Close to Heaven

by Pamela Clare

  “How much does it weigh?”

  “Two-ten.”

  Two-hundred and ten pounds? “Oh, hell, no. You’re on your own.”

  Chuckling, he lay back again, raised the barbell, and pumped out nine slow reps, exhaling as he lifted, his pecs bulging with the effort.

  Rain’s knees went weak.

  Joe willed himself to focus on the burn in his pecs and triceps and not the beautiful woman who stood just a few feet away, staring at him as if she were starving and he were dinner. Why hadn’t he thought to wear a shirt?

  He was used to being alone in the house. That’s why.

  He finished this set, lowered the barbell back into its rest, then drew in a breath, resolved to behave no differently than he would if he were lifting weights with Rico. Hairy, bald, tattooed Rico. Rico who belched like a damned hog after a good meal. Rico who’d kept his beard while Joe had been forced…

  Joe sat up, stared at her.

  Damn!

  Rain had turned away from him and was doing another set of bicep curls, her blue leggings clinging to her sweet ass like a second skin, leaving no doubt that she wasn’t wearing a thing beneath them. The thought sent a surge of blood toward his groin.

  Oh, no. No, no. He was not getting a hard-on. Without a shirt, he had no way to hide it. His running pants weren’t tight, but she’d be sure to notice.

  He stood, turned away from her, and croaked out words of encouragement. “You’re doing great. Much better.”

  The rest of his workout was agony—a sweet kind of agony. He did his best to keep his eyes off her ass and her cleavage, but it was pointless. Even the littlest things, the smallest details, turned him on. The flush in her cheeks. The bead of sweat that trickled down her nape. The delicate sweep of her eyebrows. The notch at the base of her throat. The light in her green eyes. And it came to him in a rush that it wasn’t her ass or her breasts that had him burning up. It was she herself.

  It was Rain.

  He shut that thought away and coached her through the rest of the workout, spotting for her when she bench-pressed the barbell without weights, showing her how to do dumbbell flys and pushups, lifting her to the bar so that she could attempt to do a pull-up. He had to be a masochist because he was enjoying this—the recklessness of being near her, the heat in his blood, the knowledge that he was walking the razor’s edge.

  You’ll be fucking your fist in the shower, dude.

  Yeah. So what? That was nothing new.

  He was feeling pleased with himself for his self-control when she caught the toe of her shoe on the edge of the floor mat and tripped, falling face-first toward the weight rack. It was instinct to reach out and catch her… instinct to draw her against him… instinct to lower his mouth to hers.

  God, yes.

  The moment their lips met, the lust in his blood ignited, and he forgot. He forgot that he hadn’t meant to kiss her. He forgot he was her boss. He forgot everything but Rain—her soft lips, the lush curves of her body, the sweet scent of her skin.

  Oh, she could kiss, her mouth as ravenous as his, stealing control of the kiss from him, taking as much as she gave. She whimpered, slid her hands up his sweat-slick chest and locked them behind his neck.

  He reclaimed control of the kiss, reaching with both hands to cup her luscious ass, crushing her against him, her body pliant in his arms.

  Do you know what you’re doing, man?

  Somewhere in his mind, alarm bells were ringing, but they were drowned out by the roar of his pulse, years of suppressed desire for her slamming through his veins. She gave a little hop and wrapped her legs around his waist. He moaned into her mouth and turned, walking her to the wall, pressing her against it with his weight. He ground himself against her, his cock aching to be inside her. Needing more, he reached up, cupped one of her breasts through her T-shirt, the nub of her nipple hard against his palm.

  You’re really going to fuck Rain against the wall in your smelly gym?

  He ignored the thought, kept kissing her, his thumb teasing that nipple.

  She deserves better than this.

  Okay, true. He could take her upstairs, make love to her on his bed. Lots of room. Soft sheets. Plus, he had condoms there.

  You’re her boss.

  That thought pierced the fog of pheromone in his brain.

  He dragged his mouth from hers.

  She whimpered in protest. “Don’t stop.”

