by Tara Sheets
She sat up and scrubbed her face with her hands, then walked to the bathroom to splash cold water on her face. The old shower fixtures were gone, replaced with shiny new hardware. There was even a fancy rain can showerhead and a stack of extra towels.
An uncomfortable, sinking feeling settled over her. It was all too much. She couldn’t accept it.
Kat flung open her door and set out in search of the vandal.
She knocked firmly on the front door of the farmhouse. Even though she could easily go in the back door to the kitchen, she wanted to make a point that she was not part of their lives. She was a tenant. Completely self-sufficient.
Opal answered the door in a robin’s-egg blue sweater. Was she wearing blue eye shadow? Kat hadn’t noticed her wearing makeup before. “Hi, Opal. Is Jordan here?”
“He’s out in the field, I believe. He wanted to speak with two of the workers he hired to help with harvesting.” Her face lit up. “How did you like your surprise?”
“You mean the furniture?” That’s not mine. That I didn’t pay for.
“Yes. Jordan was working on your apartment for most of the day.” She looked so pleased, Kat hated to disappoint her.
“It’s very nice,” she said carefully. “But I can’t accept it, Opal. It’s too much.”
“Nonsense! The rental should have been furnished. I can’t get up those stairs, but Jordan told me it was empty, and that was unacceptable. He was on a mission today.” She laughed. “You should’ve seen him hauling stuff around. No stopping him when he gets like that.”
“I see,” Kat said, even though she didn’t. Why would he do something like that? If he thought that buttering her up would earn him more escapades in broom closets, then he was in for a big letdown. “He’s in the field, did you say?”
“I believe so. But come inside and have a cup of tea.” Opal stood back to let her in. “Clementine and the kittens would love to see you.”
“I will,” Kat promised, backing away. “I just need to go talk to him first.”
She was down the steps and across the yard before Opal had a chance to protest. Most of the lavender plants were already cropped, but some of the later-blooming varieties still needed harvesting. There was one more farmer’s market the following Friday, so the workers were probably gathering the last of it.
Kat searched the field for signs of Jordan. Two men were rolling a cart piled with freshly cut lavender to the barn. Kat greeted them with a wave. “Is Jordan out here?”
One of the men pointed behind them, down the hill.
She thanked them and made her way past the field and down a small hill, where large willow trees grew beside a babbling brook. It was quiet and secluded, with a shady bank of grass near the water’s edge. The breeze ruffled the leaves of the willow trees, and the air smelled fresh and sweet from green things growing. A secret oasis. Even in her state of turmoil, it was hard not to appreciate the beauty of the place.
Jordan was stretched out under a tree, hands behind his head, eyes closed. He looked so peaceful, she almost felt bad disturbing him. Almost.
Kat cleared her throat and marched toward him, stopping just a few feet away. “I just saw what you did to my apartment.”
When he didn’t answer, she noted the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. How could he sleep out in the open so easily? Must be nice to feel that safe and secure in your surroundings. There was a sort of careless freedom in that she’d never had. But of course, he’d grown up here with his parents, surrounded by all this natural beauty. Yet another thing she’d never had. Kat jammed her hands on her hips. “Hello?”
* * *
Jordan cracked open one eye. Kat stood on the bank by the stream, her long dress billowing in the breeze. Her fiery red hair was a riot of waves around a heart-shaped face that was so delicately lovely, it was completely at odds with her stormy expression.
Some survival instinct kicked in and he sat up slowly, brushing aside the cobwebs of sleep. When he focused more clearly on her, a bright memory flashed in his mind. La Belle Dame sans Merci. She reminded him of the Beautiful Woman Without Mercy. It was a painting in one of his college literature books—a woman on a horse, leaning over a knight who stood transfixed with awe. There’d been some poem with it, but hell if he could remember the details. Something about the enchanted woman leading the poor knight astray, then later abandoning him on a hillside to die.
