Texas Pride (8 page)

I
t took Jessica the next four days to strip bare the hardwood floor in the hotel lobby. She was thankful for work that kept her hands and mind occupied, despite the fact that her back ached and her hands were rubbed raw from the vibration of the sander. Still, anything was better than letting her mind wander to Dylan.

Pushing the goggles she wore onto the top of her head, she stepped back and admired the bare oak planks. There was a fine layer of sawdust on everything, including herself. Especially herself, she decided, looking down at her jeans and what had been a pink blouse.

“Nice job.”

Startled, she turned abruptly at the sound of Dylan's voice. He stood in the doorway behind her, arms folded, scanning her work with a critical eye.

Except for meals, she'd seen very little of him for the past four days. He'd surprised her two days ago by installing an electric stove he'd bought at a secondhand store in Cactus Flat. She'd complained it disrupted the antiquity of the kitchen. He told her she could bury it if she wanted after he left, but until he was gone, the stove stayed. Needless to say, the quality of the food had improved considerably.

“Thanks.” She accepted his compliment, knowing how rare words of praise were from Dylan. The man was a perfectionist, she'd realized after watching him work, and expected the same from the men who worked for him. But the church was slowly taking shape, and its original beauty returning.

“Have the men gone home already?” she asked.

He nodded. “I let them go a little early. They hustled this week and we're already ahead of schedule.”

Jessica watched Dylan comb his hair away from his face with his hands.
It's not fair,
she thought. After a hard day's work, with dirt on his clothes and sweat on his face and arms, he still looked good. She looked like a wood-shop cat.

She brushed some of the sawdust from her arms and tugged the goggles from her head. “Dinner's going to be a little late tonight. The chicken wasn't thawed.”

“I'm sorry, Jessica. I forgot to tell you I won't be here tonight. I'm going into town.”

She felt like an idiot when disappointment shot through her. Of course he wouldn't be here tonight. It was Friday. He'd go into town with the other guys and do what single men did on Friday night, which usually included beer and female company. Cactus Flat might be a small town, but there were plenty of women who'd be happy to keep a man like Dylan company. He probably wouldn't come back all weekend.

But whatever Dylan did with his leisure time was certainly his business, she told herself. She just prayed she wouldn't have to hear about it from one of the town gossips.

“No problem.” She gave a shrug and shook sawdust from her hair. “It won't go to waste.”
Not if I have to eat the whole damn thing myself.

“You sure?” he asked.

“Of course.” She'd made a chocolate cake earlier, too, to celebrate the first week of construction. She decided to eat that by herself, as well.

“Look, I can go to town a little later. It's really not—”

“Dylan, for heaven's sake, don't think about it. Go to town.”

His jaw flexed. “All right. You need anything while I'm there?”

She shook her head, then tucked her hair behind her ears. “I'm going in tomorrow to do some Christmas shopping.”

He frowned, then stepped in front of her. “Let me see your hands.”

“What?”

“Your hands.” He reached out and took her wrists, then pulled her toward him. His frown deepened as he stared at her red palms. “Why weren't you wearing gloves?”

It was only a touch, not even an intimate one, but still her heart was hammering so loud she thought for sure Dylan would hear. “I'm fine,” she said tightly, and tried to pull away. He held firm.

“You need to put something on this to ease the burning,” he said, his voice strangely rough.

She'd have to put something on her entire body, Jessica thought. She felt hot all over, inside and out, and she doubted that anything other than the man holding her could ever ease that.

His thumbs moved gently over her wrists, then her palms. The heat built until she felt limp. Self-preservation had her pulling away. “I'll take care of it.”

He stared at her for what felt like hours, though it was only a few seconds. “See that you do.”

He moved past her, up the stairs and into his room. She closed her eyes and let out a long breath.
Forget the chicken,
she thought. She was heading straight for the chocolate cake.

* * *

A three-quarter moon hung low in the sky by the time Dylan cut the engine on his bike and cruised quietly into Makeshift. It was barely past nine, hardly what a bachelor would consider late, but he'd been anxious to get back for two hours.

