Bachelorette for Sale

by Gail Chianese

  “Come on, boy, let’s get this over with. His truck is here, so it must be the right place.” She rang the bell next to the bright red door and waited, with Tucker sitting at her side. Booted footsteps neared on the other side. She met Tucker’s gaze before the door opened.

  She wasn’t sure what she expected, but a shirtless Jason Valentine was not it. Oh my, talk about some serious yum factor going on. The dream version didn’t even come close to comparing to the real deal.

  “H-hello. I, uh, hi . . .” Her gaze dropped to the glistening hair on his sculpted chest and she about swallowed her tongue. Did he rent those abs out as a ladder? Because she’d really like to climb up them and hang on for dear life while he took her for a wild ride.

  Pulling her gaze back to meet his twinkling eyes, she focused on the task at hand. Forget the fantasy, Ryan. Reality never lives up to real life, as it’s proved time and time again. First with her parents, then what’s-his-name in high school, Shane in college (total liar and user), and then Ari. Why would Jason be any different?

  “Hi, you don’t look like the pizza guy.” His voice made her think of warm, melted chocolate, followed by images of what she’d like to do with said lickable sweetness. If only it were someone else. Someone she could trust.

  “Sorry, no pizza, but I do come bearing good news, if you have a few minutes.” She leaned a tad to the side, trying to see if she was interrupting anything.

  Holding the door open farther, he stepped back and waved her in. “Come on in.” He dropped down to her dog, extended a hand. “Hello, boy. You must be Tucker. Bam is outside, but she’d love to meet you.” Standing up, he looked at Cherry still standing on the steps. “I was doing some work on the deck out back.”

  At his words, she did a double take. Outside? Granted, for the first week in March it was unseasonably warm. Still, at fifty degrees she had on two layers to chase the chill away, and here he was working practically au naturel. Suddenly she found herself very thankful for the ability of the male of the species to run at a higher body temperature.

  Stepping inside, she expected to find the space converted into offices like so many other Victorians in the area. Instead she discovered herself in a residential foyer that opened to a living room and kitchen.

  “Oh, I thought this was your office.” She quickly took in the room. Dark maroon couches sat facing a fireplace and a giant flat-screen TV. A few abstract art prints brightened the light gray walls. Otherwise it was . . . sparse. No family photos. No dusty mementos of trips taken. No scattered piles of books. Quite the opposite of her place.

  “Welcome to my home and office.”

  “I tried to call, but got your voice mail. I didn’t mean to disrupt your evening.”

  “You’re not interrupting.”

  “Anyway, the committee met today. You had the best proposal. The job is yours.” She thrust an envelope at him before wandering over to look at a print of a beach with stacked rocks. “We wanted to make sure you got this right away. I figured I’d be dropping this off with a secretary.”

  Jason held the unopened envelope, watching her with an amused slant to his mouth. “Thanks. I tried to get Dave to dress up and play receptionist for me, but he’s no fun and looks awful in a skirt. Hairy legs.”

  She couldn’t help it, she laughed at the visual. At the same time, she’d bet his friend would turn a lot of heads if the skirt were a kilt instead.

  He walked into the kitchen and pulled a couple of glasses down from a rack. “Will you stay and join me in a celebratory dinner of pizza and wine?”

  She played with Tucker’s leash, ignoring his whine. Out of nowhere a case of nerves hit. She didn’t know what to say and had no idea why. Wasn’t like it was the first time they’d met. It’d barely been eight hours since they last spoke. “I really should be going. If you have questions you can call Tawny or me on Monday.”

  Sliding open the envelope, he pulled the contract out and skimmed it over before setting it back down. “I’d really like it if you would stay. I have some questions about the job and I’d like a chance to explain last night.”

  Tucker took that moment to yank free of her hold and run to the back door, whining and pawing at the door. “Tucker, get back here. We have to leave. Come on, boy.”

  “I think he wants to stay and play. She won’t hurt him. Bam would love to have a friend. If we’re going to work together, we really should talk. Clear the air.”

