Stacey Joy Netzel Boxed Set

by Stacey Joy Netzel

  But this was Jake. He had a beautiful shop, drove a luxury car, and no doubt lived in a high-class condo or a ritzy neighborhood just like his brother. As she removed his jacket and handed it over, she thought of the tiny two-bedroom apartment she shared with her mother.

  The only thing pretty in the entire place was the tree she’d snuck into the woods and hand chopped with an ax she’d borrowed from the neighbor. She’d splurged on the decorations, too, because after last year in the hospital, no way would she let her mother’s illness keep them from celebrating another Christmas.

  Other than that, the apartment contained one small couch they’d bought from a secondhand shop and her mother had sewn a slip cover for, mismatched kitchen table and chairs, and a nineteen-inch black and white TV. Their beautiful hand-painted china had been sold, replaced with dinnerware from a local second-hand store, and—

  “Hey. Stop right there.”

  Jake’s stern voice halted her in her heel-dragging tracks. He swung her to face him and one quick glance confirmed his frown matched his voice.

  “There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

  Had he read her mind or were her feelings that obvious?

  “I’m not ashamed.” It came out pathetically weak, and she cringed inside as she stared at his chest.

  “Look at me.”

  She got as far as his shoulder, then focused on the wall behind him.

  “Loral.”

  The soft-spoken command compelled her to finally meet and hold his gaze. He lifted his hands to her face, his strong, gentle fingers cradled her as if she were the most delicate piece of Depression glass he’d ever held. She swallowed hard.

  “None of this stuff matters, you know.”

  “Says the man with heated leather seats in his Lexus,” she quipped with embarrassment.

  “Which is now sitting in the ditch, and, I’ll point out, did nothing to keep my butt warm on the way over here.”

  She attempted a smile, but couldn’t hold the humor in the face of his serious regard.

  “People are what matter, Loral. You matter. Not where you live, or what you have. Now, I’ll admit, you might need to work on your pride some.” He smiled to soften his words. “Take a little well-intentioned help now and again, but your dignity comes from within. No one can take that away from you. Hold your head high and show me some of that fire you blasted me with back at the shop.”

  Her laugh was husky with emotion. His speech struck a cord deep inside her soul, and while she always suspected her heart was in danger around him, after tonight, her suspicion was confirmed. Damn him. She lifted her chin with a tremulous smile.

  “I’m sorry about—”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “No apologies.”

  “Yeah, well, I wasn’t very nice earlier.”

  He pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “All I recall is one hell of a kiss and the promise of hot coffee.”

  She smiled and another thread snapped on the rope that kept her heart from falling. “I have to make one stop before we go upstairs.”

  With Jake at her side, she paid the rent to the sour-faced building manager who looked disappointed that she’d come up with the money again. Worse than Ebenezer Scrooge before his ghostly visits, the jerk would just love to kick them out at Christmastime. After Loral insisted on a receipt for the cash payment, she led Jake up the stairs to the third floor apartment and took a deep breath while fitting her key in the lock.

  The afghan her mother had used while napping was bunched up on a corner of the couch, but the TV was muted and all was quite as Loral closed the door behind Jake. She squelched an immediate urge to rush and search the apartment and consciously kept her voice casual.

  “Mom? I’m home.”

  The sound of the far bedroom door eased her apprehension. Loral searched her mother’s face for signs of fatigue when she entered the living room. She appeared well-rested.

  “Thank goodness,” her mother said, coming to hug Loral. “It looks nasty out there.”

  “It is.” She stepped back and turned toward Jake. “Mom, this is Jake Coburn. He gave me a ride home.”

  Jake extended his hand. “Mrs. Evans. Very nice to meet you.”

  “Please, call me Clara. And thank you for bringing my daughter home safely.” She rubbed Jake’s fingers. “Oh my, you’re cold.”

  As he pulled free, he cast a glance at Loral. She gave a brief shake of her head when she read his guilty expression. She was home safe, and the accident wasn’t his fault any more than it was hers.

