Trusting Jake (Blueprint To Love Book 1) (6 page)

"What are you talking about?"

"If I were your wife-" Exhausted beyond measure by the stress of the day, Jenna knew she'd wandered into dangerous territory. She wasn't competent to hold this conversation. Her insides liquefied under the intensity of his stare.

"Don't leave me in suspense," he teased. "If you were my wife . . ."

Her face heating, she released a shaky breath. "I would probably be . . . a little suspicious."

"A little?" A dimple winked in his cheek as he fought his smile.

"Okay– a lot."

"Note to self: Jenna is very distrustful." His expression amused, he zipped his jacket. "Why would you think I was married?"

Finding herself cornered in a conversation that had turned awkward, her mind raced. "The day of my interview," she remembered with relief, thankful to divert his unrelenting scrutiny. "Mrs. Reilly interrupted us. She said Mrs. Traynor was on the phone."   

Comprehension dawn in his eyes as he recalled the incident. "Mrs. Traynor is my mother, Mona."    

Ignoring the giddy rush of pleasure his announcement caused, Jen avoided his gaze. Her reaction was wildly unprofessional . . . and absolutely futile. She couldn't afford to think about Jake that way. Like the stunningly perfect male specimen he was.

"I don't have to call anyone to ask permission," he continued, oblivious of her dangerously inappropriate thoughts. "It's one of the many perks of singledom. Now, are we clear on tonight?"

Rounding the bed, she paused to ruffle Alex's curls one last time, before stooping to kiss his forehead. "I feel guilty about this- but if you're sure."

As hard as she fought them, her eyes filled with tears again. This time, from relief. Blinking them back, she smiled at Jake. "I don't know what I would've done without you," she admitted, accepting the tissue he offered for the millionth time that day.

"Bad things happen . . . and you handle them as best you can." Jake pushed the door open, allowing her to pass.

Shaking her head in dismay, the realization hit her. "But– I was a basket case. I completely melted down in the waiting room. I embarrassed you-"

Reaching out, he captured her fluttering hand as Jen relived her earlier behavior. "Stop beating yourself up," he insisted. "You acted like a mom, terrified as hell about her son. I think that's admirable, not something to be ashamed of." Raising her fingers, he brushed his lips against them. "Forget it."

***

Forgetting was easier said than done, Jenna acknowledged. Wrapped in her grandmother's quilt and the memories hovering in the still darkness, sleep eluded her, dancing just beyond reach of her exhausted, racing mind. "2:17 A.M." She groaned after checking her alarm clock for the tenth time. On a normal day, her handsome, demanding, larger-than-life boss was hard to ignore. After hours of tossing and turning, she'd concluded that as a compassionate, thoughtful member of the human race, Jackson Traynor was impossible to forget.

Thoughts of Jake stubbornly refused to leave as her mind replayed the day's events. He'd been wonderful. Solid. Dependable. When she'd iced over with fear, he'd taken charge. When she'd dissolved in tears, he'd remained composed. Jen was astonished to admit it felt good. Being held in those strong, steady arms- The sensation of his capable hands stroking her back while she sobbed into his shirt. Her fingers tingled where his mouth had lingered. He'd looked after her, helping in the most desperate hours of her life. Each compassionate gesture– so foreign, yet so wonderful. How would she ever repay him?

How long had it been, she wondered, since she'd allowed herself to feel safe with a man who wasn't a brother? Since she'd trusted anyone? "It was Rick," she muttered. "And look where that left me." 

It still amazed Jen how her husband had slipped under her family's radar. With three older brothers, she'd rarely been allowed to rely on her own discretion. Either a potential suitor passed the Billy, Dan and David Stone test or she didn't leave the house.

Until college. Finally, she'd made decisions without three bodyguards second-guessing her. And who had she chosen? Rick had been nothing like the men her brothers would have chosen– safe, boring guys who were too afraid of the Stone brothers to risk trying anything. Rick Cahill had been exciting– dangerous. And she'd wanted him badly. In her haste to prove she was capable of making her own decisions, she'd harbored the illusion Rick could be tamed. The sullen, moody, bad boy with terrible grades and increasingly suspect friends would somehow morph into a soon-to-be-husband– reliable, thoughtful, teasing and loving– like her brothers.

