Switched, Bothered and Bewildered (17 page)

ceiling. She had to honor her sister's interest in
Jackson.

She stripped off all her clothes and threw them on the floor. Then she slid her naked, bathed, scented body in between the silky, expensive sheets of Jillian's bed. The whiskey had spun a warm cocoon around her.

She smoothed her hands over her body. She ached to be held again; to be made love to. She'd wanted to let
Jackson have his way with her tonight, but she just hadn't been sure how, or if she should, because she would be hurting her sister's feelings. Just like Jillian had done to her. Was she that much like Jillian?

All the while they'd been talking about toys and memories and his friends she'd been watching his mouth, his hands, and the way his body moved when he walked. He was so tall, so lean and muscular. She could just imagine him taking her in his arms. She could just taste him, taste his kiss, and feel the pleasure he would give her. The more she'd had to drink, the less she'd been able to focus on his conversation.

She only had a few more days here.

She looked over at the flowers he'd brought her and breathed in their scent.

What the hell was she going to do now?

¹¹

Swap and Go

The sound of a pounding hammer worked into Jillian's deep, dreamless sleep until she stirred to a slightly more conscious level. Then the buzz of a power saw, the rustle of plastic sheets and the giggling of girls seeped in. She pulled her sweater over her head. How long had she been asleep? The old quilt and squishy pillow had formed a warm pocket beneath her. She breathed in the comfort and slowly opened her eyes. Sun filtered through the fabric of the sweater, tinting everything blue.

Her legs felt heavy and somewhat cramped from being in one position so long. She wiggled her toes and made them come alive, stretching and squirming like an inchworm.

She thought about coffee, then remembered she drank too much coffee. They'd told her at Serenity Spa that cutting back on caffeine would help her attacks.

The memory of her panic attack rolled over her quickly like the realization you've just backed into someone else's car in the parking lot. Oh God, Dean had just watched that, hadn't he? She curled back up in a ball and wished that away. She wished she could stay here on this lumpy, warm, makeshift bed forever.

Her mouth was dry, which was typical of her post-nutcase symptoms. Once she started thinking about how dry her mouth was, getting water became a more pressing need than staying curled in a ball and hiding from everyone.

Jillian sighed and gathered herself. She pulled on Jana Lee's comfy old sweater to ward off her chill. The sun was still above the mountains, orange and patient, but she felt shaky and cold.

Easing herself into a standing position, she pushed her feet into her slip-on Keds, which Dean must have slipped off. They were spackled with paint splatters: lavender blue from Carly's room, pale cottage yellow from Jana Lee's room, and the robin's egg Wyeth Blue from the kitchen and living room. Her sneakers had turned into art.

Shuffling through the open sliding glass door she surveyed what had become of her sister's

kitchen. Her mother's kitchen. The family kitchen. She wondered what Mom would say about it.

Suddenly Jillian missed her mother and the way she used to smooth down her hair and tickle her under the chin to make her less cranky. It was strange to think of her now and how Mom had slowly evolved from this hippie existence, living on the beach in Seabridge, to being a stylish
Scottsdale woman surrounded with Southwestern art.

Why Mom and Dad had had to go live in
Arizona
beat her. They'd dumped this house on Jana Lee and Bill, ranted about rain and dampness, and split to their
Scottsdale stucco condo. Dad did have allergies, and Jillian guessed that was about as good an excuse as any, but they hardly saw them except on the holidays. They'd sure looked all tan and Southwest at Christmas. Her mother had looked slim and pretty in her designer clothes, and her dad had looked very . . . golfy.

Sometimes Jillian felt like she'd only had her sister to talk to while they were growing up. Her parents had been so busy with their own lives. Dad had been such a workaholic. Mom too, for many years, with her broadcasting job. Why they hadn't just settled in
Seattle instead of out here in the sticks, she'd never understood. They had always said something about giving their girls a better childhood and how much they loved the water.

Well, if they'd asked her at the time, she'd rather have lived in the city and had them commute less.

But now was a different story. She did see how her parents had fallen in love with this little cottage next to the beach, with the vast Cascade mountain range framing the bay. There was such peace here. And really, she and Jana Lee had had a great childhood, playing on the beach, walking down into the village to the old drugstore for root beer floats, all those special memories.

She'd never forget the night they'd discovered that their rope swing could catapult them out past the deck into the water on a good high tide. After that it had been their favorite summer game. Well, it had been hers right off the bat, and Jana Lee had finally gotten brave enough to try it, then it was tops for both of them. Had Carly ever tried it? she wondered.

