скачать книгу бесплатно
“Well,” she said eventually, “I did ask for impulsive, but that wasn’t exactly what I had in mind. Next time I’ll be more specific.”
When Moriah took an impromptu swim he decided to join her. For sure, he needed to cool his heels—and other parts of his body that had overheated. He wondered if she was suffering the same need to cool off and put some time and emotional distance between that explosive kiss that they had just experienced.
Jake was more than a little relieved that Moriah chose to pretend the kiss didn’t happen, because that was fine by him. She piled on her horse and started yakkety-yakking about ways to reduce stress so his life would become more well-rounded and personally fulfilling. Jake tried to pay attention, he really did, but the way her wet clothes clung to her voluptuous body like a coat of paint was one hell of a distraction.
MORIAH PULLED the cake from the oven, set it aside to cool, and then rifled through her cabinets for vanilla and a sack of powdered sugar. She had decided to make Jake’s birthday an event that would bring her guests and staff together for a party in the lobby. The occasion would serve two purposes—celebrating Jake’s birthday in a casual setting and creating time for informal conversation. There were no power lunches or business conferences at Triple R, and Moriah wanted her guests to function in laid-back settings. They needed to carry on conversations unrelated to business. One of their biggest problems was learning to broaden their focus of interests.
Plus, this shindig would ensure Moriah wouldn’t be alone with Jake. Having discovered how wildly responsive she was to him had thrown her for a loop. After that scorching kiss, she’d needed a swim to get herself in hand. She’d told herself not to get involved with Jake. Yet, she’d stepped over the line—did a hundred-yard dash over it was more accurate! But damn, that man knew how to kiss and leave a woman burning—inside and out!
Moriah told herself to calm down when she realized she was whipping the icing so frantically that she nearly beat the finish off the bowl. She was tense and she almost never got tense because she practiced breathing exercises and relaxation techniques. Yet, here she was, reliving that incredibly amazing kiss and wishing for more of the same. What was she thinking!
“Relax,” she told herself sternly. “Focus.”
“Pardon?”
Moriah had been so distracted that she forgot she’d brought her dad over to her apartment for a private visit. He’d been making some electronic adjustments to his motorized cart and watching TV while she whipped up the cake.
“Nothing, Dad. Just talking to myself.” She glanced over at her silver-haired father to note he was fumbling with the remote control. Her first impulse was to dash over to help him, but she stayed where she was. William Randell was learning to work around the partial paralysis in his left side and was determined to be as independent as possible.
“Whose birthday did you say we’re celebrating tonight?” Will asked.
“Jake Prescott’s.”
“The new guy,” he said with a pensive nod. “The one who put up the big fuss about being here. Is he doing better?”
“Uh…yeah. I saw him and his pup canoeing down the river this afternoon. I think he’s settling in.”
“Anna said another guest arrived a couple of hours ago to replace the guest in cabin two. From Saint Louis, right?”
“Right.” Moriah washed the powdered sugar off her hands, then plunked down on the sofa. “Very demanding sort of individual.”
“Gonna be trouble?”
“Probably. He’s expecting an instant fix to stressful habits he’s spent a lifetime developing.”
“If anybody can teach him to relax and unwind, you can, hon,” he said confidently.
Moriah leaned over to give her dad a peck on the cheek. “Thanks for your vote of confidence.”
His hand folded over hers and she swallowed the lump that suddenly clogged her throat. For years they’d passed by each other like ships in the night without really knowing each other. Her dad had been a guest in his own home and Moriah never felt as if she understood him until he was forced into retirement and required her care.
It had taken Will a year to adjust to his limited lifestyle, but now he spent his time modifying and creating electronic gadgets, whizzing around the resort on his cart and relaxing. Even better, she and Will had grown close these past three years.
“Did I ever tell you how grateful I am to have a daughter like you?” he murmured appreciatively.
She leaned over to give him an affectionate hug. “Did I ever tell you how grateful I am to have you?”
He patted her shoulder. “Thanks, honey. Don’t know where I’d be without you.” He inclined his gray head toward the kitchenette. “Better finish up that cake before I get all blubbery on you. It’ll ruin the hard-ass image I maintained in the business world.” He tapped the remote against the armrest of his cart. “Damn gadget won’t work right. What idiot tinkered with the design of these things anyway?”
