"It's not that bad," Paige consoled, despite her own trying day. She was tired and overwhelmed and embarrassed. Her thoughts went back to yesterday, to the shameless way she'd all but begged Jack Mission to take her to bed, and heat crept up her neck. "There are worst things than a few overzealous women."
"Overzealous?" Wally pinned her with a stare as he dangled a pair of fuzzy handcuffs from one finger. "Try psychotic."
"You're definitely overreacting. You should be thanking me for beefing up your social life."
"With a bunch of women who only want one thing."
"Hot sex?"
"Hot sex and marriage."
"That's two things."
"Marriage includes hot sex."
"Not necessarily." Paige knew that all too well. She and Woodrow had barely qualified as lukewarm on the rare occasions when they'd been intimate. Hot had never figured in except when it came to the weather.
She wiped a trickle of sweat near her temple and shot a glare at the air conditioner churning out hot air in the corner.
"Did you call a repairman?"
"I did better than that. I gave Deb a piece of my mind for leaving us here with the air conditioner from hell when she called last night for her daily nagging session."
"You didn't?" At Wally's nod, she shook her head. "She's on her honeymoon, for heaven's sake. Cut the woman some slack. She shouldn't be worrying over things like this."
"This is her newspaper and her two ace reporters are on the verge of heat stroke. You want to go two more weeks until she finishes sunbathing in Aruba for some relief?" A sheepish expression came over his face. "Besides, I wasn't going to bother her, but she asked. And then when I said not to worry, she badgered. And then she started threatening jobs. And with this being the only newspaper m town and me being desperate for credit in my senior on-the-job training, I came clean." He blew out an exasperated breath and tossed the box into his bottom drawer. "She said not to worry. She'll take care of it today."
"How's she supposed to do that when she's all the way in Aruba?"
"You know Deb. When she gets something in her brain, she doesn't let loose until she's done it. She thinks it's her fault we're in hell, so she's taking care of it. And all I have to say is, I hope she does it quickly, otherwise I'm liable to spontaneously combust." Wally got up and pulled his shirt away from his sweat-slickened back.
"This is definitely the worst day of my life," he muttered as he headed down the back staircase. Paige could sympathize. She wasn't exactly having a stellar time herself. It had started at 6 a.m., when half a cup of stale cappuccino had leaked onto her favorite white blouse while she'd been doing her best to get her old Plymouth started. Then she'd locked her keys in the car when she'd gotten out to walk, stained blouse and all, to Moby's service station over six blocks away. She'd hitched a ride with Sally Crumb and her triplets, and wound up at Moby's with a dozen grape jelly handprints to go with the cappuccino. Then she'd gotten a parking ticket for leaving the Plymouth outside of City Hall in a No Parking section. At lunch, the deli had put a half jar of mayonnaise on her turkey sandwich when she'd explicitly ordered mustard. And she was running short on money.
And it was hot. And her hair was flat. And it was her wedding anniversary. Ex-anniversary, she reminded herself, blinking back a wave of tears. Not that she was crying over Woodrow and the fact that he was gone. That was the one good thing she had going right now. It was the principal of the thing. Today should have been one of her best days. In a perfect world, it would have been. She would have had her happily ever after. Her white knight. Her little house with a yard full of kids and a big dog named Shep.
Instead of marking another year invested in that happy ending, Paige was reminded of all the things that had gone wrong. Of all the things she'd done—
She forced the thought aside and busied herself pulling out the notes she'd taken while enduring the jelly covered hands of the Crumb triplets – she'd been stuck with Sally so she'd decided to profile the woman for this week's This Is Your Neighbor column. Might as well kill two armadillos with one slingshot, as her mama used to say.
