Checkmate anfh-3

by R. L. Mathewson

  Just the idea of having a Connor-free day made her giddy. Now if it would only come true she might actually cry tears of joy, she thought as she headed up the back stairs to her room. As she walked across her large bedroom she wondered if Connor was going to use their new situation to his advantage and make her life a living hell even more over the next five months. Then she snorted at her own stupidity.

  Of course he was going to try. He'd been doing it for over twenty-five years now and wasn't showing any signs of boredom yet. Every single day for twenty-five years the man went out of his way to make her life a living hell. It didn't matter what she was doing or where she was, Connor found a way to leave his mark on her day.

  She still couldn't forget her eighteenth birthday. It started off great. Her brothers woke her up at two in the morning by tying her up and gagging her, a James tradition and one her father tried to make her brothers skip that year. Thankfully they didn't throw her in the trunk of Craig's car as tradition dictated. Instead, they tossed her in the backseat and threw a black pillowcase over her head and teased and tormented her for ten hours by refusing to tell her where they were going.

  When they'd finally pulled the hood off her head and she saw where they'd brought her, she squealed happily as she gave all of her brothers bear hugs. Really, how many brothers were sweet enough to bring their sister to Canada on her eighteenth birthday to get her drunk?

  Best. Brothers. Ever.

  For the first four hours everything had been perfect. After she ate, because her brothers refused to let her drink unless she had food in her stomach, she tried beer, wine and hard liquor. Her brothers took turns watching her, but by the time the first hour had come and gone she was too drunk to really care.

  She was happy and giddy as she danced to every song. Well, she danced when she wasn't drinking. All the men at the bar were super nice, too. They bought her drinks so she didn't have to spend a cent of her own money and jumped at the chance to dance with her. The night was going perfectly until she thought she spotted Connor lurking in the corner, watching her.

  When she couldn't find him again, she just shook it off to an overactive imagination and yummy alcohol. A little while after that, things kind of got fuzzy. From what little she did remember of that night she knew it was all Connor's fault that she woke up the next morning handcuffed to him on a bench while a Mounty with a fresh black eye glared at them from across the room.

  If it wasn't for Connor, she wouldn't have needed to be placed in a cell while her father tried to plow through a dozen officers so that he could wring her neck. The only pleasure she got out of that whole awful experience was watching her father take a swing at Connor, who must have been hung over, because he just stood there and took it.

  "Stay," she told Bunny as she pushed back the dark thick curtains and unlocked the sliding glass door.

  "Took you long enough."

  "What the hell are you doing on my porch?" she asked, not really caring. As long as he didn't break into her house, and surprisingly he didn't, then she really didn't care.

  "For our meeting," he said, leaning a hip against the banister as he sipped his beer.

  "We don't have a meeting," she said even as she allowed her eyes to quickly and discretely run over his rather impressive chest and a set of abs that most men would kill for. While her brothers were huge and muscular, Connor had the type of body any Hollywood leading man would kill for. Not that she would admit it to anyone, but he was by far the best looking man she'd ever seen.

  Her eyes moved back up to his chest and paused at the almost black Celtic tattoo that started on the left side of his chest and ended at his shoulder. It was large, beautifully drawn and unbelievably hot, the tattoo, not the man. She hated the man, but on any other man she would have been hard pressed not to trace it with her fingers or better yet, her tongue. As she forced her eyes elsewhere they landed on part of the tattoo that to this day remained a mystery.

  She knew that she wasn't the only one who wondered who “LRJ” was and why the man had the initials placed in the middle of that tattoo. There were a few betting pools going around about the identity of LRJ, but as far as she knew no one had been able to figure it out. Connor certainly never told anyone. If someone asked, and damn near everyone asked at least a dozen times, well everyone but her, he simply shrugged it off like it was nothing.

  "How many men do you have working for you full-time?" Connor asked, drawing her attention away from her rather disturbing thoughts.

  "Fifty and I have another ten men that I already screened and interviewed for the job," she answered, not caring if he knew any of this. They were working together, kind of, so they'd have to share a few things.

  Connor nodded as he digested the information. He placed his now empty beer bottle on the banister behind him. "How many are certified?"

  "All of them."

  "Can paint?"

  "All of them."

  "Interesting," Connor mumbled, but she didn't think it was. Her father made damn sure that she knew how to build a house from top to bottom and she made sure that all of her employees did as well. If they didn't know how to paint, drywall, put up siding, or do masonry work then she made sure they learned. Since every man that worked for her knew how to do every job she didn't have to put up with delays or waste money by hiring outside help. She also didn't have to waste time stressing over schedules or try to figure out who knew how to do what since all of her men were trained to do whatever was needed of them.

  "Anything else?" she asked, itching to get back inside and go over the plans.

  "Are you in a rush?" Connor asked, chuckling.

  "No," she said, shrugging. "I just don't like you."

  "I'm the best part of your day and you know it," he said and she knew that he truly believed it.

  "Whatever helps you sleep at night, big guy. Are we done yet?"

  But Connor wouldn't let it go, he never did. "Admit that I'm the best part of your day," he said, crossing his arms over his chest as he gave her a cocky smile.