  Just then, the doorbell rang. It was the pizza delivery guy. As Jason went to pay for the pizza, both dogs started barking and Cherry stood conflicted, a situation she rarely found herself in. On the one hand, she wanted to do anything she could to get the work started as soon as possible, and to be honest, there were details to work out with Jason. And well, jeez, since she was being all up front with herself, she might as well admit part of the reason she felt conflicted was plain old fear. The guy was smoking hot, melt-the-chocolate-all-over-your-body sexy. Not perfect by a long shot, thanks to his arrogant attitude, and boy, did he have it in spades. But he intrigued her. It’d been a long time since a man had made both her body and mind sizzle.

  And that alone was the best reason on the planet as to why she should decline his invitation. Yet he was right. They needed to clear the air before they started working together. She had to know she could trust him.

  “You staying?”

  “I guess I have time for a slice.”

  “Let’s introduce the dogs to each other and then they can play outside while we enjoy dinner on the patio. It’s too nice to be stuck indoors,” Jason called from the kitchen where he’d disappeared. “Red wine or beer?”

  “Wine, please.” What? Where did that come from? She’d meant to say neither, to pass on the alcohol and keep everything strictly business. Eating pizza and drinking wine on a Friday night sounded too date-like.

  He walked into the living area with two glasses of wine, sat them both on the table before reaching for the door. “Ready?”

  Looking down at Tucker, who sat by her side, quivering with excitement, she gave a nod. His front paws did a little move like he was trying not to bounce up and down, but only half succeeding. “Let her in.”

  The prettiest black-and-white Staffordshire terrier bounded in, tail wagging, only to stop short when she caught sight of her visitors. She tilted her head to the side, took a step forward, and gave a short woof. Tucker held his place, and within a few seconds they were busy conducting the all-important sniff test, followed by kisses. If only it were so simple between members of the human species.

  The dogs took off running out the open door. Jason handed her the glass of wine, his fingers brushing hers in the process. Her gaze shot down, then back up to meet his. Soft, warm, rough. Scrambled thoughts zipped through her mind as she took in his touch, noted how his skin felt against hers. Cherry backed away. “I’ll go check on the dogs.”

  She found the backyard a straight-up man zone. A privacy fence ran around the yard, allowing the dogs to run and play without her worrying about them getting into trouble. She didn’t have to worry about flowers being trampled—there were none, not a single one. Vines hung from a pergola, which ran from the house to the back fence. There was also a freestanding hammock strategically placed to take advantage of the shade, perfect for a Sunday-afternoon nap. The low-rise deck sported a couple of comfortable-looking chairs, a round patio set, a fire pit, and a grill that she was pretty sure you could cook an entire cow on.

  Taking a seat at the table, she pointed to the vines. “What are you growing?”

  “Wine grapes.” He nodded to her glass. “You’re drinking the fruits of my labor.”

  She gave the lush, rich red liquid a swirl, took a deep whiff, and then sipped. “It’s lovely. Bold color, bits of cedar, cranberry, and if I’m not mistaken, nutmeg.”

  His left brow arched, followed by the left side of his lips, a touch of pride in his stance. “Wow, you’re uncanny and dead accurate. That’s my Cabernet Franc from las
t season. I think it’s my best so far.”

  Somewhere between her arrival and that of the pizza he’d slipped on a plain white T-shirt, and as crazy as it sounded, he was even sexier than before. Bare feet, jeans, tee, and rumpled hair. He looked like a man who had just climbed out of bed or the shower, or one who was ready to settle down and snuggle with his woman for the night before a blazing fire. A lock of his dark brown hair dropped over his eye, and she had an incredible urge to sink her fingers in, brush it back, and give those too-intense eyes an unobstructed view of the real her.

  “Where did you learn about wine?” Jason sat the pizza on the table, along with a couple of paper plates, a pepper mill, and red pepper flakes.

