Chasing Marisol (Blueprint to Love Book 3) (11 page)

Oh God— Hector must have told Jeff he liked him. Or loved him. It had to be something big to scare him off this quickly.

"One of his friends— a boy at the shelter— he said the boy's father was beating them." His grip on her hand tightened convulsively. "I didn't know what to do. Hector started crying— he said he'd overheard you and Sharon." Jeff finally glanced at her. "He's terrified he'll lose his friend if you move them to another shelter."

Understanding crashed over her, leaving her stunned and nearly drowning with relief.
He was concerned for Hector
. Marisol nearly trembled with the realization that she'd been entirely wrong. Lord— what was wrong with her? Why couldn't she trust anyone? She'd completely jumped to conclusions over his motives— and she hadn't been close.

All this time, Mari had been feeling sorry for herself— and her little boy was suffering. She was being selfish— and ridiculous. Despite her desire to remain cool and unflappable— she simply couldn't maintain her composure when it came to Hector hurting.

Her throat filled with tears. "I know— he's w-worried. He's talking about the dad who came by two nights ago." Annie's ex-husband.

Jeff halved the distance between them and pulled her closer. Clearly he'd heard the impending meltdown in her voice. "The guy you tangled with? The one who threatened you?"

She nodded. "It was unusual for Hector to witness something like that. I hate that he's worried for his friends." Feeling him tense next to her, Mari glanced away, upset that Hector had overheard her conversation with Sharon. He had enough worries to deal with.

"Try not to be angry with me," Jeff asked. "I promised Hector I'd help him— help
them
. I'm so sorry, Marisol. I know I overstepped my bounds— but he was crying— and I felt . . . helpless. I've never felt that way before."

Her eyes widened. "Why would I be angry with you? I think it's sweet that you care so much. Parenting kids like Hector— who've endured so many— terrible things . . . it makes you want to protect them from everything bad. Like— they've suffered enough and you can't bear to see anyone else hurt them."

"I know this will sound naive to someone like you— but I really want to help. What can I do? How can we help this kid?"

Marisol found her first smile in several hours.
We
. He'd said 'we'. Whether Jeff liked it, they were all growing on him. Their little family at New Beginnings. When he was done building their shelter— whether he cared about her or not— Jeff would take a piece of them with him.

Damn, it would be so
easy
to love him. She was dangerously close to falling for him. Maybe she already had. Her heart thudded in a quick, painful flash of panic. She'd thought she loved Nick, too. She pushed the terrifying thought from her mind, unwilling to even contemplate the possibility of another disaster. There would be time later to lie awake wondering how she'd let it happen.

She forced her mind back to their conversation. "We're trying not to move them again. Frankly— there's nowhere for them to go. The other shelters are full."

"Are they safe? Can you get a restraining order?"

"We take precautions. But a restraining order is only effective if the abuser honors it."

Jeff had begun massaging the knot between her shoulder blades— as though he'd figured out where she carried all her stress. Biting back a sigh, she allowed herself to enjoy the languid feeling for a moment longer. But his long, amazing fingers paused. "My sister Andrea's husband is a state trooper. What if I get him to come by and talk with the staff about extra safety measures?" 

She mulled over his suggestion, flattered that he cared enough to offer his assistance. They'd all had training in safety precautions, managing potentially violent situations . . . but Jeff's offer was so kind, Mari hated to shoot down his idea when he was being so thoughtful about trying to protect them all. And they could always use a refresher course. "I think that's a wonderful idea— if you're sure it wouldn't be any trouble."

"I'll call Charlie tomorrow. When is the best time to get your staff together for training?" His fingers paused their magical massage and she nearly groaned.

"Between meals— probably after lunch. That's when we have the most staffers on site."

His eyes lit with satisfaction. She'd forgotten that sensation— of feeling able to help. It was easy to feel helpless in trying to solve the overwhelming problems faced by the homeless, the hungry. All a person could really do was try to make a difference. Jeff would feel good about his actions— and perhaps would replicate them when given the opportunity to help later. "How're your donations looking? Did you finish off the building campaign?"

