Bare Essentials

by Leslie Kelly Jill Shalvis

  But he couldn’t. His family had done enough to hurt the Jones women. Until he could find some way to right the wrong, he couldn’t let himself see Kate again.

  It had been impossible to stay away from her. He’d been drawn to her, easily locating her store on Michigan Avenue. Twice he’d watched her from outside, trying to figure out how to go in and face her. The second time he’d had his hand on the door handle, prepared to go inside. Then he’d seen her in the closed shop in the arms of a tall, dark-haired man. He’d driven away, never finding out whether the guy had been friend or lover. But the image of her with another man had given him some long, sleepless nights.

  Like now.

  He closed his eyes again, determined to sleep, then opened them as he heard a noise through the wall. A bang. A low curse. Both came from next door, inside what should have been the empty half of the duplex, which belonged to Edie’s sister.

  “Son of a bitch.” Jumping up, he grabbed some sweatpants and ran downstairs, figuring the vandals had returned.

  Whoever the vandals were, they weren’t very smart. The front door to the adjoining unit was wide open. He easily made out the beam of a flashlight moving around upstairs. Ready to transfer all his unexpended sexual energy into some violence against the intruders, Jack took the stairs two at a time. In the upstairs hall he turned toward the room directly beside the one in which he’d been lying next door. As he burst in, the beam of a flashlight, held by a dark-clothed person, swung toward him.

  “Stop right there, you rat bastard,” Jack snarled as he tackled the person and took him to the floor.

  “Ow, get off me!”

  A female voice had spoken. Definitely a soft, curvy female body cushioned his against the hard floor. A mass of thick, dark hair spilled across his hands and brushed against his bare chest. Catching the achingly familiar sweet scent of lemon, he knew even before he saw her who it was. “Kate?”

  The flashlight thunked as it rolled out of her hands, swinging around to shine on her face.

  She stopped struggling beneath him and stared up, finally recognizing him in the shadowy darkness. “Jack?”

  “I’m sorry.” He rolled off her. “Did I hurt you?”

  She sat up, sucking in deep breaths, but didn’t answer. When Jack reached toward her, to make sure she was real and all right, she flinched away as if she couldn’t bear his touch.

  He probably deserved it. He couldn’t imagine what she’d made of his silence since their meeting. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” she finally answered, her voice shaky and her breathing still shallow. “What are you doing here?”

  “I could ask the same of you.”

  “This is my aunt’s house. She knows I’m here, she told me I could stay for a while.”

  Kate staying right next door? Sleeping in this room, directly next to the one where he’d be sleeping? Moving around in this house behind one all-too-thin wall so he’d be able to hear her sigh in her sleep or step into the shower?

  God help him.

  “Now, answer my question, Jack. Why are you here in the middle of the night?” She glanced down, as if just noticing his bare chest and loose sweats. Her eyes immediately shifted away, but not before he saw her lips part so she could suck in a deep, shaky breath.

  “I’m staying here.”

  She jerked her attention back to his face. “Staying? Here?”

  “I mean, next door. I’m renting the duplex next door.” He paused. “Your mother’s place.”

  “My mother’s…wait, you know my mother?” She paused. “You know who I am?”

  “Yes. To both questions.”

  “How? And what do you mean, you’re renting Mom’s duplex? That’s not possible. You can’t be living in her house.”

  “You didn’t know she’d rented it out?”

  “Well, of course, but to J. J. Winfield…” Her voice softened. Even in the low lighting provided by the flashlight and the moon shining in through the bare front window, he saw her cheeks go pale and her mouth drop open. “Oh, no. Tell me your name is not J. J. Winfield.”

  He shook his head, sending a bolt of relief shooting through her body. “No, it’s not.” Her relief quickly disintegrated when he continued. “No one except my parents and your mother have called me J.J. since I was a teenager. I go by Jack now.”

  Kate couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Certainly she couldn’t speak. The man she’d had fabulous sex with in the theater several weeks ago was J. J. Winfield—the son of Mayor John Winfield? The man she’d come back to town to seduce and to destroy was the one who’d already hurt her so badly by breaking his promise to call after their amazing encounter? She covered her eyes. “This is a nightmare.”

