by Judi Fennell
She’d been a decent player, but when she’d sat across from him at that table, she hadn’t been able to concentrate on the cards. Her poor tongue had been tripping over itself not to say anything stupid, so much that she’d lost so ridiculously badly that the score alone could make her want to shrivel up in a corner, never mind the fact that she’d probably had stars in her eyes and a goofy expression on her face the entire match—which had lasted less than any other she’d played.
“Want a chance to get even?” Jared asked.
“Me? Now? Here?”
“Yes, why not, and of course.” That darn smile of his was just so appealing. So were his charm and charisma. “Please.”
And saying please . . .
She stood. “I’m guessing the cards are still in the same drawer?”
She didn’t wait for Jared’s response. Even a few-second reprieve would be welcome to put her hormones back in sync with the rational part of her brain that said this was probably not a good idea.
She headed to the sewing kit Mildred used as a wall decoration in the front parlor and opened the third drawer down on the left. The cards had been well used when Gran had brought her and her brothers to visit Mildred.
“You deal first.” Jared slid the lazy Susan to the opposite side of the table after taking a pen and his grandmother’s grocery notepad from it. “I’ll keep score.”
She shook her head. “Oh no you don’t. I’m not that eight-year-old anymore. I remember how well you added—in your favor. You deal and I’ll keep score.”
“Are you accusing me of cheating?”
She shuffled the deck, then placed it facedown in front of him. “If the shoe fits.”
Or was that: Pot, meet kettle?
“I’m not wearing shoes.”
And earlier he hadn’t been wearing pants. Or a shirt. She’d seen more of Jared’s half-naked body than she wanted to. Well, no, that wasn’t quite right; she’d seen more of Jared’s half-naked body than was a good idea. She was still a woman who appreciated a good-looking male form, and Jared’s was off the charts.
“Well, just to keep it honest, Jared, I’ll keep score. Right here in the open so you can check my math. You deal.”
He picked up the cards and shuffled them. “I don’t like what you’re insinuating, Princess.”
“Now where have I heard that before?” She picked up her cards. Hey, a three-of-a-kind already. She’d love to beat him just to show him that she didn’t need to con anyone to win.
Though her card counting skills might come in handy.
She beat him with the first hand.
“Beginner’s luck,” he said, sweeping the cards together.
“I’m not a beginner. I’ve played before.”
He tapped the deck on its long edge, then handed it to her. “Not like that, you haven’t. I distinctly remember annihilating you with every game.”
“Feel good about that, do you?” She shuffled the deck, then dealt, relying on bravado to keep from revealing that the real reason he’d been able to beat her back then was she hadn’t been concentrating on the cards. Not when his hair had been lightened by the sun, his skin tanned, and those incredible green eyes that she used to dream about and that smile had been right there for her enjoyment.
But she was concentrating now. She wanted to beat him.
Jared picked up the top card from the draw pile and discarded a two of clubs. “What other jobs have you had, Mac? I don’t really know much about what you’ve been doing with your life.”
Obviously Mildred hadn’t been singing her praises as much as Gran had sung his. She picked up the two and stuck it with the other two in her hand, discarding a six of diamonds. “I waited tables. That was pretty lucrative as well, but start-up costs for a restaurant are a lot steeper than for a cleaning business.”
He picked up the six. “I guess a couple of dust mops and brooms don’t cost all that much.”
She passed on the eight of spades he discarded and took one from the draw pile. “And vacuum cleaners and carpet cleaners, and hardwood floor steamers. Let’s not forget that. Those things add up. Especially when you multiply the cost by four or five employees. Then there’s the van. I pick it up this week.” She tapped the tip of the jack of hearts with the jack of diamonds. He was collecting diamonds but getting all four jacks would be tough.
“Van?”
She kept the jack and discarded the nine. “Yes, a work van. Right now I reimburse mileage and some of my employee’s car insurance, but eventually, I’d like a fleet of Manley Maids trucks on the roads for branding. We’re using car magnets for now to get the name out, but to look professional, you have to be professional.”
Jared picked up a card from the deck and tapped its edge on the table. “I’m impressed. I hadn’t really given a lot of thought to what it took to start up a business like this. I thought you just needed clients.”
“You do, but there are a lot of companies competing for the business. That’s why I needed something to make my business stand out above the competition.”
“Hence your brothers in maids’ outfits.”
“Exactly.” She looked at him. He was staring at her, and she wasn’t quite sure how she should feel about that.
Well, self-conscious for one. She was always self-conscious when Jared looked at her. If she’d kept her big, hopeful trap shut that night on Gran’s walkway, she might not feel awkward around him.
But she hadn’t, so she’d had to deal with the consequences. “You going to play that card?”
“Huh?” He looked at the card in his right hand, then switched it out for one in his left. “Sounds like you have a plan, Mac.”
“I’d better because you don’t get ahead by wishing. You have to make things happen.” She picked up another card and laid down her hand. “Gin.”
* * *
JARED was looking at this woman across from him, someone he thought he knew, but hearing the words and plans come out of her mouth, he was having a hard time reconciling this entrepreneurial businesswoman with the pig-tailed kid who’d ruined a make-out session with Jamie Sheridan.