  "I can honestly say with absolutely no hesitation that you, Connor O'Neil, have never been the best part of my day," she said, wondering, not for the first time, what horrible things she'd done in a past life to deserve having him in her life.

  "Puhlease, that's bullshit and we both know it. I bet you fall asleep every night thinking about me and wake up every morning smiling and eager to see me," he mused, sounding smug, too damn smug.

  "Actually, you have that backwards," she said, taking a sip of her perfect hot cocoa.

  "Really?"

  "Mmmhmmm," she said around another sip.

  "How so?"

  "Well," she said, placing her cup of delicious hot cocoa on the small patio table, "I fall asleep every night smiling because I no longer have to worry about seeing you for at least eight hours and wake up every morning thinking about how to avoid you."

  "But you're still thinking about me and smiling when you do it," he said with a wink, leaning over and swiping her hot cocoa before she could stop him.

  "Hey!" she said, trying to grab it out of his hands, but the damn man simply cupped the top of her head and held her back as he downed her delicious hot cocoa. She hated when he did this to her. It made her feel foolish and little and as soon as she got the chance she was kicking his ass.

  "You bastard!" she hissed when he made a big show of smacking his lips.

  "That was a damn good cup of cocoa, Rory. Thanks," he said, handing her back the cup as he dropped his hand away from her head.

  "How could you?" she mumbled as she looked longingly down at the now empty coffee cup where her delicious hot cocoa had once been.

  "Are you ready to admit that I'm the best part of your day?" he asked, leaning back against the banister.

  She glared up at him before looking back down at the empty coffee cup in her hand and then back up at him.

  "Aw, shit," he said, turning and jumping over the banister, crouching down on his own porch just a
s she let the coffee cup fly.

  When it missed his head by a few inches she groaned. So damn close, yet not close enough, she thought as it slammed into the side of his house and shattered.

  "Well, I guess we'll have to continue this conversation tomorrow night when you're in a better mood," Connor said, standing.

  "I'll make sure to bring plenty of coffee cups," she said sweetly.

  "Good," Connor said, sauntering towards his sliding glass door, "because I could really go for another cup of that delicious cocoa," he said, laughing when his beer bottle sailed through the air towards him.

  "Damn it!" She groaned when she missed him again.

  When the hell was her luck going to change?

  Chapter 4

  Connor couldn't help grinning as he took the turn off for Strawberry Manor. His eyes darted to his rear view mirror to check on the long line of employee trucks and equipment following him and then to the dashboard clock. It was almost seven o'clock and there hadn't been a sign of Rory or her team anywhere on the way over here.

  When he snuck out of his house an hour ago he'd been shocked to find her Jeep still in the driveway. He really thought the eager little thing was going to give him a run for his money, but she hadn't. Hell, she hadn't even rigged his truck so that it wouldn't start. It seemed as though she really didn't want this as much as he did, which was kind of surprising. After he let the air out of her tires he left for work, wondering if he even had to worry about her getting in his way after all.

  As far as he was concerned, this early bird definitely caught the worm, the worm being Strawberry Manor of course. Clearly he wanted this project more than Rory. If she wanted it half as badly as he did, she would have had her beautiful ass up at the crack of dawn like he had so she could be here getting everything set up and making an official claim on the project. But, she didn't and hadn't, so this project was his. He couldn't wait to see her face when she realized that he stole the lead.

  He thought of all the different ways to rub it in her face as he drove his truck over the rough broken road. The half mile road and parking lot would have to be replaced soon so they could get equipment and materials up here safely. The thick brush that hugged the private road would also have to be pruned back, but not too much. His client wanted to keep the little trip from the road to the hotel, beautiful. It wouldn't be too hard, he thought as he took the last curve on the private road. They could cut back the trees and shrub ten feet on each side to widen the private road. Then they could-

  "Son of a bitch!" he practically shouted as the hotel and grounds came into view.

  This was not happening! This was not fucking happening!

  A horn honking behind him made him realize that he'd come to a sudden stop. Cursing Rory James to hell, he pulled off to the side where an impromptu parking lot had been created and parked between two pickup trucks. He jumped out of his truck and looked around in disbelief as his crew found spots and parked.

  Not only had she managed to beat him here this morning, but she had the entire construction site set up. Where he'd planned to place his office trailer tomorrow, she had one with tan vinyl siding that looked newer and larger than his. Thanks to the overgrown vegetation and uneven terrain and large equipment there was nowhere for him to place his trailer.

  His eyes quickly ran over the rest of the property. Her large trucks and equipment were lined up along the west side of the property. There were four large dumpsters placed close to each end of the mansion with a makeshift dirt road leading to the cracked parking lot. Hell, she already had several equipment sheds placed as well as latrines.

  Was that a lunch truck?

  "How the hell did she do all this?" he mumbled to himself as he grabbed his hard hat, briefcase, and tool belt before slamming his truck door shut and stormed off towards the trailer.

  When he wasn't even ten feet away, the door to the trailer opened and Rory James stepped out looking innocent as she sipped what had to be a cup of cocoa.

  "Good afternoon, Connor," she said brightly when her eyes landed on him.

