“You’re no fun,” Sandy complained.
“Thank you,” Jess said primly. “Now about the decorating …”
She explained what she wanted Sandy to do, and they discussed specific possibilities. The longer they talked, the better Jess felt. Sandy, she knew, had excellent taste. Sometimes, Jess thought, the best person for the job was an amateur.
“One question,” Sandy said, while eyeing Jess’s grubby sweatsuit jacket. “Do I have to dress like you?”
Jess laughed. “No, but be sensible, Sandy. It is a construction site.”
Sandy nodded.
Jess’s amusement subsided, and she glanced away for a moment. “I want to apologize for the other night.…”
“Forget it,” Sandy said, smiling. “Anyway, it was Marty who opened his idiotic mouth.”
“No,” Jess said firmly. “It—it was me. You know why.”
“Jess, when are you going to accept that you really are normal?” Sandy asked, then sighed. “Forget I said that. I’m your friend, and I understand your quirks. Heaven knows, you’ve been understanding of mine. But Nick is getting to you, isn’t he?”
“Maybe. I don’t know.”
“That’s good enough,” Sandy said cryptically. “Stay to dinner?”
Jess shook her head. “Thank you, but no. I need a shower and clean clothes more than I need a good meal.”
“It’s your loss. Reva made Stroganoff.”
“Save me some.” Sandy’s housekeeper was the best cook Jess had ever come across. It was no wonder that Sandy and Marty were always moaning about having to diet.
When she finally arrived home, Jess headed straight for the shower. Afterward, as she cooked eggs and bacon for dinner, she wistfully thought of the Stroganoff.
“This is pathetic,” she said to herself, gazing at her meager meal.
The doorbell rang, and she turned off the flame under the frying pan before going to answer it.
Nick stood on her porch.
“You’re not dressed for dinner yet?” he asked as he walked into the house.
“What dinner?” she asked, absently accepting the bouquet of flowers he handed her.
“Our dinner. Together. Surely, I mentioned that today.” He sniffed. “Ah, we’re eating in. Great!”
“Nick, you did not mention dinner,” she said tartly, “and you know it.”
“Well, you refused dinner last night, so I figured tonight was good. Besides, how are we going to get anywhere if you refuse to see me?”
“I didn’t refuse to see you! I just spent Saturday and Sunday with you, and I need to catch up on things here.”
“Good girl,” he said approvingly, shutting the door. “Now we can spend every evening this week together. What’s for dinner?”
She sighed. “Bacon and eggs.”
“That’s breakfast.” He kissed her soundly on the mouth. “Making breakfast the night before has definite possibilities. Saves time in the morning for other things. I do like your style, Jess. In the meantime, since I’ve invited myself to dinner, I’ll cook.”
“Can you cook?” she asked, curious.
He put his arm around her shoulders and escorted
her to the bottom of the stairs. “Yes, Virginia, there is a cook. You go up and put some clothes on. Here, I’ll put those in water.”
He took the flowers and left her standing there. Jess stared after him as he strolled toward the kitchen, whistling tunelessly. He shed his jacket and pushed up the sleeves of his sweater, clearly making himself at home. Protests pushed at her, yet she couldn’t utter one. She admitted that she wanted him with her.
Smiling to herself, she climbed the stairs.
It took four changes of pants, five of sweaters, and three of hairstyles before she was finally satisfied with her appearance. Her outfit was not fancy, a rose-colored cashmere sweater that clung lovingly to her and a pair of soft wool pants. Still, according to her “friends,” Nick saw entirely too much of Jess Brannen, Slob Landscaper Extraordinaire, so any improvement ought to be a shocker.
She came downstairs to the most delicious aroma and Nick grinning at her from the kitchen.
“I respectfully request permission to attack you,” he said, eyeing her attire.
“Request denied,” she said. “I’ll go back up and change the sweater for a tent.”
“Over my dead body. Dinner’s ready.”
“Really?” She glanced around and saw the dining table was beautifully set with her good china. The water glasses were even filled. “Oh, Nick.”
“I like the sound of that.”
“What did you make?” she asked. “Spaghetti?”
“Don’t insult the cook. You were out of tomatoes, so we’re having Pasta II Pesto.”
“You can cook!” she exclaimed in awe.
