by Sally Falcon
The minute he was out of sight, Abby turned to her boss. “Do you think he’s going to make any progress with Jessie?”
“I don’t know,” she answered honestly, chewing on her lower lip as she considered the matter. “You’d better lighten up on him the next time, though. He might get a little suspicious.”
“I didn’t do anything,” the blonde exclaimed innocently.
“But you were planning to.”
“All right, so I was going to introduce them at my party. As it turned out I didn’t have to.” She shrugged off the matter but couldn’t resist giggling over the situation.
“It really is kind of funny,” Tory admitted, sharing her friend’s amusement, “but there will be blood on the moon if he even thought we knew about him and Jessie. He threatened me that day at the office.”
“I can imagine it had something to do with a certain Yankee.”
Tory’s smile quickly disappeared with the allusion to Logan Herrington. “We can’t stand here talking all day. There’s too much to get done before the opening.”
Chapter Six
Two days later, Jessie hesitated at the doorway to Trevor’s bedroom, a pen and pad in her hand, listening to Restless Heart sing their signature tune through her portable radio headphones. This was the last room on her list, and the song wasn’t helping her resolve. She’d already checked the other two rooms that had posed a problem, and that left her at an impasse. All she had to do before she returned to the office was to step across the threshold.
She’d been avoiding the sparsely furnished room since she discovered the identity of the owner. Knowing who slept here made her presence seem more like an invasion than simply checking measurements. For over a week she had been in and out of the house, carefully scheduling the time for when she was sure Trevor was gone, and she had been in every room except this one.
He hadn’t bothered to make the huge brass bed today. The rumpled sheet and indented pillow heightened the sense of his presence, as if he was going to step from the bathroom just finished with his shower. She adjusted the volume on her headphones as Michael Bolton began a soulful ballad. Double checking the window measurements wasn’t really that important today, was it?
Taking a step backward, she told herself the decision to wait had nothing to do with the discarded shirt at the foot of the bed. She knew she was acting like an idiot. It was only a room, nothing more. But she took another step backward only to collide with something solid. A split second later, an arm snaked around her waist. Her scream drowned out Michael Bolton’s smoky voice. Then the music was gone, the earphones pulled off her head.
“Dammit, Jessie,” Trevor swore in her ear, “you took about ten years off my life.”
She couldn’t stop trembling, leaning limply against the solid warmth of his body and gasping, “You didn’t do much for my blood pressure, either.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I came up the back stairs and didn’t know anyone was here.” His left arm curled around her shoulders, enclosing her in a soothing embrace. As he rubbed his cheek against her hair, Jessie relaxed in the comfort of his arms. Tinny sounds coming from the headphones looped around his forearm, however, quickly brought her back to reality.
She reached up automatically to turn off the radio. “I didn’t know you were home. I’ve been here for a half hour checking some measurements.”
“I was out in the garage working on the kitchen cabinets and came up to get ready for work,” he explained, the words warm and moist against her ear. His heartbeat was strong, slightly fast, against her back and echoing the rhythm of her own. “Do you wear this gadget often?” he asked, holding up the headphones.
“It helps me concentrate on the numbers when I’m alone.” Silently, she pledged that she was never going to wear them in his house again. Now that her initial terror had dissipated, she became all too aware of the masculine body holding her in the dark hallway. There wasn’t an inch to spare between her and his lean, hard body. Her difficulty in breathing seemed to be increasing, not decreasing. Staring down at the pen and pad on the floor, she wondered what to do with her hands, resisting the urge to run them over the corded arm around her waist.
“I don’t think you want to move just yet.” The words were clipped in response to her slight movement.
“Trevor, I can’t stand here all day.” Desperation made her impatient. All she wanted to do was give in to temptation and rest her head in the hollow of his shoulder.
“I’m not dressed, Jessie.”
Immediately, she froze in place. “What are you saying?”
“I don’t have on any clothes.”
She wasn’t sure why he sounded exasperated about the situation, but her mind wasn’t functioning very well. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why don’t you have on any clothes?” she snapped, suddenly very conscious of the thin material of her silky print dress. Her back felt like it was on fire, and she didn’t want to think about the other sensations she was feeling. She shifted her feet, hoping to put some distance between them.
“Don’t wiggle.” His curt words shot through her like an electric shock. “I had a towel, but I think it’s on the floor now. It wasn’t a very big towel anyway, just a courtesy to any curious neighbors while I sprinted up the stairs.”
“Are you making any sense?” she asked wildly, not really listening to him. She was concentrating with great difficulty on not thinking about his body, or hers.
“Yes, I think so.” His voice sounded rough to her ears, and confused. “My clothes were pretty grimy when I came in, and I used the sauna to loosen up my muscles. I didn’t check for towels until I got out and could only find a kitchen towel. The only windows with curtains are in the kitchen and my bedroom. Now do you understand?”
His warm breath tickled her neck, and she tried not to shiver in response. “W—what do you suggest we do?”
“Damned if I know.”
“Trevor.”
“Look, I’m trying to be a gentleman about this, but it’s getting damned ha—difficult. I’m not made of stone.”