She frowned. "Not great. I've got a few stragglers who haven't honored their commitments. I have to track them down. And I'm meeting with another promising group tomorrow. If we can secure funding from them, I'll have enough to get Specialty through nearly to the end." She glanced at him, a sudden smile on her lips. "Are you worried about getting paid?"

His eyes warmed as he leaned in to whisper. "I know where you live."  

"So, this is all part of your strategy?" Jeff’s eyes had the most amazing flecks of gold in the iris. It was sinful, really. That he could be so impossibly attractive without even trying.

"You're on to me," he confessed. "I'm wooing you so when I hit you with a giant change-order you won't be able to resist. I plan to ensnare you with my charm. You'll be so captivated that when the price doubles, you'll just smile and write a bigger check."

"Is that how it works?" Marisol was having trouble keeping up with the thread of their conversation. The closer his lips moved to hers, the faster her heart began beating, and the louder the rush in her ears grew. "And here I thought if I seduced you— I might get you to throw in the fancy tile in the girls' communal bathroom." 

His lips were smiling against hers when they met. The first contact was a tentative brush over her mouth— not so much testing, as it was teasing. Because they both knew exactly how explosive it would be. She shuddered anyway. The merest touch from him made her pulse race crazily. The second kiss was almost painful in its sweetness. Jeff leaned in, his hands still not touching her, his mouth covering hers in a leisurely, sensual way that left her nearly bereft when he drew back. His steady gaze locked with hers for several moments, neither of them speaking. She wondered fleetingly what thoughts were racing through his head before he leaned in again, this time cupping her face in his hands. When he covered her lips this time, it was in an explosion of heat, of desire, of a fierce aching need that made her want to climb into his skin.

When they finally broke apart, it was with painful reluctance. Marisol had never,
ever
not wanted Hector in her life. But for a fleeting moment of insanity, she wished with all her might that she could stumble into the house with Jeff, kissing and caressing him all the way up the stairs to her bedroom. Hell— if Hector wasn't home, they wouldn't even
make
it
to the stairs. She'd strip him in the hallway and take him on the kitchen floor.

Jeff leaned back on his hands, his breathing ragged. "Mari, honey— you're killing me." He turned to her in the growing darkness. "I can't seem to keep my hands off you."

"Me too."

"I want you so much. Hell— the only thing saving you right now is that I can't quite see your eyes. Because if you're looking at me like you were this afternoon-"

"Worse than this afternoon," she confirmed, smiling when he groaned. "And we have Hector," she reminded softly.

Startled, he glanced at his cell phone. "Damn— we've been out here fifteen minutes. I should probably go."

Reluctantly, they rose to their feet. Mari's blood was still singing with unspent passion as she embraced him. Which lead to another round of frantic kissing that left her hormones screeching with frustration. It was then she decided to throw her normal, cautious, conservative outlook to the wind. As Jeff took his first reluctant step down the porch steps, she blurted out an invitation. "How about dinner tomorrow night? We could grill out back?"

He hesitated only a moment. "That would be great. Can I bring anything? Maybe something Hector likes?"

She enjoyed the heat in his tortured eyes— heat meant solely for her. In spite of the edgy need wrapped around them, Jeff still managed to think first of her little boy. Her heart stuttered and softened another notch. He was making it nearly impossible not to love him. Even frustrated, he looked amazing, beautiful. "Why don't you bring wine instead?"

That got his attention. "Are you sure?"

The anticipation was almost too much to bear. Unable to wait a moment longer for his reaction, Mari smiled. "Hector has a birthday party tomorrow night."

Jeff froze mid-step. "H-how long do we have?"

Enjoying the way his voice had gone raspy in seconds, she took a step closer. Her smile was one of smug satisfaction. Take that— beautiful, unattached women. This single mom was still capable of doing something crazy. "Did I forget to mention this is a
sleepover
party?"

