by Lori Wilde
“I just texted Kendra,” Suki said. “Krystal is doing fine. They should have a new member of the family in a couple of hours. The doctors aren’t expecting any complications with the baby. All is well.”
“That’s wonderful news.” Jodi held out her hands to Tobias. The baby grinned widely and leaned toward her. She plucked him from Jake’s arms, grateful to have something to hold on to, and sat down on a stool parked at the checkout counter.
“I’ve got him. You can go now,” Jodi said a little more curtly than she intended because her pulse was pounding weirdly and she couldn’t bring herself to meet Jake’s eyes.
“Jodi,” her mother scolded. “Don’t be rude.”
“There’s no need to rush off,” Dad said. “I’d like to hear about the Gunslingers’ plans for you. Have a seat.” Her father moved a gilded birdcage from an Art Deco bar stool right beside Jodi and waved for Jake to sit down.
Jake captured her gaze and Jodi felt a now-familiar flush of heat rise in her breast, expand to burn her throat and cheeks. He looked as mysterious as a trench coat–wearing detective in a smoky, shadow-shrouded film noir. There was something in his expression that both alarmed and stirred her. He was assessing her. Sensing that something had shifted between them? Jodi wondered.
She was pretty certain that most of the time he was a take-charge kind of guy. A man didn’t get to the top of the heap by being a pushover. He rested his boot on the rung of the stool, but he didn’t sit down.
He was waiting for her to okay it.
Suki plucked a tissue from a box on the desk, passed it to Jodi.
“What’s this for?” she asked.
“You’re sweating.”
What? Oh. She was. Pearls of perspiration had broken out on her forehead. Urgently, she dabbed them away.
“Why are you sweating?” Mom asked, and wrapped herself tighter in her wooly sweater. “It’s chilly in here. Are you coming down with something? Do you have a fever?”
Oh yeah, but not the kind of fever her mother was thinking about. “It was hot upstairs,” she said.
“No, it’s not,” Breeanne called from the balcony. “My toes are icicles. I just turned up the heat.”
Gee thanks, family. She dabbed her forehead again as fresh sweat broke out.
“You’re flushed too.” Mom reached across the counter to splay a hand over Jodi’s forehead. “No,” she said, sounding surprised. “You’re cool, but clammy.”
“I’m fine,” she insisted. She loved her family, but sometimes they were a little too close for comfort.
Tobias reached for the tissue.
“No, no,” she said gently and tucked the tissue in the back pocket of her jeans.
Jake’s eyes stayed latched on hers, a sly, slight smile barely curling the edges of his mouth. Why was he looking at her like that? Was it because she reminded him of Maura? Was that why he was so attracted to her? It explained a lot. If she had known she looked so much like his lost wife she would never have gone to bed with him in the first place.
Her mother glanced from Jake to Jodi, cocked her head, put an index finger to her chin, and looked pensive. Oh no. Mom was starting to put two and two together.
Go, she telegraphed him with her eyes. Please just go.
But he didn’t leave. Instead, he sat down beside her, his knee bumping against hers. Images of the previous night tumbled through her head. Jake’s hot mouth on her neck as he braced her against the wall of the cloakroom, his hands spanning her waist, her legs wrapped tight around his waist, her skirt hiked up to her hips, her panties dropping to the floor, his burgeoning erection pressing against her buttocks. The sex they never got to finish …
It was a good thing too, a great thing. Having sex again would only further complicate things.
“Here, Jake,” Mom invited. “Have a banana nut muffin. Jodi made them.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Carlyle.”
“Please,” Mom said. “You must call me Maggie. We’re practically family after all, Breeanne is marrying your good friend.”
Jake reached into the basket, plucked out a muffin, bit into it.
Jodi’s gaze latched on to his face, watched a dreamy smile touch his lips as he chewed.
“Mmm.” He was eating her muffin.
And enjoying it.