  But her mother looked Jake up and down, and then turned to Loral. “You two look half-frozen and soaked to the skin. What happened?”

  Her mother’s narrowed gaze told her there was no getting around the truth. Loral had never gotten away with much as a kid.

  “Someone ran us into the ditch—” She held up a hand at her mother’s alarm. “Settle down, Mom. It happened a couple blocks from here and as you can see, we’re both fine. I didn’t say anything on the phone because I didn’t want you to worry.”

  “Well, good Lord, you two must be frozen. Loral hang up those coats and then you two go get those wet clothes off while I put on some tea.”

  Loral’s face flushed as she met Jake’s gaze over her mother’s head. They shared a moment of humor and something more that had to do with her mother basically suggesting they strip right there. Not that she meant her mothering that way, but after that kiss in the snow, Loral had no hope of keeping her imagination on the straight and narrow. The gleam in Jake’s eyes told her his thoughts travelled a similar road.

  “Mom, you go rest,” she said, attempting to steer her mother back toward the small couch. Although this had been one of her mother’s good days, she couldn’t do as much as she used to just yet. “I’m going to make a pot of coffee and Jake’s going to call a taxi for a ride home.”

  Her mother held her ground and looked from Loral to Jake. “Didn’t you hear? There was a big accident out on I-10. They’ve declared a state of emergency and the roads are closed to all non-emergency vehicles.”

  “We heard about the accident,” Jake said. “But I didn’t realize they’d shut down the highways. I suppose we’re lucky we got as far as we did.”

  Her mother nodded. “It’s been scrolling across the bottom of the TV for the past half hour or so.”

  Jake glanced at the silent miniature black and white, then walked over to look out the window. “Are there any hotels nearby?”

  “Nonsense. We aren’t sending you back out in this blizzard. You’ll stay here.”

  Her tone brooked no argument. Jake looked at Loral with raised eyebrows, but she just smiled and shrugged as her mother kept talking.

  “Besides, the hotels will be full with other stranded motorists. You’ll never find a room.”

  “I don’t want to inconvenience the two of you.”

  “Please, stay,” Loral said when he still looked unsure. “You can have my bed, and I’ll take the couch.”

  “See there, it’s all settled.” Her mother took their arms and urged them into the hall. “Go see if you can find something that’ll fit the man, and I’ll start the coffee.”

  She mumbled about the size of Jake as she headed into the kitchen area. Loral stared after her for a dazed moment and then faced Jake with a nervous flip of her stomach.

  “So that’s what a tornado feels like.”

  “Come on.” She led the way into her bedroom. He stood just inside the doorway, staring at her queen-sized bed. She snuck a quick glance at him at the precise moment he did the same thing. It broke the tension and they both laughed.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever had a stranger night in my life,” he declared, walking over to sit on her hot pink bedspread.

  The contrast of his dark hair and clothes against all that pink made it hard to look away. He should’ve looked uncomfortable, self-conscious even, in her unapologetic girly room, but instead he seemed completely at ease. Totally secure in his mas
culinity.

  She opened her closet, revealing her bright purple robe on the door. Lifting it from the hook, she turned with a grin. “Think this’ll fit?”

  One dark brow arched upward. “I’ll dry eventually, thank you very much.”

  She laughed, hung it back on the hook and pulled two of her extra large sleep T-shirts off their hangers. From her dresser near the door, she took out a pair of shorts for herself, but knew nothing she had would fit Jake. Then again, maybe he wouldn’t need them.

  Facing Jake, she summoned the girl who’d teased and kissed him earlier. “Boxers or briefs?”

  “How about dinner and a movie first?” he deadpanned.

  “Ha, ha. Just for that, smartass, you get this one.”

  Jake caught the shirt she tossed at him. After he gave it a brief inspection, she prepared for him to toss it right back. Instead, he reached over his shoulder, grabbed a fistful of his black, ribbed turtleneck sweater and stripped it over his head.

  Oh, man.

  No wonder he’d felt so hard—from his defined biceps, toned chest, right down to the killer six-pack abs. She couldn’t tear her eyes away. Until he covered all that glorious muscle with her pastel pink, extra large bunny shirt that barely fit him.

