Julie Hogan – Tangled Sheets, Tangled Lies (страница 3)

“You are the man!” Jem exclaimed.

The stranger cocked his head to the side and the corners of his firm, sensual mouth tipped into the beginnings of a smile.

“He means—” Lauren began.

But the man just smiled at Jem and said, “I think I know what he means,” with a hint of laughter in his voice. Then he unfolded the newspaper and as he did, she saw their ad circled in red ink. “I’m here for the job you advertised.”

Wasn’t that just her luck? She’d been expecting a nice, graying old man with dentures, not some godlike creature who, with a simple smile, was stirring up something inside her that was better left undisturbed. Something that felt like it might be putting her yearlong hiatus from men in peril.

She sighed inwardly and told herself she’d just have to keep that commitment at the top of her To Do list. She was convinced that in just one hundred and forty-four more days, her instinct for men would be refreshed—not that her instinct had ever been all that finely honed to start with, but that wasn’t the point. For now, she’d simply have to get rid of this stranger who had been dropped on her porch by fate to tempt her.

The man in question waved the newspaper with a flick of his wrist. “Unless the position’s already been filled.”

She thought about lying for a half a second, but there was a light in his blue eyes that made it impossible for her to manufacture a fib on the fly. “No, it hasn’t. But—”

“That’s great.” His voice was calm, his gaze steady, his smile sure. “Because I can start immediately.”

Not on your life, she thought, certain that the hordes of very safe and very unattractive grandpa types would be descending on her house any minute. “Actually,” she said, seizing what she hoped would be a successful thanks-but-no-thanks tactic, “I’m really looking for someone local.” She glanced pointedly toward the side yard and his truck. “And I can see you’re from out of state.”

“Yes, ma’am. Seattle area.” His gaze never strayed from hers. “That’s where I’ve been most recently anyway. Did some good work up there.”

“Then I’d be happy to take your resume. But like I said, I’m giving the first crack at the job to someone local.” Sounds good, sounds reasonable, she thought as she watched the giant oak tree that swayed gently in her front yard cast captivating shadows on his handsome, confident face.

“I’ve got to warn you,” he said as he leaned against the post. He crossed his powerful arms in a way that let her know he had no intention of just tucking his tail and slinking away. “You’re not going to find anyone better than me.”

Any red-blooded woman with a good pair of eyes could see that, but Lauren wasn’t the type to acquiesce so quickly. “I guess I won’t really know for sure until I see the rest of the applicants. But I’ll be happy to review your resume and call you for an interview if you’d like.”

The stranger’s smile widened, softening his features and giving the impression that he could be trusted with the contents of Fort Knox. Then he pushed away from the post and walked toward her and Jem with animal grace. “Don’t have a resume.” He leaned on the final word, like a resume was an item required only by mere mortal men. “Or a phone number, either. I’m really just passing through, looking for a few months’ honest work before I get on my way.”

Oh, passing through, Lauren thought. That meant she wasn’t going to be bumping into his charming grin—and all the other troubling attributes that were attached to that grin—around town. She breathed a little sigh of relief. Or was it regret? No, no, no, she chastised herself. It was relief.

As she tried to figure out what it was going to take to get this magnetic man on his way to the next town, Jem, clearly thinking he’d been silent long enough, piped up with, “Can you fix houses?”

The man hunkered down in front of her son, straining the denim that was stretched tight across his legs, and stared into her son’s eager eyes. “What’s your name?”

Jem smiled at the man in the guileless way that only children have the luxury of and said, “I’m Jem Simpson.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Jem. I’m Cole Travis, and the fact is, I can fix anything.” His voice was deep and filled with the promise of his words—and something else that had Lauren reaching over instinctively to put her hand on Jem’s slim shoulder. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time a man had tried to get to her through kindness to her son.

The man glanced up at her then, his eyes darkening as he quite openly studied her, but not in the way men usually did when they recognized her as one of the models in the Boudoir Lingerie catalog. No, Cole Travis was looking deeper than that, and it made her feel restless and excited—and a little bit annoyed.

