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“I’m sorry. I’m always such a klutz.”
“Some things never change.” Vince laughed, a rich sound that seeped into Jill’s system and made her want to relax until she looked in his dark eyes and saw the same lure of heat that had made her heart pound when she was a teenager. Now her heart nearly stopped. Was she destined to be simultaneously intimidated and drawn to Vince?
As if sensing her confusion, Vince let his laughter fade away. His gaze trapped hers.
Thunder grumbled in the distance.
“You say that like it’s a good thing.” Turning away, Jill slapped paint on the last bare corners of her board. The wind had picked up, quivering the tree limbs overhead. “It’s getting late. You need to go before the storm comes.”
WHAT HAPPENED HERE?
One minute Vince was convinced Jill was out to fleece him and the next she had him eating out of her hand, only to send him away as if she hadn’t noticed the sparks between them. Which, considering their past, shouldn’t surprise him.
Vince had driven out to Shady Oak for some answers and had come up empty. Jill had ignored his demands to know why she’d left and he’d forgotten—forgotten—to ask her why she wasn’t going to support the casino. Frustration burned beneath his skin, and the pent-up energy demanded release.
Vince fired up the Porsche, toying with the idea of gunning it down the driveway as if he were a broken-hearted teenager. Maturity won out only because the gravel would pepper his fenders. Instead, Vince backed out quickly and took off with just a bit more gas than was wise.
The sky ignited with lightning, and thunder bellowed so close it shook the car.
His headlights picked up a smoking pink housecoat.
Vince slammed on the brakes. He’d almost taken out an old woman in curlers walking her poofy, volleyball-size, white dog. And indulging in a pipe.
The thunder faded away.
Vince’s heart started beating again. He turned off the engine, left the lights on and hopped out into the windy night. “Sorry about that. Are you okay?”
Silver curlers glinted in the car’s beams. The old woman drew the pipe slowly from her mouth. “I nearly peed my pants. Think Moonbeam piddled herself. How ’bout you?”
Relief had him grinning. “Pretty damn close.”
Moonbeam’s white hair stuck out like porcupine quills, but whether that was from fright or her natural state, Vince didn’t know.
“Name’s Edda Mae. I buzzed you in the gate.” The woman drew on her pipe, sending wisps of smoke curling into the air. “Saw you speak in town. I had hopes for you, boy.”
“The project is in the early stages. Don’t give up on me yet.”
“Wasn’t talkin’ about your money.” Edda Mae gestured with her pipe to the glowing windows above the Edda Mae’s Dining Emporium sign.
Vince glanced up at Jill’s place, allowing the woman to make assumptions. Jill had left Vegas and made something of herself while he’d flailed around without a clear purpose. A better man might not have felt jealousy. In any case, he’d get this casino off the ground despite Jill’s opposition, and then he’d finally feel as if he’d accomplished something.
Fat drops fell in a faltering pattern around them.
“Shouldn’t be out in this weather. You got a place to stay?” Edda Mae’s gaze was piercing.
“No.”
“You best park that thing over here. Don’t know why young bucks need to drive like they’re havin’ bad sex.” She turned toward a miniature house on the downhill side of the garage. “Fast, fast, fast. What a waste.”
“Beg pardon?” He couldn’t have heard her right.
“The rain’s come,” Edda Mae said, her eyes trained on the rocky ground as she walked away. “The road won’t be safe. You’ll have to stay here tonight. Best hurry before I change my mind, boy.” As Edda Mae climbed the steps to the narrow covered front porch, the rain arrived with a roar, sending Vince scrambling for cover.
A few minutes later he sat on an antique brocade love seat with worn-out cushions and wood trim that creaked every time he breathed. The small cottage was crammed with an eclectic mix of possessions—Native American baskets and pottery, a short section of picket fence leaning against a wall, a 49ers calendar from two years ago—and smelled of tobacco. Moonbeam sat just out of reach and stared at Vince with dark, beady eyes.
“Whiskey?” Edda Mae asked, seemingly unconcerned that she was entertaining in her pink chenille robe and curlers.
“Beer?” he countered.
“Coffee?”
