"Jordan's got the best help already. Where does that leave the rest of us?"
It took her a moment to figure out what he was saying. "Oh, well, I won't be working on his house too long." She felt her smile freeze on her face. Did he know that she was going to be living with Jordan? Well, not exactly living with him. They would be in the same house but not living together.
Kyle glanced at his watch. "You close at five, right?"
She nodded. There weren't any customers in the store, so there was no point in staying open late.
"Are you packed?" he asked.
"P-packed?" She had the answer to her question.
"That's why I'm here. Jordan asked me to help you move your things." He glanced down. "There you are, sweet girl. I'd wondered where you'd run off to." He bent over and picked up Mistletoe. "Jordan said you were a miserable excuse for a cat, but you're just picky about who you like, aren't you? You have excellent taste." As he spoke, he stroked the cat's gray ears and under her chin. She purred her pleasure.
"It's really not fair," Holly said, watching the two of them. "Jordan saved her life, but she doesn't care."
"It's a personality thing. My brother doesn't have any."
Holly bristled. "He does, too. Jordan is very nice. Charming, funny, sweet…" Her voice trailed off when she realized Kyle was staring at her.
He raised his eyebrow, then spoke to Mistletoe. "We think Holly likes Jordan, don't we?"
Mistletoe declined to comment.
"You tricked me," Holly muttered, wondering if he thought she was a fool.
"Just doing a background check," Kyle said, his voice kind. "Jordan's been out of the mainstream for a while. We were all surprised to hear about you."
"I'm not… We're just … friends."
He set Mistletoe on the counter, then leaned close. "It's okay, Holly. You don't have to explain anything to me. And for what it's worth, Jordan likes you, too. Now, go pack your things."
It only took her about fifteen minutes to gather her few belongings together. Kyle carried them to her car, then put Mistletoe in her basket. He set the cat carefully on the front seat.
"I'll follow you over to Jordan's and help you unload."
"You don't have to do that," she protested.
"I want to." He closed the passenger door.
Holly started the engine. Confusion clouded her mind, and she drove automatically.
Kyle had said that Jordan liked her. Was it true? Did he? And if he did, what did it mean? Her stomach tightened with nerves. Oh, my, if he liked her, she couldn't live with him. But she wanted him to like her – didn't she?
"Now what?" she asked aloud.
It didn't matter. So what if they liked each other? They were friends, nothing more. They certainly weren't going to have a relationship. Jordan wouldn't want a woman like her. He would want someone sophisticated and experienced. Besides, she didn't want a relationship, either. People had always let her down. An emotional commitment would require trust, and she wasn't ready for that. She might never be ready.
But he'd kissed her.
That kiss. She couldn't forget it. Last night it had haunted her dreams, awakening her time and again. She'd lain in bed listening to her heart pounding, feeling strange heat in her body, fighting a restlessness she didn't understand.
That kiss had been the most amazing thing she'd ever experienced. However, she didn't have a whole lot of experience. This was the nineties. People kissed all the time. Jordan had probably forgotten that it had happened. She would be foolish to think it made any difference.
By the time she arrived at Jordan's house, she'd nearly convinced herself that was true.
Louise met them at the door. "Jordan's asleep," she said, then pressed her finger to her lips. "He spiked another fever today. He's been grouchy as a grizzly, so I'll thank you to be quiet. The longer he sleeps, the better for me."
She looked at Holly. "I can't tell you how happy I am that you're going to be here. I'll still take care of him, but I'm sure he'll be in a better mood with you around. Your bedroom is through here."
She led the way up the stairs. The third door on the left was open. Holly stepped inside and gave a start of surprise. The room was beautiful.
Original wallpaper – a pattern of cream background covered with pale blue roses – gave the room a cozy feel. A nineteenth-century four-poster bed stood in the center of the room. The dresser matched. There was a tall wardrobe instead of a closet, and several throw rugs on the hardwood floor. A small table and two chairs provided a conversation area in front of a window.