Neither am I. She closed her eyes and immediately regretted it. A clear vision of his taut, muscular body materialized, one she’d been trying to suppress just minutes earlier while staring at his bed. The sound of their erratic breathing echoed in the ominously silent hallway.
“Okay, this is what we’re going to do,” he announced abruptly, making her start in reaction to the sudden sound. Trevor groaned. “You’re going to close your eyes very tightly so I can disappear with some dignity into the bedroom. Okay? And for my sake, don’t nod.”
“Yes, I understand.” And she did, more than he knew. She wasn’t sure she would be able to stand alone if he let go of her, but she couldn’t tell him that. He couldn’t know that her body was melting from the inside, all her senses centered on the rigid pressure against her buttocks.
“Okay, sweetheart, close your eyes and no peeking.”
Jessie didn’t bother to answer his attempt at humor. She was too preoccupied for bracing herself for the moment he would release her, hoping she wouldn’t collapse at his feet. With her eyes closed, the minutes passed like hours. Then she realized he was still holding her. “Trevor?”
He didn’t answer immediately, his arms at her waist and shoulders tightening slightly. His mouth was warm and moist against her ear and the tender skin of her neck, making her lightheaded. “I want you to remember that I was a gentleman about this, Jessica DeLord, and someday soon, the sooner the better, I’m going to claim my reward.”
Suddenly she was free. Jessie didn’t look back, scrambling down the stairway as fast as she could the minute the bedroom door closed. When she reached the bottom, she sagged against the banister. She had just experienced the most harrowing twenty minutes of her life. Though she wasn’t an innocent, those minutes in Trevor’s arms were more intoxicating than any intimacy she’d shared with another man. If she hadn’t suspected that he was a dang
erous man before this, she knew it now.
Until today, she was sure she could withstand any of his snares. All he had done was hold her. She would have been putty in his hands if he had decided to press his advantage. It wasn’t fair that she was falling under the spell of an irresponsible man. Hadn’t her father’s betrayal of her mother taught her a harsh enough lesson?
Looking toward the top of the stairs, she knew that she was going to have to face her demon soon. Avoiding Trevor wasn’t doing any good. In fact, she wondered if delaying the inevitable wasn’t heightening her sense of jeopardy. Dragging a hand through her tousled hair, she knew she wasn’t in any condition to make a decision right now. In her weakened state of mind, it made perfect sense to climb the stairs and join Trevor in the shower.
She resolutely stood up straight and slowly walked to the door. The first move would have to come from him. He’d been dropping by the office each day, his conversation teasing and sensual, but he hadn’t so much as suggested a lunch date. What exactly did he want from her? Her conditions for working on the house echoed in her mind. Since when had Trevor paid attention to anything she said?
“How are things on the baby front?”
Trevor glared across the table at Logan. “If you knew what I went through just a couple of hours ago, you wouldn’t be smiling.”
The other man relaxed against the wooden back of the booth. “Is that why you’re drinking three hours before air time?”
“I did the early report tonight.” Trevor took a swig from the long-necked bottle but didn’t really taste the beer. His mind was still returning to the agonizing moments in the hallway. Life just wasn’t fair, he decided. “You know, for years I’ve been fairly happy, having a good time with my life. Now I’m beginning to wonder if I’m being punished for having a good time.”
“It can’t be all that bad.”
“Have you ever had to work at being a gentleman in a situation that was downright explosive?” he asked earnestly.
“Do you really want me to answer that with your sister trying to teach me how to be a Southern gentleman over the past few weeks?”
Trevor considered the matter and decided that it wouldn’t be a good idea to ask too many probing questions. Like any rational man, he didn’t want to know what was happening in his sister’s love life. He was satisfied with the interrogation he and Curtiss had held a few days earlier. “You can’t be doing any worse than I am. I keep trying to show her that I’m just an average guy, but somehow I keep making matters worse. That’s where this retribution thing for my past sins comes in. By now Jessie either thinks I’m an idiot or a sex maniac.”
“Why not simply sit down and talk to her about the problem?”
“That’s reasonable, except I can’t quite get up the nerve,” Trevor answered, grimacing over the admission. “Ain’t that downright macho? I think I’m not facing the problem because I don’t want her to disappear out of my life just yet. If she can’t reject me, I still have a chance. That’s why I haven’t followed Tory’s advice yet.”
“What advice is Tory giving out?” Logan sat forward, his eyes glittering with interest.
“Think it might give you some insight into my sister’s tortuous brain? Well, she said I needed to find out what qualities Jessie is looking for in a man, since I know I’m not a shining example.” He waited for Logan’s comment, then continued when the other man remained silent. “I’ve considered calling her partner. Gina seems to be on my side and might be able to fill me in on my shortcomings.”
“Not a bad idea, unless you think your Jessie might resent this little conspiracy later.”
“That’s a possibility, but in this case I think the end justifies the means,” Trevor rationalized, suddenly feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. “Naturally, there’s always the chance the list of my faults might be insurmountable.”
“She’s that important to you, then?” Logan sent Trevor a compassionate look, showing his friend that he understood his dilemma.