She stared at him and thought, How can I work this guy into my life? And immediately squashed it. If she let such thoughts take root and grow she was opening herself up for dashed hopes and a broken heart. Because finding out she was his dead wife’s doppelgänger slammed the brakes on any lingering hope she might foolishly have been clinging to.
Why had he stayed?
Jake had done his duty to Kendra. He’d delivered the baby to Timeless Treasures. He was free to go. Jodi had pointedly shot him a get-the-hell-out eye dart. Yet he’d sat down beside her and accepted a muffin.
A damn delicious muffin.
Everyone was smiling at him. Everyone except Jodi, and he felt …
Accepted.
In the same way as he felt accepted as part of a baseball team. As he had with Maura’s family. Because of his parents’ divorce when he was seven, he hadn’t grown up in a close family. While both his folks had been loving parents, the cohesiveness hadn’t been there. He and his sisters alternately lived with their mother or father, as circumstances and finances shifted and changed. And once stepfamilies got added to the mix, the dynamics shifted even more.
The Carlyles were a close family and had everything that entailed—meddling, teasing, and good-natured squabbling. He wished for that kind of close familial connection. It was fun to watch and he found himself longing to be part of it.
Uh-oh.
Jake shoved a hand through his hair. Christ, he was getting ahead of himself. He didn’t know if he had a prayer of winning Jodi over. Not a smart idea to go falling in love with her family.
It terrified him that he was even thinking along those lines.
Jodi was bouncing the standing baby on her knee. She was pretending to focus solely on Toby’s face, but he caught those quick sidelong glances she tossed over at him when she believed no one was looking. He saw drops of perspiration form a sheen on her forehead again and the pulse at the hollow of her throat pounding erratically.
Was she thinking about what he was thinking about? Last night in the closet? New Year’s Eve at the Grand Texan? The possibility of more bedroom games?
Toby opened his mouth and leaned in toward Jodi’s chin. Uh-oh, he recognized that I’m-gonna-bite-you look on the kid’s face.
But just as he opened his mouth to warn Jodi, almost unconsciously, she stuck a hand in the side pocket of the diaper bag Jake had dropped onto the counter, pulled out a plastic teething ring, and popped it into the baby’s mouth. Toby grinned, grabbed the teething ring with both hands, and went to town on it with that solo tooth.
“How did you do that?” he asked.
“What?” she asked, looking honestly perplexed.
“Anticipate what Toby was going to do and intercept him so easily before he did it.”
Jodi laughed. “I’m the oldest out of four kids. I’ve got this mothering thing down pat.”
“You were such a good second mama.” Maggie Carlyle smiled at her daughter. “I don’t know what I would have done without you, especially when Breeanne was so sick.”
“Jodi was our little lifesaver.” Carrying a cup of coffee, Dan moved to drop a kiss on the top of his eldest daughter’s head.
“Another muffin, Jake?” Maggie urged, extending the wicker basket of baked goods toward him.
“Don’t mind if I do.” He took another muffin.
Jodi chuffed out an exaggerated breath.
“Problem?” he asked, taking a bite of the moist muffin.
“Why are you still here?” she muttered under her breath. “Muffins are completely portable. Feel free to take some and go.”
“I’m pretty comfortable right here, thanks.” He smirked, enjoying himself.
“Wait.” He polished off the second muffin, dusted crumbs from his fingers, and got to his feet. “I need a ride back.”
“You can take my car.” She dug the keys out of her pocket and dropped them in his open hand. “Drive safe.”
So much for getting a ride with her.
Jake followed Jodi back to the B&B. When they arrived, she jumped out of the van and rushed around to get Toby out of the car seat as if she was in a relay race. He got out of her Honda Civic, strolled over, reached for the diaper bag she was trying to hoist onto her shoulder while juggling Toby in her other arm.
“Here,” he said. “Let me help.”
“I got it,” she said, and stepped back from him, the diaper bag banging against her hip, her lips pulled tight with distress.
“What’s wrong?”
