by Ariana Dupre
That's it. Everything was in order. She could leave.
But still she hesitated.
How did I get myself into this mess? she thought, for the hundredth time, leaning against the kitchen counter. Her temper always seemed to get the best of her, and this time was no exception. Jared Maxwell's provocation had sent her right over the edge.
Two hours after signing that stupid contract she had begged Alan to let her out of it.
He'd actually laughed and said, “Nope, you'll just have to make the best of it."
Yeah, right. Make the best out of spending my summer living with Jared Maxwell, my worst nightmare.
Angie's head began to throb. Reaching to the shelf above the kitchen sink, she grabbed the bottle of Ibuprofen, and took two of the white pills.
It was while replacing them that she noticed the silver key.
The key to the Slayton house! Oh man! That would have been just great if I'd forgotten to bring it with me. She snatched it up and pocketed it.
After the meeting with Alan, when it finally sunk in that she couldn't change her mind, Angie had asked for more time. But according to the terms of the contract she and Jared had to move into the Slayton place that morning. That left only yesterday to get their personal affairs in order.
She had lucked out with Sharon Brady, Angie thought as she began rifling through her junk drawer to find the pocket flashlight she'd just remembered she needed.
Sharon was bored at home, and wanted a part-time summer job. She jumped at the chance to run The Variety Vine full time, even on such short notice.
Where did I leave that flashlight? Oh, the heck with it. I better get my butt in gear if I'm going to beat Jared to the house and claim that downstairs bedroom. He has his own key, and he's sure not going to wait for me to arrive before going in and grabbing the best room.
Angie closed the drawer, grabbed the Ibuprofen off the shelf and shoved it into her purse, just in case, walked to the door, and picked up her bags.
Making her way to her SUV, she threw her luggage in the back. Outside, it was still pitch black at four A.M.
One last trip back to her house to turn off the porch light and lock up, and she was all set to go at last.
As she strapped on her seatbelt, she thought about the layout of the Slayton homestead. She'd stopped by the day before and planned a strategy to keep her as far away from Jared Maxwell as possible.
The enormous two-story house, that some might call a mansion, had six bedrooms upstairs and one downstairs. Perfect! She'd take the downstairs bedroom and force Jared to sleep upstairs. Alone.
Checking out the house library, she'd seen so many books that she knew she'd never be in want of reading material.
But it was the ballroom with its large domed ceiling that impressed her the most. She knew immediately what she could create in that space—not just a ballroom, but a romantic getaway for visitors, too.
In the combined kitchen and dining area, Angie was relieved to find a contemporary new stove and refrigerator. Good old Sam Slayton. It seemed he'd installed every modern convenience, including a dishwasher. There was even a washer and dryer inside the screened back porch attached to the kitchen.
A strange place for appliances, Angie had thought before noticing the courtyard.
She went outside and walked to the center of the square part of the yard, where a hand pump glistened in the sun. Water sloshed out unexpectedly when she moved the handle up and down, and she had to jump away quickly before her feet were soaked.
Later, back at her own place, she got out an old ladle and bucket and put them in her SUV. They'll look good on that pump, she thought. Might even come in handy.
Now, as she drove through the morning darkness, she could hear them clanking together in the back. Perhaps they'd be the first things she unpacked when she arrived at the Slayton place—her new summer home.
She drove cautiously, watching for deer, as the SUV's headlights illuminated the crooked country road. She knew, from growing up in the area, that the animals could leap out of the forest without warning.
But only half her mind was occupied with her driving. The other part was thinking about Jared. And for once, she wasn't afraid. In fact, a smile played at the corners of Angie's lips. Jared had provoked her into this project, but she would always stay one step ahead of him. He would arrive around nine, as they'd agreed, to find her already settled into the downstairs bedroom. Surely, he wouldn't wake up at four a.m., as she had, to be the first one there.
Approaching the turn to the dirt road that led to the homestead, Angie felt her pocket again for the house key. Good. It's still there.
She braked as a route driver, approaching from the opposite direction, stopped and shoved the Wednesday edition of the Register & Bee into the newspaper box. Odd. I wonder why they didn't cancel the subscription?
When he pulled away, she stopped her car, got out, and went to the newspaper box herself. She retrieved the paper before hopping back into the SUV.
She didn't realize the long dirt road was in need of repair until she hit the washboards.
Where the road sloped downward, the rain had eroded the earth, creating small dips that looked like the slats on an old fashioned washboard.
Swearing under her breath, Angie slowed the SUV to a crawl. She'd knocked the front end out of alignment before by going over those little dips too quickly. Flicking the headlights to bright, Angie surveyed the road ahead—potholes everywhere.
Jared should repair the roads first, she thought.
Geez, she was doing it again. Thinking of Jared and what he would be doing around the homestead while she worked on the interior design. Well, at least working on the roads would keep him away from her. Now all she had to do was get him out of her mind and dreams. Angie sighed deeply. She wouldn't be leaving this property all summer.
Trapped!
