Mr. Predictable: Mr. Predictable / Too Many Cooks. Carol FinchЧитать онлайн книгу.
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