ROOM...BUT NOT BORED

by Dawn Atkins

  "It's nothing personal. It just gets too complicated."

  "Oh, it does?" she said. For some reason, she was wounded that he'd said that so easily—as if she weren't even a temptation. Her inner wild child purred to life—out of sheer stubbornness and exhaustion-induced recklessness.

  "Somebody always wants to turn it into something it isn't," Jake added.

  "And I'm guessing that somebody's never you."

  Jake shrugged. "Living together triggers nesting instincts for women, I guess, and they start bringing in twigs and bits of twine and dryer fuzz."

  "So you think any woman who lived with you would try to trap you into something permanent?" What an arrogant…

  He grinned. "Good point. Not every woman, but why risk it? A good roommate is like gold."

  "I doubt you'd find me a good roommate. I like spic-and-span orderliness and absolute peace and quiet. And classical music."

  "Classical's good. And don't be so down on yourself."

  "I'm not down on myself. I'm trying to tell you—" She stopped, realizing he was teasing her.

  "It's all right, Ariel. I'll find a place to crash for a while—maybe stay on a friend's boat. Can I keep my gear here though?"

  "Your gear? If you can fit it all in the guest room closet, I guess." She remembered the sailboard and surfboards and the weight bench. No way would that fit in one small closet. She sighed. "Take a couple of days," she said, "and find a place for you and your stuff."

  "Great." He sounded relieved. Too relieved. She would stay on his case until he was out. Fully out. Surfboards and all.

  "Thanks for the food," she said, picking up her scraped-clean plate and his. She'd do the dishes as a thank you.

  "I'll clean up when I get back from volleyball," Jake said. "Why don't you come with? I'm heading out in a couple hours."

  "No thanks." Playing was the last thing on her mind. "How about if you clear your things out of my room, while I do the dishes?"

  Before he could respond, there was a thump at the door. Jake went to answer it. Lucky bounded in with did ya miss me? all over his doggie face.

  "So you smelled the omelet, huh, pal?" he said to the big dog. "She ate your share." He stuck a thumb at Ariel, but Lucky didn't take his eyes from Jake. "Okay, okay. I'll scramble you something."

  "I thought table scraps were bad for dogs."

  "But eggs make his coat shiny," Jake said, ruffling Lucky's fur. "He likes my cooking, don't you, Bucko?"

  Ariel did the few dishes while Jake cooked eggs for Lucky. When he'd finished, he slipped the pan into her soapy water.

  "So you'll empty the room now?" she reminded him.

  "Yes, ma'am," he said with a fake salute. "Let's roll, Luck Man. We have our orders."

  Lucky swiped his buttery mug with a long pink tongue, then galloped eagerly after Jake. Ariel's gaze snagged on Jake's terrific butt, the muscles flexing and releasing with grace and power. With a jolt she realized she was letting soapy water drip onto her feet. Stay on task, she told herself. At least she'd gotten Jake to move out of her room. Next would be the cottage.

  But when she peeked into her bedroom ten minutes later, the only change was a pile of vintage Hawaiian shirts on the bed—tossed there from the open closet, which still held a variety of footwear like hiking boots, cycling and athletic shoes and Velcro-strapped sandals, as well as another surfboard.

  Jake stood at the bureau flipping through a magazine while he did one-handed wrist curls with a substantial hand weight, Lucky at his feet, looking up at him. What's next, boss?

  "How's the moving going?" she asked. "Can I help?"

  "Fine." He smiled at her, his biceps swelling with a slow curl, his triceps rippling with its release.

  Her objection died on her tongue at the sight of all that power on casual display. She averted her gaze and noticed a photo on the bureau. Four people were pictured—a stern man in a uniform, a pretty woman with a pageboy cut, a young girl and a teen boy—Jake with shoulder-length hair, dark baggy clothes and a sullen expression that was the opposite of the carefree, wiseass look she'd seen so far.

  "So, this is your family?" she asked.

  Jake stopped lifting weights and looked over her shoulder. "Yep. Ten years ago or so. I was nineteen, I think."

