by Susan Fox
Those words sent a small shiver through Maura. Her grade twelve friend, Sally, always used to say, “Come on, girlfriend, loosen up and let your hair down.” Sometimes, Maura let herself be persuaded, and often they’d had a great time. But not on prom night . . .
“That Jesse looks like a whole lot of fun,” Sophie Rudnicki was saying. She started to walk away, saying over her shoulder, “You coming, Hilda?”
The two elderly women bustled away, arguing over what kind of man made the best husband.
Maura knew the answer to that question: The man you were most compatible with.
She took her leave of her other lunch companions, musing about whether she was totally uptight and stodgy. She had fun, didn’t she? She watched old movies, cooked nice meals, enjoyed a glass of wine, and she had a pink geranium to put on her windowsill. Or, if those things were her idea of fun, did that just go to prove how stodgy she was? She had a feeling that was what Sally would say.
People who take risks are simply foolish, and poor planners. That’s what Agnes and Timothy always said. And they were right that avoiding risks was wise, and letting her hair down had proved to be a bad idea. Still, a woman shouldn’t let herself be crippled by inhibitions.
She was glad when, as she passed the reception desk where Lizzie Gilmore and Virginia Canfield were talking to Ming-mei, Lizzie flagged her down and interrupted her train of thought. “Have you seen the furniture Ming-mei picked out?”
“No. Has it arrived?”
She followed the two older women to the courtyard door and gazed after them as they went outside. A couple of old dears swung happily on the new swing set and half a dozen others—including Sophie Rudnicki and Hilda Jenssen—sat in green chairs with colorful padding. Various coffee cups and glasses littered two green tables. The courtyard was a completely different place than it had been a day ago.
One thing she’d say for Jesse, he didn’t let the visitors keep him from his work. He kept planting flowers while the old-timers chatted. He looked up when Lizzie and Virginia joined the group and said something that made them laugh.
Maura went back to the reception desk. “Good work, Ming-mei. The furniture looks great and our residents are enjoying it.”
The young woman flushed. “Thank you, Maura.”
Maura felt a warm glow as she walked back to her office. Maybe she wasn’t so awful at human relations after all. For some reason, Jesse’s presence, disturbing as it was, had made her more sensitive to the people around her.
It was such a lovely day that she eased her window open. When she got back to work, she was aware of the buzz of conversation and the occasional laugh. It was companionable, and it lifted her spirits.
Jesse was used to working with a construction crew. Having a bunch of seniors hanging around was different, but he kind of got into it. They didn’t really interfere with his work, just occasionally told him what plants should go where. It was a kick to hear them laughing together.
He eyeballed the bedding plants that remained unplanted, then glanced up at the sun. Must be around two thirty. Setting up the swing set, then the new tables and chairs, had set him back. He’d hoped to finish the planting and also fertilize and water the lawn today, but that wasn’t going to happen. At least he ought to be able to get all the young plants in the ground if he stayed a little late.
“Jesse?”
It was Maura calling him. He glanced around, seeing that she’d shoved her office window wide open and was beckoning him. He peeled off his gloves, wiped a hand across his sweaty brow, and headed over.
“You’re making good progress,” she said.
“Thanks.” He was glad she’d gotten over being mad about the bike ride.
The windowsill was only a couple of feet high. Inside, she sat sideways on it, swinging those slim legs to one side so her skirt rode up a little. He lounged against the wall of the building, checking out her fine knees and bare forearms.
“I was thinking about what we should line up for your next job.” She sounded excited, which brought his gaze to her face in a hurry. Her eyes were sparkling.
“Yeah?” It was nice talking here, just the two of them, rather than in the middle of a bunch of seniors.
“You know that pool I mentioned? The waterfall and so on?”
“Yeah.”
“You said you’d be able to do the work.”
“Sure. But I thought you didn’t have the money.”
