The Husband Quest

by Lori Handeland

  A burst of laughter escaped him. “I guess you could say that.”

  “I brought them out here to show me the place, then they disappeared.”

  “Scammed you for a ride.” Evan crossed the room, then leaned past her to point out the window. “They live on the other side of that hill.”

  “Together?”

  “They’ve always been together. Never been married. Never left home.”

  “Weird.”

  Evan stiffened. He still lived at home. Kind of. He’d taken over the threshers’ shack on the back forty of his parents’ farm. He was twenty-nine years old, never been married, and the address on his driver’s license was the same one it had been at sixteen. More people than Jillian Hart Duvier would call him weird, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

  He’d come to Arkansas to change his life. So far he’d only changed his zip code.

  Three out of the six Luchetti children were married. His sister had a little girl, his brother Aaron a teenaged daughter and a child on the way, and his brother Colin had just added a baby boy to the mix. They’d named him Robert after the Luchetti brother in the Special Forces—the one who’d been missing on and off for far too long.

  Evan understood why Bobby wasn’t married—his life was too dangerous. Even Dean had a good reason for not taking a wife. He was genetically crabby.

  However, Dean had managed to adopt a child. He and his son, Tim, made a family. Of the six Luchettis, only Evan was the eternal loser.

  As he straightened away from the window, his forearm brushed Jillian Hart’s bare shoulder. The catch of her breath made his belly tighten. He fought against the familiar shot of lust and the little voice that taunted, You’ll never change.

  She turned and tilted her head so she could see into his face. “I’ve got an idea.”

  Evan took several steps back until he could no longer feel the heat of her skin or smell the jasmine rising from her shiny red hair.

  “Don’t you want to hear it?”

  He could imagine very well what her idea was. Lonely widow. Studly carpenter. He had the tools, she had the time.

  The exhaustion returned in a dizzying wave. He was so damn tired of his life.

  “Henry owed you money.”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t have any money.”

  “I got that.”

  “So I have a proposition.”

  They always did.

  “What if we work together?”

  Evan blinked. He’d never heard it put quite like that before.

  “You do the physical labor.”

  Which was usually the case.

  “And I’ll help.”

  Uh-huh.

  “Although I’m not very good at it.”

  He let his gaze wander over her centerfold body and lush lips. She had to be kidding.

  “But I’m willing to learn.”

  That was new. Most women of his acquaintance wanted to teach him what they liked. He couldn’t complain. He was a very fast learner and always open to fresh techniques.

  “Let me get this straight,” he said. “You want to—”

  “Fix this place up. Once I sell it, I’ll pay you back for your time and trouble.” She stuck out her hand. “Deal?”

  JILLY HELD HER BREATH, hoping he’d agree. She had nowhere else to go.

  “Mr. Luchetti?” she prompted. “Deal?”

  He lifted his incredible blue eyes to hers. “I’d agree to becoming partners.”

  “Partners?”

  “You own the inn. I do the labor. We split the material costs. When we sell, it’s fifty-fifty on the profits.”

  Jilly frowned. She wasn’t sure fifty percent would be enough.

  “Eighty-twenty,” she countered.

  “That’s hardly fair. You do own the place.”

  “I meant eighty for me, twenty for you.”

  “In your dreams. Sixty-forty.”

  “Seventy-thirty.”

  “And you pay for the materials?”

  Jilly considered the offer. She had a feeling it was the best she was going to get, so she nodded.

  Evan slapped his hand into hers. “Deal.”

  She jolted—not only at the crack of flesh against flesh, but at the odd tingling that had begun again where their skin touched.

  Jilly jerked away and surreptitiously rubbed her palm against her skirt. “Now, Mr. Luchetti—”

  “Evan.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “Mr. Luchetti is my father. If we’re going to be partners, you’d better call me Evan.” He lifted a brow. “Mrs. Duvier.”

  “And Mrs. Duvier is…not me. My friends call me Jilly.”

