Her heart twisted. She had to force the word past her lips. “None.”
“But the boyfriend, the senior partner, he’s going to give you some?”
She didn’t reply.
“Touchy subject?”
“Personal.”
“Let me guess.” He walked to the woodpile, selected a dusty chunk of pine. “He doesn’t want any.”
“Chuck’s got three kids already. They’re in college—well, the youngest one hasn’t graduated from high school yet, but...wait a minute.” She shook her head. “Why am I telling you this? As I said, it’s none of your business.”
“But this is my hour, remember? I’ve already paid for it.”
Rather than comment, she sent him a look that would cut through stone.
He got the hint. Rapping his knuckles on the hood, he said, “Just for the record, you should keep this as an investment.”
“So now you’re a financial analyst?”
“Jack-of-all-trades. Master of none. Today, I’m a furnace repairman and stockbroker.”
His self-deprecating smile touched a forbidden part of her heart and she forced herself behind her carefully constructed barriers against this man. Emotionally he was a nightmare to her. Despite all her warnings, all of the pain, she still reacted to him, still wondered what would be the harm in letting him kiss her and touch her...
Oh, God. She cleared her throat and ignored the heat suddenly rushing through her blood. What had they been talking about...oh, yes...
“You’re a repairman? Not much of one tonight.”
White teeth flashed. “But a helluva lot better than I am as a financial analyst.”
“Is that so?”
“Yep. I can guarantee you a fire, though. I’m a master craftsman when it comes to that. It’s my primitive side.”
“Cro-Magnon or Neanderthal?”
“Take your pick.” He found an ax near the door and pulled it from the wall.
“How about a little of both?”
“Whatever floats your boat.” He set the piece of pine on a scarred chopping block and swung the ax down hard.
Crack!
The chunk of pine split, the two pieces tumbling to the old cement floor. He picked up one of the pieces, set it on the block, then swung again. Wood splintered. Kindling clattered noisily to the floor. “What did I tell you? A master craftsman, here.”
He grabbed another piece and set to work. Within minutes there was a pile of kindling near the door and the air inside the garage was filled with the scent of dry wood and disturbed dust.
“Enough?”
“Plenty. Thanks.”
“No problem.” He hung the ax back on the wall, grabbed an armload of the split wood while she picked two larger pieces and headed into the house.
“You don’t have to do this,” she said when they were in the living room and he, on one knee, checked the flue. Soot fell from the chimney.
“I know. I don’t have to do anything.”
“I mean, I don’t think...”
“Are you trying to kick me out?” He looked over one shoulder.
“Yes.”
“To quote the vernacular, ‘it ain’t workin’.’”
“It should.”
He glanced pointedly at his wrist and she noticed the five-o’clock shadow darkening his jaw, the way his hair fell over his forehead despite the fact that he kept pushing it out of his eyes. “The way I see it, you still owe me a few minutes.”
“I’m not taking your money, Slade.”
Satisfied that the flue would vent properly, he stuffed an old newspaper around the kindling, flicked a lighter to the yellowed edges and as the flames devoured the Want Ads, he rocked back on his heels to survey his work.
“I think I should tell you about Sue Ellen.”
“I thought we weren’t going to discuss the past.”
“That was your rule last night, not mine.”
“Nothing you can say will change things, Slade.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
“You’re afraid of the truth,” he charged, standing, staring at her hard.
“No way,” she snapped, suddenly angry. “I just don’t think it’s relevant. Not anymore. What happened between us—”
“The ‘blip,’ isn’t that what you called it?”
“That’s right. The blip. It’s over. Forget it.”
“I can’t, damn it.” Blue eyes regarded her. “Not since seeing you again.”
“Oh, save me.”
“It’s true.”
“There was a time when I would have clung to those words, Slade, but no more.” His gaze drilled into hers, silently accusing her of the lie, and she wanted to squirm away. But she didn’t. “I don’t want to hear whatever it is you’re so hell-bent on saying.”
