by Susan Gable
"Sweetheart, you are definitely all woman, don't kid yourself."
"I'm not what you need, Jake."
Jake suddenly reached over and snapped on the light.
Harley closed her eyes against the brightness. Damn him, why couldn't he leave well enough alone? If he pressed her, if she had to look into those blue eyes and see his compassion, or even worse, if she actually saw love, she'd never be able to follow through with their arrangement. She steeled herself to present a calm facade.
"You have no idea what you're talking about," he insisted. "You have plenty to offer—"
"I have nothing to offer. Nothing. I'm a poor choice to bet your future on, Jake. I'm my mother's daughter. I'll leave you and the baby eventually. It's in my blood."
"I don't believe that, and neither do you. I've watched you with the twins. You're great with them—"
"Oh, yeah, the world's greatest aunt. Aunts don't have to take care of kids, Jake. They don't have to do the hard things. Being an aunt is not the same as being a mother."
"No, it's not, but you can be a mother. I believe in you."
"Well, then you're a bigger damn fool than I thought!" Harley clutched her pillow to her chest, hoping to muffle the pain in her heart. Half of her longed to throw herself into his arms and swallow every word he said; the other half realized the most wonderful man in the world, a real live Mr. Nice Guy, deserved far better than an ex-con with a sordid past and less-than-sterling social graces.
Jake jumped to his feet. "I don't understand you at all. You say you're tired of being returned, but when I want you to stay, you say you'll leave eventually, regardless. What the hell is wrong with you?"
"There's nothing wrong with me. I am who I am."
"You don't have a clue who the hell you are! And that's your problem, Harley. Maybe when you figure it out, you'll know what you want." He stalked to the doorway, then turned to stare at her. "The offer is on the table. I want you to stay. I love you."
"Pretty words," she mumbled.
"I'll always love you, no matter what you decide to do."
"Empty promises." She picked at a loose thread in the bedspread's side seam.
A low rumble issued from his throat. "When my mother left him, my stepfather begged her to stay. It didn't change her mind. I won't beg, Harley. And here's one promise I intend to keep—I won't let you take the baby from me. That's my child, and I have as many legal rights to him as you do. So you'd better decide what you want. I already know what I want. And you know where to find me when you make up your mind." He slapped his hand over the light switch, plunging the room into darkness again as he marched off.
Harley blinked back tears and lowered herself onto the bed, still clutching the pillow. "Oh, Peanut. I wish I could believe him. But he doesn't really want me. His head's buzzing from the holiday and he's scared I'm going to try to take you away from him. It's you he wants, baby, not me."
What if it's real? What if he does love you?
She wished she had as much faith in herself as he seemed to. He was offering the dream of her lifetime—a real family. If only she could measure up and be what he and their child deserved…
* * *
Chapter 15
«^»
Harley leaned over the Toyota's engine. Her mechanical tinkering contradicted her new desire to measure up to the standards of a typical wife and mother. But if Jake wanted reality, she'd give him the real Harley, the grease monkey from the wrong side of the tracks. That's who I am, and I'm not ashamed of it.
Hell, she didn't know what she wanted anymore.
The doorbell rang. The dogs leapt to their feet and raced up the steps, waiting by the kitchen door to be let into the house. Benji yapped, while Pepper's deeper bark bounced off the garage walls. The wrench slipped from Harley's grasp to clatter to the concrete floor and she banged her head on the truck's raised hood. "Damn it." She rubbed her skull just over her right ear.
"Harley, would you get that?" Jake's voice came from the basement stairs. "I've got my hands full down here!"
She glanced at her grease-stained fingers. Like she didn't? She yanked an old red handkerchief from the back pocket of her denim overalls and began removing some of the grime while she trudged up the steps. The second she opened the screen door, the dogs were off and charging through the house. "Sure, no problem," she called down to the cellar, hoping he caught the sarcastic edge.
In the four days since Christmas, they'd been prickly with each other. Jake acted extremely attentive toward her yet distant at the same time, as though trying to provide her with reasons to stay but not wanting to get his hopes up. Harley wanted to believe his pretty words, wanted to believe the two of them could make it work, but fear prevented that.