“When the Board discussed the idea, we figured we’d have to pay for a landscape design person and the labor, as well as the supplies. If you can do the work . . .” Her head was tilted to one side, her face glowed with enthusiasm, and the sun shot sparks off her hair. She made such a damned pretty picture that he had trouble concentrating on what she was saying.
“Sure can. And you don’t need a designer.” You looked at a piece of land, thought about the sun and shade, considered who was going to use it, then the pictures formed in your head. “We can figure it out.”
“Really?”
“Maybe ask Virginia, too. She’s got some real good ideas. Used to have a huge yard. And volunteered at one of those botanical gardens.”
“I do remember her saying that. So, how much do you figure the materials would cost? And the plants and so on? I can run some numbers and present a proposal at the next Board meeting.”
“Depends on what we’re talking about.” He turned and studied the courtyard. “It’d help if I could sketch something out.”
“Just a minute.” She hopped off the windowsill into her office, rummaged around in a cabinet, and returned with a pad of paper and one of those click-click pens she was so fond of. She handed them through the window.
He accepted them willingly. He was fine with sketching, just so long as he didn’t have to write any words. “Wanna come out and talk about it?”
It wouldn’t have surprised him if she went standoffish again, but instead she looked pleased. “All right.” She began to close the window.
A devil—the same one who’d invited her on a bike ride—made him say, “Why take the long way?” He reached for the window frame and tugged it in his direction. She’d turned down the ride; how would she react to the window?
She stared at the frame, her eyes glazing over the way they sometimes did.
He glanced down, too, to see what she was looking at. His big brown hand rested close to her pale, delicate one. The contrast was startling and pretty much illustrated the difference between the two of them. But it was sexy, too . . .
Her skin looked so feminine, so tempting . . .
If he moved his hand just an inch, he would touch her. His vision blurred . . .
His dark hand stroked the back of hers, soft as a flower petal. Unable to stop, he traced a path up her bare arm, to her shoulder. Somehow her blouse had disappeared. He spread his hand across her throat, feeling the fine bones just under that creamy skin, the pulse beating wildly. Beating for him.
Boldly he moved down to where the skin was even paler. No camisole, no bra to hide her small, lovely breasts. The top curve of her breast was so soft, yet so resilient under his fingers. Her nipple was rosy. When he touched it with his rough finger, he tried to be gentle. It tightened, formed into a pebbly bud. She moaned softly.
His hand splayed open, covering that whole creamy breast now. A brown starfish on a white beach. He stared mesmerized at the picture the two of them made together, himself and Maura. She looked down, too, and murmured his name . . .
“Jesse? Jesse, are you all right?”
He jerked, and his vision cleared. Staring down, he saw their hands, close to each other on the window frame. Man, he’d gone off into one of those sex dreams.
“Did you get too much sun?” she asked anxiously. “Maybe you should come inside.”
Too much sun? Oh, yeah, he was hot, very hot. But not from the sunshine. “I’m fine,” he said gruffly.
“If you’re sure.”
“Yeah. Let’s get on with thi
s planning stuff. Come on and hop out.”
“I don’t hop out of windows,” she said stiffly.
“Let down your hair for once. Maybe you’ll like it.”
Her eyes widened in surprise and her cheeks colored. He wondered if she was remembering that kiss. She’d liked it—he was sure of that—before she’d decided it was a stupid idea. She muttered something under her breath. He didn’t quite catch it, but it sounded like she’d said, “Liking it’s the problem.”
Then, surprising him, she shoved the window wide.
He stood back. She was wearing a skirt. This should be fun.
She sat down with those long legs tucked neatly together. Then she kinked them sideways, still together, straightened them and swung them over the sill, bumping one knee against the window frame. Yeah, she was klutzy, which was kind of cute for such a classy, buttoned-up woman.
He offered his hand, then realized it was a dumb thing to do, considering how grubby he was.
For a moment, she just stared at it.
He was about to pull it back when she reached for it.