"It's stunning," she said softly.
"I thought you'd like this better than one of the remodeled bedrooms."
Kyle entered and set her suitcases on the bed. "You really want to sleep with all this old stuff?" he asked.
Louise slapped his arm. "You've always had more charm than sense."
"That's why you love me." He leaned down and kissed Louise's cheek.
She made a humph noise in her throat. "Get on back to your family."
Kyle walked over to Holly and gave her a quick hug. "Call me if you need anything."
He left the room.
Holly stared after him amazed that she'd been accepted as easily as that.
"The bathroom is new," Louise said, pointing to a door on the left side of the room. She crossed to the bed and opened the basket. Mistletoe stuck her head out. "I'll bet you're hungry."
The cat meowed.
"I thought so." Louise patted her head, then started for the door. "You go ahead and unpack. I'll feed Mistletoe, then come up and check on you."
"Thanks."
Holly hung the clothes she wore at the store in the wardrobe. She was still surprised by everything that had happened. Jordan's family was accepting her as if they'd known her for years. She wasn't sure why. Were they like this with everyone? She knew three of the brothers worked in law enforcement. She would have expected them to be suspicious of strangers.
Louise returned with a tray. She set it on the table. "Hot cocoa and cookies. A little snack to tide you over until Jordan wakes up."
"How's he doing?"
Louise shrugged. "His fever seems better, and he's sleeping. It's his own fault. He's been doing too much. His body needs rest."
Holly nibbled on her bottom lip. Was the fever her fault? Yesterday she and Jordan had shared a passionate kiss. Could that have been too much for him?
"Have a seat," Louise said as she took one chair. She was wearing a fire-engine red jumpsuit unbuttoned low enough to show off impressive cleavage. Her earrings were a cascade of crystal and red beads that hung nearly to her shoulders. Makeup accentuated her blue eyes.
Holly sank into the chair and took the offered mug of cocoa. "I'm so confused," she said.
"About?"
"Everything. Jordan's family is being nice to me."
"So?"
"They don't know me. I could be a horrible person."
Louise laughed. "Not if you lived another five hundred years." Her smile faded. "You remember the story of the Three Musketeers?"
Holly nodded.
"That's the Haynes boys. All for one and one for all. They look out for each other. If one of them likes someone, that person is drawn into the family. That's what happened to Austin, and to me."
"How long have you known the family?"
Louise took a sip of her cocoa. "I knew the boys' father. Earl Haynes was the sheriff when I was growing up. He was as good-looking as his sons. They're good men, but Earl had the devil in him. He liked ladies, and they had a hard time resisting him."
She was silent, remembering a past Holly didn't share. For a moment Holly wondered if Louise had a connection to Earl Haynes, but realized that was unlikely. Someone would have said something about it.
Louise shook herself, as if tossing off memories. "Anyway, once they got word that Jordan invited you to stay here, they took that to mean you were being accepted. Now you're part of the family."
"Tha
t's impossible. They don't know me."
Louise looked at her a long time. Her blue eyes were sad. "You have any family?"
"No. My mother died three years ago, and she was my last relative."
"I understand that. I'm alone, too. Sometimes it gets damn ugly. The Haynes boys invited me into their circle, except for Jordan, of course. I don't belong, but they let me pretend. I'm grateful to them. Come Christmas, I'm going to be in a house full of children and laughter. They remember my birthday. It sure beats spending those times alone."
Without thinking, Holly stretched out her hand. Louise took it and smiled. "Aren't we a sorry pair," the housekeeper said lightly.
"I think we're very lucky. I'm glad you're my friend."
Louise sniffed. "Don't go getting all emotional on me," she said, setting her mug on the tray and standing up. "I'll end up with my mascara under my eyes. I hate it when that happens. I'm going to go start dinner. Then I've got class with Professor Wilson."
