“Don’t get any ideas. I only took pity on a fool who’d stand out in the rain.”
“That you did, sweetheart. And there’ll be stars in your crown for the doing.” He rubbed his hands together. “You wouldn’t happen to have a wee drop, now, would you?”
Jordan snorted. “I never met a man who sounded like a Pat O’Brien movie before. By that, I guess you mean something alcoholic?”
Blue eyes twinkled. “To be sure, you’ve never met a man like me before, Jordan Parrish. You may not yet be up to the challenge, but I might be willing to take on the task of grooming you for it.”
“You wish.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “I’ve probably got some tequila and limes. We could try body shots.”
He cocked his head. “Hmm, interesting game, that. We never played it in my pub.”
She had to chuckle. “You big faker. Marly told me you’ve been in the country several years.” She walked toward the kitchen area, all too aware of his large frame right behind her. As a tall woman, she wasn’t used to feeling dainty, but that’s exactly how Will made her feel.
“It’s in the blood, Jordan darlin’. Peat fires and the call of the auld sod. A man can’t help what he is, and I’ll thank you not to make sport of me.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Here we go. You can have…” But he’d left her, his concentration already switched to something else.
Her kitchen faucet? She’d never had a man up to her place who’d paid more attention to her loft than her body. Right now, he was turning handles, then using those capable hands to unscrew something on the tip of the faucet.
He shook the metal piece and slapped it against his palm until a tiny screen fell into his hand. Will held it up to the light, frowning. “This screen needs replacing. And how long has this faucet been dripping?”
“What business is it of yours?”
He glanced around. “I suppose it’s too much to expect that you’d have a toolbox?”
“Of course I do. No twenty-first century woman is without one,” she huffed.
“Lead the way, sweetheart.”
Jordan grabbed for the part. “Give me that. I can take care of my own repairs, thank you very much.”
“Can you now?” Placing the metal whatever-it-was and screen in her hand, he executed a sweeping invitation. “Please. I love to watch a woman work.”
“I’ll do it later.” She slapped the parts on the counter and turned away.
“Oh, but there’s no time like the present, didn’t your mum teach you that?” Will relaxed against the counter, arms crossed, a big smile on his face. “Humor me. I’d so enjoy it. I’m in no hurry.”
“I’m not in the mood.” Jordan walked past him, drinks forgotten.
His arm shot out and wrapped around her waist, pulling her close. “Oh, darlin’, I do enjoy the way you do that.”
She leaned back, all too aware of how well they fit together. “Do what?”
His other hand slid up her back, tunneling into her hair, tilting her head slightly. “Lie with such arrogance.” His head lowered to hers and he growled softly. “You sure you’re not Irish?”
Then it was too late. His mouth covered hers, his big body surrounding her. She could smell wood shavings on him, pine and cedar and soap…and something else she could only describe as all man.
Faster than she would ever have believed, his kiss swept her mind clean of any thought but him. For one perilous, treacherous moment, she remembered how it felt to dance with him, to have her body tight against his muscled one. A part of her wanted nothing more than to snuggle up in those strong arms, to sink into the comfort of him.
No. Oh, no. But before she could end the kiss, he did, then set her back on her feet. She stifled a moan.
Regret shone in those blue eyes, and he trailed one finger down her cheek. “I’m thinking there’ll be no more of that until we get something straight between us.”
Jordan bristled and stepped away, fixing him with a baleful stare. “And just what might that be?”
“When you’re ready to tell all those boys you’re finished with them.”
“And why on earth would I do that?”
“Because you’ll be spending your time with me now, Jordan darlin’. And I don’t share.”
She laughed, though it wasn’t as steady as she’d have liked. “You can’t be serious.”
He tapped his chest. “Don’t be listening to your head now. It’s the heart that’s speaking to you.”
“You’re insane. I told you, you’re not my type. Any way, I’m still mad at you for dressing me down at Thanksgiving.”
He shrugged. “You know I was right. A family like that needs supporting, not being sneered at.”
“I wasn’t sneering. I think they’re great.”
“But?”
She turned away. “They’re an anomaly. Marriage isn’t like that.”
“David told me your parents are divorced.” His gaze warmed with sympathy.
“My parents are none of your business.”
“What if I want to make you my business?”
“Don’t bother. I’m not interested.”
“Liar.” He approached her again.
She backed away. “We couldn’t be more different. I’m a shark lawyer—and proud of it! I’m very good at what I do. You’re a—”
“Careful now. Wouldn’t want to let your high-and-mighty streak show too much. I’m a simple carpenter and not ashamed of it.”
“I didn’t say you should be. I’m not a snob.”
Pity darkened his eyes. “Oh, but I think you are. Worse, I scare you. I see who you are, beyond the seductress, beyond the woman they call the man-eater.”
Then, to her great surprise, he reversed course and headed for the door, pulling on his boots and sliding his arms into his coat. “I’m not afraid of you, Jordan Parrish. You won’t discard me like the others. I’ll go when I’m ready and not a minute before.”
“First I’d have to get involved with you, and that’s not gonna happen.”
“It will. Get ready for it.”