“You,” she said so vehemently that he stepped back. Whoa. What had he done to set her off like this? “You’re what’s wrong.”
“What’d I do?”
She stared at him as if he was as dumb as a box of rocks. “I thought we had an agreement.”
He scratched his head. “About what?”
“Staying as far away from each other as possible.”
“Oh,” he said. “That.”
“Yes, that.”
“Toby got thrust on me. What else was I supposed to do?”
“Tobias. His name is Tobias. His mother doesn’t like for people to shorten it.”
“Ookay.” He pushed his palms down in a calming motion. He had no idea that she’d get so riled up.
Her chest was heaving, visibly rising and falling with each breath. “It wasn’t so much that you brought Tobias to the store,” she said, her voice softening. “It was that you stayed. You could have left right away. You should have left.”
“Your parents invited me. What was I supposed to do? Say no?”
“Jake,” she said, and shook her head. “Jake, Jake, Jake.”
“Jodi?”
“I can’t seem to keep my hands to myself and I hate that. I’m never out of control, but with you …”
“What?”
“I want to kiss you so much right now that I can’t stand it.”
“Me either,” he said huskily, and closed the gap between them, moving decisively like a lawyer closing a plea deal. “So why are we resisting?”
“Breeanne just told me about Maura,” she murmured, and lowered her eyelids. “I saw a picture of your wife, Jake. I know that I look like her.”
Jake froze as a pump of emotions pushed ice down his spine. He shouldn’t be surprised. He should have expected someone to tell her about his past. He wanted to be the one to tell her, but he’d waited too long, lost his window of opportunity, and now she’d found out from someone else. But he hadn’t known how to bring up the topic of his deceased wife who bore an uncanny resemblance to Jodi. By waiting, had he completely blown his chances with her?
He opened his mouth. “I …” Shut it. He didn’t know what to say.
“I’m sorry for all you’ve suffered,” Jodi said quietly. “It’s very sad and my heart aches for you, but I can’t be Maura’s standin. You can’t replace her with me.”
“I …” He swallowed hard. “I’m not trying to do that.”
“No?” She gave a quick, brittle nod.
“No,” he said firmly.
“You’re going to stand there and tell me that the attraction you feel has nothing to do with the fact I look like the young wife you lost so tragically?”
“I admit that you initially caught my eye because you resemble Maura, yes, but you’re wrong about me trying to replace her.”
“Are you sure?”
Was he? Jake pulled a palm down his face. He didn’t think so. Personality-wise, Jodi was nothing like Maura. But how could he know for sure there wasn’t some truth to it? And if he didn’t know for certain, how could he convince her?
“This is too complicated.” Jodi shook her head.
“Are you trying to tell me we aren’t worth exploring?” he asked. “I know I had the best sex of my life with you.”
“Shh,” Jodi darted her gaze over her shoulder as if checking to see that no one had sneaked up on them.
“I’m serious,” he insisted.
Her cheeks reddened like vine-ripened tomatoes. “How was sex with Maura?”
Her question was a punch to the gut. She was right. Things were complicated. His lips tightened. “That’s private.”
“I see,” she said softly. “Too many land mines. We’re better off keeping our distance.”
“All right,” he said, not knowing why he couldn’t just accept the fact she didn’t want to continue their affair. “Sex with Maura was good. We were in love, but she was naïve, shy, hesitant. Not that I minded, but with you …” He shook his head. “Dynamite.”
“Breeanne said you guys were only married six months, maybe Maura just didn’t have time to get to dynamite.”
His gut knocked against his spine. He took a step back, an uncomfortable feeling settling over him. Talking about his sex life with Maura felt disloyal. He felt like a boat with a broken rudder. Didn’t know how to navigate these choppy waters. “You’re right. Too many land mines.”
Jodi exhaled audibly. “I was engaged before.”
That stopped him. “When?”
“A year ago. He stood me up at the altar.”
“Ah,” he said. “The guy who soured you on relationships.”
