by Alison Kent
The top drawer held hundreds of spools of thread and in her state of klutziness and nerves and hormonal melancholy, she nearly toppled the contents to the floor.
Especially when she sensed Jace move to the window behind her. Eyes closed, she took a small backward step in his direction, close enough to indulge herself in the warmth of his bare skin, the scent of naked man, and the subtle need to be near another human being.
It was crazy, this weakness shifting through her. Crazy. Insane. A gut awareness she hadn’t counted on. She’d never expected to come up against a man who’d make her want this way again.
Be honest, Eden. A man who makes you want in a way you’ve never wanted before.
“How far away is the rain?” she asked, hating the way her voice shook.
“Storm’s coming from the west. It won’t hit for another hour.”
His voice wrapped around her, safety and security rolled up into one. The intensity of her desire deepened. Oh, God, she didn’t need this. Taking a deep breath, she slammed the thread drawer in punctuation.
“Great. Give me ten minutes and you’re on your way.” Ten minutes was no time. Her mood would probably swing again in the next five. She grabbed her glasses from her sewing basket and settled into the chair. “There’s hot tea and more cinnamon rolls in the kitchen if you’d like to wait in there,” she offered, hoping he’d accept.
“No, thanks.” The window seat cushion rustled beneath his weight. “I like this room.”
Rust-colored thread aimed through the eye of the needle, Eden adjusted the machine’s tension and reached for her pincushion. “It’s my favorite room in the house.” She aligned the edges of the shirt seam. “Well, besides the bathroom. The claw-foot tub upstairs is big enough to swim in.”
“There was a room with a window seat like this in the house I grew up in. It was supposed to be a formal sort of living area, but nothing about my family was formal. My sister and I had a lot of friends, and the room ended up being a hangout.”
Eden heard the latch click then heard Jace push up the window. The old wood frame creaked and groaned in protest.
“Problem was, my mother tossed so many pillows onto the window seat that no one could sit there. We ended up sprawled everywhere else, though. Sofa, chairs, floor, coffee table,” he said with a laugh.
“Sounds like my kind of room. And my kind of family,” Eden ventured, wondering more than she should have—and for no logical reason—about what Jace had been like as a child. If he saw his family often.
And why he’d traded a life teeming with friends for the one he lived alone. “Do you miss that? Having friends around all the time?”
Silence filled the room. Leaves whispered and swished against the window screen. Tires rolled over the joints in the road, a synchronized click to the tick of a clock. The window seat groaned beneath Jace’s shifting weight. And Eden waited.
“Yeah. I do,” he finally said, but he said no more, and his tone left no room for questions.
As curious as she was, Eden knew when to leave well enough alone. She’d pry again another time. Flipping off the machine, she stashed her glasses back in her sewing basket. “Let’s see if this is going to hold,” she said, then made the mistake of looking his way.
Jace lounged like a man who made a living at it. His moccasin-clad feet, crossed at the ankles, extended a foot off the seat. His legs filled his jeans with symmetrical perfection. A braided belt of leather and turquoise circled his waist.
The thumbs he’d hooked through his belt loops tugged at his waistband, drawing her gaze to the whorl of hair growing low on his belly. And to his zipper, and the pure male magic outlined beneath.
She caught her breath.
He turned his head. His glance snagged hers and pulled.
A gust of breeze kicked the clouds across the sky and sunlight bathed the room. Jace rolled to his feet, and Eden’s gaze searched out what she couldn’t get enough of. Corded muscle and skin kissed copper by the sun. The breadth of his chest amazed her, especially as his belly below was sleek and spare. His build was that of a hard-working man.
Soft spring breezes brought wisteria, jasmine, and honeysuckle inside. Jace’s hair ruffled at his neck. His scent reached her, too. She drowned in the smells and accepted the truth. The man in Jace beckoned the woman in her.
“Here.” She handed him the shirt.
