Who's Been Sleeping in My Bed?

by Jami Davenport

  Chapter 11—A Girl Who Knows Her Trucks

  Jake sprang to full alert. “What? I’ll be right there.”

  He threw on a pair a jeans and a coat and yanked on some boots.

  His sister met him in the hall, rubbing her eyes. “What’s going on?”

  “Lock the door and don’t let anyone in,” he barked.

  Grabbing a flashlight, he ran out the door. Jake didn’t bother with the truck. He crashed through the woods on the narrow trail connecting the two houses.

  He burst into the clearing where the cottage sat. Two amber tail lights split the darkness and caught his attention. The vehicle disappeared around a curve in the driveway. Tires squealed on the country road. Too late. The jerk had made a quick getaway.

  Jake had a damn good idea who owned that truck. That fucking plumber of his had decided to extract a little revenge by taking it out on Harlee. If he could get his hands on that ass, he throttle him.

  “Oh, Jake.” Harlee flew off the porch. He enveloped her in the warmth and protection of his arms. Her body shook, and she clung to him.

  “It’s okay. He’s gone. Let me take a look around inside.”

  “Not without me.” The way she looked at him, he couldn’t say no.

  Jake tucked her under his arm as he checked the bedroom, closets, and bathroom. “Do you see anything missing?”

  “No, everything looks like I left it. Did you see anything outside?”

  “I saw a truck pulling out of your driveway.”

  “I heard it. A Dodge diesel,” she said.

  “You can tell that?”

  “I know my trucks.” Her face fell and she wrung her hands together. “What do you think he’s after?”

  “I don’t know.” He wished he did know. “Did you get a look at him?”

  “Uh, no. Just shadows.”

  “Any idea of size or shape or anything?”

  “No, nothing. Jake, I don’t know.” On the verge of tears, she buried her face in his chest. Finally, she lifted her eyes to his. Tears glistened on her lashes.

  “Oh, baby.” He held her tighter and rubbed her back. “He can’t hurt you. I’m here.”

  “But you can’t be here all the time.”

  “I’ll stay on the couch tonight. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

  “What about Bridget?”

  “She’ll be fine. I pity the poor guy who’d be stupid enough to tangle with her.”

  “You should call her anyway.”

  Jake called Bridget, knowing he’d opened himself up for no ends of grief and speculation. His sister was infamous for being the family matchmaker, even though all her matches so far were disasters. That wouldn’t deter her, especially since she’d changed her mind about Harlee. He could see the repercussions from this night but was powerless to stop them. He stood a chance against one of them. But both?

  Staying on the couch with Harlee sleeping in the next room hadn’t been one of his most brilliant ideas. In fact, it ranked up there as one of the worst forms of torture known to man, at least this man with this particular woman. He might have dozed a few minutes all night. While his mind churned in an attempt to figure out her intruder’s identity.

  Who knew what she’d do or how far she’d go to save that camp?

  A sick possibility entered his mind. Would she go so far as to create an imaginary intruder, knowing he wouldn’t want to leave her alone at night? No. He couldn’t believe that of her. Harlee didn’t have a devious bone in her curvy body.

  God, where had he heard those words before?

  He’d said them to his father when he’d married that cocktail waitress at nineteen. Man, he’d been eating those words ever since. When it came to women, his blind spot encompassed an area as large as a football stadium.

  He didn’t know Harlee. Not really. Knew nothing of her past. Never checked into why she’d left her last job. In fact, he hadn’t checked on anything about her. Nothing. She’d refused to give him references, and he’d never insisted.

  Jake shook his head in confusion. Was he being stupid and gullible? Again. Or could he trust his unreliable instincts with this woman?

  Damn, he wished he knew.

  * * * *

  Harlee attacked the stack of mail on her desk, taking out her frustration on innocent envelopes with a vengeance. She methodically opened each then sorted them into piles according to importance.

  The routine task calmed her jangled nerves. Last night had been like a bad dream. She almost wondered if she’d imagined it. Yet, that twig had snapped. Her door had been ajar. A shadow had crossed by her window. The door knob had rattled.

