Читать книгу Husband Needed - Cathie Linz - Страница 8

Two

“So, what did you think of my nephew?” Ralph Enteman asked Kayla as she drove away from Jack’s building. Ralph had called her on her cellular phone.

“He’s everything you said he was...and more,” she replied.

Recognizing the irritation in her voice, Ralph said, “You’re not going to quit, are you?”

“Of course not! In fact, I’m on my way now to get your nephew some groceries and other necessities.” In her opinion, Jack could definitely also use some common courtesy and patience with a little cooperation thrown in. Unfortunately none of those things could be picked up at any store. Talk about being obstinate...the man could give lessons to a mule!

As if reading her mind, Ralph said, “I did try to warn you that Jack could be stubborn.”

“Yes, you did. But apparently you didn’t warn him that I was coming to his apartment. Jack mistook me for someone else. He tried to smack me over the head with his crutch.”

“Oh no! I know he’s got a temper, but I never thought he’d do anything violent.”

Kayla felt compelled to clarify. “In his defense, he thought I was trying to break into his apartment.”

“Oh. Well then, his reaction makes sense. Someone did break in and rob him a few months back, although that neighborhood is much better than where he used to live. The thing is, Jack isn’t a man to just sit around and do nothing if threatened.”

“Believe me, I wasn’t at all threatening. Quite the opposite.” Kayla was tempted to add that she’d had her daughter with her, but she wasn’t sure what Ralph’s reaction would be. After all, Jack hadn’t been that pleased to see Ashley.

But Kayla had a schedule and nothing messed with it, even handsome firefighters like Jack. Today was Wednesday, and on Wednesdays Kayla kept Ashley with her until one p.m., when she dropped her off at the Windy City Day Care Center. One of the things Kayla liked about her work was the ability to take Ashley with her now and then. Most workdays Kayla did leave her daughter in child care, but there were certain days, like today, when they shared time together.

Stopping at a red light, Kayla shot a smile over to Ashley, who was strapped into the car seat and happily talking to her favorite toy—a rather battered teddy bear named Hugs. The bear was even older than three-year-old Ashley, because Kayla had bought it for her the day she’d found out she was pregnant. There had been some tough times in the intervening years, and the toy’s brown fur had now faded to a dark beige from numerous washings.

“Anyway, I’m sorry Jack upset you,” Ralph was saying.

“He didn’t upset me,” Kayla assured him. After all, it wouldn’t do for her client to think that she was easily distracted. She wanted him to appreciate her calmness and reliability. She wanted him to think of her as a woman who got the job done. “We got everything settled, no problem.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear that.”

After hanging up her cellular phone, Kayla told herself that she hadn’t lied to Ralph. As far as she was concerned, everything was settled between Jack and her. And that sizzle of attraction she’d felt when she’d handed him her pen had been a figment of her imagination. She refused to even consider any other explanation.

“Anyone home?” This time Kayla made sure to announce her return to Jack’s apartment. She’d tried ringing the buzzer, but there had been no reply. And after his former blunder, Kayla didn’t trust Ernie the Doorman anymore. The fact that Ernie had asked her if she was Jack’s “latest” hadn’t exactly endeared him to her, either.

“This is your second time here today, not that I pry into other people’s business,” Ernie had told her in a monotone so deadpan it would put a caffeine-freak to sleep. What little hair Ernie had was carefully combed back from his forehead in a futile attempt to give him the image of having more hair than he actually did. His uniform fit his hefty build so snugly that the buttons were straining, as if ready to launch themselves across the lobby.

Despite his disclaimer about prying into other people’s business, Kayla had sensed that Ernie had been more than willing to give her the lowdown on Jack, but she hadn’t stayed to chat. It was already after three, and she had other clients and other errands to run before calling it a day. But she had accepted Ernie’s help in transporting several bags of groceries up to Jack’s front door.

“Jack, it’s Kayla,” she called out as she pushed the door open a little further. She had two plastic bags of food in one hand. The list of groceries he’d given her had cost her nearly eighty dollars, and most of it was junk food. “I’ve got your groceries. Anyone here? I’m not a burglar or belly dancer...” she couldn’t resist adding with a grin. “Hello?”