Dean came out of the old storage room lugging a huge orange extension cord. He looked at her and smiled an odd smile.

"Damned electrical outlets are few and far between in this little gem," he mumbled.

"Thirsty," she rasped.

"Oh, sorry, I took your drink. There's a pitcher of iced tea in the fridge, too," Dean said.

"Water," she said. She'd lost herself in thought, standing in the doorway. Her brain was still fuzzy. She walked carefully over the rubble, grabbed a

glass out of a packing box, and poured herself water from the tap.

"Careful, it's an obstacle course in here."

"So I see."

"We need to have a meeting about the project."

"I see that, too." She chugged her drink and didn't stop until she felt results.

Dean moved slowly in her direction and was now close and intimate beside her. He'd approached her like a skittish cat. She wasn't sure how she felt about that.

"Sometimes when it's all laid out on paper, it helps decrease the stress. Facing facts is always good."

"Or standing on them." She looked down at the chipped fake brick vinyl and glanced at the pile of plywood underlayment stacked in the living room, which Dean was having installed over the old kitchen floor. That, and the boxes of bisque-colored tiles to be installed once the floor was prepped. It was all about timing.

"Yup. Are you up for a meeting?" he asked.

"You've already seen me freak out; I don't picture anything worse than that occurring."

He reached over to her and touched her cheek. "It's okay. I've seen worse."

She actually put her hand over his on her cheek. It felt so good.

Her cell phone rang to the tune of the
1812 Overture.

Where the hell was that phone? She looked frantically around. Dean started looking too. He followed the sound and found her purse on top of the refrigerator. Jillian grabbed it from him and dumped the contents on the floor, located the phone and flipped it open. The caller ID said Pitman Toys. It made her stomach twist.

"Hello?"

"Jillian?"

"Hi, sis." Jillian glanced up at Dean, who stood there smiling, not moving. Apparently he was going to eavesdrop on her entire conversation.

Jana Lee's voice sounded different on the phone today. "Hi, Jilly, how's my daughter?"

"She's fine. I've given her a project, and that's keeping her out of trouble," Jillian answered. This was really hard with Dean next to her. She walked back toward the open sliding door to the deck and her cozy deck-bed. "It involves doing her own laundry," she continued.

"Ah, a lost art," Jana Lee laughed.

"How's Pit Bull Toys?"

"I'm actually having a great time. I had no idea how fun working at a toy company could be."

"Are we talking about the same toy company I just deserted? Tar Pit Toys? You are in the right building, aren't you?" Jillian sat down on the rickety lawn chair. It felt as unstable as she did.

"Yes, you goose, I am in your shiny clean office. Although it's not as shiny clean as when I got here.

I'm not doing your boring job though, I've been messing around with other things and leaving the hard work to Ollie."

"Well, your house isn't exactly as clean as you left it either."
What an understatement,
Jillian thought.

That part about Oliver made her feel slightly better. He knew exactly what to do with the details of Jillian's job. But Jana Lee messing around didn't sound good. "Messing around as in what?" she asked sharply.

"Never mind, it's no big deal. But I have a little proposition for you. How would you like to stay another week? I'm having too much fun."

Jillian couldn't believe her ears. After her little episode earlier, it sounded like a miracle. She obviously needed more rest time than she thought. Not to mention the fact that it gave her the extra time to tackle the house repairs. She wasn't even going to think about all the side issues. "Yes," she blurted out before her mind started picking apart the details.

"That was quick. Are you doing okay?" Jana Lee sounded surprised.

"Not really. I could definitely use the extra time. I seem to be a little more fried than I thought. I will have to talk to Oliver and see if he feels okay about it. Maybe a bonus would help," Jillian said.

"He definitely deserves a bonus," Jana Lee said. "And I'll need to talk to Carly Have her call later and I'll see how she's doing. Can we agree she's

got a ten o'clock curfew for these summer nights?" Jana Lee said.

"No problem. I really do have her on a project, so most of the time she's around here. I met the crazy girlfriends, and I think I can handle it. No boys so far."

"Speaking of boys, how's the repair guy?" Jana Lee asked.

Jillian didn't know what to say. All of a sudden she was very confused about her whole involvement with Dean. "He's . . . handy. How's
Jackson?"

"Warming up to you." Jana Lee snickered.

"W-weird. I-I'm not sure what to say," Jillian stuttered. Handy? Dean was handy?
Jackson was warming up to which one of them? She put her hand to her forehead.