Kat tossed her hair over her shoulder and cocked a hip, her green eyes flashing fire.
God, she was beautiful. One crook of her finger and he’d follow her anywhere. What man wouldn’t?
She placed her hands on her hips and fixed him with a heated glare. Even in fight mode, she was alluring.
Yup. He’d be dying on a hillside in no time flat.
“My apartment,” she said carefully, as if that was all that needed saying.
Right. All that work he’d spent helping her out with the furniture. He smiled sleepily. Clearly, she was unhappy about something, but he couldn’t stop himself from teasing. “Did you come to give me another thank-you kiss? Because I’m on board with that.”
Kat’s gasp of outrage clued him in that there’d be no thank-you kisses anytime soon. Damn.
Jordan rubbed a hand over his face, then mussed his hair. How long had he slept? The sun was setting low on the horizon. Soon it would be twilight. He loved that time of day. When he was younger, he used to sit outside and watch the shadows soften everything. The sky would grow darker until eventually, his house looked like any other normal house. No peeling paint or neglected yard. Just a regular home where a regular family might have lived.
“Sorry to wake you from your nap.” Kat’s voice snapped him back to the moment. “No doubt your exertions in my apartment wore you out earlier.”
He glanced up at her, trying to gauge her emotions. High color on her cheeks. Mouth pressed tightly together. What now? “Is your shower broken again?”
“No,” she said impatiently. “The shower’s fine.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
Kat threw her hands up. “There’s a bunch of furniture in my apartment that doesn’t belong to me. That’s what’s wrong.”
“I know,” he said through a yawn. “I put it there.”
“But I didn’t ask for it. None of it’s mine.”
“You needed it,” he said simply. “I saw your apartment yesterday.”
“No, you assumed I needed it, and you didn’t bother to find out. You don’t know enough about me to assume things.” She began to pace. “Maybe I’ve already ordered furniture. Maybe I have a whole set of Chippendale antiques on the way from California as we speak. The point is, you put that stuff there without asking me. And that’s my private apartment. That’s my personal space.”
“Wait.” The truth finally dawned on him. “You’re mad at me for furnishing the rental space?”
“Yes, because you didn’t even ask me if I wanted it.”
He frowned. “Look, when I went in to repair the shower this morning, it just seemed like a good idea. It’s not that big a deal. There are three empty rooms upstairs in the farmhouse, filled with mismatched furniture no one’s using. So I brought some up.”
She came to stand above him, eyes glittering with some emotion he couldn’t catch. “Why would you do something like that?”
“What do you mean, why? I thought it would make you more comfortable.”
“Like lining Clementine’s box with your sweatshirt, right?” Her voice was tinged with bitterness. “Like I’m an orphan who needs a handout.”
Ah. So that was the way of it. Jordan leaned his head back and studied her carefully. He needed to be very careful how he responded. “No. That’s not at all why I did it. Clearly, you don’t need anyone’s help.”
The tightness in Kat’s expression eased. She straightened her spine. “I don’t.”
“I know,” he said, meaning it. From the moment they’d first met at the farmer’s market, he’d known she was st
rong and independent. A survivor like him.
“Why, then?” she asked in frustration. “Why would you go through all that trouble? I can’t pay you back.”
He shook his head. “I don’t want your money.”
Kat’s expression hardened. “I’m not paying you back in any way. So if you think for one second that I’ll—”
“Hold on,” he interrupted. “Are you suggesting that I gave you that stuff so . . . you’d sleep with me?” Surely, she couldn’t possibly think that. The idea of it was too ridiculous to even contemplate. And yet, as he watched the emotions flicker across her face, it seemed she did.
She looked away and muttered, “Maybe.”
Jordan’s eyebrows shot up, and he started to laugh. Deep, curling laughter that rose up from his chest and made his shoulders shake. “Well?”
She glared at him. “Well, what?”
“How’m I doing so far? Is it working? Because usually my thrift store reject furniture really gets the ladies excited.”