She made it into the living room without Jack taking any kamikaze swings at her with his crutch. In fact, she didn’t see any sign of him. For a moment she panicked, wondering if he’d fallen and hurt himself. An image flashed into her mind of him lying in the bedroom, injured, unable to get up. Then she registered the sound of the shower running.

Her mental image switched from him lying on the bedroom floor, to him lying in the bathroom, his chest bare...perhaps even all of him bare.

“Oh, great, that’s very helpful,” she muttered under her breath. “Having steamy fantasies about your client when the poor man is injured and could be in trouble.”

So what should she do? Knock on the bathroom door and make sure he was okay? Let him know she was there? She certainly didn’t want him walking out of the bathroom nude or anything. He seemed the type to do just that. Yet she didn’t want to startle him, either. He might slip in the shower and break his other leg.

Putting her ear to the door, she heard him singing. Okay, that meant he wasn’t in trouble. In fact, his voice wasn’t half-bad. Neither was the rest of him. The rebellious thought slipped into her mind before she could stop it.

“That’s enough of that,” she muttered under her breath. “Get your mind out of the shower!”

In the end, Kayla decided to write a note telling him she was there. She taped it to the bathroom door. She’d no sooner done that than the phone started ringing. Expecting an answering machine to pick up, she waited for seven rings before the noise drove her crazy, forcing her to answer it herself. She’d never been able to just ignore a ringing phone—after all, it might be an important call.

“Mr. Elliott’s residence,” she said briskly, juggling the six-pack of soda she was trying to place into the fridge at the same time.

“Who is this?” a woman’s voice demanded. “Where is Jack?”

Wishing now that she hadn’t answered the phone, Kayla said, “He’s in the shower.”

“In the shower?” the woman repeated in disbelief. “What kind of answer is that?”

“The best one I’ve got,” Kayla retorted. “May I tell him who’s calling?”

“Misty. And have him call me back as soon as he gets out!”

“Fine. Does he have your number?”

“Honey, he knows me inside and out,” the woman purred before hanging up.

Kayla had no sooner hung up the phone than it rang again. She’d automatically picked it up before realizing what she’d done. “Hello?” she said before belatedly tacking on, “Elliott residence.”

“Oh, my, you’re not Jack!” Caller number two had a husky female voice that was made all the more sultry by a Southern accent.

“That’s right,” Kayla said cheerfully. “I’m not Jack.”

“Which girl are you?” the woman asked. “You don’t sound like the snippy attorney who was chasing him last week. And you’re not the waitress with the English accent, either.”

Kayla began wondering if that was how Jack had broken his leg, from being chased by endless lines of women.

“Mr. Elliott is unavailable at the moment,” Kayla stated. “May I take a message for him?”

“Tell him Mandy is worried about him and willing to drop everything to come on over there to take care of him. He just has to say the word and I’ll be right there.”

“I’ll tell him.”

By the time Jack came out of the bathroom, wearing nothing but a smile and a pair of running shorts, Kayla had collected a stack of nearly half a dozen messages—all from women with names that rhymed.

“You got calls from Misty and Mandy, Tammy and Sammy, Barbie and Bobbie,” she said, trying to keep a straight face.

“What are you laughing at?” he demanded defensively.

“Nothing.” Her earlier amusement disappeared as the details of his appearance belatedly sank in with her.

He’d looked good before but now...now he was raw masculinity incarnate. More of him was bare than was covered. He was a throwback to another age, a time when men survived by their physical strengths.

Although solidly built, there wasn’t an ounce of extra flesh on him. Dark hair covered his chest, trailing down from collarbone to navel, but not so thick that she couldn’t see the ridges of muscles beneath. He radiated presence and power—a knight minus his shining armor.