  Which was a joke. She didn’t have any friends.

  Acquaintances, yes. Friends? Hardly. The wives of Henry’s associates had loathed her, seeing in Jilly their greatest fear—being replaced by a younger model. She’d never had the chance to meet any women her own age. In school she’d been an outcast, the stepdaughter of wealth plopped into a world of those who had been born to it.

  “Jilly,” he repeated. “Pretty name.”

  Why his words started a warm glow in the pit of her stomach, she had no idea. But then most of her feelings about Evan Luchetti confused her. She had a sneaking suspicion staying here was a bad idea, and staying here with him was an even worse one, but she couldn’t think of anything else to do.

  The money from the sale of a broken down inn would not take her very far. The money from the sale of a showplace was something else entirely. She could unload the rest of her rings to raise enough funds for the materials. She never wore them, anyway.

  Her mother considered wearing diamonds from a dead man the height of gauche behavior. In this case, Jilly believed she was right.

  “Where should I stay?” she asked.

  “In town.”

  “There isn’t a hotel, even if I could afford one.”

  He frowned. “You don’t want to stay here.”

  “I’m not afraid of ghosts.”

  “What about outdoor…facilities?”

  Jilly’s chest went tight. “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope.”

  “There has to be a bathroom.”

  “Why? The place was built in 1855.”

  “Well, put one in.”

  “I’ll get right on that, but it’ll take more than an hour.”

  “You’ve been here how long?”

  “Two weeks.”

  “I’d think you’d put in a bathroom first.”

  “Maybe you would. I figured electricity would be a nice perk. It’s a little hard to do anything without power.”

  “Let me get this straight. There’s no plumbing and no electricity.”

  “No water or heat, either.”

  “Terrific.”

  “I shouldn’t say there’s no electricity. At one time someone started to put it in, but the wiring’s iffy—needs updating. The kitchen has a few workable outlets, but the appliances were so ancient I had everything hauled away but the stove. Still want to stay?”

  “I never said I wanted to. I have to.”

  “Suit yourself.” He beckoned. “There’s one other room that isn’t a disaster.”

  Jilly followed him across the hall and glanced inside. “No bed.”

  “Which makes it just like all the others.”

  “What am I supposed to sleep on?”

  “Sleeping bag.”

  “Never heard of it.”

  He laughed. “I’ve got an extra. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to finish what I was doing before the light goes.”

  “Sure. No problem. I’ll just…” She wasn’t sure what she’d do.

  “If you want to clean up, there’s a creek out back and down the trail.”

  “A creek?” Her lip curled.

  “Water’s water around here.” He shrugged. “You might want to change, too. That outfit’s gonna get ruined.”

  He headed into the other room and secon
ds later the rhythmic sound of hammering commenced. Jilly glanced at her clothes. Dust on her skirt, dirt on her panty hose, Lord knows what on her shirt… She could use a wash.

  Making her way downstairs, she took a tour of the second floor and then the first. There were eight rooms on the third floor, ten on the second. The ground level consisted of a kitchen, dining room and what might once have been a parlor near the front of the building.

  As she went to the car, still parked on the far side of the pasture that doubled as the front yard, her mind clicked with ideas for turning the inn into a showplace.

  Jilly excelled at decorating. Maybe because decorating was the one thing she’d been allowed to do in each of her marriages.

  She’d almost reached the Volkswagen when plodding footsteps sounded behind her. More than two feet.

  She spun around and nearly got a faceful of horse.

  “Hey!” She jumped back.

  Lightning sneezed all over her shirt.

  “Thanks.” Jilly held the soaked silk away from her skin. “I was wondering what I was going to do with this thing. It’s pretty much junk now.”

  The horse threw his head up and down as if he was agreeing with her.

  “This blouse cost a hundred and fifty dollars!” Jilly yanked her suitcase out of the car. She could have sworn Lightning snickered.