Hell, he'd been anxious to get back before he'd even left.

He wouldn't have gone at all if he hadn't promised to meet Jared and Jake. They all knew it was risky trying to talk with Jessica around, so they'd arranged a coincidental we-just-ran-into-each-other meeting at the Rock Slide Bar. Dylan had been relieved when both Jake and Jared had left early, but when one of the crew spotted him in the smoke-filled bar he'd been forced into hanging out for a while longer.

Removing his helmet, he looked up at the hotel and saw that the only light came from her room. He frowned. Jessica rarely went to her room this early. In fact, she was usually up half the night. He often heard her talking to Hannibal or listening to music on the radio. Too often he'd found himself staring mindlessly at the set of blueprints he'd been working on, wondering what she was doing, or even worse, what she was wearing. He'd lost count of the pencil tips he'd broken during those thoughts.

With a long sigh, he raked his fingers through his hair and went into the quiet hotel. He knew it was for the best that she'd retreated. During the day it was easy to avoid her, especially with all the crew around.

It was the nights that preyed on him, made him think about things he shouldn't think about, want things he shouldn't want. Seeing Jake and Jared tonight was a fresh reminder that she was out-of-bounds, and for that, he was glad he'd gone to town. He definitely needed a memory jolt when it came to Jessica and why he was here.

He made his way silently through the darkness into the kitchen. He hadn't eaten in town. After thinking about the dinner Jessica said she was preparing, the greasy fries and hot dogs at the bar hadn't appealed to him.
I'm getting soft,
he decided, but started for the refrigerator, anyway, hoping there might be leftovers, then froze when something cold and wet brushed his hand.

Hannibal.

Laughing at himself, Dylan bent down to pet the dog. “How you doing, boy?” Dylan ruffled the animal's fur. “Jessica asleep already?”

That was when he heard the voices.

He stopped, listening carefully. A man's voice. And a woman's. Talking softly. Not loud enough to hear the words, but the tone and inflection were definitely amorous.

He squinted into the darkness, straining to make out what was being said and where it was coming from. Upstairs, he decided, and slowly moved out of the kitchen toward the stairs. Hannibal padded alongside him, unconcerned, though Dylan was certain the dog heard the voices, as well.

Dylan stood at the base of the stairs. He heard the soft sound of a feminine laugh.

No wonder she'd practically pushed him out the door earlier this evening. She'd been expecting someone. There was a man up there now. Were they in bed? A slow unreasonable fury began to build in him. Whoever it was, it obviously was someone Hannibal knew, or he wouldn't have left Jessica alone.

Fists clenched, Dylan moved up the stairs. He should have stayed in town, he told himself. There'd been a cute blonde who'd tried repeatedly to catch his eye. And a curvy redhead who'd sidled up next to him when he'd been talking to Jared. He could have had a few laughs and relieved a little stress with either one of those ladies.

But much to his irritation, every time he'd looked at the blonde or redhead, all he saw was a blue-eyed brunette covered with sawdust wearing plastic goggles on her head.

He resisted the temptation to stomp up the stairs and, instead, moved quietly into his room. He heard music now. Classical. Soft and low, with violins. Vivaldi, he thought. It came from Jessica's room.

Dammit! Who was in there with her?

He paced, and the sudden absence of voices had him grinding his teeth. Hannibal sat in the middle of the floor and watched him stride back and forth.

Dylan thought about leaving. Just getting on his bike and going back to town. It was certainly none of his business if Jessica had company. Nor was it any of his business what they were doing.

The silence made his stomach knot. He did have an obligation to make sure she was all right, he reasoned. That's why he was here, after all, whether she knew it or not.

He moved into the bathroom that separated their rooms. Jessica's door to the bathroom was ajar, and a faint light spilled over the wood floor.
Get the hell out of here,
he argued with himself.

His fingers were stiff as he slowly opened Jessica's door wider and looked into the room.

