Kisses From Heaven (4 page)

She shoved the bulky hairdryer at him with a silver-eyed stare. “If you want to waste your Saturday, that’s up to you. But don’t count on conversation from me unless it’s over the roar of a vacuum. I don’t have time to play.”

Buck emerged from the house just as Loren was coming up the driveway. She’d barely shut off the engine before he had the side doors of the van open. He managed three grocery bags to her one, toting them ahead of her wordlessly, and Loren found herself shaking her head. Dammit, what was she going to do about him? Why on earth was he doing all this?

The kitchen table was strewn with a pile of clean clothes, half folded. She set down the grocery bag and her purse, taking off her coat even as she was starting to unpack the canned goods. A cup of coffee was whisked in front of her; she ignored it, working silently as Buck sat down at the table.

“You’ll have hot water within the hour. The faucets upstairs and down are no longer dripping, and the burner on the stove’s fixed. But the hairdryer is beyond repair, and your washing machine is going, Loren. There’s a leak in the attic that could at least be token-patched from the inside, and the lamp in your sister’s room has a worn out electrical cord. Very mechanical, your family. I made out a list once I started the wash. It came to two pages. Actually, very few of these things are expensive if you don’t have to pay a repair man for his time. And in the meantime,” Buck continued mildly, “I threw out the slip with the hole in it. I knew damn well it was yours—your sister’s things have ‘brand-new’ all but written on them. The bras were easy to divide, but the panties I gave up on. They all stretch. You and your sister will have to sort out the rainbow. Perhaps Angela might even be able to rouse herself off that sweet little ass of hers…”

Loren smash-shut the vegetable bin, smash-shut the refrigerator and turned to his expectant green eyes with her hands on her hips. “You are driving me nuts.”

Buck nodded mildly, as if the subject were of little interest to him. “I can’t find your pajamas,” he complained.

“I don’t wear any.”

“Cheaper that way?”

She drew in her breath, trying to contain the laughter that was bubbling up inside her. He had set up such a darned good show to prove his unusual (for a man) domestic skills—taking on her wash, indeed! Yet she couldn’t laugh. Her pride was smarting from his help, she was no one’s charity case and she didn’t like anyone running interference for her. But…he
had
put in a three-day work week in a few hours, and professional help would have cost her a bundle she didn’t have; she even felt a grudging respect for this man who pitched in with an energy and determination that matched her own, obstacles or no. She just couldn’t seem to pigeonhole him—he seemed neither a nomadic Jack-of-all-trades nor the goodwill neighborly type.

“Who
are
you, Buck? What are you doing here?” she asked finally.

“Sit down and I’ll tell you, after you answer the question about the pajamas.”

“Pajamas? Oh…” She brought the coffee cup with her and sat down at the head of the table. It was her first chance to sit all day, and she could not help the weary sigh that escaped from her. “I sleep without pajamas because I have a deliciously secret fantasy sex life,” she said ironically. “That’s what you wanted to hear, isn’t it?”

“Good girl,” he said approvingly. With his elbows on the table, he leaned forward and gave a wry little shake of his head. “You really don’t ‘throw’ off balance easily, do you?”

“I work with more than four hundred men,” she responded smoothly. “You can’t expect to take me unaware too easily. Now it’s your turn.”

“All right,” he returned promptly. “I’m the president of a local die-cast company.”

She blinked. She’d just said she couldn’t be taken unaware, and he had managed it just that quickly. For an instant, she could see him as the executive he claimed to be, with those shrewd green eyes and take-charge arrogance, the way he walked and the way he held those shoulders of his. And then she chuckled.

“You don’t believe me.” He was clearly amused.

She shook her head, still chuckling, and picked up the now-cooled coffee to take a sip. “No, I don’t, thank heaven,” she said gently. “You’ve got the arrogance to run something, Lord knows, and anyone could tell you’ve got a decent education behind you. But that ‘president’ image reminds me of my husband…the snob appeal of a prestigious title, the social elite game, the little hobbies that only money can pay for. All the really honest emotions that can take place between two people become buried under the gold.” His expression froze, and she raised her eyebrows at him, sorry she had mentioned her ex-husband. “I associate very selfish qualities with money; I already told you that,” she said clearly. “And you haven’t got them. Besides, I already know your story.”