“I’m a bargain, Jess,” he said, carrying a large bowl to the table. “Any way you look at it.”
“Can I help?” she asked, feeling guilty that he’d fixed the entire dinner while she’d been dressing. “Make coffee maybe?”
He turned around and gazed at her solemnly. “I thought we had a conversation before about your coffee.”
“One rotten cup of coffee, and the man holds it against me for life,” she said loudly, taking a seat at the table.
“I have to, Jess. I only have one stomach.”
“Quit jawing, Mikaris, and bring on the food.”
“You have a great instinct for the social graces, Jess,” he said, joining her.
“It’s all in the wrist,” she replied, grabbing the large pasta bowl.
She had three helpings. She couldn’t resist; it was the best she’d ever eaten. Nick’s pasta would give Reva’s Stroganoff a run for its money, she thought.
“Next time I’ll double the recipe,” Nick said, after the meal was over. “A man could starve to death with you.”
“I’m sorry,” she lied. “It was delicious. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He tilted the empty bowl upside down. “I think. Poor Cat, there isn’t a scrap left for him.”
Jess swallowed. “Ah, Nick?”
He glanced up quizzically. “Yes?”
“About Cat …”
“What about him?”
“Well …” She tried to think of a way to explain her lie. The problem was she
had
lied, and she’d have to do some fast and fancy talking to make him
understand why she hadn’t confessed before this. Sometimes, she thought, it was better to leave things alone. “It’s not important. By the way, Sandy’s going to play buyer for the decorating.”
“Sandy?” he repeated, shocked.
“Is there a problem?” she asked stiffly.
“No.” He chuckled. “I suddenly realized that I could have asked her in the first place.”
“Now you have to pay both of us as decorating consultants.” Jess grinned. “I love it.”
“I have the feeling you two will bankrupt me. Let’s have coffee in the living room.”
“I suppose we’d better clean up first.”
“We’ll do it later,” Nick said as he stood.
Jess glanced from the pile of dirty dishes on the table to the ones she could see through the kitchen entryway. It wouldn’t be a tragedy if the dishes waited for a little while.
“Okay, but I will make the coffee,” she said firmly.
“It’s already made.”
“You’re so efficient.”
“I told you I’m a bargain.”
A short time later, he was sitting next to her on the sofa. Their bodies were not quite touching and yet she could feel his warmth. It was a comfortable space between them, and she realized he probably knew it. She sipped her coffee. The bittersweet brew was just as good as the meal.
“I concede,” she said, setting her cup down on the end table. “I’m a lousy cook.”
“Yes, we know.”
“Would you like hot coffee on your head?” she asked sweetly.
“Not really.” Something on the news broadcast caught his attention, and he leaned forward.
Jess only listened absently to the news of falling stocks on Wall Street. Her attention was focused on Nick. She studied the clean lines of his profile and the strong column of his neck. There was a hardness, a virility to him that must have come early in adolescence. He probably hadn’t lacked for dates since he was fourteen, she thought. Or sex, although she hoped that had begun later. An odd pain shot through her, and she knew instantly that it was jealousy.
She wished she could allow herself a little possessiveness with him, but she was allowing too many other things as it was. What she’d unconsciously done so far to ruin their relationship hadn’t produced results, and she was grateful. She was trying so hard to watch herself, to realize when that destructiveness was taking over. But that was the problem, she admitted. She just didn’t know when to stop herself, and she was terrified now of what she might be driven to do.
Nick shook his head, bringing her out of her thoughts. He sat back and turned to her.
“There’s a helluva lot of stock trading going on,” he said. “Makes a person wonder.”
“Do you have many stocks?” she asked.
He laughed. “Everything I have is invested in MeadowHill. Real estate’s a better gamble.”
“Really?”
He stared at her. “You believe the stock market’s better?”
“Actually, I don’t know,” she said, shrugging. “I’m not even sure how my trust funds work.”
“For some reason, I thought you would know about money.”
“I know about money,” she said quietly. “I just don’t know about economics. There’s a difference, Nick.”
“I suppose.” He draped his arm around her.
She glanced at him. “Nick …”
“Relax.” He shifted closer. “We have reached Stage Two.”
“What’s Stage Two?” she asked, all too aware of his thigh lightly touching hers.
“Snuggling.”
