Body Heat

by Susan Fox

  “Well, yeah. I mean, not that there isn’t a whole lot to see, but she just sounds like such a different type of person than you. Than us.”

  “She is, in some ways. But still, we kind of, you know, connect.”

  “Have the hots for each other.”

  “Yeah, but more.”

  “Huh.”

  He’d finished his cone and she handed hers over, half-finished. He began to lick raspberry sorbet.

  “Seems to me,” she said, “if I found a great guy, that’d be more important than my job.”

  Would he give up his job for a woman? Yeah, maybe, but . . . “You or me, we could get other jobs. You’d easily find another salon. I could find another construction job. Maura’s, like, part of Cherry Lane. She loves the seniors and they love her. They’re friends, you know?”

  “I’m friends with the other girls at the salon, and with my clients. And you’re friends with the guys on your crew.”

  “Yeah, but there’s something different about Cherry Lane.” He felt it, too, almost like he was becoming part of a big family. For Maura, who had issues with her parents and didn’t seem to have a lot of other friends, he could see why the place was special to her. “And there’s the promotion she’s going for.”

  Con shrugged. “It’s still just a job. Life’s about other stuff.” She gestured toward Juanito, who was throwing a stick for the terrier. “Stuff like my kid. I’d give up any job—give up anything—for him. So would you.”

  He licked the last drops of melting sorbet and crunched the cone as she went on. “Look at you, Jesse, you’d have gone to jail to protect me. That’s what’s important in life. The people you love.”

  “Won’t argue with that.” And when he did find the right woman, she’d feel the same way.

  “I’m just saying, it’s safer to stick to your own kind. Remember Snotty Sybil, the one who drove the Jag? The one who tried to give you that Rolex watch?”

  Jesse winced. He’d thought he and Sybil liked each other, but he’d found out she saw him as her sex toy. Good enough to screw; good enough to boast about to her girlfriends at lunch—he knew, because she’d told him. But not good enough that she’d have lunch with him, out in public, when he invited her.

  “Maura’s not like that. Besides,” he added wryly, “she refuses to sleep with me.”

  “Okay, that’s good.”

  “Matter of opinion,” he grumbled. Though Con was right. At least he knew Maura was interested in him for more than sex.

  Consuela chuckled. “Yeah, good point. But she works at that seniors place, and she’s got you doing community service. Maybe she’s the do-gooder type, and she looks at you as her little charity project. Acting all nicey-nicey, but feeling all smart and superior. Like Nurse Nancy, a few years ago.”

  Did Con remember every woman he’d ever dated? “She’s not like that, either.”

  “Okay. But I still think it’s safer to stick to your own kind. Less chance of getting hurt.”

  Like Con was the expert on how not to get hurt. Still, what she said was the same thing he’d thought many times himself. It was good advice. He probably shouldn’t talk to his lawyer about changing his community service, not until he knew Maura better.

  Saturday, when Jesse rode his bike up the cherry-lined driveway to Cherry Lane, he thought what a difference a week made. Last week, he’d been dressed in fresh new clothes, feeling resentful about having to do community service.

  This week, he was a couple of hours later because he’d been working on Mrs. Wolchuk’s roof. His clothes were already grubby, the taste of Mrs. W’s fresh poppy seed cake was sweet on his tongue, and he was hungry to see Maura.

  When he got there, a smiling Gracie—had he actually once planned to ask her out?—greeted him. “Hi, Jesse. Maura has a couple of meetings today, so she can’t go to the garden center with you. But she left these.” She handed over a set of keys and a charge card. “She added your name to the list of drivers who’re insured to drive the van, so you can take Virginia to the garden center. Put everything on Cherry Lane’s card.”

  “Okay. Thanks.” He was happy Maura trusted him, but why wasn’t she there? Had she decided it was better to stay away from each other? “Meetings?”

  “Legal stuff, can you believe it, on a Saturday?”

  More waivers?

  “She said she’ll catch up with you later this afternoon.” He grinned. Sounded as if Maura wasn’t avoiding him, just busy.

