by Drea Stein
“Has to be replaced,” he said.
Roof tiles were missing and there was clearly a small hole on the other side, which meant that it was probably the main point of entry for the pigeons. Redoing the roof in slate would be expensive, unless they could salvage a bunch of tiles. He’d have to see about that, he thought as he pulled out the notebook he carried in his pocket and jotted down something else to the endless list.
“Jake, you need to see this,” someone called to him.
He went around the foundation and saw Manny pointing to a hole.
“Something’s getting in there. Good news is the rest of it looks pretty sound.”
Jake brightened up. “Really?”
“Well, the foundation is. I don’t know what’s holding up the floor,” Manny amended.
Jake sighed. He wasn’t a big fan of basements. Especially in old buildings, where no one had had the sense to turn them into a man cave. Old basements were creepy, and things tended to live down there.
“I have some flashlights in the truck,” Manny said, trying to sound chipper.
They went inside and began investigating the old theater. Jake made it through the forest of cobwebs with only one rat sighting. Manny had sworn that it was only a mouse, but Jake hadn’t believed him. Now he was in the actual theater room. The chairs had long been stripped away, but the orchestra pit and the stage remained, with the stage prompter box still visible. He vaulted up onto the stage and stood there for moment. The wood was good, so he’d have to find a way to reclaim it. He wasn’t sure where he’d use it yet. There looked to be some water damage toward the far end. He walked toward it and suddenly he felt his legs give way. One moment he was standing, and the next he was sliding down, hard and fast, and everything went black.
When he came to, there was a ring of flashlights in his face. He was lying flat on his back and everything hurt. Which he decided was a good thing. He moved slightly, also a good thing. He sat up and felt woozy.
“Don’t move, boss,” Manny, said, hovering over him, concern lining his weathered face.
“Tell them to stop shining those lights in my eye,” Jake said gruffly.
His head hurt as he tried to get up.
“Wait boss, should we call the ambulance?”
“I’m fine,” he said as he got up. He swayed a little but steadied himself before Manny could see.
He looked around. They were below the stage, the wood floor having given way. The break was clean. He looked around.
“I think it’s the old trap door,” Manny said.
Jake nodded. They were standing on it. It was a trap door so that actors could pop in or out, or things could pop up. They were only about six feet below the stage, so it was easy enough for the guys to lift him out.
Manny shined his light on him and said, “Boss, you don’t look too good.”
Jake brushed a hand over his face. It came away with a fine layer of cobwebs, tinged dark red. He touched the side of his head. Manny handed him a bandana.
“You should get that checked out.”
“I’m fine,” Jake started to say, but then a wave of nausea overtook him. He took a deep breath, and it passed.
“Fine, take me over to the clinic,” he said, only because if it had been one of his guys who’d fallen, he’d make them go to the clinic. He needed to set an example and because lying down was starting to sound like a pretty good idea.
Still, it was pride that kept him upright as Manny took him to the truck.
“I’m driving.”
Jake started to shake his head, but it hurt too much and just handed over his keys.
Chapter 40
The knock on the door interrupted Jake as he was flipping channels. Yet another good reason not to be home in the middle of the day. Nothing was on the television.
“Come in,” he called out, not bothering to get up from the couch. He’d left it open and his arm and head still hurt. If people were going to insist on coming by all day, then he didn’t want to bother getting up and down. He’d gone to the clinic, and the doctor had told him he didn’t have a concussion. He did have a couple of nasty bruises on his back and a headache. A few days rest was all he needed, but he’d only made a few hours and he was going crazy.
The footsteps were light and hurried, and he made an effort to get up when he saw Colleen hovering over him, a worried look creasing her face.
“What the hell happened?” she said as she put a hand on his chest and pushed him back down.
“It’s nothing,” he said.
She looked pretty, in one of his favorite dresses, black with flowers over it. Her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, which curled down over one shoulder. There was a look of unmistakable worry on her face as her hand hovered over him as if she was going to check his temperature.
“Just a bump on the head. I got checked out at the clinic. Hurts, but no concussion,” he told her. Other spots were sore, and he had a nasty bruise on his side, but he’d had worse playing football.
“Thank goodness,” she said, and he saw the worry ease from her face as she leaned back.
“You don’t have to go, you know. Stay a while,” he said with a smile, since she had folded her arms and looked like she was about to rush off. It was a gift, he decided, that she was here, in the middle of the day, an unscheduled, unchaperoned visit. She smelled nice, like lemon and lavender, and he didn’t want her to go just yet.
“It’s lunch time. I just thought I would run over and check on you. Why didn’t you tell me?” A note of reproach was in her voice.
He shrugged. “No big deal. Not like a fall off of a roof or anything like that, because, let me tell you, that really hurts. And we’re supposed to see each other tonight, and I figured I would tell you then.”
“Oh no, no way. We’re not going out tonight. You need to rest.”
He grabbed her hand, pulled her down over the back of the couch and on top of him so that her slim length was nestled up against his.
“How about a kiss?” he said, brushing a hand over her ponytail. “I hear that makes everything better.”
