Luck of the Draw (A Betting on Romance Novel Book 1) (29 page)

“No.” Her expression grew pensive as she glanced away, her cheeks tinting pink. “I suppose not.”

“So you’ve thought about it, too?” She met his gaze. “Was this before or after you kissed me while I was asleep?”

Her face flamed, but he had to give her credit. She didn’t look away this time. “It was a medicinal kiss.”

“I’ve heard that before.”

She laughed and he felt himself returning her smile. “I just wanted to, okay? I thought Liam was in the kitchen, and you were so incredibly...”

“Yes?”

“...good-looking.”

“Wow. Last time I checked I was only cute.”

She laughed. “Yes, well, we’ve known each other nearly three episodes now. I’ve had time to reevaluate.”

“Very clever. If I scoff at you about your show now, my ego will have to admit you haven’t had time to judge my good looks either.”

She chuckled, but when she met his eyes, her smile faded.

“Hey,” he said, “I was only joking.”

“I know.”

“Why the frown?”

She let out a soft sigh. “Because I’m enjoying your company more than I should.”

“So we’re back to that.”

“Jim, you’ve just gotten out of a bad relationship—”

“
Five months ago.”

“Still. You don’t want to get involved with
—”

“Would you let me decide what I want?” He pushed a frustrated hand into his hair.

Kate pressed her lips together. Christ, he even found
that
sexy. “You deserve someone… uncomplicated. Someone who doesn’t have enough baggage to sink the Titanic without the iceberg.”

He stood up. “You mean I deserve someone who knows what she wants and doesn’t push me away with one hand and pull me toward her with the other?”

“Yes,” she said quietly. “That’s exactly what I mean.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
____________________

“S
O, WERE YOU THINKING SOMETHING more serious or, um, relaxed?”

Two days later, Kate gripped her camera like a shield before her. What had she been thinking? Jeff Dayton
—a guy she barely knew—was standing on her porch this very moment expecting—what? How had she become the local boudoir photographer anyway?

And, somehow, seeing Jeff in casual clothes instead of his usual uniform only stressed how little she knew about him. He wore a pair of old jeans, sneakers and a concert T-shirt from a heavy metal band you couldn’t pay her to see. Sure, he seemed more approachable now, but somehow more dangerous, like the clean-cut hitchhiker you aren’t supposed to pick up that turns into a serial killer. Maybe she shouldn’t have sent Liam off with Nana. It would have been nice to have backup. Or witnesses.

“Not sure,” he said in answer to her question. He shrugged. Wow. Those were broad shoulders. He could probably bury her in the back yard in under an hour with shoulders like that.

“Maybe we should just start with a few poses to get a feel for what might work,” she said, stepping away from the door.

He trailed her down the steps into the yard. Stopped. She glanced around. What next? “Why don’t we start here on the steps? The light’s good for now, and we can see what might work.”

“You want me to stand or sit?”

“Whatever feels comfortable.”

He sat on the top step, hands clasped between his knees. Kate snapped a couple pictures.

“So, how are you liking Sugar Falls?” he asked.

“It’s beautiful. Very relaxing. And everyone’s been so welcoming.”

He nodded and turned, presumably to give her another angle.
Click. Click.
“The Pearsons are good people,” he said.

“They’ve been very generous to me.” Kate stepped a little to her right and snapped another picture.

“I heard Rachel and Doug are thinking of moving back to town,” he said.

Kate winced as he crossed his arms across his chest. It was a look that would rattle a witness, but it wouldn’t sell many calendars. “Yes. They’re very excited.”

“Did she say that?” He grimaced. Kate made a mental note to delete that picture.

“I’m guessing she’s happy they’ll be closer to family and all once the baby is born. You heard she was expecting, right?” she asked.

“Yeah. Jim told me. Great news. She deserves to be happy. Both of them do.”

“How about we try some with you standing now?” Jeff rose to his feet and a hanging planter knocked him in the head. “Maybe you could stand near the bottom step for these.”

He brushed a couple flower petals from his hair. “Good idea.” He turned and posed, his chin tucked down, smile taut.

Kate reluctantly took the picture.

“Have you been friends with the Pearsons for long?” she asked.

“Went to school with Jim.” His mouth turned up at the corner slightly. “Dated Grace for a while, but that’s ancient history.”

“I guess I’d heard that.” Kate took another couple shots just so he’d think they were getting somewhere, but knowing none were worth keeping. She needed to get him to lighten up. But how? “Okay, enough on the porch. Let’s switch gears.”

He stood again, casual, relaxed, hands in pockets. She snapped a quick pic even though he wasn’t looking at her but longingly out over the water. “Let’s think of a different background. Do you like to swim? Go boating?”

“Not really. I fish.”

“Oh! Maybe we can work with that. Do have any poles or gear we could add to the shot?”

“In my truck.”

“Great.” This was turning out to be harder than she thought. She sighed with relief when another car pulled into the drive.

Rachel hopped out. “Hey, I was just killing some time while Doug was—oh
.
Oh
, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had company.” Her eyes darted between Jeff and Kate.

“I’m helping Jeff do his picture for the calendar.”

Jeff waved with the tackle box he’d just pulled from his truck. “Hi, Rach.”

She nodded stiffly. “Jeff.”

“You’re welcome to—” Kate began, but Rachel was already backing toward her car.

“No, it’s okay. I don’t want to get in the way. I’ll swing by another time.”

Kate’s cell phone rang. She pulled it out of her pocket. “Hello?”

“Kate? It’s Doug. I’m looking for Rachel. Is she there?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact...” Kate paused as Rachel mouthed something and wildly waved her palms back and forth. “She
was
here, but she left.”

Rachel nodded vigorously.

