That McCloud Woman (4 page)

"He
cussed me."

"I
said,
let the boy go."

The
bus driver eyed Jack a moment as if measuring his chances if it came to a
fight, then scowled. He gave the boy a shove, knocking him up against Jack's
leg. The boy fell to his knees but immediately scrambled back to his feet,
curling his hands into fists. Jack put a hand on the boy's shoulder, firmly
holding him in place.

With
a sneer at the kid, the driver turned on Alayna. "I'm telling you for the
last time," he said, shaking a threatening finger in her face. "That
smart-mouthed kid ain't ridin' my bus no more. I don't have to put up with that
kind of sass, 'specially not from a snot-nosed, motherless brat." With that,
he wheeled around and stomped back up the steps of his bus. The door snapped
back into place, then, with a grinding of gears, the bus pulled away.

Jack
tightened his hand on the boy's shoulder and spun him around to face him.
"Did you cuss him?"

The
kid glared up at Jack, meeting his gaze belligerently. "Yeah. I called him
an old fart, 'cause he is one."

"Go
to your room." Jack wasn't sure where the order came from, or even why he
was involving himself in a situation that was definitely none of his business.
But he had, and though he'd come to the kid's defense, he knew the boy was in
the wrong and needed a good reprimanding.

The
boy swelled up as if he wanted to argue Jack's right to tell him what to do,
but Alayna quickly intervened. "Go on upstairs, Billy, and put your school
things away. And take Molly with you. I'll be up in a minute."

Though
Jack could tell the boy didn't want to obey the order, to his credit, he
followed Alayna's instructions. "Come on, Molly," he muttered,
stooping to scrape his book bag from the ground. "Something stinks out
here," he added, shooting a dark look Jack's way.

Molly
sidestepped her way past Jack, her eyes wide and watchful as she stared up at
him. When she'd made it safely past him, she tucked her teddy bear tighter against
her chest and ran to catch up with Billy. On the porch, she bent and scooped up
the cat, then, with a last nervous glance at Jack, she slipped inside the door.

Alayna
watched her charges disappear into the house. "I'm sorry," she said,
then turned to look at Jack. She sighed when she saw his disapproving scowl.
"I'm afraid my children didn't make a very good first impression, did
they?"

One
thick eyebrow shot up in surprise. "Those two are
your
kids?"

"Technically,
no. They are my foster children."

His
scowl returned.

Alayna
wrinkled her nose as she continued to peer up at him. "I guess you don't
care for children any more than you care for cats, huh?"

"Not
particularly. And that boy there," he said with a jerk of his chin toward
the house, "needs to have the seat of his pants warmed. He's got a mouth
on him."

Alayna
nodded her agreement, though already dreading the confrontation. "Yes.
I'll talk to Billy."

Jack
grunted, indicating his doubt on the effectiveness of having a talk with a kid
like Billy.

"You
haven't changed your mind, have you?" Alayna asked uncertainly.
"You'll stay and do the remodeling?"

Jack
glanced toward his truck, the temptation to climb back in it and drive away so
strong he had to brace his knees to keep from giving in to it. "I gave my
word," he said, setting his jaw. "I'll see the job done."

Jack
awakened early, as was his habit, to find the sky beyond his window washed with
the pinks and lavenders signifying dawn's arrival. The bed he slept on was an
old one, but comfortable, and a definite improvement over the bedroll he'd been
sleeping on for the last couple of months, spread out over the bed of his
truck. He rolled to his side, tucking an arm beneath his head, and stared out
the window, praying that the events of the day before had never happened, that
he'd wake up any minute and realize it was all a bad dream.

But
he wasn't asleep, and this was no bad dream that he'd wake from. The view of
the Pond House through the cabin's window was proof enough of that.

The
Pond House. A fitting—if simplistic—name for the house, since the structure had
been built beside a pond. Yet, the name was a poetic one, too, reflective of
the setting and the natural materials that had been used in its construction.
White limestone, rough cedar, combined with a lot of glass to take advantage of
the views. It was a beautiful place, well constructed, though still in need of
repair. There was a peacefulness about the place and its setting that seemed to
tug at him.

Peaceful.
That word
again. He frowned, thinking how the day before he'd thought the same thing
about the town of Driftwood when he'd been staring at its main street through
the café's window. Now here he was planted right smack-dab in the middle of it
all—the town, the house, the pastoral setting—and he sure as hell didn't feel
very peaceful. Not when he considered the kids who inhabited the house … or the
woman who cared for them.

He
glanced at the bedside table and at the bottle of whiskey sitting on top of it.
His friend. His companion. His catharsis for a pain that just wouldn't go away.

He
frowned and reached for the bottle, curling his fingers around its neck. Amber
liquid sloshed against its side as he leaned over and shoved the bottle
underneath the bed and out of his sight. The whiskey had failed to work its
magical charm for him this time. His dreams during the night, though different
from his past ones, were no less disturbing. They had been filled with an
angel-faced woman with eyes so deep a blue a man could drown in them, and a
gentle touch that made his skin heat and his heart yearn for things that could
never be.

With
a groan, he rolled to his side again, and stared out the window. As if his
thoughts had drawn her, the back door of the Pond House opened and the woman
who had filled his dreams stepped out onto the flagstone patio.

Alayna.

She
wore a long, cotton robe, the same shade of blue as her eyes. It billowed
around her legs in the early-morning breeze like a cloud in a summer sky.
Barefoot and with her blond hair still mussed with sleep, she looked young and
innocent … and good enough to eat. While he watched, she hugged her arms up
under her breasts, tipped her face up to the sky and drew in a deep, cleansing
breath. A soft, sensual smile curved her lips as she filled her lungs with the
fresh, early-morning air. Even from his distance, Jack could see the rise of
her breasts over her folded arms, and his groin tightened in response.