“Oh, you do?”

The longer he stared at her, the more she felt an unwilling sexual awareness of him creep up on her as it had the night before. The virile breadth of his shoulders and the strength of his features, a certain quiet way he moved, the lingering promise in the embrace that still haunted her. “You weren’t laid off, and you didn’t quit,” she said quietly. “You were fired, Buck. It was a good job, the problem is that you need to work for yourself. You couldn’t cut it under someone else’s gun. It wasn’t that you couldn’t do the work—you were probably excellent at it—but you wouldn’t snap when someone belted out an order. Right?”

Buck looked startled and then scraped back the kitchen chair as he stood up to get himself a cup of coffee. “I will tell you this. The only job I was ever fired from was for just that reason. And you’re right, I don’t take orders well from anyone but myself. Loren?”

She cocked her head at him questioningly.

“I like the game. For now. Maybe you do, too. It’s like seeing myself through your eyes, without any past intruding, without any judgments made because of status or titles or appearances. But it shouldn’t go too far. When you want an honest answer to any question…”

She stood up, too, carted her empty cup to the counter and then finished putting away the last of the groceries. “I hear you,” she said finally. “Maybe I just like the game, too, for now. I’d like to believe that I really don’t care who you are or what you’ve done. That I can judge all I need to judge from the man I see, as far as trust or character or…anything that matters.” He didn’t answer, just came close to her when he set down his coffee cup. She could feel the sudden electricity crackle, the special awareness of a man’s nearness that she so rarely felt. “Thank you for doing all that work today,” she said swiftly. “I’d offer you a drink instead of coffee, but unfortunately we don’t stock any liquor, as you might have guessed.”

“I don’t want any liquor,” he growled.

“No. We both know what you want, heaven knows why,” she said wryly, but there was a sadness in her silvery eyes. She turned away, bunching up the last of the grocery bags with a nerve-crunching noise that didn’t last very long. She started to loop the folded clothes over one arm, piling them up to her chin, and with an exasperated sound from the back of his throat, Buck piled a load in his own arms and followed her up the stairs.

“You can’t have it, Buck,” she said without looking back at him. “I mean it. I had a broken heart once; it was the only thing I couldn’t handle. I just don’t play anymore. I haven’t the time; I haven’t the emotional energy. I’ve got too many people to take care of now, so don’t ask me. Do me a favor and just go, would you? You can do better in a thousand ways, and I think you know it.”

“Loren—”

He hurried to open the door ahead of her, and there was Angela just on the other side, startled in her own rush to get down the stairs. Her eyes widened on both of them, and then she grinned pertly. “Hey, hey,” she scolded. “No men above the stairs but Gramps. Those are Loren’s rules, you know.”

Unaccountably, Loren flushed. Angela was not only quick but invariably had a one-track mind. “Where are you off to?”

“David’s, naturally. Gramps is napping, so don’t make too much noise, you two. I mean, two black sheep in the family are enough. Loren’s our resident angel, Buck. You tarnish the title, and we won’t like it.”

“I can’t imagine what you
think
you’re talking about,” Loren said tartly.

Angela only waved and sprinted past them down the stairs.

“Now all I need is for Joan to come up from the basement and start in,” Buck complained as he trailed after Loren, who sorted through the piles of laundry and distributed the clothes room to room. “Your grandfather had at me while you were gone.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said shortly. “I can say my own nos very well, thank you.”

“Had a lot of practice?”

“My fair share.”

“From the four hundred men you work with?”

“Among others.”

“Anyone current?”

She walked into her bedroom and then turned around, pushing her hand firmly to his chest to shove him back out, closing the door. She heard his low-throated chuckling. All she wanted to do was run a quick brush through her hair and put on a fresh bit of lipstick…and gain two seconds of freedom. The stalk through the bedrooms had been fraught with undercurrents, verbal and physical. After a moment, she opened the door.

“I like your hair mussed, and I don’t like you to wear lipstick,” he said promptly.

“Those are your problems, not mine.” But she was pleased.

“Anyone current?” he repeated.

“No,” she said with exasperation. “How about you?”

He hesitated. “No one that matters.”

“A sleeping partner,” she guessed, and saw his jaw tighten. “I’ll bet you have a lot of those.”

