The Pursuit of Jesse (4 page)

Predictably, the blonde slid off her bar stool and walked toward him. Garrett be damned, right along with his order for Jesse to steer clear of the single women on this island. As long as Jesse was stuck here on Mirabelle, he might as well have some fun. She wasn’t really his type, but there was no wedding ring in sight and she’d certainly help in passing the time.

“Well, hello, stranger,” she said. “I may have just moved to Mirabelle last spring, but I’m sure I’ve never seen hide nor hair of you on this island before.”

“Hello, yourself. I’m Jesse.”

“Sherri Phillips.”

“Did you say Sugar? Sugar Phillips? ’Cause you sure look sweet.”

“Sherri, silly.” She laughed and moved a little closer. “I own a hair salon a couple doors down, and I can’t wait to get my hands on your…head.”

“You can get your hands on any part of me anytime you want,” he said softly.

“That’s what I like to hear.” She slid her hands along his arms. “Just so you know, though, strings don’t stay on this little package. Understand?”

“Perfectly.”

This was more like it. Finally, after four long years, Jesse was back in his comfort zone.

H
ER ELBOWS RESTING
on the counter and her head in her hands, Sarah sat in her tiny apartment kitchen late that night with her laptop in front of her. She’d waited until Brian was sound asleep before logging on to the internet, and although she’d been at it for almost an hour searching for information, she’d had absolutely no luck.

Naturally, she’d located several people with the name Jesse Taylor, including a teacher at a martial-arts studio, a couple of teenagers with social-networking pages, a doctor at a medical clinic in Cincinnati and the president of a seafood company in Alabama. None of the individuals listed were of the same approximate age as Garrett’s brother, and she could find no record of a Jesse Taylor ever having lived in the Chicago area. It was as if Garrett’s brother didn’t exist.

On top of that, she couldn’t find a single mention of a legal issue or newspaper report involving a Jesse Taylor. Four years, though, was a fairly long prison term. Whatever he’d done, it’d been serious.

She searched for the types of crimes leading to four-year terms and discovered any number of infractions he could’ve committed. He could’ve been convicted of a robbery or rape. Maybe he’d been dealing cocaine, or gotten busted for operating a meth lab. It was possible he’d embezzled tens of thousands of dollars from little old ladies. Some of the crimes were violent, others were not.

She conjured the image of Jesse’s face in her mind. That smile. Those eyes. His hand had felt so warm, his touch so engaging. It was difficult to imagine that
someone as fun-loving as he appeared could’ve done anything to deserve prison time, let alone something violent. Not knowing what crime Jesse Taylor had committed worried her. Finding herself even remotely attracted to him in spite of it worried her much, much more.

T
HE SOUND
of heavy rock music blaring from a radio in the kitchen, Jesse ignored the two boys standing in the corner of one of the bedrooms in Sarah’s house watching him work. Every day since he’d arrived on Mirabelle more than a week ago, they’d come here wanting to help and every day Jesse had done his best to ignore them. Today, although Zach was clearly interested in the ins and outs of ripping out old carpet, he rifled through the tools in the toolbox lying on the floor. Brian, on the other hand, watched Jesse’s every move.

“Don’t you boys have anything better to do than stand there staring at me day in and day out?” The presence of an audience was a bit disconcerting as far as Jesse was concerned, but at least they were kids. He didn’t feel the need to make nice with a couple of nine-year-olds.

Zach glanced hopefully at Brian. “We could go up to the community center and shoot some hoops.”

This small island had a community center? Jesse might have to check that out.

“I’m sick of basketball,” Brian muttered.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“I’m so ready for baseball to start I can taste the hot dogs,” Brian said. “You ever play any ball, Jesse?”

Hell, yes.
There was a time the Taylor boys had dominated the game of baseball in their Chicago neigh
borhood. With Garrett pitching, Chris on first, Drew catching and Jesse at shortstop, it got to be no one within a couple-mile radius would play ball with the Taylors unless they split two and two between teams.

He almost smiled as the memories flooded his senses. The hot sun on the back of his neck. The dusty, dirt fields. The smell and feel of an oiled leather glove. Back then the worst things he’d had to worry about were skinned knees and how bad of a mood their dad would be in when he got home from work.

“Yeah, I played baseball when I was a kid,” Jesse blurted out before remembering he shouldn’t be engaging these boys. The last thing he needed was for the two of them to think he
wanted
them hanging around here.

“Zach pitches and I play shortstop,” Brian said. “What position did you play?”

“You boys need to move.” Jesse yanked up the last corner of the carpet and started rolling it. “You’re in the way. You don’t want to play b-ball, fine. Figure something else out. Anything not here is better than nothing.”

“We wouldn’t be doing nothing if you let us help,” Brian said, raising his eyebrows.

“And what if you get hurt? Or screw something up?”

Zach’s shoulders slumped as if Jesse had hit a nerve, and a pang of guilt niggled at his conscience. That kid had had a tough enough start to life. Jesse sure didn’t need to make things worse.

