All Shook Up Page 8

  “I know they do. But jeez Louise, Char, I met this guy yesterday.” She regarded her friend. “Do you think if I offered Tate a hundred bucks I could keep him from blabbing to Aunt Soph?”

  “Not a chance.”

  “That’s pretty much my gut feeling, too,” Dru agreed glumly. “And we both know forbidding a kid to do or say anything only makes it that much more appealing.” Squeezing her temples between the heels of her hands, she gave her friend a morose look. “It’s official, then—I’m screwed.”

  “Certainly sounds as if you could be, if that’s what you really wanted. Some women have all the luck.” Char’s brown eyes glowed with interest. “So c’mon, tell me. How did you and Mr. Construction come to be kissing?”

  “Good question. It all started when I needed a baby-sitter and Aunt Sophie saw J.D. as the answer.” She explained the circumstances that followed. “And the next thing I know, he’s pushing me up against the porch pillar and kissing me senseless,” she concluded.

  “He’s good, I take it?”

  Dru shrugged. “He was okay.” Liar, liar, pants on fire. Every hormone in her body stood at attention merely thinking about that kiss.

  It scared her to death.

  Char knew it, too, but she just smirked knowingly over the glass of iced tea she’d raised to her lips. “Tate sure seems to like him.”

  “I know. I think it’s because J.D. lets him do all that guy stuff that I don’t know diddly about. I’m telling you, Char, if I hear “J.D. says” one more time, I’m afraid I’ll do something violent.”

  “So where do you and the hunkmeister go from here?”

  “Absolutely nowhere.” On that much, at least, Dru was unequivocally clear. “I was curious, but my curiosity’s been satisfied. End of story.”

  “Uh-huh.” Char shook her head in disgust and nudged Dru’s thigh with her bare toes. “You’re an idiot, Drucilla Jean.”

  “That pretty much goes without saying,” Dru agreed. “But not for the reasons you think, I bet.”

  7

  The following afternoon Sophie heard the screen door creak open, then slap closed with the homey sound of wood against wood. She looked up, even though the front door wasn’t visible from her work station in the kitchen. A smile curved her lips when Ben’s voice called out, “Soph! I’m home. You here, babe?”

  She came out of the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel and feeling the lightness that always lifted her heart whenever she saw her husband after even the briefest separation. “Hi!” She strode into his open arms and laughed when he swung her off her feet in a circle. “How was your meeting?”

  “Okay. Marv Peterman was more long-winded than usual, which I didn’t think was possible, but overall it was pretty decent. Henry was there. I asked him to look into that partnership we talked about for Dru.”

  “Oh, good. God knows she’s earned it. This thing with Edwina and J.D. really drove home the fact that she’s overdue some recognition for all the hard work she’s put into the lodge—drawing a paycheck just doesn’t cover it. Does Henry think he can get a third of our share drawn up for her by her birthday?”

  “He wouldn’t make any promises, but he said he’d look into it and get back to us by the end of the week at the latest. But enough about everyone else.” He bent his head to nuzzle her neck. “How’s my best girl?”

  “Umm.” She tilted her head to afford him easier access. “Fine. I missed you.” Arousal stirred and she pressed closer. She and Ben had shared an intense physical attraction from the first day they’d met. Some of the intensity had naturally faded over the years, but recently the unthinkable had happened: her sex drive had hit the skids entirely. The sudden loss was one more side effect of what Ben ironically called her “celebration” of womanhood.

  Reluctantly, she pulled back. “Damn. I hate to call a halt to this, considering I’m horny for the first time in what feels like forever, but I’ve got the restaurant’s bread in the oven, and it’s due to come out in”—she consulted her watch—“seven minutes.”

  Ben slid his hands down to her rear and gave her a squeeze. “I can be a real fast worker.”

  “Not that fast you can’t, bud. Your best time in the twenty-eight years I’ve known you is something like thirteen and a half minutes.”

  “Yeah?” He grinned. “Well, eliminate all that foreplay bullshit you women insist on and I bet I could show you a brand-new personal best.”