  Jake was probably right. His plumber had been pissed and had tried to scare her. He was going to check with the crew and make sure the jerk had left the island.

  Harlee rubbed her eyes and suppressed a yawn. She hadn’t slept a wink. No way could she sleep when Jake slept several feet away. She hadn’t heard one snore from him all night either, but she’d heard a lot of tossing and turning.

  At least she wasn’t the only one in torment. Sighing, Harlee ripped open the next envelope. She read it twice to make sure it was what it appeared to be.

  She held in her hands a contract for the company slated to do the demolition of the camp. The cover letter requested that Jake sign and return it within ten days or the contract would be void.

  Harlee’s eyes darted around the room. She glanced out the window. She didn’t see anyone. Tucking the contract back into the envelope, she shoved it deep in her bottom desk drawer. The island mail service could be unreliable in the winter. If he asked, she’d say she hadn’t seen it.

  She just needed more time to convince him regarding the camp. Once she did that, she’d give him the contract. So it wasn’t really like she was being dishonest, just taking advantage of an opportunity that fate sent her way. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

  Regardless, she felt like a shit.

  * * * *

  Jake worked with his carpenters, pounding a hammer to relieve some of his sexual frustrations. They finished framing the building, and he let his crew go for the day. He glanced at his watch. Harlee should be out of the office by now. It’d be safe to sneak in and take care of some business. He’d avoided her all day, uncertain how to handle his jumbled feelings.

  For three nights, he’d slept on Harlee’s couch. It had been pure torture with only a thin wall separating them. The security company installed an alarm in the cottage yesterday, and last night he’d slept in his own bed. Yet, he still had lain awake for hours thinking of nothing but Harlee. The woman’s very essence seemed to be stamped on his brain and soaked into his skin.

  According to one of his crew, the plumber had left for the mainland that very next morning after Harlee’s intruder had made his appearance. Nothing further had happened, so it appeared the threat was gone.

  Jake pulled into the empty lot next to his job shack. The old company truck he’d loaned Harlee was parked near the door. He hesitated then with a resigned sigh, forced himself to enter the building.

  His body went to full alert, excited at the prospect of seeing her. This infatuation needed to end. And soon, before she stole his heart, had him reconsidering his plans for Rosehill, and ruined his life and his finances.

  Jake wished he knew how to stop his insane attraction to her. Not that she wasn’t a beautiful woman, but she didn’t fit into his future plans, his plans for Rosehill dealt the fatal blow.

  Harlee glanced up from the computer screen when he walked inside. Her radiant smile made her face brighter than sunshine on a summer day. It warmed his insides and made them all soft and gooey. Damn, no matter how strong his convictions to keep hands off, as soon as he laid eyes on her, he wanted to lay the rest of his body on her, too. No surprise there. Sexy little numbers had always been his weakness. But not like this. Never like this.

  “Oh, I’m glad to see you. I waited around, hoping you’d come back here before you went home for the day
.”

  “Oh, is there a problem?”

  “No, not a problem. Eva stopped by. She’s doing that nightclub show at the bar tonight. She insisted it would be good for you to take a brief soul vacation. I made dinner reservations for you at eight. She wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

  Dinner? By himself? He stared at her. “Are you working there tonight?”

  “No. She has other help.”

  “Are you going to dinner then?”

  “She wants me to go.”

  “Are we sitting at a table together?”

  “We don’t have to. I mean if there’s someone else you’d rather take.”

  Someone else? Was she nuts? Look at where they were. On a frigging remote island in the dead of winter, hardly a tourist in sight and even fewer single women with all their teeth. “No, I’d love to have dinner with you. Sounds great. I’ll pick you up at seven thirty.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.” Okay, liar, he was anything but sure. In fact, he was pretty sure this was the worst thing a man avoiding a woman with sexpot written all over her could possibly do to himself. But hell, it was too late to turn back now. He’d sealed his own fate, let Bridget’s tarot cards fall where they may.