  “Kate, I’m sorry, I had no idea you were coming back to Ohio. Your mother never mentioned it.”

  She didn’t know which was worse. That he was here and she had to face her inattentive lover, or that he was John Winfield Junior. Somehow, the memory of all those long, silent, lonely weeks since she’d seen him last seemed the more devastating now.

  “No, of course you didn’t know I was coming.”

  Her mother couldn’t have told him, because even she hadn’t known. Kate and Cassie hadn’t told Edie because Kate knew her mother too well. She’d be on the first plane back here if she thought Kate was coming to stay in town.

  Cassie was one thing—everyone in the family knew Cassie could take care of herself. With her looks, brains and her self-confidence, Cassie had never really had to rely on anyone for anything. Except love and loyalty, which the Tremaine women were always quick to provide to one another.

  But, to Kate’s eternal annoyance, her mother seemed to think Kate was too easily hurt, too vulnerable, and in need of protection. Which really sucked when she wanted people to see a hardworking, intelligent, kick-ass businesswoman. Not the girl who’d cried into her teddy bear after so many childhood hurts, the girl who’d hidden in her tree house and made up stories about how her father hadn’t really died and would one day come back.

  Not the girl who’d been dumped on prom night.

  Jack couldn’t have heard about her return from anybody else, either. Kate and Cassie had been careful to keep their plans quiet, to avoid the inevitable protests and backlash. She was sure many people had known Cassie had been working in the old storefront for the past three weeks, preparing to open a ladies’ shop, but not the exact nature of the ladies’ shop.

  “No, you couldn’t have known I’d show up. You never would have stayed here, in this house, had you known,” she said. “Because, you couldn’t very well avoid me if we were practically roomies. And obviously, you had no intention of seeing me again. Right?” She couldn’t keep the accusation out of her voice. She wondered if he heard the tinge of hurt there, too.

  She waited for him to run the usual male line. I meant to call you, babe, just lost your number…forgot to pay my phone bill…broke my dialing finger…was sent away on a deadly, top-secret government mission.

  “I should go,” he said, not even acknowledging her justified anger.

  His lack of response angered her even more. He couldn’t even attempt to make up a lame excuse? He wasn’t going to be courteous enough to give her the chance to tell him what she thought of him? Wasn’t going to try to sweet talk her so she could tell him he could touch her again when hogs started flying over Pleasantville, leaving the appropriate droppings right down the middle of Magnolia Avenue?

  That wasn’t how the game worked. Uh-uh. No way was he getting off so easily. “Oh, sure, I know you must be a busy man. Too busy to even, oh, I dunno, pick up a phone once in a while?”

  “Kate…”

  “What, Jack? You expect me to be like your Lilac Hill girlfriends? Like your sister, Angela?” She spat out the name, not caring if he heard her dislike. “I’m supposed to be brushed off quietly, like a lady, not bring up the fact that I’m unhappy you lied?”

  “I didn’t lie…”

  “Y
ou shouldn’t have promised, Jack. You shouldn’t have made a big deal out of swearing you’d see me in two days. I was willing to let it end right then and there outside the Rialto. But you had to be Mr. Noble, Mr. Good Guy. You made me think of what happened as something more than it was. You hurt me and, damn it, you have no business hurting me!” To her horror, she heard her voice break. If one tear fell down her cheek, she mentally swore she’d poke her own eye out.

  “Kate, honey, I’m sorry. Listen…”

  “Forget it,” she snapped. “Forget I said anything.”

  “I thought about you all the time,” Jack said, his voice low and throaty in the near darkness. “But things got…complicated.”

  She snorted. “Complicated. Uh-huh.” She started to rise. “Look, I don’t really care. You shouldn’t have said you wanted to see me again if you didn’t plan to, that’s all.” Swallowing hard, she continued. “We’re both adults. We both knew it didn’t mean anything.”