By the time she'd dragged him home to meet her family, it had been too late for their opinion of her wild, unconventional boyfriend to matter much. Shortly after that last visit home, she'd dropped out of school. Furious, her parents had cut off contact. Two years later– they were gone– killed by a drunk driver during a vacation Jen hadn't even known they were taking.

Tears sparking in her eyes, she thumped the pillow, relinquishing the illusion of  sleep. Her parents had never learned how much she'd regretted her careless decision. They'd never known they were about to become grandparents. Burrowing under the quilt, she tried to distance herself from the memory. But the hollow regret had become a part of her . . . like a chain dragging behind her. Even now, Jen would catch a flash of her mom's expression in Megan's laughing smile. And be lanced with guilt.

Forcing herself to think of something more pleasant, Jen concentrated on the reassuring sounds of her silent house. The furnace clicked on, followed by the comforting warmth of heated air, the little creaks soothing in their familiarity. Megan slept soundly in her room down the hall. The only thing to spoil the cozy well-being was missing Alex.   

"He's safe. That's all that matters." She'd checked on him around eleven, Jake's gruff voice catching her by surprise. With a flash of guilt, she realized he'd probably been half asleep when he told her Alex had
finally
fallen sleep.

She smiled in the dark. Earlier in the evening, an orderly had delivered a cot for Jake. She tried to imagine her boss's large frame folded up on the little bed and failed. Laughter bubbled up when she pictured him wrestling with the flimsy mattress. Alex had been alert then, even enthusiastic about the prospect of spending the night with him. He'd called it camping. Camping out with Jake. Hearing him brag about their plans for the evening, she'd recognized the exuberant little boy she loved. Al was definitely on the road to recovery.

"Poor Jake," she whispered. He'd have his hands full.

Rolling to her side, she tugged her hair free from the blankets. Pinned up so often, she hadn't realized how long it was getting. Rick had loved her long, unruly hair. When her husband's friends commented on her appearance, he'd laughed right along with them. Jen had tried not to let his attitude bother her. So– he wasn't as protective as she'd always imagined a husband should be. It was all in fun, right?

Fun, it wasn't. Degrading, maybe. Rick's crowd offered lewd comments to any woman who drew a breath. With no one to confide in, Jen had learned to take it– hiding her humiliation behind a smile. After learning she was pregnant, his criticism increased. As the pregnancy progressed, her husband's main concern had centered around when she would regain her shape.  

He'd given the phrase 'single-parenting' new meaning. After Megan was born, it was Jen walking the floors with a sick baby at night and going to work the next morning. On the rare occasions Rick was home, he pretended not to hear Megan's plaintive cries.

By the time she became pregnant again, Jen harbored no illusions. Her discovery that Rick was cheating had been the catalyst to concede defeat on her disastrous marriage. Without him, life could only get better.

"Yeah, right," she muttered, grimacing at the memory. Giving up on sleep, Jenna crept downstairs. By the glow of the kitchen nightlight, she drifted to the sink. She hadn't known life was about to get drastically worse.

When the managing partner of Whitney Group had buzzed her desk a few months later, Jen assumed she'd scored the promotion she'd applied for. Six years of paying dues and biting her tongue in the tough, male-dominated construction company. Expectantly, she'd walked into his office.

"Jenny. . . I've received serious allegations about your conduct."

No commendation of her long hours and stellar work, only her alleged sexual performance with Steve Baldwin. In lieu of a promotion, an ugly accusation from the slimy manager who'd been hitting on her since Rick left. A meager severance check instead of a raise.

Scrubbing the goose bumps on her arms, Jen suppressed a shiver. For shattering her reputation, Steve Baldwin won her promotion. Suddenly exhausted, Jen trudged upstairs and climbed into bed, not daring to look at the clock again. Closing her eyes didn't stop the memory from haunting her.      