Moriah chuckled as she bounded to her feet. “I do believe it was some of your technology that pioneered those gadgets. You were an electronic wizard in your day.”
His eyes twinkled and he smiled, though the muscles in the left side of his cheek drooped noticeably. “I was, wasn’t I?”
“Damn straight, Dad.”
While Will turned his attention to the new remote he’d designed to control all the lights in Moriah’s apartment, she iced the cake—and cursed herself soundly when her thoughts circled back to Jake. She couldn’t keep avoiding him. She’d left a rose on his doorstep this morning and asked Tom Stevens to deliver the glass of wine the previous night. It wasn’t like her to dodge awkward situations. She usually laughed and smiled her way through them.
Unfortunately, the tactic didn’t work quite as well with Jake. She was entirely too aware of him, too attracted to him, too embarrassed that she’d climbed all over him and groped at him while they’d kissed each other breathless. Sweet mercy! That was totally out of character for her. She didn’t do stuff like that—until Jake came along.
Moriah sighed in frustration, wondering what had gotten into her. She’d never reacted to a man like that before. She had to keep her distance and clear the air—sexually charged though it most definitely was—between them. Tomorrow she’d have a nonchalant visit with Jake, she decided as she slathered vanilla icing on the strawberry cake. They’d get past that impulsive kiss and things would be back on an even keel—she hoped.
JAKE PACED the floorboards, then checked his watch for the umpteenth time in two hours. This place was driving him straight south to crazyville! He’d had nothing to do all day and he’d had all day to do it. Sure, he’d checked out a canoe and paddled Spitwad on the river for an hour, and then he’d hiked up the hillside path to visually pan the plush valley below. Still, he felt edgy, restless and twitchy. He needed a computer mouse under his fingertips and a monitor screen to stare at. He needed to work to keep his mind off Moriah who’d been avoiding him since that sizzling kiss that made him uncomfortable in all the wrong places.
He needed to apologize—if he could manage to get her alone for more than five seconds. She’d breezed by once or twice, flashing that cheery smile, on her way to visit other guests, but she’d taken a noticeably wide berth around Jake.
He checked his watch again, then glanced down to see Spitwad sprawled on the floor, sound asleep. Speaking of sleep, Jake couldn’t believe he’d slept until eight o’clock this morning. Ordinarily, he was up and at ’em by six. He was pretty sure Moriah had added a sedative to the wine she had Tom deliver the previous evening. Surely his internal time clock and razor-sharp business edge hadn’t deserted him on their own accord. There had to be a reason—like sleeping potions and tranquilizers and such, he decided suspiciously.
Whirling around, Jake headed for the door. He was going to find Moriah and get things squared away. She needed to know there’d be no more kissing, that he’d keep his hands to himself. She wouldn’t have to feel wary or uncomfortable around him because he wasn’t going to touch her again—ever.
Jake strode swiftly toward the lodge that was lit up like a Christmas tree in the darkness. He’d probably have to chitchat with the other guests a while before he managed to draw Moriah aside. He’d get the apology over with and then hightail it back to his cabin to play tug-of-war with Spitwad. The mutt had already chewed a hole in one of Jake’s socks, so he’d tied the demolished sock in a knot and whiled away his time with the pesky pup. Amazing what lengths a guy would go to when he had to entertain himself—or risk going insane from boredom. In two weeks he’d probably be nuttier than a jar of Jif.
Jake was fifty feet from the lodge when Moriah appeared on the porch. The golden glow spotlighted and accentuated her eye-catching physique. She was wearing a jungle-print ensemble that featured zebras, tigers, colorful parrots and frothy ferns. Her blond hair was piled loosely atop her head by some invisible means of support he couldn’t figure out. Damn, but he’d like to unwind that silky mass of hair and run his fingers through it, then pull her lush body against—
Jake gnashed his teeth and cursed himself soundly. Damn it, he had to get past this physical attraction and he better do it fast.
“Hi, Jake,” Moriah called out, waving her arms like a cheerleader on the sidelines. “I was on my way over to see you.”
