“Harlee? No way.”
“I think she’d been to see your father.”
“Boy. That’s something.” Great minds think alike or what? Unfortunately, they’d been at cross-purposes. He wondered what Harlee hoped to accomplish by that visit and what his father might have said to her. Whatever it’d been, it never got back to him.
“Jake, you’re not caving to all the pressure, are you?” Carson spoke for the first time.
“Huh? Me? No. What makes you think that?”
“You seem…upset.” If he didn’t know better, he’d swear Carson’s eyes were shadowed with concern.
“I’m fine.”
“I don’t think so. I think you’re having second thoughts. Don’t screw this up, Jake.” Now there was the Carson he knew and resented.
“I’m warning you,” Warren cut in. “This goes through tomorrow, or I’ll ruin you, and not just financially. You’ll never get work in this state again. Not to mention, I’ll take everything you have. You’ll be lucky to be left with your underwear.”
Jake doubted Warren had the power or clout to blackball him in the construction business. But his father and Carson possessed that kind of power. As far as taking everything, he didn’t doubt Warren for a minute. That he could and would do, not that there’d be anything left.
The phone rang again, and Warren snatched it up. Another reporter judging by Warren’s responses. Jake took advantage of the situation and escaped with Carson hot on his heels. Jumping in his truck, he slammed and locked the door before Carson reached him.
Mindlessly, Jake careened down the curvy island roads. He surprised himself when he turned down the camp’s driveway. Jake parked his truck next to the cottage and got out. Without Harlee, the cottage looked as lonely and deserted as he felt.
Jake walked to the porch and peered in the window. He laid his cheek against the cool glass and closed his eyes. He could almost smell the rose scent of the soap she used on her creamy skin and feel the silk of her hair wrapped around his body.
Jake spun around and walked past the camp buildings. Built from old-growth fir, the lodge would be the first to go. He admired the heavy timbers and construction of the old building. They didn’t build them like that anymore; too costly and the materials weren’t available.
By the end of the week, the remaining buildings would be gone. The entire site would be leveled. The old firs and cedars would fall next. He looked up, trying to spot the tops of the trees. They’d taken over one hundred years to grow to this height. Chainsaws could cut them down in five minutes or less.
Was he doing the right thing? Were the personal benefits worth destroying something that had done so much good? He wondered if he could live with himself if he went through with it. Did he have the right? The legal right belonged to him, but did the moral right?
Maybe the ancient Native Americans had the right idea. They didn’t believe in ownership of land. They believed each person had stewardship of the land to protect it for the next generation. Did this island need another big resort catering to the wealthy? Or did it need someone to put people before monetary gain. He shook his head. That wasn’t the way of his “me first” generation.
Damn, heavy stuff like this made his head ache. What he’d give for a piece of the old irresponsible, spoiled, selfish Jake. The demolition company was scheduled to start in the morning, and he didn’t have any more answers now than he did a month ago.
A twig snapped, and he jerked his head in that direction. Harlee and Igor walked through the woods toward the clearing. Were they saying a last goodbye?
Jake hesitated. If he slipped back into the trees, she’d never see him. That’d be the chickenshit approach. Besides, he wanted to talk to her, no matter how angry she might be at him and he might be at her.
“Harlee.”
She jumped and swung around to face him. The rat dog sat down on his haunches and regarded him with contempt. Even the damn dog was mad at him.
“What are you doing here?” Her eyes accused of him all kinds of transgressions against mankind. It wasn’t like he was raping, pillaging, and plundering. He’d just wanted to build a frigging resort.
“Me? I own this place. Or did you forget that?” He couldn’t help that little dig, just to let her know he still controlled the situation. Or at least, he pretended he did.
She stuck her cute nose in the air and sniffed as if offended by some rotten odor, obviously him. “Would it be too much to ask to be left alone?”
“Yes,” he answered quietly. “I’m not leaving.”
“Are you planning your strategy for the morning?”
