A Man to Believe In Page 10

  The footwear stood up and turned around, solving the mystery.

  Her big orange cat yawned.

  “Hello, Max,” Jake said with a yawn of his own. He gave the friendly feline a pat on the head, then allowed himself a leisurely stretch. Every muscle in his body protested his action.

  Sometime during the middle of the night he and Cori had pulled out the sofa bed and climbed in, arms and legs tangling together, sheets and blankets hastily pulled up against the cool night air, then tossed aside minutes later when the friction of bare skin against bare skin created more than enough heat to keep them warm. If he hadn’t been so distracted at the time, he might have noticed that the foam mattress beneath them had long ago degenerated to mush and insisted they stay put on the floor, hard as it was. The way the end of the bed threatened to cut off his circulation at his ankles clinched it—next time they’d sleep in his bed.

  Jake drew his lips into a smile. Cori sleeping in his bed. He liked the sound of that. Turning to his side and intending to kiss her awake with the idea, he discovered he was alone. He sat up, leaned back against the bed pillows, and glanced around.

  A stream of sunlight sliced across the flowery sheet covering him, telling him he’d slept far later than usual, even for a Sunday. Not in the least bit surprising, given the fact that he’d dropped off to sleep, exhausted and depleted, shortly before sunrise.

  The popcorn bowl and the empty wine bottle and glasses were no longer on the floor near the fireplace. His suitcoat was draped over the back of the rocking chair, his pants and shirt neatly folded and stacked on the seat, with his cuff links and watch nestled in the center of the pile. His shoes, toes pointed out, socks tucked into the heels, sat on the floor between the rockers. Cori had been up and about for a while, he concluded.

  Linking his hands behind his head, he imagined her—in that short, silky thing he’d seen hanging on the back of the bathroom door—tiptoeing around the room tidying up, trying not to wake him, gathering his belongings together in one spot so he could find them without having to hunt around when he finally dragged himself out of bed.

  It was a soothing picture, a surprisingly intimate picture, one he could grow accustomed to without any effort. Hell, he was already used to it.

  Two days earlier, when he’d decided he would do whatever it took to make Cori a part of his life, he hadn’t stopped to consider the questions that logically followed on the heels of such a decision. Questions like exactly what part did he want her to play in his life? And for how long? This morning he knew the answers.

  He wanted her as his wife.

  Forever.

  Jake blinked. He hadn’t been actively searching for a lifelong partner, but he didn’t doubt he’d found her. For the first time, he’d met a woman he couldn’t imagine living without. And he didn’t intend to. Tossing the covers to the side, he swung his legs to the edge of the bed and planted his feet on the floor.

  Voices, coming from outside, drew his attention. He cocked his head to one side and listened, catching the sound of Cori’s sexy, throaty chuckle. A second later it was joined by unmistakably masculine laughter.

  Jake shot up and reached the rocker in two strides. Not bothering with his underwear, he snatched up his trousers and drew them on before going to the door. He squinted one eye shut and peered out the peephole while fastening his pants.

  The rear-engine compartment of Cori’s Volkswagen was propped open and she was deep in conversation with a man. He could think of only one word to describe the guy: clean.

  His white shirt, sporting a collar Jake would bet had been done with heavy starch, was tucked into a pair of work pants that had a knife-edge crease an army sergeant would praise. His shoes were equally impressive—shiny as a new penny. And the physique. The guy looked more like the lead dancer at Chippendale’s than a licensed tow-truck operator, as the sign on the truck parked a scant inch away from the rear bumper of Jake’s Porsche boasted.

  Jake opened the door, intending to find out what was going on.

  “Chill out, babe,” the guy said. “Bobby will make things primo in no time.”

  Surfer talk, Jake noted, thinking it matched the sun-bleached hair poking from beneath the guy’s snow-white cap. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Jake registered the fact that Cori must have called him to get her car started, but he was more interested in the syrupy, all-too-familiar tone of voice he was using with her. His fingers gripping the doorknob, Jake watched as the guy reached up and draped his arm around her shoulder.