Holly followed her down the stairs, then detoured into Jordan's study. He was asleep with the sheet bunched up around his waist.
Dark hair narrowed as it arrowed down his belly. Where the sheet dipped dangerously low, she saw the first hint of black curls that surrounded his—
Holly jerked her attention to his face. Oh, God, he was naked! She'd never seen a naked man before. She had a vague idea of what they would look like down there, but no real practical experience.
Before she started to hyperventilate, she reminded herself this was a sickroom. Jordan needed her care and concern, not her adolescent interest.
There was a bowl of water on the nightstand. She dampened the washcloth Louise had left, then brushed it over Jordan's face. She could feel the heat radiating from him. She sat on the edge of the bed and continued to cool him. She ran the cloth over his chest and his arms.
The familiar ministrations were almost comforting. She'd done this countless times for her mother. The fact that Jordan was a man didn't matter. It was all about healing.
She murmured soothingly, telling him he would soon be better. The fever would break, and his strength would return. Over and over she dipped the cloth in the water, squeezed it dry, then brushed it over his chest and face. After twenty minutes he opened his eyes.
"Holly?"
"I'm right here. How do you feel?"
He squinted at her, then cleared his throat. "Hot."
"You've got a fever. Do you want some water?"
"Yeah."
She raised the bed slightly, then poured a glass from the pitcher. He tilted his head forward. She shifted so she could support his shoulders, then held the glass to his mouth. He sipped slowly.
When he was done, she continued to stroke him with the cloth. With her free hand she touched his face, then his arm. His eyes fluttered closed.
"That's nice," he said.
"You're trying to do too much," she told him. "You've got to concentrate on getting better."
He opened one eye. "And I was about to tell you how glad I was to see you. I take it all back."
She smiled.
"Did Kyle get you moved?"
"Yes. I'm right upstairs." She leaned closer and brushed his hair off his forehead.
His eyes opened, and he stared at her. She was close enough to kiss him. She refused to think about that. Right now he needed a nurse.
"You brought that damn cat, didn't you?"
"Of course." She moved the washcloth across his chest.
"It's good that I know you," he muttered.
"What do you mean?"
"You're the touchingest nurse I've ever met. If I wasn't so sure you were innocent, I would swear you were coming on to me."
Holly froze. In her mind's eye she saw how this must look to him. She was sitting on his bed with her hips pressing intimately against his. One hand caressed his face while the other stroked his chest. Okay, the hand on his chest held a washcloth, but that was just window dressing.
"I…" She closed her mouth and wished she could die.
"Don't stop," he said. "I like the attention. I know you mean it impersonally, like a nurse, but my body doesn't exactly understand." He reached for the sheet.
Holly sprang to her feet. When all he did was draw the material up to his chest, she realized she'd overreacted. She dropped the washcloth and pressed her hand to her face. She was going to die. Absolutely die.
She turned on her heel and raced from the room.
"Holly, wait!" Jordan called after her.
She ignored him and kept running. When she reached the cool quiet of her room, she threw herself on her bed and shut her eyes.
How could she have been so silly? Why had she made a fool of herself? It was horrible. She was never going to be able to face Jordan again.
She heard a faint meow-purr, then Mistletoe jumped on the bed and sniffed her face.
"Your mother is a fool," she said, pulling the soft cat down next to her. Mistletoe settled against her side.
What must Jordan be thinking about her? She so wanted to impress him. It was obvious she didn't have a clue as to how to act around men, and he was the last male she should be practicing on.
She wanted to run away and never face him again. The only problem with that plan was the reality of the situation. She had just moved into Jordan's house. This time there was no escape.
* * *
Chapter 7
« ^ »
Jordan had heard Holly come into the house, but so far she hadn't come looking for him. At first he'd told himself she was busy, but after nearly an hour he knew she was avoiding him. The big question was why?