He liked what he was seeing. And that was a problem.
He threw down his hand, not even close to beating her. If she’d played him, he didn’t know how. “Same time tomorrow? Give me a chance to kick your butt?” He pulled his crutches to the table and stood up.
“I’ll give you the chance, just don’t expect to do it. Score’s not even close.” She tapped the eraser end of the pencil on the paper. “Read ’em and weep, Jared.”
“Big boys don’t cry. And there’s still time to beat you.”
She shrugged and stacked the cards and the score sheet on the lazy Susan. “Big words. Let’s see if you can pull it off next time.”
“You’re on.” The kittens started making their presence known. “Man, they’re hungry.”
“What can I do to help?”
Kiss me. The thought popped into his head along with an image of that stupid, what-was-he-thinking kiss. He should never have done it. Should have kept his distance. Because now he knew exactly what Mac tasted like. How she felt. How she fit in his arms.
“Grab the bottles and I’ll get the paper towels.”
By the time they made it to the pen, there was a lovely mess that needed to be cleaned and four kittens to bathe. Again.
“Are you kidding me? Where does that come from? They’re not that big.” Jared held his breath as he grabbed a damp paper towel and picked up Larry.
Mac waved the bottle. “What goes in, must come out.”
“You failed to mention that when you told me I had to take care of these things.”
“It’s not my job to know what you don’t know.” She quickly made up the four bottles, then took Larry from him once he’d cleaned the little messy fur ball up.
; Larry sucked on the bottle, his slurps only escalating the mews from his siblings. Jared worked fast to get the rest of them clean, and, like an assembly line, he’d finish one, then pass it to Mac, who popped a bottle in its mouth. She had a good system, propping the bottle on the back of the previous one, so by the time he’d finished with Curly, Larry was almost done eating, and the other two were contentedly sucking away.
“I’ll feed this one.”
She tapped Shemp’s back. “Put him here. You have to clean the pen.”
“I thought they were supposed to use the litter box.” He looked at the pan he’d filled for that purpose. Pristine as that desktop Zen garden sand thing his catcher had given their coach after the diatribe when they’d lost the opening game last season.
“They’re babies, Jared. They have to learn. You have to teach them.”
“I thought I had,” he muttered, wiping down one particularly ominous spot on the carpet where someone had gone burrowing beneath the towels he’d laid down for this specific reason. “This is going to leave a stain.”
“I have something in my arsenal for that. Don’t worry; I’ll take care of it.”
“You’re on.” He gathered up the towels with one hand, balancing himself on his other hand and his good leg, praying to God he wouldn’t topple onto the play yard, taking that out with him.
“I think there’s a yoga pose like that,” she said. “Balancing table, I believe it’s called.”
“I don’t do yoga.”
“Um, yeah, you kinda are.” She made no attempt to hide the chuckle in her voice.
He turned to glare at her and—damn—fell over. Onto the play yard. Thankfully it was only plastic, but it still didn’t do his ribs any favors.
“Jared!” Mac was beside him by the time he could take a breath. “Are you all right? What can I do?”
“Get away from me.” He didn’t want her help. He was so damn sick of needing help.
He felt her recoil, and saw the hurt look on her face.
Dammit. Could he ever, just once, not bark at her?
“I’m sorry, Mac.” The words crawled out through his gritted teeth, the second breath coming just a tad easier than the first. The pain hurt like hell and so did apologizing. Christ, he’d done more apologizing in the last twenty-four hours than he’d done in the last twenty-four years. And all of it was to Mac.
And all with reason, which was the part he hated the most. He wasn’t usually a dick, and Mac certainly didn’t deserve it.
Having her here was taking a toll. Suddenly finding her attractive—and not just physically—was wreaking havoc with his preconceived ideas of her and the whole thing about wanting to stay away from emotional entanglements. That wasn’t going to be as easy as he thought with Mac.
“I’m sorry, Mac. It’s a gut reaction. I’ve had it with being poked and prodded. First the doctors, then rehab . . .” He struggled to get up onto his butt, no easy feat with his ribs protesting.
“I get that.” She sat back, her fingers far enough from his skin that he couldn’t feel them.
But the memory lingered.
“You must have felt so out of control. At the whim of Fate, unable to do anything for yourself, always having to rely on others. That must suck.”
He looked at her. Really looked at her. “Yeah. That’s exactly it. I’m so tired of asking for help, of having to relearn things or figure out new ways of doing things.” Especially when he hadn’t caused it. That was what rankled the most; if not for Camille’s greed and duplicity, he wouldn’t be in this situation and he could be living the life he’d worked so damn hard for. “I didn’t expect you to understand.”
Of course he didn’t. Because he always thought the worst of her.
Mac didn’t know why she’d bothered. She should have just left him there.
Except he was Jared and old habits die hard.
She rolled back onto her heels and pivoted toward the wingback where she’d dumped the kittens behind a couple of pillows. She picked them up before Curly took a header onto the floor. “These guys are all fed, and have obviously done their business. All you have to do is play with them to tire them out, then they should sleep for a few hours.”