Her slim, cool, elegant hand slid into his rough one, and he felt a shock of awareness. Awareness of her as a woman, and awareness that she was consciously, voluntarily touching him. She didn’t need his assistance, but she was accepting his gesture.
She stood up and gently tugged her hand out of his. “Thank you,” she said, not looking at him.
He cleared his throat. “Welcome.” Then he said, “Virginia’s over there on the swing. Want to get her opinion?”
“Why not?” She sounded almost reckless. “Let’s talk to all of them. It’s their garden, after all.”
Together they walked over to join the group of seniors. Maura said, “Jesse and I have been talking about doing some more improvements to the garden. Don’t get too excited because I’ll need to draw up a budget and get Board approval, but we’d like your input. Jesse, why don’t you tell them what we’ve got in mind?”
Another surprise, her treating him with respect. He squared his shoulders, determined to prove he deserved it.
Half an hour later, they had a plan. He’d drawn out a sketch, and Maura—wearing her sexy glasses, damn her—had made a list of the things they would need. “Now you can call the garden center and get a quote,” he told her.
She took off her glasses and tucked them in her pocket. “Would you talk to them? You’re so much more knowledgeable.”
“Glad to.”
He was amused that she led the way back across the grass to her office window, not to the door that led into the building. Awkwardly she swung over the sill and turned around just as he began to follow her.
He was nearly on top of her before he could stop his forward momentum. He lost his balance and she raised her hand, catching his upper arm, steadying him. He sensed the gesture was automatic. If she’d had time to think about it she probably wouldn’t have chosen to grip his sweaty arm, but he had to admit her hand felt good there. Far too good.
“Thanks,” he muttered. Then, “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Her hand lingered and her eyes glazed over.
Suddenly he wondered if she, too, had steamy fantasies about the two of them.
“Ms. Mahoney?” he said softly.
She jerked, gave a gaspy little breath, and broke the contact. Turning her back on him, she walked over to her desk and took the chair behind it, gesturing him to one across from her. Putting the desk between them. Reminding him—and maybe herself?—of the nature of their relationship.
He had to remember, if things went wrong with Maura Mahoney, he’d blow his community service and end up in jail. Lust was lust, and he could fucking well control it.
She clicked a few keys on her computer. “I’m looking up the phone number.” She frowned, muttered, “Can’t see a darned thing,” and slipped her glasses back on her nose.
He’d pretty much figured out by now that she really did need the glasses; she wasn’t deliberately trying to torture him. The effect was the same, though. His jeans were getting uncomfortably tight.
He sat forward in his chair and rested his elbows on her desk. Could a guy get fired if his boss found out he got a boner most every time he looked at her?
“All right, here’s the number,” she said, reaching for her phone. A moment later, she spoke into it. “This is Maura Mahoney from Cherry Lane. We’re a seniors residential facility. I bought some things there this morning, and we’re thinking about doing some more elaborate landscaping. I’m looking for a quote to present to the Board. Let me put you onto our, um, gardener, and he can tell you what we’re looking for.”
She handed the phone to Jesse and he took it, playing it safe and making sure their hands didn’t touch. “Hi,” he said. “Who’m I talking to?”
“Jesse, is that you? It’s Chris.”
“Hey, Chris.” He’d gotten to be friends with her and her family over the past year or so. “Twice in one day, huh?”
“The plants get there okay?”
“You bet. So listen, let me tell you what we’re thinking of.”
Maura shoved her notebook across to him and he saw another of her lists. He ignored it and leaned back in the chair, his body back to normal now that he was concentrating on business. “Lookin’ for one of those premade pools that you sink into the ground. Want to set it up with a little fountain, recirculating water, you know the kind of thing.”
Maura watched as Jesse talked to the blonde named Chris. Twice in one day. Would they be adding a third time, tonight? Just what had Chris said to elicit Jesse’s enthusiastic “You bet.”