  She sighed and laid her head on his shoulder. “Oh, Ben, I miss it. I miss this. You’ve been so great with all my ups and downs, but I’m tired of feeling like an alien is inhabiting my body. I want me back.”

  “So do I, babe. Especially the sexually demanding you.”

  His plaintive tone made her laugh, and she hugged him. “Well, I don’t know,” she teased. “It’s sorta relaxing not to be at the mercy of my sex drive for a change.”

  He gave her that great big, God, I love you smile that had first won her heart more than a quarter century ago, and she found herself smiling back as fatuously as she ever had at twenty-three. “But seriously,” she said, “Margaret did say I’d get it back once the worst of this has passed, although it may never be quite as strong as it was.”

  Ben laughed. “Whose is?” He watched as she suddenly ripped her T-shirt from the waistband of her shorts and began flapping its hem with enough vigor to make her cream satin bra play peekaboo. It would have been humorous if he hadn’t seen the telltale flush that climbed her throat and face. Some days she got as many as four or five hot flashes an hour, giving her no rest. “What else did Margaret say? She have any new strategies for getting this under control?”

  “She’s going to start me on vitamin E and some progesterone cream that I’m supposed to rub into my skin.” Sophie made a rude noise. “That’ll make a huge difference, I’m sure. I don’t know, Ben, maybe I should just go back on the Premarin.”

  “Not with the history of breast cancer in your family—it’s too risky.”

  “At least it worked! God, I’m so tired of these hot flashes and losing my temper at the drop of a hat. I hardly recognize myself some days. I’ve lost it but good around Tate a few times already. I’m going to end up scarring the child’s psyche.”

  It was Ben’s turn to make a rude noise. “Tate lives for the opportunity to hear a dirty word he can repeat. Since his mama rigorously monitors his television and movie viewing, you’re the best entertainment going.”

  Sophie suddenly brightened. “Ooh. Speaking of Tate, he came visiting this morning with some very interesting news.”

  “Yeah?” The timer went off on the convection oven, and Ben followed her into the kitchen, watching as she efficiently transferred golden-brown loaves of bread to the marble countertop and reloaded the oven with a new batch.

  “Oh, yes, indeed.” She closed the oven door, set the timer, and tossed the pot holders on the countertop. “Seems Tate caught J.D. going at it with our Drucilla against one of the porch pillars.”

  “What?” Mellow good humor disintegrating, Ben’s spine snapped straight, and he pushed away from the doorjamb he’d been leaning against. “I’ll kill him.”

  Sophie laughed and grabbed his arm. “Easy, boy. He was only kissing her, and from what Tate said, it doesn’t sound as if she was fighting him off.”

  “Holy shit, Soph.” He squeezed the tense muscles at the back of his neck. “He’s been here, what, a lousy forty-eight hours? That’s a little too damn fast to start making time with my niece.”

  “How long did you know me before you kissed me, Ben?”

  “Hell,” he began indignantly, “I knew you for a good, uh—”

  “Eight hours tops, sport. And how long before we made love?”

  “That was different!” He didn’t even want to think about Dru in that context.

  “No, darling, it was exactly the same.”

  “We don’t know squat about this guy.”

  “We didn’t know anything about him when we decided to honor
Edwina’s wishes regarding the lodge, either, but we decided to go along with it.”

  “That’s hardly the same thing as standing by while he slaps the moves to our baby!”

  “Oh, honey, she’s not a baby, and frankly, I think it’s high time some man riled up her hormones again. She’s been so damn careful not to step outside the boundaries since Tate was born, and it’s just not natural. She needs more of a life than she’s allowed herself. And I like J.D., Ben. He has every excuse to be bitter and disenfranchised, but he’s a decent man.”

  “He’s sure as hell a suspicious one—the way Dru said he’s going over the books, you’d think our primary goal in life was to rob him blind. And I bet he’s pretty damn quick to use those big fists of his to settle an argument.”

  “Which wouldn’t be surprising, given the way he was brought up. But I bet he’s not as quick to use them as he is to use the threat of them. Being a construction foreman means overseeing a lot of men, many of whom, I imagine, only respect someone who can physically intimidate them. I certainly can’t picture him getting violent with a woman, though. I also have a hard time envisioning him just going off half cocked for no good reason. He might be a little rough around the edges, but he strikes me as steady. And God knows he’s honest.”

