by Alison Kent
Even cutting short a day of Saturday meetings, Jace had only managed to make it to the last hour of the going away barbecue he, Robert and Marv had hosted for the couple. Kevin said he understood, but his understanding didn’t make it right. Jace hadn’t even pulled himself away from work long enough to sing by and wish his friend a bon voyage the day the moving van had loaded up and Kev and Terri had packed themselves into their two SUVs.
The worst part was, Jace hadn’t seen him since. Slowing his truck as the speed limit changed, he wondered how Kevin, Terri, and the kid were doing now. Jace doubted he’d have survived waiting out Terri’s labor—though a true friend would’ve been there for Kev and at least made the effort. Jace hadn’t. The baby had to be at least three by now. And Jace was still a dick, hiding out in the middle of nowhere instead of fixing things.
With the sun warming the back of his neck, he pulled to a stop in front of The Fig Leaf. A funny knot coiled in the pit of his stomach. He rubbed the lump with the heel of his hand, wondering why, after all these years, his past had intruded on the present, reminding him painfully that he had a lot to make up for.
Not to mention a woman he needed to keep at a distance, keep from becoming friendly with since he had such a crummy track record of being there for friends.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he muttered under his breath, climbing from the cab to jerk his toolbox from the bed of the truck. “Who says she wants to be friends with you anyway?”
His work boots clomped against the plank sidewalk fronting the stores. The sign in Eden’s window said CLOSED, but he tried the door anyway and found it open.
He set his toolbox inside. “Eden?”
“Back here.”
Her muffled voice reached his ears at the same time the smells hit his nose. Nostrils flared, he inhaled the spicy combination of garlic, onion, tomato, and green pepper. An apology of sorts formed on his tongue as he made his way through the connecting rooms of the house.
Molly hadn’t told him that Eden was pregnant. She’d told him Eden was a single woman living alone, then gone on to ask his help as a personal favor. He was a sap for Molly Hansen. How could he say no?
Besides, he’d never turned down the chance to play Prince Charming for a damsel in distress.
This damsel just happened to be a hell of a gorgeous woman. Green eyes that saw everything but pretended not to. Lips as cool and sleek as polished cherry. A nose that might’ve had a superior tilt if not for that barely noticeable crook to the left.
But gorgeous or not, unless he was way off the mark here, she belonged to someone else. At least she had belonged. Very recently, in fact. Which brought up a lot of questions Jace wasn’t sure he wanted to ask. Or to have answered.
He stopped at the kitchen door, all his preconceived notions about pregnant women shot to the moon. Not that he’d ever put a name to what those notions were. But he knew he’d never used the word pregnant in the same sentence as sexy.
His gut clenched. Hard.
Eden stood on a chair, her backside at eye level. Rifling through a cabinet, she picked up one jar, set it down, picked up another. Hair the color of burnished mahogany bounced on her shoulders as she moved.
His gaze swept lower, taking in the fullness of one breast, the bare swell of her belly, the seat of her outfit draped intimately across her bottom. All the while her hips swayed and she hummed along with the docked iPod blaring from the top of the fridge.
“Hi.” She turned, caught him staring, bit off the word. Indignation sparked in her eyes.
He met her gaze, knowing he deserved the wrath of a woman scorned. And then he realized she was standing on a chair. He might not know a lot about pregnant women, but he was sure she had no business standing on a chair.
“Uh, should you be up there like that?”
“You know,” she began, paying no attention to his question. “This is my only complaint about the whole house.” She propped one fist on her hip and gestured with the spice jar still in her hand. “Two cabinets that stretch to the ceiling. Why not have four cabinets half the size?”
Amazing. He’d been fighting to form the apology of his life and she was running off at the mouth about cabinets. “The previous owner never could decide what to do in here.”
“Well, when you’re through with the shop, maybe we can talk about this mess.”
Chapter Four
“THEN I’M NOT FIRED?”
