Caught Up in the Touch (4 page)
Jessica ran a finger under her eye. It came away smudged black. “I think it might be a trick of the humidity and being stuck in a car with nonworking AC.”
“Don’t her eyes look amazing?” Lilliana punched Mountain Man in the shoulder.
Jessica looked over and held her breath. During their brief time together, Jessica had pegged him for a good old boy. A grin wasn’t a signal of anything more complicated than simple happiness, but he didn’t grin and toss off an answering compliment. His brown eyes didn’t spark but hammered at her, searching for something. The sudden shift tossed her off-balance, and she dropped her gaze to their feet.
“Pretty surprising,” he finally said cryptically.
“O-kay,” Lilliana drawled as she waved a hand in Mountain Man’s direction. “Make yourself useful and get Jessica’s bags. Come on in, and I’ll show you around.”
The cool blast of air soothed Jessica’s frayed nerves. Everything seemed easier when your body wasn’t about to spontaneously combust. Three pairs of shoes were jumbled under a white bench by the door. Jessica plopped down and kicked off her stilettos, setting them side by side with OCD-like precision. She stuck her legs out and wiggled her toes.
“Those are some impressive shoes. I never mastered an elegant walk in heels. Which is a shame, ’cause I could use a couple of extra inches.” Lilliana waited in the doorway. “Come on up. Your room is the first one on the hall. It has a private attached bathroom. How tall are you anyway?”
“About five-nine.” Her three-inch heels put her exactly an inch taller than her father. She always bought three-inch heels.
A curved staircase rose from the middle of a large atrium and split, leading off into two wings. Jessica skimmed a hand up the oak banister, worn smooth by generations of hands. “How old is the house?”
“It was built in the 1810s by my many-greats-grandfather Zacharia Hancock. One wing burned in 1892 and was rebuilt. The staircase is from the original though. A Hancock has always lived here.” Pride, worry, and wistfulness entwined the words.
At the top of the stairs, paint cans were stacked next to a chaise tucked into an alcove. Velvet upholstery worn shiny in places peeked out from under a haphazardly thrown drop cloth. Hancock House was far from being ready for guests.
Lilliana opened the first door in the right wing of the house and gestured Jessica inside. Jessica poked her head around the door frame, worried about what awaited, but the blue-washed walls and white bedding over an old-fashioned canopied bed had an old-time charm.
Jessica’s bare feet landed on a plush, antique rug, the swirling colors a perfect complement to the wide-planked dark-wood floors. This had any hotel beat. “It’s beautiful.”
“It is rather swanky, isn’t it?” Lilliana clasped her hands under her chin, accenting a pleased smile.
A door to her left was cracked open. The bathroom? Jessica couldn’t wait to see it. In two steps, she’d pushed the door open. “Dear Lord!”
Again, Jessica took another leap through time. This time to the 1950s. A color-blind person—or maybe just plain blind—had painted everything in the tiny bathroom hot pink to match the florid tile.
Lilliana’s sigh brushed over her upper arm. “I should have warned you. The bathroom is next on my list to remodel.”
Jessica’s mouth opened and closed a few times before locating a distant compliment. “It’s got its own kind of charm.”
A throaty laugh burst from Lilliana. “You must have been sent to some sort of finishing school. I can recognize another woman schooled in Southern politesse from a hundred yards.”
“I spent time in an all-girls boarding school up north, actually.” Jessica fiddled with her sunglasses.
“No boys? That must have been rough. I spent my summers in Falcon being brainwashed by the most ancient of my female relatives. Naturally, I rebelled and became a pot-smoking bohemian artist, but their lessons do come in handy on occasion.”
Jessica muffled a laugh with her hand, not sure if Lilliana was joking.
She continued. “Speaking of acting ladylike, I suppose I owe the dipwad an apology.” Lilliana’s lips pursed and drew to the side, signaling her displeasure at the thought. Mountain Man backed into the room with Jessica’s suitcases and a bag of shoes. Lilliana said in a distinctly unapologetic tone, “Sorry I pegged you with a magnolia pod.”
“You’ve done worse. Darlin’, can I use your phone? I need to call Jeb to tow Ms. Montgomery’s car.” The ease of their conversation spoke of a long relationship, and Jessica wasn’t sure what to make of the casual endearment.
“Sure thing. You lose yours again?” Lilliana pulled a phone from her back pocket.