  Her words seemed to anger him. He grabbed her wrist and held her, not letting her get up beyond her knees. “Like hell. It meant a lot, Kate, and you know it.”

  His green eyes sparkled with intensity in the near darkness, and she could almost believe him. Then she remembered his name. His lineage. And knew she could never trust a word that came out of his heartbreaking mouth.

  “No, Mr. Winfield. It didn’t mean anything more than any other sexual encounter between two strangers.” She jerked her arm away, stood and brushed off her jeans, wincing as she realized he’d knocked her hipbone right into the floor with his tackle. It already ached.

  “We’re not strangers.” He stood, as well, standing so near she could feel his warm breath against her hair. She bit her lip, trying not to look at him, trying not to remember the feel of his hot, hard chest pressing against hers. Trying to erase the mental picture of him standing above her, his face filled with need and passion, as he thrust into her while she lay on the table at the Rialto.

  “We recognized something in each other from the minute our eyes met,” he continued. “That’s never happened to me before.”

  From out of the near darkness, she felt his hand move to her cheek. She pushed it away. “Back off, J.J. Don’t touch me.”

  “Ouch. I don’t know which is worse, hearing you tell me not to touch you, or hearing you call me J.J. Please call me Jack.” His voice moved lower. She realized he’d bent to pick up the flashlight only when he brought it up and shone it on them both.

  The light looked pretty damn good on him. His chest. His tousled, right-out-of-bed hair. His thick, muscular arms and broad shoulders. His green eyes, not twinkling with humor now, but dark and confused. His mouth…

  She gulped, then crossed her arms in front of her chest, looking for a defense mechanism when there was really none to be found that could halt her physical attraction to him. Finally she said, “What kind of stupid nickname is Jack, anyway?”

  “What?”

  She knew she sounded like a belligerent kid, but couldn’t help herself. Sarcasm was her only defense. “I mean, come on, aren’t nicknames supposed to shorten your real name? Like Kate instead of Katherine? What genius decided to change a four-letter word like John into a four-letter word like Jack?” Four-letter word being the operative phrase, here.

  She saw his lips turn up as he shook his head and gave a rueful chuckle.

  “Oh, I amuse you now? You break in here, tackle me, almost break my back…” Almost break my heart… “And now you’re laughing at me?”

  “No, I’m actually agreeing with you. It doesn’t make much sense, does it? But anything’s better than J.J.”

  “So what’s wrong with plain old John? It’s good enough for your average, everyday toilet, isn’t it?”

  “Ouch. You’re really pissed.”

  She clenched her jaw, mad at herself for letting him see her anger, which he would rightly assume had to have evolved out of hurt. She took a few deep breaths, trying to regain control. Where was her infamous control? Gone, baby. Gone for weeks, since that kiss on the steps of Mrs. McIntyre’s Tea Room.

  Finally she forced a shrug. “No, I’m not, not angry at all.” A strained laugh emerged from between her clenched teeth. “I’m just tired and cranky from getting knocked on my rear by a six-foot-tall man in the middle of the night.”

  “I’m so sorry about knocking you down. I had no idea it was you moving around over here. I was afraid someone had come back to cause more problems for your mother. I told her I’d look after the house for her. Both houses, actually.”

  “Why would you do that?” she asked, still not able to comprehend him being here. “Why would you, a mighty Winfield, care what happens to your trashy Tremaine maid’s house?”

  He stepped closer, holding her chin and forcing her to look up at him in the semidarkness. She remembered, suddenly, how tall he was. How petite and feminine he’d made her feel.

  Their bodies were only inches apart and she could smell his musky, clean scent, and feel warmth radiating from his hard, bare chest. Her body reacted instinctively, getting hot and achy. Her nipples felt incredibly sensitive against the cotton of her sleeveless tank top, and her jeans were suddenly uncomfortably snug. She wanted nothing more than to taste him. All over.

  “Your mother was the nicest person I knew growing up,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “And I hated to hear what this town had done to her because of my father.”

  Kate’s eyes widened. Did he know? Could he possibly know about Edie’s affair with the mayor? She took a deep breath and carefully asked, “Your father?”