Tossing him the spice jar, Eden eased down to sit on the edge of the counter, leaving her feet in the chair. A frown drew her brows together. “Why would I fire you? Wait. I know. You lied to me on your resume.”
Jace set the jar on the table and fought back a grin. “No. But I wasn’t exactly Prince Charming this afternoon.”
Gripping the edges of the counter at her sides, Eden cocked her head to the side. “Ah, but I am learning that frogs have a variety of uses.”
“Ribbit,” Jace croaked, and Eden laughed. Crossing the room, he stopped and braced his palms on the back of her chair. Less than a foot of free space separated them. And that was much too close. “Do you need help getting down?”
Delicious humor sparkled in eyes greener than a stalk of spring grass. “Sure. Why not?”
Great. Now what was he supposed to do?
“Jace?”
“Hmm... oh, here.” Shoving the chair to the side, he cupped her near elbow with his hand and stretched out his other arm as a lever. She scooted her seat toward the edge of the counter. Each move pressed her belly against his wrist. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple. “Wait, let me—”
“No. This is fine.” Using his shoulder for support, she maneuvered off the edge on her own, stepped back and looked him up one side and down the other. “This is your first pregnancy, isn’t it?”
“Why do you say that?”
“You act like I’ll give birth here on the kitchen floor if you touch me, and I don’t plan on going into labor for about five more months. Trust me. I’m tougher than I look.”
“I hope so,” he murmured beneath his breath.
“Men.” She gave a dismissive sniff and crossed the blue-and-white-tiled floor to the stove. Picking up a wooden spoon and the spice jar, she sprinkled whatever it was into the cast-iron pot, then stirred the bubbling contents. The pungent aroma of Creole cooking drifted across the room. Jace’s stomach growled.
Eden chuckled, peered into the pot and pronounced the mixture, “Perfect. Have you eaten?”
Leaning against the pie safe next to the stove, he stuffed his fingers into the front pockets of his jeans. “Not since this morning.”
Pulling down bowls from cabinet number two, she said, “Well, you’re welcome to join me. We’re having shrimp Creole. And rolls Molly brought by this afternoon.”
“Mmm. Molly’s rolls. I’ll take a dozen,” he answered, realizing Eden’s company appealed to him as much as the food.
Grinning, Eden turned away to set bowls, spoons, saucers, and hot mats on the table. She grabbed a pot of rice, placed it on the table, then reached for the kettle of Creole.
He beat her to it. “I’ll get it.”
“Thanks,” she said and slowly eased her body into a chair. “There’s a pitcher of milk in the fridge.”
“Milk?” Smiling, Jace reached behind him and opened the refrigerator.
“For us motherly types,” Eden teased. “I think there’s a bottle of wine in the back. Or there might be a beer. Tucker leaves one here occasionally.”
He found the beer behind fresh fruits and vegetables and enough yogurt to stock a small grocery. He set the pitcher of milk on the table, then screwed the cap from the beer bottle and raised it to his lips.
“Oh. The rolls.” Eden moved to scoot back.
Jace grabbed the seat of her chair. His hand brushed her leg, her long, well-shaped leg. He left it there, feeling soft female skin covered by thin cotton. He wanted to feel more. He was feeling too much already. “I’ll get them.”
Eden only nodded
and handed him a pot holder.
The heat from the oven blasted his face and took his mind off another warmth he had no business feeling. This was a business dinner, nothing more. Brushing her leg had been an accident. No different than shaking her hand this afternoon. Or the way his arm grazed her stomach minutes ago.
Innocent touches, he told himself. Simple. Unplanned. That was all, he argued, then he argued more. Unplanned, sure, that he could buy.
But there was nothing simple about the very complicated knot into which his feelings were tied. Especially since there was still a big piece missing from this picture.
What had happened to the man in her life? Not that he cared. He didn’t. Nope. Not a bit. Because this job would be a whole lot simpler if caring stayed out of the way.
