“Let me guess. I bet your problem’s that camp. That damn camp.” Brad grinned.
“Asshole.”
“Thanks. From you, that’s the highest compliment I’ll ever get.”
“Damn straight.”
“I don’t know what to do about it.” Jake whacked the nail as it if symbolized all his troubles.
“Yeah, I know. Why don’t you back out?”
“I can’t. Every time I feel guilty about the camp, I have to remind myself of all the ways that development will legitimize my business. Even Dad and Carson will have to sit up and take notice.”
“They’ll notice, all right, but what is it that you want?”
With a frustrated groan, Jake removed his tool belt. “I wish I knew.” He did know that avoiding Harlee wasn’t the answer. It was time to go home and face the music and past time to be a man and talk to her.
“I’m calling it a day,” Jake announced.
“Cool. I’ll s
top by the store for some beer and be along shortly. I’m starved and whatever she was cooking smelled damn good.” Brad hightailed it out of there. That guy had one perpetually empty stomach.
Heavenly smells assaulted Jake’s senses when he walked in the back door of the old farmhouse several minutes later. The rat dog greeted him, yapping something in dog language, probably obscenities. Jake imagined the little mutt had quite a mouth on him. But then he’d probably been raised on the streets.
He found Harlee in the kitchen, wearing an apron and cooking up a small tsunami. The football game blared on the living room TV.
He leaned toward her and kissed her lips. “Hey, babe.” Shit, he could get used to this. The smells, the warmth, the security of it. He sniffed again. “Are you baking bread?”
She nodded and kissed him back. Her sapphire eyes sparkled with joy. “I hope you don’t mind me making myself at home.”
“Not at all. It smells great. What else are you cooking?” A cake sat on the counter. He stuck his finger in the frosting and savored the rich chocolate and cream.
“I’m making a pork loin roast.”
“Yum. How’s the game going?”
“Hawks are winning, but it’s only halftime. Twenty-one–seven.”
“Great. By the way, Brad’s joining us.”
She nodded, not the least bit surprised.
Jake hesitated then took her hands in his. She tried to pull free, but he held on. His timing might not be the best, but he had to talk before he lost his nerve. “Harlee, I don’t know where we should go with this.”
“How about we just go where it takes us. No promises, no expectations, just two people enjoying each other’s company.” Jake tried to read her expression, but she played her cards close to her chest.
“I guess so.”
“Can I have my job back?”
“Uh, sure.” As long as he could have his heart back.
She squeezed his hand. “I won’t sue you, no matter what happens.”
“I know.” He did know. Suing wasn’t her style. She tried to smile, but it didn’t quite work. “I have some good news,” she said with false cheerfulness.
Who's Been Sleeping in My Bed? Page 18
