Читать книгу Mr. Predictable: Mr. Predictable / Too Many Cooks - Carol Finch, Carol Finch - Страница 14

JAKE HALTED in his tracks when he walked into the lobby to see nine guests, four staff members and Will Randell gathered around the dining table where a cake waited with his name printed on it in red icing. His mouth dropped open wide enough for a pheasant to roost.

“Happy birthday, Jake,” the group said in unison.

Everyone had a beaming smile on his face, except the newcomer who seemed to think he was too good for a party where he wasn’t the center of attention. Jake inwardly winced, wondering if he’d given the same offensive impression when he arrived, demanding to be released so he could go home where he belonged. He felt the need to apologize to the entire staff for being troublesome.

“Thanks,” Jake murmured humbly. “Who made the cake?”

When he glanced at Anna Jefferies, she hitched her thumb toward Moriah. “Don’t look at me. She’s the one who took time out to bake.”

Jake focused his attention on Moriah, but her smiling gaze was directed over his left shoulder, avoiding eye contact. Yep, he’d blown the companionable camaraderie he’d enjoyed the previous morning before he kissed her lips off and practically climbed all over her on the back of Ol’ Sally. Sheesh! What was the matter with him? He must be cracking up.

“Have a seat, everyone, and I’ll dish up the ice cream,” Moriah said cheerily.

“So, Jake what’s the age count?” the burly Tom Stevens asked as he sank down at the table and made room for Will Randell’s motorized cart.

“Thirty-six.”

“Well, aren’t you the spring chicken around here,” Joe Higdon, the frizzy-haired guest from cabin six, said with a snicker. “Took me until age sixty-one to realize I was a fanatic workaholic in need of relaxation.”

Several other guests nodded their heads—which were in various states of balding.

“Do yourself a favor, Jake m’boy,” Will Randell remarked as he grabbed a glass of decaffeinated tea. “Learn to take life a little easier now so you don’t end up like me. Now I’m trying to make each day count and have some fun along the way.”

“No, kidding, kid,” Eugene Morris, the guest from cabin eight, chimed in. “I had to have myself a heart attack before I realized I was pressing too hard. Scared the bejeezus out of me.”

“Yeah, well, try hyperventilating and collapsing at the podium while giving a speech at a corporate board meeting,” Harold Pinkly, the guest from cabin nine, spoke up. “That will open your eyes in a hurry.”

While Jake parked himself at the head of the table—being the guest of honor that he was—he heard testimonials from everyone except the sour-faced gent who made it apparent that he was a little too good to be bonding with a bunch of corporate-whiz has-beens.

While Jake devoured the moist, delicious strawberry cake and ice cream, he formed closer acquaintances with the men. He was surprised that Moriah’s guests hailed from all parts of the country. Obviously her resort’s reputation was known far and wide, because Joe was from Dallas, Harold from Omaha and Eugene from Detroit.

Immediately, the cogs in Jake’s brain started cranking. He could create an incredible Web site to promote Moriah’s resort, one with enticing scenic pictures, peaceful music and all the necessary blurbs to advertise her myriad of recreational activities. Add to that a few testimonials praising positive results, a couple of tips for relaxation, and Moriah would have stressed-out businessmen clambering to her cabins in the panoramic valley.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to skip the fun and games and have a look at my cabin,” Robert Fullerton demanded as he stared down his nose at Moriah. “I’ve had a long drive from Saint Louis, after all.”

“Sure thing.” Moriah vaulted from her chair, her cheerful smile intact. “I’ll show you to the cabin.”

Jake was unprepared for his agitated reaction to Fullerton’s snippy attitude toward Moriah. It was fine for him to fling barbs at her, but let someone else come down hard on her and it ticked Jake off royally. Jeez, he had no right to feel possessive or protective. He’d only been here a couple of days and kissed her once. He didn’t have any rights whatsoever…but that didn’t stop him from feeling the urge to put in his two cents’ worth. With great effort he kept his trap shut and ate his birthday cake.

When the party crowd migrated to the living area to watch Will demonstrate his new electronic gadget that controlled the lights and catch the evening news, weather and sports, Jake took a long hard look at the other guests. It dawned on him—hit him like a lightning bolt, actually—that he was staring into his own bleak future when he gazed at these older men who’d worked themselves into anxiety attacks, heart seizures and strokes. He could be back here in twenty years, learning to take a more laid-back approach to life.