She wasn’t amused.
His humor died away, and he studied her closer. Mouth tight, arms crossed, hugging herself. Well, hell. She really was bothered by what he’d done. What kind of a world did she come from? He’d heard the Hollywood crowd harbored a lot of shallow individuals, but for her to jump to the conclusion that he’d expect payment—of any kind—was just wrong.
“Look, Kat,” he said softly. “It’s just some old stuff that was gathering dust. I’m glad it’s finally getting some use.”
“Even so, it just makes me feel . . . indebted. I don’t like it. I don’t need anyone’s help. People don’t just give stuff unless they expect something in return. That’s how it’s always been. That’s how the world works.”
“Not always,” Jordan said. “Sometimes people give stuff to others because they just want to help. You do it all the time. I see you do it when you care for the animals. Do you expect anything from them?”
She swallowed visibly. “No, but this is different.”
“Why?”
“Because . . . Because I like them, and I care about what happens to them.”
“And is it so hard to believe that I might like you and care about you, too?”
Her swift inhale wasn’t lost on him. He’d surprised her. “It’s different,” she blurted. “I don’t want to owe you anything, don’t you get that? It just complicates things between us.”
“Kat.” Jordan took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. “Things are complicated between us already. We both know it. And none of these feelings have anything to do with dusty old furniture.”
Her eyes grew glossy, and she glanced away quickly, wringing her hands.
“Hey.” Jordan’s chest clenched. He hated seeing her upset. He started to stand.
She surprised him by dropping onto the grass, hugging her knees up to her chest, and staring at the stream.
“Hey,” he repeated softly, moving to sit close enough that their shoulders were almost touching. “If you don’t want the furniture, it’s okay. My grandmother always meant for that to be a furnished rental. It’s my fault for not paying closer attention and making sure it was furnished before you moved in. Can you just use the stuff until you find things you like better? Or when your shipment of Chippendale furniture comes in from California?”
She threw him a look that said they both knew there was no shipment.
“I mean, you’re going to have to weigh the pros and cons,” he continued. “And I don’t envy you that hard decision. Are you going to want fancy meticulously crafted antique furniture, or Goodwill rejects from a broken-down old farmhouse? Tough choice, I know.”
A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
Jordan felt the tightness in his chest ease, like heavy bands of rope loosening with each breath. He nudged her with his shoulder. “Just help me out and keep the stuff, for now, all right? If you don’t, I’ll never hear the end of it from my grandmother.”
“All right.” The strain slowly eased from her face. “Fine.”
Relief washed over him. He felt as if he’d been hanging from a branch and just managed to hook his leg over it so he could regain balance. The strength of his reaction surprised him, but he didn’t try to analyze it. He just wanted her to be happy. He liked it when she was happy.
“I’ll keep it until I get my own stuff,” she said. “But promise me something.”
He’d promise her anything if she’d keep smiling like that. “What?”
She shoved him with both hands until they toppled onto the grass in a tangle of legs and arms. Kat pressed her hands into his chest and stared at him with those mesmerizing eyes. La Belle Dame sans Merci, indeed. “Never go into my apartment again without my permission, or I’ll . . .” She paused as if searching for a dire consequence.
Abandon me on a hillside and leave me to die? Jordan smiled softly at her, trying to ignore the delicious curve of her hips pressed against him. “Or you’ll what?”
“I’ll . . .” She gasped in delight. “I’ll round up every pregnant cat I can find and release them into your bedroom.”
“Easy there, wildcat.” He chuckled softly. “I don’t plan on going into your apartment again.”
She seemed to accept that answer because she started to pull away, pushing off his chest.
“Unless.” He lightly circled his hands around her wrists to keep her close.
She paused, narrowing her eyes.
He tried to think fast. “Unless there’s a fire, and Hank is in there and needs rescuing.”
She considered it for a moment. “Fine.” She started to pull away again, but he held on.