He shook his head, concentrating his attention on a Madrona tree. The damn thing’s trunk changed direction as much as his convictions. Jake looked up, feeling alone and vulnerable, and met Harlee’s sapphire eyes. “You’re killing me, Harlee.”
* * * *
She didn’t know how to take that. Despite her irritation, her heart flipped upside down and remained there. “Physically, mentally, or emotionally?”
“All three.”
“You look like hell. Aren’t you sleeping?” His eyes seemed as desolate as Death Valley. This situation was taking its toll.
He raked his fingers through his short hair and sighed. “What do you think? I have people calling me all hours of the day and night, reporters hounding me, my picture on the evening news, and neighbors and friends avoiding me like I’m contagious. You get the picture. You and your group have painted me as a real bad guy. I might as well sprout horns, make my favorite color red, and learn to enjoy life in a more temperate climate.”
“I don’t think you’re the devil. You’re a man doing what you think is right for your reasons. I’m a woman doing what I have to do for my reasons.”
“And our reasons are at odds with each other.”
She almost smiled. “Obviously.” Or they’d be exercising on a mattress instead of guarding their fragile hearts. Her eyes skimmed over his broad shoulders and narrow hips. She’d never feel the ecstasy of that strong body joined with hers again. Never grasp that great ass or wrap her legs around his waist. Those dark eyes would never hold hers in their hypnotic spell. The world wouldn’t drop out from underneath them as they went on a wild ride to paradise. Even worse, she’d never again talk to him about her hopes and dreams, her future, his future, and just life in general. Never, never, never again.
She reached out to touch his skin just one more time. She traced the lines of his chiseled jaw and strong cheekbones with her finger. Jake tensed under her touch but didn’t pull away. He captured her hand and laid a kiss on her palm. Regret shone in his eyes.
She moved to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. His arms went around her waist and tugged her close to his warm body. They held each other and found a small comfort in sharing their misery.
“Oh, Jake.” She pressed her mouth against his neck and tasted his skin. He tasted of man, her man.
With a sad smile, he released her. “Good-bye, Harlee.”
She clung to him for a moment longer. He backed up a few steps to put space between them. Her hands slipped from his body to fall at her sides. Empty. Like her insides.
She watched him walk away. She wanted to run after him, throw her arms around him, and declare her love forever. Instead, she stood her ground until he disappeared into the woods.
Picking up Igor, Harlee cradled him in her arms. He licked the tears from her face as she cried for the man who’d never be hers.
Chapter 22—A Drama Queen Day
Jake woke at dawn. He showered, dressed, and stalled as long as he could. Finally, he walked the forest path to the camp. By now, the morning ferry would have arrived. The demolition crew with their equipment would have descended on the quiet island. And so would have everyone else.
Jake wanted to take care of business, disappear into the woodwork, and forget he ever heard of a place called Rosehill and a woman named Harlee Davis. As if he could ever forget.
/> He wondered if any of his family would be present to witness this debacle. Surely, they had better things to do than watch disaster in the making. Oddly enough, he hadn’t heard a peep from any of them last night. It was enough to make a suspicious guy paranoid. With a heavy sigh of a man resigned to his fate, he walked closer to the end of his life as he knew it.
Nearing the lodge, Jake heard a commotion. Oh, shit. This might be worse than he’d imagined. He hesitated then belittled himself for his cowardice. Squaring his shoulders, he marched into the clearing and stopped dead in his tracks.
“Oh, no,” he muttered under his breath. Several dozen people wandered about the area. Doughnuts and coffee sat on a long table near the lodge. A glimpse of honey-blonde hair drew his eyes to the main attraction.
Oh, shit.
Harlee and Eva had handcuffed themselves to separate posts on the lodge porch.