What had he done or said to offend her? He didn't remember much about the previous evening. As Louise had delighted in informing him when he'd finally awakened from a long and restless sleep, his overactivity had caused him to spike another fever. If he kept this up much longer, he was going to fry his brain.
He'd thanked the housekeeper for her concern and had privately agreed with her assessment. He had to start following the doctor's instructions, or he was never going to get well. That meant staying off his feet most of the time. Which he planned to do, just as soon as he found out what was wrong with Holly.
Moving slowly, he peeled back the sheet and swung his feet to the floor. There was a pair of jeans tossed casually over the nightstand. He grabbed them and tugged them on. He considered a shirt, but didn't think he had the strength. Besides, Holly had seen him bare-chested before and hadn't seemed to notice. He doubted she was going to start now.
He braced himself on the bed and nightstand, then pushed to his feet. The muscles in his legs trembled but didn't give way. After a couple of minutes he felt strong enough to start walking.
Louise had left nearly an hour before. He'd heard her car pull out right after Holly had arrived. The house was huge, and Holly could be anywhere. Once in the hallway, he stopped and listened, then followed the faint scraping sound coming from the dining room.
He grabbed the railing and climbed the three stairs to that level, then rounded the corner. The large crystal chandelier's light filled the room. A radio sat in one corner of the bare floor. Strains of classical music drifted toward him. Holly had pushed a drop cloth close to one wall. A piece of plywood resting on two sawhorses gave her a large work space. There were bottles and brushes, a few cans and a spatula. He took all that in quickly before turning his attention to her.
She stood with her back to him, carefully peeling off strips of wallpaper. She wore jeans that hugged the curves of her hips, rear end and thighs. For a moment he couldn't think about anything but holding her against him. He wanted to trace the curves, cup her softness, touch her, taste her, be with her, in her.
Although he hadn't dated in a while, when he had, he hadn't favored one particular type of woman. He found all their bodies attractive, all their differences intriguing. But looking at Holly, he felt a stirring deep inside, as if she aroused him on a more primal level. He wasn't sure why. She wasn't f
ashion-model thin, but in his mind that was the best part. He tried not to think about how she would feel on top of him, her breasts spilling into his hands, her legs brushing against his.
He swallowed hard and ignored the pressure between his legs. Holly raised her hand to test the seam of the wallpaper farther up the wall. Her sweatshirt rose a couple of inches, exposing pale white skin and the curve of her waist. He swore silently. If she could destroy his self-control without even trying, he didn't want to know what she could accomplish when she put her mind to it. Heaven help them both.
"Hi," he said.
She spun toward him. The spatula went clattering to the floor, and she covered her cheeks with her hands. Her blue eyes widened. "I didn't hear you," she said breathlessly.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." He motioned to the wall. "What are you doing here?"
She turned her attention to the wall, staring at it blankly as if she had no idea what it meant. In the few moments before she spoke, Jordan studied her profile.
She had a small nose and full lips. Freckles dotted her cheeks and nose. Her thick hair had been pulled back into a ponytail that hung to the middle of her back. He did his best not to notice the thrust of her breasts. He didn't want to be in more trouble than he was. Life would be a lot easier if he could remember what he'd said or done to upset her.
"This is the dining room," she said at last. "I'm working on the wallpaper. I use these chemicals instead of a steamer because I don't know what's underneath. They didn't use the same kind of building materials seventy years ago. I brought home some wallpaper books for you to look at. There are two ways to go. There are reprints of original wallpaper or Victorian-inspired prints."
She gave him a quick look, then returned her attention to the wall. "I think you'd be happier with a Victorian-inspired print. The reproductions are often too busy for contemporary tastes. Also, you've got a chair rail running around the room." She touched the molding about three feet off the ground. "You could paint under the chair rail, then use paper above it. That's not how many of the Victorians did things, but it looks nice. I'm not sure how authentic you want the rooms. For most people it's a compromise between the flavor of the period and what they can actually live with."
HOLLY AND MISTLETOE Page 8