  Letting the door slam behind him, Jake decided he’d seen enough and marched barefoot across the cold pavement to where they stood.

  “Jake Tanner, the lady’s boyfriend,” he said without waiting for Cori to introduce him, and stuck out his hand. As planned, the guy was forced to let go of Cori and shake his hand.

  “Bobby Armstrong, Armstrong Emergency Towing. We go anywhere, anytime. And we don’t strong-arm you into paying a fortune for good service.” He winked, appearing to enjoy his little joke. “Know what I mean?”

  Jake bit back a rude remark about where Bobby could go anytime. “Sure thing, Bobby.”

  Bobby whipped his cap from his head and moved closer to the Volkswagen—and farther away from Cori, Jake noted with a small measure of satisfaction. “Alternator’s a wipe-out. I’ll have to tow her to the shop.”

  Jake reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. “I’ll take care of the lady’s car,” he told the mechanic. “Sorry you came out here for nothing.”

  “Jake”—Cori placed her hand on Jake’s forearm to try to get his attention—“I called Bobby to—”

  “Just go back into the house, Cori. I’ll handle this.”

  “But—”

  He cut off the rest of her sentence with a quick kiss, then turned her around and patted her on the behind before nudging her to the side. “This will take only a minute, sweetheart,” he said, and turned back to face Bobby.

  Her mouth hanging open, she spun around in time to see Jake hand Bobby some money—for his trouble, she heard him say—then apply a firm pressure on Bobby’s back and guide him toward his truck.

  The entire episode couldn’t have taken much more than thirty seconds, and it left her stunned. Had Jake really sent her away with a peck on the lips and a pat on the rear? She felt as though she were caught in a time warp, as though she were starring in an Ozzie and Harriet rerun, only Ozzie wouldn’t have gotten away with that last gesture in front of millions of viewers.

  Her hands clenched into fists as if they could hold in her anger, she began to pace, slanting a glance sideways at Jake as he escorted Bobby to his truck.

  She drew in a deep breath and told herself to calm down. True, the pirate was back—arrogant as ever—but not to stay, not if she had anything to say about it.

  Who did he think he was? First he’d come outside wearing nothing more than a pair of pin-stripe trousers and an overnight’s growth of beard, making it obvious he’d spent the night. Then he’d had the gall to dismiss her, as if she needed him to do the talking for her.

  She couldn’t believe this was happening—the caring, sensitive man she’d made love with last night had been replaced by a tyrant. She hardly recognized them as the same man.

  Abruptly she stopped pacing. No, that wasn’t true. This wasn’t the first—or even the second—time she’d been treated to a demonstration of his I’m-in-control-here way of doing things. There was the Halloween party, the library, the picnic, when he’d talked as though he were the one who should decide who his sister should date. Well, this time she refused to allow him to get away with it.

  Determined to let him know he was out of line, she approached him. Before she could say a word, he wrapped his arms around her, pulled her against him, and lowered his mouth to hers. Turning her head to the side, she pushed hard against him and locked her elbows to keep him at arm’s length.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she said, scowling.

 
He dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose before she could dodge it, then grinned. “I was just trying to give you a good-morning kiss,” he said with a devilish glint in his eye.

  “Very funny. Who gave you the right to send him away?”

  He drew his eyebrows together and frowned down at her. “Who?”

  “Bobby.”

  Somehow, Jake resisted the temptation to mimic Bobby Armstrong, Armstrong Emergency Towing. Chill out, babe. Hmph. If she needed anyone to make things primo, he’d be the one to do it. Then, remembering the way Bobby had had his arm around Cori, Jake felt his temper flare. He dropped his arms. Cori took two steps back.

  “I’ll take care of your car,” he said quietly, because he didn’t see any reason to let the whole neighborhood in on their conversation. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “You had no right to butt in. This isn’t any of your business.”