“It took practice to become an outstanding lover.”

She managed to look disappointed. “What a shame. I’m just not in that league; it’s been too long. This day and age, though, I’m sure you can find someone in your own ballpark.”

“Loren…”

She hurried ahead of him down the stairs. He followed her through the hall, through the kitchen’s swinging door, through the kitchen itself, all the way to the back door, which she opened and then stood there. “No,” she said firmly. “Now go home.”

He took his time getting his coat from the kitchen chair and putting it on, his eyes never leaving hers. She met his look until he started walking toward her, and then almost helplessly she averted her eyes, her long black lashes spiking her cheeks as she waited for him to pass. When he was next to her, he crooked one finger beneath her chin to tilt it up. “I’ve heard that no,” he said quietly. “You say it another way, Loren, and I’ll believe you.” Ever so gently his face bent toward hers, and like quicksilver, their lips met. An unwilling softness shone from her eyes by the time he took his mouth from hers. It was not a blush of innocence that colored her cheeks but the warmth from his closeness. “Say no now, Loren,” he murmured roughly.

She shook her head and took a step back from him with her chin high. “I’m saying no, Buck, because it won’t work. It
can’t
work, with my life. I’m asking you to understand,” she said pleadingly. “I’m asking you to honor that I mean it.”

He stared at her for a long minute and then moved on and out, leaving her to close the door behind him.

Loren dialed the phone with the eraser end of her pencil, nodding a thank-you as Janey entered with the day’s letters to be signed. She angled the phone between ear and shoulder as she signed her name on the pages, too certain of her secretary’s typing skills to check her work. The phone rang at the other end…and rang, and rang.

It was more than three minutes before she could force herself to hang up. Another Friday afternoon and Angela had absolutely sworn she would stay home; Loren had even bribed her sister with the use of the van for the evening… Janey buzzed her, and Loren pressed her intercom button.

“There’s a first-aid call from the boiler room, and Ralph’s not answering,” the secretary explained.

“If there was a drop of blood involved, Ralph’s probably fainted,” Loren said dryly. “Okay, Janey, on my way.”

Snatching up her tortoise-shell safety glasses, Loren bolted through three sets of revolving doors. Past the foremen’s offices, past the divisional managers and production, and suddenly there were two dozen monster presses, the steady whoosh and hiss as they opened and closed blending with the acrid smell of hot plastic. A variety of greetings were shouted at Loren as she passed. She was distinctly the only one in a feminine cream blouse with ruffles at the throat, a camel skirt and three-and-a-half-inch heels that were illegal plant attire in every way. Most of the time she found it both ironic and amusing to be the plant’s sole sex symbol, but for now she ignored the affectionate catcalls.

The boiler room was spotless, but the noise level just barely met standard. Loren resisted the urge to cover her ears as she crouched down by the reclining man and motioned away the four or five onlookers. “It’s just a nosebleed, boys. Johnny has them all the time…”

With help, she got Johnny to the first-aid room, and a half hour later she was dabbing a cold wet cloth at the red spot on her shoulder as she walked toward the offices. Two doors later, she whirled around a corner to collide with a short, stocky, whiskered man, who laughed as he grabbed at her shoulders.

“Matt!”

“I’ve been trying to find you, sexy. I feel bad about leaving you with a double workload…”

“I thought you’d already left on vacation—”

“I’m leaving, I’m leaving. But I told Frank he was taking advantage, Loren. He loads work on you as though you’re some kind of bottomless pit…”

Loren laughed and perched her glasses on top of her head. “Don’t be silly. I can manage. Now don’t you be worried; just give us a kiss and get out of here while you still can.”

The kiss was a swift smack of affection, but from around the side of Matt’s shoulder, she suddenly saw one hell of a broad-shouldered redhead and his sidekick, a smallish white-haired man whose eyes were pale blue—and sober, very sober. The two men were glaring at her.

“Have a super time, Matt. I have to go—”

“Be good, honey.”

Matt was gone, and relief filled Loren’s heart because Gramps was
here,
sober and safe, and there would be no trauma at that horrid bar this Friday. She threw her arms around him, her joy and relief so explosive there were almost tears in her eyes. “I’m
so
glad to see you! But what are you doing here, darling?”