Which left her as what...a damsel in distress? Realizing she’d been holding her breath since he’d walked in the kitchen, she belatedly inhaled. She could smell the fresh scent of his soap. Her gaze fastened on the single droplet of water slowly meandering down toward the waistband of his running shorts, which clung to his still-damp lower torso.

The silence was deafening as Kayla heard the increased pounding of her own heartbeat. She saw the way his chest rose and fell. Was he breathing faster, too? Her eyes lifted to meet his. Only then did she realize how pale he was.

Quickly gathering her wits, Kayla asked, “Uh...are you supposed to be taking a shower so soon after breaking your leg? When did you break your leg, anyway?”

“Yesterday.”

“Yesterday!” His answer evaporated her steamy fantasies as concern took their place. “And you’re singing in the shower today? Are you crazy?”

“Probably,” he muttered, grimacing at the pain shooting up his right leg.

“A three-year-old would have more sense! Here, you’d better sit down before you fall down,” she said, scooting a kitchen chair over to him.

“I’m not an invalid,” he snapped.

“No. You’re an idiot!” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.

She immediately clapped her hand to her lips with such a look of guilt that Jack had to smile.

“No, don’t hold back,” he teased her. “Go ahead and tell me what you really think.”

“I think you should sit down.”

“I’ll never get used to these stupid crutches by sitting down.”

“What’s your hurry? Didn’t the doctor tell you to take things easy for the first few days?”

“I’ve had emergency medical training. I know what I’m doing. What are your qualifications?” he growled irritably. Willing himself past the pain wasn’t working, and the pain medication the doctor had prescribed made him too damn groggy.

“I broke my leg once. When I was ten,” Kayla told him.

“Oh, and I suppose that makes you an expert?”

“Are you always this grouchy or does a broken leg bring out the worst in you?” she inquired in exasperation. Remembering that he hated anyone fussing over him, she deliberately focused her attention on unpacking the remaining groceries.

“Very funny.”

“Not really,” Kayla replied, opening a cabinet and finding it empty except for... She held up two plastic bags of dried beans. “Having nothing to eat in the kitchen but lentils, now that’s funny.”

“I don’t know how they even got in the kitchen,” Jack muttered. Deciding enough time had passed to make his point—that he wasn’t a weakling who obeyed orders—he carefully made his way the three steps to the kitchen chair, hoping it didn’t look like he collapsed into it. “I hate lentils,” he said, before reaching over and snagging a clean T-shirt from the laundry basket on the kitchen table.

“Maybe one of your girlfriends brought them for you,” Kayla said, trying not to notice the way his muscles rippled as he lifted his arms to tug the T-shirt over his head. The movement ruffled his still-damp dark hair, adding to his roguish appearance.

“None of my girlfriends know how to cook,” Jack replied.

“Really? You mean you weren’t attracted to them because of their culinary talents?”

He didn’t took amused.

Delighted to be provoking him for a change, Kayla continued. “You know, I’ve heard there’s safety in numbers, but I’ve never seen such a remarkable example of it before.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Come on. Misty, Mandy, Tammy, Bambi...”

“I don’t know a Bambi,” Jack inserted, enjoying the way her blue eyes lit up with humor. He’d only seen that intense shade of blue once before, in a kitten he’d befriended as a kid. Eyes so full of life.

“No Bambi, huh?” Kayla said. “Well, I’m sure it won’t take you long to remedy that. How can you keep them all apart with names so similar?”

“That’s not a problem. Randi has long red hair and the biggest pair of...eyes you ever saw.”

“Never mind.” The humor in Kayla’s eyes was replaced with a flash of something else, something he couldn’t identify. “Forget I asked.”

“No way. The least I can do is satisfy your...curiosity.”

“That’s all you’re gonna satisfy, buster,” she muttered under her breath.

“What did you say?”

“I was just talking to myself.”

“Lonely people do that a lot, I hear.”

“I’m not lonely,” she denied.

“No?”

“No. I have a daughter and I lead a very full life.”

“Even if you’re not an exotic dancer?”

His mocking voice sneaked under her defenses, making its way to her heart like a shot of whiskey. Not that she had much experience with whiskey. She was more the milk shake type herself.