  "You don't look too happy."

  "I wasn't." He studied the photo. "My father and I fought—he was career Navy and I was as far from ship-shape as I could get myself."

  "That must have been rough."

  "Everybody rebels," he said, but she could tell there was more he wasn't saying.

  "So you moved a lot? Being in the military?"

  "Some."

  Standing close to him, she was aware of how broad and sturdy he was and caught the warm coconut smell of his skin. "That must have been hard—leaving friends and school and all…"

  "You make new friends. I learned to pack light in life."

  She thought about how much junk he'd filled the cottage with and wondered what he meant.

  "I think it was harder on my sister than me."

  "Is this her?" Ariel tapped the girl in the photo.

  "Yep. That's Penny."

  "She's pretty. Your mother, too."

  "Penny's a great kid. If I can keep my parents from squashing her spirit."

  "Really?"

  "I think they're afraid she'll turn out like me."

  "And that's bad?"

  "To my folks, yeah. My dad lives to lay down the law. I did okay in school, but not up to muster in his mind. And not only was I not interested in a Navy career, I made it a point to debate military spending at the dinner table."

  "Ouch," she said.

  "I figured I must have been adopted." He grinned at her, but she saw regret in his eyes. And sadness.

  "She looks happy here," Ariel said, picking up another photo of Penny—this one a prom shot with a date.

  "Yeah. But she works hard to keep the peace with the folks—and keep me from worrying about her." He studied the photo.

  It was sweet that Jake was so concerned about his sister. She noticed a more recent shot of Penny with Jake. His blue eyes gleamed with pleasure and his smile was so wide he had a dimple—as if his face couldn't hold his happiness without crinkling.

  "So now you know about my family," Jake said, drawing her gaze away from the picture. He folded his arms and tilted his head in her direction. "Tell me about yours."

  "Not much to tell. My mother lives in Pasadena."

  "Brothers and sisters?"

  "Nope. It's always been just me and my mom. My dad died when I was three."

  "I'm sorry." Jake stood uncomfortably close and studied her face.

  She took a step back and bumped into the bureau. "It's all right. I don't remember him. Mom and I were a good team. Us against the world, you know?" She smiled.

  "You two still close?"

  "Not as much as I'd like. We're both busy. We talk on the phone." She felt a little guilty about that, but with the new business, she'd been obsessed. Troubled by the thought, she focused in on the task at hand. "I'd better let you get back to moving out," she said. "How about if I empty the closet for you?"

  "You always in a hurry?" he said.

  "That's how I get things done."

  "I get the feeling if I don't look out, you'll just mow me down."

  "Doesn't seem likely." She knew from crashing into him earlier that she'd just bounce off his powerful frame. The thought gave her a shiver. She tried not to picture herself falling into him anywhere near a bed.

  Jake shook his head as though he thought she was crazy, but he did sweep up the shirts from the bed, gather an armful of shoes from the closet and carry the whole mess through the broken wall to the guest room.

  Ariel began to hang her dresses, suits and coats in the partially emptied closet, using the metal hangers there. Tomorrow, she'd get her wooden hangers out of storage, along with everything she needed to make the place feel like home. She'd returned to her suitcase and gathe
red an armload of lingerie when Jake returned.

  "What you got there?" he teased.

  She clutched her undies to her chest, painfully aware of how many were granny panties.

  "I'll show you mine if you show me yours." He opened a bureau drawer and lifted out an armload of socks and underwear—boxers, she noticed—in a riot of colors, many of them silk.

  "That's okay," she said, holding her sensible unmentionables more tightly.

  "There's nothing wrong with white," he said.

  She blushed, then just shoved the clothes into the emptied drawer. She wasn't about to organize them with Jake watching over her shoulder.

  "White is a tease," he continued. "Simple and innocent. Take the bra you've got on. It's so thin a guy might think you're not wearing anything at all … just speaking theoretically, of course."

  "Of course." She crossed her arms over her chest.

  "You have no idea what it does to a man when he thinks a woman has nothing on underneath," he said, watching her face.

