A Word with the Bachelor (9 page)

“What about Harley?” Come to think of it she hadn't seen the little guy all afternoon.

“I think the health department frowns on animals in restaurants.”

“Smart-ass.” She shook her head. “I meant, he'll need to be fed.”

“Already done. He had a walk and is in my office. Probably sound asleep after exercise and wolfing down his dinner.”

She couldn't come up with any other excuse. “I'll go get a sweater.”

When the sun went down it was pretty dark and isolated out here by the lake. Besides the lighting down at the marina, the one on the front porch was all that cut the shadows. As they walked down the front steps together and headed for the jeep, Erin fought the feeling of intimacy the twilight created. This wasn't a date. It was her job.

She wondered if this was how Stockholm Syndrome worked. Forced confinement created feelings you wouldn't ordinarily feel for the person you were cooped up with. Yeah, that's all it was.

She climbed in to the passenger seat at the same time Jack slid behind the wheel. A shiver went through her and she wouldn't let it be about anything personal.

“It's getting cold,” she said.

He turned on the car and instantly headlights sliced into the night. “That happens in Montana when it gets to be October.”

“Halloween is just around the corner. Before you know it the holidays will be here.”

“So? It's the same as any other time of year. Except colder.”

“How can you say that? Everything is decorated. There are parties. And presents.” She sighed. “Family.”

“Yeah, that's my point.”

She could see his rugged profile in the glow of the dashboard lights. He didn't look happy. “You don't have family?”

“Didn't say that.”

“So you do have relatives.”

“Singular,” he explained. “Mom.”

Erin remembered him saying his dad had disappeared. “Where does she live? Around here? Do you see her often?”

“Don't see her. That's the way she wants it.”

“You can't be serious.”

“According to her, I was trouble from the moment I was born. Didn't sleep much, got into everything, then I turned into a teenager and the trouble I got into was the against-the-law kind.”

“You were arrested?”

He nodded. “Fell in with a bad crowd. Always looking for the next kick and got caught breaking and entering.”

“What happened?”

“I was almost eighteen and still a juvenile. Lucked out with a sympathetic judge, who figured this was my first offense and I might benefit from structure and discipline.”

“Since you joined the army, I'm guessing you took his advice.”

“No one was more surprised than me at how well the life fit. I even went the extra mile and joined the army Special Forces, Ranger Battalion.” The words were positive but there was a raw note in his voice. “The downside is we train for action, but when we're sent in bad things happen to good people. There's a price to pay.”

“Yin and yang.”

“What?” He glanced at her.

“Up and down. Ebb and flow. Good and bad. It's the balance of life.” She tried to keep her voice light, but wondered why he was suddenly telling so much about himself. “You just go with it.”

“As easy as that?” he asked.

“Didn't say it was easy. That's just the way it is and you make the best of it.”

“Doesn't anything get you down?” He started to say more, then stopped. “I mean, obviously losing your fiancé was rough. I don't mean that. But you're always so damn...perky.”

“I don't always feel that way.” Things with her fiancé weren't what she'd let Jack believe. She would always regret that her feelings changed, but there was nothing she could do to alter his terminal diagnosis. She'd put on a happy face and done her best to keep him from knowing the truth before he died. “I just make an effort to be cheerful.”

“You set a high bar.”

“It's not about being an example to anyone else. I don't judge.”

Jack didn't say anything for the rest of the drive to Blackwater Lake. He drove into town and found a parking place on the street, right in front of the Harvest Café. After exiting the car they walked inside and stopped by a glass-front bakery case. There was a sign that read, Please Wait to be Seated.

They weren't there more than a minute when Lucy Bishop approached them. The expression in her blue eyes could best be described as wary. “Welcome to the Harvest Café. Table for two?”

“Yes,” Jack said. “Nice place you have here.”

“Thank you. Right this way.”

Erin glanced at Jack, a look that said the woman's polite yet cool tone was his fault, but she wasn't sure the message had been received. They followed her to a table in the back corner, a little secluded and a lot intimate. There was a high shelf containing country knickknacks, including a copper pitcher and metal washboard. The tablecloths were shades of gold, green and rust. Coordinating cloth napkins had eating utensils wrapped up in them and were on every empty table.

“Here you are.” When they sat across from each other she handed each of them a menu. “I'll be your server tonight.”

“I thought you were the chef.” Jack's voice was disarmingly friendly. “And, by the way, something smells fantastic. I'll take one of everything.”

“I appreciate that.” Lucy smiled, revealing a dimple in her left cheek.

“Obviously I can't sample everything. So, what do you recommend?” The man had his charm set on stun. That was as close to an apology as he would go.

