That McCloud Woman (13 page)

But
first he had to finish the job he'd started.

He'd
given his word.

Jack
didn't consider himself a thoughtful man, or a generous one, for that matter.
The idea of giving a woman a present rarely passed through his mind. But on
this particular morning, as he made the short walk to the Pond House, a gift
was what pressed uppermost on his mind. Though the gift he was considering had
no monetary value, to his way of thinking, it was priceless.

Before
he left, he was going to give Alayna back her sexuality, her self-confidence.

How
he was going to go about giving her this gift, he wasn't exactly sure. But he'd
figure out a way. He owed her. Well, maybe not him, exactly. The debt wasn't so
much his, as it was life's. And life owed her big time.

Alayna
was a kindhearted woman, who, in his estimation, had gotten a raw deal. She had
a heart filled with love and kindness, and she seemed hell-bent on offering
that kindness to every stray that showed up at her door.

Including
him.

But
what she really wanted—and needed, in Jack's opinion—was a houseful of kids of
her own. He knew that she wanted children. She'd told him so herself. But she'd
never have those children if she didn't get over this crazy notion that she was
no good at sex.

When
he approached the kitchen door, he feared there might be an awkwardness between
them, considering how the night before they'd touched on that one subject that
seemed to cause her so much embarrassment. But she met him at the door with the
same smile she had greeted him with every other day since she'd hired him.

"Good
morning, Jack!" She held the door wide and looked up at the sky, her eyes
shining with appreciation. "Isn't it a beautiful day?"

It
could have been storming for all the notice Jack had given the weather. He
glanced up to find a clear blue sky, its radiant color broken only by wisps of
clouds threaded through. But all he noticed was that the sky was almost the
same hue as Alayna's eyes. He dropped his gaze to hers, to verify his
assumption. "Yeah. It's beautiful all right."

She
waved him in. "You're early. The kids haven't even left for school,
yet."

Jack
shook his head as he caught the door and followed Alayna inside. He hadn't
realized until that moment that she'd been aware of his carefully staged
arrivals at the house in order to avoid being around the kids.

He
held up the bear. "I thought Molly might want to take Teddy to school with
her."

Alayna's
lips parted in surprise. "Jack. How sweet. Just a minute," she said,
and turned. "Molly!" she called. "Someone is here to see
you."

"Who?"
But before Alayna could answer, Molly was barreling into the kitchen, her
cheeks as pink as the new tennis shoes she wore. Billy was fast on her heels.

Molly
skidded to a stop when she saw Jack, her eyes going wide. But this time Jack
found no fear in them. He sank down to one knee in front of her and held out
the bear. "Thanks, Molly, for the loan."

Hesitantly
she reached out to stroke the bear's face. "You can keep him, if you
want."

His
heart in his throat, Jack pressed the bear into her hands, then crooked a
finger to smooth a knuckle against her cheek. "Thanks for the offer, but I
think Teddy misses you."

A
slow smile spread across Molly's face. "Really?" She held Teddy out
and looked at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of love and awe. A horn
honked and she quickly tucked the bear under arm. "That's Jaime," she
said with a sudden rush of breath. "He hates it if we make him wait."
She popped a quick kiss on Jack's cheek, then whirled and raced for the front
door. "Bye, Alayna. Bye, Jack," she called over her shoulder.

Billy
hooked his backpack over his shoulder. He gave Jack a high five, then grinned.
"See ya, dude."

Jack
slowly rose, watching the two disappear. "Yeah," he murmured,
touching a shaky hand to his cheek and the kiss Molly had left there. "See
ya."

Jack
worked alongside Alayna throughout the morning, painting one of the upstairs
bedrooms—and watched her out of the corner of his eye.

He
hung a new clothes rod in the closet he'd enlarged—and frowned at her back.

He
snatched up his paintbrush again—and all but screamed his frustration.

He
couldn't help himself. The only way he could think to prove to Alayna that she
wasn't sexually deficient, was to seduce her, and he wasn't willing to go that
far. Besides, even if he was willing, Alayna didn't appear to be the type of
woman who would tumble into bed with a man just for the sport of it. And he
sure as hell didn't want her drawing any false assumptions from his actions. He
cared too much for her to want to do anything that might cause her pain when
the time came for him to leave.

And
Jack
was
leaving. Just as soon as he finished the remodeling job … and
as soon as he figured out a way to give Alayna the gift he wanted to give her.

He
glanced her way and frowned. She sure as hell wasn't helping matters any.
Throughout the morning, she had worked alongside him all innocence and smiles,
telling him stories about her childhood, and throwing in funny little things
that Billy and Molly had said or done over the weeks. And the more she talked
and smiled, the madder Jack became. How was a man supposed to broach a woman
about her sexuality when she was acting like Little Miss Mary Sunshine?

Finally,
after three hours of silently stewing, waiting for an opportunity that didn't
come, Jack slapped his brush across the top of the open can of paint and left
it there.

Alayna
turned to peer at him curiously. "Problem?"

"No,"
he snapped irritably. "Paint's getting thick. Needs some thinner."

He
stepped behind her, and out of her line of vision, then folded his arms across
his chest and glared at her as she gave her shoulder a "whatever"
lift then went back to her painting. For the life of him, he couldn't figure
out a way to approach her, or why he felt this undeserved anger toward her. It
wasn't as if she
knew
what he was wanting to do.

It's
the clothes, he finally decided, needing to put the blame for his anger
somewhere. She was wearing a man's tailored shirt again, and those same baggy
pants she'd worn the first day they'd worked side by side in the breakfast
room.