God, how she hated feeling trapped, like a wild animal waiting for the hunter to arrive. Jared. Was Jared the hunter? If she could only shake the feeling that death waited for her at his hands.
The headlights shone against the old white house, jolting Angie out of her reverie. Peeling paint and once black shutters, now gray, made the dwelling look its age.
Angie parked to the side, took a deep breath and grabbed her things from the front seat. She'd come back later for her clothes.
The downstairs bedroom was beside the front door, so she went in that way, shutting the door behind her. Sliding her hands over the wall, she felt for a light switch.
Nothing. She should have noted where they were before. She continued to her bedroom, slowly, feeling her way in the dark. Once there, she reached inside the doorframe, groped around for the light switch.
Ah ha! Got it!
It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness. When they did, she looked in, and could barely contain her anger.
Where are the bed, dresser and nightstand?
Someone had converted the room to an office. It must have been Jared.
There were two desks, two computers and two filing cabinets. One of each for each of them, Angie figured. One desk was already cluttered with files, folders and books. She guessed the other one, free of clutter, was to be her workstation.
"How dare he!” Fury raged within her. “Damn him!"
"Damn who?” said a voice from behind her.
Angie screamed and practically flew to the opposite wall, her heart beating so fast it threatened to explode. But when she turned, anger rose above her fear.
"What is the matter with you?” she shouted at Jared. “What are you doing here this early?"
"I've been here since late yesterday afternoon.” Jared propped the baseball bat he was carrying against the doorjamb to rub the sleep from his eyes. “Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."
Angie bent forward, her palms against her knees. The long straps of her briefcase and purse fell from her shoulders to the floor. She took several deep, calming, breaths.
Then glanced over at Jared. Twice.
How could she stay mad at him when he stood there rubbing his eyes like that? He looked like a little kid who'd gotten up in the middle of the night for a glass of water.
"It's okay. I'm okay, now,” she said to convince herself as much as Jared. “I wasn't expecting anyone to be in the house. I didn't hear you come up behind me."
She also didn't expect him to be half naked.
Her mind whirled as she took in the expanse of his broad shoulders, thick biceps and narrow waist. His muscular chest was covered with a coppery dusting of fine curly hair that tapered across a six-pack stomach before disappearing into blue silk boxers.
My God! Angie swallowed hard.
From the looks of it, he liked to spend time in the gym. Taking a deep breath, she hung her head again. This man is hot! Her blood pounded in her veins, but not from the scare he just gave her.
"Angie, look, I really am sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you. I heard a noise and came down to investigate."
She straightened up to look at him.
Jared offered her a grin, walked over to take her hand in his. “Forgive me?"
His blue eyes were searching hers. He wants my forgiveness. But she couldn't trust him.
Or herself for that matter when a nearly naked, hot bodied man stood so close, touching her. But she didn't want to start the project in a negative way, either. She never expected to see this compassionate side of him and it put her off balance.
"Fine, I forgive you.” Angie's hand tingled from his touch, so she withdrew it. “Just don't sneak up on me again."
"Done.” Jared smiled and she saw his eyes lighten with relief.
"And why did you do this?” she asked, moving away from him, raising her hands to indicate the room. She needed a little space between them in order to breathe. “I wanted this bedroom, but now you've changed it into an office. Did you ever consider talking to me before altering the rooms?"
"No. It's the only room we could wire for the phones and computers. Besides, there are plenty of bedrooms upstairs."
She couldn't argue with that one. “I sure hope you don't plan to make a habit of walking around at night in just your boxers."
Jared looked down at himself. A blush crept to his cheeks. “I ... uh ... sorry ... I'll go dress.” With long strides, he moved toward the door, grabbing the bat as he rushed out of the room and up the stairs.
Would wonders never cease?
He blushed. The man had actually blushed.
So much for Mr. Cool Sophistication. A smile tugged at the corners of Angie's mouth. She couldn't believe Jared Maxwell had been at a loss for words.
So he had a bashful streak, too. In that moment, he seemed so different, not the womanizer she'd experienced in her store and at Alan's office. And certainly not the angry villain from her dream.
Who was Jared Maxwell? She would find out, one way or another, even if it killed her.
Taking a moment to settle down, she sat at the empty desk and told herself that Jared scaring her half to death was what was making her heart race.
So why did she keep imagining him standing there in his underwear, rubbing his eyes? And why wasn't her heart slowing down? No matter how much she wanted to deny it, she was attracted to him.
Angie rubbed her temples. The dull throb still thumped out a hateful melody. It was too early to start work, and she had no desire to go upstairs where Jared was either taking a shower or getting dressed.
For a split second she pictured water from the showerhead beating down on all those tanned muscles. She shook her head to clear the image. She had to stop letting the attraction she felt affect her. This was a man who might really hurt her physically; it didn't matter how gorgeous or built he was, she had to remember that.
She picked her belongings up from the floor and put them on her desk. There's no point in being so wrapped up in a nice body. Angie grinned at her own thoughts. Wrapped up indeed. She went into the kitchen, taking the newspaper with her, praying that the cupboards were stocked.