  Harlee smiled shyly at him. “I’ll see you then.” She gathered her things, put on her coat, and left. Jake watched her go and waved through the window as she drove off.

  * * * *

  Harlee turned around, looking over her shoulder to get a better view of her body in her requisite tight dress. She faced the mirror and added some more mascara. Her generously made-up eyes and bright red lips stared back at her. She wanted to remind him that they could never be a couple, and the overdone makeup should do just that.

  She missed having him around last evening. Once the alarm was installed, he’d hightailed it for home. She couldn’t blame him. If he was even half as horny as she was, he’d have to be dying.

  This celibacy thing wasn’t working for either of them. She’d sealed her fate when she hid that contract. She had no long-term future here. Her days were numbered and her nights were dwindling. Why not make the best of the nights she had remaining?

  Tonight, she’d take him to bed. They’d satisfy their lust for each other after a few nights or several of humping like rabbits. Once she’d fried his brain cells and other parts of his anatomy, she’d convince him to reconsider his position on the camp.

  So much for Plan A and B. Plan C had just moved to the top of the list.

  Hold onto your shorts, Jake, Goldie’s sleeping in your bed tonight.

  * * * *

  Jake frowned at the mirror and changed clothes again. Why didn’t anything look good on him? Since when did he ever care about his clothes? He’d never been a clothes horse like Brad or even a GQ-type like Carson. Strictly a jeans and T-shirt type, yup, that was him.

  So what was the big deal tonight? Was he trying to impress Goldie?

  Jake leaned his head against the mirror and shut his eyes. Calm down, buddy. It’s just Harlee. Yeah right, just Harlee. Just the sexiest, most enticing woman he’d met in a long time.

  The phone rang. Grateful for the interruption, he picked it up. “Hello.”

  “Jake, how’s everything?”

  Oh, man, Mr. Tight Ass himself. Just what he needed right now. “Fine. Everything’s fine.” Jake picked up a pencil and doodled on a notepad.

  “I showed your ideas for Rosehill to Dad. He’s impressed. You know it takes a lot to impress Dad. We discussed hiring your company to do some renovations on our downtown offices.”

  Jake was speechless. His father had never been impressed with anything that he’d done. “Really?” Jake kept his voice calm to conceal his excitement.

  “Well, of course. It depends on how well you handle the development of Rosehill. Don’t fuck it up, Jake. Dad doesn’t need to be stressed right now. Nor do we need to lose the shirt off our backs.”

  “It can’t be that bad.”

  Carson was quiet for a beat. His silence revealed more than words ever could. Jake’s throat constricted, and fear sliced through him. It was true, the untouchable Empire was crumbling.

  Finally Carson spoke. “There’s no margin for error. I hope you can handle it.”

  Jake gripped the phone until his knuckles turned white. He counted to ten. Damn Carson, Mr. Perfect. Perfect Ass, that is. When would his big brother see that he wasn’t a screw-up anymore? Damn it. The uncomfortable silence between brothers was deafening. Jake cleared his throat. “Is that all?”

  “I talked to Mom today. She mentioned that she called you last week.”

  “Uh, yeah.” Where the hell was this leading?

  “I saw Jill, too. She was pretty upset. Why’d you stand her up for dinner?”

  “I didn’t stand her up. I cancelled. I needed to get back to Orcas.”

  “Reasons, huh? Would those reasons have anything to do with that blonde assistant of yours?”

  Jake bristled at the way Carson said assistant. “No, of course not.” His tone sounded too sharp and defensive, but Carson brought that out in him.

  “Jake, don’t you ever learn. Take a look at her. Doesn’t she remind you of someone?”

  “Uh, no.”

  “She looks like your ex-wife. Remember her? I realize your marriage only lasted a few months, but I would have hoped you’d emerged from your drunken stupor long enough to remember your combination marriage-divorce.”

  “I remember it.” And way too well. “Harlee doesn’t look anything like her.”

  “Open your eyes.”