"Today is what you make of it," she recited Dr. Vaughn's power mantra. She'd read Dr. Vaughn's book while she'd been holed up in bed with a quart of chocolate fudge ice cream and a box of chocolate covered cherries, mourning the loss of Woodrow the Dud and feeling like a total failure. That had been months ago, and since then, she'd put Dr. Vaughn's advice into practice. She'd stopped taking responsibility for the past and started planning for the future. "You have control. You make your own destiny. You—"
"I hate this damned machine!" Wally's voice floated up the staircase. "This press sucks. My life sucks. The Tom Triplets suck."
Wally definitely qualified as a major source of negative energy.
"There are worse problems than having three beautiful women hot for your body," she called after him.
"True enough, Uppity. A fella could have just one."
The deep voice slid over her nerve endings like hot fudge over her favorite ice cream. A ripple of pleasure went through her before she could draw in a breath and fight for her composure.
A losing battle, of course, with Jack Mission standing in the doorway, a grin on his face. He wore a T-shirt and jeans and a grin that did funny things to her heartbeat.
"I'm not hot for your body," she managed to say.
"You're trying to get into my pants. That says hot to me."
"I didn't try to get into your pants." At his knowing look, she drew in another breath. "Okay, in a manner of speaking, I did. But you said no so that's the end of it." She busied herself arranging the notes she'd put in order a few seconds ago. "What are you doing here?"
He held up a tool box. "I'm here to fix the air conditioner. Deb called and said you guys needed a hand."
* * *
Paige Cassidy wasn't running after him. At least not in the traditional sense. And he wasn't putting too much money on the non-traditional sense either, not after four days and not one single contact attempt. Maybe he had read her wrong. Maybe she really didn't like him.
His gaze zeroed in on her luscious chest, on her nipples beaded beneath the stained blouse and heat bolted through him. Her head might not like him, but her body was sure tuned in.
The realization sent a surge of pleasure through him. Not that he was acting on the feeling, mind you. With her frilly dresses and her apple pie attitude, she was still bad news and he was steering clear of her. No matter how many hate looks she directed his way.
"…over there," she was saying.
"What?"
"The air conditioner." She pointed to the far corner and the lifeless unit before she directed her gaze at the pile on her desk.
Jack went to work, all the while conscious of Paige's every movement and the fact that she wasn't having a good day. Papers rustled. The phone rang an endless amount of times, but the kicker didn't come until she spilled a diet coke on her desk.
She cursed and her eyes filled with tears, and the sight twisted a knife in his gut. He had an uncontrollable urge to do something, anything to wipe the look from her eyes.
To see her smile.
Crazy, he knew, but he found himself blurting out the word anyway. The word he never thought he'd say when he first heard her outrageous proposal.
"Okay."
Jack had always been weak when it came to a crying woman. It certainly had nothing to do with the fact that it was this crying woman. He was a sucker for tears, that was all. Besides, she'd already proven she didn't like him. And he was attracted to her. What was the harm in acting on that attraction and enjoying himself while he was stuck here looking after things for Jimmy. "Okay," he said again, louder this time.
She glanced up with watery eyes. "Okay, what?"
"I'll do it."
Paige stared at Jack Mission, her Post-It notes quickly forgotten as she tuned into his words. He was looking at her with those liquid gray eyes and her body was tingling in response.
"Do what?"
He couldn't mean… He wasn't saying… He…
His grin was slow and mesmerizing. His sensuous lips parted and a dimple cut into his left cheek. "It, darlin'." And then he turned and walked away.
And just like that, Paige Cassidy's worst day turned into one of the best of her life.
* * *
Okay.
The word echoed through Jack's mind and followed him down the back staircase of the In Touch. He wasn't a man to entertain second thoughts, but damned if he wasn't having a few at the moment. Paige Cassidy was too sweet and naive and she looked much too good wearing a flower print sundress.
Christ, he hated flower prints. He liked subtle and sexy and he certainly didn't go ga-ga over a woman in glasses. But damned if he didn't like the way those too large spectacles perched on her delicate nose.