“I think so. At least she’s too important to let go before I figure out how I feel,” he responded, still not quite ready to surrender his freedom. Though he’d let desire overcome his common sense a few times in his checkered past, he was discovering that dealing with deeper emotions was a much more thought-provoking and intimidating prospect.
“Being serious about a particular woman isn’t a fate worse than death, you know,” his companion informed him with a rueful smile. “All you have to do is convince her of the same thing.”
“Now we’re back to my original problem. She made conditions when she agreed to keep working on my house. No monkey business, or she walks.” Trevor curled his lip and took another swig of beer. Women simply didn’t play fair, he determined in his irritation.
“Have you kept to the agreement?”
“More or less.”
“How has she reacted?”
He thought for a moment, and a smile replaced his scowl. “She hasn’t quit.” Then he remembered that afternoon. “Today may have done it, even if it wasn’t my fault.”
“I think you need to see how she really feels about those conditions. Women have been known to say one thing but mean another,” Logan informed him earnestly. “I think they have as much trouble surrendering to the inevitable as we do. Sometimes I think they’re testing us, not realizing that they hold all the power in this game.”
“I’ve tried making her mad, and that fell flat. I think I came off as a fractious juvenile trying to capture her attention.”
“Maybe you should challenge her instead of making her angry. I think that’s how your sister caught me.” With that cryptic comment, he signaled the waiter hovering near the bar. “I felt I had to prove she was wrong.”
“Challenge her.” Trevor considered the matter. By trying to make Jessie angry he’d pushed her too far, pressured her into striking back at him. A challenge would appeal to her sense of fair play. Did women understand that principle, or was it simply a masculine prerogative?
“That way she might even think she’s in control,” Logan added. “It becomes a matter of pride. Now, I think it’s time for some coffee, don’t you?”
“Sure, sure.” He was positive Logan was on to something. Pride was the key, something he understood all too well after the past few weeks. That old quote about pride teased the back of his mind. How much did Jessie’s pride have to do with her refusal to become involved with him? He remembered that day at lunch. She had become extremely regal, almost affronted, when he had said she didn’t have to be afraid to go out with him. Was her pride holding her other emotions in check?
“Hey, are you still with me?”
Trevor blinked and focused on the man across from him. “You know, it might not be so bad having a Yankee for a brother-in-law, after all.”
“Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves,” Logan cautioned, though a smile softened his angular features as he leaned back to allow the waiter to set down two mugs of coffee. “Jessie and Tory sound like they have a lot in common when it comes to stubbornness and pride.”
“But a man born and bred in Boston wouldn’t know anything about pride.” Trevor couldn’t resist the jab now that he was feeling more in control. He would give Jessie a few days to regroup, then he was going to begin chipping away at her defenses in earnest. The fascination that began the night he met her had turned to a hunger that needed to be satisfied.
“Would you like a souvenir program?” Wes had to raise his voice to be heard above the echoing voices of the people crowded into the marble-lined foyer of Robinson Auditorium.
Jessie started, turning toward the dark-haired man at her side and shaking her head at the request. Since yesterday afternoon she’d been jumping at shadows. Even a mild-mannered man like Wes could set her off. Or was it because she thought she saw Trevor in the crowd a few minutes ago? All day she’d been imagining him everywhere she looked. As usual, half the population of the city seemed to have turned out tonight, so the ma
n had disappeared into the crowd before she could be sure of his identity.
“Shall we go on in?” Wes solicitously offered her his arm and guided her up the marble stairs and into the theater.
She smiled absently at him, wondering why she didn’t find him more interesting. As they walked down the red-carpeted aisle toward the stage, she observed other couples around them. Wes didn’t suffer by comparison to the other men, so why did she find him dull? He was nice-looking, attentive, and had, a pleasant sense of humor. He wasn’t a bore like Connor MacMurray, but she didn’t feel any spark of interest when she was with him. She felt almost guilty as he courteously asked her her preference of their two seats, as if she might object to either seat in the center of the tenth row.
The same disinterest was true with Charles Pelinski, candidate number two as Gina called him. He had called her this morning about having dinner over the weekend. She hadn’t even bothered to make up an excuse, telling him as politely as possible that she didn’t think they really had that much in common. Was Gina right that she was being too particular about her list and needed to consider other candidates? Did Jessie have an unrealistic ideal? She squelched the traitorous little voice inside before another alternative could be considered.
“I hope I brought enough extra hankies, because I just know I’m going to sob through the entire second act,” a female voice insisted from close by. “This thing just gets sadder and sadder, and then they all die.”
“I can hardly wait, Arnette.”
Jessie stiffened in her seat, sure that her imagination was working overtime again. She didn’t want to look at the couple approaching her on the right. Hundreds of men in Little Rock had that same mellow voice, maybe even thousands. She held her playbill directly in front of her face, turning toward Wes for good measure.
“You always complain when you take me to the theater, and you know you enjoy it as much as I do,” the woman accused, moving closer with each syllable. “I know I caught you sniffling during the finale of Cats a few months ago.”
