“I think it sounds incredibly sweet and loving.”
“That’s why they say he’ll never get over her. No one can take Aimee’s place.”
“I see.”
“So you’re unattached?” Jefferson leaned against the counter, and his eyes brightened.
A twinge of emotion that she couldn’t identify knotted up tight against her rib cage. Jillian wasn’t much interested in going
out with Jefferson Baines, but that emotion—whatever the hell it was—had her holding up her bare ring finger. “Free as a bird.”
He let out an audible breath, and that was the first time Jillian realized Jefferson was nervous about chatting her up. She
softened a bit toward him. She knew some men found her intimidating. Her height and what Tuck called her regal appearance
were the culprits. She had donned her queenly armor when Jefferson approached. Giving him the silver-cool tone she used when
offering plea-bargain deals to defense lawyers, and he’d managed to hold his ground.
She felt a little sorry for him then and understood he wasn’t as slick and glossy as he wanted to appear. She asked him to
sit down and join her for a cup of coffee. He readily agreed. Jillian tried to take the real estate agent seriously, but whenever
she looked at him, all she could think was
faux wood.
And then she immediately thought of Tuck and envisioned smooth, hard, rich mahogany.
“So, what do you say?” Jefferson asked.
It was only then that she realized he’d asked her a question, and she had been so busy thinking about Tuck’s favorite hardwood
she hadn’t heard. His head was cocked to one side, and he was looking at her earnestly, waiting for an answer to his question.
“Sure,” Jillian said, pretending she knew what he was talking about.
Jefferson beamed. “Great. That’s really great.”
Crap, apparently she’d just agreed to something. But what?
Jillian smiled so as not to hurt his feelings if he realized she hadn’t heard a word he said. “So, to recap …”
“I’ll pick you up at seven Friday night.”
She nodded, keeping the smile going. Apparently she’d just accepted a date with him. Well, fine. It was a good thing. Clearly
nothing was going to happen with Tuck, and that was fine. She didn’t want anything to happen with Tuck. She didn’t want anything
to happen with Jefferson, either, for that matter, but it didn’t hurt to get out of the house. Especially since she and Tuck
were around each other constantly.
“Jillian?” Jefferson asked.
“Right. Seven o’clock, Friday night. It’s a date.”
N
EITHER ONE OF THEM
mentioned what had happened on Saturday. They kept things light. Jillian spent what little time she hung around the house
upstairs, while Tuck stayed downstairs. They barely saw each other. Which was perfect. Or so she told herself.
On Friday morning, Jillian got up earlier than usual, because Sutter actually had a new client coming into the office at seven-thirty
to draft a will. She found Tuck at the bistro table eating scrambled eggs. He didn’t offer to make her any.
She reached for a box of corn flakes from the cabinet, along with a spoon and a bowl, and came back to sit down across from
him.
“Good morning,” she said.
“Good morning.” He didn’t look up from the copy of
Sports Illustrated
he was reading.
She got up again to pour herself some coffee. “You want another cup?”
“I’m good.”
“How’s the ankle?” She sat back down, dismayed to see her corn flakes had already gone soggy.
“Couldn’t be better.”
“Did you let Mutt out?”
“Fed him too.” He flipped the page of his magazine without ever looking up.
He looked so damned complacent that she had an irresistible urge to rattle his cage. “I’m meeting Jefferson Baines for dinner,
so I won’t be home until late.”
Tuck’s fork stopped halfway to his mouth, but he acted only mildly interested. “Oh yeah?”
“Yes.” She couldn’t quite meet his gaze. “He asked me out. We’re going on a date.”
“Have fun.” He picked up his fork and went back to his eggs.
Disappointment curled inside her. “That’s all you’re going to say?”
“What? You want me to tell you not to go?”
“No, I just figured that you’d have something smart-ass to say about faux wood.”
“I’ve already told you my opinion on Jefferson Baines. No need to repeat myself.”
“So you don’t care if I date him?” She left the bistro table to toss her soggy cornflakes into the sink.
“Why should I care? You’re a grown woman. Date away.”
“Fine. I will.”
“Are you mad at me?”
“No, no.” God, what was she saying? She was practically begging him to ask her not to go out with Jefferson. “Why would I
be mad?”