“It won’t.” But she wrapped her arms around her waist against a sudden shiver.
“I’m not saying it will be easy—God knows you’re anything but, and I’ve surely lost my mind getting involved with you, but that’s as it will be.” He grasped the door handle, then turned back, giving her a long, soulful look she couldn’t interpret. “I’m not what you think you want, sweetheart, but I’m exactly what you need.”
Then he smiled and gave a tiny salute. “It’s a good thing I’m a patient man, Jordan darlin’. I have a feeling I’m going to have use for all I can muster.” He glanced toward the kitchen. “Just screw the end back on like it was. It will do overnight. I’ll be back with the tools and parts tomorrow.”
Without another word, he was out the door.
Jordan raced after him, grasping the handle with a thought to call him back, to demonstrate her disdain and leave him in no doubt of who had the upper hand.
Instead she let go and leaned back heavily against the wood, pressing trembling fingers to lips that somehow felt different. She swore, but her heart wasn’t really in it. Drawing herself up resolutely, she headed to the kitchen to put her faucet back together and resume the life she liked just fine.
You have a high opinion of yourself, Will Masterson.
Insane. The man was certifiable.
And definitely not her type.
But even though her sample was brief, she knew one sure thing about him.
The man could kiss. Suddenly Jordan laughed out loud.
Certifiable, for sure. Not her type, definitely.
But able to make her toes curl?
Damn the man, yes.
Not that she’d ever tell him.
CHAPTER FIVE
WILL FOUND HIMSELF WHISTLING as he traveled the nearly deserted downtown streets at eight o’clock on Saturday morning. He’d seen her puzzlement last night, felt her body respond to his. She wan
ted to fight what she felt, but she was attracted, he was certain.
Not that she would like it one bit, of course. Ms. Jordan Parrish was far too accustomed to ordering men about, to calling the shots. One glimpse of those stunning legs, and a man could go blind. She used her sexuality as a weapon, as a barrier to protect a heart that he was more certain than ever needed care.
Not that she was the One, of course. No, his ideal woman was still out there somewhere and he would keep looking.
But in the meantime, he could help her, this hard-edged woman who had likely never cared for a house-plant, much less gardened. She probably lived on take-out. As for baking bread…the mere image of Jordan Parrish with flour dusting her apron and her hand buried in dough…
That made him laugh out loud.
He was quite clearly insane, of course, for getting involved. Between his inability to resist a challenge and his weakness for strays, he was, as him mum would say, a complete pudding.
But Jordan Parrish most definitely needed someone to be kind to her, to teach her that her cynicism was misplaced. That there were men with whom she could be real, men she could trust.
He wouldn’t let himself get too deep, however. To get caught up in a woman like Jordan would be insanity, pure and simple. He might be a wee bit soft in the head, but he wasn’t an idiot.
Yes, he felt more alive around her, on the edge of his seat to see what she would do next. Jordan was few things he wanted and many he did not.
But she was definitely never boring.
He chuckled again as he parked his truck in the deserted entertainment district, unloaded not only his tools but a sack of groceries. He’d been up for hours, but he’d bet his granny’s soul Jordan was still sleeping, so he’d come prepared not only to fix her faucet but feed her, as well.
He pressed her buzzer once, then again with no answer. He set down his toolbox, already peering around him for pebbles to toss at her window.
“Oh, hell, it’s you,” came the irritated voice from the speaker. “Do you know what time it is?”
Will grinned. “Let me up, darlin’. I come bearing breakfast.”
“I don’t eat breakfast,” Jordan muttered.
But she hit the button.
JORDAN UNLOCKED THE DOOR, then sank back into the nearest chair and curled up, already half-asleep.
Will strode through it seconds later, whistling.
Jordan muttered and refused to open her eyes. “Go away.”
“Now, darlin’…” She could feel, actually feel the blasted man grinning at her. She picked up the pillow beside her and covered her face with it. “I can’t believe you have the nerve to show up at, what, dawn?”
“It’s hardly dawn. I’ve been up for hours.”
She threw the pillow in the direction of his voice.
Something heavy rattled, then thumped on the floor. Footsteps sounded, along with something being set on her counter. She curled in more tightly on herself and wished just then that she’d thought to grab a blanket. It was freaking cold, and she only wore a camisole and boxers.
More footsteps, then a blanket settled over her. He even tucked it in around her legs, then pressed a kiss to her hair. “Sweet dreams,” he murmured.
Then the blasted man started humming.
Jordan dragged the blanket over her head and tried to shut him out, but how on earth did you ignore a very large man clomping around your apartment, especially if the tune he was singing was quite lovely?
Then the coffee grinder kicked in.
“I hate you,” she shouted.
“Hmm? What was that?”
I’m going to kill him. Dead. Worse than dead. As Jordan plotted the ways she could make Will die a slow, painful death, he blithely continued humming and clomping, pausing to chuckle now and again.
Then she smelled the coffee.
And whimpered.
Another chuckle.
Jordan was torn between plotting…and pleading.
Coffee won. “Please…” She stuck one arm out from beneath the blanket.
