Laurel didn’t allow herself a lot of creature comforts. Starting up her own bakery from the ground up had taken nearly every cent she’d saved over the past several years and while her business was steady and profits were decent, she wouldn’t consider herself in the black until she was able to fully pay back the small business loan she’d had to take out. Two things she did allow herself, though, were good quality shoes since she was on her feet all day and luxury sleepwear—silk pajamas, lacy nightgowns, plush slippers and satiny robes—that kind of thing.
The shoes might have saved her feet from another day of torture, but the silk tank and pajamas shorts she’d put on weren’t saving her bruised feelings at all. What she needed, she decided, was chocolate and lots of it. But Laurel didn’t keep chocolate in her home and she was wont to ever cave into emotional eating again. Having struggled most of her life with a weight problem as a direct result of such behavior, she knew better.
But oh, it had been a long while since she’d felt this low. Publicly humiliated was bad enough. But his insinuations—she hadn’t been imagining them, had she? He’d implied an interest in her.
Hadn’t he?
“I could cheerfully beat the everlovin’ tar outta you, Jack Steely,” she muttered.
Truth was, it had been so long since she’d had any sort of romantic notions thrown at her from the opposite sex, she couldn’t be sure. She may have very well been imagining things. Or wishful thinking, more likely.
Pacing to the kitchen, she opened her cabinets to view the contents only to come away even more frustrated than before she’d bothered to look.
Slamming the cabinet doors shut, she groaned and sank onto a chair at her kitchen table. Cradling her head in her hands, she let her red hair cover her face as though she could hide from herself.
“I’m so completely stupid,” she confessed to her silent apartment. “I mean, I know he’s somewhat of a rake. I’d be completely insane to think he wanted anything real from me. He’s sampled half the women in town for heaven’s sake.”
But bemoaning his womanizing ways out loud didn’t assuage the sting she still felt from his abrupt departure. Dammit, she hadn’t said anything to run him off. She’d been in the middle of devouring that lovely steak when he tripped all over himself to get away.
“He’s just a rat,” she muttered and pushed up from the table. “A stinky, mean, deliciously sexy rat.”
This is good, she thought as she paced angrily around the room. Working up a head full of steam and getting angry was a far cry better than moping and moaning and tearing herself to shreds. She wasn’t at fault here and she didn’t deserve any self recriminations this time.
For once she’d been the kind of woman she’d always wished she could be. Not gossipy or catty. She’d been nice, dammit, even though she could have been a real bitch and taunted his mother’s new roommate in his face.
Worse, she’d been hopeful.
While hopefulness might make her foolish, she hadn’t deserved to be discarded and humiliated so thoroughly. That was all on Jake, the bastard.
Plucking a throw pillow from the couch, she pressed it to her face and yelled an angry scream into it before tossing it heartily at the wall. The sudden pounding from her door in the midst of her fit made her yelp.
Whirling to face the door, she clutched the fabric of her low cut tank top and scowled. Who on earth could that be? She wondered as she crept to the door. Whoever it was pounded even harder a second time just as she leaned toward the peephole and she jumped again.
Biting her lip, she leaned in again and peered through the peephole . “Crap,” she muttered when she realized who it was.
“Open up Laurel,” Jack barked. He rattled the doorknob and pounded again. “Dammit, Laurel, are you alright?”
“Go away, Jack,” she yelled, one hand pressed against her pounding heart and the other gripping the doorknob he was still jiggling.
“I heard a muffled scream. Is someone in there? Are you okay?”
Laurel slipped the chain on the door before unlocking gingerly opening it enough to peek out. “I’m fine, Jack. But I really don’t want to see you right now. Go away.”
“The hell I will,” he growled and pressed at the door. “Let me in.”
Backing up slightly, half fearing he might barge right through the chain, Laurel gripped the doorknob as though her life depended on it. And judging by the glitter of wildness in his eyes it just might. “Don’t make me call the cops on you, Jack Steely,” she bluffed.
He scoffed at the notion and tested his weight against the door. “Don’t make me break the chain on this door. I’d hate to have to replace it later.”
No doubt he’d do it, too, she grimaced. “What do you want, Jack? You were perfectly clear how done you were with me when you bolted from the table at supper as though I’d just sprouted a second head.”
“I did not bolt,” he gritted and paced away from the door, his hands shoveling through his already messy hair.
“You bolted so fast you nearly broke the sound barrier. You can’t possibly have anything to say to me.”
Stopping mid-pace, Jake strode back to her door and pressed as close to the small opening as he could. “Oh I have plenty to say to you, Laurel Hathaway. But I’m not saying it through the crack in this door. So open up or I will tear it down. You’ve got to the count of three. One.” He counted and Laurel gulped.
He couldn’t be serious. What could he have to say to her that would inspire brute force?
“Two.”
“Honestly, Jack. I’ll call the cops.”
“Three.”
He moved away from the door a bit, a steely glint of determination in his eye and Laurel scrabbled for the door. “Okay, okay, fine.”
Closing it enough to slide the chain off, Laurel swung the door open with a flourish and swept her arm out with exaggerated invitation. “Please come in, Jack.”