“I've heard from more than one person tonight that the meat loaf is particularly good. And we have carrot-ginger soup that's pretty yummy if I do say so myself. But only if your taste runs to that sort of thing.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” he said. “But I have to ask. You're the chef, so why aren't you in the kitchen?”

“I'm wearing both hats right now. My partner, Maggie, is having dinner with her fiancé.” Lucy nodded toward a young couple sitting two tables away. She was beautiful, he was handsome and they couldn't take their eyes off each other. “He's Sloan Holden. A real estate developer. In fact his company built the condo complex where I bought a place.”

“I see.” He looked over then fixed his gaze on Lucy. “There's no rush, but when she finishes dinner, would you ask her to come over? I'd like to speak to her for a moment.”

“Anything in particular?” Lucy's wariness had disappeared but she looked puzzled. “Since you haven't eaten yet, it can't be a complaint about the food. And I've been incredibly gracious so it can't be about poor customer service.”

“It's all good.” Jack smiled, but it disappeared when he glanced at Maggie. “I knew her husband.”

“I see.” Lucy's eyes widened just a little. “I'll let her know.”

Erin watched her walk over to the table where Maggie and Sloan were having an after-dinner cup of coffee. The dark-haired woman listened, then looked surprised as she glanced at Jack. She said something to the man with her, then stood and came over.

“Hi. I'm Maggie. You're Jack Garner.”

“I am.” He stood to shake her hand. “And this is Erin Riley, my research assistant.

“Nice to meet you,” Erin said.

“Same here.” Then Maggie looked at Jack. “Lucy said you knew my husband, Danny?”

“Yes, ma'am. I served with him in Afghanistan. I just wanted you to know that I'm very sorry for your loss. He was a good man.”

“Yes, he was.”

“All Danny talked about was you and his baby on the way.”

Maggie smiled a little sadly. “That sounds like him.”

“He also said that Blackwater Lake was the best place in the world. That's the reason I checked it out when I was looking for property to buy.”

“How do you like it so far?” the other woman asked.

His gaze slid to Erin for a fraction of a second before he answered, “It's growing on me.”

“If he were here, he would be the best tour guide to make sure you saw all our little town's charms.” A wistful expression slid into Maggie's eyes. “I'll always regret that our daughter will never know her father.”

Jack looked down for a moment, then met her gaze. “I would be happy, if you'd like, to share my memories of Danny with her.”

“She's two and a half.” Maggie smiled. “But it would mean so much if you could do that when she's old enough to understand.”

“It would be an honor.”

“Thank you, Jack.”

Erin was a sucker for emotional moments and this one got to her big-time. Crusty loner Jack Garner had volunteered to do a nice thing for a fallen brother's little girl. Tears gathered in her eyes and it took all she had to keep them there.

How was a girl supposed to resist him?

Where was a bag of potato chips when you really needed to eat your feelings?

Chapter Nine

S
everal days after Jack's meeting with his friend's widow, Erin was still regretting passing on that bag of chips in the grocery store. She was confused and uneasy in equal parts.

Confused because she'd been almost sure he meant
her
when he'd said the town of Blackwater Lake was growing on him. But his behavior toward her hadn't changed. If anything he'd become more distant. He was still man-caving in his office and avoiding her as much as possible.

A better book coach would be happy he was writing, and she was. Except that she hadn't seen any pages and he might be working too much. Again last night she'd heard him upstairs during the night. When she passed his room this morning on her way to the kitchen, his bedroom door was open and he was nowhere to be seen. Like the last couple of nights he'd probably slept in the room off his office, the one where he'd made love to her.

No. Not love.

It was just sex. Really good sex, but nothing more than a physical release for both of them. If she repeated that enough, the message might actually become true. She hoped so because she'd never been the type to get intimate with a man just because he was pretty to look at.

While making coffee, she heard the front door open and close, then Jack appeared in the kitchen. He filled a glass from the water dispenser on the refrigerator and started to guzzle.

When he took a breath she said, “Good morning.”

His only response was a nod. He'd been for a run already. The shorts and sneakers were a clue. But the deciding factor was his black T-shirt with bold white letters saying ARMY on the front. It was sweaty and clung to his upper body in a very intriguing way. She remembered how good it felt when they were skin-to-skin... And this was a train of thought that needed to go off the rails.

“So, you've been out for a run bright and early.”

“Yeah.” He finished the rest of the water. “Clears my head.”

“Did your head need clearing?” If so, she thought, what had to go?

“Figure of speech.”

“Oh. I just wondered. Because you were in your office during the wee hours last night.”

“Are you stalking me?” There was amusement in his eyes.

“Only if stalking is defined by hearing you pace at one in the morning.”

“Didn't mean to disturb you.”