“Well, maybe, Counselor, just maybe, this isn’t so much about you, as it is about me.”
“Oh, great, so now I get to be your confessor? Now, after fifteen damned years, I get to listen to some weak excuse as to why you tried so hard to seduce me, just to throw me away when your rich girlfriend came running back to you? Well, no thanks. I’m not a priest.”
“It wasn’t because she was rich.”
Jamie didn’t comment. “Then she was more beautiful or more exciting or—”
“No way. She was...safe, okay? Safe. I knew what to expect from her. With you...”
“What?”
“You gave as well as you got, Jamie. Anything I dared you to do, you did it and then dared me right back. I thought we were on a collision course.”
“That’s what I thought you liked.”
“I did. Too much. It was just too much. Too fast. Too hot. Too dangerous.”
“You know, those should be my lines, because the way I remember it, you were the one always pushing the envelope, pushing me, convinced that we were both invincible.” She stepped closer to him and poked a stiff finger at his chest. “You scared me, McCafferty, you scared the hell out of me and I liked it.”
“Me, too.”
The silence stretched between them. A hundred memories flashed through Jamie’s mind. A dozen reasons to tell him to take a hike or to jump in a lake or to go to hell flitted through her brain, but she held her tongue.
Like it or not, he was her client.
As if reading her mind he said, “Yeah. That’s the way I remember it.” His jaw slid to one side and his lips barely moved as he said, “But, no matter what happened way back when, the reality is that you and I are gonna be dealing with each other a lot in the next couple of weeks and we’ll have to find a way to get past what happened. So...I thought I’d come by and set the record straight, okay?”
No, she thought, it isn’t okay. Nothing is with you. But she couldn’t let him know.
“Okay?” he persisted.
“Fine, Slade,” she said, dropping onto the arm of Nana’s overstuffed couch and trying vainly to hold on to her rapidly escaping poise, the poise that always seemed to elude her whenever she was near Slade. Damn the man, why wouldn’t he just leave well enough alone? Why couldn’t he leave her alone, and why in the world couldn’t she stop reacting to him? “If you’re so all-fired intent on unburdening yourself, then, by all means—” she waved her fingers in the air as if she didn’t care “—spill your damned guts.”
“Good.”
No, it’s not. Nothing good will come of this, she thought, but again held her tongue as she noticed the stretch of denim against his thighs and buttocks as he warmed the backs of his legs near the hungry, crackling flames... She tore her eyes away.
Don’t go there, Jamie, don’t!
But the man’s pure sexuality was hard to ignore, from the slight cleft in his chin to the breadth of his shoulders. She remembered clinging to those muscular, sinewy shoulders, feeling the heat of his body, a mirror of the fire in her own bloodstream...she hadn’t had thoughts like these in years, not since...Slade. Always Slade. Suddenly the room was f
ar too cozy, too intimate, too close. Though it was freezing out, she wanted to throw open the windows.
He was staring at her. She cleared her throat, pretended she was in a courtroom, and tried desperately to keep the emotions swirling deep inside. “Okay,” she said, hating the breathless sound of her voice. “Here’s your big chance to explain everything. Go for it.”
His expression turned serious. “First of all, you should know that I was never in love with Sue Ellen Tisdale.”
“You could have fooled me.” Oh, God, she really shouldn’t hear this...couldn’t allow herself to believe his lies.
Lazarus jumped into her lap and absently she stroked his head as the old pain of Slade’s rejection, the dull ache of knowing he hadn’t cared for her, that he’d used her, settled over her. It was silly, of course. Downright ludicrous. But undeniable.
“I fooled everyone. Maybe even myself,” he admitted, his voice low. “It seemed the right thing to do.”
“As I said, it’s ancient history.” She tried to sound flip, but her words seemed hollow.
He didn’t immediately respond, not until she looked up and found him staring at her. His gaze was intense, the muscles in his neck tight. For the first time she realized how difficult this was for him.
