The Pursuit of Jesse

by Helen Brenna

  Poised. That was the first word that came into his mind the moment he saw Sarah. Hot on its tail were three more. Curvy, confident and sexy in a very serious way. Okay, a few more than three. A blast of cold winter air hit him in the face, cooling his skin, but it wasn’t enough to cool the thoughts running through his head.

  No woman should look that good in a turtleneck, serviceable down jacket and, of all things, mukluks. With her long black hair falling in loose curls past her shoulders, her lips painted a dusky red and her dark eyebrows arched inquisitively, she was the best thing he’d seen in a damned long time. Except that she wasn’t his type. Not by a long shot.

  From the classy dress pants to the perfect makeup, Sarah had good girl written all over her. Sherri Phillips, on the other hand, while not perfect, was more his style. Hearty, gutsy laugh. Easy way. Sweet. Fun. Uncomplicated. What more could a man want?

  He took a deep breath and put on his game face. That’s when he noticed Sarah was carrying something bulky in her arms. “Afternoon, Sarah. Need some help with whatever you got there?”

  “Hello, and no, thank you.” Despite her half smile, she didn’t look very pleased.

  Most people probably figured her for the calm, serene sort, but the intensity of her pale blue eyes blew that image to hell and back as far as Jesse was concerned.

  She came up the porch steps and, virtually ignoring Jesse, zeroed in on her son. “Brian, have you been coming here every day after school?”

  The kid looked at Jesse, quickly calculated whether or not Jesse would back up a lie and just as quickly came to the conclusion he was on his own. Stubbornly, he straightened his shoulders. “Yeah. So?”

  “We talked about this.” She stomped her boots, dislodging the snow, and then stepped inside the house, carefully unrolling an indoor-outdoor-type carpet runner in the foyer area as she went. “You’re supposed to come home after school and get your homework done.”

  “I can do it after supper.”

  “You’re supposed to come home to check in with me, then do homework and then play, right?”

  Brian crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not a baby, Mom. I should be able to decide when I want to do my homework.”

  “That’s not our deal,” she said. “Go on home now.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. It’s almost time for dinner. We’ll talk about this later.”

  As Sarah talked with her son it was impossible to not study her. Manicured hands with deep red nail polish. Makeup so perfect he wondered if she used a magnifying glass in the application process. Not a hair out of place in those relaxed curls hanging past her shoulders. What struck him the most was the fact that she was doing her damnedest to send Jesse the message that she wasn’t interested in him as a man.

  “Can Zach eat over?” Brian asked.

  “Sure, but he needs to call home and make sure it’s all right with either Garrett or Erica.” She put her hands on Brian’s shoulders and pointed him toward the door. “Now go.”

  Poised and classy. She probably couldn’t pound in a nail to save her soul. Not your type. Those hands had probably never seen the likes of dirt let alone a dish, so why was it he wouldn’t have minded seeing her with a hammer in her hand? A tool belt hanging around that slim waist. And nothing else. Naked as the day she was born.

  Mmm, mmm, mmm. Wouldn’t that be a sight for sore eyes?

  “Bye, Jesse!”

  The sound of his name snapped his thoughts back to the present. “Huh? Oh. Bye, boys.”

  Zach and Brian both shrugged on their coats and ran out the door, calling in unison over their shoulders, “See you tomorrow.”

  “No, you won’t. Homework, remember?” She turned toward him. “I hope they haven’t been getting in your way.”

  “Naw.” He shook his head. “They’re nice kids.”

  “Yes, they are. Mirabelle’s a nice quiet island. A lot of good people here.”

  He didn’t miss the edge in her voice, but if there was one thing he’d learned in the past four years it was to not go looking for a fight. If he could avoid it, anyway.

  “I’ll make sure they don’t come up here anymore,” she said. “So they won’t get in your way.”

  Fine by him.

  She glanced from his shirt to his hair. “Looks like you’ve been busy today.”