“You want me down by the lake?” Jeff asked at Kate’s elbow.

“Who’s that?” Doug demanded.

“Jeff Dayton. I’m taking his—”

“Jeff’s there?”

Isn’t that what she’d just said? “Yes. I’m taking his calendar photo for—”

Doug blew out a long breath that whistled over the line. “
If
you see Rach, can you let her know I’m done early? She can pick me up any time.”

“Sure. If I see her, I’ll tell her.”

“Thanks. And Kate?”

“Yes?”

Another heavy sigh rattled over the line. “Can you tell her I love her?”

Kate bit her lip. “Sure.”

She slid her phone back in her pocket. “Your husband is done and wants to be picked up.”

“See?” Rachel chirped. “Can’t stay!”

“He also sends his love.”

Rachel stopped, her hand on the top of the car door. “He did?” She paused, her gaze traveling down to where Jeff stood by the shore. “If he calls again. Can you let him know I’ll be there in five minutes?”

“Anything else?”

Rachel’s eyes skittered back to Kate. “Yeah. Send him my love, too.”

“Sure thing.”

After Rachel pulled out, Kate walked down to shore to join Jeff. He cast out his line. Kate took a quick shot. Frowned. Wow. It actually looked good. Natural. Sexy, even, if she said so herself.

“I think this may work, but I hate to say, the T-shirt has to go. Whatever that thing is, it’s scary.”

He glanced down at his chest and genuinely smiled for the first time since arriving. “Scary? We drove all the way to Augusta in a snowstorm to see these guys.”

He set his pole down. “It was Grace’s first concert.” He smiled again, wider this time. “She had the lead singer sign her...” He paused to pull the faded shirt over his head, hiding his face for a moment. “...but I think that’s her story to tell.” He picked up his rod again and turned toward Kate.

Kate bit her lip and raised her camera. “Perfect. Now, cast again. That was a good pose before.”
Click.
“Okay, gently reel in. Yes.
Yes.
Like that.”
Click.
“By the way... nice tattoo.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
____________________

J
IM LOOKED AT THE MOLDING samples he’d laid on his client’s front yard and heaved a sigh of relief. It’d been a long, hot Thursday, and this was his last stop of the day. He’d get a go-ahead from this client, run by the lumber yard in the morning and be at work first thing. It was a nice, easy job, too, replacing all the millwork in the home from crown moldings to door and window casings. The owner had gutted the place when she’d bought it and had been restoring it from the ground up ever since. While he wasn’t general contractor on the job, he was fine with straight-forward carpentry. The owner had even hinted at wanting a custom inglenook in the library.

Jim smiled and hooked a thumb over his shoulder as the door opened. “Ms. Murdock? Hi. Jim Pearson. I have those door casing mock-ups we talked about on the phone. Whenever you’re
—”

“Please! God, no! Ms. Murdock is what people call my mother. Call me Cathy.”

Jim’s client stepped out the side door, her glossy brown hair just brushing the straps of a white tank top. She wore denim cut-offs, but he would bet his new laser level the shirt was silk. Everything the woman had done to restore the 150-year-old lakeside property had been top drawer, right down to the tumbled-granite pavers under their feet. “Then Cathy it is.”

Her left hand briefly covered his as they shook hands, then slid to her side. She walked to where he’d laid out the three molding patterns he’d worked up for her.

“Is this the mahogany?” she asked. She had a throaty, 1940 starlet’s voice and cat-like green eyes rimmed with thick, dark lashes that made her seem like she was flirting shamelessly even when she wasn’t.

“No. That’s the red oak. It’s a native species like you asked about over the phone. It would have been available at the time the cottage was built. Looks nice when given a coat of sheer varnish, but it will darken with age so you might want to keep that in mind.” She stroked a ringless hand over the next choice.  “That, ah, that there is the mahogany. A popular choice for molding. Very stable. Resistant to rot and insects. But, it’s a tropical species. That last design I did in poplar just so you could see the profile.”

“Is that native, too?”

“Yes, but it’s not as hard as the first two. Paints up well. Has a nice, ah, smooth grain.”

She ran her hand along the grain of the wood again. Her eyes were closed.

“You’re right. It
is
smooth.” Her eyes slid open. “But I like the idea of something hard and solid. Something that will last. Something... local.”

There was a sultry, flirty curve to the corner of her mouth as she said that last word. Jim cleared his throat and stood abruptly from where they’d been crouched, sure he’d misconstrued her meaning.

“Anyway, if you let me know which of these you like, I can get the material and start first thing. The rosette, I know is a little more formal, but you don’t have to—”

“Would you like a drink?” she interrupted. “I’m feeling awfully warm out here all of a sudden.”

He nodded. “Ah, sure. If you want something. Anything is—”

“Come and see what you’d like.” She waved for him to follow as she turned and walked down the drive toward the rear porch. A tiny diamond ring sparkled on her pinky toe as she padded up the steps ahead of him. He thought of Kate’s purple toenails. “I’m sure we’ll find something that appeals to you. Wilson’s good about keeping the fridge stocked,” she said.

Wilson?
Oh, right. Ms. Murdock’s—that is, Cathy’s— assistant. Usually Jim dealt with Wilson—whether that was a first or last name, he had no idea. Neither did he know what Cathy did for a living, if anything. He got the impression she enjoyed a healthy trust fund.

Minutes later, Jim found himself perched on a barstool beside her new granite island sipping a Sam Adams as she leaned against the sink. They chatted companionably for a time, the cold beer making a nice cap to a long, hot summer day.

“It’s a shame we haven’t had a chance to meet face-to-face until now.” She smiled warmly.

“You’ve done a wonderful job on the place.”