Oblivious to the drama unfolding around him, Brad stood to one side stuffing doughnuts in his mouth. Rico entertained the cameramen and reporters with the ease of a consummate professional—the man was in his element. Mariah stood nearby, uncharacteristically chewing on a fingernail. A classy, well-dressed older woman stood beside her. His mother—oh, God, not his mother. She observed the entire spectacle with the regal air of royalty. A handful of protestors lazed around the perimeter, not interested in expending much energy while the cameras were focused elsewhere.
Carson and Warren were gathered near the demolition crew, probably discussing tactics with Bob Parish. While Jill, hands propped on her hips, scowled at the world. Bridget had shanghaied a reporter and was expounding on the virtues of the resort, digging their grave ever deeper. Conspicuously missing from his immediate family was his father.
Jake skirted the milling crowd. He paused to glare at his sister, but she didn’t shut up. From her handcuffed position nearby, Eva chanted some kind of nonsense in an attempt to disrupt his sister’s interview.
As if on cue, the small gaggle of media types spotted him, the reigning villain in this scenario. Abandoning Rico, they jockeyed for position with their cameras and microphones. A half-dozen reporters shouted questions. The protesters, seeing their opening, marched around him chanting phrases like “Long live Rosehill.” One industrious individual had his own agenda and carried a large sign painted in neon colors, touting “Save the whales.”
Three San Juan County sheriff’s deputies stood to one side, hands clasped behind their backs. They were wearing their version of riot gear, which looked suspiciously like motorcycle helmets and ski vests.
Jake groaned. He’d been dropped in the middle of either a low-budget horror film or a very bad nightmare. Shoving microphones out of his face, he approached the porch. “What the hell is this?” His gaze shifted from Harlee to Eva. They craned their necks around to see him.
“We’re taking a page from the tree huggers’ book. Let them bulldoze us. We will not be moved.” Eva announced with great drama and in a loud voice. The media moved in like dogs on the scent of a good story.
“I say let’s bulldoze them,” Bridget played to the media, unmindful or uncaring that she was making an idiot out of herself.
“Oh, brother.”
“No, sister, I’d say,” Brad whispered, munching a donut in his ear. Jake rolled his eyes.
Harlee’s sapphire eyes met his, reflecting an odd mixture of regret and determination. Jake vacillated between wanting to strangle her and kiss her. He buried the kissing thoughts and concentrated on the strangling. It was much more rewarding.
He leaned down and lowered his voice. “Harlee, why did you have to do all this?”
“You didn’t leave me a choice.” She looked away. A lone tear left a wet trail down her cheek and dropped on her coat. She couldn’t wipe it off with her hands bound. Jake resisted the urge to wipe away that tear and any others she might shed. It wasn’t the place or time. But then, it might never be the right place or time again. His heart thudded in protest, and he turned away, unable to face her.
Brad moved closer and spoke loud enough to be heard over the din. “What are you going to do now?”
“I’m about to commit corporate and professional suicide then I’ll deal with the personal portion.”
Jake strode away before Brad could ask another question.
* * * *
Harlee watched Jake as he approached the demolition crew. He had every right to be furious with her, yet he seemed more dejected than mad.
His behavior didn’t make sense. He should be ready to spit nails. After all, they were grandstanding to get publicity, and he knew it.
Handcuffing themselves to the porch had been Eva’s idea, and Harlee figured every little bit helped. The more pressure on Jake, the better for their cause, the worse for their relationship. Not that there was a relationship anymore or ever would be. She’d decimated those bridges with cruise missiles aimed right at his pocketbook, and even worse, his heart and his family’s respect.
She’d never set out to hurt Jake. Heck, she’d never wanted to hurt herself either. Regardless, she’d done a bang-up job of both. The results of her devious efforts better be worth the devastation.
She shifted her rear end to find a more comfortable spot. The boards on the porch were hard, and it never occurred to her to bring a pillow. On the other hand, Eva had a yoga mat. It appeared she had some experience in this area.
Another reporter was interviewing Bridget. She basked in the spotlight more than Rico did. Harlee half listened to her spout all this stuff about fate, and her karma, and having to do the right thing, while Eva, as her former spiritual advisor, chanted louder and prayed for her soul.