He grinned and swaggered into her living room as though he owned the place. She watched as he surveyed the open set of rooms, taking in the tidy kitchen and little table before studying the small living space. He strode purposefully to the bedroom door and peered in, going so far as to check her closet.
“Honest to Pete, Jack, what the heck are you doing?”
Exiting her bedroom, he gave her a silencing glare before checking behind the shower curtain in her bathroom.
“Just checking. The muffled scream I mentioned? I know I didn’t imagine that.”
Her eyes flickering to the pillow that lay limply on the living room floor, Laurel gave a shrug. “I don’t know what to tell you, Jack. I’m fine. The only intruder in my home is you and the spider that’s taken up residence beneath my refrigerator.
Lifting an eyebrow at her, Jack turned again to survey the room. She couldn’t help but wonder what he saw when he looked at her home. She’d never really had any guests in here before. The whole lacking friends thing wasn’t exactly conducive to entertaining in her home.
When he finally turned back to face her, his eyes traveled the length of her body, his breath hitching with each inch and with a squeak she realized that she was standing rather scantily clad in front of a very virile manly male.
Darting quickly to her room, she berated herself quite heartily for her foolishness. Not that she had anything he hadn’t seen a hundred times before, she snorted. Pulling on a long black silk robe, she yelped when she turned to find that he’d followed her and stood at the entrance to her room.
He leaned against the doorjamb, his arms crossed over his impressively built chest and his lips quirked into a sexy grin. “Don’t cover up on my behalf. I find the scenery around here very appealing, actually.”
Wrinkling her nose at him, she tightened the belt at her waist. “Of course you do.”
With a shrug, he pushed away from the jamb and retreated to the living space. Following him, she paused at the tiny dining table and studied him. She’d have thought his sheer and utterly impressive manliness would make her tiny living space appear that much smaller. Claustrophobic, even. Instead, he made the place feel cozy and warm.
And if she weren’t so damn mad at him, she might even like his presence there.
“What do you want?” she asked. Her voice came out a lot huskier than she’d intended. By the lift of his brow, she realized he’d noticed it, too.
“I came to return something to you.”
“Did I forget something at Steely J’s? You could have had someone call me.”
He dug something out of his pocket as he strode toward her. Taking her by the wrist, he lifted her arm so that her palm was facing upward and pressed whatever it was into her hand.
When he released her, Laurel felt her blood rush to her head when she realized it was the money she’d left at their table.
“I generally like to get the check when I dine with a pretty lady.”
Swallowing at the implication that their half eaten meal might have served as some sort of date, Laurel clutched the bills as she crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “Maybe if you’d actually stuck around to finish the meal, I’d have realized. But since you hot footed it out of there before the steaks had even stopped sizzling I figured I’d pay my own way.”
“I did not—“
Holding up a hand, Laurel shook her head. She wasn’t going to argue with him. It would serve no purpose. She just wanted him gone.
“Fine, Jack. Thanks for returning the money. You can go now.”
“Dammit, Laurel would you just put your hackles down for two damn minutes?” He shoved his hands through his hair and paced around the room. “I didn’t bolt. Not the way you mean, anyway.”
“Okay then, you left in a hurry. You had someplace to be. Whatever. Goodnight, Jack. Thanks for stopping by.”
He stopped pacing and stood staring at her, his mouth in a thin grim line. “Why didn’t you tell me about my mother?”
Well crap. So it wasn’t even some misguided sense of chivalry that had had him threatening to bust through her door. He wanted the scoop. But worse, he wanted to be all pissy with her about it because he knew she’d known and hadn’t told him. And if she had told him, he’d have been all pissy with her for spreading gossip about his mother.
Just. Freaking. Great.
“Get out.”
“Laurel—“
“I’ve had it with you, Jack. I may usually be ten kinds of awful and a touch stupid but I am through with this. And I’m through with you. If you want to know something about your mother then ask her. But leave me out of it.”
“You are not ten kinds of awful and you’re certainly not any kind of stupid,” he breathed, pacing toward her.
Backing away from him, she shook her head. “Go away, Jack. Leave. Now.”
He studied her for several torturous moments. Long, painful moments of trying oh-so-hard not to cry in front of him. Finally, he nodded but didn’t move.
“Fine. I’ll go. But just tell me. Why didn’t you mention it at supper? I know you knew. You had to.”
“Why? Because I’m the town gossip and know everything?”
He shrugged sheepishly. “So why didn’t you say anything?”
Oh cripes. Should she be honest and tell him the truth? Or lie through her teeth? Honesty would make her even more vulnerable to him than she already was but hell if the thought of lying to the son of a biscuit didn’t leave a bad taste in her mouth.
“Honestly? In this instance I figured it might be best to come from her than me. But really Jack, whatever you’ve heard, it’s really not at all sordid.” That she still felt the need to protect him after everything he’d put her through made her want to kick something.
“Thank you.”
She watched half angry and half sad as he turned and quietly left. As the door clicked softly shut behind him, she tossed the wadded up bills on the table and sank limply into a chair. Resting her head on the tabletop, she let the tears leak from her eyes.