Jeez, Louise! He might become a burden to his sisters who, by then, would have children of their own and additional family expenses. He’d be the shriveled up, burned-out uncle stuffed in the corner and his nieces and nephews would have to veer around him on their way out the door to enjoy life. He’d probably have to be spoon-fed meals because carpal tunnel syndrome would cause his hands and wrists to function improperly.

Damn, he needed to chill out a little, he decided. He needed to find a hobby that he enjoyed and work it into his business routine…. He needed to take some time to stop and smell the roses….

The epiphany made him bolt upright and take another look around the room at the older men who were drumming their fingers on the armrests of their chairs, tapping their feet, twitching nervously and squirming restlessly in their seats. Holy cow! He realized his fingers were clenched around his glass of iced tea and he was tapping his foot. He forced himself to relax and unwind.

Okay, so maybe he was wound up tighter than a spring. He could fix that if he stayed the full two weeks and dedicated his time to recreational activity. Just because he made a pact with himself, there and then, to take his life at a less hectic pace didn’t mean he had to give up his devotion to his sisters and their new husbands. He could fulfill his professional responsibilities and keep a close family bond and still drop what he was doing when his sisters needed him. That would never change. Kim and Lisa would always be top priority because he’d made a commitment—financially and emotionally—to be there for them when needed. But he sure as hell didn’t want his sisters and brothers-in-law to have to care for him when he stumbled over the edge because he worked himself into an early collapse! After all, he was only good at relationships where others were dependent on him, same as Moriah was. He couldn’t function as the dependent in a relationship. It would feel too unnatural.

Jake surged from his chair and strode purposely toward Tom Stevens who was lounging in the La-Z-Boy recliner. “Tom, I’d like a massage, first thing in the morning. Can you work me in?”

Tom glanced up, his unibrow soaring up to his hair-line. “No kidding? Good for you, Jake. Sure thing. How about right after breakfast?”

Jake nodded. “I’m there.”

After Tom gave him two thumbs-up and flashed a toothy grin, Jake wheeled toward Kent, the bowlegged wrangler in charge of the stables and livestock. “Sign me up for a ride after my massage,” he requested. “And don’t put me on Ol’ Sally again. I want a horse with enough stamina and spirit to hold up for a two-hour ride.”

Kent chuckled at Jake’s newfound enthusiasm for recreation. “You bet, pardner. Want some company or is this a solo ride?”

“Solo,” Jake requested. “I plan to absorb the scenic countryside and do some in-depth personal meditation, if you don’t mind.”

Kent shrugged. “Sure, whatever you need, Jake. I used to do some serious meditation after one of those crazed rodeo bulls launched me through the air, then tried to trample me when I hit the dirt. That’s why I’m here instead of ridin’ the suicide circuit. I woke up in the hospital one day with my ribs busted and my knee twisted from its socket. I realized there had to be an easier way to make a livin’.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Tom agreed as he massaged his bulky shoulder. “I used to be an offensive tackle for the Dallas Cowboys until a bruiser, who was bigger and meaner, laid me out and knocked me unconscious. He also separated me from a few teeth. I decided I was getting too old and brittle to butt heads and fly all over the country, living out of a suitcase.”

“Same for me,” Chester Gray commented as he twisted in his chair to glance up at Jake. “I attacked the pro golf tour like a maniac for years. Got to where I couldn’t remember where I called home and booze was my most reliable companion.” He shook his sandy head and smiled ruefully. “Thanks to Moriah, I’m doing what I love and helping other folks take up the game of golf for pleasure and relaxation. Nothing makes me happier than giving a few pointers and then seeing one of the guests drive the ball down the fairway, after they’d whiffed it a few times without my help.”

Jake didn’t know where Moriah had found this motley group, but obviously she was a decent judge of character when it came to handpicking her staff. No doubt, she’d taken them under wing and worked her recreational magic on them as well. He suspected these relationships she had developed with her staff had originated from need and dependence and progressed to friendship and loyalty. Everyone around here seemed to think Moriah hung the moon and made the sun shine.

Well, Jake fully intended to take advantage of this resort, now that his eyes were open and his head was on straight. Yessiree, he’d have hobbies galore when he returned to his world. His sisters would stop fretting over him, because he’d no longer be Mr. Predictable who was stuck in a rut. He’d be Mr. All-Around from here on out.