  “We can’t, Rain. I can’t.” He lowered her to her feet, stepped back, his body still burning for her. “I’m sorry.”

  She hugged her arms around herself. “I don’t understand. Lots of couples meet at work. If it’s consensual, what’s the problem?”

  “I’m your employer. That’s the problem.”

  She glared at him. “You sound like a damned broken record. Do you think anyone would hold that against us?”

  “I don’t care what other people think.” How could he make her understand? “When a man starts breaking his own rules, what does he have left? Besides, I’m ten years older than you are. You could have any man—”

  “Do you see me trying to sleep with just any man?”

  “No.”

  “Do you know why that is?”

  Was this a trick question? “I guess you’re waiting for the right one.”

  “Oh, Joe!” She shook her head. “You admit that you want me, but the fact that I work for you means you will never have sex with me. Did I get that right?”

  He narrowed his gaze. “Yes.”

  Where was she going with this?

  She nodded, hurt and frustration naked in her eyes. “Okay. Fine. I quit.”

  She waited for a moment, then she turned and walked out of the gym.

  Rain made it to the kitchen before Joe caught up with her.

  “You don’t mean that, Rain.”

  “Oh, yes, I do.” She didn’t turn to look at him but reached for a pen and the pad of paper he kept on the kitchen counter. She scrawled a hasty resignation on the page, tore it off, and handed it to him. “Take my job, and shove it.”

  He glanced at her note, fury on his face. “You can’t just quit.”

  “Oh, yes, I can.” She fell back on the orientation speech she gave new servers. “Colorado is an at-will state, which means that an employment arrangement can be terminated by either party with no notice.”

  She hurried toward the stairs, wanting to get away from him before her fury dissolved into tears.

  “That’s not what I mean.” He stepped into her path. “How are you going to support yourself?”

  She poked his chest with her finger. “That’s not your problem, Mr. Former Boss.”

  “Jesus, Rain.” He put his hands on his hips, gave a slow shake of his head. “This is exactly why I shouldn’t have kissed you. Sex ruins work relationships.”

  “We haven’t had sex!” She pushed past him, continued toward the stairs.

  “I don’t want you to quit, Rain.”

  She stopped, turned to face him. “Why not?”

  He stammered after an answer. “Why? Well, you…. you’re one of my most valued employees. You’re the heart and soul of Knockers.”

  His answer hurt.

  “I was one of your most valued employees. Knockers will go on without me.” She turned away from him and continued up the stairs. “As soon as the roads open up, I’ll go stay with Bob and Kendra. They offered me Lexi’s old room.”

  “Now you’re leaving my house, too?” There was genuine hurt in his voice.

  This time she didn’t stop. She didn’t want to see his face. “Yes.”

  Stunned silence followed her to her bedroom. She slammed the door, threw herself down on her bed. Her body still thrummed with arousal, her lips tingling from his kisses. But he cared more about the fact that she’d quit than the fact that she wanted him—and he wanted her.

  No man could kiss a woman like he had kissed her unless he meant it. That’s what she told herself anyway. But she’d never be
en a good judge of men.

  What was she going to do now? She still had her part-time job cleaning rooms at the inn. It didn’t pay nearly as much as Knockers, but it was something to tide her over. She’d planned on giving Kendra her notice at the end of January. She would have paid Lark’s last tuition payment by then. She’d only taken the job to help Lark with school. Now she would have to keep that job.

  She glanced toward the bedroom door. She’d hoped he would follow her upstairs and ask to talk so that they could cut past all the bull and get to the heart of this, which was that she loved him and he ...

  Did he love her? Lark said he did.

  Why don’t you just ask him?

  Then she heard the sound of an engine.

  She hopped from the bed and glanced outside in time to see him ride out of the garage on his snowmobile. He’d left her by herself rather than face this.

  Oh, Joe.

  Heart aching, she filled the bathtub, turned on the gas fireplace, and settled in the tub with Silas’ journal.

