“Sure.”
For the next half hour, Jake went back and forth getting the vases from the back room while Claire arranged everything on the truck. She was interrupted at least ten times by different employees and by phone calls on her BlackBerry. Not once did she lose her cool or look the least bit annoyed at all the questions. After the last van was loaded and all the employees gone, she turned to him. They were standing in the back room, which now looked as though a tornado had swept through and ripped up a rose garden.
“Okay, I need ten minutes to change and then I’m out of here.”
“You need to change?”
“Yeah,” she said, grabbing a suit wrapped in dry-cleaner’s plastic out of a closet and walking toward what looked like a washroom. “Because now I’m going to make sure everything at all the churches is being set up properly, give my best to the brides, and then I’m done! I usually try to look professional.”
He nodded. She did this every week? How did she plan on keeping this up as her pregnancy progressed? He felt a tightness in his stomach at the impending arguments he knew were inevitable when he told her she was going to have to slow down. One problem at a time.
She was about to close the door to the washroom when she turned to look at him. “You really don’t have to wait.”
“I want to.”
She sighed and turned around, closing the door behind her.
He looked around the room while she changed. He wasn’t much for flowers, but he had to say the smell in the room was pretty amazing, like a hundred spring gardens jammed into one.
He could hear Claire answer the phone and talk, obviously still getting ready as he heard the hanger clank against the door, the sound of plastic tearing, and inevitably his thoughts led to Claire without her clothes on. He was a pig. Really, the woman was pregnant, for crying out loud, and he was picturing her naked.
He pushed away from the counter and stood at attention, trying not to look guilty as she walked out. But guilt didn’t stop him from taking in the picture she made as she emerged in a crisp navy suit that fit her like a glove…a glove he would have given a million dollars to be. Under the suit jacket was a clingy pink camisole that hinted at awesome cleavage, but was buttoned modestly. She had let her shiny hair out of the ponytail, and it fell in waves over her shoulders. She had applied makeup too. Claire was a woman who turned heads.
“Let’s go,” she said, avoiding eye contact as she walked passed him, her high heels echoing on the ceramic tile floor. He caught a whiff of that trademark Claire scent as she walked by him. He was becoming addicted.
After she locked up they walked across the empty parking lot to her pearl-colored Volvo SUV.
She drove a Volvo and he drove a Harley. That about summed up all their differences right there.
“Thanks for your help,” Claire said, climbing onto the gray leather seat. He held the door open, his left hand bracing the rim of the door.
Jake watched as she shut her eyes and took a deep breath.
“No problem. My pleasure. You’ve got quite the business going. I had no idea.”
She smiled but didn’t turn to look at him. “Thanks. I got lucky, I guess. I opened when the area didn’t have any high-end floral boutiques for weddings. It’s a niche market, and timing was everything. The business boomed before it had a chance to sink.”
Claire was modest. He was finding out so much about her, and the more he found out, the more…he was attracted to her. “Well, I’m sure it was more than luck.”
She placed her key in the ignition but didn’t start the car. He knew she had to go.
He leaned against the car, his hand gripping the open window ledge. “So what’s your favorite place to eat?”
She gave him a sidelong glance. For a second it looked like she was going to argue again. “I could go for some Greek food.”
“Really? I love Greek.”
She looked uncomfortable about that. “Jake, are you sure—”
“I’ll pick you up at seven, Claire.” He closed the door gently on her imminent rebuttal.
He waved as she pulled out of the parking space.
He had to make Claire happy.
He had to prove her father right.
And he had to prove his father wrong.
Chapter Four
“Thanks for meeting with me on a Saturday, William. I will get these papers to my lawyer on Monday and we’ll see how quickly we can get this settled,” Jake said, bracing his hands on the armrest and getting ready to stand. But the elderly man waved his hand, motioning him to remain seated. Jake sat back in the well-worn chair, the leather crinkling as he stretched his legs out in front of him. He liked William. He couldn’t see how the man could get along with Eunice Jacobs, but then again that wasn’t his business. And who was he to judge? He was sure everyone would be commenting on why Claire Holbrook would ever hook up with him.