“I still can’t believe you ever thought that,” she said.

“Why not?”

“Because. I mean, I’m not...I don’t have the right kind of body.... Never mind.”

Jack grinned. “For what it’s worth, I think you definitely have the right kind of body. The kind I like.”

“From the number of women who called you, it sounds as if you like all kinds of female bodies,” she tartly retorted.

“Hey, there’s always room for one more.”

“I don’t care for crowds.” Her voice got that prim tone again, the one that made him want to kiss her.

“I’m not wild about crowds, either,” he murmured.

“You couldn’t prove it by those calls.”

“Ah, but one-on-one is always best, don’t you think so?”

“I think this discussion has gotten way out of hand,” she declared in a no-nonsense tone of voice.

“And here I was, thinking things were just getting interesting.... Wait a second. What’s that?” Jack demanded as she pulled a six-pack out of the grocery bag.

“Beer.”

“It’s not the right kind of beer. That’s not what I wrote on the list.”

“They didn’t carry that imported brand. The liquor clerk told me this one would taste the same.”

“Well, he lied. It doesn’t. One is ale, this is just a pale imitation.”

“Fine—” she snatched the six-pack back from him “—I’ll pick up your imported beer tomorrow.”

“And these aren’t the right kind of beer nuts, either,” Jack grumbled, eyeing the can he’d removed from one of the plastic bags still littering the floor. “These are honey roasted. I wanted salted.”

“I had no idea I was dealing with such a gourmet.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “I know what I like. Do you have a problem with that?”

“I’m not the one with a problem,” she muttered under her breath.

“Implying that I am?” he retorted,

“You’re the one with the broken leg.”

“What a brilliant observation.”

She’d observed plenty of other things about him, like the way his dark hair tumbled over his forehead as it dried, the intensity of his smoky eyes, the breadth of his shoulders—swimmer’s shoulders. And then there was his mouth. When he’d grinned at her a few minutes ago, it had been like watching the sun come out. Crinkly laugh lines had suddenly appeared at the corners of his lips and his eyes. The gleam of devilish humor in his gray eyes made them seem even more awesome than usual.

Belatedly realizing he’d caught her staring at him, she hurriedly said, “So exactly how did you break your leg?”

“I told you, I broke it in the line of duty. You didn’t seem too interested in hearing the details this morning.”

“That’s because you rattled me.”

“Really?”

“Who wouldn’t be rattled when a madman comes at them, waving a crutch and shouting like a banshee?”

“Why do I get the feeling that there isn’t much that rattles you?”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. And you still haven’t answered my question about how you broke your leg.”

“Would you believe I broke it falling out of bed at the firehouse?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether or not that’s the truth.”

“It’s one version of it.”

“Truth doesn’t have versions.”

“Sure it does. Ask any cop. You get three witnesses and you’ll get three different versions of the truth.”

“So what’s your version?”

“I got clumsy.” Fighting fire left no place for being clumsy. “Fire is a jealous taskmaster,” he murmured, almost as if he were talking to himself. “She doesn’t like it when you take your attention off her, even for a second.”

“So fire is a female?”

Jack nodded.

In exasperation, she said, “Why is it that anything disastrous is female—hurricanes and now fires?”

“Hurricanes are named after guys now,” he pointed out. “But something as beautiful and powerful as fire has to be female. She’s like a living thing that eats...and hates. And in her eyes you’re nothing more than fuel. That’s all you are. Fuel.”

Kayla shivered. There was just something so matter-of-fact in his voice. “How can you talk about it that way? So calmly?”

“Because I fight fire. It’s what I do.”

“And doing it broke your leg?”

He shrugged. “I told you, I got clumsy. You’ve seen me on these crutches and you’ve got to agree, I’m not the most graceful guy you’ve ever seen.”

Not the most graceful, no—but certainly the most powerful. Yet for all of his strength, she experienced this sudden need to look after him. “Did you get your cast wet when you took your shower?”

“Nope. I put a garbage bag around it because the doc said to keep it dry.”

