by Lori Foster
Jack quickly rolled down the window. “Charlotte?”
“Hate to interrupt,” she said, her teeth chattering against the chill, her blue eyes soft and teasing. “I waited, but since it didn’t seem like you were heading in anytime soon... I thought you should know your basement is flooding.”
CHAPTER FOUR
THE INTERRUPTION THREE days ago had been a blessing. At least, that’s how Ronnie chose to see it. She’d been about to buy into Jack’s sales pitch, ready to do the nasty with him right there in the cramped space of his front seat, which, on the face of it, would have been fine.
Sex with Jack? Count her in.
Except that he hadn’t yet turned down the job. And she didn’t do long-term stuff. The job, maybe, since she’d been there a year now. But anything else? Dates? Romance? Family?
No, no, and no.
She’d learned the hard way that one-night stands, very temporary pleasure, and fleeting involvement served her better than trying to make something last. Dates? Why bother when she could eat wherever she wanted, see any movie she wanted, when she enjoyed her own company just fine—and one-night stands were never hard to come by when the mood struck her? The cold, detached, lonely arrangement worked for her, had been working for her since... Well, she didn’t want to think about that, so instead she focused on the other thing she no longer did.
Family.
Hers had denounced her long ago, and since multiple attempts to reconnect hadn’t worked, she’d decided good riddance. She didn’t need them. She’d proven that in a dozen different, painful, hard-won ways. She’d learned her lessons, thank you very much.
Class was over.
Now, though, as she prepared to meet Jack for another pickup, her thoughts raced. She’d been in a funk since leaving his house that night, but as far as she was concerned, pretty little Charlotte’s propitious timing had saved her from making a grave tactical error.
Jack had raced into his house to fix the flooding problem, Charlotte had taken his car to drive Ronnie back to her car, and she’d been left with the task of telling the brothers their meeting was rescheduled. One second she’d been melting under Jack’s compliments, and the next he’d sent her away with a complete stranger.
He could have invited her in to help—not that she wanted in his house.
He could have asked her to wait while he sorted out the problem—but she probably would have come to her senses in the interim.
He could have...what? Acted half as caught up in the moment as she’d been? Clearly he hadn’t felt the same, and that, for sure, was a problem.
Damn it, she knew better than to give anyone the upper hand. Down that road lived nothing but heartache.
So the next morning when Jack had called, then texted, she’d ignored him. The days had passed and she’d be ignoring him still if she could—but duty called.
Hoping he’d refuse, she’d texted Jack a brief message last night, stating the particulars for a pickup in Lexington and that they’d have to leave by 10:00 a.m. Fifteen minutes had passed before he texted back, Count me in.
So far, nothing with him was easy. Par for...her life.
Ronnie stared into the mirror over the hotel room dresser as she threaded a third earring into her ear. To match her mood, she wore all black. Black jeans, black boots, another black top, this one a three-button thermal Henley. Her makeup was equally austere, but to keep busy, she’d done a little more styling with her hair. She’d have to remember to keep her restless fingers out of it today.
Stepping back, she reached for the contents on the dresser—and a knock sounded on her door. Wariness narrowed her eyes as she glanced at the clock. She had a few minutes yet before she needed to leave to meet Jack. It was too early for housekeeping, and besides, they knew not to enter when she was away. She didn’t let anyone alone with her belongings.
She reached for her purse. “Who is it?”
“It’s me. Open up.”
Her jaw loosened, then her feet shot into action, carrying her angrily across the floor. At the last second she paused, put one eye to the peephole, and after verifying that it was, in fact, Jack, she jerked open the door. “What the hell do you think you’re—?”
Leaning in, he captured her open mouth in a soft, quick kiss, and then ducked her swing when she automatically tried to slug him.
“Whoa.” Laughing, he held up both hands in the universal sign of submission. “Sorry, but I missed you.”
How could she maintain her new resolve for no hanky-panky when he led with his lips? That brief kiss left her mouth tingling and her thoughts scattered. He stood there looking so damn good in another button-down shirt and brown slacks, his expression comically submissive.
As if.
“Ass,” she growled. She looked up and down the hallway to ensure no one had seen him, then hauled him inside and began securing the door. “Don’t think you can just—”
As she turned, he kissed her again, and this time he pressed her back to the closed door and pinned down her hands. “Missed.” He turned his head for a deeper fit, giving her one small taste of his tongue. “You.”
Yup, that melted her bones and her resistance.
He breathed against her ear, “I just wanted you to know.” Then he stepped back, leaving her there, limp, confused.
Hands in his pockets, casual as you please, he glanced around her rented room.
An unsteady but deep breath helped a little. Pushing away from the door, Ronnie said, “You shouldn’t be here. I made it clear that I’d meet you at your office.”
“Honestly,” he said, eyeing what she had on her dresser, “I didn’t trust you to show. Not after you refused to answer my calls or texts.”