  He brushed self-consciously at the layer of dirt and dust covering his long-sleeved black T-shirt. “Yeah, well, best to have everything out of here before all the supplies you and Garrett ordered are delivered. So I’ve basically been gutting the place.”

  “Good idea.” She slipped off her boots, walked into the kitchen and turned off the radio.

  “Sorry,” he said. “It’s been pretty quiet around here. I found that in the basement. Hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not a problem.” Slowly, she walked through the house, glancing around, seeming to take note of his progress.

  He struggled for something to say. Put him in a bar with someone like Sherri and he could talk up a blue streak, but this woman made him uneasy. He might be drawn to her, but he was uneasy all the same.

  “So…Garrett said you needed to be all moved in here by the end of May. Before your busy season starts,” he said, hoping to start the ball rolling. “Wedding planner, huh?”

  She nodded. “I do a fair amount of business through my flower shop, as well.”

  While it was crystal-clear she wasn’t interested in casual conversation, she wasn’t as immune to him as a man as she wanted him to think. Her gaze would drop to his lips or linger on his arms and chest. He ran his hand along the back of his neck, feeling more edgy with every passing moment. Best to follow her lead and stick to business.

  “Things don’t seem to be moving very quickly,” she said. “I was hoping the carpet would be in by now.”

  If he’d had feathers, they’d have been ruffled, especially after the week he’d had. Starting work on Sarah’s house well before sunrise and working until past dinnertime, he’d put in close to sixty hours. But then that had been entirely his choice.

  After the first morning of waking up in Garrett’s house to the sounds of everyone else up and about, he’d sworn he’d never do that again. Just listening to the warm coziness of the Taylor family routine through his closed bedroom door—the smell of fresh coffee, the sounds of happy, rested kids, cereal bowls clinking and cartoons on TV—had been enough to make his skin crawl.

  From then on he’d gotten up and headed off to work before anyone else had even stirred. To make sure he’d avoid Garrett’s family as much as possible, he’d been bringing a bag lunch and eating by himself at Sarah’s house. Then it was off to one of the bars downtown for a bite to eat for supper. By the time he’d been getting home, the Taylor house had settled in for the night and he’d been able to sneak back to the guest bedroom without disturbing Garrett, Erica or their kids.

  Even with all those hours, Sarah’s house was a big job for one man. “Well, for one thing,” he said, trying not to sound defensive, “new carpet will likely be the last thing you’ll want to do in the house. Wouldn’t want it getting dirty, would you?”

  “Good point.”

  “The first thing that had to be done was to fix your leaky roof, remember?”

  “Oh, right.”

  “It was quite a job.” Icy wind whipping up his back, hands freezing even in the thick leather gloves Garrett had lent him, Jesse had been on a ladder shoveling snow off a large chunk of the roof that’d apparently been damaged by high winds last fall. The entire roof would need to be replaced come spring, but for the time being he’d had to patch things up to protect the interior.

  There was no point in elaborating with the fact that he’d twice nearly slipped off the icy rungs of the ladder, not to mention the roof itself. Or that he’d capped her chimney and patched up a hole in one of her basement windows, ensuring there’d be no more critters nesting in her house. She would’ve had to be here to appreciate the fact that the t
ime he’d spent outside had been miserable. “That alone took me an entire day.”

  “I suppose.”

  After that, he’d cleaned out all the junk the previous owner had left in the basement, taking advantage of the Dumpster while it was available. Then he’d taken out the old toilet, sink and countertop in the main bathroom. Today, he’d pulled up all the ratty carpet.

  “So what’s next on your agenda?”

  “Strip all the linoleum from the floors in the bathrooms and kitchen. By tomorrow the house should be ready for new subflooring.”

  “New sub—” She stopped. “Can’t you save time and money by putting new flooring over the old?”

  “Sure. I could do that.” He bit back the smart-ass comment on the tip of his tongue. Was this the way it was going to be for the duration of this job? Him having to justify his every move? “But then you’ll be stuck with every single creak and groan the old place has developed through the years.” To prove his point, he crossed the master bedroom floor, setting off a round of squeaks that would’ve made anyone cringe.