Cole looked back at Jem and jerked his head in her direction. “Is this your mother, Jem?”

The boy nodded and smiled wider. “Her name’s Lauren.” But he pronounced it as he always did which made it sound like “Woe-when.”

“Lauren,” she said. “Lauren Simpson.” She hesitated a moment, then reached out her hand.

Cole Travis straightened, then took her hand in his own. His fingers felt like sandpaper as they slid roughly against hers. Lauren stared down at their intertwined hands and felt her control slipping a tiny notch. Warm, rough and electric, his gentle grip seemed to pour pure energy into her body.

It must be all that coffee she’d had at breakfast, she thought suddenly as she pulled her hand away and took one involuntary step back. “It’s been nice meeting you, Mr. Travis,” she said, shoving her tingling hand into the pocket of her jeans and forcing a wobbly smile to her lips. “But as I said, I’ll have to interview some local tradesmen before I decide.”

He shrugged. “Suit yourself. But I promise you, you won’t find anyone better.”

“Can you fix the swing?” Jem asked as he ran over to the creaky old wooden swing that was hanging precariously on its chain at the end of the porch.

“Sure could,” Cole said as he walked over and tested the swing’s chains with a gentle tug. He looked back at Lauren. “Tell you what,” he said. “I’ll give you a free sample. What harm is there in that?”

Lauren frowned. She wasn’t sure, but something about that slow, lazy smile was giving her the strangest feeling that he was making the decisions, like he was making the rules.

“And Jem can help,” Cole said and the boy’s face lit up like the night skies on the Fourth of July.

Her son glanced over at her with that same guaranteed-to-work grin, an unspoken plea to let him help beaming at her like a floodlight.

Common sense warred with her need to get Cole Travis as far away as possible. She was uncomfortable around him, and not just because the way he looked at her made her feel like her knees were made of rubber.

On the other hand, she did need a thousand and one things done around here and unless she wanted to miss the beginning of the summer tourist season in just under two months, she couldn’t afford to lose any more time. So what if she was attracted to him? she thought, mentally cracking the whip on her awakening hormones. Getting her business up and running was Priority One, dammit, and she wasn’t going to let her simple attraction to this man stand in her way. In no time at all, he would cease to be a temptation. She was sure of it. Absolutely sure…

Cole Travis leaned his head back and laughed at something Jem had said. Low, deep and heartfelt, the mere sound of it sent a shiver of pure, unalloyed longing careening through her.

She mentally shook it off, then reminded herself that if, for some unlikely reason, his appeal did fail to wane, certainly she could get a grip long enough to find The Old Man of Valle Verde—couldn’t she?

She wrapped her familiar control around her like a superhero’s cape before she spoke. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll give you an hour. If the swing’s fixed before the hour’s up, I’ll hire you for the weekend.”

Cole Travis hesitated only a moment before that lazy smile appeared and he said, “You’ve got a deal.”

She nodded, then looked back at Jem, who was now grinning from ear to ear, clearly anticipating his own participation in Cole’s work. “As for you, young man, didn’t you promise you’d help me clean that train wreck you call a bedroom?”

Her son’s expression went from sixty to zero in one second. He looked down at his feet and nodded, his voice holding about as much enthusiasm as if he were going to the guillotine. “Uh-huh,” he said.

“When you’ve finished,” she said, softening her tone, “we’ll come and check Mr. Travis’s progress.” She slanted a look at Cole. “Then we’ll see how good he really is.”

Amusement—and something else she couldn’t put her finger on—flickered in the eyes that met her gaze. His voice was soft and almost sensual when he spoke. “I think you’ll like what you see.”

Too late for that, she mused, then checked herself mentally. Lauren gave him a smooth nod, turned the key in the ancient lock on the front door and waited for Jem to precede her inside. Hopefully that gray-haired old man would show up soon, she prayed as she followed her dejected son, and then she could get started on the things that really mattered: making a house and business that would sustain her and Jem for the rest of their lives.