Still, he was sticking to business and seemed to know what he was talking about. He had a great memory, too, never needing to refer to her list.
“Well, that’s great, Chris,” he said. “Really appreciate it.”
The woman said something that made him laugh and duck his head. “Oh, don’t go saying stuff like that.”
Maura gritted her teeth and reminded herself it was no concern of hers. When he hung up, she said coolly, “You got a quote?”
He told her the figure and she wrote it down. “That doesn’t sound bad at all.” She was astonished it was so low.
A knock sounded at the open window.
Jesse got up and ambled over. “What’s up, Fred?”
Fred Dykstra peered in. “We’ve been talking.”
Maura went to join them.
“About this garden we’re planning,” the old man clarified. His phrasing made her glad she’d included the residents in the planning session. She had Jesse to thank.
“Go ahead,” she told Fred.
“It’s likely to be pretty expensive.”
“Jesse just got us a quote and it’s not too bad. The Board may go for it.”
“Got a better idea.” He grinned at her.
“What do you mean?”
“Some of us have a little money we’d like to put into it.”
“But . . . Cherry Lane pays for repairs, maintenance, improvements. Your money is for you, for whatever you want to spend it on.” Most of the residents were far from wealthy.
“Like a fine garden to sit out in.”
“I can’t let you—”
“Listen to the man,” Jesse said.
Since when did he issue the orders? Still, she owed Fred the courtesy of listening. “Go ahead.”
“I’m doing just dandy when it comes to money. Some folks here aren’t, but lots of us have a little extra. There’s only so many ways to spend it. Now we’ve got this garden happening. We’ve helped plan it and we’d like to help pay for it.”
“But . . .”
She jumped when Jesse touched her arm. “Don’t have to decide now,” he said. “Let’s everyone think about it for a day or two.”
She frowned. She wasn’t going to change her mind. But his hand was still there, resting on her forearm, and her brain was turning to mush. “All right.”
Fred tipped an imaginary cap. “Goo
d advice, young man. Now I must go and have a little nap so I’ll be fresh for dinner with the kids. It’s been a fine, busy day!” He whistled as he walked back across the grass, leaning only slightly on his cane.
Maura turned to Jesse. “I can’t . . .” But his hand was on her bare arm, and his body, all that virile masculinity, was just inches away from her. Her mind stalled. What was it she couldn’t do?
Oh, yes, she couldn’t lean toward him, press herself up against that hard, muscled body. Run her finger through the rip that exposed a section of brown chest. She really couldn’t touch the bare thigh, revealed by another rip that had expanded since morning. Run her finger up his inseam to explore . . . “I can’t,” she murmured again.
“You can,” he said in a rough voice. “You know you want to.”
That was the truth. But wait.
She forced her gaze away from his thigh and up to his face, where she saw an expression that a more experienced woman might have been able to read. What were they talking about?
He cleared his throat, glanced away, took a step back. “They want to do it,” he said. “It makes them feel like the garden is really theirs.”
Garden. Oh, yes, the garden. He was still talking about it, while she’d gone off on a flight of fantasy.
She replayed his words. Was her brain completely addled or did they make sense? “There’s no precedent for this,” she said in a worried voice. “I don’t know what the Board would say.”
“Don’t tell ’em.”
The notion was absurd. She aspired to be general manager. She wasn’t about to go behind the Board’s back. “You don’t understand how things work. For example, there will be legal implications to consider.”
He snorted. “A lot of legal hassle that only makes lawyers rich. These folks know what they want to do. So, let them.”
If only it were that straightforward. “I’ll think about it.” But she’d only proceed if she had the Board’s approval and all the I’s had been dotted and T’s crossed.
Jesse’s disregard for lawyers made her remember that she still didn’t know what offense he’d committed. Despite his whole James Dean, Rambo vibe, she was having increasing trouble imagining him as any kind of criminal. But he was, or he wouldn’t be here.