  “And this new…subfloor will get rid of all that?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “But I don’t remember that being on Garrett’s plan.”

  Could he really blame her for trusting Garrett more than him? “Well, it should’ve been. I’m guessing Garrett would’ve realized you needed new subfloors as soon as he got going on things in here.”

  “That may very well be.” She turned away, put her head down and crossed her arms. When she spun back around her blue eyes had turned stormy. “But from now on I’d appreciate it if you’d stick to the way Garrett had things laid out, okay? If you think you need to deviate from his plan, please run it by me first.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Uneasiness turned to outright wariness. Apparently, this fight was coming whether he wanted it or not. Might as well get it over with sooner rather than later, so they could move on to more important things, like this attraction he could feel burning up the air between them. “But then this doesn’t have anything to do with my construction abilities, does it, Sarah? You got something to say to me, why don’t you get it off your chest?”

  “Another good idea.” She held his gaze. “Garrett said you just got out of prison.”

  “That’s right.” Straightening his shoulders, he prepared himself for the question he knew would follow.

  “I want to know why you were there,” she said. “I want to know what you did to deserve prison time.”

  He turned away and ran a hand over his face. He’d hoped he’d have more time to settle in here on Mirabelle before being confronted. Suddenly, his palms turned sweaty. His heart raced. He opened his mouth to explain and the words simply were not there. How could he explain that he’d made the worst decision of his life? One minute life was dandy. Then in the blink of an eye he’d almost killed another human being.

  It wasn’t happening. Not today. Not with Miss High and Mighty. “Sorry, boss.” Grinning, he turned toward her. “I’m not in the sharing mood today.”

  “That’s not good enough.”

  “Well, that’s all I got. For the moment. See, I’m not feeling a connection yet between you and me. You know? As a matter of fact, I’m feeling kind of vulnerable.” He took a step toward her. “You want me to bare my soul, maybe you should go first. Like…I don’t know…you want to tell me about Brian’s dad?”

  “Brian’s dad is none of your business.”

  “See? There you go. Looks like neither one of us is in a sharing mood.”

  “So that’s the way it’s going to be.” She frowned. “Then let’s get something straight between us right off the bat.”

  Jesse’s spine stiffened, but he managed to plaster a grin on his face. Here it comes.

  “I don’t have the slightest interest in getting to know you.” She cocked her head at him. “I’ve hired you as a favor to Garrett. That’s all there is to it. Get my house done and move on.”

  “Whatever you say, boss.” He mock saluted her.

  “For that matter. Don’t move on. Move off the island. For good.”

  Now he was pissed. “Trust me. The minute your house is finished, I’ll be gone. I have no intention of staying on this boring, frozen hunk of rock any longer than necessary.”

  “Good.” She stalked outside, shutting the front door loudly behind her.

  That’s when the worst of it hit him. This was only the beginning. She was no doubt going to be on his case until this job was done. So why was it he still wanted Sarah, not Sherri or any other woman like her, in bed, under him, and calling out his name?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “GOLD CALLA LILIES,” Sarah said. Her flower-shop phone on speaker, she talked to Megan, one of the more psychotic bride-to-be clients with whom she’d ever had the pleasure of working. This wedding would be the first of the season, and Sarah couldn’t wait until this one was over. “They’ll look amazing.”

  “But I want white daisies,” Megan said decisively.

  Normally, what the bride wanted, the bride got. Unless what she wanted might end up reflecting badly on Sarah. In this business, reputation was key, and she did her best to make sure every wedding was perfect.

  “I know you want daisies, Megan, but remember your dress is classic in design. You wanted a very formal wedding.” As she talked, Sarah prepped a mixed vase of stargazer lilies, irises and Bells of Ireland—one of her favorites—for the Mirabelle Island Inn.