It was pure biology, of course. He'd spent the past six weeks training a bitch of a horse for a rancher in New Mexico. He'd been a hundred miles from the nearest town, and probably two hundred from the nearest woman. Then he'd gotten Jimmy's call with the news about the wedding and he'd headed straight home. He needed a woman in the worst way, and it was that need making him think all kinds of crazy thoughts, like the fact that Paige Cassidy actually looked sexy with an ink smudge on her chin.
Yep, he was suffering from deprivation, all right. And a mild case of stupidity.
"There you go thinkin' you can slip off without an old man taking notice." The deep, gravelly voice drew his attention and killed any more speculation on his sanity.
Thankfully.
The less Jack had to think about his fierce and immediate reaction to Paige Cassidy, the better. Thinking always got him into trouble and he'd had enough of that over the past years.
Jack turned toward the old man standing in front of the grocery store next door.
Twenty years had done little to change Cecil McGraw. With snow white hair and enough wrinkles to qualify him for some kind of world record, he still looked as ancient as the oak tree that sat near Jack's mother's front window. Time had weighed down on the man and his shoulders hunched just a fraction more than they had back when Jack had been boxing groceries for him after school. Otherwise, he was still smiling his lopsided grin, still standing out front with his white apron and his red bow tie as he polished the day's supply of fresh apples.
Jack smiled. "If memory serves, I only snuck away once and that was because you kept me here late working when you knew Janie Sue Grimes was waiting for me to take her to the movies."
"I was trying to preserve your innocence. That girl was too wild for her own good."
"You were trying to keep me away from Janie because your nephew had the hots for her." Jack shook the old man's hand and grinned. "So how are Janie and Monroe doing? What is it now? Thirteen years of marital bliss?"
"And two hellion boys to show for it. Mac and Mike are going on eight and twelve respectively, and about as much trouble as you and your brother were when you were their ages. They work for me on Saturdays, though they usually hinder more than they help." He shot Jack a knowing look. "Like two other boys I used to know."
"You still haven't forgiven me and Jimmy for stomping those five crates of grapes, have you?"
"Those grapes were for the ladie's auxiliary. They were putting up preserves and you boys ruined them."
"We were trying to make wine."
"You made a mess, is what you made."
"And you made us work overtime to pay you back."
"I'd have gladly paid for them myself and just told your folks instead."
"No, thanks. We liked the overtime better."
"That's true enough, otherwise your daddy would have tanned your hides and made you work the overtime too."
At the mention of his father, Jack felt a pang of regret. James Mission had died of a heart attack a few years ago while out riding herd at the Mission spread. Jimmy had been in Houston with his construction business while Jack had been running cattle out in Arizona. The news had brought Jimmy home permanently to take care of things, while Jack had stayed long enough for the funeral. Then he'd packed up and headed out the way he always did.
The way he always would because that was the way of things. Jack was too restless to stay still for any length of time and he liked it that way. He liked not knowing what each new day would bring. Liked seeing new places. He liked it a lot.
Too damned much.
He pushed away the thought and picked up an apple and took a bite. "I see you're still selling the best produce in the county."
"And I see you're still eating up all my profits."
Jack grinned and fished in his pocket for a quarter, but Cecil waved him off. "I got a better idea," the old man told him. "I've got two more crates just like this one out back. You help me haul 'em up here, and we'll call it even."
"You've got a deal." Several minutes later, Jack hefted the second crate next to the first two and dusted his hands off.
"So what brings you to town? I thought you were looking after the ranch for Jimmy?"
"For a little while. I'm doing a favor for Deb. The air conditioner at the newspaper office is messed up."
"T'ain't messed up, boy. It's got the devil in her."
He remembered Paige's comment about the air conditioner being possessed and he smiled. "Actually, it's got a knock I can't get rid of, but at least it's working right now." His gaze strayed to the second floor window where he could see Paige Cassidy's profile. She blew out an exasperated breath and her hair ruffled. "So what do you know about her?"