  “I once dated a winemaker. He taught me a few of the basics, some of the process, the art behind the combinations used for each varietal. However, I’ve always had this freaky knack for being able to single out individual ingredients. Drives my gram and George crazy, especially when they’re trying to sneak something past me that I don’t like.”

  The dogs, tired from their game of chase, plopped at their feet. Jason reached down, gave both dogs a scratch behind their ears, and promised if they were good he’d make sure they both got treats.

  “What about your parents, does it drive them nuts too or are they like you?”

  A sharp pain shot through Cherry’s chest at the mention of her parents. She really had no idea if she was like either of them or not. An eight-year-old’s memories faded after a while. These days she had to rely on her grandparents to tell her what her parents were like.

  “You wanted to clear the air?”

  He took a long moment to study his wine, before taking a drink. “I had every intention of telling you at the beginning of the night what I did for a living. I wanted to tell you at the fund-raiser, but Dave was convinced that with the competition, we needed an edge. Before you jump to any conclusions, the plan was just to talk to you about the company and our vision for the center. Let you see we were the right guys for the job despite the fact that we’re younger than the others out there.”

  “Okay, so why didn’t you?”

  “Standing in front of the fountain, you looked lost. And then there was that crazy conversation. When you first asked, I thought you’d get mad since I was already late and you thought I was clearly after something else.”

  “So, you’re saying it was my fault?” Cherry asked.

  “No. I take full blame.”

  Cherry looked around the yard, taking in what he’d said and what he hadn’t said. She was sure there was more to his answer than what she’d heard, but she wouldn’t push it at this time. “When can you start on the center?”

  “Since the job’s officially mine, I’ll probably head over tomorrow and start with a more in-depth analysis, determine the best starting point, take some measurements, that kind of thing.”

  “Tomorrow’s great. Tawny will be there at ten. She has an interview with some reporter, not that you need her. There’s a set of keys for your use in the envelope.” They both settled in while they finished off their slices of pizza, saving bits of the crust and a few small pieces for the dogs. Cherry was surprised at how quiet the backyard was considering they were on a busy street, and she noticed that his building was a split Victorian like hers, yet no one had bothered them while they enjoyed the sunset. “This is really nice. Is it all yours?”

  “Thanks, and no. Dave actually lives on the second and third floors. We do some work for the owner, so he gives us a break on the rent.”

  “Wicked, can’t beat that kind of deal.” She took another sip of her wine, letting the sweet, cool liquid run down her throat, and noticed a slight light-headedness. Wow, some seriously potent stuff.

  “Trust me, there are times when the landlord definitely gets the better end of the deal.” He shrugged his shoulders while glancing over at the grape vines. “We like the neighborhood and hate moving, so here we are.”

  She got the feeling there was more to it than laziness. His tone held a trace of fondness both for the place and for the slave-driving building owner. “Will your arrangement with him be a problem when you start on the rec center? I mean, you aren’t going to be working on his jobs when you should be working on the center, are you? It’s very important that we finish before school lets out.”

  Holding her breath, she said a little prayer, hoping she hadn’t made a mistake that would cause her good buddy Stan to gloat.

  He swallowed pizza and took a sip of wine and shook his head. “No worries, he knows the paying jobs come first. Who’s the project manager?”

  “Tawny and I are the co-chairs. If you have questions, you can contact either one of us. We’ll need weekly updates. Also, the board would prefer an on-site inspection.”

  He slid another slice of pizza onto each of their plates before he sat back in his chair, taking a hard look at her. Thankfully, she’d had lots of practice at being a freak on display. Heck, millions tuned in each Monday to watch her dating escapades. “Do any of the committee members have actual construction experience?”

  “Hmm, does building a recipe box in grade school count?”

  “Not really, but I’m sure the recipient thought it was lovely.”

  “I’ll have you know it’s held up for the past twenty years, and my gram still uses it. I’d say that’s some quality craftsmanship.”