“In a bit. Anything good is worth the waiting. You mustn’t rush things.”
“Gimme.”
She heard him approach. Then…nothing.
Her eyelids fluttered. The suspense was killing her. “Well?”
The blanket was peeled back. Will sank to his haunches, blue eyes alight with humor and a trace of pity. “Not a morning person, are you?”
“Coffee. I’m begging.”
His smile widened. “And what would be the magic word?”
“I said please already.”
“So you did.” He swooped in for a quick kiss on her nose. Then he proffered a mug that smelled absolutely heavenly, holding it just out of reach. “Would this be what you’re whimpering about?”
“I don’t whimper.” Much.
“Oh, darlin’, I beg to differ. Now, what, a man has to wonder, would a creature in such dire straits be willing to give in exchange?”
“It’s too early for sex.”
A quick flash of very white teeth. “Oh, my…you certainly are out of sorts, aren’t you? It’s never too early for sex—but that wasn’t what I meant.”
“You’re going to make me beg.”
“Not exactly beg.”
“I did say I hate you, right?”
“That you did. But I know it’s simply that you’re cross, in the way of a child.” And all the while, the delectable scent of that coffee was wafting into her nostrils. “You don’t really mean it.”
“I might.”
“No, you don’t. And lucky for you, my price is quite simple and easily met. A simple ‘Good Morning, Will,’ that’s it.”
“Good morning, Will,” she droned.
“Did I mention that a little enthusiasm would help?”
“God, you’re annoyingly chipper in the mornings, aren’t you?”
He grinned unrepentantly. “That I am.”
“Good thing we’re never having sex. I’d have to boot you out during the night or kill you at dawn.”
“That, my dear, is another discussion altogether. I’ve made my conditions clear.” His smile was cocky and completely unruffled as he cupped one hand behind his ear. “Now, I don’t believe I heard you properly the first time.”
“Good morning, Will,” she said through gritted teeth.
Then she threw off the blanket and uncurled herself. “Good morning, Will.” Her voice rose as she did, and he stood, too. She walked right up to where her feet touched his boots. “Good morning, Will,” she shouted, her teeth bared in a grimace.
He smiled. “Could still use some work to convince me, darlin’, but I’m a merciful man.”
She snatched the mug and growled, then walked around him toward her bathroom.
Once inside, she slammed the door, took a healthy swallow and leaned back against the wood as her taste buds danced over the best cup of coffee she’d had in…ever.
Jordan slowly slid down the door, settled on the floor and indulged herself.
“You all right in there?” Will asked from the other side.
“Go away. I’m having a religious experience,” she answered. She sipped again and closed her eyes in ecstasy.
On the other side of the wood, Will grinned.
And tried not to think about how enticing she looked in those skimpy pajamas.
“Take your time, darlin’.”
Jordan smiled into her cup. “I intend to.”
CHAPTER SIX
IN THE GYM A FEW DAYS LATER, Jordan finished her free-weight sets and headed toward the treadmill, wiping sweat from her forehead. In the mirrored wall, she caught a glimpse of a young guy new to the gym, a long-haired god oozing rude good health and a young man’s raging hormones.
He was checking out her behind, and he didn’t look away when their gazes met.
For just one moment, she paused, letting her gaze linger, allowing sheer lust to sweep through her as if at thirty-six she weren’t a good ten years o
lder than him. Then she smiled, the smile only an older woman has the confidence to hazard. His eyebrows rose, his grin spreading.
Jordan laughed and felt better than she had in days. She climbed on the treadmill and set it for half an hour, random inclines, and pushed the speed up a notch from usual.
Got to keep that butt firm and noteworthy.
Fiona arrived for her daily writing break. “What’s got you so cheery today?”
“Check out the long hair over by the bench press.”
“Oh, my,” Fiona drawled. “Pitty pat, pitty pat.”
Jordan laughed. “He likes my behind. I might keep him.”
“Well, it’s not like he’d be the first younger man for you.”
“Again with the digs.”
“You can’t argue with the truth.”
“I’ve apparently lost my ability to argue, period.”
“What’s that mean?” Fiona asked.
“What’s what mean?” Marly said as she approached.
“Hey, stranger,” Jordan greeted. “You haven’t been in lately.”
“I need a life,” Marly replied, frowning.
“Are you okay?” Fiona asked.
“I’m fine.” Marly’s smile wasn’t one hundred percent convincing, but her expression clearly said bug off. “What’s up with you?” she asked Jordan.
“I have a bone to pick with you, lady.”
“With me?” Marly’s eyebrows rose.
“Yes, you. That man has been to my house three times this week. He’s fixed my faucet, my windows, and changed the lock on my door. He’s driving me insane.”
“What man?” Fiona asked.
“Will,” Marly offered, grinning. “Has to be.”
“Will?”
“Will Masterson, remember, Fiona? The big Irishman who works with David. Don’t listen to a word Jordan says. He’s fabulous. Remember the beautiful doors we saw at the gallery we visited the last time we went out art-gazing? Will made those.”
Fiona nodded. “Those doors were works of art, not mere wood. So why is this artisan playing handyman at Jordan’s loft?”
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