The night she was fired, Jen had mechanically emptied her desk. Within days, anger seeped through the cracks of her frozen facade. Her fighting spirit returned during the sleepless nights that followed. The allegations were false and defamatory. Whitney Group would pay for slandering her character. That evening, her voice was hopeful when she answered the phone.

"Mrs. Cahill? Baltimore PD. There's been an accident involving your husband. You'd better come downtown."  

Chapter 6

The insistent buzz of Jen's alarm was a rude awakening, a mere three hours after finally falling asleep. Slamming her hand on the snooze button, she bolted up a minute later.

Alex.

She couldn't afford to fall back asleep. The room tilted when she sat up, a headache already forming behind her drooping eyes. Staggering to the bathroom, she groped for aspirin before jumping in the shower.

An hour later she was humming after dropping Megan at school. It was amazing what strong coffee and the joyous thought of her son being released had done for her mood. As she found a parking space in the hospital lot, she wondered how Jake's night had gone. He'd made it clear she was to take the day off and get Alex settled at home. With the weekend to recover, she was certain he'd be ready for school Monday.

Her step was light as she breezed through now-familiar corridors. Her fingers were on the door handle when it was wrenched from her grip by the person standing on the other side. "Jake– what are you still doing here?"

He looked as though he wanted to snarl at her. Her gaze ran down the length of him– from the faded sweats to his scruffy morning shadow and the tousled hair on his head. She bit her lip to keep from smiling. Jake appeared as surly as she'd felt an hour earlier. Yet, he still managed to look sexy at the same time. Jen's pulse quickened in a way that had lain dormant for years. His shoulders looked broad and comforting in an old t shirt. "Did you get any sleep?"

Running a hand through his hair, he frowned. "Maybe twenty minutes, although after spending the night on that lumpy, toddler-sized mattress, I think even that's a stretch." Wearily rubbing his chin, he grimaced at the stubble he felt there. "If you'll excuse me, I seriously need a shower." Trudging past her into the hallway, he carried a small duffel. "Alex is still sleeping." 

Her hand was still on the door when he turned back. "You failed to mention your son is a real night-owl."

She raised an eyebrow over his curious remark. "It must have been the company, because he's usually out cold by eight."

Jake's grumpy expression shifted. "Yeah. Somewhere in the night we bonded. We're best buds now," he admitted, his grin sheepish when he turned again, heading for the bathroom down the hall.

She awakened her sleepy son, dressing him before he was aware what she was doing. Judging by the churlish complaints, she determined Alex was recovering rapidly. The nurse arrived to take his vitals and soon after, his breakfast appeared. Being waited on was an entirely new experience.

"Wow! Mom, is all that for me?"

"Go ahead. Dig in." She was quietly amazed when he began wolfing down food. Stuff he would never touch at home.

"Cool. Can you help me open this milk carton? And that stuff in the bowl. What's that?"

She took a tentative sniff before answering. "Looks like oatmeal. You probably won't like it."

"Yeah I will," he was quick to protest. "I just need to dump all this stuff on it and mix it up."

"Honey. . . don't waste the food." She began the standard lecture while gathering his remaining articles of clothing. Risking a peek over her shoulder, she couldn't help smiling when he proceeded to open every sugar, every creamer and every foil-wrapped jelly packet, dumping them into the oatmeal, one by one.

"Someone might have eaten that. What if Jake is starving for a bowl of oatmeal. . . and you just ruined it."   

"Not a chance of that happening. Right, Sport?"

Alex turned to acknowledge Jake as he entered the room. "Yeah, right. Mom, you know what? Me an' Jake stayed up all night. And you know what else? He told me all the stuff he doesn't like to eat."

Jen had to fight her double-take when her gorgeous, clean-shaven boss pulled up a chair near the bed. His hair still damp from the shower, he filled the room with a heady scent of soap and his fresh, outdoorsy aftershave. Inhaling the clean fragrance, she bit back the sigh of pleasure that wanted to escape. This close-up, her boss was devastatingly male. Her stomach knotted with a sudden wave of longing that left her stunned by its intensity. All she could picture were those strong, capable arms wrapped around her.

