Five Minute Man_A Contemporary Love Story

by Abbie Zanders

  “We’ve met,” he admitted, carefully choosing his next words. “She was interested in a professional opinion.”

  “Is that all?” Eve asked doubtfully. In his mind’s eye, he could picture her eyes narrowing and her brows drawing together as she tried to gauge his sincerity. At that moment, he was intensely glad they were not face to face because, after three incredible days with Holly, there was no way he would be able to school his features enough to make anyone believe Holly was anything less than what she was—the one. Eve didn’t need to know that yet.

  There were very few women who worried Adam. Eve was one of them. Her behavior over the past six months clearly proved she had a borderline obsessive, and delusional, personality.

  “Did she hire you, Adam?” Eve’s voice brought him back to the moment.

  “No.” That, at least, he could answer honestly. He would be working on the cottage all right, but not as hired help. But ... this might be a way to get Eve out of attack mode. If he could manage to give Eve the impression that he had just done a consult and wouldn’t be involved any further, it might buy him enough time to work out a better, permanent solution. “She said she would keep me in mind, though.”

  “I was hoping you would say that.”

  Rather than the rush of relief he had been hoping for, a stone the size of Mount Rushmore settled in his stomach. “Why is that?”

  “Because the place was part of the original William Penn estate, so the Historical Society has a vested interest in ensuring that any and all renovations are performed under strict, historically accurate guidelines. If you were doing the renovations, we would know they were being done properly and have no basis for forcing the sale.”

  Double fuck! Adam closed his eyes, willing himself to remain calm. How did he keep managing to fuck this up? When would he learn not to underestimate Eve? His mind worked frantically. He did not want her anywhere near Holly.

  “It is only the Society’s business if the owner petitioned to have the site recognized as a historical landmark. Has such a petition been made?”

  God, he hoped not. He was fairly certain Holly had not done so. In the first place, Holly would have mentioned it when she had given him the grand tour and talked about the research she had been doing. And in that second, he really couldn’t see her wanting that kind of attention. Historically registered landmarks, even those privately owned, had a tendency to draw interest from history buffs, researchers, and tourists. Holly, like him, liked her privacy.

  “Oh, Adam.” Eve laughed softly, her voice carrying a barely concealed warning. “Not everything is done by the book, you know. Sometimes, you have to go above and beyond to get what you really want.”

  A shiver went down his spine. He knew they were no longer just talking about the cottage. Despite his good intentions, Eve hadn’t been convinced.

  “Eve, you leave—”

  She was still laughing when she disconnected the call.

  “ADAM, IS THERE SOMETHING you want to tell me?” Holly asked, concern in her eyes as she stroked her hand over his chest.

  They lay side by side, still coming down from their incredible love-making. Ever since he had come to pick her up for her “surprise date,” a sunset cruise aboard his personal fishing/cruising boat on the nearby lake, he had seemed distracted.

  “No,” he said far too quickly to be believable. “Why?”

  She pressed a kiss to his skin. The lake had been perfect, as had the picnic dinner he had brought along. The moment they had returned to her place, he had wasted no time in relieving her of her clothes and making tender, passionate love to her. As wonderful as it had been, something felt off.

  “Just a feeling, I guess.” She sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m not really very good at this.”

  He tightened his arm around her as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “You are perfect,” he said. “And perceptive. I just have a lot on my mind lately.”

  “Anything I can help with?” she asked, pushing him from his side onto his stomach. He allowed it. She straddled his hips, resting her sex against his perfect man ass as she leaned forward to knead the tight knots around his upper back and shoulders. Damn, but the man had the sexiest back she had ever seen. Wide at the top, defined from years of construction work, then tapering down into lean hips.

  “Yeah. Keep doing that,” he groaned into the pillow. “Damn, that feels good.”

  She remained quiet for several long minutes, using her hands to leisurely map and memorize this part of him she didn’t get to see nearly often enough. “If you were having second thoughts, you’d tell me, wouldn’t you?”