  “You’re my business, and so’s your car,” he shouted, forgetting his intention to keep their discussion private. In his mind he could still see Bobby hanging all over her. He clenched his fists until his fingers ached. “If you’ve got a problem, tell me. I’ll take care of it.”

  “I’m quite capable of taking care of things like this myself, but I do appreciate the offer.”

  “No problem. I handled it.”

  In response, she whirled away from him.

  Jake heard her muttering to herself. It sounded as though she were slowly counting to ten, as though she were as mad as he was, but he’d be damned if he could figure out what had her so riled. He stared at her back, waiting patiently for her to calm down. When she finally turned back to him, he decided her counting technique worked. She looked remarkably composed.

  “You dismissed me,” she said, her voice hardly more than a whisper, “as if I didn’t have the brains to deal with an automobile mechanic.”

  “Sweetheart, if that guy’s a mechanic, I’m the Pope.”

  “Bobby’s had his own service station for several years.”

  “Did he build it with his Erector Set?”

  “It’s the station at the corner of Holly and McFarland.”

  Picturing the gas station she’d named, Jake folded his arms across his chest and let out a derisive snort. “Nice place. I’d be willing to bet someone else does all the dirty work.”

  “Jake, this isn’t about Bobby’s gas station.”

  “Did you see his hands? Lord, the guy’s nails were manicured. I’ll bet he’s never even changed a flat tire.” He shook his head. “Licensed mechanic, my a—”

  “That’s enough.” Cori gritted her teeth together, wondering if he really believed they were arguing about a car repair, a silly car repair. She’d be happy to let him take care of her car. If he wanted to, she’d let him wash it, wax it, tune the engine, the whole bit. It would be a pleasure—no, a relief—to turn that responsibility over to someone else. That wasn’t the issue.

  Slowly, she raised her head, her eyes following the dark line of hair bisecting his chest, past the pulse point hammering at his throat, until she met his eyes. The issue was the way he’d treated her.

  It had taken her years to prove to herself that she wasn’t like her mother, that she could get along on her own, that she didn’t need a man to do every little thing for her. And he’d barged in and pushed her aside as if she were incapable of handling the smallest problem.

  She let out a resigned sigh. From the beginning she’d known Jake was the type of man who liked to take charge. She should have realized he’d try to take charge of her life sooner or later, and that they’d butt heads big-time when she refused to let him.

  “I think you’d better get your things and leave,” she told him.

  “What?”

  “We made a mistake last night, and the sooner we face facts, the better.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “This.” She waved her arm in a wide arc that was meant to include everything that had occurred in the last few minutes. “Maybe Susie is willing to put up with you interfering in her business anytime you please, but I’m not.”

  “Cori, sweetheart.” He reached for her, but she backed away. “You’re blowing this whole thing out of proportion. I was just trying to help.”

  “Great. Every time you think I need ‘help’ you’ll step right up and take care of things for me. Well, I won’t allow it.” He started to open his mouth. “I’d like you to leave. Now.”

  To her surprise, he turned and went back into the house. When he came out a minute later, he had his shoes in one hand and his car keys in the other. He’d taken the time to put on his shirt and coat, but he hadn’t bothered with the buttons. His tie dangled loosely around his neck, and his cotton briefs poked out of the breast pocket of his suitcoat. He looked furious.

  “You know what I think?” he said, pointing his shiny black wingtips at her for emphasis. “I think you’re afraid of having someone find out you need a little help now and then. You’re trying to prove to the world that Cori McLaughlin can do everything all by herself. I don’t know why that’s so damn important to you, but let me tell you something. You need people. Just like everyone else does.”

  “I don’t need someone to run my life.”

  “You don’t need me running your life. That’s what you mean, isn’t it?”

  Cori looked him straight in the eye. “Yes.”

  Without saying another word he walked over to his car and got in.