  She felt an unnerving tickle between her legs, so she turned to grab up more clothes—slips and scarves—from her bag.

  She turned back just as he mused, "No snaps, no latches, no hooks… Just one thin layer of fabric between us and glory." He grabbed some T-shirts from a drawer, emptying it, then grinned at her, "And if there are no panties … well, that's like winning a Powerball."

  "What makes you think I want to know this?" she said, shoving her clothes into the emptied space, unhappily close to Jake, who leaned against the bureau.

  "Don't women wonder what men think about?"

  "We already know—sex … every fifteen seconds, right?" She closed the drawer with an authoritative hip check.

  "Well, I don't wear underwear." He winked. "In case you're curious."

  She couldn't help glancing at the crotch of his swim trunks. When she dragged her gaze back up, he was waiting for her with a smirk. Gotcha.

  "Women buy me these," he said, lifting the load in his arms. "God knows why."

  Especially because he probably wasted no time getting out of them. He wandered away, Lucky lumbering after him. Ariel watched him go, unable to believe she was joking about underwear with a man she'd only known for four hours.

  Her energy seemed to give Jake momentum, at least, and he picked up the pace. While she emptied her second suitcase, Jake dragged the weight bench out, along with some things piled in the corner—a basket with Frisbees and balls and a brightly colored fabric kite—whistling cheerfully the entire time.

  Ariel was putting the photo of her and her mother on her nightstand when Jake stopped to look. "Your mom?" he said, picking up the pewter frame and examining its contents. Light flashed from the glass onto his face.

  "Yeah. Christmas three years ago." She and her mother stood with their arms around each other's waist in front of the fake Christmas tree in her mother's manufactured home. Myra, one of the diner waitresses, had taken the shot.

  "You look like her," Jake said, studying the picture. "Same jaw and mouth. Your eyes are the same green. Nice."

  "Thank you." She looked down at the photo again, concentrating on her mother. "She looks tired, don't you think? She worked double shifts to afford this Christmas." That had to stop. Ariel couldn't wait to make enough money to supplement what her mother made at the diner, so she could work part-time, maybe go to school, have some vacation, do something she really wanted besides work, work, work. The thought of that put the fire in Ariel's belly again. She would make this business fly, or die trying.

  "So, invite her out here for a weekend," Jake said. "She can hit the beach and relax."

  Ariel laughed. "My mother at the beach? I can't imagine." It would be good for her to take a breather, though, and the two of them could do some real talking for a change. Maybe after she'd made some headway with her business and the cottage was finished, she'd invite her mother out to see the place.

  Jake put the photo on the bureau, then surveyed the room. "Looks like you're set."

  "For now. Tomorrow I'll get my office equipment and personal stuff out of storage. Rent a truck, I guess."

  "You need a truck? I can borrow one easy, if you'd like."

  She looked at him. Borrowing a truck would be quicker and cheaper. Otherwise, she'd have to take buses to where her car was waiting in a friend's garage, drive to the truck rental place, backtrack to return the truck. "I hate to put you out. You have all the work on the cottage to do."

  "I've got plenty of time for that."

  "Just a month."

  He just grinned, acknowledging her jab, but brushing it off. "Let me give you a hand."

  "Okay. I'd appreciate that. I'll pay for gas, of course."

  "Come on. We're roommates."

  For some reason, they both looked straight at the unmade bed, still dented from her nap. Ariel suddenly needed him out of the gold-lit room that was entirely too intimate for strangers—even strangers who'd examined each other's underwear.

  She looked toward what would be Jake's room—for tonight at least—and saw the gaping hole. "Maybe we should put that sheet up now? Between the rooms? Maybe one of those canvas drop cloths would work." Nice and thick and opaque.

  "You sure? You won't bother me. Unless you walk in your sleep? And that wouldn't necessarily be a problem…" He was teasing her, but she felt that funny quiver all up and down her spine.

  "I'm a very quiet sleeper," she said primly. "But I'd like the canvas, please."

  "You're the boss," he said and headed away, grinning, Lucky at his heels.