“Great. Glad to hear it.”
“Perfect, I’ll just go, then.”
“Have a good time.”
“You can bet I will.”
“Watch out for the Viagra.”
“What?”
“Faux wood and all that.” Tuck winked.
“You can be quite infuriating, you know that?”
“Right back at you,” he said.
Jillian snatched up her purse and marched for the back door. Something, she didn’t know what, told her to glance back over
her shoulder.
She caught him, his eyes off the magazine and totally focused on her. What knocked her off guard was the way he was looking
at her—as if a house he’d invested months in designing and building had just gone on the market.
T
UCK COULDN’T BELIEVE
J
ILLIAN
was going out with Baines. If that’s the kind of artificial show-off she went for, no wonder she’d never been in love.
“What do you care?” he growled under his breath as he pulled into the parking space at the Peabody Mansion. After he’d broken
his ankle, he delayed the jobs that required going up on ladders. Sutter had told him to take his time getting back to repairing
the old Victorian. His ankle wasn’t a hundred percent, but Doc Couts had taken the cast off the day before, and he was healing
well enough to get back to work. Especially since Ridley had promised to drop by and help him when he finished an electrical
job he had on the other side of town. He was ready for this.
Or so he told himself. What he didn’t admit was that he couldn’t wait to be around Jillian again.
He went inside.
“Hey, Tuck, how’s the ankle?” Lexi greeted him from the doorway of her flooring store.
“Much better, Lex, thanks.” He looked at her, and she smiled at him kindly. Too kindly.
“I heard Jillian’s going out with Jefferson,” she said.
Ah, that explained the look on her face. She was feeling sorry for him. “Yeah,” he said. “I heard the same thing.”
“You’re not jealous?” Lexi asked.
He shrugged. “Why would I be jealous?”
“Aren’t you two sort of seeing each other?”
“No.” He waved a hand. “Why? Did Jillian tell you that we were seeing each other?”
Lexi shook her head. “I just sort of assumed it. Since you were living together—”
“That’s strictly by necessity,” he rushed to interrupt her before she got any further. He didn’t want any rumors starting.
“Until this property dispute is settled. We’re just roommates. It’s strictly platonic.”
“Are you sure? Because the way she looks at you sometimes …”
That pulled him up short. “Huh? How does Jillian look at me?”
“Kind of wistful. And lusty. Like she wants to jump your bones but she’s afraid to get too close.”
“Naw. You’ve misinterpreted the look. She’s not interested in me that way,” he insisted. “We’re just friends.”
Friends, huh? More like adversaries who drive each other crazy with sexual chemistry.
“Are you sure?” Lexi prodded.
“Positive.”
“So then you’re free tomorrow night?”
That gave him pause. “Why, Lexi Kilgore, are you asking me out?”
“Well, maybe, kind of. You see, I have this gift card to Thunder Mountain Lodge, and it expires tomorrow if I don’t use it,
and there goes the fifty bucks for my last birthday from Gramma Louise. I really don’t want to go alone. I was going to ask
Jillian, but now she’s going out with Jefferson.”
“Is this a pity date?”
“Hey, you’ll get a free meal.”
Tuck looked at her. Lexi had always been nice to him. For three or four months after Aimee died, she had brought him casseroles
once a week. She was a sweet woman with a bubbly personality, and if he hadn’t been so broken up over losing his wife, they
might have already gone out. Why not accept her invitation? Jillian was going out with Jefferson; he could have a date too.
“Lexi, I’d enjoy having dinner with you tomorrow night.”
B
Y THE TIME
Tuck got home from work, it was just after five o’clock. He and Ridley had spent the day replacing the Sheetrock in the ceiling
of Sutter’s office, but to his surprise, Jillian had left the building right after they’d started work, and she hadn’t come
back. So he was relieved to see her Sebring in the driveway when he arrived.
He walked in the door and heard the shower running. The sound of it—and the image that popped into his head of Jillian standing
naked under the running water—caused his heart to thump loudly in his ears. The cottage had only one bathroom. He’d been planning
on adding a second, but now he was glad he hadn’t.