"Me neither, so let's not. I've got to run. I have a drawing to finish," Jana Lee said.

A
drawing?
Jillian didn't even want to know. The less she heard about what was happening at Pitman Toys, the better she felt.

"I. . . love you, sis." Jillian stumbled over her words.

"I love you too, Jillian. Have Carly call soon."

They ended their conversation, and Jillian wondered how long it had been since she'd told Jana Lee she loved her.

She leaned back and closed her eyes. Another week. That would be heaven.

The breeze off the bay ruffled her hair against her neck. Along, slow breath gave her the scents of the garden and the beach mingled together. This place was very peaceful. She needed peaceful.

Dean couldn't stop smiling to himself. He shook his head in disbelief. The strange deception on the part of Carly's aunt whozzits was really a puzzle. He also wished he knew her real name.

He balanced the newly painted trim pieces on the sawhorses he'd set up in the living room area. They'd dry quickly with the sun streaming through the house. He couldn't really do anything more with the kitchen until those were done. Time for that meeting. Maybe it would go down better with food.

He cleaned off his hands with a rag, then went to the utility room to use the sink in there for a scrub with Goof Off paint remover. He stripped off his T-shirt and washed up to his elbows.

The window was open, and he saw her stretched out on the chaise lounge again. The evening sun had moved slightly under the tree, and she looked like she was soaking up the heat. That was probably good therapy.

When he finished he went to his duffle bag, took out a clean white T-shirt and pulled it over his head. Then he looked up and saw her standing in the doorway, framed with light, staring at him. She'd gotten up from her warm spot.

"Hey, Mrs. S, are you game for a pizza? I'm buying."

"I'm game. The girls would no doubt be game too. I'll chip in and we'll get a couple of them."

"Are you a ham and pineapple girl?"

"Akk, no fruit on the masterpiece. Meat. Lots of meat: pepperoni, sausage, Canadian bacon, whatever. Maybe some cheese, too," she smiled.

"Okay, meat it is. And what does your
daughter
like?" He phrased it that way just to see the little tweak of her mouth, and he wasn't disappointed. It tweaked.

"She's the veggie girl. Pile them on. On second thought, I'm not sure about her friends. Maybe you should ask. Or I will."

Before she had a chance, he bounded toward the stairs. "You look up Central Market Pizza, I'll take orders," he called over his shoulder.

Jillian snapped her fingers and flinched at his preemptive pizza strike as he ran up those stairs before she got a chance. Let's hope Carly really did like veggies.

She hated this whole deception. Maybe she should give it up and tell Dean the truth. He sure deserved it. She liked Dean. She liked him a whole lot. If she'd met him at a different time in her life, she might have gone for him.

But here she was, impersonating her sister, teetering on a crack-up, and only in town for another

week, if it was okay with Carly which she was sure it would be.

She'd really boxed herself into a corner where Dean was concerned. Maybe she could still salvage him for her sister to start up with when she got back.

How strange would that be? Impersonating her sister on a one-night date was one thing. But a full two weeks would leave her and Dean with some background. She'd have to try and keep track of it to tell her sister about. Jillian started to get a headache again, trying to sort it all out. But one thing she knew: She felt happy. That was weird. She was happy that she'd have an extra week here at the house, and . . . with Dean.

She heard girl giggles from upstairs. Probably Carly blowing her cover.

"So let me get this straight. You, Carly, hate all vegetables on pizza and love pepperoni. You, Ashley, hate mushrooms and are fine with pepperoni, Bri-anna and Emily hate everything and only want cheese? Did I get that right?" Dean crossed his arms and watched the three girls sitting cross-legged on the bed, devoid of its plastic covering.

"Yup, that covers it," Carly answered.

"Okay, half pepperoni, half cheese, coming up. I assume any soda will do?"

"Pretty much." Brianna and Ashley did simulcast answers.

Funny how they all said the same phrases. Dean smiled. This visit to the land of teenagers had been very enlightening.

"So, Dean, what's next for my room?" Carly asked.

"I think it all falls under the realm of decorating at this point. The paint is dry, the molding's replaced. It's in your
mom's
hands now."

They all fell apart laughing. Carly kicked Bri-anna in the foot and made a face.

"Thanks, Dean, we'll fold up the plastic stuff. Yell when it's pizza time, okay?"

"I can hang that curtain rod for you after I order the pizza."