“The guy who burst my bubble about romantic fantasies. You, Jake Coronado, are a romantic fantasy.”
“Sometimes dreams come true,” he said.
“And sometimes, they’re total bullshit.”
“Wow, that guy really did a number on you.”
She shrugged. “He ran off with a stripper to the Caymans after embezzling money from the savings and loan where he worked. I spent months convincing the feds I was not involved. The experience left me gun-shy.”
The oddest sensation washed over him, the feeling that she didn’t easily open up to people and she’d just gifted him with a pearl of personal information. She trusted him, at least enough to share that tidbit. It was a start.
“And you haven’t been with a man since then,” he said. “Until me.”
She stared at him, pulled her bottom lip up between her teeth, and then slowly nodded.
“That’s why you’re so nervous about us.”
She was brave and held her ground, but her eyes flickered warily. “I’m not ready for this. I’m not ready for you. I’m busy being a maid of honor and running a B&B and—”
“Running from your feelings.”
“Yes,” she admitted, and that stirred him more than he cared to admit. “It’s ridiculous to feel this way.”
“What way is that?”
“Uncontrollable. Overpowered. Overwhelmed. You’re very overwhelming.”
“So are you,” he said sincerely. “But I’m willing to risk it.”
“I don’t overwhelm people. If anything I’m underwhelming.”
“Why on earth would you believe that?”
“My ex-fiancé certainly thought so.”
“Forget that guy. He had shit for brains.”
“Not gonna argue with you there.” She slanted him a glance that plucked at something in the center of his chest. “Do you ever wish life came with a giant eraser? A rubber do-over stick?”
Was she thinking about the night she’d spent with him and wishing she could expunge it from her life? The pull in his chest tightened.
“Regrets are useless,” he said honestly. “You make mistakes and live with the consequences. It’s how people learn.”
“That’s a healthy mental state,” she said. “I doubt I’ll ever get there.”
“What? You think you have to be perfect all the time?”
She didn’t answer and he realized that, yes, she thought she had to be perfect. “You’re too hard on yourself,” he said. “You’re only human.”
“You’re going to tell me you don’t beat yourself up for your wife’s death?”
Jake gulped. She had him there. “I came to terms with it. Not saying it was easy, just saying it’s possible.”
“You’re healed?” She sounded skeptical, looked surprised.
The muscle at his temple ticked. “It’s taken a long time, and the scar will always be a part of who I am, but yeah.”
“I’m happy for you,” she said.
“But …”
“This is bad timing.”
She looked so beautiful in the morning light with the sun glinting off her auburn hair, the baby cocked on her hip, her eyes filled with a grab bag of emotions. She wore a pink sweater and a cream-colored lamb’s wool car coat with the collar turned up around her neck. She smelled of promise and hope and it was all too much for him. Looking into her eyes, he could hear his own heart beating and the sound was deafening. Sinking. He was sinking hard and fast. Good thing she was putting on the brakes.
Tobias fretted and squirmed in her arms.
“I better take him inside,” she said, cupping Tobias’s little head in her palm. “He probably needs a diaper change.”
“Yeah,” Jake croaked, swallowed hard. “Go take care of the baby.”
CHAPTER 15
Jodi Carlyle’s Wedding Crasher Rules: Remember the past
is gone, and the future doesn’t exist yet, live for today.
Well, she’d gotten what she wanted. She’d sent Jake packing. Why did she feel so miserable?
Why? Because she wanted to have wild monkey sex with him, that was why. She wanted to be Gwendolyn all over again—exotic, mysterious, sophisticated, urbane.
But she couldn’t go back to that now. He’d already seen her as the girl next door. As the woman who made banana nut muffins and hung out with her family and knew a seven-month old baby so well she could anticipate when he was going to bite and intercept him with a teething ring.
And what about the mad lust that had driven them into the coat closet at Vincente’s? That had certainly not been “Jodi” inside that closet. That had been one-hundred-percent Gwendolyn.