  A grin fought to escape. Had she just been thinking he was secure in his masculinity? Now his face matched the shirt and she gave in to the grin.

  “Pink is definitely your color.”

  His gaze narrowed slightly before he stood up and reached for the fastener on his black pants while kicking off his shoes. Heat flooded her body. Practically holding her breath, it never occurred to Loral to look away. Jake took his sweet time with the pants, unfastening the hook, sliding the zipper down.

  The deliberate delay prompted her to glance up and found him watching her, a challenging glint in his eyes. Desire pooled low in her belly in response to the fire lighting his gaze. She felt the rise and fall of her chest with each breath she took. It was a dangerous game they played, but she wondered how far he’d take the sexy strip-tease?

  Boxers or briefs…?

  “Coffee’s almost ready.”

  Her mother’s loud announcement sounded just a few steps beyond the open bedroom door. Loral jumped with a gasp. She couldn’t believe she’d forgotten about her mother!

  Chapter Five

  After Loral rushed from the room, closing the door behind her, Jake dropped back on the bed with a low growl. Her shallow breath and flushed face had totally turned him on.

  What the hell was he doing? He’d kept their relationship professional for the past year and now, in one night, wham! He’d undressed in front of her while her mother made coffee in the next room.

  Strangest night of his life was an understatement.

  He removed his damp slacks and wryly admired the way his green plaid boxers clashed with the pink shirt full of bunnies the minx had given him. She’d kept him on his toes since the moment she’d pulled that jewelry from her pocket in the store. Discovering each new facet of her complex personality was like a never-ending surprise party. His mother’s illness had made him loathe the unexpected, but in Loral’s case, he couldn’t wait to get back out there to see what was next.

  When he stood to leave, he caught sight of himself in the mirror above her dresser. The idiot staring back at him groaned. He should’ve argued for a different shirt instead of messing with her. Was that little bit of sexy fun really worth the humiliation of walking into her kitchen dressed like this?

  The heat in her darkened blue eyes flashed in his mind. Oh, yeah, well worth it.

  Removing his wet black socks so he didn’t look like a complete moron, he opened the door and let the heavenly smell of fresh brewed coffee lure him to the kitchen. Loral turned from the counter, a mug in each hand.

  Surprise!

  She must’ve changed in the bathroom, but it was the navy T-shirt with Miller High Life printed in white across the front that got him. The shirt practically drowned her petite frame, ending just above her knees to give him a tantalizing glimpse of slim legs and small feet with pink toenails.

  As Jake joined her mother at the table and Loral brought the coffee over, Clara glanced up, then did a double take. “Nice shirt.”

  “I’m told it’s my color.”

  “Oh, definitely.” Clara nodded, humor sparkling in her light blue eyes. “It brings out a glow in your cheeks.”

  Jake laughed, thinking how much alike mother and daughter seemed, and not only in their delicate bone structure and brunette curls. While Loral retrieved cream and sugar, he leaned back in his chair and surveyed the compact living room to his right to avoid staring at her in front of her mother.

  Christmas practically overflowed the room; not only on the Charlie Brown tree that commanded attention in the corner, but with the lights and garland adorning windows and doorways, too. He’d noticed the decorations earlier, but now had a chance to really take them in.

  “Wow, you two go all out, don’t you?” Jake commented with a grin.

  “That’s all Loral’s doings,” her mother said.

  He heard the delight the older woman’s voice and was pretty sure he understood the excess. Loral’s smile toward her mother confirmed his suspicion.

  Another quick search of the doorways noted the absence of the one decoration he most hoped to find. Then again, lack of mistletoe was actually a good thing, right? It backed up her claim of no boyfriend and he was fine with that.

  Loral slid the cream and sugar toward him as she sat kitty-corner. He stirred in a spoonful of sugar before taking a fortifying sip from his steaming mug.

  “Loral tells me you own an antique shop downtown?” Clara asked, open curiosity and an unexpected hint of skepticism in her tone.