  So he got busy, too, collecting Virginia and heading off to shop for plants and fish.

  Midafternoon, Jesse looked up from his work to see Maura coming across the lawn. Today she wore a chocolate-brown skirt and a filmy blouse the color of ripe peaches. A feminine blouse, not like her usual starchy shirts.

  She greeted him with a big smile and sparkling eyes, but talked only about the garden—until she ended with, “When you’re done for the day, would you come see me?”

  “You bet.” It was hard not to let his grin slant into a private one, but as usual a group of seniors was hanging around, listening to every word.

  Later, after a few more hours’ work and a dinner made up of Polish goodies Mrs. Wolchuk had packed for him, Jesse was building a natural-looking rockery to house the fountain. Maura came out again, this time almost running.

  He dropped the rock he was holding and rushed to meet her. “What’s wrong?”

  “There’s a burst pipe in Mr. and Mrs. Trotter’s bathroom and it’s flooding their apartment.”

  He wiped his hands on his jeans as the two of them hurried back across the courtyard. “You turned off the taps?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Under the sink?”

  “Yes, but the water’s still pouring out.”

  So a pipe must be broken behind the taps. “The shutoff valve for the apartment? Out in the hallway somewhere?”

  “The what?”

  “Get the tool kit from the storage room. I’ll go turn off the valve. Which apartment?”

  “It’s two oh three. Take the stairs at the end of that hall.” She pointed.

  “Right.” He took off at a run while she headed in the other direction.

  A couple minutes later, he’d shut off the water and was taking off his shoes at the open apartment door. “Ms. Mahoney sent me,” he told the anxious-faced elderly pair who greeted him. “I’ve shut off the water and I’ll fix you up as soon as I can.”

  A few steps in, the living room carpet squelched under his sock feet, so he stripped off his socks as well. “You weren’t home when the pipe burst?”

  Mr. Trotter, who had his arm around his wife, said, “We went down for dinner. When we came back, it was like this.”

  In the bathroom, Jesse saw that the cabinet top was littered haphazardly with cartons, bottles, and assorted crap that likely normally lived below the sink. Inside the open cabinet doors was another jumble of stuff, soaked now. Squatting, he located the broken pipe just beyond the cold water shutoff tap.

  He went back to the living room as Maura arrived with a big red tool kit. “It’s pipe fatigue,” he told them. “Got some old pipes there, and you shoved a lot of stuff under that sink. Pressed up against the pipe, bent it; eventually it broke.”

  “Told you you shouldn’t put so much stuff in that cabinet,” Mr. Trotter grumbled to his wife.

  “And I told you we needed to buy a wall cabinet, but did you listen?” she returned.

  Jesse stifled a grin and caught Maura doing the same. “Best thing to do,” he said, “is replace all the piping under the sink. Home center across the road should have all the stuff, and I can do it in an hour or so. But your carpet’s soaked. Need to get that dried out.”

  “How?” Maura asked.

  “Rent two or three industrial dehumidifiers. They suck out moisture big-time. But they’re really noisy and they’ll make the place hot and humid and smelly. Be best if you didn’t stay here tonight.”

  “We’ll put you up in a hotel,�
�� Maura told the Trotters, “at Cherry Lane’s expense.” She picked up the phone and booked them a room at an inn by the water, then Jesse told her who to call about dehumidifiers.

  As he put on his shoes to go to the home center, she said, “When you go past reception, would you ask Nedda to send someone to mop the bathroom floor?”

  “Sure.”

  Nedda. That was the sourpuss who alternated with Gracie and Ming-mei on the reception desk. The one who seemed to have a grudge against the world. When he relayed Maura’s message, the woman’s gaze was suspicious and she didn’t even nod.

  If she’d worked for him, he’d have fired her long ago. When he’d said that to Maura, she’d told him the woman was related to a Board member, so they had no option.