“The plain truth of the matter is, Jamie, you were the girl I wanted.”
“I was the girl you wanted?” She nearly laughed. “Oh, give me a break. This is like some kind of cruel joke,” she said, though deep in her heart a very feminine part of her wanted desperately to believe him. How many times had she conjured up just this very admission? But, of course, it was a lie.
“No joke.”
“Whoa—just wait a minute.” She held up a hand and shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do here, but it’s...way out of line. You didn’t give two cents for my feelings. If you had wanted me then, you could have had me. I was nuts about you.”
“So it was more than a ‘blip.’”
“A schoolgirl crush. A short one. Look, I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but this...this is crazy,” she insisted. How long had she wished, prayed, she would hear those words he’d just said? You were the girl I wanted. How many nights had she cried herself to sleep hoping foolishly that Slade would come to his senses, that he would love her? That he would track her down, spin her around and tell her that letting her go was the worst mistake of his life?
Just like a poorly plotted scene in some bad B movie.
“Let’s just forget we had this conversation,” she suggested. “Whatever we had, it’s over. Has been for a long time.”
He frowned, looked at the toes of his boots and then glanced up. “If you say so, Counselor.”
“I do.”
“Then I guess that’s settled.” He started for the door, but as he passed her one arm reached out, grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to her feet.
“Hey! Wha—” The tip of his nose touched hers.
“You know what, Jamie Parsons? You’re the worst liar I’ve ever met in my life, and that’s not good, what with you being a lawyer and all. You’re supposed to be good at twisting the truth around.”
“I haven’t lied—”
“Bull.”
“Honestly, Slade—”
“You want me to kiss you,” he said, his eyes darkening to a seductive blue that caused the pulse in her throat to pound erratically.
“What? No!” She tried to pull out of his embrace.
“You’ve been wondering what it would be like. If the old spark is still there.”
“Your ego is incredible.”
“Along with other things.”
She couldn’t believe he would be so bold. “For the love of Mike, give it up,” she said, but she didn’t pull out of his arms and hated the fact that part of her thrilled to be held so tight, that the scent of his cologne caused her heart to race, that the heat of his body caused her blood to heat. She flicked a glance at his lips. Hard. Blade-thin. Nearly cruel.
“Come on, Jamie, admit it, you want to find out.”
“I think it’s you who wants to find out.”
“Definitely.” His face was so close she noticed the layers of blue in his irises, saw that his thin scar was taut and white. “And we still have a few minutes left on my hour. We may as well make the best of them.”
“By doing this?”
“Absolutely.”
Before she could take a breath, his lips slanted over hers. Pressed hard. Touched her as no one else’s ever had. She closed her eyes, gave in for the briefest of seconds, felt the play of his tongue against her teeth, remembered how much she’d loved him, that she would have given her life for his.
Oh, please, no. Pulling back, she said, “This can’t happen, Slade. We both know it.”
“Do we?” He was still holding her, his fingers splayed possessively over the small of her back.
Gritting her teeth, she slipped out of the embrace. “Yeah, we do. I’m not some silly schoolgirl with romantic fantasies about love any longer, and I don’t believe in making the same mistakes I did in the past. You know the old expression, ‘Once burned, twice shy’? Well, that’s me.” She leaned one shoulder against the wall and told herself it wasn’t to steady her suddenly weak knees.
“And you think I’ll burn you?”
“Damn straight.” On legs more unsteady than they should have been, she strode into the kitchen, retrieved the damned hundred-dollar bills from the windowsill and marched back to the living room. “Our time is up,” she said, stuffing the bills into the pocket of his jacket. “It has been for years.”
He reached for the money as if to give it back to her, but she held up a palm to stop him. “Don’t even think about it.”
His smile was pure evil. “You’re a hard woman, Counselor.”
“And I pride myself on it.”