She hurried through the kitchen and headed for the front door, still wiping grease from her fingers. The doorbell chimed again, twice in quick succession. "Don't get your valves stuck, I'm coming," she muttered, tucking the rag back in her pocket.
Her greasy hand slipped on the door handle and the dogs jostled her. "Get back, you beasts." She nudged them with her foot, tightened her grasp on the gold handle and flung open the door. "Can I…" The greeting died in her throat.
An elegant blond woman in a full-length gray fur and a man with salt-and-pepper hair, wearing a long navy-blue wool coat, stood on the front porch. She held a large wicker basket. The gentleman removed his hat, inclining his head in greeting. "We're looking for Jake Manning."
The dogs shot out the door, nuzzling the couple's feet, snuffling and wagging a welcome. The woman glanced scornfully down at them, then leveled an icy stare at Harley from beneath well-plucked, perfectly arched brows.
"Sorry about them." Harley snapped her fingers. "You guys get back in here now." She stepped onto the porch and grabbed Pepper by the collar, hauling the dog inside. Benji scampered into the house without further encouragement. "Come on in." Harley held the door open and ushered the elegant couple into the foyer, closing the door behind them.
"Jake's working down in the basement. Who shall I tell him is here?"
The man inclined his head again, offering her his hand. "I'm Theodore Spandler. And you are?"
"Harley. I'm … Jake's wife." She pumped the man's hand enthusiastically, pleased with his firm grip. "It's nice to meet you."
"This is my wife, Daphene."
The woman shifted the basket into her left arm and extended her fingertips, giving her an up-and-down glance. As they brushed fingers, Harley realized what she must look like through this woman's eyes, wearing a pair of denim maternity overalls with only one shoulder fastened, a tight, long-sleeved T-shirt underneath it, and the greasy rag hanging out of her pocket.
Grease. Harley snatched her hand back from Daphene's, but it was too late. The woman held her hand disdainfully in the air as though she'd been infected with some kind of plague.
"Oh, I'm sorry about that. I was working on my truck—"
Daphene sniffed and thrust the basket into her husband's arms. "How … quaint. If you would be so kind as to direct me to the powder room, I'll just tidy up."
"The bathroom—" Harley emphasized the word "—is through the living room, then turn left into the hallway. First door on your right. Can't miss it."
The hard heels of Mrs. Spandler's elegant, fur-trimmed boots beat a rhythm against the wooden floor as she walked across the living room. Harley returned her attention to Mr. Spandler, who tactfully shoved his white handkerchief back into his pocket at her glance. "I'll go get Jake," she informed him.
"Thank you very much."
Cheeks hot with embarrassment, she snapped her fingers again and quickly retreated, the dogs at her heels. The Spandlers. Of all people to appear in front of looking like a grease monkey, it had to be the Spandlers? Poor Jake. He was going to be furious when he found out.
This was exactly the kind of thing she'd been afraid of. He deserved a wife who wouldn't humiliate him with his clients. Damn it, why did she have to pick today to
fool around with the truck?
On her way through the kitchen, Harley grabbed a couple of treats for the dogs. She opened the screen door to the garage and tossed the biscuits onto the cement floor, then closed the door behind Benji and Pepper. Bad enough she'd smeared grease on the Spandlers; at least now the dogs wouldn't shed or slobber on them. She stood at the top of the basement steps. "Jake, you need to come upstairs. There are some people here to see you. The Spandlers."
"Did you say Spandlers?" His voice echoed up the stairs.
"Yes, that's what I said."
He clattered upstairs and rushed past her. "What the hell are they doing here?"
"I don't know, but Jake, there's something I need to tell you…" She trailed along behind him.
"Not now, Harley," he murmured over his shoulder.
"But Jake…"
Too late. He'd already reached the foyer where Mr. Spandler still stood, hat in his hands.
"Mr. Spandler, how nice to see you again." Jake thrust out his hand, and the hotel mogul grasped it. "What brings you to Erie?" The men disengaged hands. Jake gazed down at his palm, then looked at Mr. Spandler, who shrugged apologetically and smiled in Harley's direction.