Resolved to making life-altering changes in his behavior, Jake hiked off to tend to his first order of business—apologizing to Moriah. His attraction to her was going to be at the bottom of his list of things to do at the resort, he promised himself. He’d view her only as a recreational director and friend. No more getting sidetracked by her enchanting face and tantalizing figure wrapped in those outrageous and wildly colorful clothes. He’d divert his interest and attention to one hobby after another. Hell, he’d be Mr. Hobby. No more fierce intensity and one-track business mind for him. He was a changed man!

Jake was jostled from his thoughts by a feminine squawk that came from the area near cabin two. He sprinted through the darkness, dodging trees, to determine what had happened. He skidded to a halt and gnashed his teeth when he saw two silhouettes wrestling with one another.

“Hey! What’s going on here!” he boomed.

Jake’s arrival allowed Moriah to shove Robert Fullerton back into his own space. The man had followed her outside for his version of slap and tickle, after she’d managed to dodge his advances in the cabin. Damn, this jerk had a lot to learn about backing off and calming down.

Oh sure, some guests flirted with her from time to time and she had her own way of sidestepping unwanted advances. Robert, however, didn’t respond as readily to the lack of interest she paid to his suggestive innuendoes. If the domineering chump didn’t back off she’d send Tom over to have a man-to-man talk with him. Tom had been called in a couple of times the past five years—usually with miraculous results.

“Buzz off, pal,” Robert scowled when Jake advanced on him. “Sorry, birthday boy, but you’ll have to wait your turn. Moriah and I are getting acquainted right now—Whoa! Calm down, man!”

Moriah gasped in surprise when Jake clenched his fists in the front of Robert’s dress shirt and jerked him clean off the ground. “That isn’t necessary,” she assured him, trying to step between the two men.

“Yeah, it is,” Jake contradicted in a growl, never taking his eyes off the fifty-eight-year-old businessman. “Listen up, Bobby-boy, you behave yourself around Ms. Randell or I’ll be all over you like a bad rash. Are we clear on that?”

Robert shoved himself away and made a big production of smoothing the wrinkles from his silk shirt. “Look, bozo, I happen to be very influential in—”

“I don’t give a flying f—ig where your influence lies in the world outside Triple R,” Jake snapped brusquely. “Around here, you’re a guest and Ms. Randell is your recreational director. You treat her with the courtesy and respect she deserves. Starting now. Apologize.”

Robert’s square chin shot up defiantly. “No, she was stringing me along.”

Moriah opened her mouth to deny the preposterous claim, but Jake beat her to the punch.

“No, she didn’t,” he snarled ferociously. “Apologize!”

When Robert stubbornly refused, Jake pounced like a cheetah to twist the older man’s arm up the middle of his back.

“Ouch, you son of a—”

“Now!” Jake growled down the man’s neck.

“Fine…Ow!…I’m sorry,” Robert yelped.

Jake pushed him away, as if he found physical contact offensive. Moriah knew that feeling exceptionally well. She’d shivered with repulsion when Robert tried to slobber all over her. She had the unmistakable feeling Robert considered himself a regular ladies’ man. No doubt, Robert used his power of position to hit on women in the workplace—and anywhere else he could make a pass.

“Now, beat it, Full-of-Yourself,” Jake demanded.

“The name is Fullerton,” Robert said hatefully.

“I think you and I need to take a long ride up the mountain in the morning,” Jake insisted.

“Be careful you don’t knock him off the mountain-top,” Moriah advised, lips twitching.

Jake grinned wickedly. “Not to worry, Ms. Randell. I’ll make it look like an accident.”

Robert turned tail and scampered, lickety-split, into his cabin. Jake waited until the door slammed shut before he pivoted toward Moriah. “C’mon, I’ll walk you to your apartment.”

“That’s okay. I know the way,” she said, uncertain if she wanted his company at the moment. She wasn’t sure she had a secure grip on her emotions. Watching him rise to her defense like her personal knight in shining armor made too great an impact on her. She wasn’t accustomed to anyone standing up for her unless she specifically requested help—and that was always her last resort. Independent though she was, she kinda liked the way Jake defended her honor and discouraged future offenses.

Moriah told herself not to get used to the gratifying feelings that flooded through her, because Jake wouldn’t be around long. He was one of her guests and that was the extent of their short-term relationship, she reminded herself for about the fiftieth time.