  Although winter was the slow season on Mirabelle, the island enjoyed a steady stream of snowmobilers, cross-country skiers and snowshoers given the miles of scenic, groomed trails that crisscrossed the many acres of state park land covering more than half of the island. That meant Sarah’s shop did a small floral business over the winter providing the hotels, bed-and-breakfasts and a few other businesses on the island with freshly cut arrangements. Most of her time over the winter, though, was spent planning weddings for the upcoming summer season.

  Sarah adjusted an iris stem. “White daisies may detract from the dramatic, stylish impact you’ve said you wanted.” Insisted was more like it. Over and over again. “Instead, I’d add a few sprigs of amaryllis,” she went on. “A shock of green.”

  “That sounds terrible.” Megan’s voice was turning pitchy, a sure sign she was close to drawing a line in the sand.

  “Remember the two-toned Leonidas roses? You fell in love with them at first sight. I’m not sure they’ll go well with daisies.”

  “Then maybe the roses weren’t the best choice.”

  Oh, no. If Sarah had anything to say about it, the woman was not changing her mind on the focal flower in her cluster bouquet for the fifth time.

  “I still think the roses were the right decision,” Sarah said, easily keeping her voice steady and calm. “They match your color scheme and the style of your wedding, but before you decide, let me email you some pictures. I think you’ll absolutely love what you see.” She removed the pollen stamens from the open lilies with a tissue, ensuring the pollen wouldn’t drop and stain anything and everything in its path.

  She’d been working on the flowers much longer than she should have, but that was par for the course. Weddings and Flowers by Sarah hadn’t gotten one of the best reputations in the Upper Midwest for no good reason. Nothing—fresh or silk arrangements, potted plants or the like—left her hands until everything was just right.

  The flower shop’s front door opened, letting in a burst of cold air, and Sarah glanced up. Her best friend, Missy Charms Abel, who owned the gift shop next door, had, thankfully, stopped by to break up the monotony of her day. Smiling, Sarah put her index finger to her lips and then pointed to the phone.

  “Lunch?” Missy silently mouthed as she held out two takeout bags.

  “Yes!” Sarah mouthed back, nodding vigorously, and then spoke into the speakerphone. “So I’ll send you the photos of the design I have in mind?”

  “I insist on something unique, Sarah.” Megan’s voice
echoed over the speakerphone and through the small flower shop like nails down a chalkboard. “Absolutely unique.”

  Missy rolled her eyes as she slipped off her boots and walked sock-footed across the tiled floor.

  “I promise I’ve never done this arrangement before,” Sarah said to Megan as she smiled at Missy. “I’ll email you those pictures as soon as we get off the phone. Let me know what you decide. No rush. Take your time.” Sarah disconnected the call before Megan could find something else to obsess over and glanced up at Missy.

  Her friend shook her head. “She sounds like a winner.”

  “Guess how old she is?”

  “To be that particular? Forty.”

  “Eighteen.”

  “You’re kidding. What’s her story?”

  “High-school sweethearts. He’s in the military. She’s just graduating from high school this spring. Around New Year’s, they found out Brandon was scheduled to ship off to Afghanistan on July first. That’s when they got engaged.”

  “So why wait? Why not just run out and get married?”

  “She insisted on a Mirabelle wedding. In spring. Period. She wants the perfect wedding,” Sarah added. “And Daddy’s made it clear that the sky’s the limit for his only child.”

  “I don’t know how you deal with all those crazy brides.”

  “Very carefully.” Sarah laughed, prepping an email to Megan. “Honestly, though, I don’t mind.” Her years of experience with stressed-out brides-to-be and their stressed-out mothers had taught her to take their wacked-out moods in stride.

  “Better you than me.” Missy set the bags on the counter.

  Sarah attached a photo of the arrangement she had in mind for Megan and sent the email. “There you go, Megan,” she said, breathing a sigh of relief.

  Only a second later, her computer pinged with received mail.

  “Is that her replying back that quickly?” Missy asked, looking surprised.

  “Yep. She thinks she likes this one. But she wants to make sure the bridesmaids’ bouquets are in sync with hers.”