Please, let the floor open up and swallow me now. Harley grinned weakly at Jake, who turned back to Mr. Spandler.
"The hotel is involved in First Night Erie, so we wanted to come to town for the celebration. We decided to get here a few nights early to take care of some other business."
"Please, won't you come in? Have a seat." Jake gestured toward the living room. "Can I take your coat?"
Harley almost groaned. Good grief, Mr. Spandler must think her a totally inept social moron. She hadn't even thought to offer him a seat.
"Thank you." Mr. Spandler handed Jake the expensive-looking coat and followed him to the living room. He sank gracefully to the sofa cushions.
"Jake, darling, there you are." Daphene Spandler glided past Harley in a cloud of sickeningly sweet perfume. The woman extended her hand to Jake, who accepted it with a pleased smile Harley longed to wipe off his face. Daphene air-kissed his cheek. "Aren't you surprised?"
"I certainly am."
Harley hesitantly cleared her throat. "Can I get anyone something to drink? Coffee, tea?"
Mr. Spandler waved a hand. "Oh, no, dear, thank you very much." He glanced down at his gold watch. "In fact, we can't stay too long. We have dinner reservations in an hour." He looked pointedly at Jake. "In fact, we made reservations for three, hoping you'd join us. We had some business we wanted to discuss with you." He glanced back at Harley. "You didn't tell us about your beautiful wife, Jake. Now I understand your hesitancy to leave town for two months. Especially with her expecting."
He hadn't spoken about her while he was gone. This man, who now professed to love her, hadn't even told these snobs about her or the baby. He'd worked with them for two whole months, and he hadn't even mentioned her. Harley's heart ached. Maybe the other night had only been pretty words and empty promises.
"I'd like some sparkling water with lemon." Mrs. Spandler didn't even look in Harley's direction. She leaned over to snatch the wicker basket from her husband's arm. "Honey, you didn't give this to Jake yet?" Saccharine smile plastered on her face, she presented the gift to him with a flourish. "A little Christmas cheer, darling. There's some pâté and caviar, along with a bottle of superb champagne."
Harley's stomach heaved at the thought of liver paste and fish eggs. How in the world did rich people eat such horrible things?
"Thank you, Mrs. Spandler." Jake brought the so-called "goodies" to Harley. "Will you take this into the kitchen, sweetheart?" He turned back to Mr. Spandler. "I'm sorry. Dinner sounds very nice, although I wouldn't dream of going without my wife. However, I certainly look forward to doing more business with you." He turned to stare at Harley. "Provided it doesn't mean leaving home again…"
Maybe he did care? Damn, she couldn't make up her mind whether she wanted him to love her or not. No matter what, she had to leave in the end. Because he deserved more. Better that he didn't love her, she decided.
"In any event, I already have plans for the evening." Jake nodded at the clock on the wall. "As a matter of fact, my sister will be dropping off her twin daughters any minute."
Mrs. Spandler's vibrant red lips twisted into a pout. "Surely your wife could take care of the children? Darling, this really is critical."
Maybe she wants a little cheese with that whine? Harley stifled a snort at the woman's behavior. The last time she'd seen that expression had been on the face of a three-year-old. Grace, to be exact.
"I don't think so…"
"But Theo and I have been talking about building a new house, and we wanted to see if you had some ideas. We're considering having you do the design. You know we'll pay you very well."
Harley couldn't come between him and the opportunity of continued work with such an important man. The baby would need a lot of things, and Jake could use the Spandlers' money to provide them. "Jake, could I see you for a minute in the kitchen?"
"Yes, see if you can talk some sense into him, dear," Mrs. Spandler said. She glanced around the living room. "It looks like you could use the commission."
"Daphene…" Theodore Spandler censured his wife with one even-toned word and a pinched expression that signaled his unhappiness with her.
Harley's fingers dug into the palm of her empty hand while the other tightened its grip on the basket. How dare this bitch condemn the wonderful home Jake had created? It might not measure up to her mansion or penthouse or whatever the hell she lived in, but Harley would've bet just about anything that Jake's home had more joy in it.