She needed coffee.
After Jared was safely out of the way, she'd take her clothes upstairs. Once she figured out which bedroom he'd chosen, she'd claim one on the opposite end of the house from his.
* * * *
The aroma of freshly brewed coffee made Jared breath in deeply after he emerged from the bathroom showered, shaved and dressed.
Downstairs, he found Angie sitting in the dining room at the round oak table, absorbed in the newspaper, a cup of the dark brew cradled between her palms.
He didn't want to startle her again so he knocked on the doorjamb to get her attention.
"Morning.” he said when she tilted her head up at him.
She seemed more annoyed than anything else but sounded pleasant just the same. “Good Morning to you.” Her eyes scanned him up and down, before passing him a knowing look.
"I thought it would be better if I put on some clothes.” He crossed the room; then leaned down to whisper in her ear, pressing his cheek against her hair, “But you can feel free to rip them off anytime you'd like."
Jared felt Angie's body stiffen at his words, saw the tiny goose bumps prickling the skin on her arms. He inhaled the lavender fragrance of her shampoo before stepping over to the coffee maker.
"You're something else, Mr. Maxwell."
"So I've been told.” He poured a cup of coffee then sat across from her.
Angie looked up, her brown eyes scrutinizing him. “Let's just set the ground rules right now before we start off on the wrong foot, okay?"
"Okay, Angelina. Let's make the first rule that we call each other by our given names,” he said, staring at her until she became uncomfortable and glanced at the headlines of the paper spread out on the table.
"Fine.” Folding the paper, she pushed it aside. “Then call me Angie. Only Aunt Martha called me Angelina. And I want you to agree to drop the playboy image with me. No flirting, no come ons—nothing. I would like for you to keep your womanizing nature out of this business arrangement."
"Let me get this straight. You think I'm a player?"
Angie gazed at him over the rim of her cup before draining the last of her coffee. “Aren't you?"
"I'll leave that one to your imagination.” He chuckled. “But you know, Angie, you really should get to know a person before judging them."
"So you're telling me that you aren't the type of man to ‘love ‘em and leave ‘em?’ You don't have a string of broken hearts trailing in your wake?” She rose and went to the sink, purposefully turning her back on him.
Jared laughed. “Like I said, I'll leave that one to your imagination. You never know, Angelina Benton ... I might be the most reliable person you've ever met. And, you never know, I might already love you."
"You forgot the ‘and leave me’ part,” Angie said, rinsing out her coffee mug in the sink. She dried her hands on a dishtowel and turned to face him. “Now, I think the next rule should be—"
Unbelievable! He was gone. Yep, that was a pickup line if she'd ever heard one. Why else would a man say something like that and then take off?
Damn him anyway. He was too quick, too quiet. Why did he insist on calling her Angelina? She narrowed her gaze on the empty table and doorway. She had to be more aware of him, especially since he snuck up on her in the dream; then disappeared just as fast.
* * * *
Jared placed the coffee cup on his desk and sat down in his chair. He rubbed his eyes, shook his head slightly.
Was it possible that he was in love with this woman who thought he'd break hearts without a care in the world? And how could she think so little of him?
He'd only been in contact with Angie twice before today. And yeah, he had thought about love at first sight the other day. But he'd disregarded the thought as impossible.
Was that why he acted like a hormonal teenager around her?
Love at first sight. Jared tapped his fingers on his knees and rocked the ch
air from side to side as he considered his feelings. How in the world did this happen to him?
Get a grip, Jared, you've known you loved Angie from the moment you saw her picture in The Variety Vine.
No, I don't have time for this, he told the little voice in his head that goaded him. I'm not so sure it's love.
Lust.
No doubt about that. He wanted her in bed. But did he love her? He couldn't, could he? It was way too early for that. He didn't even know her.
He jumped when Angie slammed her palms on his desk. He grabbed her wrists like a reflex.
"What planet are you on, Maxwell? You walked out on me in the middle of a conversation."
Jared glared at her. She'd caught him so deep in thought that she'd taken him by surprise. His mood darkened. “Don't ever do that again.” He hated people sneaking up on him.
Angie jerked her arms from his grasp, straightened and backed up a step. She opened her mouth to speak, closed it again, and then ran out of the room.
"Perfect.” Jared muttered. “Just perfect."
* * * *
The darkness of night felt like a blanket covering something sinister within the room. Angie lay still in her bed and stared into the shadows, her heart pounding in her ears. There was something wrong. She'd woken up because of the dream, but this felt different.
But what? Maybe it was just nerves. This was her first night sleeping in the Slayton homestead, with Jared right down the hall, after all.
Summoning her courage, Angie got out of bed and felt for the light switch by the door. She flipped it up. The room remained cloaked in darkness.
That's got to be it, she thought. She'd just felt strange because the power went out.
Electricity or not, nature called. The bathroom was at the other end of the hall.
She groped through the darkness for the door handle only to find that the door she had locked before going to bed was now open.
Jared unlocked her door? Her heart pounded a little faster against her ribs. Why would he do that?