  She watched him drive away, telling herself she’d done the smart thing in breaking off the relationship right then and there. Things had already gone too far. Experience had taught her it would hurt far less to end things now than if she waited until she was so involved—so dependent—that she couldn’t stand to be without him. It was best this way.

  Still numb, she walked over to the picnic table and sat down on the bench. The tears started immediately.

  Eight

  “Uncle J.T., are you gonna many Cori?”

  Jake bolted upright and whacked his head on the undercarriage of his Porsche.

  “Dammit. I mean … darn it.” Hands gripping the bumper, he scooted forward on the floor of the garage until the dolly had cleared the car before sitting up this time.

  “Well, are you?” his six-year-old nephew repeated.

  “That would be pretty hard to do right now,” Jake replied, “considering the lady isn’t even talking to me.”

  “Cowabunga, dude. She must be really fried.” Ricky applied more wax to his rag, then took up where he’d left off on the left front fender.

  Jake studied his nephew, shaking his head at the accuracy of the conclusion he’d drawn. “How’d you figure that out so fast, sport?”

  Ricky snorted. “I know how girls are.” Hands on his hips, he thrust his chin out. “I’m so angry, I’m not speaking to you ever again,” he mimicked, a deliberate squeak in his voice.

  Jake leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “Sounds like you’ve had experience with this sort of thing.”

  “For sure. That’s what my sister says when I do something she doesn’t like. I hate when girls do that.”

  Jake let out a self-mocking chuckle and stood up. “Me too.”

  After hanging his socket wrench on the pegboard over the workbench, Jake fished through the rag bag for a soft old T-shirt before taking up his position next to Ricky. Side by side, they waxed the Porsche in silence, Jake discreetly covering the spots Ricky missed.

  He was relieved his nephew hadn’t thought to ask why they were polishing the already pristine finish. Ricky was still too young to understand, but Jake had discovered that the fastest way to take his mind off a problem—even one involving a woman—was to focus all his attention on a familiar task. If he threw all he had into the job at hand, he wouldn’t have any energy left for thinking. The technique had worked beautifully in the past.

  He sure as hell hoped it worked today.

  Bending closer to the car, Jake concentrated on making n
ice, even swirls on the car’s surface.

  “You’ll probably have to take Cori some flowers.”

  Jake’s hand froze in mid-swirl. “You think that’ll work?”

  Ricky nodded enthusiastically. “Yup. That’s what happened in this movie I saw once. A girl got real mad at this guy, so he brought her flowers. First she cried, then she hugged him and kissed him.” He squinched his face into a grimace usually reserved for brussels sprouts. “It was kind of mushy,” he explained, “but then it was over.” He snapped his fingers. “Just like that.”

  Just like that. Jake wished it were that simple. Shaking his head, he walked over to the corner of the garage and retrieved a clean rag before returning to the car.

  “Thanks for the suggestion, but I don’t think flowers will do the trick this time, sport.”

  Ricky sauntered over and got himself a different rag too. “How come?”

  “Cori was really ticked off.”

  “Oh.” Ricky drew his brows together and folded his arms over his chest. “You could buy her a teddy bear. Girls like stuffed animals.”

  “I doubt that’ll work either.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because when she asked me to leave, she sounded like she never wanted to see me again.”

  “Wow. She really was ticked off.”

  Jake nodded, thinking he’d been pretty upset himself. At the mechanic for putting his hands all over Cori, at Cori for leaping to the jerk’s defense when Jake questioned his mechanical ability, at the way she’d tried to make it sound as though he were trying to run her life when all he’d wanted to do was fix her darn car.

  Still irritated, he slapped the ends of the shirt together several times until he’d made a well-padded polishing cloth. “Yeah, I’m afraid this is serious, Ricky, and I don’t think buying her things is going to make her like me again.”

  Ricky carefully folded his rag into a neat square. “Maybe you better just tell her you’re sorry.”

  “Great idea, but I don’t think she’ll listen.”