A sudden hush drew Harlee’s attention. The shootout at Rosehill Corral was about to commence.
The sides didn’t appear to be as clearly drawn as expected. Warren met Jake halfway, flanked by Carson and Bob Parish. Brad stuck to Jake’s side. The four men stopped several feet from Harlee and faced each other. The media and protesters backed off a little, watching warily from a safe distance. Jill hovered on the fringes of the crowd like a vulture waiting to pick the bones dry. Eva with her back to the action griped about not being able to see.
“Shut up,” Harlee hissed. “I can’t hear.”
Eva grumbled something unspiritual but shut her mouth.
Why was Jake facing Warren, instead of standing with him? Unless? She didn’t dare hope. He’d been so adamant about going through with his plans. Why change them now?
Warren spoke first. “We need to get started, Jake. The clock’s running. Do you want to get rid of these people or should I. This is private property. They’re trespassing.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Harlee strained to hear Jake’s words. His voice was deadly quiet.
Warren frowned. “What?”
“Take your men and head back to the ferry, Parish. I’ll see that you’re compensated for your time.”
“What the hell are you saying, Jake?” Warren roared.
“There won’t be any demolition. I spoke with the camp director this morning. I’m renewing their lease for the next twenty-five years.”
A collective cheer rose from the small crowd. Jake didn’t react. Carson let out a groan of disgust. Bridget and Brad stared at Jake as if he’d lost his mind. He had. Warren turned redder than a hooker’s lipstick. The media moved in closer, anticipating bloodshed.
“You fucking idiot!” Warren lunged at Jake, but Carson and Brad were quicker. They grabbed Warren’s arms and dragged him out of striking range from Jake. Warren continued to rave like a crazy man. The veins stood out in his neck and his eyes bulged as he struggled to free himself. “I’ll sue your ass off! You’ll be ruined! Ruined, you hear me? What the hell are you thinking?”
Warren threatened Jake with every form of retribution known to the civilized world, from castration to a lobotomy, not to mention condemning him to live in a cardboard box in an alley. Unfortunately, that wasn’t so far from the truth.
“Warre
n…” Carson attempted to calm him. “You’re making a public scene. We’ll straighten this out privately within the family.” Carson held up a hand to silence Bridget who was building up to detonation. “Not one word out of you. Any of you.” He looked from Brad to Bridget to Warren. When Carson looked like that, no one dared cross him. Satisfied he’d averted a public family showdown, Carson turned to Jake, his voice a low growl. “Do you have any idea what you just did?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” Jake nodded with grim acceptance of his fate.
Warren lowered his voice but not much. “You had no right to make such an agreement without my consent, all of our consent.”
“I guess we can fight about that in court, but for now, the agreement stands. I’m the construction supervisor.”
“You bastard. I should’ve known better than to be partners with the family loser.”
“That’s enough, Warren,” Carson tightened his grip on Warren’s arm. When push came to shove, the Reynolds brothers stuck together even when their opinions differed. Carson’s menacing glare warned their cousin to back off. “It’s time for you to leave. Shall I escort you off the island or call the police?”
“Coward. Do you switch sides depending on which way the wind blows?”
Carson’s expression didn’t change. “Let’s go.” He yanked on Warren’s arm.
Bridget trailed after them, whining. “Carson, what am I going to do for money now?”
“Get a job,” Carson answered through gritted teeth.
Warren shot one last look at Jake over his shoulder. “You’ll be sorry, Jake. More sorry than you can ever imagine. I’ll see to it that you have nothing left when I’m done with you. Nothing.”
Jake didn’t move a muscle.
Parish studied Jake’s granite expression and shrugged. “Okay, guys, let’s get out of here.” He motioned to his crew. They gathered their tools and loaded their equipment.
Who's Been Sleeping in My Bed? Page 27