  March 5, 1874

  Our new sheriff, Kit Taylor, came to visit me today. He’s a Cornishman like the rest of them but one who speaks clear English. He said he was concerned that my men are running rough-shod over the good people of Caribou and Scarlet Springs. I offered him a drink, which he refused, and assured him that whatever stories he’d heard had been exaggerated. He laid before me claims of a bruised and bleeding scarlet lady who told him my men used her, beat her, and then failed to pay her.

  “Is our sheriff a pimp, charged with collecting a whore’s fee?” I asked.

  Oh, what a dour man! He did not laugh or even crack a smile. “A workin’ girl has a right to get paid same as any man who works in your mine. I won’t tolerate your hired men raisin’ havoc in my town.”

  His town? Oh, the audacity. I was of a mind to throw him out on his ear, but he is the law. Instead, I informed him that there would be no town without me and made certain he knew that everyone in Scarlet owed their wealth and well-being to me, including the whores. I told him that my hired men are necessary only because this country is overrun with thieves and outlaws. In truth, they serve to keep the miners in line, for I cannot trust Hawke to do so.

  “I’ve said my piece,” Sheriff Taylor said. “You watch your men. We’ve enough sorrow and hardship to face with this epidemic. We don’t need them stirrin’ up trouble.”

  I told him that I was not insensitive to the current suffering as I had lost a child, too. True, she was a bastard and only a girl, but Jenny was quite distraught. Taylor offered his condolences and wished me a good day.

  I watched through my window as he left and spied him talking with Hawke as if the two of them were friends. I like that not at all.

  As it happened, Hawke was on his way to speak with me. It seems this epidemic of scarlet fever that killed Jenny’s child has hit miners hard with scarcely a family in Caribou or Scarlet Springs that hasn’t lost at least one child. “Tobias Stephens and his wife Elizabeth have lost ten of their fifteen children. Poor Elizabeth. I’ve ne’er seen a woman so distraught.”

  I told him that I had lost a child to the fever just last week. Sometimes one must appear to commiserate if one wishes to control.

  He removed his hat, something he never does out of deference to me. “Jenny’s daughter? I’d not heard. I’m sorry. It’s a good thing you sent your son back east, aye? It’s safer there than here in these mountains.”

  I asked if he had any children.

  He said that he had eight—five boys and three girls.

  The lower classes do breed like rabbits.

  “God has spared them all,” he said.

  I asked him what he wished from me. He said that the miners hoped I could make some provision for those with sick children, as the cost of so many doctor’s visits have left some families with an empty purse. They also hope that I will help those who’ve lost children by contributing granite for grave markers.

  “Most families can scarce afford the cost of one headstone, let alone three or ten at once,” he said.

  I cannot see why I should spend my coin on gravestones for other men’s children. If one is poor, one must suffice with a simple wooden cross or bury the dead in unmarked graves. I did not say this, however, as the sound of Jenny’s weeping was still fresh in my mind. More than that, Mr. Craddock has brought me news of grumblings and discontent since I started making the miners pay for their own candles. I discerned here a chance to win back their favor.

  I assured Hawke that I would find some means of enticing more doctors to the miners’ camp and would pay the cost of their visits for families who could not afford it. Then I shouted to Mr. Craddock that he should have a stonecutter brought up from Boulder City, along with granite for headstones for all the children lost to this plague.

  Hawke could scarce hide the surprise on his face at this. He bowed his head and thanked me repeatedly, then hurried off to tell the men.

  I’m certain I shall not like the expense that this incurs, but bereaved men can be dangerous. Better to spend the coin and pacify the miners that way than to be forced to hire more men.

  On my way home, I stopped at Belle’s. I had asked her to procure a gift to give to Jenny to assuage her loss. As strange as it may seem, I care more for Jenny, who is little more than my private whore, than I ever did for my wife. Jenny is quite fair, but more than that she knows her place. She seeks ever to please me, where Louisa sought always to assert her own interests. Louisa came from a wealthy family and believed herself to be above me on the social ladder, while Jenny knows that everything from the roof over her head to the food in her belly depends on my good will. She is pregnant again, and this time she assures me it will be a son. It is of no consequence either way, as I could never marry her.