Sauntering into the hallway, he stripped off his shirt and tossed it into the built-in hamper. Okay, so it was an obvious
move, but he wanted her to get an eyeful of his bare chest when she came out of the bathroom.
The water shut off.
A couple minutes later—while Tuck stood around trying to act like he’d just taken his shirt off—the bathroom door opened.
Jillian emerged in a white bathrobe with her hair twisted up in a blue towel. In her hands, she held a pair of red silk thong
panties.
She looked up, let out a little shriek, and fisted the panties in her hand. His groin tightened. “What the hell are you doing
lurking in the hallway?”
“Had a dirty job today. I need a shower.”
“That gives you the right to skulk?”
“It’s my house. I can skulk if I want to.”
“That’s up for debate. It’s been five weeks and still no deed. It’s past time to get Blake’s will probated.”
“I wasn’t skulking.” He noticed her gaze skipped over his bare chest.
“Now you’re a liar as well as a skulker.” She seemed to just now remember she was holding the skimpy red panties. Quickly,
she stuffed them in the pocket of her bathrobe.
“You wearing those for Jefferson Baines?” God, why had he said that? Now she was going to think that he was jealous. Which
he was, but he didn’t want her knowing it.
“What if I am?”
He stepped closer, blood racing, heart pounding so hard he was afraid she could hear it. He smelled the cucumbery scent of
her shampoo. A droplet of water trailed down her neck. He watched it slide over her skin and disappear between her breasts.
So far, he’d consciously avoided showering when she did. Usually, she showered in the mornings, and he took the evening. But
tonight, she had a date, so she’d changed her routine. All to his advantage. She couldn’t fault him. She was the one who’d
gone off their schedule.
Jillian stood her ground. She wasn’t easily intimidated. Her eyes met his, and she watched him warily as he walked toward
the door.
And grazed her breast with his elbow.
She sucked in her breath. “Hey!”
“Sorry for the accidental boob graze.”
“Accidental my ass—you did that on purpose.”
“If you don’t like getting your boob grazed, maybe you shouldn’t stand in the hallway wearing nothing but a bathrobe.”
“I don’t get it,” she said. “This morning you couldn’t seem to care less that I was going out with Jefferson.”
“I don’t.” He took in the haughty slope of her shoulders. The regal way she held her head. How the hallway light reflected
a soft glow off the creamy complexion of her skin. Damn, but she was beautiful and sexy as hell. He kept thinking about what
she’d look like in that red thong and how he’d like to be the one to take her out of them.
“Then why are you here? You know I’m getting ready for a date. Why not go to the Bluebird or the Rusty Nail until I’m out
of the house?”
“Because,” he said. “I have a date as well.”
J
efferson told Jillian he’d made dinner reservations at Thunder Lodge on Thunder Mountain. It took almost an hour to drive
the fifteen miles of winding mountain roads to the ski resort.
On the drive in his late-model black Lexus, Jefferson tried to engage Jillian in idle chitchat, which she didn’t hear a word
of because she kept thinking about Tuck and how he’d looked standing bare-chested in the hallway. It was the first time she’d
seen him undressed since the morning she’d walked in and found him sleeping on the couch.
There was no doubt about it—the man had world-class pecs and biceps. He could be a swimsuit model if he so desired. She licked
her lips, remembering how he’d looked standing there with the shadow of the bathroom door falling over him, the play of light
delineating the striation of his muscles.
What in the hell had gotten into him? Was he jealous? She scarcely dared hope. Did he really have a date? Or had he made it
all up?
When she thought about Tuck out on a date,
she
felt jealous. The first time he dates since his wife’s death and it wasn’t with her. Why did she want it so badly to be her?
“Do you like the music?” Jefferson asked.
For the first time, Jillian realized Vivaldi was spilling one of his seasons out of the stereo system. Why did she have a
sudden craving to hear the Lovin’ Spoonful sing “Do You Believe in Magic?”
“Lexi told me you like classical,” Jefferson confessed. “She suggested Vivaldi.”
“How kind of you to play it for me and to think to ask Lexi what kind of music I like.” She smiled. “That’s very considerate.”
“I do my research when I take a lady out.”
God, he sounded so cheesy. What was taking them so damned long to get to Thunder Mountain? “Uh-huh.”