"Well, she's got about the biggest dad-blamed mouth on a woman I ever had the misfortune to hear."
"Not Deb." He grinned. "I was talking about Paige Cassidy."
"Sweet little gal. A little shy."
Shy? Jack wondered what Cecil would think of sweet little Paige if he knew she was propositioning men for lust lessons.
Not just any man. You.
The knowledge sent a wave of heat through him that had nothing to do with the ninety plus September heat and everything to do with the woman whose scent still filled his nostrils. He inhaled and the faint smell of apples and cinnamon whispered through his senses.
"But then I cain't blame her none," Cecil was saying. "I'd be a mite quiet myself if I'd been through what she's been through."
"And what's that?"
"Got an ex-husband that's about as mean as a pit bull. She learned to tread softly early on and keep to herself, least that's what Myrtle Connelly over at the Piggly Wiggly says, and she ought to know."
Amen to that. There were two things that the good people of Inspiration could count on – winning the high school state football championship and Myrtle Connelly. She knew everything about everybody.
"Moved here to get away from him," Cecil went on. "He gave her an awful time. But now she's settled. Hey, know what else Myrtle has been saying?" Cecil asked him, a sly look in his eyes.
"I don't think I want to hear this."
"That you've been off in the big city stripping off your clothes for money."
"What?"
"Taking your clothes off, shaking your rump, doing the bump and grind—"
"I know what stripping is. Where would she get a ridiculous notion like that?"
"Beats me. All's I know is, Myrtle's got a twenty year accuracy streak and that's an awful good-looking motorcycle you rode into town on. Probably cost a pretty penny. Or maybe I should say, quite a few dollar bills."
"More like several broken bones. I trained a devil of a horse who kicked more than she listened." Jack took the last bite and pitched the apple core into a nearby trash bin. "Speaking of which, Jimmy's got a horse that's about to foal. I need to be getting back to work."
Cecil wagged his eyebrows. "Don't work too hard. You'll want to settle down someday and have a family, and all that shakin' and shimmyin' cain't be good for a man's equipment."
"You're funny. You ever think of doing stand-up instead of the grocery store thin
g?"
"As a matter of fact, you can catch me over at the lodge the third Saturday of every month. So why are you so interested in Paige? You thinkin' to court her?"
"Hardly." That was why accepting Paige's proposition was such a good idea. She didn't expect him to court her or get down on one knee. Paige wasn't looking for love or marriage or forever. Thankfully, because Jack had given up on those things a long time ago.
But right now… He believed in now, in living for the moment and making every second count. Starting tonight.
* * *
Chapter 4
«^»
"You're here," Paige blurted the second she opened the door to find Jack Mission standing on her doorstep.
It wasn't so much the fact that he was standing right in front of her, looking so tall and good-looking in a black Harley T-shirt and matching jeans. It was the fact that he was standing right in front of her, looking so tall and good-looking, while she looked nothing short of frightening in an oversized T-shirt and faded exercise shorts, her hair a damp, lifeless mess. "You're not supposed to be here."
His grin was slow and intoxicating. "True enough," he drawled in a deep, rich voice that melted her faster than her favorite caramel sauce melted a double scoop of Oreo Cookie Dough ice cream. "I'm supposed to be there." He motioned past her toward the living room and winked. "I will be just as soon as you invite me in."
The comment brought to mind a dozen or so images that had haunted her ever since he'd given her his decision. Visions of Jack, dark and naked against her daisy print sheets. Jack poised over her. Jack grinning down at her. Jack kissing her. Jack touching her… Jack.
"Sugar? You all right?"
"Yes. I mean, no. I mean…" She swallowed and shifted behind the door, away from his eyes – grayer than gray eyes that looked her up and down and every spot in between. "I wasn't expecting you."
"I said I'd do it this afternoon."
"But you didn't say when you'd do it."
RESTLESS Page 4