She sat on the edge of the bed, one long bare leg stretched out across the quilt, the other bare leg bent at the knee. Her head was bowed as she leaned forward, her hair a curtain across her face. She had a small bottle in her hand and was dabbing at her toenails.

Confused, Dylan quickly scanned the room. Unless the guy had hidden under the bed, she was alone.

He looked back at her and his heart stopped.

She wore silk. An ivory chemise that shimmered in the pale glow of the oil lamp. Mesmerized, he watched her slender fingers carefully brush red polish over each toenail. He knew he should turn away, but it was beyond his ability. His gaze moved over her long legs. Her skin looked like porcelain, and he curled his fingers at the thought of running his hand up the curve of her hip and over her breasts.

He stood in the middle of a tug-of-war, the captivating sight of Jessica pulling him in one direction, reason and decency pulling him in the other. A woman had never made him feel like this before. A need rose in him so intense, so desperate, he no longer felt in control.

Her head tilted, and he could see her face now. She'd captured her bottom lip between her teeth. He nearly groaned at the seductive gesture. He had to get out of here. Now.

That was when she glanced up at him.

Her eyes widened, and her lips parted as she stared back at him. “Dylan?” Her voice was no more than a strained whisper.

Dammit. Dammit.
He felt like a Peeping Tom. Hell, he
was
a Peeping Tom.

“I'm sorry,” he said hoarsely, surprised he was able to speak at all. “I heard voices.”

She capped the bottle in her hand and set it on the nightstand. With one fluid movement she swung her legs off the bed and reached for a floral robe behind her.

“A man and woman?”

Her breasts pressed against her chemise as she pulled the robe on, and the outline of her nipples against the thin silk made his throat as dry as the pile of sawdust on the hotel-lobby floor. Rather than croak a reply, he simply nodded.

“Meggie and Lucas,” she said, cinching the belt of her robe. “They spend a lot of time here at the hotel, usually in the room at the end of the hall.”

Her statement brought him slowly out of the fog he'd felt captured in. She was talking about her ghosts. Here, in the hotel. If her expression hadn't been so serious, he might have laughed. She reached over and flipped off the radio beside her bed when a commercial came on. He realized it was the radio he'd heard before, but if Jessica wanted to believe it was ghosts, he wouldn't argue.

He decided that even if Jessica was a bit strange, she was still beautiful. The soft light framed her slender form on the bed, and he felt an overwhelming need to touch her, to feel her under him as he laid her back on that bed and covered her body with his.

He looked around the room again, searching the corners. “I thought you had someone up here with you.”

“In my bedroom?”

He moved into the room, though he only dared a step. “I heard a man's voice.”

She raised an eyebrow. “So you assumed I had a man in my bed.”

“I just wanted to make sure you're all right, that's all.” He knew he had no business questioning her on her private life, but somehow that thought didn't stop him. She met his steady gaze, and his body flooded with heat. He was treading on thin ice here, and if he wasn't careful, he'd fall through. It took every ounce of concentration to keep from staring at her legs or thinking about what she was wearing under that robe.

It took every ounce of Jessica's concentration to keep from shaking like a leaf. Dylan had startled her when she'd looked up and found him watching her, but the look in his eyes had been far more disturbing than his unexpected appearance. For a moment the look had been wild, like a predator's. Then he'd glanced away, and when he looked back his expression was controlled again, unreadable. Still, her heart raced, and she struggled desperately for composure.

“I'm fine, Dylan,” she said quietly. “Other than the fact you just scared me half to death. I didn't expect you back from town until tomorrow.”

He frowned. “Why?”

“You
are
single.”

“Oh.” He looked at her. “I guess we both assume a lot about each other, Jessica. I'll let you know when I'm staying in town.”

“All right.” She nodded. “And I'll let you know when I have company.”

A muscle twitched in Dylan's jaw. “You do that.”

“And if you decide to bring a
guest
back here,” she said, “just warn me.”

It was all Dylan could do not to show Jessica exactly what he did with a
guest
in his bedroom. What did she think? That they were roommates, for God's sake?