  When he got back with the piping, the rental company had arrived with the dehumidifiers. The Trotters had gone, the bathroom floor was clean and dry, and Maura said, “I’ll get out of your way. But thanks, Jesse. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  He gave her a teasing grin. “You just keep thinking that.”

  Their gazes met and her cheeks colored. Then she pressed a hand to her cheek. “Oh, in all the excitement I forgot. There’s something I want to talk to you about. When you’ve finished here, could you lock up, then tidy up whatever you were doing in the garden and come see me?” The sparkle he’d seen earlier was back in her eyes, so the something must be good.

  Had she maybe got the Board’s okay on the two of them going out? That’d be about the best news he could imagine. Waiting, being patient, didn’t suit him one bit. There might be no hope, long term, for a guy like him with a woman like Maura, but he needed to find out.

  Whistling, hopeful, he went about his work.

  After he’d cleared up the garden, he didn’t go knock on Maura’s window but took the time to wash up in the men’s room, with hot water and soap. Then, blood humming with anticipation, he headed to her office.

  He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Man, she looked great in that peach-colored blouse. All soft and approachable. He ached to cross behind her desk and kiss her. What would she do if he did? “You talk to the Board of Directors?”

  “What?” Her puzzled expression told him that wasn’t the something she’d had in mind. “Oh, yes, we had the Board meeting, and they’re fine with everything.”

  His heart leaped. “Everything?”

  “What we’re doing with the garden, and letting the residents contribute. They even told me I’m doing a good job, so I’m winning brownie points toward that promotion.”

  “Great. And?”

  “Well, they approved my budget.”

  With a sense of letdown, he sank into a vinyl chair. Not the chair, the one from his fantasy, but the other one. “Guess you’re happy about that.”

  “I’m even happier about other things.” She smiled, all sparkly eyed again. The smile tipped into a grin, like she had the secret to end all secrets. “Jesse, you know how we were saying there should be an organization that looks after people like Mrs. Wolchuk?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “I think there is.”

  “Hey, cool. But I still don’t mind doing the work for her.”

  “Maybe you could work for the organization.”

  That was what had her so excited? “Sounds complicated.”

  “I know you don’t like complications and rules and paperwork. That aspect could be minimized.”

  “But why do I have to go through some organization? Oh, is it a liability thing? If I do it myself and something goes wrong, I’m personally liable. But if I do it through an organization, then I’m covered, and they have insurance?”

  “You’re a quick learner, Jesse Blue.”

  Okay, so sometimes rules had purposes. Resignedly, he asked, “So what’s the name of this organization?”

  Her eyes were absolutely glittering. “You tell me.”

  “Huh? I’ve never heard of it.”

  “That’s because it’s brand new. It’s not registered. It doesn’t have a board of directors or a charitable tax number or even a name. Doesn’t have any funding or any employees, either.” Ms. By-the-Rules Mahoney sounded as proud as if she was describing a Fortune 500 company.

  “Not following you.” He felt the way he so often used to: stupid.

  “It needs a director. He could work part-time until the Board and the funding sources are organized. It would be a start-up operation.”

  “How long’s that going to take?” There’d be paperwork, legal stuff, lots of complications. “I told Mrs. Wolchuk I’d come by for a few hours every week.”

  “I understand. But let me tell you the kind of things the director would do,” she went on. “He’d assess repair projects, find sources for construction and garden supplies at rock-bottom prices, and in the beginning he’d have to do most of the work himself.”

  Things Jesse could do in his sleep. If someone had diagnosed his dyslexia when he was a kid, he could be this fancy director. “Uh-huh.”

  “Of course there’d be an administrative side, too. The kind of work that I do here at Cherry Lane. Accounting, budgets, reports to the Board, funding proposals.”

  He grimaced. Even if he’d had a better education, he wouldn’t want to do that. He was a man of action.

  “That would be a different person, though,” she said. “And just a few hours a week.”

  He shifted restlessly. Maura’d probably be mad if he went ahead with Mrs. W’s work, but he hated to start a job and quit in the middle.