  “Harlee’s a good person.” Jake’s voice took on a deadly quiet tone, but his brash brother never picked up on it.

  “I’m worried about you, Jake. This thing with your secretary needs to stop.”

  “Your concern touches me deeply.”

  “Don’t be sarcastic. You’re breaking Mom’s heart.”

  “Hardly.”

  “Jake, you’ve made great strides in the last few years in the right direction. Let’s not slide all the way back to the beginning with one stupid move.”

  “Harlee is not a stupid move.”

  Carson’s exasperated sigh burned his ear. “Sleep with her, just don’t get serious about her. But if you’re going to sleep with her, then get her another job.”

  “I know what I’m doing.” Jake bit his lip until he tasted blood.

  “Just like you did when you were nineteen? When are you going to grow up and get this chip off your shoulder?”

  “I don’t have a chip on my shoulder.”

  “Sure, that’s why you insist on being a rebel. I still can’t believe my little brother swings a hammer for a living.”

  “Degrading, isn’t it? Imagine a Reynolds working with his hands. Remind me again how Great-Great-Granddad made the family fortune.”

  “This conversation is going nowhere.”

  “Where’d you expect it to go?”

  “One last thought to chew on. You’re on the verge of being back in the family’s good graces. Dad may even reinstate you in his will—if he hasn’t already. Don’t throw it away.”

  Jake tensed, ready to do battle. A pointless battle. This argument couldn’t be won. Not with his stubborn brother. Carson had made up his mind about Harlee. She’d been tried and convicted based on her appearance and her background.

  Jake placed the phone in its cradle, hanging up on his brother and drawing the first battle line.

  Chapter 12—Heaven on Four Wheels

  Jake’s hand stopped in mid knock. He took a deep breath and let it out. Taking Harlee to dinner crossed the threshold between employee and date. Once crossed, they’d never be able to go back. But he wanted to cross in the worst way. Mentally flogging himself for his weakness, he rapped on the door. Harlee told him to come in.

  The rat dog greeted him. He knelt down and scratched Igor’s head. “Hey, buddy, what’s up? Don’t tell me she’s still getting ready? Women are never on time.”
Igor whined and wagged his scrawny tail.

  “I bet your dinner’s always late, too. Huh?” Igor yapped and jumped on Jake’s legs.

  “Yeah, I know what you mean. Too much stuff to do. Makeup. Hair. Glad we’re guys, aren’t you? Even better, good thing you’re not a poodle. All that foo-foo clipping crap.” Jake straightened and gazed at the closed bathroom door. “Hey, Harlee! We’re gonna be late.”

  “I know,” came her muffled response. “I just needed to fix my lips.”

  The mental picture in Jake’s head caused him to moan. Man,

  The bathroom door opened, and Jake’s head jerked around. His mouth opened as wide as a Boeing airplane hangar and stayed open. His eyes cruised down her body to her toes and back to her face. What a knockout. Her blue dress hugged her full round breasts and showed ample cleavage. The short skirt bared her shapely legs and clung to that gorgeous ass. He itched to touch that bare skin then creep to higher ground. Those spiked heels were more than enough to send his fantasies into the outer atmosphere. And her face, oh Lord, that face. She’d stayed just this side of conservative on the makeup, at least for her, letting her true beauty shine through, and he liked it. He liked it a lot.

  “Holy shit.” His gruff croak carried to Harlee. She graced him with a seductive smile that snuck under his skin and nestled in his groin. “You sure know how to make a man—” Realizing he was gawking he snapped his mouth shut before someone decided to land a Boeing 777 in there.

  “Do I look okay?”

  “Damn.”

  “Is that a good damn or a bad damn?”

  “Oh, man, I don’t know.” He really didn’t. Definitely good in that she looked as decadent as his most wild fantasies and bad in that her appearance sealed their fate. Her face fell, and he realized he’d delivered one of those insensitive male faux pas. “Harlee, you look incredible.”

  She looked away and down and shuffled her dainty spike-heeled feet. How did women manage to stand on those things?