“Some monster catfish is probably using up all my minutes.” He took it and retreated to the hallway.
Jessica tuned in to his low, rumbling voice and barely heard Lilliana explain where everything was. When Mountain Man returned the phone, he let his gaze rove all over the room before landing on her. She hadn’t realized how much she anticipated the heat of his regard until it hit her, but something about him had changed. The humor bubbling from under his good-natured manners had vanished.
“You going to be okay?” His hat shadowed his eyes, but something about his tone combined with his frown made her straighten and take on the demeanor of a boardroom adversary.
The fact he’d thought her anywhere close to helpless burned. Although, without a working phone or car, and with the panic she worked hard to keep at bay breaking through weak cracks in her façade, she’d been dangerously close. At least she’d felt that way until he’d sauntered up like a dang cowboy.
“Of course. I’m perfectly fine,” she said in a tart voice, smoothing down her hair and looking up at him. The flatironed mass had surrendered to the humidity and reverted to the natural slight wave she stamped out of existence on a daily basis. Why had she taken her heels off? Mountain Man was entirely too tall.
“You heading back to Adaline’s tonight?” He dropped his face and scuffed one of his work boots along the fringe of the rug.
“As long as your buddy delivers me the promised loaner.”
“It’s on its way.” He took a step backward, toward the door.
This was it. He was going to walk away, and she’d most likely never see him again. She stepped forward and offered her hand. “Thanks.”
He hesitated before engulfing it with his. They didn’t actually shake, but stood for an abnormally long time, seemingly holding hands. Under his brim, his face flashed an unexpectedly complicated set of emotions.
Her simple thanks seemed weak. The man had gone out of his way to help her. He drove a beat-up pickup truck and wore ragged jeans. Her father’s answer to everything was to offer money. She should write him a check for his trouble. Instead, with nerves kicking in, she said, “If you didn’t have anything else going on … you could stop by Adaline’s later and I’d … buy you a drink for helping me out of a tough spot. If you wanted.”
Lilliana’s head swiveled back and forth between them like she was watching a tennis match, her face blank. What if he and Lilliana were an item? Would the woman think Jessica was poaching? She wasn’t poaching. She didn’t want to poach this man. Did she?
“I’ll most definitely be there, Ms. Montgomery.” He squeezed her hand before letting go, touched the brim of his hat with a forefinger, and retreated. Jessica stayed planted until the clomp of his boots faded into the rumble of his truck, her hand still slightly outstretched.
“Excuse me while I cut through the sexual tension to the door. I’m sure you’d like to clean up for tonight.” Lilliana’s voice vibrated, plucked by strong emotion. Hurt? Anger? Sadness?
Jessica’s tongue worked clumsily. “Nothing happened, I mean, nothing is going on. It’s not what you think. We met a couple of hours ago. If you and he—”
“Dang, slow down, home-girl.” Lilliana’s trembling voice broke into laughter. “Logan and I are not together, if that’s what you’re worried about. Honestly, I’m pretty sure he still has cooties. But, hey, if that doesn’t bother you…” She shrugged.
Logan.
The name razored away the crazy attraction, leaving a blistering wound that oozed humiliation. “That was Logan Wilde? Mountain Man is Logan Wilde?”
“You called him Mountain Man?” Lilliana giggled.
Jessica chuffed. “In my head.”
The humor melted out of Lilliana’s face. “You seriously didn’t know his name?”
Jessica grabbed one of the posters of the bed, staring down at the green and blue swirls while she systematically reviewed their encounter. “No. Neither of us introduced ourselves, actually.”
Which meant he’d only known her name when she introduced herself to Lilliana. That’s when everything about him had tensed and darkened. Of course, he’d be at Adaline’s tonight. Not because he wanted to have a drink with her, but because he freaking owned the place. She dug her fingernails into the old, soft wood.
“How do you know his name but not him?” Lilliana asked.
“I’m here to offer him a job.” She sank onto the edge of the soft mattress.
“But, he has a job.”
“A better job. Or at least, one that pays better,” she said vaguely.
Part of Jessica wanted to crawl under the covers and forget about her task, at least for the night. But, the cutthroat part trained by her father wondered if she could somehow spin this to her advantage.
The one thing she couldn’t do was barge into Adaline’s and unleash.
Calm, professional, in control.