  Jake set his cup down after a longer drink. “Yes. It’s called Yore Timeless Treasures.”

  “Forgive my preconceived notions,” Clara said with a slight smile, “but you’re so…”

  “Yes?” he prompted.

  “Well…young.”

  “I’m thirty-one.”

  She waved a hand. “Just a baby.”

  Loral snorted with a laugh. “Oh, please, Mom.”

  “What?” Clara asked innocently.

  “You remind me all the time that I’m not getting any younger. Total double standard.”

  Hm, interesting. Jake leaned forward, folding his arms on the table as he stage-whispered, “Just how old are you?”

  She gave him a mock glare. “You can’t ask that.”

  “Thirty-two,” Clara supplied. “And Loral, honey, I don’t want grandchildren from him.”

  Jake smiled at that until he saw a flash of pain in Loral’s eyes. What’s that about? He glanced at Clara to find her grinning at him. Her gaze swept down and up again.

  “Then again, maybe—”

  “Mom, stop.”

  The choked emotion in Loral’s command made Clara’s mischievous grin fade fast. Tension filled the air, along with something more he didn’t understand. In the silence that followed, mother and daughter stared at one another. Feeling like an intruder, Jake rubbed his thumb up and down the side of his coffee mug.

  Finally, Clara sipped from her tea cup before setting it back on it’s saucer and turning a determined gaze his way. “So, Jake, how did you come to be in the antique business?”

  The split-second relief that’d flowed with the break in silence now dropped like a rock in his stomach. Yet he wouldn’t have lied for anything.

  “My mother started the shop when my brother and I were little. I spent a lot of time with her there, so I grew up in the business. I can’t imagine doing anything else.”

  “It’s a family affair then. Do you all run it together?”

  “No. My brother wanted nothing to do with antiques and opened his own accounting firm. and my mother...” Jake took a deep breath and forced the next words out. “My mother passed away last summer.”

  “Oh, dear, I’m sorry,” Clara said.

  Lo
ral reached across the table and laid her hand on his arm in silent comfort. The skin to skin contact sent an electric tingle up his arm. Surprise made him flinch and unfortunately, she withdrew her hand. Cool air rushed in, chasing away her lingering warmth.

  A moment later, she straightened in her chair, fingers wrapped around her mug. “Jake liked the jewelry. He bought it all.”

  The sudden change of subject and Loral’s extra cheerful tone took a few seconds to process, but Jake was eternally grateful.

  Clara gave him a hesitant smile. “That’s good to hear.”

  “I’m glad to have them—they’re great pieces. Loral said they were your grandmother’s?”

  “Yes.” Clara sighed, a faraway look in her eyes. “Oh, the story behind that jewelry.”

  Infinitely curious, about the dragonfly in particular, he waited with anticipation for her to tell said story. Instead, she pushed up from the table.

  “It’s been such a long day. Forgive me, but I must put my tired body to bed. I’ll see you two in the morning. Very nice to meet you, Jake.”

  Catching sight of Loral’s concerned gaze, he bit back a protest and murmured goodnight. Loral rose to her feet and followed her mother into the hall. He couldn’t make out their hushed exchange, but after a last lingering look at her mother’s retreating back, she returned.

  Jake wanted to ask if everything was okay, but didn’t want to pry. Loral crossed the floor to lift the coffee pot from the warmer. “More coffee?”

  Not wanting to give her an excuse to disappear as well, he pushed his mug across the polished, nicked tabletop. “Sure. Thank you.”

  While she poured, he cast a more discrete look around the small, spotless kitchen and adjoining living room. Their strained financial situation was more than evident in the sparse apartment, but what they did have underneath the Christmas decorations was as warm and welcoming as the soft yellow paint that coated the walls.

  A light tan slip-cover on the small couch was accented with navy blue throw pillows. If the sewing machine in the corner opposite the Christmas tree were any indication, either Loral or her mother had made the pillows themselves. A matching navy rug on the floor covered what had probably been a beautiful hardwood floor many years ago until some fool had painted it brown.