"Okay, thanks." Carly got up off the bed. "Come on, you promised to help, you bums." She pulled Emily's leg toward the side of the bed. The two buddies continued to squeal.

Dean figured he'd learned enough. He gave Carly a little salute and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. But he paused for a minute.

"You bozos, I told you to play it cool. Have you
no
self-control?" Carly's voice carried through the door.

"Absolutely none," one of the girls replied, then all he heard was more teenage hysterics, so he headed back down the stairs.

His lady in paint-spattered tenny runners abruptly finished her second phone call. As soon

as he came into view, she snapped her cell shut quickly.

"Find that phone number?" he asked.

"Yes, here." She handed him a sticky note with the phone number on it. Her handwriting was very neat:
Central Market Pizza,
then the phone number.

"Thanks." He went to the old-style harvest gold wall phone and rang up the order desk. "Yes, two large, one meat-lover's special, one half pepperoni and half cheese." He glanced Jillian's way and saw her sigh. She headed back out to the waterside deck.

Dean finished his call and started to clean up. As he stacked paint equipment next to the big laundry sink in the utility room he looked up and found an old plastic tablecloth on an upper shelf. He'd make a nice picnic outside for the girls and . .. let's see, what should he call her? Aunt somebody. She'd be the aunt. This should be interesting.

He went outside with the tablecloth and proceeded to cover up the old wooden picnic table with the two attached side benches. "We'll dine alfresco. Is beer okay?"

"We probably shouldn't in front of a bunch of impressionable teenagers. Let's drink soda, and later we'll have one." She shielded her eyes and looked at him from her reclining position. "Thanks for doing this. I'm not much of a cook."

He kept any comments he had to himself. He'd noticed a clear absence of dinner magic happening this week, but during a remodel, things were like that, so he'd figured he wasn't one to judge. Although he remembered that when it had come time to make chicken nuggets during the little kids' last hour, she'd had a momentary pause over how the oven worked. Strange little things were beginning to make sense, now.

"Soda it is. Now you promised we'd have a straight-up talk about the house. Can you handle it?"

"I think I can shorten that talk up. Let's add another week and see what we can get done. I'm not expecting miracles anymore."

Dean was surprised. And after all that crazy time-crunch talk she'd done? "Change of plans?"

"Yes, thank God. We'll sit down tomorrow morning with a cup of coffee and revamp our to-do list, okay?"

"I'm going to hang a curtain rod in Carly's room. It will only take me a few minutes. Just relax."

"Thanks, Dean, I appreciate that."

He watched her lean back on the lounger and close her eyes again. If it weren't for the fact that there were people in the house, he would lean over and kiss her right now, just to see what Sleeping Beauty might do.

There was a purely male animal part of him that

was imagining having her at this moment. He was glad to feel that that part of him was still alive and well.

The pizza tasted so good that she actually relaxed. Obviously she needed to eat more. The whole picnic pizza dinner thing had been a great idea, and she was surprised how well Dean handled teenagers. Which just went to show how much of a favor she'd be doing her sister by leaving Dean ready to date.

She was exhausted from trying to keep her lies straight and feeling extra guilty the nicer Dean got. It was a great relief when the girls decided to walk down to the Alamo Theater for a movie. At least she didn't have to pretend to be Carly's mom for the rest of the evening.

She and Dean couldn't seem to tear themselves away from each other. They'd talked about art for at least an hour. They'd talked about his former girlfriend, which was very sad.

Jillian had skillfully avoided her own life story or even her sister Jana Lee's and instead talked about her thoughts regarding the house. They'd drawn up lists on yellow legal pads, and he'd sketched out a few ideas. He was good at that.

She found it very interesting that Dean seemed to have an uncanny ability to understand what she was getting at in regards to concepts and thoughts.

Except when she'd decided to strip the popcorn off the upstairs bedroom ceilings and he'd yelled at her and said she should have decided that first, not after they painted, and it was an ugly job, but
could
be done. And
would
look better. She'd laughed as he'd come around to agreeing with her.

They were still nibbling on the leftover pizza slices and talking when the girls came home. The teenagers went straight for Carly's room, where they were all spending the night. Jillian wasn't sure how they'd manage to make room for themselves, but fifteen-year-olds were resourceful.

"You've got pizza sauce on your chin." Dean reached over and wiped her face with a paper napkin, which made her jump with surprise. "I didn't mean to scare you. You're kind of high-strung, aren't you?" He took another bite of pizza and raised an eyebrow at her simultaneously.