“Thanks.” He took it from her and pulled it on.
She clenched her hands. The need to touch him sizzled in the tips of her fingers, screamed in the hollow of her heart. His hair caught in the neckline of the tunic. Desire won out over reason. She reached up to free the strands.
Black satin slid over her fingers. The stubble on his jaw grazed her wrist. She touched his cheek, ignoring the sirens in her mind. Wrong or right, this connection mattered more than her next breath.
Jace’s eyes grew sleepy, seductive. He mirrored her action, his palm rough against her cheek. So easy. So natural. So simple to move the one short step into his arms.
Thunder rumbled low. The sky darkened, breaking the spell. As much as she longed to do otherwise, she moved back. “Sounds like your hour’s been cut short.”
Jace seemed indecisive, hesitant even, like what had just passed between them had confused him as much as it had her. Like he couldn’t put a name to the thick tension in the room without calling it what neither of them wanted: involvement, attraction, the beginning of attachment.
Lightning flashed. Jace blinked, stepped back. “We’d better get going. Water-damaged furniture isn’t likely to bring the price I have hanging on those pieces.”
If they were going now, she needed to get dressed. She headed for the stairs. “What pieces are you delivering today?”
“I’ve got a Shaker table and six chairs. Plus the cradle.”
Eden stopped on the first step. The cradle? He was selling the cradle? Of course, he was selling the cradle. This was business, after all. Still, she didn’t think she could bear to see that particular piece sold. Why, she couldn’t say. But since when did hormones think with logic?
Turning, she pressed her fists against the small of her back. “On second thought, Jace, I don’t think I’m up to the trip. Maybe you could stop by and pick up my order?”
He frowned. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Let me get the list.” They walked into the shop. Eden grabbed the slip of paper and handed it to Jace. “Marian can double check the items, but she should have them ready. You don’t have to stop by on your way back. Just bring them over tomorrow.” She pulled open the front door but didn’t step out.
“If you’re sure...”
She nodded.
“Okay. Thanks.” Jace jogged to his truck, climbed into the cab and was off with a wave. Eden gripped the door. She watched the Ford as it turned from Main onto Highway 37. Then she went back inside to spend the rest of her day feeling sorry for herself.
It was definitely an eat-a-worm day.
Chapter Nine
THURSDAY AFTERNOON Eden jerked awake so abruptly that the brass headboard jarred the wall behind it.
After rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she closed the portfolio spread across her lap, then searched for her glasses, finding them wedged between two pillows beneath her sketch pad.
Benjamin woke seconds later and prodded his sister into action. Bethany complied with enthusiasm, planting a tiny foot into Eden’s side.
Surprised to find her entire family on the same schedule, she scooted off the bed and into her shoes, yawned, and stretched.
She should’ve thought to set her alarm, though she’d yet to need one since her afternoon naps weren’t as much about sleep as about appeasing Molly.
And Molly always called from the bottom of the stairs once she heard Eden moving around.
Of course, Molly had no way of knowing that Eden timed her naps, spending the hour a day propped up in bed, spreadsheets open on her laptop, fashion catalogs across her lap.
Today w
as a costly exception.
Though she felt rested enough to make it through this evening’s monthly town meeting, making up the lost work time later tonight would definitely foul up tomorrow.
After a quick stop in the bathroom to repair her mussed hair, she headed for the stairs, noting the lateness of the hour from the angle of sunlight slanted across the hallway.
It was way past closing time. She’d obviously been pushing herself harder than pregnancy allowed if she could so easily sleep the afternoon away.
Stepping off the bottom stair, she walked into the shop. Instead of Molly at her post, Eden found Jace sitting on the stool behind the register.
No, not sitting. Sleeping—his chin balanced in his palm, his elbow parked on the counter, his head braced sideways against the wall.
She first wished for a camera, then suppressed a grudging envy for his ability to sleep through anything. Her third thought brought a frown.