“We’re not stupid,” Brian said, undaunted. “We know how to do things.”

“Yeah,” Zach added. “Even Garrett lets us help with stuff sometimes.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not Garrett.” Jesse crossed his arms. “So hit the roa—”

“You lift weights, don’t you?” Brian asked, his attention instantly redirected to the bulk of Jesse’s chest.

Jesse kept his mouth shut. The answer to that question would go over like a lead balloon. Other than work out what the hell else was there to do in prison? Except for read. In fact, he’d read so much he’d managed to get a two-year community-college degree through online courses. At least one good thing had come from his incarceration.

He considered telling the boys about his stint in prison. Better they get the truth from him rather than rumors and lies from someone else, as Garrett had said. What explanation could he give that wouldn’t make the boys think less of him? The fact that he cared the slightest bit about what they thought of him was an entirely different matter.

“We have free weights at our house,” Zach added. “But Garrett won’t let me lift the heavy stuff yet. Says my bones aren’t ready.”

As far as Jesse was concerned, weight rooms were things from his past. He’d quite happily get his workouts through physical labor from here on out. Wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of a gloved hand, he rolled up the rest of the dirty green shag and hoisted it up and over his left shoulder. His biceps screamed, his quads burned, he was dirty as a bum and he’d never felt better. He was a free man with a job and a place to stay. Life was about as good as it was going to get. At least until he got off this frozen rock of an island and moved as far south as he could.

Moving south. That thought more than anything suddenly improved his mood. A nice balmy breeze, sand
between his toes. Girls in bikinis, golden skin slathered in oil.
Mmm, mmm, mmm.
How long had it been since he’d kissed a woman? Smelled a woman’s hair? Felt soft, warm feminine skin under his fingertips? And he wasn’t talking about anything like what had happened last week in the bathroom of the Rusty Nail between him and Sherri. That had amounted to nothing more than soothing a physical need. No, what he had in mind was something softer, more tender. He flashed on the way Sarah’s hand had felt in his, and the heavy carpet wobbled, nearly toppling him over.

Steady, man.
Rebalancing the roll over his left shoulder, he slowly made his way out of the bedroom and down the hall.

“I’ll get the front door!” Brian said, running down the hall.

The kid seemed so hungry for male attention, but for the first time since they’d shown up almost an hour ago, Jesse was glad they were around. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder about the kid’s father. Garrett had said Sarah was single, but did her ex live on the island? If not, where was he?

Jesse carefully angled the length of carpet through the front door and across the porch before flipping the roll into the Dumpster Garrett had delivered Jesse’s first morning on the island. When he turned, he noticed Brian’s mom, her shoulders squared and her head held high, walking across the snow-covered yard.

Poised. That was the first word that came into his mind the moment he saw Sarah. Hot on its tail were three more.
Curvy, confident
and
sexy in a very serious way. Okay, a few more than three.
A blast of cold winter air hit him in the face, cooling his skin, but it
wasn’t enough to cool the thoughts running through his head.

No woman should look that good in a turtleneck, serviceable down jacket and, of all things, mukluks. With her long black hair falling in loose curls past her shoulders, her lips painted a dusky red and her dark eyebrows arched inquisitively, she was the best thing he’d seen in a damned long time. Except that she wasn’t his type. Not by a long shot.

From the classy dress pants to the perfect makeup, Sarah had
good girl
written all over her. Sherri Phillips, on the other hand, while not perfect, was more his style. Hearty, gutsy laugh. Easy way. Sweet. Fun. Uncomplicated. What more could a man want?

He took a deep breath and put on his game face. That’s when he noticed Sarah was carrying something bulky in her arms. “Afternoon, Sarah. Need some help with whatever you got there?”

“Hello, and no, thank you.” Despite her half smile, she didn’t look very pleased.

Most people probably figured her for the calm, serene sort, but the intensity of her pale blue eyes blew that image to hell and back as far as Jesse was concerned.

She came up the porch steps and, virtually ignoring Jesse, zeroed in on her son. “Brian, have you been coming here every day after school?”

The kid looked at Jesse, quickly calculated whether or not Jesse would back up a lie and just as quickly came to the conclusion he was on his own. Stubbornly, he straightened his shoulders. “Yeah. So?”

“We talked about this.” She stomped her boots, dislodging the snow, and then stepped inside the house, carefully unrolling an indoor-outdoor-type carpet runner in the foyer area as she went. “You’re supposed
to come home after school and get your homework done.”

“I can do it after supper.”

“You’re supposed to come home to check in with me, then do homework and then play, right?”

Brian crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not a baby, Mom. I should be able to decide when I want to do my homework.”

“That’s not our deal,” she said. “Go on home now.”

“But—”

“No buts. It’s almost time for dinner. We’ll talk about this later.”

As Sarah talked with her son it was impossible to not study her. Manicured hands with deep red nail polish. Makeup so perfect he wondered if she used a magnifying glass in the application process. Not a hair out of place in those relaxed curls hanging past her shoulders. What struck him the most was the fact that she was doing her damnedest to send Jesse the message that she wasn’t interested in him as a man.