He
frowned as he moved his gaze over the baggy shirt, noting the perspiration that
dampened the fabric between her shoulder blades and dotted the bumpy line of
her spine. With the air-conditioning off and the open windows letting out paint
fumes, but letting in heat, she had to be sweltering under all that garb.

Hell,
he was, and he'd stripped off his shirt hours ago!

But
then Alayna always wore a lot of clothes, no matter what the temperature. Those
stupid, shapeless dresses that covered her from neck to calf. The baggy shirts
and pants. Nothing he'd ever seen her in offered a hint to the woman beneath.
Well, other than that blue robe of hers, but he didn't figure that counted in
the scheme of things, since he'd only seen her in it that one time.

But
the fact that she was always covered from neck to toe didn't prevent him from
remembering what she felt like beneath all those clothes. The feel of her
breast in his hand, small, but firm, her nipple, when aroused, as hard as a
ripe berry.

And
her taste. He ran his tongue over his upper lip at the memory. Sweet. Innocent.
Yet, hot and carnal. An unlikely combination, but there, all the same.

And
she considered herself lacking in the sex department. Humph!

He
narrowed his eyes at her, wondering if her choice of clothing had anything to
do with the image of herself that her ex had left her with.

"Why
do you wear so damn many clothes?" The question was out before he realized
he'd even intended to voice it.

Startled
by his question, she twisted her head around to look at him, then lifted a
shoulder and went back to her painting. "Why advertise if you have nothing
to sell?"

"Who
said anything about advertising or selling? I'd think you'd be more
comfortable, not to mention cooler, if you dressed in something with a little
less—well, with a little less fabric," he said in frustration.

"I'm
comfortable."

"Yeah,
and you'd be a hell of a lot more comfortable if you weren't so damn
stubborn." He caught her by the shoulder and spun her around. Caught
unsuspecting, Alayna dropped her brush and braced her hands against his chest,
struggling for balance.

When
he reached for the hem of her shirt, her mouth and eyes gaped wide. "What
are you doing?" she cried.

"What
you won't do." He unbuttoned the bottom four buttons, then quickly caught
up the shirt's tails and tied them in a knot under her breasts. He stepped
back, eyeing the results, then dipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out
his knife.

Her
eyes widened even more as she watched him snap open the blade with the flick of
a nail. "What are you—" But before she could fully voice the
question, he had a hold of her wrist, pulling her arm out to shoulder level.
"Giving you some air." Catching the fabric at her shoulder and
holding it out away from her skin, he stuck the knife into the seam and ripped
upward, making a good-size slit in the cotton. Ignoring her cry of dismay, he
kept a grip on the sleeve while he calmly pressed the backside of the blade
against his thigh and closed his knife. He slipped it back into his pocket,
then, without warning, gave the sleeve a hard jerk, ripping the fabric and
severing the sleeve at the seam.

He
felt the shiver that shuddered through her and watched gooseflesh pebble the
patch of damp skin he'd exposed to the air. He shifted his gaze to hers, then
slowly dragged the sleeve down her arm, watching her blue eyes darken and
smolder. He dropped the torn fabric to the floor. "Better?"

With
her arm free now, Alayna rubbed a hand up and down it, but was unable to move
her gaze from Jack's. Never in her life had she endured anything as sensual, as
utterly seductive, as what she had just experienced at his hand. Though he'd
exposed only one arm, she felt naked, bare, utterly aroused … and as
tongue-tied as a schoolgirl. "Y-yes, th-thank you."

He
lifted his hands to cup her shoulders, and squeezed, his fingers digging into
the skin he'd bared. "You can't hide your sexuality," he told her,
his voice husky, his brown eyes burning into hers, "any more than you can
deny it."

Lost
in the emotion that turned his brown eyes almost black, she stared unblinking.
She wanted to say something, to do something totally insane, like throw her arms
around his neck and kiss him senseless.

But
then his hands were gone, and he was turning away, and the opportunity was
gone. She closed her eyes and pressed a hand to her throat. Her pulse pounded
beneath her shaking fingers.

Oh, God,
she cried silently.
Did You send
Jack to taunt me with my inadequacies? Or to teach me how to overcome them?

She
opened her eyes in time to hear the back door close behind him.

Oh,
how she hoped he was there to teach.

Jack
stalked his way to the barn, stepped inside, then slammed the door closed
behind him. He grabbed a shovel propped against the wall and hurled it across
the room. It hit the far wall with a loud
thunk,
then fell
to the ground with a clatter.

But
the action didn't relieve Jack's frustration.

"Damn!"
he swore, digging his fingers through his hair. "Damn, damn, damn!"
He sank to the ground, bracing his elbows on his propped knees, his fingers
still knotted in his hair. What had he been thinking? What had made him do such
an utterly stupid thing? Grabbing Alayna like that. Ripping her shirtsleeve
off.

He
heaved a frustrated breath and fell back against the barn wall, dropping his
arms to hook them over his knees. Another five seconds and he'd have been
kissing her. No, hell, he'd have had her on the floor and been making love to
her!

And
what a mistake that would've been. With all the hang-ups Alayna had about men
and sex, in his present state, Jack would have scared the hell out of her.

And
he didn't want to scare her. He didn't want to add to her problems. He wanted
to help her. But how? he asked himself. How was he going to help her when every
time he looked at her, he wanted to grab her and kiss her senseless?

Think,
Cordell, think! he ordered himself. There's got to be a way.

"—then
Merideth ran to Daddy and tattled on us and we all got in trouble."

"I
did not tattle," Merideth cried indignantly, insulted by Mandy's
accusation.

Sam
merely laughed.

"Yes,
you did," Mandy insisted. "You
always
tattled,
didn't she, Alayna?" she asked, turning to her cousin for confirmation.