  “My apologies. I stand corrected.” He toasted her with his glass, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. She caught herself staring at his mouth, remembering the feel of his lips as he trailed kisses along her jaw the night before. Remembered how hard it had been to pull away. She glanced up, looked into his eyes. The pupils were dilated and his breathing was hard and fast. Looked like maybe she wasn’t the only one who remembered their kiss.

  “Why don’t we set up Fridays at three for the on-site? That will give me more time to answer all of your questions.” His voice sounded like a man who’d spent a lifetime sipping on whiskey and smoking.

  “That should work. There is one other thing, Mr. Valentine—”

  “Jason, please.”

  That should be her line, and she so needed to get her mind back on business. “Jason, no more lies, because no one gets a third chance.”

  He held two fingers up and crossed his heart with his other hand. “Scout’s honor.”

  Ha. Luke Skywalker was a Boy Scout, Jason was more like Han Solo, and everyone knew he was a scoundrel. Of course, he also got the girl. “Were you ever a Scout?”

  “For about a day.” Now, that she could believe.

  Chapter Seven

  Cherry rolled over in bed, blinking at the alarm clock on her mahogany night table and the incessant ringing of the phone. “This better be an emergency or I’m killing someone,” she said to no one. It figured she’d be woken up early on her day off, especially as she’d come home from Jason’s too keyed up to sleep, even with the wine in her. Her mind had refused to rest. Instead it kept going back over Jason’s explanation again and again. Okay, she got his reasoning, even if she didn’t agree with him. Yes, she kept circling back to the elephant left in the room—he’d never apologized for kissing her.

  As she stayed up half the night and watched back episodes of Castle while visiting with her old friends Ben and Jerry, she tried to figure out why. Did that mean he didn’t regret the kiss? Or that he’d already forgotten it?

  “Morning, Mija. Did I wake you? I’m sorry. Listen, I have a big favor to ask. Before you start, I know it’s your day off, but I got called into work. Emma went into labor and I have to cover for her. I need you to go to the center and cover the interview for me,” Tawny pleaded.

  No way. The media and Jason, who’d said he’d be at the site today, were more than she could deal with. And after the dreams she’d had the last two nights, there was no way she could face him today without turning ten shades of red. She needed to ignore the fantasies. There was only one way this relationship could go, and that was down a
dead-end street. Jason’s actions reeked of déjà vu. Ari’d had his reasons for using Cherry too.

  Misguided reasons and no scruples.

  Even while her mind protested, her body began moving. No way would she leave the kids or her friend hanging at such a crucial time.

  “Cherry?”

  Sleep, she desperately needed more sleep. She could do this. One more interview. Get in, get it done, and get out. No drama. Grumbling, she swung her legs over the side of the bed; the cold of the wood sent a quick hello through her body, and she rubbed the grit from her eyes. “I want pictures of the baby, and give Emma hugs for me.”

  “Thanks. I get off at noon. Why don’t you meet me for some shopping, and then we’ll do lunch so you can tell me all about it.”

  She looked around her cozy bedroom for Tucker to find him fast asleep in his miniature four-poster bed, clearly not ready for the day either after their late night. “Tell you what?” Letting her pup catch a few more winks, she turned the shower on to heat up the water, ignoring the familiar clicks and accompanying hisses and went to the closet to scan its contents for interview-worthy clothes.

  “What’s bothering you? How things went with Jason Valentine last night? The interview? The meaning of life? Pick one, Mija. See you in a couple of hours. I’ve got to run. Hey, wear the turquoise blouse with your black skirt and peep-toe heels. You’ll look great. Bye.”

  Fifty-five minutes later, standing at the entrance to the center Cherry had thought of a half dozen reasons why she should call the reporter and cancel, starting with the fact that her stomach was doing nonstop topsy-turvy somersaults. Cherry didn’t know if the cause was waiting to see Jason again or dealing with the press. Seconds later, Jason’s truck pulled into the parking lot. He and Dave crossed the pavement and stopped in front of her. In his worn-out jeans and faded black T-shirt, with a day’s growth darkening his cheeks, he looked like a poster model for Bad Boys“R”Us. Sexy, sinful, and irresistible.