“What other orders did the doctor gave you yesterday?”

“Hey, no one gives me orders outside of the firehouse.”

Kayla sighed. Her instincts were right. This guy definitely needed a keeper. “Meaning you probably ignored whatever orders the doctor gave you, right? That was real bright. Do you enjoy being in pain?”

“Want me to tell you what I enjoy?” Jack countered, his gaze focused on her lush lips.

“I already know.”

“You do?”

She nodded and held up a bag of corn chips. “Junk food.”

“Among other things. Lots of other things.”

Kayla refused to be distracted. “Did the doctor give you a prescription?”

Jack nodded.

“Let me guess. You didn’t get it filled, did you.”

The look on his face said it all.

“What is it about men that makes them so stupid?” she demanded in annoyed exasperation. “Are they born that way or is it learned behavior? I think they’re born that way,” Kayla answered herself. “It’s some sort of defective gene, the same one that makes men refuse to ask directions or read instructions.”

“What do we need to read instructions for?”

“To get the job done faster.”

“There are plenty of times when slower is better,” he murmured, the look he gave her making it clear what those times were.

“Oh, I see. So slower is better when you’re in pain from a broken leg? Sure, that makes sense. Why take medication to make you feel better, right? I mean, that would be admitting that you’re human. That once in a blue moon you might need some help. Heaven forbid that should ever happen!”

Jack glared at her. His humor wasn’t helped by the fact that his leg was really throbbing in earnest now.

Seeing the pain etched on his face, Kayla felt remorse for yelling at Jack, even though he did deserve it. “If you’ll give me the doctor’s prescription, I’ll go get it filled for you,” she said quietly.

“Forget it. The stuff made me too groggy.”

“How do you know? You haven’t even taken it yet.”

“They gave me one at the hospital. I’ve got some over-the-counter stuff around here someplace. I’ll take a couple of those.”

“You bet you will,” she said, spying the bottle of analgesics near the kitchen sink. “What would you like to drink with it? Water or soda?”

“I’d say beer, if you’d gotten the right brand.”

“You’re not supposed to drink beer when taking these,” she told him. “Where do you keep your glasses?” she asked as she searched through the cabinets.

“I don’t have any right now. Just give me the can of soda.”

She did.

Jack took the pills, tilting back his head as he drank half the can in one go. He knew she was watching him. She’d been watching him since he’d gotten out of the shower. But there was a wariness in her gaze that didn’t sit well with him. Never one to beat around the bush, Jack said, “So who was the guy who gave you such a warped view of men?”

“I don’t have a warped view of men,” she immediately denied. “If anything, I have a clearer view than most.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I was married.”

“I guessed that much. And now you’re...?”

“Divorced.” She reached for another bag of groceries, noting that the chocolate mint ice cream had almost melted. Normally she had a system to putting away groceries, one that involved putting away the perishables first. But Jack’s appearance, half-naked and still dripping from his shower, had flustered her.

“What happened?”

“What do you mean what happened?” she repeated, worrying that he’d noticed the melting ice cream and somehow guessed he was the reason for it.

“With your marriage.”

“I’d rather not talk about it.”

“You’re not over him yet?”

“What makes you say that?”

“The look in your eyes. Kitten blue eyes. Ah, now they’re going all frosty. And when you laugh, they kind of shimmer.”

“I’ll bet you say that to all your girlfriends,” she declared before realizing what company that put her in. “Not that I’m one of your girlfriends,” she hurriedly clarified.

“Not yet,” Jack murmured.

“Not ever.” Pulling her scattered thoughts together, Kayla reached into her purse. “The bank put a rush on getting your new checks in. Until then, here are some temporary checks. The cash you wanted with your ATM card is in this envelope. And here’s the receipt for the groceries—the total was seventy-three sixteen. You can make me out a check for that.” She handed him the temporary checks, receipt and a pen.

“How do I make it out?” he asked.

“To Errands Unlimited. And don’t forget to call your friends back. You know, Misty and the gang....”