  Opening the case, she squinted in the fading light. If she wanted to get to the creek and back before darkness fell, she’d better move.

  Sighing, she contemplated the silk, rayon and linen, the high heels, short skirts and long-sleeved blouses. The only clothes she possessed that were even close to acceptable were those she wore when she did yoga exercises—gray sweatpants and a plain white T-shirt. Even her athletic shoes were out of place—lime-green with silver shoelaces.

  Jilly shrugged and gathered the things together. She’d have to make do.

  As she headed toward the grove of trees Evan had indicated, Lightning followed like an obedient puppy. She stopped at a fork in the path. “Which way?”

  The horse butted her to the left. She stumbled and nearly fell.

  “Watch it!”

  Lightning stared at her with innocent brown eyes, as if he hadn’t done a thing.

  “This way?” she asked.

  He sneezed all over her skirt.

  “You really need to do something about those allergies.”

  Jilly headed to the left. The path disappeared into the trees and sloped downward. Seconds later the babble of water drifted to her. She must be going in the right direction.

  Lightning followed more slowly, his hooves sliding on the smooth-packed dirt. The trees grew closer together. The path was barely wide enough for her to pass through. She could no longer hear the clip-clop of the horse behind her. When she glanced back, she couldn’t see him, either.

  But she could smell the creek, almost feel its cool caress on her skin. Sweaty, dirty and sprinkled with horse snot, Jilly couldn’t wait to hit the water.

  She picked up her pace. The downward slope became steeper. Jilly’s nylon-covered heels slid, and suddenly, she had a hard time slowing down.

  The trees parted, the path ended and there lay the creek, about twenty feet below. Jilly dropped her clothes and her shoes on the trail as she pinwheeled her arms. Heart pounding, chest heaving, she curled her toes over the edge.

  Though she seemed to perch there for hours, it must only have been a few seconds before her center of gravity righted. She took one step backward, then another, until every inch of both feet rested on solid ground.

  “Whew.” Jilly took a deep breath. “That was close.”

  A thud was her only warning before the damn horse shoved her over the edge.

  CHAPTER THREE

  EVAN HEARD A faraway scream.

  He wouldn’t have heard anything at all if he hadn’t finished pounding the last nail into the baseboard under the open window.

  He stood and leaned out, just in time to see Lightning come out of the trees faster than he’d ever seen that horse move. The animal glanced at the house, then back toward the creek. He pawed the ground and whinnied.

  Evan frowned. Jilly couldn’t have taken the left fork. It was clearly marked as dangerous—or should have been. He’d had the Seitz brothers put up a sign yesterday.

  “Hell.”

  Dropping his hammer, he ran—down one flight of stairs, then another, out the front door and across the backyard. Lightning was still pawing the ground. He’d dug a good-size hole by the time Evan raced past.

  Evan took the right fork, raced down the path, burst into the clearing and saw Jilly bobbing in the middle of the creek. As he yanked off his shoes, the current pulled her under, so he dived in completely dressed.

  Her red head popped up to his left. He kicked hard, pulled mightily with his arms and reached her just as she disappeared again.

  Using the hold he’d learned in lifesaving, Evan tugged Jilly toward land. He’d fought his mother tooth and nail over taking that class. There were very few lakes in Illinois; who was he going to save? Right now he thanked the bullheaded stubbornness of Eleanor Luchetti, which had made her force all five of her sons and her only daughter into taking lifesaving classes.

  Evan reached the bank quickly. Though deep in the center, the creek wasn’t very wide. He was surprised Jilly hadn’t been able to swim to the edge herself in the time it had taken him to get here.

  She lay in the grass, eyes closed, skin ghost-white against the loosened tumble of her hair. Her clothes were ruined—panty hose snagged, silk shell rumpled and torn. Her skirt was hiked to midthigh.

  He nearly went down on his knees and started CPR, then she coughed, choked and spit up half the creek. If she could cough she was okay, so Evan let her have at it.