With Jace sleeping through anything, and Molly nowhere in sight, who was minding the store?
Tiptoeing her way to the front door, Eden noticed the sign in the window turned to CLOSED. For a brief second, she wondered what time Molly had left and if the sign had turned away any business. Oh well. Spilled milk and all...
The thought of milk had her stomach grumbling, and now she was in for a late supper. She needed to get moving or she’d miss the town meeting.
Before she could leave, however, she had to wake her carpenter.
Her carpenter. Eden smiled at Chloe’s epithet, which had stuck. Ink-black lashes cast shadows on his cheeks. A sprinkling of sawdust powdered his hair and sifted over his T-shirt like glitter on velvet.
He looked... endearing, little-boy cute and like he hadn’t a care in the world. She wanted to wrap him in a soft woven throw, tuck him securely in a comfy feather bed, and curl up at his side.
A swift kick from Benjamin snapped her from dangerous fantasy back to the present. Anyone who could sleep through anything, not to mention make her ache to snuggle when she had a life and a business to get on track, deserved to be awakened with a dirge of music.
She pulled the front door open on a prayer. Nothing. She eased it inward another two inches. Nothing. Her gaze still on Jace, she scooted the door back a good foot and a half. That should do the trick.
Instead of the clatter and clank she’d grown to dread, however, the sweet strains of a lullaby floated on the air, the simple notes few and delicate, but oh so sweet. Suddenly and disgustingly misty-eyed, she closed her eyes and listened.
“I found that in one of the shops in Farmersville. Thought you might like it better.” Jace’s voice, husky with sleep, drifted across the room.
He scooted away from the counter, the stool legs scraping tracks across the floor, his boots thudding hard in that determined step she’d grown accustomed to hearing when he worked in her house.
Eden blinked and closed the door. She wanted to ask so many things—why he’d been thinking of her? what did he think of her? did he think of her often?—but none of those questions came.
It seemed the more time she spent around Jace, the more often she tripped over her tongue. She was a strong and independent businesswoman and he reduced her to a blubbering fool.
Taking a shaky breath, she leaned her forehead against the sturdy support of the wooden door. It was a good thing she was having her children all at one time. She didn’t think she could go through the emotional upheaval of pregnancy again. Content one minute. Teary the next.
And of course, that’s where these rubber-band emotions came from. Her mood swings were all about pregnancy and not about Jace at all.
She took a deep breath. “The chime is wonderful. And I love it.”
“Good. I’m glad.”
His voice came low and deep from behind her. She suppressed a shiver of... what? Fear? Attraction? Desire? No. It was hormones. Nothing more. She turned, determined once and for all to climb out of this emotional pit.
“Buying gifts is not part of our contract, you know. Neither are the errands you run for me. Or the lunches you bring me. Or the way you helped Chloe with her art project.” She arched a brow. “Okay, Jace. What’re you after?”
He crossed both arms and fought a grin. “You think I’m after something?”
She moved a step away and gave him a sidelong glance. “Maybe. I think so. Are you?”
This time he laughed. “Just working to put another line on my resume.”
“Right.” She rolled her eyes, pulled aside the lace curtain on the windowed front door and looked out. “Like J. B. Morgan needs another line on his resume.”
“I don’t use J.B.’s resume.”
His tone was so serious that she let the curtain fall and gave him her full attention instead. “Why not?”
Jace glanced away, down at the floor, and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Let’s just say I’m not too fond of J. B.’s business practices.”
Interesting, Eden thought and narrowed a teasing eye. “Is this a Jekyll-and-Hyde thing?”
A trace of humor flickered through his eyes. He stepped closer, bringing with him the scent of dark nights, campfires, and stars. The fit of his body she remembered from the day in his shed. The quick glance he gave her burned to her toes, and she knew he remembered, too. She held her breath as he leaned nearer to peer out the window at her side.
“Depends on what you’re feeding me tonight,” he said and smiled.