  He let go of her face, walking over to stare out the un-draped window at the shadowy front lawn. “My father left her a small amount of money, when by rights he owed her more.” He cleared his throat and shook his head. “A lot more. As usual, the town looked for scandal and decided to crucify her with spite and innuendo because of it.”

  No. He didn’t know. He didn’t understand the truth. Kate, Cassie and Edie were still the only ones who knew the Pleasantville gossipmongers really had the story right.

  And that’s the way it was going to stay.

  “Okay, you liked her. You wanted to help her. Why does that equal you living here, in her house, instead of with your mother and Angela at your family’s place?” Her voice dripped dislike. “Don’t tell me you’re not one big, happy, rich Winfield family?” She could tell by the look in his eyes, and the way his jaw clenched, that he was mentally arguing over how to answer. “Come on, Jack, what’s the story?”

  Finally his eyes shifted away from her face and he muttered, “You know my father died only a few months ago.”

  She bit the corner of her lip, trying hard to remember Mayor Winfield had actually been someone’s father. Swallowing her dislike, she murmured, “Yes, I know. I’m sure that’s been painful for you.”

  “It’s been difficult. I never realized…”

  “What?” she prompted.

  “I don’t know. How much I cared about him, I guess?” He gave a sad laugh. “How much I’d miss him, even as I find out day by day how very little I knew him.”

  Having lost her dad at a young age, Kate could understand that feeling of wishing she’d had a chance to know a parent. “I’m sorry, Jack. I know how it is to lose your father.”

  “I know you do. You were a kid when you lost yours, right?”

  She nodded. “Six.”

  He shook his head. “Awful. Your mom was so young to be a widow.” He lowered his voice. “And she never remarried.”

  No, Edie had never remarried. She’d instead wasted decades on a man who was married to someone else. Kate rubbed a weary hand over her brow. “No. But we’re talking about your father.”

  “Yes, we are,” Jack replied. “He left a mess behind him.”

  More than you could possibly know.

  “I told my mother I’d come help her out this summer, sell some real estate, get some paperwork taken care of.”

  “And you can�
��t do that on Lilac Hill?”

  “I’m a grown man, Kate. Can you picture me living in my mother’s house for a month, being scolded not to let my shoes scuff up her tile floor, and to be careful not to rumple the plastic on the sofa in the parlor?”

  She couldn’t help it. She burst into laughter. “She has plastic on the sofa?”

  A faint smile crossed his lips. “Yeah.”

  “Does it ever come off?”

  He shook his head.

  “Not even if the First Lady came over?”

  “Well, maybe the current one. But definitely not a Democrat. And certainly it wouldn’t come off for me!”

  Suddenly his childhood sounded less golden than she’d always imagined. “Sounds like you were the classic poor little rich kid.”

  “I did okay. Thankfully, your mother was around a lot.”

  Kate’s smile faded. Yeah, her mother had been around the Winfields a lot more than he knew. She wondered what he’d think about that.

  In her heart she knew it would hurt him, just as it had hurt her to learn a parent she loved really hadn’t been perfect. Maybe if she were a vindictive person…or maybe if Jack weren’t already mourning his father’s death…she’d have told him. As it was, she simply couldn’t. No matter what he’d done to her, no matter how much his broken promises had hurt her, she couldn’t repay him with that kind of spite.

  His sister was much better at that, she recalled.

  “Anyway, I wanted to be on my own,” he continued. “There aren’t a lot of furnished short-term rentals around. Your mom seemed happy to let me stay here for a month. End of story.”

  Kate sensed it wasn’t really the end of the story, but she was too tired to think about it tonight. She still hadn’t quite absorbed the fact that she was here, back in Pleasantville, this time not only for an afternoon, but for weeks.

  And Mr. Gorgeous was her next-door neighbor. Oh, joy.

  “You need to leave,” she finally said, wanting him out of here before she did something terribly stupid. Such as kick him, kill him. Or even worse, kiss him. “I’m tired and I want to go to sleep.”