Good Lord, what was wrong with her? Awareness tripped through her as Jen remembered the feel of his steady hands. Struggling to hang on to the thread of conversation, she managed to choke out a response. "What else is on that list besides oatmeal?"

Thankfully, her son needed little encouragement. Her pulse still racing, she shot Jake a carefully schooled look of amusement when Alex wrinkled his nose in an obvious attempt to add color to his story.

"Oh. . . lots of stuff. Mostly the same things as me. You know. . . vegetables and fruit. . ."

"And oatmeal," she reminded.

"Hey, wait a minute. I like
some
vegetables, and a lot of fruits," Jake protested.

"Mom! Mom– you know what else? We watched Conan."

"Isn't that pretty late for you?"

"Nah. I wasn't sleepy. Jake and me. . . we stayed up practically all night. And you know what? Mom? Mom!"

"I'm listening, Al."

"There was this girl on there . . . and Jake said she was a hot babe."

"Really?" Jen couldn't keep the smile from her lips when she turned to study her boss. Now that it was too late, he was probably realizing she would be privy to every detail of their nocturnal conversations.

She wasn't disappointed when she confirmed his embarrassed smile. Jake looked as though he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. It wouldn't hurt to learn a few more intimate details she could file away for a later date. Jen kept her gaze on him as she spoke to her son again. "Finish your breakfast, Al. You can tell me
all
about your night with Jake once we get home."

To her chagrin, her boss seemed to recover quickly, just when she was enjoying seeing him on the defensive.

"Hey Sport, remember our oath," he reminded. "Most of our talk was guy stuff. So, it's confidential," he lied, barely managing to keep a straight face.

"Yeah, mom. It's class. . ."  Alex turned to him, his expression confused. "What is it again?"

"Classified," Jake supplied the word with a smile.

"Yeah, mom. Classified. Like the army guys. So, I can't tell you about the hot babe."

"Uh-huh." She'd see about that.

***

It wasn't until much later in the day it occurred to Jen the information highway worked both ways. She began to wonder what family trivia Alex had spilled to her inquisitive boss. Alas, the sleep deficit her son had incurred during his hospital adventure finally caught up with him. He was safely tucked in bed for a long nap before they would pick up Megan at school. Her subtle questioning would have to wait. And subtle it would have to be. Alex's new favorite word was 'classified' and it seemed to apply to every blasted question she asked.

Left with a few hours to kill, she pondered her strategy to get Alex to talk while she carefully climbed the ladder. She'd been meaning to clean the gutters for weeks, but hadn't felt safe leaving the kids to their own devices while she was outside, fifteen feet up on a ladder.

"Good Lord, it's a wonder they haven't collapsed." Eying the sagging gutters with dismay, she steadied herself, before yanking rubber gloves from her back pocket. Her nose wrinkled at the scent of decaying leaves when she scooped her hands into the muck. "Yuck. Nice and soggy, too." 

Wrestling the ladder around to the front, Jen was making good progress. She took pride in maintaining the little house herself, not that she had money to pay a professional anyway. The landlord had traded on rent when she'd agreed to a few maintenance chores on his house. But he'd certainly gotten the better deal when it came to the gutters.

She'd added a hammer to her belt and nails to her pockets for the next trip up the ladder. The gutters out front had to be reinforced now or they'd never make it through the winter. "A few nails and you'll be just fine."

Humming while she worked, Jen scooped muck and hammered nails as a pleasant  breeze wafted through the trees. Her strength starting to fade, it soon became a burden to re-position the ladder every five minutes. Each time she moved it, the ladder felt heavier. Her arms, pleasantly sore before, now felt like cement. Consequently, she began stretching a little farther. First a few inches, then a foot, until she was latching a leg around the rung before she leaned out.

"Almost done." A few more trips up the ladder and the task would be complete.

***

"What are you doing here?" Lost in thought, Jake debated lame excuses for driving down Jen's street in the middle of a Friday afternoon. He was dropping by– uninvited. "What can you possibly hope to accomplish?" Sleep-deprived after his hospital adventure with Alex, he'd caught himself chuckling over the funny things the little guy said instead of focusing on the contracts on his desk.