  “How the hell do you know that?”

  “Have you heard him hesitate to speak his mind, whether it’s something we want to hear or not?” She took his shrug as agreement and added, “And he seems to have a good mind. Besides, I like the way he looks at Dru.”

  “I know I’m going to regret asking this, but what way is that?”

  “Oh, my.” She came over to slide into his arms and hug him around the waist. “Like he’d like to eat her up with a spoon the way he did my crème brûlée.”

  He moaned, and Sophie laughed. “It’s not that bad, darling. I know you still think of Drucilla as your little girl, but watch her. She’s come alive the past couple of days, and that’s such a pleasure to see.” She kissed his throat, humming deep in her own. “I do believe I’m beginning to recapture that sexy feeling again.”

  “You’re just trying to distract me.”

  She wiggled against him. “Is it working?”

  “Oh, yeah.” He walked her backward toward the hall that led to their bedroom. “Like a charm.”

  J.D. closed the current year’s financial ledger and set it atop the journals from the previous two years on the kitchen table. Tipping his chair back on two legs, he crossed his arms over his chest while he stared up at the ceiling.

  Okay, so the Lawrences hadn’t cooked the books. But no one was as friendly as they’d been without a reason. In his experience, everyone wanted something—and he’d sure as hell like to know what it was that Ben and Sophie wanted from him.

  Not to mention Drucilla. And the pitiful truth was that she could probably get whatever she desired, if she ever kissed him again the way she had yesterday.

  The chair legs thumped down on the wooden floor as he sat up straight. He’d told himself he wasn’t going to think about that. It had been a fluke—the moon aligned with Jupiter or some such shit—that had put him and Dru in the same spot at the same time when emotions were running high on both sides. He was glad Tate had shown up when he had. It had saved them from making a mistake they’d both regret.

  Yeah, right. He shoved to his feet.

  Okay, he wanted in her pants. Badly. But a fuck was all it would be, and she was definitely one of those “make love” kind of women—which was to say, not his kind at all.

  Sex for him was purely recreational. It could be fun; it could be slow and lazy or down-and-dirty fast and furious. But in the end it boiled down to one thing only: your basic, no-frills fornication.

  Once upon a time, he’d looked for love. But not in recent years. A guy only had to have his teeth kicked down his throat a couple of times before he wised up.

  So he’d gotten lucky for about five minutes yesterday, but the odds against that happening again were pretty steep. There was no sense wasting time thinking about it. He gathered up the books and let himself out of the cabin.

  He didn’t know what the Lawrences’ game was, but he knew the only way to beat them at it was to learn everything he could about the lodge—its ins and outs and how it was run. Knowledge was power, and he planned to do what he always did in a new situation: suck up every bit of information he could unearth.

  Several moments later he knocked on Dru’s office door. He could hear her laughing and, filled with a sudden inexplicable impatience, he barely waited for her soft “Come in” before muscling through the door.

  She and a showy blonde sat on either side of her desk, and as they both turned to look at him, Dru’s laughter faded. The blonde regarded him with interest, but Dru looked at him as if he’d bulled his way in where he had no business being. His shoulders hunched up slightly.

  So, big deal. Like being an outsider was something new.

  “Hello,” the blonde said, exposing a deep set of dimples.

  She was his type of woman: flamboyant makeup and hair, flashy fingernails, friendly smile. “Hey, there.”

  “J.D., this is my friend Char McKenna,” Dru said, and his attention was immediately diverted from the blonde’s eye-catching attributes to Drucilla. Her prettiness was a subtler thing: shiny hair, a sprinkling of freckles, and those dark-lashed vibrant blue eyes. It didn’t make a damn bit of sense that she could make him forget the other woman was even in the room.

  “Char’s our masseuse here,” she told him. “Char, J.D. Carver. You know what he is.”

  Char choked and J.D. scowled at Drucilla. What the hell was that supposed to mean?