Eden glared. “I may have to hurt you for that.”
“Promise?”
His profile was so temptingly close and her fingertips ached to touch him. Eden stepped away. “I think it would be a good idea if we kept this business.”
Jace glanced at the sawdust on his shirt, inclined his head toward the tools on the floor, looked back at Eden. “This isn’t business?”
Moving to sit on the sill of the bay window, Eden sighed. “You’re right. It is. And until I get The Fig Leaf established, business is all I have time for.”
“No time to stop and smell the roses?”
She shook her head. “I have a great olfactory memory, though. That’ll have to do me for a while. For now, it’s full steam ahead.”
“And you don’t think the rest of your life suffers? When you push yourself like that?”
It hadn’t before. But everything about her life now was so new that she gave him the only answer she could. “I don’t let it suffer.”
“That’s a hell of a tall order,” Jace finally replied.
“I think of it more as an affirmation.” She laughed quietly. “Maybe when I’ve been my own boss as long as you have, I’ll say it and mean it.”
Jace sent a lingering glance out the window over Eden’s head and rubbed at the back of his neck. “I haven’t been my own boss that long.”
“Just long enough to have a second resume. Which is more than I have, and exactly what I need.”
“And so you push.”
She rose to pace the floor. “You know as well as I do that some of the businesses on these streets are nothing but toys to the owners. I can’t afford to play. I can’t even afford to break even. I’ve got to make a profit.”
“It takes time to get up and running.”
“I don’t have time.” Anxiety filtered into her voice, and into the steps that took her from one side of the room to the other. “My babies’ futures depend on whether or not I can make a go of this store this year. If it doesn’t look like it’s going to happen”—or if it didn’t look like the life she wanted to live—”then it’s back to the old resume and New York.”
Jace stepped in her path.
Eden looked up. “What?”
“Babies? As in more than one?”
She nodded. “Twins. Haven’t I told you?”
He shook his head, his mouth twitched and then his smile widened. “Two babies? On your own? You are a brave woman, Eden Karr.”
She wasn’t about to tell him how frightened she was. She wasn’t even sure sh
e was ready to admit that to herself. Or to add to her list of uncertainties. “Courage doesn’t have a lot to do with it. These just happen to be the cards I’ve drawn.”
His gaze traveled from her gently rounded belly to her eyes. His twinkled when he said, “I’d say you’re holding a full house.”
Eden refrained from shaking her head. “A stand- up carpenter. I’m so impressed.” She leaned back against the frame of the screen door. “Molly’s already appointed herself surrogate grandmother. And as handy as you are, I’m sure a surrogate carpenter might be nice to have around.”
“I get by with a little help from my friends?”
“You are just a fount of cleverness today. But, yes. Something like that.”
A change came over Jace. It wasn’t an obvious switch in mood, like the ones plaguing her these days. No, this was a subtle shift, more body language than anything. A withdrawal that she hadn’t expected.
“I’d like to help, Eden. I really would. But I think you’ve got the right idea about keeping this relationship business.” Almost as if his body ignored the very words he was speaking, he moved forward, slowly, into her space.
His boots gave him two added inches of height. His black T-shirt barely accommodated his shoulders; his black hair was a sleep-mussed mane. And when he reached up and stroked a palm over her hair, Eden’s heart lurched in response.
“I don’t make a very reliable friend. I think you should know that.” He reached behind her and fumbled for the doorknob. Electric air crackled between them. He waited, for a long minute he waited. Then, without another word, he stepped around her and strode outside.
Eden spilled a long rush of breath and watched him leave, realizing once he’d gone—and once she’d regained her solid footing which had slipped away at his touch—that he’d done it again. Brought up questions she wanted answers to and left her hanging on a curious hook.
Why had he replaced the chime? Why was a man with his credentials living in a barn in an open pasture? Why would J. B. Morgan refuse to use J. B. Morgan’s resume?