He took her arm and steered her toward the lodge. “I’m walking you back so I can apologize all over myself for being an ass when I got here and for…um…that kiss yesterday.”

Moriah missed a step, then hurried to keep up with his long, swift strides. “That’s okay, Jake. I know you didn’t come here of your own free will. As for the other incident, I challenged you and you simply proved to me that you could be a little reckless and impulsive.”

“Apparently, I can be too reckless and impulsive where you’re concerned,” he grumbled. “That’s not a good thing. But I plan to be on my best behavior from here on out and change my rigid lifestyle.”

Moriah pulled up short and peered into his shadowed face. “It sounds as if you’ve been doing some soul-searching.”

“I have,” he confirmed with a decisive nod. “My inner self and I had a chat and we’ve decided I need to change my habits and lose the overly structured routine. I’m going to develop a hobby that’s unrelated to work.”

“That’s wonderful!” she enthused.

He tugged her alongside him. “In a week you won’t recognize me as Mr. Predictable.”

“Good. Your sisters will be enormously pleased.”

“They’ll get their money’s worth,” he promised as he circled around to the back of the lodge. “Now, about Bobby-boy. If he tries to give you any lip—verbal or physical—you let me know and I’ll straighten him out again.”

Moriah chuckled at his vehement tone. “That won’t be necessary. Tom usually handles incidents like this when I ask him to.”

Jake’s brows jackknifed. “This happens on a regular basis?”

“No, only a couple times when corporate-executive Don Juans think I should be part of their recreational activities.” Moriah sailed past him to climb the wooden deck that led to her apartment. “Well, thanks for the help. I’ll see you tomorrow, Jake.”

She glanced back to see him standing there with his hands stuffed in the hip pockets of his jeans, his gaze intense. A shiver—born of a source she refused to acknowledge—rippled through her body. She had the impulsive urge to hug the stuffing out of him for coming to her rescue and gallantly walking her home. But she knew she couldn’t stop with an appreciative hug. It was becoming alarmingly evident that her feminine body threw off sparks when she got within ten feet of him—which was good reason to keep her distance. Something deep inside her called out to him, needing and wanting things—like desire and passion and romance—that had been missing in her life.

Gad, she was being ridiculous! She didn’t need those things to make her happy. Her life was rewarding and fulfilling, just the way it was. Stiffening her resolve, Moriah reminded herself that she intended to have a talk with Jake, too, so they could return to solid footing.

“Come in a minute,” she invited as she pushed open the door.

“No, I don’t think that’s such a hot idea,” he mumbled.

Frowning, she glanced over her shoulder at him. “Why not?”

He shifted restlessly from one booted foot to the other, then stared up at the moon, as if it suddenly demanded his undivided attention. “Because, for all my good intentions, I’m still attracted to you. Seeing Bobby paw at you made me feel too protective, territorial and possessive, even when I felt like a damn hypocrite for practically giving you a tonsillectomy…and the other stuff…yesterday morning.”

Moriah felt herself moving instinctively toward him, even when that warning voice inside her head yelled, Keep your distance! You know these kinds of relationships can get tangled up if you let them. Besides, you don’t know squat about interactions and social dynamics between a man and woman. You flunked Romance 101, remember?

She also reminded herself that men occasionally mistook affection for gratitude when she coaxed them into kicking back, relaxing and developing hobbies. Usually, the affection was more along the lines of substitute daughter to father, which included friendly hugs and such. But Jake was only six years older and she was definitely attracted to him—now there was an under-statement if she’d ever heard one! The look, feel and scent of him played havoc with her senses, though she tried to maintain physical and emotional distance. Everything about him was different. She felt different when she was with him.

When Moriah halted directly in front of Jake and stared into his shadowed face, she knew her resolve had failed her completely. Before she could even think to stop herself she pushed up on tiptoe and kissed him, right smack-dab on the lips. And wham! Desire hit her like a grand slam, emptying the bases of her self-control. Jake clamped his arms around her and his lips came down hard on hers. Need roared in her ears while she kissed him for all she was worth.

Moriah couldn’t fault him for brushing his hands all over her, leaving her achy and breathless, because she had her hands all over him, too. She arched against the evidence of his arousal, pressed her tingling breasts against his muscled chest and lost the ability to think, only to feel and enjoy.

“Aw, jeez,” Jake said roughly against her lips. “Here we go again….”