“I was busy.” Busy being butt-hurt, but whatever. He didn’t need to know that part. She took the file with her notes and put them carefully into the big pocket lining her purse, then snatched up her keys and dropped them in, too. Lifting the wicked blade that held most of Jack’s attention, she sat on the foot of the bed and, pulling up the leg of her jeans, fit it into the sheath inside her boot.
Since she wasn’t looking at him, she felt more than saw Jack’s curiosity. Would he question her, say something dumb about her weapons of choice?
“That’s dangerous.”
Yup, very dumb. His attitude should throw some ice on the fire he’d started. “I know how to use it,” she assured him, pleased with the steadiness of her voice.
“I meant you on a bed.” He leaned back on the dresser. “In a hotel room.”
Her gaze shot to his. The fire blazed to an inferno.
Dark eyes both teasing and hot, he smiled. “Especially when I’m already half hard and you aren’t exactly saying no.”
“No!” Saying it as much to herself as to him, she jumped to her feet and grabbed up a sweatshirt. The storms were over and only fluffy white clouds dotted the sky, but she no longer trusted the weather. And because she didn’t really trust herself either, she reiterated firmly, “Not unless you refuse the job.” She went to the door and opened it, giving him an expectant look to let him know it was time to go. Past time.
Still smiling, Jack came forward. “You know, I’m confident that I can win you over and keep the job.”
“You can’t.” Could he? No, she wouldn’t let him.
He said nothing else as they left the ancient building via two flights of stairs, nothing as they stepped out into the bright sunshine and crisp, dew-rich morning air.
Nothing when he walked her to his car, parked at the curb, or when he needlessly opened the passenger door for her—and quietly accepted her eye roll—before strolling around to the driver’s side.
Once they were on the road, though, he said, “I like your hair.”
Self-consciously, she reached for it but dropped her hand before she made contact with the thick, unruly locks.
“It’s easy,” she said, by way of a thank-you.
“I like your style overall.” He glanced at her, then away. “The earrings, the makeup, the tight jeans.”
In case he thought otherwise, she explained, “It’s who I am, and it’s not for your benefit.”
“I appreciate it all the same.” He pulled up to a stop sign on the main road out of town. “I’ve been extremely distracted since I left you the other day.”
Jerk, she accused in her brain, but refrained from saying it out loud. “No problem. You had something more important to deal with.”
He denied that as he waited for a few people to cross the road. Seemed Red Oak, Ohio, woke up early. “Not more important, Ronnie. Don’t think that. But damage was being done—”
“Hey, I get it,” she cut in, not wanting to hear his half-baked explanations. And not wanting to risk buying into them. She had to protect herself, because no one else would. So she shrugged it off and said, “You barely know me. Fending off home repairs definitely ranks above a casual hookup.”
“I hadn’t planned it to be all that casual.”
Stop, she told her thumping, stupidly hopeful heart. “Yeah, well, too bad because all I do is casual.” She had to drive the point home. It was too important for him to misconstrue. “One and done, that’s my motto.” Though the words sounded flippant, they were now her life—out of necessity.
Pretending she hadn’t said that, he explained, “I’ve been remodeling the house for a while now. I haven’t done much to the basement yet, but stuff is stored down there, stuff I’ll use in the different rooms once they’re finished. If it got ruined, I’d be stuck replacing it.”
“No problem.” She really did understand. Jack was busy nesting, while she’d continue to roam. He had it together, and she...probably never would. “It’s better that we got interrupted since I don’t plan to—”
“Mrs. Gershlick would disagree.”
“Mrs. Gersh-who?”
He laughed. “She’s a local who runs a dog rescue, and once a month she finds forever homes for as many of the dogs as she can. We, Mustang Transport, do free delivery for her when the owners aren’t close enough to come get the pets themselves. I had this little schnauzer I had to take to Columbus yesterday. Mrs. Gershlick had to give me the address three times, because my mind kept wandering.”
Ronnie closed her eyes and clenched her teeth, but there it was, forever branded into her brain.
He delivered homeless dogs. For free.
Goddammit, why did he have to be so freaking awesome in so many ways? Why couldn’t he be a supreme dick or a sexist ass or...or at least not so good-looking?
Trying for derision but mostly sounding snotty, she waved a finger and growled, “We need to plop a friggin’ halo on your head, don’t we?”
His voice lowered. “If you knew all the things I thought about doing to you during the drive, even while the dog continued yapping, you’d know it wasn’t a halo I deserved.”
Diabolical, that’s what he was!
She was already using every ounce of internal fortitude she had to resist him. Over and over she reminded herself that it would be a colossally bad idea to get involved with anyone.
And he went and said that.
Now she was thinking things, and she’d be willing to bet her thoughts were even hotter than his.
This should have been easy—but then again, when was anything easy for her? Out of pure frustration, she had to give it one try.
She pinned him with a look. “Whatever you thought about, we can do it. Deny the job and it’ll happen tonight. Right now if you want.” He could pull over to the side of the road on one of the treed, quiet sections, and they could get started right away.
And then she could get the hell away from him and the risk he posed to her emotional refuge.
“Here’s the thing,” he said, his tone too careful, too modulated. “I want more than one night.” When she started to speak, he interrupted, “I’m not asking you to marry me, Ronnie, so relax.”