  “I foresee that the organization will grow,” she went on. “The director will have to hire staff and direct them, but from what I’ve seen the guy I have in mind is excellent with people.”

  “The guy you have in mind? You’re involved in this organization?” Maura really did confuse him sometimes. “Why didn’t you mention it the other night?”

  “Because I didn’t know about it.” Her eyes gleamed with excitement.

  “Okay.” Just like with his dyslexia, she’d done some research and found out about this organization. It did sound cool. He’d like to work for them when they got going, but right now, he wanted to help out Mrs. W.

  “This director,” she said, “he’ll have to do some project management and supervision, but I think he’ll still want to be hands-on most of the time.” Her eyes had an I’ve-gota-secret sparkle and the corners of her mouth twitched like she was fighting back a smile. “Right, Jesse?”

  “If he’s like me he would.”

  She was losing the battle with her smile.

  And then it hit him: something that would explain the sparkly eyes and secret smiles. But no, he was a laborer who couldn’t read properly. He couldn’t be the director of some fancy foundation. Could he? Wondering if he was making a total fool of himself, he asked, “Are you talking about me?”

  “Well, duh,” she said. That un-classy word, coming from Maura’s mouth, was almost as much a shock as what she’d been saying.

  “Duh?” he repeated as a laugh built inside of him.

  “Duh.” Her smile had broken through and her eyes glittered with a fierce joy.

  His mind couldn’t process this. “What’re you talking about?”

  She leaned forward. “As we said, there’s a need for an organization like that. So I figured, let’s create one. You would be the perfect director. I’ll serve on the Board and do the paperwork. I met with Cherry Lane’s lawyer today, and their firm will help us pro bono. No charge. Mrs. Wolchuk can be our first client. Oh, Jesse, don’t you think it would be wonderful?”

  He did. But he was too stunned to take it in.

  Her eyes widened and she rose, looking uncertain. “Are you okay? Oh, gosh, I’ve gone off like . . . a runaway horse and I’ve probably got it all wrong.” She started to round the desk, cracking her hip against a corner. “You probably love your job, and I’m sure it’s got job security and great benefits.” She stopped a couple of feet away from where he sat.
/>   Now, finally, his brain was working again. “Yeah, my job’s good. Great boss, good team, but it’s just building stuff like apartment buildings. It’s not helping anyone. You know?”

  She nodded vigorously. “That’s why I thought this would be so perfect for you.”

  The idea was sinking in. “We could help all those old people like Mrs. Wolchuk.” He and Maura together, working as equals.

  “Exactly.”

  Excitement surged through him. He sprang out of his chair and pulled her into his arms.

  She gave a shaky laugh and then threw her arms around him, not seeming to care that his clothes were grubby from a hard day’s work. She gazed up at him. “You really think it’s a good idea?”

  “It’s a fantastic idea. God, lady, did anyone ever tell you how smart you are? And how caring?”

  Her body stiffened and her eyes widened again. “No, never.” She burrowed her face into his shoulder. He felt moisture against his neck.

  “Jesus, Maura, are you crying?” He tried to pull away from her so he could see her face.

  She just clung tighter. “Happy tears,” she choked out.

  Well, okay. She was happy, and he was holding her. He was so damned happy, he’d have waltzed her around the room if he had any clue how to waltz. Gently, he rubbed her back. “Hey, it’s okay,” he soothed.

  His body finally cottoned on to the circumstances and arousal surged through him.

  Chapter 18

  Now, there was a cure for sloppy, sentimental tears: the press of a growing erection against her belly.

  The whole week had been so stressful, like nothing she’d ever experienced before. Highs, lows, uncertainties. Fantasy, reality. Sex. Decisions. Always, in her life, Maura had strived for control.

  Right now, nothing seemed to matter except the warm, hard man who held her. A man who’d told her she was smart and caring. A man who saw her the way no one else ever had.

  A man who wanted her, who thought she was sexy. The hard evidence thrust insistently against her.

  She leaned back in Jesse’s arms and gazed at him, blinking moisture from her lashes.