The mantra she’d gained from years of therapy scrolled through her head. Her chest loosened, her lungs expanded, the deep breaths inducing an almost meditative state. She would show no anger or exasperation in front of Logan Wilde. He would get the Jessica Montgomery who was icy and tough.
The beep of a vehicle backing up cut through the silence.
Lilliana said, “That’d be Jeb. Why don’t you shower and get yourself together while I handle your car.”
Jessica wanted to smile and thank her, but she couldn’t. Not now. Later, maybe. Right now, she had to concentrate on burying the urge to punch Logan Wilde right on his knee-weakening, sexy grin.
The clock was broken. That was the only way to explain why the last ten minutes felt like an hour. Almost seven. Logan ran a hand up his clean-shaved cheek and into his freshly-trimmed hair. Jessica fucking Montgomery. A chef friend in Birmingham who had worked for Montgomery Industries for a couple of years had labeled the Montgomery daughter a cold, ambitious barracuda.
A quick Google search once he’d gotten home had yielded surprising facts. Top of her class at Wharton. Rising star at Montgomery Industries. Probably because her daddy owned it, but she was featured in several news articles in the
Richmond Times
business section. What did it mean that the big honcho had sent his daughter to offer him the job?
He had stepped smack-dab in the middle of a serious pile of shit. Unless Lilliana assumed Jessica already knew his name and hadn’t said anything. Doubtful. He should have told her two minutes after they’d met. Why hadn’t he?
Her legs. It had something to do with the gorgeous distraction of her legs. My God, he’d ripped off five times as many duct tape strips as he’d needed so he could stare at her legs from under the car. The angle had given him an extra couple of inches up her skirt. So not only was he an asshole for not telling her who he was, he was depraved to boot.
No, she possessed more than a pair of stellar legs. Under the Natasha-like fierceness, he’d sensed softness, vulnerability, and an attractive streak of humor. Confronted with a woman in need, his Southern-gentleman soul flared to life. Of course, the fact that she was beautiful hadn’t escaped his notice either.
He paced up and down the inside of the bar a few times, wiping up spills and condensation, a smile plastered to his face as he nodded like a bobblehead at customers. He glanced at the clock again. Five ’til. She would be walking through the door any minute. How should he play this? Casual charm was his strength, but he’d demolished that bridge with no way back over the barracuda-infested water.
The door swung open, and Jessica Montgomery strode through. Any hint of wave in her auburn hair was gone. A crisp white button-down was tucked into an apple-red pencil skirt, the color emphasizing her fair skin and the glinting highlights in her hair.
Yep, she was pissed. Her glare swept over the room like a warrior-queen looking for a human sacrifice. Several men turned to examine her but quickly went back to whatever they’d been doing. Her gaze bounced over him and moved on. Jesus, did she not recognize him after a hot shower and shave? He rubbed at his chin, wondering if he should approach her. Make the first move.
He walked to the end of the bar, drawing her attention. Her mouth dropped slightly, and she shifted on her sky-high red heels. The damn things had to be a form of torture, but holy-hell they made her legs look spectacular. He forced his eyes away from the hypnotizing lengths.
She approached, her movements stiff, no swishy swing in her hips. He pulled at the collar of his green-checked button-down, surprised at the guilt trying to claw out of his throat as a groveling apology.
She stopped several feet away from him, cocking a pointy-toed foot out and placing a hand on the dip of her waist. The exaggerated, womanly curve from breast to hip dried his mouth. Expertly applied makeup almost covered her sprinkle of freckles. Thin black pencil outlined her eyes, the sexy, smoky smudges gone. Harsh crimson painted her lips, thinner looking than the natural soft pink fullness from the afternoon.
“Mr. Wilde, you might have saved me the trouble and introduced yourself this afternoon. Is there somewhere private we can discuss the offer I’m here to make?” Ice crystallized in her voice, and her gaze froze his apology somewhere in his throat. The flashes of vulnerability and humor from the afternoon had been buried under an avalanche.
He opened his mouth but only an unintelligible grunt emerged.
“Very eloquent. I assume you keep an office in the back. This way, I presume?” She led the way, but he beat her to the swinging door.
“Allow me, ma’am.” He held the door open, and she had to brush by him to make it through the opening. Anger boiled through the ice, animating her face. The woman looked like she wanted to punch his two front teeth out.