“Snuggling? What’s snuggling?”
“Jess, where have you been? In the Dark Ages?” He pulled her into the curve of his arm. “You put your head on my shoulder and we snuggle together and watch TV.”
“You’re a cheap date, Mikaris,” she said, picking up her coffee cup and taking a sip of the cooled liquid.
“I was once known as a ‘hot’ date, Brannen.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” she murmured into the cup.
“I heard that.” He gently pulled on her hair to get her to turn her head. When she did, he asked, “Do I detect a note of jealousy, Jess?”
“Let’s snuggle,” she said brightly, and laid her head on his shoulder.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“I’m afraid to,” she said honestly.
His strong hand covered her shoulder, and he whispered, “You don’t have to be.”
“I’m afraid of that, too.”
“Then we’ll snuggle.”
He simply held her, and they watched TV. Jess could feel the strong muscles of his chest pillowing
her head. The clean scent of soap and male teased her senses. She felt safe and protected.
And she felt an underlying tension.
Desire slowly swirled through her, tightening around her thighs, leadening her arms. Her breath came in deep silent sighs, causing her breasts to press against the side of his body. Her legs moved restlessly. She knew what she wanted, what she needed. She stared at her hand resting lightly on his stomach. All she had to do was …
Instead, they watched TV. For hours.
Finally, around eleven, he stretched his arms and yawned. “I’d better be going.”
Jess lifted her head and sat up. She ignored the tremendous crick in her neck.
“It’s getting late,” she agreed.
He gathered up his jacket, and she walked with him to the door. He left her with a chaste kiss on the cheek. She watched him until he got into his car, and with a last wave, drove away.
She slammed the door shut.
“Dammit!” she cried. The anger she’d suppressed for the last hour finally surfaced in full force.
The whole night his hand had never once strayed from her shoulder. He’d never lifted her chin to bring her mouth to his. He’d never moved or shifted his body closer to hers.
And he’d known that it had driven her crazy.
He had kept his promise of no pressure, she acknowledged. Much as she wanted to, she couldn’t blame him for turning it to his advantage. She really shouldn’t be wishing he wasn’t quite so honorable—or sneaky.
Jess groaned. She didn’t know what to do with
him. She didn’t want to hurt him, and she was afraid she would. She wanted desperately to take a chance, but knew she shouldn’t. And yet his arms felt so right around her. She wanted the closeness, needed the lovemaking.
What, she wondered, was wrong with her? She’d never felt anything like this for another man. A war was going on inside her, and she just didn’t understand—
Jess froze, suddenly understanding it all too well.
She was in love with him.
She slowly closed her eyes, as if in pain. It explained so much.
She was hopeful and scared. Maybe she was finally letting go of her past. Or maybe she would do something horrendous to get him away from her. She wanted to run after him and tell him she loved him, and she wanted to weep in despair.
Knowing she’d have another sleepless night of confusion, she walked into the living room. The dining room table caught her eye, and she cursed again.
On top of everything else, the son of a gun had left her with the dishes.
“They’re bronze, but they’re not nearly as heavy as these two clowns are pretending they are.”
Nick grinned at Jess’s comment as they watched Roger and Duane struggle to set the last of the twelve large plate inlays into the freshly poured cement. When finished, the inlays, each decorated with a zodiac design, would form a circle around the base of the sundial, which was the focal point of the front garden. He knew the inlays were more unwieldy than heavy.
“They weigh a ton!” Roger gasped, as he and Duane carefully set the inlay into place, without marring the cement.
Both young men proceeded to collapse on their backs.
“I want a raise,” Duane said, panting.
“A big one,” Roger agreed.
“Quit moaning,” Jess said, kneeling down. “You
two only have to push a spreader across a lawn and you think you need a raise.”
Ignoring their protests of cruel and inhuman working conditions, she carefully wiped the cement away from the inlay with a wet rag.
“Jess, the garden will be fantastic,” Nick said, smiling broadly at the beautiful centerpiece. “I think our bet was the best thing to happen to me.”
“Bet?” Roger and Duane echoed, immediately sitting up.
“The Greek chorus is heard from,” Jess said, leaning back on her heels. “Please, Nick, they’re just young innocent boys with wild imaginations. Don’t excite them about our gentlemen’s agreement.”