“Yeah? What for?” Did he sound casual enough? Too snippy and uptight? He tried for a neutral tone that disguised his frustration. “So, what’s up, Mo?”
“There’s something I want to show you.” She gestured for him to follow her into the lodge. “Come on inside and have a look.”
5
JAKE HALTED in his tracks when he walked into the lobby to see nine guests, four staff members and Will Randell gathered around the dining table where a cake waited with his name printed on it in red icing. His mouth dropped open wide enough for a pheasant to roost.
“Happy birthday, Jake,” the group said in unison.
Everyone had a beaming smile on his face, except the newcomer who seemed to think he was too good for a party where he wasn’t the center of attention. Jake inwardly winced, wondering if he’d given the same offensive impression when he arrived, demanding to be released so he could go home where he belonged. He felt the need to apologize to the entire staff for being troublesome.
“Thanks,” Jake murmured humbly. “Who made the cake?”
When he glanced at Anna Jefferies, she hitched her thumb toward Moriah. “Don’t look at me. She’s the one who took time out to bake.”
Jake focused his attention on Moriah, but her smiling gaze was directed over his left shoulder, avoiding eye contact. Yep, he’d blown the companionable camaraderie he’d enjoyed the previous morning before he kissed her lips off and practically climbed all over her on the back of Ol’ Sally. Sheesh! What was the matter with him? He must be cracking up.
“Have a seat, everyone, and I’ll dish up the ice cream,” Moriah said cheerily.
“So, Jake what’s the age count?” the burly Tom Stevens asked as he sank down at the table and made room for Will Randell’s motorized cart.
“Thirty-six.”
“Well, aren’t you the spring chicken around here,” Joe Higdon, the frizzy-haired guest from cabin six, said with a snicker. “Took me until age sixty-one to realize I was a fanatic workaholic in need of relaxation.”
Several other guests nodded their heads—which were in various states of balding.
“Do yourself a favor, Jake m’boy,” Will Randell remarked as he grabbed a glass of decaffeinated tea. “Learn to take life a little easier now so you don’t end up like me. Now I’m trying to make each day count and have some fun along the way.”
“No, kidding, kid,” Eugene Morris, the guest from cabin eight, chimed in. “I had to have myself a heart attack before I realized I was pressing too hard. Scared the bejeezus out of me.”
“Yeah, well, try hyperventilating and collapsing at the podium while giving a speech at a corporate board meeting,” Harold Pinkly, the guest from cabin nine, spoke up. “That will open your eyes in a hurry.”
While Jake parked himself at the head of the table—being the guest of honor that he was—he heard testimonials from everyone except the sour-faced gent who made it apparent that he was a little too good to be bonding with a bunch of corporate-whiz has-beens.
While Jake devoured the moist, delicious strawberry cake and ice cream, he formed closer acquaintances with the men. He was surprised that Moriah’s guests hailed from all parts of the country. Obviously her resort’s reputation was known far and wide, because Joe was from Dallas, Harold from Omaha and Eugene from Detroit.
Immediately, the cogs in Jake’s brain started cranking. He could create an incredible Web site to promote Moriah’s resort, one with enticing scenic pictures, peaceful music and all the necessary blurbs to advertise her myriad of recreational activities. Add to that a few testimonials praising positive results, a couple of tips for relaxation, and Moriah would have stressed-out businessmen clambering to her cabins in the panoramic valley.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to skip the fun and games and have a look at my cabin,” Robert Fullerton demanded as he stared down his nose at Moriah. “I’ve had a long drive from Saint Louis, after all.”
“Sure thing.” Moriah vaulted from her chair, her cheerful smile intact. “I’ll show you to the cabin.”
Jake was unprepared for his agitated reaction to Fullerton’s snippy attitude toward Moriah. It was fine for him to fling barbs at her, but let someone else come down hard on her and it ticked Jake off royally. Jeez, he had no right to feel possessive or protective. He’d only been here a couple of days and kissed her once. He didn’t have any rights whatsoever…but that didn’t stop him from feeling the urge to put in his two cents’ worth. With great effort he kept his trap shut and ate his birthday cake.