Blue eyes mocked her and she realized she’d inadvertently thrown him a challenge. “What’s the quote? ‘Pride goeth before a fall’? Something like that?”
“You are a bastard, you know.”
“And I pride myself on that.”
Folding her arms across her chest, she said, “Not only a bastard, but insufferable, as well.”
“So I’ve been told.” He winked at her as he walked to the door.
So cocky. As if he knew he was getting to her.
Grinning as if her discomfiture amused the hell out of him, he opened the door and drawled, “’Evenin’, Counselor. Sleep well.”
“I will.”
“Alone?”
“That’s the way I want it.” Cold air seeped into the house.
“Is it?” He hesitated. “I wonder.”
“Don’t,” she suggested, cutting the distance between them with quick steps. She wasn’t going to let him get the best of her. “And for the record, it’s Neanderthal.”
“What?”
“You didn’t know if you were Cro-Magnon or Neanderthal a little while earlier. I thought I’d clear it up for you.”
“Much obliged,” he mocked as he slipped through the door and closed it firmly behind him.
“And good riddance,” she muttered, glancing through the blinds to watch him walk across the snow-crusted yard to the spot where his pickup was parked. He paused to light a cigarette, the flame from his lighter illuminating the bladed angles of his face in the encroaching night. What was it about him that was so damned unforgettable? So sexy?
Angrily she snapped the blinds shut but it didn’t help because, as much as she’d argued against it, she knew as she heard the sound of his truck roaring away, that she’d lied to him. As well as to herself.
It wasn’t over with Slade McCafferty. It probably never would be.
Chapter 7
So Jamie Parsons has a boyfriend.
So what?
What did you expect?
At least she’s not married.
“Damn!” Swearing under his breath as snowflakes drifted from a leaden sky, Slade gave
the wrench one final twist, then dropped it into his open toolbox. What the hell did it matter to him if Jamie was married or not? She’d made it clear that she didn’t want anything to do with him.
A gust of icy wind blasted around the corner of the stables where he’d been working on an exterior spigot. What had gotten into him? Why after fifteen years of hardly thinking of her, was she now lodged permanently in his mind?
Why couldn’t he forget the conversation they’d had last night? Forget the fact that she was involved with another man? Hell, hadn’t he been through his share of women in the past decade and a half?
But he hadn’t lied to her when he’d told her she’d scared him as a youth. She’d been so wild, unafraid to go toe-to-toe with him, that he’d worried they’d self-destruct.
In a way they had. He’d seen to it.
“Hell.” Squinting against the wind and snow, he turned on the spigot enough to allow a thin stream of water to run onto the fresh snow and to see that the pipe didn’t leak, then he replaced the insulating cap and straightened. He’d been checking all of the pipes running to and from the barns and stables, making sure none had frozen, just to keep himself busy. He couldn’t spend every waking minute dogging after his sister even though he considered himself her bodyguard. Nor could he chase after Jamie, which he’d been considering. She’d lay him flat. And he couldn’t go home to Boulder. Never would again. Because of Rebecca and the baby.
He glanced at the sky as if he could see God through the thick clouds. Why? Why take Rebecca and the baby? Guilt tore through him; raged as cold as this damned storm.
He straightened. He’d been checking the pipes for hours, all the while either worrying about his sister, wondering why Rebecca’s image was fading, or thinking about his conversations with Jamie the past couple of days. He wondered about the man Jamie had been dating, the senior partner in the law firm, the older guy with kids. Last night Jamie had ducked the question about Chuck wanting to marry her.
Chuck. With a ready-made family and a secure law practice. A senior partner and probably stuffy as hell. But he could offer her a home, job, money...if that’s what she really wanted.
Slade wasn’t sure...there was a part of her that would rebel against the staid type. He’d seen the flash in her intriguing hazel eyes, felt it in the fever of her kiss... No, Jamie Parsons wouldn’t be satisfied being a traditional corporate wife and stepmother.