“You didn't.” Liar, liar, pants on fire. And the disturbance had nothing to do with being awake. She'd never gone to sleep and he was the reason she couldn't. “So you were working on the book that late?”

“Yeah.” But his gaze didn't quite meet hers.

“Be careful, Jack.”

“Of work? I thought that's what you wanted.”

“Yes. In balance.”

“Inspiration and balance aren't always compatible,” he said.

“That's a fair point. But burnout isn't the goal.” And speaking of burnout, he was looking so hot she might just go up in flames. “You barricaded yourself upstairs all day, barely taking time to eat. Then you put in more time during the night. It's not healthy.”

He thought about that for a moment. “Did you mother-hen Corinne Carlisle?”

“I didn't have to. She didn't work day and night, then go running to clear her head.”

“Maybe she should.”

“She's over sixty.”

“Spring chicken. Jogging shakes things loose.”

“If you knew Corinne, you'd know that her idea of shaking things loose is a gin and tonic when happy hour rolls around.”

“High five, Corinne.” There was a gleam in his eyes when he said, “So she took care of the spirits. Your job was body and mind. How did that go?”

“Good—healthy food for the body and talking about her book kept the work fresh in her mind. Speaking of the book—”

“I'm going to take a shower.” Abruptly he turned and walked out of the room.

So much for meeting the enemy head-on. There was mischief afoot.

She thought about what he'd said and on the surface it seemed as if he was engaged. But something was off. He was vague, deflecting the questions. Wry, coy, sarcastic and mocking. Similar to the way he'd acted when she first arrived and he'd tried to intimidate her into going away. Before he'd admitted he had no book.

She was into him now and not just because she'd been hired to be. No question he wasn't an easy man, but there was more to him than that. He had a soft spot for a homely dog and came to Blackwater Lake because a fallen brother had told him it was the best place in the world. He'd offered to tell a little girl about the father she would never know.

Erin wanted to help because she'd chipped away at his hard shell and underneath it discovered there was a man she genuinely cared about. They said the way to a man's heart was through his stomach and she was going to find out whether or not that was true.

Ten minutes later Jack walked back into the kitchen and poured himself a mug of coffee. It was annoying and unfair how fast the man could clean up and look as if he'd been through hair and makeup on a movie set to get ready for his close-up. Of course, the not shaving saved time and made him look like the guy most likely to have women falling at his feet.

“What's for breakfast?” He sipped coffee and met her gaze over the rim.

She poured a beaten mixture into the heated pan on the stove. “Scrambled eggs. Sausage. Biscuits and gravy. And blueberries. I hope you're not disappointed.”

“Are you kidding?”

“I never joke about breakfast. It's the most important meal of the day.”

“Of course, it needs to be sampled first. But judging by the smell, it will beat army chow for sure.”

“If I wasn't here,” she said, sneaking a look at him while stirring the eggs, “what would you be eating?”

“Coffee. Something out of a can.”

“Seriously? That's sad.”

“But true,” he said.

“What you need is a cooking coach. So you can feed yourself when I'm gone.”

His expression didn't change but there was something smoky in his voice when he said, “Did Corinne survive on her own?”

“Yes.”

He shrugged as if to say “okay, then.” “I'm starving.”

“You're in luck.”

“Because I'm starving?” One dark eyebrow rose.

“No. Breakfast is ready.”

The table was already set and she put the food on it. Jack sat across from her and filled his plate, then wolfed down what seemed to her enough to feed an army. And it hadn't come out of a can. A girl could only hope it was appreciated.

She deliberately channeled conversation to the weather or topics equally innocuous because they were due to meet in half an hour. The questions would keep until then.

When he was finished, Jack actually thanked her for cooking, which kind of left her speechless. Then he refilled his coffee and went upstairs to his office. She did the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen while mentally preparing for the coming conflict. In the last couple of days she'd felt more like a housekeeper than anything else. She'd given him the latitude he'd asked for, but it was time to do what she'd been sent here to do.

One minute before nine o'clock she climbed the stairs and knocked on his office door, then let herself in. “Hi.”

He looked up from his computer monitor and frowned. “What are you doing here?”

“Status meeting. Remember?”

“We already had the update. Before breakfast.”

“Not even close.” She sat on a chair in front of his desk. “That was about the hours you're putting in. I'd really like to see what all that effort has produced.”

“You don't trust me?”

“With my life? Absolutely,” she said with complete conviction. Meeting his gaze she added, “But you are an expert at evasive maneuvers and I don't have faith that you'll be straightforward now.”

“I'm hurt.”

“Oh, please. This is me.” She was prepared to die on this hill and refused to be intimidated by the glare he shot at her.

“You want to see pages.”

“Give the man a gold star.” No matter how much she wanted to, she refused to look away.