  Jake brought back the canvas and Ariel held it up while he nailed it in place. It was thick, but no sound barrier. She thought about telling Jake not to bring Heather home, but decided she'd probably ordered him around enough for the night, and vowed to be asleep before any hanky-panky got started.

  A snuffling sound made her turn. There stood Lucky with his head squished into an odd shape, a silky trunk of panty hose hanging from his muzzle. Her last pair of fancy stockings!

  "How did you get those?" she asked him, tugging the panty hose off his face and holding them up. "Ruined."

  Jake laughed. "That's no way to get into a lady's underwear, Lucky."

  "I spent a fortune on these."

  "You've got great legs, why cover them up?"

  "It's just the principle of the thing," she said, though the compliment was not lost on her. Her fancy nylons were ruined, kind of like her life plan right now. The beach was out to get her one way or another. She balled up the shredded delicate and shot Lucky a fierce look.

  Who, me? Lucky's expression seemed to say. Just like Jake.

  "Come on, Lucky," Jake said. "I think we just wore out our welcome." He held open the drop-cloth curtain between the bedrooms until Lucky passed over. He hesitated before following. "Holler if you need any more help," he said.

  Help? God save her from any more of his help tonight. "I'll be fine, thanks," she said, relieved when he let the cloth barrier fall between them.

  * * *

  Chapter 4

  «^»

  While Ariel carefully folded and organized the unmentionables Jake had repeatedly mentioned, she could hear him clunking around in his room. White is a tease, he'd said. Simple and innocent. Her cheeks heated. Please. He was just one line after the next.

  When she'd finished putting all her things away, she surveyed the room. It needed her pictures on the wall and her rocking chair and her linens, all of which were in storage. But with Jake's truck, she'd be able to pick up everything. That was one thing off her to-do list.

  Now to call her mother. She'd alerted her from London that she'd be returning. She tapped in the number, determined to put things in the best possible light so her mother wouldn't worry.

  "I'm baaack," she said when her mom picked up.

  "I'm so sorry, sweetie. You had your heart set on London."

  "But this is a challenge, too," she said. "Building my own business will be fun." Her stomach twiste
d with tension.

  "How's the beach house?"

  "Very … beachy. Trudy was having it fixed up. So I'm, urn, dealing with that."

  "When you set your mind to something, you make it happen. You're like me that way."

  "I hope I'm like you."

  "Of course you are. Your father was so distractible. Always ready to change directions. You have a good head on your shoulders."

  With Jake in the equation, though, Ariel wasn't so sure she could plow through with her usual efficiency.

  "What's the matter?" her mother asked.

  "Nothing really. The handyman who's doing the work is, uh, living here, too."

  "Oh. Well. Is that wise?"

  "I don't think so. I've asked him to make other arrangements."

  "That's smart. Is he skilled?"

  "He seems a tad too easygoing to me, but Trudy says he's good."

  "Does she have a contract with him?"

  "I don't know. At least I haven't seen one." Jake had probably made a paper boat of it and floated it out on the tide.

  "Big mistake with easygoing workmen. I've heard it all at the diner. Pin him down, dear. Get it in writing."

  "I'll take care of it, make sure he does what needs doing."

  "I have no doubt you will. You're a wonder." Ariel wished she were as confident as her mother about that.

  Her mother gave a tired sigh.

  "Are you all right, Mom? You sound worn out."

  "Long day. I'll just put my feet up," she said. Ariel heard her rustle around. "There, that's better."

  Her mother's condition worried her and she remembered what Jake had said. "Why don't you come out to the beach with me?"

  "That would be nice, dear," her mother said politely.

  "No, I mean let's plan it. Take a Saturday off and spend the day with me. The whole weekend, if you'd like." Jake would be long gone by then.

  "We're pretty busy at the diner."

  "No one would mind if you took a weekend off."

  "Maybe not…" she said. "But what about your business?"

  "Everyone needs a break, don't they?" She held her breath.

  "I'd like to spend some time with you, but I'm not much of a beach person."

  "Neither am I," Ariel said.