  "It's morning," he bit out as he stormed past her and into the rather comfortable looking trailer.

  "Oh, is it? It feels like afternoon, but that probably has something to do with the fact that we've been here for hours," she mused.

  "I can see that," he said, shooting her secretary, her male secretary he might add, a glare as he walked through what appeared to be the waiting room and into the back room that he figured would probably be the office and he was right.

  The office was large, but not large enough. There was hardly enough room as it was for the large desk, drafting table, chairs and filing cabinets that took up the majority of the room. This wouldn't do.

  Not at all.

  He turned around, not at all surprised to find the little cocoa addict leaning against the doorframe, sipping the cocoa that he was tempted to snatch away from her.

  "You need to have the trailer towed out of here," he explained in what he thought was a reasonable tone.

  "No," she simply said with a shrug.

  "Move it or I'll tow it myself," he snapped.

  "Not going to happen," she said, taking a slow sip of her cocoa.

  "Yes, you will," he said, getting into her face.

  "It's so sad that you think that you can push me around," she said, patting his cheek condescendingly before she stepped past him.

  "You're going to have to move your trailer, Rory. I need my office," he bit out through clenched teeth.

  "So do I," she said.

  "What for?" he demanded, tossing his shit on the small loveseat by the door.

  "To work, what else?" she asked, throwing him a frown.

  "To fetch my drinks and be at my beck and call?" he asked, shaking his head. "Nope, you don't need an office for that. All you need is a little chair in the corner and I think we can manage that."

  "Be at your beck and call?" she asked, sounding amused and pissing him off.

  Why in the hell would she think he was joking about something like that?

  "Yup, and if you do a good job I might just let you wash my truck," he said, feeling generous.

  "How long exactly have you been delusional?" she asked as she leaned over to grab something from one of her desk drawers.

  "About a month, give or take a few weeks," he mumbled distractedly as he watched one of the first fantasies he'd ever had come to life.

  Was he dead? he wondered, but decided he really didn't care as Rory pulled off her black tee shirt and tossed it aside like it was nothing, revealing a flat, lightly tanned stomach that he'd love to lick, kiss and caress. He swallowed hard as he took in the tight fitting black sports bra with the large breasts that threatened to pop out.

  He should probably care or at least wonder why she was stripping in front of him, but he didn't. The only thing that mattered was that she was in fact stripping in front of him and none of the fantasies he'd had over the years about her body were even close to the real thing.

  "Rory, I-" her secretary started to say as he walked into the office.

  With a muttered curse for interrupting his fantasy come to life, Connor shoved the man out of the room and slammed the door shut on his very surprised face before turning a glare on Rory.

  She frowned at him while she pulled on a grey Shadow Construction tank top. "What was that about?"

  "What the hell is wrong with you stripping in front of your employees like that?" he demanded, barely resisting the urge to yell at the woman.

  Rory rolled her eyes as she fixed her ponytail. "It's just a sports bra, Connor. Nothing to get excited about," she said and he just barely stopped himself from correcting her.

  "You shouldn't be stripping in front of your employees. What if he sues?" he demanded, barely reigning in his temper when all he wanted to do was throttle the woman for covering up.

  "I would never sue!" her secretary yelled from behind the door. "I'm willing to sign a waiver!"

  "Go awa
y!" Connor snapped in no mood for this bullshit. They had work to do and if Rory decided that she'd be more comfortable wearing something else then he would just have to suck it up and be a gentleman while she changed her shirt again.

  "I need to get to work," Rory said, stepping around the desk and walked towards him, "so unless you can walk and bitch at the same time, I'd say this conversation is over."

  He leaned back against the door, blocking her only exit. "You're not leaving until we get a few things settled." He crossed his arms over his chest as he glared down at her, hoping that for once she'd act like a damn woman and be intimidated enough to do as he asked, but of course he was an idiot for thinking that. With a small sigh, she reached up and latched onto both of his flat nipples and twisted.

  Shit!

  That was definitely one trick he hadn't showed her. No doubt she'd learned that from watching her brothers beat the shit out of each other. Biting back a pained groan, he quickly moved to the side, deciding that he'd let her have this round. When he was well out of the way of the door, she gave him a smug little smile and another twist that threatened to drop him to his knees before releasing him.

  With a contented little sigh, Rory grabbed a tool belt off the small couch and put it on as she sauntered out of the room. When the pain in his nipples subsided he went after her. He caught up with her at the coffee truck.

  "That was a violation of the code, woman," he bit out, barely resisting the urge to grab a handful of ice and press it against his poor abused nipples. The woman fought dirty and he'd been a fool to forget that.

  A little smile tugged at her lips at the reminder of the “Code.” Neither one of them had been happy to call a temporary truce to their little war, but they'd had no choice after the eighth grade dinner dance when things may have gone a little too far.

  No matter what the cops said, he really didn't think it warranted the two of them being placed in adjoining cells all night. Yeah, had everyone left the gymnasium screaming, there were one or two dozen minor injuries, but he really didn't think what they did justified being charged with inciting a riot. It had all been a simple misunderstanding that went horribly wrong.