A smile played along her lips and sparked in her eyes as she searched his face. “That only works if you’re under the age of six.”
“We can pretend. Or better yet, you can examine me and see if I sustained any other wounds.”
“Report is that it was just a nasty bump on the head,” she said as she buried her head into his chest. He rubbed his hands down her back, feeling the long, limber length of her.
“Just a little bump on the head,” he repeated. “The old trapdoor gave out underneath me. I knew it was rotted, but I guess it was worse than I thought.” She was warm and soft where she should be soft and strong where she needed to be strong. His aches and pains vanished as he pulled her mouth down to his and kissed her.
“Jake, you’re hurt,” she protested as she broke off the kiss.
He smiled at her, already feeling much better.
“Do I feel hurt?” he asked.
She didn’t respond, but her eyes darkened as her hand moved down his shirt and down to his jeans. He closed his eyes and groaned just a little when she touched him fleetingly. He was, as he always was with her, ready for her. His body couldn’t lie.
“The things you do to me, Colleen,” he murmured as he kissed her again, pouring his need and want into it. He didn’t want her to go, did not want to be stuck on a couch, pining for her.
He wrapped his hands in her hair, and then let them roam over her back, down to the skirt of her dress. He lifted it and felt the silky smoothness of her skin give way to the satin of her delicate underwear. She kissed him back and let herself sink gently into him, as his hands found every part of her, pulling and taking clothes off. She stopped him, smiled at him, and he was sure there was just a hint of a wicked gleam in her eye as she stilled his hands. He felt trapped, at her mercy, and knew without a doubt that once again, Colleen McShane had him dead to rights. There was nothing but her f
or him.
Her hands moved, pulling up his t-shirt, up and over his head, and then she traced her fingers gently down his bare skin so that he shivered. He reached up his hands, eager to see her flesh but she stopped him, and slowly reached behind her, unzipping her dress. He heard the slow agonizing sound and the dress split open, revealing her skin and the pale lacy bra beneath it. She shifted carefully and the dress was off, so that she sat atop of him, her hair undone so that it spilled over her shoulders. She let him touch her now, his hand finding her breast and touching her beneath the fabric of her bra, his fingers working her to arousal.
She unhooked the clasp and her breasts swung free. He moved up just enough so that he could trail kisses down her neck and along the creamy flesh of her skin, nipping at one nipple until it was hard and her breathing was quick and she moaned in pleasure. With his hands, he ran them down the length of her stomach as she shivered in pleasure, his fingers teasing between her thighs. He slipped down the satin softness of her panties and found her already aroused, so he pushed her higher, one arm holding her tightly in place while his mouth took his fill of her and his fingers drove her mad.
He felt her go higher and higher, even as her own hands worked on his button and zipper. Together, they pulled off their remaining clothes, and she mounted him, pushing him back down as he arched into her. Her moans of pleasure turned into a final cry of triumph as her head fell back and he could feel the convulsing waves of pleasure as he finally followed her.
They lay there afterward, breathing heavily, her head on his chest, while he ran his hand over her body. He didn’t say anything, couldn’t; he knew that if he did so, she would only run away. But the thought was clear in his head. He was in love with Colleen McShane, not just a dopey case of high school lust. She was an amazing, sexy, beautiful, accomplished woman, and he wanted her to be his and only his. He brushed back a stray bit of hair, and her eyes opened, looking at him warily. There was a worried smile on her face, and he could almost sense what she was thinking. Guilt and doubt. He could see the woman who was a mother, who had a business to run, who knew better than to be having a lunch-time quickie.
He didn’t try to fight it, just let her eyes fly to her watch and then regarded her calmly as she rolled off of him and gathered up her clothes. He wouldn’t push or ask her for anything more. He grabbed her hand, had her look at him.
“Don’t worry, you still have half of your lunch hour left,” he said.
She smiled, just a little bit, but he could tell that she was still worrying.
He walked her to the door, even though she told him not to. Still, she let him kiss her deeply. She knew she needed to get back, was already mad at what she had done. She had only meant to come over and check on him. She hadn’t meant the desire, want, and need for him to sweep over her. God, she was doing it again, letting sex get in the way of what she needed to do, what she needed to focus on.
“I’ll drive you,” he was muttering as his arms wrapped around her, almost pulling her back into his apartment.
“No way. You need to rest. It will be faster to walk; besides, I have to stop at The Garden Cottage,” she murmured. She made herself get out of the apartment, stand on the small walkway that ran in front of it, and eventually down to the steps that would allow her to escape.
There was the sound of laughter, low and throaty. Colleen stopped. She would recognize that laugh anywhere.
“Ellie?” she said and glanced over. Ellie, who was in the process of pushing Quent out of her apartment door, froze. Colleen pulled herself away from Jake who frowned and then took a step out onto the landing. His eyebrows rose, amusement darting across his face. She elbowed him, as gently as she could. He’d better not start laughing, or she’d be a goner too.
Quent pulled himself up to his full height and put one arm around Ellie, who was blushing. It made her, Colleen thought, look younger and happy.