William Walters had run a fine construction company but was now approaching retirement. When Jake had first heard that William was stepping down, his interest was piqued. His loyalty to Quinn had prevented him from really pursuing the idea. But after Quinn’s wedding, and the sudden urge for change that had gripped him, he placed a late-night phone call to William and told him he was ready to talk.
“Jake, I’ve known your family for years,” he said, his gravelly voice still strong despite him being in his mid-eighties. “And your father was a good man.”
His parents had been well known and liked in the community. They were a wealthy but generous family. Jake certainly wasn’t going to be airing any skeletons from the old Manning closet, so he forced the muscles that automatically tensed when someone mentioned his deceased father to relax and tried to look half-normal.
“Thanks, William,” Jake said. He glanced down at his watch quickly—he had one hour before he went to pick up Claire.
“Just wanted to tell you I’ve seen your work over the years and you’ve got a lot of talent, the kind no school can give a man, raw talent. So if this goes through I’m going to be damn happy,” William said, his weathered face crinkling up into a smile as he leaned across the big old desk to shake Jake’s hand.
He fought his own surge of unexpected emotion at the man’s praise. In one sentence, he’d given Jake more than his father ever had. Jake grasped his wrinkled hand, not surprised that William’s handshake was still powerful.
“That means a lot to me, especially coming from someone with your background. You’re as good as it gets as far as builders go.”
“Well, it’s the truth,” William said with a grin and a wink as he fired up a trademark cigar. He offered one to Jake, but he declined with a shake of his head. Jake pushed aside the guilt he felt at the prospect of completing this transaction. He knew he was going to have a hell of a lot of explaining to do. And without ever revealing the truth, it was going to be hard to make anyone, especially Quinn or Claire, understand. There was no way he was going to come across as anything but a giant jerk. But his gut told him this was right. This was the only way to make things right for Claire, for Quinn, for his future child. He just had to keep focused on that.
“So, is part of the reason you’re rushing this through because you’re about to become a dad?” William asked with a cough.
Jake ran his hands over his face and stifled the curse on the edge of his lips. He prayed William hadn’t heard exactly how it happened. That would be damn embarrassing.
“I heard Claire Holbrook slapped you and poked your burger with one of those pregnancy sticks,” William said with a hearty laugh as clouds of cigar smoke billowed around him.
Jake silently cursed every gossip in Red River. He gave a terse nod, hoping his less-than-enthusiastic answer would at least temper William’s laughter. “Yeah, something like that.”
“Well, congratulations are in order, my boy. You couldn’t have found a better woman or mother for your child,” he said.
The only problem is she wants nothing to do with me. But Jak
e knew he was right. He had known it as soon as the reality of it all set in. He didn’t deserve Claire, but in a way he felt as though he’d been given a second chance. Maybe it was poetic justice, all things considered.
“Thanks, I know,” he said, finally rising. “And I hear you’ve got your eye on one of Red River’s finest.” He smiled hard as the old man actually looked as though he was blushing.
“Well, Eunice is a good woman. I’ve been alone a long time, and as much as I got used to having things my own way, I’ll be the first to admit I missed a woman’s company. Being old and alone isn’t good,” William said, bracing his large hands on the desk and then standing. He must have been a strong, intimidating man in his younger days, Jake thought, as William straightened himself to a still-impressive height.
“You both deserve to be happy,” Jake said, starting for the door. “I guess I don’t need to mention I don’t want anyone to know about this deal until I’m ready, okay?”
“I’ve made it a policy to never mix business and pleasure. Don’t you worry. If you don’t mind my asking, why aren’t you doing this deal with your brother?”