“Black. Let me help you.” Vince leaned forward to stand, but Moonbeam started yapping. Vince sat back again.
“Moonbeam doesn’t like strangers in the house. Best stay where you are. Besides, Jill gave me one of those newfangled coffee machines last Christmas.”
Vince slid to the end of the couch. The little beast pranced along with him, growling. Vince scowled at her. They were still having a face-off when Edda Mae came out with two mugs.
She handed the steaming one to Vince and then parked herself in a big brown recliner. “You aren’t a dog person, are you.”
“Never had one.” The ceramic mug was too hot to hold. Vince set it on a coaster on the antique end table.
Still growling, Moonbeam tilted sideways along with his arm. All it would take is one swift boot…
Edda Mae took a swig from her cup and studied Vince through faded brown eyes that seemed too knowing. “Everybody should have a dog. They’re man’s best friend.”
Vince shook his head. Moonbeam’s nose twitched. The dog was annoying but cute. He could never really hurt her.
“Ever own a cat?”
“No.”
“Canary?”
“No.”
The rain came down with hail-like ferocity. Moonbeam licked her chops as if anticipating an Italian snack.
“That’s just not right.” Edda Mae imbibed a bit more and then pinned him with squinty eyes. “You ain’t been around for Teddy.”
Vince opened his mouth to explain that he wasn’t the boy’s father, but thought better of it. Moonbeam’s snarl filled the air, instead.
A framed picture of Jill holding a baby with ruddy cheeks and a gummy grin caught his eye. “You watch out for Jill,” Vince observed, feeling unexpectedly empty. “I should go.”
If Vince slept on the antique love seat, he’d have to hang his legs over the side, and he was certain to wake up with kinks in several places.
“No need. I’ll get you set for the night. Jill’s an early riser.”
Edda Mae stood with the exacting precision of one who doesn’t always feel stable on her feet when she first gets up. “Come along.”
Ignoring Moonbeam’s noisy protests, Vince steadied Edda Mae, moving her toward what he took to be a closet where he guessed she kept the extra bedding.
Edda Mae dug in her heels. “I’m not going to let you into my bedroom, young man. We’ve only just met.”
He released the old woman. “I’m sorry. If you give me a blanket, I’ll make the bed.” Vince tried not to look at the love seat.
Now it was Edda Mae’s turn to take his arm, steering him toward the door. “You’re not sleeping with me. You’re sleeping with Jill.”
Much as the idea appealed to Vince, he was sure Jill would think differently. “Why don’t you put me in one of those guest cottages?”
Edda Mae pulled on a neon-pink hooded slicker over her curlers and robe. “We had the exterminator in this afternoon. Ain’t nobody staying in those rooms until they’ve been aired out and wiped clean. And we can’t start that until tomorrow.”
Frowning, Edda Mae looked Vince up and down, then handed him a small purple umbrella with pink polka dots. “Which is why you’ll be sleeping with your wife tonight.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“I THOUGHT married people lived together.”
“Most of them do.” Jill had finished reading Teddy a chapter of his book, raising her voice to be heard above the rain beating on their roof. Now her throat felt scratchy.
Eyes averted, Teddy plucked at his comforter. It was lime green and matched one of the walls she and Teddy had painted. “Are you going to live together?”
“No.” She’d been surprised to see that Vince still wore his wedding ring. Because of Craig, Jill used hers like a shield. Vince had no reason to wear his. “We don’t have a marriage like other people. In fact, I don’t know how long we’re going to stay married. I doubt Vince will come back.”
More plucking by Teddy.
“What’s bothering you?”
“Can’t we keep him? As my dad?”
“No! He’s a person, not a pet.”
“Everybody else has a dad but me.” Teddy gave Jill his best puppy-dog eyes.
“You know that’s not true.”
Teddy tugged at the comforter some more. “I think I’ll go to sleep now.”
“Teddy?”
“I’m really tired.” He rolled over to face the wall, leaving Jill no choice but to turn off the light and wish him good-night.
As soon as she closed Teddy’s door someone knocked on the front one, followed by a muffled, “It’s me. Edda Mae.”