  He shifted beneath her, rolling to his back. “I’m not having second thoughts, Holly.”

  “But if you were, you’d tell me, right?”

  She hated feeling this needy. As far as relationships went, she was pitiful. A man like Adam would not appreciate a clingy, needy woman, but she just couldn’t help herself. He—this—seemed too good to be true, and she needed validation.

  Adam rested his hands just above her hips, holding her in place. He flexed his hands, squeezing lightly until her eyes met his. “Yes. But I’m not.”

  He lifted her as if she weighed nothing, and she sighed in both relief and pleasure as he guided her back down onto him, filling more than her body.

  Words were one thing, but he was what she really needed. There was no mistaking the reassurance this connection brought with it. With Adam, it wasn’t just sex. If it ever began to feel like it was, that was when she would really start to worry.

  For now, she was content to push the sense of disquiet far to the back of her mind and trust her heart. And Adam.

  Chapter 21

  Holly heard a knock at the door. Glancing away from her screen, she looked up at the burnished brass clock on the wall and frowned. It was early afternoon. The only two people for whom she would be willing to interrupt her writing groove—Liz and Adam—would be at work for another couple hours. The postman had already dropped off the mail for the day, and she wasn’t expecting any packages.

  “Ignore it,” she said to Max, who swiveled his gaze between her and the front of the house. Unlike other dogs, he didn’t bark at the door if Holly was around. He always looked to her first.

  After a few seconds of silence, she turned her attention back to her computer and reread the last couple sentences to continue where she had left off, right in the middle of a really intense scene where her lead female character had seen her love interest shift into a beast for the first time. She had been on such a roll that she hadn’t even taken a break to pee for the last three hours.

  Her fingers had barely touched the keys when the irritating knock came again.

  “Go away,” Holly mumbled under her breath. What was it with people? If they knocked and no one answered, it meant that either, a) no one was home, or b) no one wanted to open the damn door.

  Five minutes passed. Still, the incessant knocking continued. Whoever it was, they were persistent. And had just taken the express route right to the very top of Holly’s shit list.

  Her concentration shattered, Holly got up and went to the door, ready to give whoever it was a much-needed lesson in socially acceptable behavior.

  When Holly opened the door, however, the words evaporated on her lips. Standing on her front porch was Swedish Barbie, dressed in an expensive-looking, ass-hugging skirt and matching jacket. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a perfectly smooth bun with nary a hair out of place. Her makeup was so well done her Nordic features appeared airbrushed.

  “Holly McTierney?” Barbie asked doubtfully, her gaze raking down and back up in blatant perusal.

  Devoid of makeup, wearing one of Adam’s T-shirts and her super comfy pajama pants, Holly knew she didn’t look presentable enough to receive visitors, especially not ones who looked like they had just stepped out of the pages of a fashion magazine. Which, of course, was one of the many reasons she hadn’t wanted to open the door in the first place.


  “Yes.”

  Holly kept her hand on the door, allowing it to open only wide enough for her and Max to check out who had so rudely interrupted their afternoon. That didn’t stop Swedish Barbie from nosily looking over Holly’s shoulder and into the house, an easy thing to do since she was a good nine or ten inches taller than Holly.

  “May I come in?”

  Holly leaned against the door. “I’m a little busy right now. What do you want?”

  Barbie managed what was no doubt intended to be a friendly smile, but her eyes were anything but. Holly wondered if the woman knew about her and Adam. She had meant to ask Adam about her, given the exchange she had inadvertently witnessed at the Y, but it hadn’t come up. They had been too busy doing other, much more pleasurable things. And the few times she had thought about it, she hadn’t wanted to ruin the mood.

  “My name is Eve Sanderson. I’m with the Covendale Valley Historical Society.”