Jake rubbed his hand over his mouth. “I needed something for myself. Quinn is a good guy, but I want my name on the front of this building.”
William frowned. “You already have the Manning name on your business.”
But he wasn’t really a Manning. He was just the filthy bastard son that his parents had been forced to raise. “It’s really Quinn’s business,” Jake said, tearing his gaze away from William’s. Claire’s father was the only person who knew the truth about him. He wasn’t about to confide in him.
“All right then, Jake, you give me a call when we’re ready for final signatures,” the old man said with a wave of his hand.
Jake gave him a nod and then left the wood-paneled office. He felt good about what he was doing. He would just have to make Quinn understand somehow. He was going to be able to give Claire the life she deserved. Maybe one day she would feel proud to be married to him. Maybe their child would be proud of him. Maybe he or she would look up to him.
Maybe Jake Manning could be the man he thought he could be before his father started telling him he was nothing.
Large, fat raindrops splattered across Jake’s iPhone screen. He sat on top of his Harley, parked beside Claire’s Volvo, on her driveway, blankly staring at the text she must have sent him while he was at William Walters’s house:
“Sorry Jake, too tired for dinner tonight. Maybe some other time. Claire.”
She was canceling on him? Some other time? When? After the baby was born? He scowled and wiped the accumulating water drops off his screen. He slipped his phone into his jacket pocket and walked toward her front door. She was back to giving him the cold shoulder.
He ignored the whispering in his ear, the whispers that accompanied him whenever failure was imminent, the voice that refused to be silent whenever things went wrong, seemed to come from nowhere, telling him this was his own fault. He was getting what he deserved. Claire and the baby were better off without him. And he hated that the voice was his father’s. Jake shrugged his shoulders, willing that voice to stay in the recesses of his mind.
He knocked twice and waited. And waited. After what must have been a few minutes he tried the door. Locked. Jake let out a frustrated sigh. Claire didn’t want to see him, but he wasn’t going to give up. He took a step back and that’s when he noticed there weren’t any lights on in the house. Dusk had set in now, so either she wasn’t home or she was sleeping. She had said she was tired, and she’d looked tired. He didn’t want to leave her, though.
He made his way down the porch and rounded the corner to the backyard. Just last night he’d been here, thinking his whole life had been turned upside down. And now…well, not much had changed. Claire wasn’t there. On the off chance she was ignoring him and sitting inside her house, he went up to the kitchen door and peered through the glass. No sign of her. No lights, nothing.
He tried the door and to his surprise, the knob turned, and he let himself in. Why hadn’t she locked the door? He closed the door behind him and took off his wet boots before walking through the kitchen into the hallway. He spotted her navy heels at the bottom of the staircase. He walked up the steps lightly. There were four doors. One looked like storage, the other a spare room, and the other a bathroom. The last room had its door almost shut. Jake knocked lightly and the door swung open.
A white antique-looking bed sat on the far wall of the bedroom, with Claire sprawled on top of a pink-and-cream floral duvet. She was still wearing her suit skirt and top, the jacket in a heap beside her. She must be exhausted, he thought, as he walked across the room. The only sound was her deep, even breathing. Her dark hair stood out against the pale duvet, her cheeks slightly flushed. Without thinking, he reached out, his hands having a mind of their own, helpless as they brushed a piece of impossibly silky hair off her face. His hand flexed painfully as he made himself pull away from her.
Jake drew a deep breath, taking a few steps away from Claire. He spotted a white throw blanket on a nearby chair and laid it on top of her, grateful to have something else to focus on besides how attracted he was to her. When she wasn’t angry with him, she looked vulnerable, soft, and sweet. And as he tucked the blanket around her, another feeling took him by surprise— he wanted to protect her. He wanted to make her happy. Jake clenched his fists tightly in his pocket as he stared at Claire. He wanted to make everything right. The thought of Claire hating him hurt. The thought of her marrying someone else felt wrong.