Without Jen there, Specialty had felt distinctly quiet. Empty. He'd become used to her presence. Her quiet confidence. He liked the challenge of making her smile because when she finally did– it did strange things to his stomach.

"It's one of these," he muttered, scanning the well-manicured homes, searching for the yellow one before his mouth dropped open. "That can't be her."

His demented, flame-haired assistant was standing near the top rung of a lopsided ladder. She also appeared to be testing fate, stretching her center of gravity as far from the rickety ladder as possible. Jake nearly hit her mailbox when he swerved his truck to the curb. Throwing it into park, he jumped from the truck and started running.

"Jen- what the hell are you doing?" Forgetting for a moment that she was twelve feet up on a ladder, she startled at his shouted question.

"Huh?"

She might have been fine if he hadn't barked at her. But her twist to see who was shouting made her stretch too far. His brain snapped the images as the ladder tilted; her weight shifting as she lurched sideways, her hands flailing for the gutters when he heard the ladder crash to the ground.

Jerking his head up, he discovered Jen hanging by her fingers from the worn-out gutters. Fear torqued through him. "Don't move. I'll get the ladder back up. Hang on." Scrambling into the shrubs, he dove to retrieve it.

"Have you lost your mind?"

He was wondering that himself. "Are you trying to get hurt?"

"You shouldn't scare people on ladders."

Her squeak of pain doused him with guilt. Damn, it looked a lot higher from the ground. Especially when Jen was dangling by her fingers. "What's that noise?"

"God, Jake– hurry." She'd heard it, too. The creaking, tearing sound of a length of gutter giving way under her weight. "Jake– it's-"

He knew before her scream sliced through the air. Forgetting the ladder, he lunged through the shrubs to catch her as she hurtled toward him. He managed to grab her, but the impact of her fall knocked them both to the ground. Blocking her body with his, he heard the gutter crash down.

Dazed for a moment, Jake cautiously opened his eyes and felt wetness on his face. He reached up to touch his chin and his fingers came away brown. At least it wasn't blood, he thought with relief. "Jen? Are you all right?"

"Not with you on top of me."

He rolled away, wincing when his hands came into contact with more of the brown, squishy sludge. "Does anything hurt? I think I broke your fall."

"My pride mostly. Has anyone ever suggested you not shout at people on ladders?" Jenna sat up cautiously, then lifted a hand to wipe the muck from her face. "Ouch."

"Where are you hurt?" Concern flaring, he quickly sat up.

"Just my arms, from hanging up there. What took you so long?"

"I was trying to find the ladder." For some reason, Jen couldn't contain her laughter. She was covered from head to toe with slimy, decaying leaves. He stared at her, confused. Why wasn't she afraid of the near miss she'd just experienced? "What the hell were you thinking? You shouldn't be that high on a ladder without someone helping you." His exasperated sigh cut through her amusement while she fought to catch her breath. "Dammit, Jen– what's so funny?"

Taking a steadying breath, she tried to control her fit of giggles. "You," she admitted as she wiped her eyes. "You're sitting in a puddle, covered in smelly, wet leaves and you're still lecturing me."

He eyed his clothes with dismay. Jake suddenly felt cold in the wet, stained khakis. Giving her the once-over, he finally cracked a smile. He was so used to seeing Jen all buttoned up at work, that even with a straggly, wet ponytail and muddy sweatpants she looked great. "You don't look much better," he pointed out.

Rising to her feet, Jen surveyed the damage before trudging into the shrubs to retrieve the ladder. "Damn, I was almost finished." She glanced over her shoulder, still tugging on the tangled branches to release her ladder. "What are you doing here, anyway?" 

Before he had time to summon a believable response, she raised another concern. "How much do you think it will cost to replace the gutter?"

"Go inside and clean up. I'll put your ladder away." Ignoring both questions, he reached into the shrubs, hauling the ladder from the brush. "Does this belong in the shed?"