"Mari-"

She would remember forever the way he released her name on a raw groan, the rough silk of his voice cutting through the darkness. Anticipation hung in the air, clouded in the heady scent of jasmine— of what might prove to be the most amazing night of her life. "He's spending the night at his friend's house. I'm dropping him off at five."     

Jeff recovered long enough to flash his patented smile. "I'll be here at five-thirty."

***

Flicking a glance at his watch, Jeff sighed. Ten hours, forty-five minutes to go. Blinking the exhaustion from his eyes, he attempted to focus. It was a very good thing he'd be slugging back coffee with Gigantor in a few minutes. After lying awake half the night, he was in serious need of a caffeine boost. And he had Marisol Ortega to thank for that.

Hell— he'd dreamed of getting her naked from practically the first moment he'd seen her.
Tonight
it would finally happen. But how the hell had she expected him to sleep after receiving news like that? When the alarm chirped that morning, his bed had looked like a warzone. The sheets had been thrashed from the mattress and his pillow had been punched so many times during the night it looked as though it required first aid. He'd lain awake all night— thinking of Mari, dreaming of her. Imagining the gorgeous curves he would discover when he stripped her out of those clothes and finally got his hands on her. Checking his watch again, he pulled into a parking space near the shelter. Ten hours, forty-
two
minutes.

Damm— this would be the longest day of his life.

A few minutes later, caffeine trickling into his system, he started feeling human as he sat through Big Pete's situation report. In Pete-speak, it was a sit-rep. No matter how quiet the site appeared to be when Jeff left for the evening, Pete would produce a list of potential 'issues' that somehow accumulated overnight. For the past two days, it was his insistence that New Beginnings was quite possibly under siege. Their commando-in-chief was adamant they were being 'staked out' by a man in a big, red truck. His eyes held a faraway look Jeff had learned to respect, if only because he knew Pete would eventually get around to telling him what he wanted to know. As long as it was according to his timetable.

"Okay, I'll ask Hank to look into that truck for you. It's probably nothing to worry about, but I appreciate you being so observant." It was hard to remain sluggish around Big Pete. The Iraq war vet was nearly always on high alert. Jeff downed the rest of his coffee, patiently awaiting his opportunity to steer the conversation back to what he
really
wanted to know— the disturbance earlier in the week.

When his friend's eyes lost their cloudy sheen, he knew it was time. "Now that Hector's not around, why don't you tell me what happened Tuesday night."

Pete's eyes scrunched as he mentally switched gears. The pencil in his gigantic fist stopped scratching notes in his log book. "I was still here which was unusual— but I like when they serve meatloaf for supper. So— sometimes I stay late."

"How was it?"

"The meatloaf?" When he nodded, Pete's mouth lifted in a smile. "It was damn good."

"Did the ex-husband show up before or after dinner?"

"Before." When he scowled it reminded Jeff how fortunate they were that Pete was on their side. The giant would be a formidable opponent for anyone unlucky enough to cross him. "Yeah— Miss Ortega was leavin' with Hector. I saw them, so I got out of line . . . so I could hold the door for her. She had a bunch 'a files and her briefcase and she was tryin' to hold Hector's hand but he wasn't listening to her." He picked up his to-go cup and took a long pull. "Coffee's still hot. That's nice."

Jeff resisted the urge to nudge him along. Whatever demons the poor guy continued to wrestle with since his return, Pete had learned he could keep them at bay with orderly, methodical conduct. Consequently, the vet's helpfulness had to be achieved on his terms.

"So I'm walkin' over to the door to help Miss Ortega when this guy bursts through the side door— right next to her." Pete's gaze left the ragged list on the table and focused on the door, as though seeing the incident replay in his head. "Miss Ortega musta recognized him cuz she shoves Hector behind her and tells him to go to the kitchen."