Apparently he got her take-no-prisoners message because he reached down to open a desk drawer. He pulled out pages, but after glancing at them, he had an odd look on his face then quickly shoved them back. He retrieved another stack of paper from another drawer and held it up. “See? Pages.”

When he made a move to put them away she said, “Not so fast.”

“What? You see them.”

“Very funny. What are you? Fourteen? And trying to pull a fast one because you didn't do your homework? This isn't my first rodeo.”

“Do you have any idea how much I hate it that you're a teacher?”

“It's a dirty job but someone has to do it.” She sighed. “I'm on your side, Jack. I just want to read what you've got so far.”

He didn't hand over the pages, just put them on the desk in front of him. “I'm asking you to wait until the book is finished.”

“I get it, Jack. I understand that every writer has a process and this is yours. But I find myself caught in the middle. Your editor is entitled to reassurance.”

“I know. Just tell her I'm putting in so many hours you're concerned for my mental health.”

She couldn't help smiling. “Because she'll find that so encouraging?”

“Why not?” There was no surrender in this man. Bravado and bluff was how he rolled.

“She's going to want something tangible. Or at least to know that I've seen hard copy. It's not unreasonable.”

“Negative.”

Erin wasn't sure if that was a no or an assessment of the request she'd just made. “This isn't negotiable.”

“They need polishing.”

“Do we need to have the diva conversation again?” She was only half teasing. “Please, Jack. My job is on the line. It's what I was sent here to do.”

He looked at her and with every second that passed his eyes grew darker, more defiant. Just when it seemed he was going to refuse, he flipped through the stack of paper and handed it over. When she took the pages their hands brushed and she felt the touch all the way to her toes. That had never happened when she'd coached Corinne.

“Thank you.” For the pages or the thrill? She wasn't sure.

“Don't say I didn't warn you.”

It seemed she got a warning about him every day, for all the good it had done. But that wasn't what he meant. “I'm sure they're really good.”

“I hope you're not disappointed.”

He meant his work but she took it a step further. Every day that went by upped the chances that she was going to experience a deep feeling of disappointment when this assignment ended. Jack wasn't someone who would be easy to forget.

* * *

Erin couldn't get downstairs fast enough to read the pages and it left her wanting more, which was the opposite of disappointed. The chapters were really good. Mac Daniels met a mysterious woman with brown, highlighted hair and green eyes. He called her Little Miss Perky and she wasn't extraordinarily beautiful, like his ex-wife. But she was vulnerable, yet strong. A compelling combination. And she talked a lot.

She thought that sounded a lot like her, which was part of the reason she wanted more. And the writing was sharp, intense, like Jack. The good news was he had pages—strong pages. The bad news? He hadn't given her any research topics. It was possible he didn't need any information for the book or was dropping the ridiculous pretense. Either way he was working and that had been her job. Speaking of which, she needed to update his editor.

After making sure about the time in New York, Erin called the publishing house and hoped to get Cheryl's voice mail in order to minimize details. But no such luck.

“This is Cheryl.”

“Hi. It's Erin Riley.” She paced the kitchen.

“Hey. I was just thinking about you. How are you holding up?”

Interesting way of asking about her well-being. Not “how are you,” but “how are you holding up?” “I'm fine.”

“Is Jack behaving himself?”

The better question was whether or not Erin was. And the answer would be no. She'd practically seduced him. But that was one of those pesky details better kept to herself. She decided to fall back on the Jack Garner conversational method of evasive maneuvering.

“That's why I'm calling, Cheryl.”

“Oh, God, you're quitting. He's so difficult you can't take it anymore.”

He was certainly difficult, but leaving had never occurred to her. At least not before her assignment was completed. “He's a complicated man.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line. “Does that mean you're not quitting?”

“It means I wanted to let you know he's moving forward on the book.”

“That's fantastic. Have you read it?” Relief and excitement mixed together in the other woman's voice.

“I have. It's very good.”

“Great news,” Cheryl said. “I want to get it in the publishing schedule but I need an idea of time frame.”

“He's touchy.” Considering Erin had called him a diva that was extraordinarily diplomatic.

“That's not news, Erin. It's the reason you were sent there. How close to finishing is he?”

That was a very good question. It presupposed Erin was in control of the situation. That so wasn't the case. How to not lie and cover for both Jack and herself. “I believe he's seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.”

“Can you get him to commit to a completion date?”

Jack didn't seem the committing sort, but that observation was strictly personal. Her best guess was that it wasn't wise to put pressure on him just yet.

“He's clicking along and I'm reluctant to say anything that might get in the way of his progress.”

“Okay. I'll hold off on that for a little bit. Obviously you have a handle on the situation since he hasn't sent you packing.”