She picked up a knitting basket off the floor, dumped out the contents and put the kittens in it. “Where should I put them?”
“Anywhere.” Pain flashed across his face. Real pain, not the frustration she’d seen before.
She’d never seen Jared at a disadvantage like she had these past couple of days. Never in all the years she’d known and puppy-loved him had she ever known him to be anything less than one hundred percent confident. He always had a plan, always knew what came next and how to achieve his goals. It’d made him the ball player he was—and the pain in the ass, too. So to see him suffering, sprawled on the floor . . .
“Jared, you were right. You can’t do this. The kittens are too much.”
“Can it, Princess. Don’t go telling me what I can and can’t do. I can take care of a couple of kittens, for God’s sake.”
“You need help.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking, Mary-Alice,” came a new voice from the foyer.
Another brownie delivery? Mac was sure she’d locked the front door.
She looked over her shoulder as Jared’s eyes narrowed.
“Grandma.”
“Hello, sweetheart. Mary-Alice is right, you know. You really shouldn’t be doing this by yourself.” Mildred—Jared’s grandmother—took a few more steps into the parlor. “That’s why I’m moving back in.”
“No.” Jared hauled himself onto his elbows.
“I beg your pardon?” Mildred crossed her arms and tapped her foot.
Uh oh. Mac knew what that meant. Mildred and Gran were friends and shared many of the same mannerisms. This was one Mac never wanted to be on the receiving end of.
“I’m sorry, Grandma. I just meant that you don’t have to. You have your new place, why would you want to come back here?”
Mildred’s eyes narrowed. “I might be in an old folks’ home, Jared, but I don’t have one foot in the grave. You can’t force me out of my own home. I do still own this place.”
“I know. I just meant—”
“I’m sure what Jared’s trying to say, Mrs. Nolan, is that you shouldn’t disrupt your life to take care of a bunch of kittens.” Mac had to jump in and save the emotions here because she didn’t want Mildred to end up getting hurt and Jared was hurting too much to think straight—as she had first-hand knowledge of. “We’ll manage.”
“We?” Mildred got the biggest smile on her face. “Then you’ll help my grandson, Mary-Alice?”
“Um, yeah. Sure.” Mac smiled as sweetly as she could through gritted teeth. She should have kept her big mouth shut. The last thing she wanted to do was feed Gran’s and Mildred’s hopes. She wasn’t stupid; she knew exactly where Mildred was going with this. The problem was she couldn’t stop it without hurting two people she loved.
Never mind that if she didn’t stop it, she could end up getting hurt.
“Oh, good.” Mildred clasped her hands in front of her heart like a kid in a candy store. “Now that I know you’ll be staying here, I can rest easy.”
“Stay here? Oh, but I wasn’t going—”
“Nonsense, dear. Of course you must. Why, you see how hard this is for him.” Mildred nodded at Jared.
A glowering Jared.
Great. One step forward, six steps back.
“Grandma . . .”
Mildred waved him off. “It’s settled, then. Mary-Alice will stay until you’re better, Jared. That way, I won’t have to worry about you injuring yourself even more. Otherwise, I’ll have to move back in myself.” She patted Mac on her shoulder. “Thank you, Mary-Alice. I can’t tell you how relieved I am.”
That
made one of them.
Chapter Twelve
NO way. Not happening. Mac was not going to spend a single minute of darkness beneath this roof. He didn’t need another moment of “curiosity.” Bad enough he’d been tempted—and had acted on it—in broad daylight; darkness put a whole different spin on things.
“Don’t you think that’s a wonderful idea, Jared?” Grandma had a smile on her face as big as the scar on his thigh, and telling her no would hurt more.
Shit.
“Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks.”
“Gee, sound a little grateful, would you?” said Mac. “Make a girl feel wanted.”
That was the problem—he did want her, as surprising as that was. And not to take care of kittens or bring him pain meds in the middle of the night.
Now if, on the other hand, she wanted to fluff his pillows, well, he might be open to that idea.
“Pain meds. Bathroom cabinet. Top shelf. Please.” It wasn’t rib pain that was making him speak in broken sentences.
“Mary-Alice, dear, would you mind?”
“Sure. No problem.” Mac hopped to her feet and ran out the door in a way that made him decide the uniform wasn’t so bad after all.
Get your eyes off her ass.
“What are you doing here, Grandma? I didn’t know you were planning to show up.”
“I own the place, Jared. I wasn’t aware that I had to announce my visit.”
“I’m sorry. I’m—”
“In pain. Yes, I know.”
That wasn’t what he’d been going to say, but arguing with her about Mac staying here would do no good. He’d have to do that directly with Mac.
Grandma sat on the sofa. “I wish I could help you get up, but I’m afraid I’m not strong enough and I wouldn’t want to injure you more. That’s why it’s much better for Mary-Alice to stay. She’s in better shape than me. Perhaps she can help you—”
“No.” He didn’t need to think about Mac’s shape and he definitely didn’t need it anywhere near him. “Don’t bother. I can do it. I just need the pain meds.” Or a couple shots of whisky just to take the edge off.