Damn,
but she was pretty, and as sexy as any woman he'd ever seen. He shifted, easing
the unexpected ache that jumped to life between his legs. Unable to look away
from her, he continued to watch as she walked around the patio, pausing to
fluff a floral pillow on a chair, then stooping to pull a weed from a
terra-cotta pot filled with pink geraniums and trailing ivy. With her
movements, the robe parted, revealing a brief peek at tanned legs, and when she
stooped, the top gaped, baring an even more enticing view of the valley between
her breasts.

Eve
couldn't have waved that apple under Adam's nose with a greater effect.

Jack
felt the desire mounting and rolled to his back and away from the tempting
sight, his eyes wide, his breath coming fast and hard. He fisted his hands in
the tangle of bed linens, forced his gaze to remain on the ceiling and made
himself draw in three deep breaths.

Kids,
he reminded
himself. The woman had kids. And Jack Cordell wanted no part of them. The woman
or
her brood.

Alayna
stuck her head out the kitchen door and offered Jack a sunny smile. "Good
morning! You're up early."

Seeing
that she still wore the same blue robe he'd seen her in earlier, Jack frowned
and glanced away, setting his toolbox on the flagstone patio. "Didn't see
any sense in wasting time getting started."

"Have
you had breakfast?" She laughed before he could answer, flapping a
dismissing hand at him. "Of course you haven't," she said, shaking
her head at the foolishness of her question. "You wouldn't have had a
chance to stock the cabin with food, yet." She waved her hand again, this
time gesturing for him to come inside. "I was just whipping up a batch of
pancakes. There's plenty for two."

Without
waiting for an answer, she slipped back into the kitchen, letting the door
close softly behind her.

Jack
stared through the mesh screen at the shadowed form moving beyond it, his empty
stomach warring with good sense, his mind worrying with the fear of facing
those kids again. In the end, his stomach won out.

His
feet heavy with dread, he opened the door and stepped inside. The smell of
coffee greeted him first, followed quickly by the scent of bacon frying. Then
his gaze rested on Alayna, standing before the stove, looking much the same as
she had earlier that morning when he'd seen her on the patio—her feet still
bare, her hair still tousled from sleep.

He
glanced around uneasily. "Where are the kids?"

"Oh,
they've already left for school." She glanced over her shoulder, but
missed the relaxing of his shoulders, though she must have seen the question in
his eyes. "My cousin's son drove them," she explained, then turned back
to the griddle with a sigh. "Yesterday wasn't the first time we've had a
problem on the bus … and I'm sure it won't be the last. Molly says that Mr.
Evert, the bus driver, picks on Billy."

Jack
grunted his doubt and won a slight frown from Alayna.

"I
know that what Billy did was wrong," she said as she turned back to the
stove. "But he's just a little boy and he's having a difficult time
adjusting to all the changes in his life. Mr. Evert's an adult. Surely he could
be a little more understanding, a little more compassionate."

"The
boy needs to learn to control his mouth and show respect for his elders."

Alayna
sighed again, and poured batter on the griddle. "Yes. You're right, of
course. Still…" She gave her head a shake, then turned slightly, offering Jack
a grateful smile. "I appreciated your help yesterday. Having a male
influence around will be a help to Billy, I'm sure."

Jack
intended to set her straight real quick about his willingness to get involved
in the kids' lives, but her movement caused her robe to gape a bit, revealing
the swell of a breast, the shadowed cleavage that lay between. The sight burned
away all rational thought. He ripped off his cap and gripped it by its bill,
needing to fill his hands with something other than tempting flesh. "Is
there something I can do to help?" he asked, forcing his gaze away from
her and to the clock on the wall.

"You
can set the table, if you like. The plates are in the cupboard—" she gave
her head a nod in that direction "—and the silver is in the first drawer
to the left."

Jack
tossed his cap to the counter, crossed to the sink and began to wash his hands.

"You
know," she said thoughtfully as she turned thick strips of bacon in an
iron skillet, "it's really foolish for you to even consider stocking up on
a lot of groceries. Cooking for one is difficult, I know, and awfully
lonely." She tossed a sympathetic smile in Jack's direction. "Why
don't you just plan to eat your meals here with us?"

Jack's
fingers slipped on the bar of soap and it shot out of his hands, smacking
against the side of the chipped porcelain sink with a loud
thunk.
He swallowed hard, trying to think up an excuse to
decline. "I wouldn't want to put you to the trouble," he mumbled and
stuck his hands beneath the water, wishing he could stick his head beneath the
cool spray, as well.

"Oh,
no bother." She graced him with yet another smile.

Without
answering, Jack tore off a strip of paper towels and dried his hands, already
regretting accepting her invitation for breakfast and wondering how he was
going to wiggle his way out of sharing meals with her and her brood. He reached
for the plates, then opened the drawer she'd indicated and stacked the
necessary utensils on top. Crossing to the table, he arranged place settings on
opposite sides of the table.

"There's
coffee already made, or, if you'd prefer, there's orange juice in the
refrigerator."

Hoping
the caffeine would clear his head a little and settle his nerves, Jack mumbled,
"Coffee's fine," and headed for the coffeemaker on the counter. By
the time he'd poured himself a cup, Alayna was setting a platter of bacon and
stacks of golden pancakes in the center of the table. She took a seat,
gesturing for him to join her.

"Have
you decided where you'd like to start work today?" she asked as she served
first his plate, then hers.

Jack
pulled a napkin across his lap, but kept his gaze fixed on his plate. He wasn't
sure he trusted that robe of hers to stay in place, not with the way she was
flapping those arms of hers around, and he didn't think he could handle another
glimpse of those creamy breasts. He had to get out of this place, he told
himself, and the sooner the better. "You never said what all you wanted
done."