Eden ladled out two huge bowls of shrimp Creole over rice and Jace turned his concentration to the simple pleasure of a home-cooked dinner. Eden seemed hungry as well. Not a word passed between them, the only sound that of flatware on crockery, the ticking clock, a slowly dripping faucet. As Jace buttered his third roll, he glanced up to find a smile on Eden’s lips.
“What?” He mouthed the word around the warm, yeasty bread.
“You look like you might make that dozen after all.”
He nodded toward her empty bowl. “You didn’t do too badly either.”
Patting her firm stomach, Eden shoved away from the table. “I have a good excuse. I’m eating for more than one.”
With the top she was wearing it was hard to tell. Jace dusted the bread crumbs over his saucer. “This was great. Do you cook like this all the time?”
She lifted one shoulder. “I cook all the time if that’s what you mean.”
“What I mean is that it’s a lot of work to go to for just one person.”
“True. But I’m worth it. And... I love it,” she said, seeming surprised. “Besides, I don’t do such a bad job, if I do say so myself.”
He nodded toward the empty bowls on the table. “You do a damn fine job.”
“Thanks.” She frowned and pressed her fist to her sternum. “Though Creole might not have been the best choice.”
“Why’s that?”
“It’s giving me heartburn already.” She grimaced. “It’s a good thing I’m not nursing yet. I can’t imagine what the spices would’ve done to my milk.”
Jace wasn’t touching that one. Uh-uh. No way. He twirled his empty longneck on the table.
Eden glanced up. Her eyes widened with an awareness of what she’d just said. And to whom she’d said it. “Oops. I guess that just took away the rest of your appetite.”
God, she really had great eyes, Jace thought, watching the twinkle of green brighten as she smiled. He patted his stomach as if checking his appetite. “Yep. It’s history. But you can blame that on the food,” he added when her smile threatened to fade, “not the conversation.”
Her hair glittered under the light when she cocked her head to one side. “Flattery will get you everywhere, you know.”
Business, Morgan. Keep it business. He glanced around the room. “I’m hoping it will get me a shot at this kitchen.”
“Between the flattery and your resume, I’d say the job’s yours.” Eden pushed her saucer away and settled back with a keen eye. “But it’s not the priority the shop is.”
“I know. And I couldn’t get to it for a while anyway. You know The Glen? The Bed-and-Breakfast out on 37?”
“Belongs to the Browns, right?” Her expression changed the minute the light dawned. “You’re doing the renovations?”
Jace nodded. “That’s my priority right now.”
Eden frowned. “You think you’ll have time to do the shelves on the side?”
“Not a problem. I’m waiting on a back order.” He shrugged. “The nature of the business.”
“Funny. I was just weighing the supposed perks of self-employment earlier myself.”
“I’ll wait on a dozen back orders before I’ll ever wait in Stemmons Freeway traffic again. The pace of life in Arbor Glen beats the pants off the dance I did the years I lived in Dallas.”
“I thought Molly said you were local.”
“Three years local, but not born and bred.”
“Then you’re from Dallas?”
“Been there most of my life. But for a four-year stint in College Station. Texas A & M.”
“And here I thought you were just a good ol’ country boy.”
“That’s exactly what I am. Now, anyway. Had to work the rat race outta my system first. Those corporate ladders are hell on a country boy’s vertigo.”
“I had a place in New York until three months ago.” She released a heavy sigh. Her belly lifted with the effort. “I don’t miss everything about the city, but I can’t say I’ll never go back.”
“Oh, I can say that in at least ten languages. You couldn’t pay me enough to get me back into a shirt and tie.”
Scraping back her chair, Eden stood to stack his bowl and spoon in hers. “You don’t believe clothes make the man?”
“Make him insane, maybe.” Jace glanced around the kitchen. She was right. The cabinets really needed to go. “I kinda like sitting at my drafting table in my boxers.”
Eden cleared her throat, which brought Jace’s head back around. What had he just said? Oh, yeah. He grinned. “Appetites don’t stand a chance around here, do they?”