“They can wait. First I’m calling Vito’s Pizza for dinner.”

“Are you going to be okay here tonight?”

“Why?” Jack countered. “Are you offering to stay with me?”

“No. Misty and the gang were more than willing to come over and hold your hand.”

He shot her a devilish smile, one that was slow and sultry. “They just have a thing for a man in a uniform.”

“You’re not in a uniform now,” she noted with a telling look at his bare legs.

“So you noticed.”

“It’s hard not to,” she muttered. “Aren’t you cold?”

“No. Are you?”

Since she was fanning herself with the grocery receipt, she could hardly say yes. Instead she said, “I’m not the one wearing shorts.”

“More’s the pity,” Jack replied, his gaze traveling down her legs.

It was all Kayla could do not to tug on the hem of her skirt. The look he’d just given her made her feel as if she were wearing black fishnet stockings instead of perfectly respectable tights. “I’m leaving,” she firmly declared. “You’re clearly too stubborn to have anything happen to you, so I’m sure you’ll be fine on your own.” Not that she thought he’d be on his own very long.

“Hey, come back tomorrow and we’ll do this again,” Jack called out after her.

The sound of the door slamming was his only reply.

“So, buddy, tell me again why I had to spend my morning off patching this hole in your wall? Or maybe we should start with how you put a hole in the wall in the first place,” Boomer Laudermilk told Jack the next morning. Boomer was a ten-year veteran of the Chicago Fire Department, the same as Jack, and was one of Jack’s closest friends.

“It was a simple misunderstanding,” Jack replied.

“Yeah, right. Like the time the captain caught you short-sheeting his bed.”

“Something like that.”

“Which still doesn’t tell me much.”

“I smashed the tip of my crutch through the wallboard.”

Boomer’s bushy, blond eyebrow lifted almost to his hairline. “In a bad mood, were you?”

“I thought she was breaking in—”

Boomer interrupted him. “She? You didn’t tell me there was a woman involved. Man, I shoulda guessed. There’s always a woman involved where you’re concerned. So what happened this time? You fall for a female cat burglar?”

“I haven’t fallen for anyone! Certainly not a bossy errand girl named Kayla, even if she does have the best legs I’ve ever seen and incredibly big baby blue eyes that show her every emotion.”

“Uh-oh, buddy, this doesn’t sound good.”

“She’s got a kid,” Jack declared, as if that said it all.

“Is that a problem?”

Jack shrugged.

“Don’t your parents run a day care center?” Boomer asked.

Jack nodded.

“Then I’d think you’d be used to kids.”

“You’d think wrong. My folks are good with kids. Not me.”

“So what are you going to do about this Kayla woman you’re not falling for?” Boomer asked.

“Damned if I know.”

Kayla was running late when she got to Jack’s apartment Thursday afternoon. It didn’t help that she’d had to stop three places before finding Jack’s stupid imported ale and the right brand of salted beer nuts. On her way out yesterday, she’d given Ernie the Doorman the rejects. Ernie had responded by smiling at her, or at least she’d assumed the slight movement at the corner of his mouth was a smile—he wasn’t exactly the demonstrative type.

Now Jack was another matter entirely. He certainly let you know how he was feeling. She’d called a cleaning service to stop by this morning, only to have them call her back and say that Jack had thrown a fit and refused to let them in. It had taken Kayla fifteen minutes to calm down the cleaning service owner, a necessity since Kayla often worked with them. No, she was not feeling kindly toward Jack at the moment.

And those feelings took another nosedive when she saw the note taped to his front door. It had her name on it, as well as the name of the pizza place around the corner. Apparently Jack didn’t believe in using blank paper for writing when he could make do with odds and ends.

Along with her name, he’d written half a dozen errands for her to run—including buying a five-dollar lotto ticket, picking up the latest video releases, buying a package of men’s white jockey shorts in size thirty-four as well as a bottle of pricy perfume.

It sounded as if the man had something special planned.