  Holly blinked but said nothing. She was vaguely familiar with the Society. Shortly after she had purchased the place, they had started sending her letters, asking for permission to inspect the property and include it as part of their colonial history tours. The thought of strangers poking around her house and busloads of school children traipsing over her lawn had her dismissing the idea pretty quickly.

  “Despite our repeated attempts to contact you, you have not responded,” Eve continued. “You did receive several letters from us, did you not?”

  “I did, and I did respond. I’m not interested.” She had only responded to the first letter. Each subsequent one went right into the paper shredder the moment she had ensured all staples had been safely removed.

  Eve forced another small smile. “Then you are aware of the rich history of this particular parcel, and the Society’s desire to have it registered as a historical landmark.”

  “I am. And the answer is still no.” Holly took a step back and began to close the door, when Eve put her hand out to stop it.

  “Perhaps you do not understand the significance,” Eve began, her voice dripping with barely concealed condescension.

  “No, I think it is you who does not understand,” Holly said firmly. Her searing gaze went to Eve’s hand. “I will say this one more time for you very slowly so you can keep up. I. Am Not. Interested.”

  Expression thunderous, Eve narrowed her eyes. For a few moments, Holly thought Eve-Barbie might actually attack her. Holly kind of hoped she would. While not normally a violent person, there was something immensely appealing about taking Miss High-and-Mighty down a peg or two. It wouldn’t even have to be anything big, really, just enough to let Eve-Barbie know she wasn’t about to be pushed around by some Swedish supermodel wannabe.

  Instead, her unwelcome visitor smoothed her features back into a semi-professional mask and smiled coldly. “You’re new here, so let me give you a piece of helpful advice. The Covendale Valley Historical Society has the backing of some very powerful members of this community who want to ensure that our local history is preserved for future generations. If I were you, I would think twice about engaging in a battle you can’t win.” Eve’s eyes practically glowed. “We care for and protect what is ours.”

  A chill ran up and down the length of Holly’s spine as every one of her female senses flared to life. With a scary certainty, she knew they were no longer simply talking about the cottage.

  Visions of Eve’s hand running along Adam’s bicep with serious familiarity clouded her vision for a moment, before she pushed them back. Anything he’d had with Eve must be over, right? Because Adam had been spending his evenings and weekends with her, not Eve.

  Eve was probably just reluctant to let him go. Holly could understand that. She wouldn’t let Adam go easily, either.

  “Let me make this perfectly clear so there is no doubt. I am the legal owner of this house and the land surrounding it. I have no intention of applying for any historical recognition whatsoever, nor will I. This is private property. And I care for and protect what is mine.”

  LATER THAT NIGHT, HOLLY was still bristling over Eve Sanderson’s unexpected visit.

  “Are you having a drink tonight?” Holly asked Liz as the server appeared to take their drink orders. “Because I am definitely having a drink tonight.”

  “Unsweetened red wine for me,” Liz told the young man without opening the beverage menu. “Whatever you have is fine.”

  The server turned to Holly. “And you, ma’am?”

  Holly pointed to the brightly colored photo image splashed across the cover of the laminated stand-up card. “Jack Daniels Tennessee Honey.”

  The waiter didn’t bother looking up from his little pad. He was young like Brandon, but not nearly as friendly. He looked extremely bored. “Want that with the blackberry lemonade and ginger ale?”

  “Whatever. Just make sure it’s a double shot.”

  He nodded and left, leaving Liz staring worriedly from across the table. “A double? What’s up?”

  Holly grimaced. “Remember I told you about that woman I saw with Adam at the Y that night? Well, she showed up on my doorstep today.”

  “Eve came to your house?”

  Holly stared at her friend in disbelief. She had never told Liz the woman’s name. She hadn’t known it herself until a few hours ago. “Eve? You mean you know her?”

  Liz grimaced. “Yeah, I know her, all right. She is bad news, Holly.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything before? Like when I told you what happened? That could have been useful information, Liz.”