  Rain’s heart ached for the miners. She couldn’t imagine giving birth to fifteen children and watching ten of them die. Her heart ached for Jenny, too. She couldn’t imagine sleeping with Silas, either, and wondered what Jenny would have done had she been given any real choice. The bastard had coerced her into sex, ruined her reputation at a time when women paid a terrible price for such things, and then kept her in a cottage, giving her gifts and food and shelter in exchange for using her body. Thanks to Joe and his big spoilers, Rain knew how Jenny’s story ended.

  Rain climbed out of the tub, dried off, then crawled, still naked, beneath a blanket on a chaise near the fire, skimming through boring entries about Silas’ earnings and his accounts to read more of the personal history. She stopped when she heard an approaching engine. Blanket wrapped around her, she ran to the window and saw Joe’s Land Rover disappear into the garage, towing the snowmobile behind him.

  Her heart sank.

  He’d gotten his SUV out of the ditch. Life would be going back to normal.

  It was time for her to leave.

  Chapter 9

  Joe pulled slowly into the garage, watching the snowmobile in his side mirror. He parked, unhooked the chain he’d borrowed from Taylor, then rode the snowmobile inside and parked it. At least that was done.

  News had spread that he’d gone off the road—of course, it had—and Taylor had texted him, asking if he needed help. Joe met Taylor and Moretti at the pile of snow that was his SUV, and the three of them had dug it out, chained it to Taylor’s vehicle, and towed it out of the ditch. At one point, Joe had been certain the damned thing was going to roll, but at last, they’d gotten it up on the road.

  The men had waved off his thanks.

  “Hey, I miss my brew,” Taylor had said.

  Moretti had nodded. “Don’t forget the pizza.”

  Joe had promised the men he’d open tomorrow if the weather held. “Your next meal is on me.”

  Both men had asked about Rain. Joe had told them she was fine and had left it at that. What had happened between them was no one’s business.

  Joe closed the garage door, stepped into the mudroom, and stripped off his gloves, coat, and snow boots
. The physical exertion had helped him work off his frustration and that lingering sense of arousal. Now all he wanted was a hot meal and a shower.

  Rain wasn’t in the kitchen or the living room. Maybe she was taking a nap—or reading Silas’ damned journal in the library. He hoped she’d come to her senses. He couldn’t believe she truly wanted to quit.

  Jesus!

  How would she support herself? What would she do?

  Joe couldn’t stand the thought of her leaving Knockers, but he had an even harder time imagining Scarlet Springs without her. What did she stand to gain? Everyone loved her here. In any other town, she’d be among strangers, and he would never see her.

  He made his way upstairs, his mind on a hot shower. His gaze fell on her closed bedroom door, and he couldn’t resist. He wanted to make things right.

  He walked to her room, knocked on the door. “Rain? Can we talk?”

  “Sure.”

  He opened the door and froze, his heart slamming into his sternum.

  She stood beside her bed, completely naked.

  It was in his mind to look away or step out and close the door, but he stood rooted to the spot, heat surging to his groin, his gaze moving over her from her lush breasts with their full pink nipples to the curve of her hips to her gently rounded belly to the dark blond curls of the landing strip between her thighs.

  Holy fuck.

  She turned, walked to the closet, giving him a view of her delicious ass. There were small, dark bruises on her creamy skin. Had he done that?

  She didn’t so much as look his way. “Did you want something?”

  “You …” He cleared his throat. “You didn’t say you were naked.”

  “You didn’t ask.”

  It was then he realized what she was doing. She was taking clothes out of her closet and packing them back into the plastic bags.

  “You’re really doing this?”

  “Yes.” She walked back to the bed, T-shirts draped over her arm. She bent over, folded the shirts, and slid them into the bag, her breasts swaying as she worked, the bright colors of her tattoos a contrast to her pale skin. “Bob said he’d call Austin and ask him to come pick me up.”