Clamping her teeth shut, she turned on her heel and stormed to the kitchen, not waiting to see if Jake followed or not. She curbed her initial impulse to hurl Daphene's basket of Christmas cheer—liver and fish eggs, some cheer—into the garbage can. Instead, she plunked it down on the countertop, shoving it behind the toaster.
After scrubbing the remaining grease from her hands, Harley flung open a bottom cabinet and rummaged in it, searching for a bottle of club soda. She slammed it down on the counter, then reached for a glass. Her fingers lingered near one of the cups Jake kept in the house for the girls—a cup with a sippy lid. Imagining the precious, elegant Daphene Spandler drinking from a sippy cup was just what Harley needed. She stifled a giggle and pulled a regular glass from the shelf.
Jake entered the kitchen to find Harley splashing soda water into an ice-filled glass. She turned to him, face immediately somber. "Jake, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to get the Spandlers' hands dirty, and—"
"Don't worry about it." Jake spoke softly. "I've always thought Daphene was kind of slimy. A little grease could only improve her as far as I'm concerned." That's the understatement of the year. He'd never warmed up to Daphene Spandler. Though she'd certainly made a play at warming him up—especially when her husband wasn't around. Fortunately, Jake had managed to avoid her most of the time in Virginia, and fortunately, her husband wasn't cut from the same cloth as she was. What did Theo see in her?
"Really?"
"Yup." Jake grabbed her hand, then kissed her fingers. "Real women aren't afraid of a little grease."
"Why don't you go with them, Jake? I can watch the twins for Mel. You know how important this account could be to your future."
Jake studied Harley carefully. "Our future." It was too good an opportunity to pass up—and he wasn't thinking just about the Spandler account. He was thinking about Harley alone with the twins, taking care of them by herself. Maybe she'd realize she could make a good mother, after all. "Are you sure about that? Those two can be quite a handful."
"Two sweet little girls, Jake. They're not babies like Matthew. They're even potty-trained. How hard can it be?"
Jake skimmed a finger across her cheek. "If you're sure?"
She smiled at him. "I am." She ducked away from him to open the refrigerator, pulling out a green plastic bottle of lemon ju
ice. "We don't have any fresh lemons," she whispered theatrically. "Don't tell Daphene, will you, darling?"
Jake laughed. "You're bad."
"I am not. I'm innocent. I was framed."
"There's something to be said for a little bit of bad in a woman." Jake grabbed her by the hand and wrapped his arms around her. He lowered his head, seizing possession of her lips with his own. Demanding and certain, the kiss left no room for doubt.
Her face flushed pink and her eyes were wide when he released her. "Wow. Bad is good. I'll have to give that one a nine."
He drew his fingers over her kiss-swollen lips. "If you let me, I'll try harder."
Harley swatted at him. "Go and get changed, Jake."
"I haven't changed my mind, Harley," he whispered in her ear. "I still want you to stay. I still want you, period." He licked the rim of her ear, delighting in her little shiver of response. "I love you, Harley."
She stepped away from him, face lined with tension.
Would she ever believe he wasn't just handing her "pretty words," as she called them? How would he ever convince her his love was true?
"Go change." She retrieved the glass of water from the counter. "Give this to Mrs. Spandler on your way through."
Jake accepted the beverage. "You keep them company while I get dressed, okay?"
"You've got to be joking! Look at me. I should be locked in the garage with the dogs. I need to change to be anywhere near the Spandlers."
"You don't need to change a thing."
Her stunned expression was priceless. But he didn't think she quite believed him.
* * *
Harley heaved a sigh and leaned against the door. She'd never been so happy in her life to see people leave. Jake was right; Daphene Spandler left a definite slimy feeling, like the trail behind a slug. Though in Daphene's case, perhaps that would be an escargot.
Harley stifled a slightly evil chuckle. Grace had managed to unwittingly pay back Mrs. Spandler with a well-timed sneeze after the woman had scooped her up, slanting Jake a look to make sure he was watching. Apparently Grace hadn't liked the woman's overpowering perfume, either. Theodore Spandler had been genuinely enthralled with Hope when she'd given him an endearing pat on the cheek. He'd fussed over her like a proud grandpa while Daphene had thrust Grace into Harley's arms and wiped her fur coat with a lace hanky.