“What are you doing here?” Colleen blurted out because she couldn’t really think of anything else to say.
Quent was blushing too and was, for once, tongue-tied. It was Ellie who came to all of their rescues: “Quent was just fixing my sink.”
“You could have called the landlord,” Jake said, and Colleen elbowed him again. He caught her arm, before she connected, but his face remained impassive.
“It’s no bother. All fixed now, luv,” Quent said, trying to sound breezy. Colleen hid a smile.
Colleen, reminded of what she’d just been doing, fought the urge to check her own dress and fuss with her hair. They had all been caught, no doubt about it.
Ellie turned her catlike green eyes on Colleen and smiled. “I think perhaps a bit of discretion is best all around, don’t you, sugar? Especially since I called in sick today?”
Colleen nodded. “Bartender code of honor. My lips are sealed.”
There was another awkward silence, and then Colleen said briskly, “I have to go now. Jake, go and get some rest.”
It took him a moment, but his door finally shut, and Colleen practically ran down the landing and took the stairs to the ground, fighting the urge to giggle all of the way.
Quent kept his arm around Ellie as he watched Colleen disappear. Jake’s door had shut with finality, and now it was just the two of them, with just the tinkle of the wind chimes that hung from the eave, dancing in the breeze that was rolling in, gray clouds piling up.
“How long will they keep quiet about it?”
“I’m not worried about Colleen,” Ellie said. “But I don’t think Jake could keep a secret if his life depended on it.”
Quent turned and looked at her, and a smile wreathed his face. “Guess we’re going to have to go public with it. What do you think, luv?”
She turned to him, smiled, and said, without hesitation, “I’m ready if you’re ready.”
“I was ready from the first moment I laid eyes on you,” he said and took his hand to his lips and kissed it.
Chapter 41
“But I want to go.”
It was a whine that only a precocious five year old could muster, and it pierced Colleen’s calm on many levels. She was irritated because Adele was being whiny, but she couldn’t shake a feeling of guilt because she had made a promise, and now she was breaking it. And it was all too much to deal with on too little sleep. Colleen knew she was burning the candle at both ends between tending bar at Quent’s, working on the shop, the sidewalk sale, and sneaking in time with Jake.
But things were coming together, the grand opening and the sidewalk sale coming up. If she could just get to that milestone, then she might be able to ease up a bit, maybe stop working at Quent’s. She would have more time for Adele and for herself if she could quit bartending.
Adele was coloring, but it was with angry slashes of her crayons, in bold, dark colors, as if to show how displeased she was with her current situation. She was supposed to be at Happy Faces nursery school practicing for the spring finale. Adele, if nothing else, took her responsibilities as a tulip seriously.
“I know you want to go to the rehearsal, and we will, honey, I promise.” Colleen checked her watch.
She was waiting for a shipment that she needed to sign for, a container of soaps, and if she missed the UPS guy again, the shipment would be taken back to the depot. She’d have to drive out and pick it up before it was returned to sender, which happened to be a small producer in the South of France. Something like that would only complicate her life, so she was determined to wait, hoping that Serge, her delivery man would appear, and she could still get Adele to rehearsal relatively on time.
“I promise you, the delivery will be here shortly; I’ll sign for what I need, and then I can take you to rehearsal.”
“Fine,” Adele said, her arms crossed across her chest and her eyes narrowed down to small slits.
Colleen didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. It was cute now, at age five, but what would it be like when Adele was seven or nine or, god forbid, sixteen? She just needed to be strong
and not be made to feel so guilty that she missed Serge. It wasn’t like she had stopped for a three-martini lunch and forgotten to pick Adele up. She was working for both of their futures. Who knew, maybe La Belle Vie would turn into a chain of stores with a catalog or at least an ecommerce site. And all because she had remained committed to waiting for Serge.
The bell on the door tinkled. She looked up and didn’t know whether to be pleased or dismayed that it was Jake and not Serge. Still, as Jake strolled in, she reflected that he was a lot better looking than Serge, who was balding with a slight paunch. Not that looks were the most important things, but she felt her mood lighten when Jake smiled at both of them.
“Hello ladies,” he said, smiling. He gave Colleen a look but didn’t kiss her or do anything that would lead to Adele asking questions. He’d come by the bar to keep her company while she worked, and they’d managed to sneak off once or twice to his apartment. Once, he’d stopped and met them at the park where he had pushed her on the swings, watched on the slide and even played tag with her and Josh. He was slowly integrating himself into their lives, and she wasn’t certain how she felt about it.
“What’s going on?” he asked, looking at Adele as he said it.
Adele gave him a sweet smile, her previous bad mood giving way to her natural good humor.
“We are waiting for the UPS man. Mama has a shipment,” Adele said precisely.
“I think I just passed Serge. He was heading in the opposite direction.”
“Mama!” Adele cried.
“Something bothering you, kiddo?” Jake asked.
“I will be late for rehearsal,” Adele said as she slashed some angry red lines across a butterfly’s wings.
“I need to sign personally for the package,” Colleen explained. “And Adele is supposed to be a rehearsal for the spring show.”