  Several moments later she collapsed on her back and stared up at the night sky.

  “I take it you aren’t much of a swimmer,” he said.

  “What was your first clue?”

  Evan smiled. He liked her smart mouth. Reminded him of his little sister.

  He missed Kim, had always gotten along with her better than any of his brothers. They were the closest in age, the furthest apart in temperament—Evan so laid-back his mom called him terminally asleep, while Kim had been wired from birth to excel at everything she touched. Back home, she had a new husband, new daughter, new life. He envied her.

  Since his niece had been born, Evan had spent a lot of time baby-sitting, which was how he’d learned the words to every song in The Little Mermaid. Zsa Zsa loved Disney ditties, and Evan loved Zsa Zsa.

  “Where’s that horse?” Jilly demanded. “I’m sending him to the glue factory.”

  “What are you mad at Lightning for?”

  “He shoved me over the cliff!”

  “Did not.”

  “Then how do you explain me falling?”

  “You’re lame?”

  She scowled. “I was perfectly fine until he bumped me from behind.”

  “What were you doing on the left fork of the trail, anyway?”

  She sat up and her gaze slid away. “He told me to go that way.”

  “He who?”

  She mumbled something.

  “Did you say ‘the horse’?”

  “So?”

  “Why would you follow a horse’s advice over the sign?”

  Her head came up. “What sign?”

  “The one that says Danger. Cliff Ahead.”

  “There wasn’t any sign.”

  Evan rubbed his forehead. That’s what he’d been afraid of. Either the brothers had forgotten to do as he asked, or they’d done such a poor job of it, they may as well have forgotten.

  He turned and headed back the way he’d come. Jilly followed, and moments later they stood at the fork in the path. The sign lay flat on the ground, covered with weeds and branches.

  “I was supposed to see that?”

  “In theory,” he murmured.

  “You lost me.”

 
He very nearly had, and the close call still had him shaken. He glanced at Jilly and then couldn’t look away.

  Her lashes sparkled with droplets of creek water. There was a flush of peach across her cheekbones. Her hair was mussed and wild as it tumbled over her shoulders. The silky top she wore was plastered to her chest. Suddenly he couldn’t remember what they were talking about.

  He was such a guy. He might have sworn off women in his head, but his body had other ideas. Didn’t it always? “Hey!”

  She snapped her fingers in front of his face. Thoughts of stripping her wet stockings down her smooth legs, then rubbing a towel all over her body disappeared.

  “I have to apologize—”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “If you’d let me finish, I can explain.”

  “I doubt that, but…” She spread her fingers wide and swept her hand out in a be-my-guest gesture.

  “I should have put the sign up myself. But I let the Seitz brothers do it.”

  Understanding dawned. “Not too smart.”

  “I know.”

  What had he been thinking to let those old men take care of such an important task? He’d been thinking he wanted them out of his hair for five minutes, and what was so tough about putting up a sign?

  Evan hunted around for a flat rock, then hauled the wooden post out of the brush and pounded it into the ground. “There.”

  He stood back to admire his handiwork. Not bad.

  “You!” Jilly shouted.

  Evan started and glanced over his shoulder. Lightning stood on the path, his nose hanging all the way down to his hooves.

  “Where’s the nearest glue factory?”

  The horse’s head came up. His ancient eyes met Evan’s. Evan could swear the animal understood her.

  “Leave him be,” he said. “Lightning didn’t push you in.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “Follow me.”

  He set off down the left fork, but Jilly didn’t move.

  “I’m not going down there again. You think I’m naive?”

  “I just fished you out—I wouldn’t let you fall in. Besides, if you die, I won’t ever see my money.”

  She stared at him for a long moment, then shrugged and followed.

  The trail narrowed; the trees bowed. By the time they reached the cliff, he was bent into the shape of an “r.” A pile of clothes lay on the path. Evan gathered them together and handed them to Jilly.