He stared at her another moment, found a pad of notepaper and quickly scribbled that he was downstairs, and placed it beside her. A stack of books on the dresser caught his eye. Baby and pregnancy books. He glanced at his watch and then back at her. She needed her rest.
Three hours later, Jake shut the cover on What to Expect When You’re Expecting, feeling somewhat more enlightened. He felt like he had a bit of a handle on the physical changes coming their way, but he was more concerned about the emotional. There was a lot at stake for both of them. This baby meant so much more to him than Claire could ever know. The thought of her shutting him out of his child’s life, or even limiting his involvement, filled him with dread and fear. He had to make her trust him enough to marry him. He thought about it over and over again, and despite her naive notion of marrying for love, he needed her to see the merit in them getting married for practicality.
The sound of a car door slamming jarred him from his thoughts. The takeout had arrived. He glanced down at his watch, surprised at the time, and that Claire was still sleeping. He cursed under his breath, jumping off the sofa as the doorbell rang five times in a row. He had told the restaurant to knock softly and not ring the bell. He whipped the door open, ready to hammer into the delivery guy for ringing the bell, but one look at the scrawny, blond teenage boy told him it wouldn’t sink in.
“Here’s your order,” he squawked, handing Jake five large paper bags.
“I told you guys not to ring the bell,” Jake grumbled as he handed the boy enough money to cover the tip as well.
“Sorry, buddy. Nobody told me,” he answered, clearly more interested in counting how much his tip was.
“Jake?” The sound of Claire’s soft voice ended what would have been his reprimanding the boy. He swung the door shut with his foot.
…
Claire stood at the top of the stairs, not sure if she was angry that Jake was in her house, or angry with herself because when she’d first woken, still drowsy and unguarded, she’d read his note and had been excited he was here. She had changed into jeans and a pink hooded sweatshirt. He appeared seconds after she called him.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, still not coming down, irritated by the sudden fluttery feeling in her stomach as he smiled up at her. Seriously, the man could make jeans and a henley look like something on a magazine cover. The soft cotton of his shirt clung to his wide shoulders and his hea
vily muscled arms. And sadly for her, she remembered exactly the way he looked and felt.
“You tried to stand me up,” he said, the amusement in his voice swiftly taking care of any latent feelings of desire she had. Until she noticed how blue his eyes looked. He smiled smugly at her. He was probably very proud of himself for thinking he caught her in a lie.
“No. If I wanted to stand you up I wouldn’t have texted you. I just canceled politely,” she said stiffly, avoiding eye contact. But when he uttered a sarcastic scoff, she knew he wasn’t buying it. It had occurred to her after she pulled out of the parking lot earlier that she had already caved to Jake. He had left town, left her pregnant, and then all he had to do was charm her into agreeing to go out for dinner with him? Next thing she’d be agreeing to marry the man. That was absolutely not ever going to happen. Jake, the fantasy man of her youth, was very different from the real man. The fantasy man would never have left. And everyone knew full well that Jake had a reputation for running. The last thing she needed was to get close to him while she was in a vulnerable position and have him leave. And what about her…their child? It would be devastating to have a father just up and leave whenever the going got rough. No, despite her attraction, despite everything, she needed to guard herself.
“Yeah, well, we both know why you really canceled,” he said with a half grin that made him look mischievous. And sexy. This was not going well at all for her. At least his arrogance should help dissipate any more unwanted thoughts of attraction in her mind.
“Really,” she said, crossing her arms. She wanted to hear this.
“You canceled on me because you’re trying to shut me out. You’re trying to push me away,” Jake said as he climbed the stairs until he was two steps below her, at her eye level. She refused to acknowledge that the sudden proximity of his body coupled with his delicious smell sent her heartbeat into serious overdrive. Claire swallowed hard. Focus. She was trying to shut him out, but she wasn’t going to make any apologies for it. She raised her chin and looked him straight in the eye.
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