“Can Zach eat over?” Brian asked.

“Sure, but he needs to call home and make sure it’s all right with either Garrett or Erica.” She put her hands on Brian’s shoulders and pointed him toward the door. “Now go.”

Poised
and
classy. She probably couldn’t pound in a nail to save her soul.
Not your type
. Those hands had probably never seen the likes of dirt let alone a dish, so why was it he wouldn’t have minded seeing her with a hammer in her hand? A tool belt hanging around that slim waist. And nothing else. Naked as the day she was born.

Mmm, mmm, mmm. Wouldn’t that be a sight for sore eyes?

“Bye, Jesse!”

The sound of his name snapped his thoughts back to the present. “Huh? Oh. Bye, boys.”

Zach and Brian both shrugged on their coats and ran out the door, calling in unison over their shoulders, “See you tomorrow.”

“No, you won’t. Homework, remember?” She turned toward him. “I hope they haven’t been getting in your way.”

“Naw.” He shook his head. “They’re nice kids.”

“Yes, they are. Mirabelle’s a nice quiet island. A lot of good people here.”

He didn’t miss the edge in her voice, but if there was one thing he’d learned in the past four years it was to not go looking for a fight. If he could avoid it, anyway.

“I’ll make sure they don’t come up here anymore,” she said. “So they won’t get in your way.”

Fine by him.

She glanced from his shirt to his hair. “Looks like you’ve been busy today.”

He brushed self-consciously at the layer of dirt and dust covering his long-sleeved black T-shirt. “Yeah, well, best to have everything out of here before all the supplies you and Garrett ordered are delivered. So I’ve basically been gutting the place.”

“Good idea.” She slipped off her boots, walked into the kitchen and turned off the radio.

“Sorry,” he said. “It’s been pretty quiet around here. I found that in the basement. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Not a problem.” Slowly, she walked through the
house, glancing around, seeming to take note of his progress.

He struggled for something to say. Put him in a bar with someone like Sherri and he could talk up a blue streak, but this woman made him uneasy. He might be drawn to her, but he was uneasy all the same.

“So…Garrett said you needed to be all moved in here by the end of May. Before your busy season starts,” he said, hoping to start the ball rolling. “Wedding planner, huh?”

She nodded. “I do a fair amount of business through my flower shop, as well.”

While it was crystal-clear she wasn’t interested in casual conversation, she wasn’t as immune to him as a man as she wanted him to think. Her gaze would drop to his lips or linger on his arms and chest. He ran his hand along the back of his neck, feeling more edgy with every passing moment. Best to follow her lead and stick to business.

“Things don’t seem to be moving very quickly,” she said. “I was hoping the carpet would be in by now.”

If he’d had feathers, they’d have been ruffled, especially after the week he’d had. Starting work on Sarah’s house well before sunrise and working until past dinnertime, he’d put in close to sixty hours. But then that had been entirely his choice.

After the first morning of waking up in Garrett’s house to the sounds of everyone else up and about, he’d sworn he’d never do that again. Just listening to the warm coziness of the Taylor family routine through his closed bedroom door—the smell of fresh coffee, the sounds of happy, rested kids, cereal bowls clinking and cartoons on TV—had been enough to make his skin crawl.

From then on he’d gotten up and headed off to work before anyone else had even stirred. To make sure he’d avoid Garrett’s family as much as possible, he’d been bringing a bag lunch and eating by himself at Sarah’s house. Then it was off to one of the bars downtown for a bite to eat for supper. By the time he’d been getting home, the Taylor house had settled in for the night and he’d been able to sneak back to the guest bedroom without disturbing Garrett, Erica or their kids.

Even with all those hours, Sarah’s house was a big job for one man. “Well, for one thing,” he said, trying not to sound defensive, “new carpet will likely be the last thing you’ll want to do in the house. Wouldn’t want it getting dirty, would you?”

“Good point.”

“The first thing that had to be done was to fix your leaky roof, remember?”

“Oh, right.”

“It was quite a job.” Icy wind whipping up his back, hands freezing even in the thick leather gloves Garrett had lent him, Jesse had been on a ladder shoveling snow off a large chunk of the roof that’d apparently been damaged by high winds last fall. The entire roof would need to be replaced come spring, but for the time being he’d had to patch things up to protect the interior.

There was no point in elaborating with the fact that he’d twice nearly slipped off the icy rungs of the ladder, not to mention the roof itself. Or that he’d capped her chimney and patched up a hole in one of her basement windows, ensuring there’d be no more critters nesting in her house. She would’ve had to be here to appreciate the fact that the time he’d spent outside had been miserable. “That alone took me an entire day.”

“I suppose.”

After that, he’d cleaned out all the junk the previous owner had left in the basement, taking advantage of the Dumpster while it was available. Then he’d taken out the old toilet, sink and countertop in the main bathroom. Today, he’d pulled up all the ratty carpet.