  Dru gave him a cool smile to disguise the surge of heat his abrupt appearance had elicited. For just an instant, she’d been thrown back into that kiss that she’d spent far too much time denying meant a darn thing. Taking a deep, quiet breath, she eased it out. “Is there something I can do for you, J.D.?”

  Oh, baby.

  She could practically hear the words as he gave her a very male look, one corner of his mouth tipping up. Glancing over, she caught Char pursing her lips in a silent whistle and fanning herself with her fingers, and Dru cursed her own hyperactive imagination as she envisioned all manner of things she could do for him. Damned if she’d be reduced to stuttering and acting like a flustered virgin, though. She raised her brows inquiringly.

  “Yeah.” The slight smile and animal heat disappeared, and he dropped the ledgers he’d borrowed on her desk. Straightening, he stood, hands on his narrow hips, and regarded her with level eyes. “Put me to work.”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “Anything that pertains to the joint. I want to learn it all.”

  That was fair enough. As a part owner, he should know every aspect of the business. “Okay.” She thought for a moment. “Do you have a pair of sneakers?”

  “Huh?”

  “Sneakers. Do you—”

  “I heard you. I just don’t see its relevance to teaching me the business.”

  “I’m going to put you to work at the front desk. It’s where every guest’s stay begins, so it seems an appropriate place to start. But it requires you to wear the uniform.” She indicated her own outfit. “We can supply you with the shorts and polo shirt, but we don’t provide shoes.”

  “I’ll go to town and pick up a pair.” He turned to Char and gave her one of his rare white smiles. “Nice meeting you.” Glancing back at Dru, he pinned her in place with the intensity of his regard. “I’ll be back in a half hour or so.”

  Dru couldn’t have said why that struck her as more warning than promise.

  The door closed behind him, and Char sagged back in her seat. “Whoa. Be still, my heart.” She gave Dru a look. “And you said kissing him was okay? I’m surprised we didn’t have to air-vac you to the Harborview burn unit in Seattle.” She stared at the door consideringly. “I wonder if he has a brother.”

  Laughter that felt suspi
ciously like hysteria exploded out of Dru’s throat. “I don’t know. I’ll be sure to ask.”

  Amusement was the farthest thing from her mind, though, after Char had left and she waited for J.D. to return. The sport-shop employee who’d put her on hold came back on the line to ask for a clarification on the information she’d requested, and Dru brought the phone receiver back up to her lips again.

  “Yes. Size large on the shirt and I’m guessing a thirty-four waist on the shorts. You do? Great. Thanks, Joe. I’ll be right over to pick them up.” She reseated the receiver and rose to her feet. How on earth had her nice, organized life grown so chaotic so fast? She felt as if everything were spinning out of control.

  After letting the front desk know where she could be found, she stepped into the sport shop. It rented equipment and sold trail passes, ski clothing, and related accessories during the ski season, then rented boats and sold summer sportswear, including the lodge logowear, in the summer.

  Joe was discussing a reservation for a water-ski party with two guests when she entered, so she straightened a stack of T-shirts and neatened the sunglasses rack while she waited. When she turned back from inspecting the display window, he caught her eye and pointed to the folded shorts and shirt that sat at the end of the counter. She walked over to pick them up, initialed the slip that he slid over to her without interrupting his conversation with the guests, and headed for the door.

  She nearly ran smack into J.D. For some reason it irritated her to see him pull back from the imminent contact as briskly as she did.

  “Sally said I’d find you over here.”

  “Yes. I was getting you this.” She thrust out the garments. His hand was a shock of warm, rough skin as it slid across hers to take the clothing. She cleared her throat. “You can change in the men’s rest lounge if you want.” She indicated the wide hallway across the lobby. “It’s across from the game room on the other side of the elevator. I’ll meet you at the front desk when you’re ready.”

  Five minutes later Dru saw him striding up the hall toward the lobby, and she stared. She’d seen him only in jeans and white T-shirts, and he looked almost dressed up in the crisp cargo shorts and polo shirt. The fresh-off-the-rack whiteness of the shirt made his arms and throat appear particularly bronzed, but his legs were only lightly tanned, probably from his working in jeans all the time. They were muscular and hairy, though, and she was hard-pressed to pull her gaze away.