  “Because I didn’t know then that the woman you saw was Eve. I didn’t find out until after Adam told me.”

  Holly shook her head. This vague fog of confusion was supposed to come after the double shot, not before. “Wait. You talked to Adam? When?”

  Guilt suffused Liz’s features. “Last Wednesday. He kind of cornered me at the Y to find out why you weren’t talking to him.”

  “And you told him?” Holly hissed.

  “Well, duh. You were miserable, Holly. I told him why you were upset, the light bulb blinked on, and he explained what really happened. She was going after him, Holly, not the other way around.”

  “And you just believed him?” As skeptical as Holly was, Liz was even more so when it came to the kind of bullshit men spewed to save their own asses. More than one dinner conversation had centered around Liz’s personal dating experiences. Some of those tales even occasionally found their way into Holly’s storylines, because the truth was so often stranger than fiction.

  “I’ll admit, I was doubtful at first. As soon as I realized that Eve was the other woman, though, I knew he was telling the truth. You should have seen him, Holly. He was every bit as miserable as you were. I had to do something.”

  The discussion was suspended when the server reappeared with their drinks and a basket of warm, crusty bread. Holly wasted no time in bringing the straw to her lips, relishing the rush of sweet, smooth alcohol over her tongue.

  Liz placed her meal order first, then Holly doubled it.

  In a shocking move, Liz tore off a piece of bread and slathered it with whipped butter.

  “Liz ...” Holly said slowly, watching in morbid fascination as Liz savored the forbidden carbs. That, more than anything, told her that Liz was withholding crucial information. “What exactly did you do?”

  “Nothing, really,” Liz said, avoiding Holly’s eyes.

  The very distinct red tint infusing her cheeks suggested otherwise.

  “Liz ...” Holly warned.

  “Oh, all right. I made him buy me a coffee, and I told him that, if he really wanted to rock your world, he needed to be your Five-Minute Man. He, of course, had no idea what that meant, so I had to explain it to him. There. Are you happy now?”

  Holly gaped at Liz from across the table. At her best and only friend. She didn’t say anything, though. She just pulled her drink closer and continued to draw from the straw, glad she had asked for a double.

 
Liz kept shooting furtive glances at her, alternately mangling the remaining bread by pulling off bite-sized pieces and sipping her wine.

  By the time their meal arrived, they still hadn’t spoken. It was Liz who finally broke the silence.

  “Are you angry with me?”

  Holly exhaled heavily, pushing the now-empty glass off to the side. Her head was buzzing pleasantly, and she was feeling more relaxed. “No, I’m not angry with you. Because of you, I had a three-night, three-day marathon of incredibly hot and wild monkey sex.”

  Liz’s eyes widened. Then, when Holly grinned, they both burst into gales of laughter, drawing stares from the surrounding tables.

  “So, I did a good thing?”

  “You did a very good thing,” Holly agreed. “Adam is ... well, he is the personification of my perfect man.” She shook her head. “In fact, he is too good to be true. I knew there had to be a catch. And she showed up on my front porch today.”

  “Eve is something else, but you can’t hold that against Adam. It’s not his fault she’s a psycho hose beast and can’t take no for an answer.”

  “Psycho hose beast?” Holly repeated incredulously.

  Liz waved her hand dismissively. “I heard it in this really bad 80’s film. Never thought I’d actually use it, but in this case, it fits.”

  “Tell me.”

  Liz scowled. “Let’s just say I have a good reason to hate Eve Sanderson and leave it at that.”

  Holly wanted to ask more, but the look of resolve on Liz’s face told her she wouldn’t get much more out of her on the subject. Thankfully, their meals arrived and gave them something else to focus on.

  Chapter 22

  Adam cursed when the stubborn oil valve gave way, covering his forearm in the dark, thick liquid. Changing the oil on his truck was child’s play, something he had done dozens of times, but it was hard to concentrate when he was so distracted.