And then he kissed her so ravenously, so thoroughly, she feared her legs would buckle beneath her. Every erogenous zone on her body was pulsating with intense need and the sizzle in his touch nearly electrocuted her. She groaned in frustrated desire when Jake nudged her feet apart and ground his hard flesh into the cradle of her thighs. Moriah clung to him, moving instinctively against him, baffled by her wild abandon, craving more of the delicious sensations pounding through her.

“Damn it to hell!” Jake suddenly stepped away and Moriah staggered for balance, wondering why desire hit her so hard so fast and launched her self-restraint into orbit around the planet Pluto. How could this keep happening? Why was it happening?

Jake raked his hand through his thick raven hair and blew a ragged breath. “I’m not sure these impulsive actions you advocate are good things for me. I came to apologize for kissing you the first time and the kicker is that all I could think about was kissing you again. Now look what’s happened. I’m so screwed up I can’t control or trust myself around you!”

“I started this,” Moriah reminded him unsteadily. “You don’t deserve the blame for what just happened. I asked for it.”

“Yeah,” he said, then gave a self-deprecating snort. “And I delivered. I’m sorry, Moriah. G’night.”

Moriah watched him disappear around the corner and then cursed herself soundly. She’d known Jake Prescott was going to be trouble—a dozen different kinds of trouble—an hour after she met him. Sure ’nuff.

Moriah staggered up the steps, closed the door and stood there staring at her empty apartment. The silence in there was deafening. Needs she’d spent years ignoring were exploding through her body like popcorn. She was magnetically drawn to Jake, hypnotized by those intense chocolate eyes, mesmerized by the needy desire he ignited in her. She couldn’t even begin to describe or categorize the sensations that bombarded her when he kissed her and caressed her. Damn, she must’ve been a harlot in a previous life, because she’d wanted to rip off his shirt and get her hands all over that sleek muscled flesh she’d seen the first night when she’d accidentally walked in on Jake while he was practically naked.

Moriah gulped when she realized her body was still sizzling and her heart was thumping like a nail gun. She remembered, with vivid clarity, how it felt to be wrapped in Jake’s powerful arms, their bodies meshed intimately together, his hands skimming over her feminine contours, her hands exploring his masculine body.

This was not good! This was insane! She barely knew the man, yet she wanted to take their relationship to a deeply intimate level and she never felt that obsessive need hammering at her before.

Good grief, did some latent feminine hormone kick in at age thirty to cause a woman to freak out, despite the good sense she’d cultivated for three decades? For heaven’s sake, she knew she was lousy at romantic relationships. She didn’t know diddly about attracting and holding a man’s attention. For all her extensive education she had some serious deficiencies when it came to relating to a man her own age.

Senior citizens she could handle, no sweat. Jake made her sweat—and that was the least of her reactions to him!

Ordinarily, she kept things lighthearted and casual with her guests. She could joke around with the best of them. But with Jake—

“But nothing. Go make your rounds, then go to bed, Mo,” she ordered herself sharply. “Just because this is Jake’s birthday, you didn’t have to kiss his lips off this evening. You baked his cake. That should’ve been good enough!”

Moriah blew out her breath, then lurched around to return to the lodge. She had warm milk and wine to deliver to her guests. She may have the hots for Jake, but it would pass when he returned to his world and she welcomed another guest to take his place.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to delve into the reason why she was anxious for time to whiz by at supersonic speed. She suspected it had something to do with the fear of developing heart trouble. She had to take the necessary precautions to ensure she didn’t contract the dangerous ailment.

MORIAH FROWNED when she returned from hiking with one of her guests to see Tom, Kent and Chester motioning her to an isolated spot beneath a sprawling shade tree. “Something wrong?” she asked worriedly.

“Yeah, ’fraid so,” Kent mumbled as he swept off his Resistol hat and raked his fingers through his smashed hair. “It’s about Jake.”

Moriah stared at the men in alarm. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Well, for the past week he’s attacked every leisure sport on the premises,” Chester Gray reported, lips twitching. “He got all huffy the first time he showed up to play golf and I told him we didn’t set pars for the course and we didn’t allow scorecards because it makes the game competitive and we don’t encourage competition at Triple R. He played twenty-seven holes of golf, nonstop. He wouldn’t have quit then, but his golf cart ran out of charge and I had to tow him to the shed. It’s the same drill each time he arrives at the course to play a round.”