Her eyes flared wide, that M word literally freezing all the air in her lungs. How dare he say such a thing? Like she’d even think about that level of commitment? No one had ever asked her...to do that, and she was pretty damned sure no one ever would.
Because she wouldn’t allow it.
“Not asking you to move in either, or even be exclusive,” he continued, as if he hadn’t just gone off the deep end of extreme. “But we’ll be working together—”
“Not if I can help—” she tried to protest, but again, he spoke over her.
“—and there’s so much chemistry between us, we’ll both combust if we don’t give in. I’m on the verge already.” He glanced at her. “You?”
Yes. God, yes. She had a feeling that if she loosened her shirt or unzipped her jeans, steam would escape.
Looking at him wasn’t helping, so she turned her attention to the window, sightlessly staring out at the passing landscape and clenching her hands. Her silver rings bit into her fingers, and she realized what she was doing: showing too much reaction. By small degrees, she composed herself, loosening her fingers, relaxing her shoulders.
Emotions were weapons that could be used against her.
“Why you?” she asked, hoping her tone was as polite and casual as his had been. “You’re a damned stuffed shirt and all spiffy style and I’m...not.” She’d always been the opposite of that, a direct contrast to him. A direct contrast to her entire family. “We have nothing in common.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. We both like your hair.”
How did he think that counted?
“And we both like this job.”
She’d prefer that he didn’t.
“We both carry knives.”
She...what? Pivoting fast, Ronnie gaped at him. “Is that a joke?”
Appearing pleased that he’d finally regained her attention, he said, “No.”
Against her will, her gaze tracked all over him. She’d learned the art of searching for weapons, noticing any telltale lumps under clothing, any obvious straps, holsters, or sheaths. On Jack, she saw no evidence of a knife anywhere on his person. “You’re hiding it well.”
“Same place as you, actually—which I guess counts for another thing we have in common.” Reaching down, he lifted one pant leg to show a low-profile black sheath strapped just above the top of his sock.
Momentarily distracted, Ronnie lifted her brows in admiration of the weapon. “Nice. It’s completely concealed.”
“The skeletal frame is flat. Makes it easier to hide. The wrap sheath fits in a pocket or hooks on my belt. I prefer my ankle, though.”
Skeletal meaning the handle was basically an outline made of steel, but she noticed it had a rubber coating, making the grip more secure. “You any good at throwing it?”
“Decent. You?”
“I’m good,” she said without modesty. And at least with this topic, she was at ease. “Odds are if I need my knife, I’m up against someone who could physically overpower me, so getting close wouldn’t be smart. If a gunshot is too noisy, or a gun is too noticeable, a knife makes more sense.”
As if troubled by that idea, the muscles of his jaw tightened, but his tone remained neutral when he asked, “Have you ever stabbed anyone?”
With a flinch she hoped she hid, Ronnie shook her head. “No.” Thank God. But she’d done worse, and now, if she needed to, she definitely could use her knife and that’s what mattered.
Carefully, with deliberate negligence, Jack suggested, “Maybe you can come by my house again and show me your technique?”
She shot him a narrow-eyed look, just in case he wasn’t talking about knives.
“I have a few targets, a big private yard, and I could use the practice.”
Crazy, but knife-throwing with him sounded almost as m
uch fun as the horizontal boogie. Yet she was nothing if not stubborn, so she said, “If you quit, we’ll go our separate ways. I won’t be around town anymore.”
Keeping his expression and tone neutral, he said, “Good thing I have no intention of giving up the job then, right?”
Lord, was that relief she felt? Was she really that hungry to find common ground with someone? Anyone? How pathetic would that be? How desperate?
She refused to accept it.
“I’ll still see you less often, since I won’t stay in the hotel much longer. My visit there was just for convenience. I only live forty-five minutes away and I’ll be returning home soon.” Home to her small, empty apartment...with loads of security and more anonymity than she could find in a town this size.
“So we’re both homebodies, too. Another trait we share.”
Since talk of home was a touchy subject, she said with renewed resolution, “You know what? Let’s talk about all the things we don’t have in common. How about that?”
“Such as?” He drove out of town, heading toward the interstate on-ramps. “Besides the style differences you’ve already driven into the ground.”
Driven into the ground? “Facts can’t be overstated. You’re a fancy-pants and I’m a—”
“A what? Powder keg of attitude in a small, sexy package?” He smiled at his own analogy. “A woman who knows what she likes and goes after it?”
Everything he said held errant admiration, making her feel guilty for the name-calling. She didn’t know how to reply. For her, compliments were few and far between and she remained uncomfortable with them. Insults she could deal with. This nonsense from him...not so much. “What about family? You’re obviously a family guy.”
A strange expression fell over his profile. “My brother and I are close. You probably already picked up on that. And you met Charlotte.”
The woman who’d driven her home? “Yeah, I met her.” She wasn’t sure what else to say about that. Charlotte had looked sweet and kind and Ronnie had been pretty damned surly.