When the party crowd migrated to the living area to watch Will demonstrate his new electronic gadget that controlled the lights and catch the evening news, weather and sports, Jake took a long hard look at the other guests. It dawned on him—hit him like a lightning bolt, actually—that he was staring into his own bleak future when he gazed at these older men who’d worked themselves into anxiety attacks, heart seizures and strokes. He could be back here in twenty years, learning to take a more laid-back approach to life.
Jeez, Louise! He might become a burden to his sisters who, by then, would have children of their own and additional family expenses. He’d be the shriveled up, burned-out uncle stuffed in the corner and his nieces and nephews would have to veer around him on their way out the door to enjoy life. He’d probably have to be spoon-fed meals because carpal tunnel syndrome would cause his hands and wrists to function improperly.
Damn, he needed to chill out a little, he decided. He needed to find a hobby that he enjoyed and work it into his business routine…. He needed to take some time to stop and smell the roses….
The epiphany made him bolt upright and take another look around the room at the older men who were drumming their fingers on the armrests of their chairs, tapping their feet, twitching nervously and squirming restlessly in their seats. Holy cow! He realized his fingers were clenched around his glass of iced tea and he was tapping his foot. He forced himself to relax and unwind.
Okay, so maybe he was wound up tighter than a spring. He could fix that if he stayed the full two weeks and dedicated his time to recreational activity. Just because he made a pact with himself, there and then, to take his life at a less hectic pace didn’t mean he had to give up his devotion to his sisters and their new husbands. He could fulfill his professional responsibilities and keep a close family bond and still drop what he was doing when his sisters needed him. That would never change. Kim and Lisa would always be top priority because he’d made a commitment—financially and emotionally—to be there for them when needed. But he sure as hell didn’t want his sisters and brothers-in-law to have to care for him when he stumbled over the edge because he worked himself into an early collapse! After all, he was only good at relationships where others were dependent on him, same as Moriah was. He couldn’t function as the dependent in a relationship. It would feel too unnatural.
Jake surged from his chair and strode purposely toward Tom Stevens who was lounging in the La-Z-Boy recliner. “Tom, I’d like a massage, first thing in the morning. Can you work me in?”
Tom glanced up, his unibrow soaring up to his hair-line. “No kidding? Good for you, Jake. Sure thing. How about right after breakfast?”
Jake nodded. “I’m there.”
After Tom gave him two thumbs-up and flashed a toothy grin, Jake wheeled toward Kent, the bowlegged wrangler in charge of the stables and livestock. “Sign me up for a ride after my massage,” he requested. “And don’t put me on Ol’ Sally again. I want a horse with enough stamina and spirit to hold up for a two-hour ride.”
Kent chuckled at Jake’s newfound enthusiasm for recreation. “You bet, pardner. Want some company or is this a solo ride?”
“Solo,” Jake requested. “I plan to absorb the scenic countryside and do some in-depth personal meditation, if you don’t mind.”
Kent shrugged. “Sure, whatever you need, Jake. I used to do some serious meditation after one of those crazed rodeo bulls launched me through the air, then tried to trample me when I hit the dirt. That’s why I’m here instead of ridin’ the suicide circuit. I woke up in the hospital one day with my ribs busted and my knee twisted from its socket. I realized there had to be an easier way to make a livin’.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Tom agreed as he massaged his bulky shoulder. “I used to be an offensive tackle for the Dallas Cowboys until a bruiser, who was bigger and meaner, laid me out and knocked me unconscious. He also separated me from a few teeth. I decided I was getting too old and brittle to butt heads and fly all over the country, living out of a suitcase.”
“Same for me,” Chester Gray commented as he twisted in his chair to glance up at Jake. “I attacked the pro golf tour like a maniac for years. Got to where I couldn’t remember where I called home and booze was my most reliable companion.” He shook his sandy head and smiled ruefully. “Thanks to Moriah, I’m doing what I love and helping other folks take up the game of golf for pleasure and relaxation. Nothing makes me happier than giving a few pointers and then seeing one of the guests drive the ball down the fairway, after they’d whiffed it a few times without my help.”