She rolled her eyes while gathering the saucers and remaining flatware. She carried the dishes to the sink, then turned back to face him. “You want to take a look at the shop now?”
“Sure.” Back to business. That’s what he needed. Sitting in her kitchen eating her food talking about his boxers and her milk... He blew out a long breath and followed her to the front of the store. “What did you have in mind?”
She walked between the hanging racks, fingering one garment after another. “You must know the Spring Fest is in three weeks.”
“Yeah. Molly volunteered me for the committee running the electric for the dance.”
“That sounds like the Molly I know.”
“She does have a knack for getting her way.”
“You’ve noticed?”
He stopped, held out both hands. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
Her laugh tickled his ears. “My biggest problem lies in lack of space, both display and storage. What I’d like to do is build shelving along this back wall, then hang sample items on a rack.”
“How tall do you need the rack?” Jace asked, thinking of the merchandise in his barn.
“At least eye level. That will give customers a clear view of what they want, plus keep the full-length items from dragging the ground.”
Jace took measurements where necessary and jotted down notes and figures. He listened to Eden with only one ear, running a mental inventory of the supplies he’d need. Finally, he looked up from the tablet to find her steady gaze regarding him with mild amusement.
“How long have I been gone?” he asked.
“Five minutes or so.”
The light fixture behind her lit the fire in her hair. The one directly above flickered over the freckles dusting her creamy complexion. He smelled peaches. No, apricots. He took a step away.
“I tend to do that. Get wrapped up in my work, that is.” His voice sounded strained. As excuses went this one was lousy but better than giving his imagination license to envision copper-colored specks on sun-kissed skin.
“I need someone who’ll do a good job. Getting wrapped up in your work makes me think you’re the someone I’m looking for.” Eden pushed her fists against her arched back. “Why don’t you go ahead and do what you need to do in here to finish the estimate? I need to get back and clean up the kitchen.”
“Sure. It won’t take me long.” He stuck his pencil behind his ear and watched Eden walk away. At least he watched her until she turned around and caught him at it.
Then he got busy and measured the wall. Twice. The first time he had the tape upside down because Eden�
��s departing laugh rocked through him like nothing had in a very long time.
He’d never thought of a pregnant woman as sexy before. Hell, he’d never thought much about pregnancy at all. He’d been too busy jumping from the final rung of one ladder to the first of the next, making his climb to the top of the top of the top. He hadn’t even stopped to think about his own mortality.
He hadn’t thought about much beyond leaving his professional mark on the world. He hadn’t thought about having a child at all. He jotted down some figures and rewound his tape. Maybe that was why he’d avoided Kevin and Terri and the baby. Kevin had accomplished what Jace hadn’t. And with all the worldly possessions Jace amassed, Kevin still had more.
Jace grinned to himself. He really needed to go see the bum. He needed to find Robert and Marv, see how those two were doing. He needed to do a lot of things, make a lot of amends— “Sh... oot. What’re you doing here?”
Chloe Angelino stared at him from the other side of the room. His glance took in the closed door and her pleasure in his surprise at the same time.
“I came for dinner.”
Hmm. That wasn’t exactly what he’d meant. “I mean, how’d you get in?”
“Eden hates that chime. I make sure she doesn’t have to hear it.”
“Handy talent. You do a lot of breaking and entering?” She was obviously expected, so that wasn’t what had happened here, but he’d heard more than one rumor about this girl being one sandwich short of a picnic.
“I did not break and enter.”
“I know. That was a joke.” When she didn’t say anything else, he sighed. “Eden’s in the kitchen.”
She stayed where she was and studied the tools in his box. “Are you working for her?” “Yeah.”
She slanted him a wary glance. “A special project?”
“She needs some carpentry work done.”
She only nodded, then began a wide circle of the room. “What carpentry work does she want you to do?”
Jace tossed the tape measure in his toolbox and propped his hands at his hips. “Shelves. On these walls.”