What else could he say to keep her exactly like this—on top of him? He wasn’t ready to give her up. “Or, unless there’s an earthquake, and you’re trapped under that treacherous lump of a recliner, and you need rescuing.”
Kat rolled her eyes. “I think I could manage that on my own, thanks.”
“True, but you’d need to conserve your strength because of the flood outside.”
She arched a brow and began to smile. It made his heart flatline in his chest. God, he wanted her. “Oh, there’s a flood now?”
“Yes.” He rubbed his thumbs lightly over the delicate skin of her inner wrists, wondering if she was this soft all over. He wanted—needed—to find out.
“I’ll be fine,” she said impishly. “I’m a good swimmer. I won’t need your help.” She started to jump up but he caught her around the waist and pulled her back down on top of him.
Kat let out a little shriek of laughter.
“But who will steer the ark?” he murmured against her ear. “You know, the one I built? To save all the animals?”
He could feel her chest vibrating with laughter. She slid her knees on either side of his hips until she was straddling him.
Jordan’s throat went dry, and heat spiked through his veins. He suddenly knew exactly how the poor knight in the painting felt. Helpless to resist.
“Now you’re just trying to sweet-talk me.” Her voice was like warm silk sliding over his skin.
“I might be,” he said huskily. “Is it working?”
She pushed against his chest and rose up slowly. “It might be.”
A bolt of lust shot through him, and he reflexively reached up to grip her hips.
“You still haven’t promised,” she breathed. “Promise you’ll never enter my apartment again.”
Jordan had to work to find his voice. “I promise. I won’t unless you ask me.”
“And that I never will. So, problem solved.”
He wanted to say her problem was far from solved, because he had every intention of chipping away at her carefully constructed walls until she begged him to come inside, but how could he form coherent words when she was on top of him? Very slowly, she leaned forward until her hair fell in a soft curtain around them, and he could feel the warmth of her breath against his mouth. It was everything he could do just to hold still
and let her go at her own pace.
“I think I might need to kiss you again,” she whispered.
Thank Christ. All systems were go. No argument there. Except she’d better hurry or he’d kiss her first.
She melted over him like warm honey until every delicious curve of her body wrapped around him. “Oh, and also, I’m bringing home a friend for Waffles this week.”
Somewhere deep down, Jordan knew he should care. But holy hell, she could bring home the entire San Diego Zoo if she’d just—
She brushed her lips over his. Once. Twice. The tip of her tongue darted out and she licked his mouth, like a cat lapping cream.
And that was it. A mortal man could only take so much.
Jordan gripped the small of her back with one hand, anchoring her tightly against him. Then he slid his other arm around her and, in one swift move, rolled until she was exactly where he needed her to be.
Kat’s eyes widened in surprise, hair fanning out on the grass as she lay beneath him. Then she reached up and wound her fingers around his neck, pulling him closer with a tiny exhale. He captured her mouth with his, swallowing her sigh.
Sweet. Hot. Damn. Her soft murmur of surrender just about blew every shred of decency and control he had left. All the blood in his brain rushed lower, leaving him with only one coherent thought. Mine. He wanted her, and he wasn’t going to waste any time trying to analyze that. Kat Davenport drove him crazy, but he’d go there with an idiot smile on his face because there was no place he’d rather be.
They kissed until he lost track of time. Minutes, hours, days, he didn’t care. When he slid his hand up her thigh, dropped kisses along her neck, and sucked on the pulse at the base of her throat, she made a soft, mewling sound that almost killed him. She smelled like strawberries and vanilla, tasted like wild, sweet abandon, and he wanted all of her. Every breath. Every sigh. Every whimper of need. He couldn’t get enough. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Jordan recognized just how screwed he was, because this woman was dangerous. She blasted past all his barriers and made him forget reason and common sense. Yes, they were outside in the open field. Yes, he should have more control. But did he care? Not even a little. One word—one tiny whisper—from her and he’d give her everything he had. If she’d let him.