So why did that bother her? Why should she care what he did with Misty or Mandy or any other woman? She didn’t care. It just irked her that he’d written the note as if she were a peon and he the great lord ordering her about. Not to mention her aggravation at the way he’d treated the cleaning service people this morning, after she’d gone to all that trouble to get him squeezed in. If Jack thought she was cleaning up after him, he was sadly mistaken.

She rang the bell and pounded on the door. When that got no response, she was about to get out her key when Jack finally answered the door. Seeing how pale he was, she asked, “What happened to you?”

“What do you mean what happened to me?” he growled. “I broke my damned stupid leg, that’s what happened. And then I was kept up most of the night with women calling me, trying out their phone-nurse routines, asking me what I’d do if I couldn’t work as a firefighter anymore. What the hell kind of question is that to ask a man?”

Since he was weaving on the crutches like a drunken sailor on shore leave, Kayla said, “Maybe you should sit down—”

“I’m fine,” he growled.

“You don’t have to snap my head off,” she said, inexplicably hurt by his curtness. “I was just trying to help you...”

“I don’t need any help.” His words were gritty with anger and frustration. This was only his third day in the cast and already he was going nuts.

“Right. I can tell you’re doing just peachy on your own,” Kayla mockingly noted, waving her hand at the living room strewn with clothes, newspapers, dirty dishes and empty bottles and cans. “Why did you send away the cleaning people?”

“Because I don’t want strangers around. Besides, I told you I hate people fussing over me,” he growled.

“Yes, well, I hate people fainting on me,” she retorted, “and that’s what you’re going to do if you don’t take it easy.”

“I’ve never passed out in my life.”

“There’s always a first time, big boy.”

“Listen, little girl,” Jack shot back, “don’t order me around!”

“Hey, don’t yell at me because your girlfriends kept you up all night” was her immediate comeback.

An x-rated reply was on the tip of his tongue, but he bit it back because the truth was that Kayla had been the one who had kept him up all night—in every sense of the word. Jack hadn’t been able to get her off his mind and that was driving him out of his mind.

“That wasn’t yelling. THIS IS YELLING,” he shouted, working up a good head of steam. “If this is the way you treat your other clients, I’m surprised you’re not out of business. You couldn’t even buy a simple bottle of beer and some beer nuts without screwing up!”

Kayla didn’t care if this job might lead to good things for her company, nobody was going to talk to her that way! “If you don’t stop yelling at me, I’m going to break your other leg!”

“This isn’t going to work,” Jack declared. “I’m going to hire someone else.”

“You didn’t hire me, your Uncle Ralph did.”

Jack waved her words away as if they were of no importance. “I’ll get someone else.”

“Good luck. You’re so impossible no one would work for you! Your uncle warned me about you.”

“Yeah, well, he didn’t warn me about you. He should have known better. He knows I don’t like bossy women.”

“You want to hire someone else? Fine. I’ll even help you find them,” Kayla stated, her anger fiery hot at his accusation that she was bossy. Retrieving her ever-handy notebook from her oversize purse, she said, “I’ll write up the help-wanted ad for you. Let’s see... how about ‘impossible, irritable, arrogant man looking for blindly devoted slave to run errands for him at any time of the day or night. Salary—not enough. Benefits—none. No appreciation, no courtesy.’”

“Wrong. The ad should read ‘Good-looking, smart, good-natured guy with great sense of humor looking for temporary help. Emotional types need not apply.’”

“Emotional types?” she repeated in disbelief. “I’m not emotional! You’re just impossible! You’d try the patience of a saint.”

“You’re claiming to be a saint?”

“Of course not. If I were, I wouldn’t be irritated by your preposterous demands and outlandish expectations....”

“Irritated? Oh, I think you went past irritated some time ago,” Jack retorted. “Try furious and bossy.”

“Stop calling me bossy!”

“Or what?” he taunted her.

Too furious to say another word, she turned to leave.

Afterward Kayla couldn’t be sure if Jack reached out a hand to prevent her from leaving...or to open the door to boot her out.

Either way, he tottered on his crutches and ended up flattening her against the closed door—tumbling her into his arms.