“What’s wrong? Did the power go out in your cottage?” It was really storming now and there was no reason for Edda Mae to be up. As quickly as she could, Jill undid the old chain, flipped back the dead bolt and turned the lock on the handle.
“Surprise,” Vince said, looking windblown and more handsome than he had a right to, hugging the rail as Edda Mae traipsed past him down the stairs.
“Edda Mae?” Jill’s cheeks heated. She should have made sure Vince left thirty minutes ago.
“Storm’s here. Remember your manners,” Edda Mae called.
The wind rushed up the stairwell, past Vince and his duffel, dancing around Jill’s bare feet.
“Should I walk her back?” Vince glanced after Jill’s meddling surrogate mother, a small purple umbrella clutched in his hand.
“Did she pull that frail-old-woman act on you? She’s steadier on her feet than a mountain goat and just as stubborn. She’ll be fine.” At least until the morning when Jill gave her a piece of her mind.
Vince nodded absently. Neither of them spoke. The rain continued to pour.
“I should go,” Vince said eventually. Yet he stood there staring. At Jill.
For about two seconds, Jill considered making Vince drive in the storm. Water gushed out of the rain gutter below. The route down the mountain was treacherous; and anything could happen on a night like this—mud slides, hidden potholes, unexpected pools of water. It wouldn’t take much for someone unfamiliar with the road driving a sexy little sports car a bit too fast to end up stuck in a ditch. Or worse.
“I suppose Edda Mae told you about our cottages. All I’ve got to offer you is the couch.” A lumpy, short couch.
“That’ll do.” Without setting eyes on it, Vince flashed Jill his dimple.
It was such a rare sight—that dimple—that it took her back to their wedding day. Jill was frozen, spellbound.
“Jill?” Vince gestured toward the living room. “Can I come in?”
Jill stumbled to the side to let Vince pass and escaped to collect a clean sheet and blanket. She took a pillow from her own bed. When she returned Vince was examining the wall where her framed photos were arranged. He’d removed his tie and unbuttoned his dress shirt. The T-shirt beneath fit him snugly and Jill paused in the hallway, struck with the urge to run her hands over the soft cotton, something she’d done many times to her shadow husband. But never to the real thing. She wouldn’t have the courage.
“Where was this one taken?” Vince straightened a picture of Teddy. With a grin as wide as Texas, Teddy stood on the bank of a river holding a golf-ball-size piece of fool’s gold, looking like he was trying to convince Jill he’d struck it rich.
Clutching the bedding tighter, Jill propelled herself past Vince. “The Mokelumne River. It’s not far from here.”
“Looks like you had a great time that day. My family doesn’t have pictures like this. I’m not sure why…” He wandered farther down the wall of photos.
Jill experienced a pang of guilt. Vince had mentioned earlier he’d wanted to be a part of Teddy’s life. He’d said as much before they’d gotten married, too. Why was he so attached to a child he hadn’t fathered when she…?
Jill began folding and tucking the bedding into the creases of the couch. Now she was feeling guilty about the couch, too. “This wasn’t designed for someone to sleep on. It’s short.”
“And narrow,” he added, staring at it.
She’d finished with the linens, but she couldn’t look at Vince and her mobility problem had returned. Her feet were leaden, weighted down by myriad emotions—desire, shame, confusion—all of them unwelcome. “But at least you’ll be safe and dry tomorrow morning.”
Vince sighed. “So I can be on my way.”
“Yes.” So that her life could return to normal.
“And you can try to derail the tribe’s plan for a casino.” There was no hint of recrimination in his voice. “Is Shady Oak that successful on its own?”
“I’m just breaking even.” It was painful to admit.
Jill couldn’t quite bring herself to look at Vince. “The key to Shady Oak’s success is in our luxurious accommodations and isolation. Wireless service doesn’t work here. Without the daily distractions of e-mail and cell-phone calls, my clients can focus and be more productive.” Her parents had alternately complained and praised that aspect of Shady Oak on one of their rare visits. “Edda Mae is a wonderful storyteller. She has a Native American story with a moral to fit every situation. We promise at least one story each booking.”
Vince was frowning at his BlackBerry. “And the vacation homes?”