Jake didn’t know where Moriah had found this motley group, but obviously she was a decent judge of character when it came to handpicking her staff. No doubt, she’d taken them under wing and worked her recreational magic on them as well. He suspected these relationships she had developed with her staff had originated from need and dependence and progressed to friendship and loyalty. Everyone around here seemed to think Moriah hung the moon and made the sun shine.
Well, Jake fully intended to take advantage of this resort, now that his eyes were open and his head was on straight. Yessiree, he’d have hobbies galore when he returned to his world. His sisters would stop fretting over him, because he’d no longer be Mr. Predictable who was stuck in a rut. He’d be Mr. All-Around from here on out.
Resolved to making life-altering changes in his behavior, Jake hiked off to tend to his first order of business—apologizing to Moriah. His attraction to her was going to be at the bottom of his list of things to do at the resort, he promised himself. He’d view her only as a recreational director and friend. No more getting sidetracked by her enchanting face and tantalizing figure wrapped in those outrageous and wildly colorful clothes. He’d divert his interest and attention to one hobby after another. Hell, he’d be Mr. Hobby. No more fierce intensity and one-track business mind for him. He was a changed man!
Jake was jostled from his thoughts by a feminine squawk that came from the area near cabin two. He sprinted through the darkness, dodging trees, to determine what had happened. He skidded to a halt and gnashed his teeth when he saw two silhouettes wrestling with one another.
“Hey! What’s going on here!” he boomed.
Jake’s arrival allowed Moriah to shove Robert Fullerton back into his own space. The man had followed her outside for his version of slap and tickle, after she’d managed to dodge his advances in the cabin. Damn, this jerk had a lot to learn about backing off and calming down.
Oh sure, some guests flirted with her from time to time and she had her own way of sidestepping unwanted advances. Robert, however, didn’t respond as readily to the lack of interest she paid to his suggestive innuendoes. If the domineering chump didn’t back off she’d send Tom over to have a man-to-man talk with him. Tom had been called in a couple of times the past five years—usually with miraculous results.
“Buzz off, pal,” Robert scowled when Jake advanced on him. “Sorry, birthday boy, but you’ll have to wait your turn. Moriah and I are getting acquainted right now—Whoa! Calm down, man!”
Moriah gasped in surprise when Jake clenched his fists in the front of Robert’s dress shirt and jerked him clean off the ground. “That isn’t necessary,” she assured him, trying to step between the two men.
“Yeah, it is,” Jake contradicted in a growl, never taking his eyes off the fifty-eight-year-old businessman. “Listen up, Bobby-boy, you behave yourself around Ms. Randell or I’ll be all over you like a bad rash. Are we clear on that?”
Robert shoved himself away and made a big production of smoothing the wrinkles from his silk shirt. “Look, bozo, I happen to be very influential in—”
“I don’t give a flying f—ig where your influence lies in the world outside Triple R,” Jake snapped brusquely. “Around here, you’re a guest and Ms. Randell is your recreational director. You treat her with the courtesy and respect she deserves. Starting now. Apologize.”
Robert’s square chin shot up defiantly. “No, she was stringing me along.”
Moriah opened her mouth to deny the preposterous claim, but Jake beat her to the punch.
“No, she didn’t,” he snarled ferociously. “Apologize!”
When Robert stubbornly refused, Jake pounced like a cheetah to twist the older man’s arm up the middle of his back.
“Ouch, you son of a—”
“Now!” Jake growled down the man’s neck.
“Fine…Ow!…I’m sorry,” Robert yelped.
Jake pushed him away, as if he found physical contact offensive. Moriah knew that feeling exceptionally well. She’d shivered with repulsion when Robert tried to slobber all over her. She had the unmistakable feeling Robert considered himself a regular ladies’ man. No doubt, Robert used his power of position to hit on women in the workplace—and anywhere else he could make a pass.
“Now, beat it, Full-of-Yourself,” Jake demanded.
“The name is Fullerton,” Robert said hatefully.
“I think you and I need to take a long ride up the mountain in the morning,” Jake insisted.
“Be careful you don’t knock him off the mountain-top,” Moriah advised, lips twitching.
