NFH 03 Checkmate (5 page)

"You want to tell me why you felt the need
to soak Bunny?" she asked, resigning herself to waiting another
hour or two before she ventured out onto her own porch. Not that it
would make much of a difference since he'd just come back out again
to aggravate her, but after three years she was used to it. She
also loved her time on her porch too much to really care most of
the time.

"I will if you tell me why you named that
poor dog, Bunny," he offered, taking a sip of his beer.

Because the dog was her
little honey bunny, but she would never tell
him
that. "Forget it," she said,
sighing as she headed for her front door.

"Come up here and join me," he called after
her.

"I'll pass," she said, wanting nothing more
than a hot cup of cocoa as she went over the new plans McGill gave
her earlier and work them into her plans. She also needed to figure
out ways to speed up the renovation. Even with Connor's men and
equipment they were looking at long hours. She needed to figure out
how to get it all done without destroying their profit with
overtime.

"Don't you think the two of us should sit
down and go over the plans for Strawberry Manor?" he asked
casually, but she wasn't stupid. She knew the only reason that he
wanted to talk to her was so that he could pick her brain and
discover what resources she had at her disposal. It's exactly what
she would have done if she hadn't managed to corner one of his men
an hour earlier and sweet talk him into spilling his guts about
Highland Construction's equipment, its men and their skills. Now
she just had to work all that newfound knowledge into her
plans.

"Not really," she said as she unlocked her
front door and sent up a silent prayer to have a Connor-free night.
Of course her prayer was ignored. They usually were where Connor
was concerned.

"That's too bad. I guess I'll have to tell
McGill that you're not willing to fulfill your end of the
contract," he mused loudly.

She didn't say anything as she slammed the
door behind her, because there was nothing to say. He knew he had
her in a tight spot and had no problem screwing her over. If she
didn't play nice he could cost her the contract and more
importantly, her reputation.

Clenching her jaw shut, she stormed into her
kitchen and dropped her things onto the light oak country table. If
she was going to deal with Connor and not kill him, then she was
going to need a hot cocoa fix. As she waited for the water to boil,
she fed Bunny and sorted through her notes. If he wanted to pretend
that they were going to play nice that was fine with her since none
of this bullshit mattered anyway.

The real battle wouldn't begin until
tomorrow and she was more than prepared to win. So, if he wanted to
play these pointless little games now that was more than fine with
her. After she mixed up her special hot cocoa, took a sip and
sighed happily, she grabbed the top folder and made her way through
the house.

If she didn't absolutely adore her house she
would have sold it and moved the hell away from Connor, but she did
so she couldn't. This was her house, her baby, and nothing and no
one was ever going to make her give it up. As she restored the
house to its original condition she'd fallen in love with the large
old house and couldn't imagine living anywhere else. Her only hope
was that Connor got sick and tired of these games and decided to
sell his house and move far, far, far, far, far away.

Just the idea of having a Connor-free day
made her giddy. Now if it would only come true she might actually
cry tears of joy, she thought as she headed up the back stairs to
her room. As she walked across her large bedroom she wondered if
Connor was going to use their new situation to his advantage and
make her life a living hell even more over the next five months.
Then she snorted at her own stupidity.

Of course he was going to try. He'd been
doing it for over twenty-five years now and wasn't showing any
signs of boredom yet. Every single day for twenty-five years the
man went out of his way to make her life a living hell. It didn't
matter what she was doing or where she was, Connor found a way to
leave his mark on her day.

She still couldn't forget her eighteenth
birthday. It started off great. Her brothers woke her up at two in
the morning by tying her up and gagging her, a James tradition and
one her father tried to make her brothers skip that year.
Thankfully they didn't throw her in the trunk of Craig's car as
tradition dictated. Instead, they tossed her in the backseat and
threw a black pillowcase over her head and teased and tormented her
for ten hours by refusing to tell her where they were going.

When they'd finally pulled the hood off her
head and she saw where they'd brought her, she squealed happily as
she gave all of her brothers bear hugs. Really, how many brothers
were sweet enough to bring their sister to Canada on her eighteenth
birthday to get her drunk?

Best. Brothers. Ever.

For the first four hours everything had been
perfect. After she ate, because her brothers refused to let her
drink unless she had food in her stomach, she tried beer, wine and
hard liquor. Her brothers took turns watching her, but by the time
the first hour had come and gone she was too drunk to really
care.

She was happy and giddy as she danced to
every song. Well, she danced when she wasn't drinking. All the men
at the bar were super nice, too. They bought her drinks so she
didn't have to spend a cent of her own money and jumped at the
chance to dance with her. The night was going perfectly until she
thought she spotted Connor lurking in the corner, watching her.

When she couldn't find him
again, she just shook it off to an overactive imagination and yummy
alcohol. A little while after that, things kind of got fuzzy. From
what little she did remember of that night she knew it was all
Connor's fault that she woke up the next morning handcuffed
to
him
on a bench
while a Mounty with a fresh black eye glared at them from across
the room.

If it wasn't for Connor, she wouldn't have
needed to be placed in a cell while her father tried to plow
through a dozen officers so that he could wring her neck. The only
pleasure she got out of that whole awful experience was watching
her father take a swing at Connor, who must have been hung over,
because he just stood there and took it.

"Stay," she told Bunny as she pushed back
the dark thick curtains and unlocked the sliding glass door.

"Took you long enough."

"What the hell are you doing on my porch?"
she asked, not really caring. As long as he didn't break into her
house, and surprisingly he didn't, then she really didn't care.

"For our meeting," he said, leaning a hip
against the banister as he sipped his beer.

"We don't have a meeting," she said even as
she allowed her eyes to quickly and discretely run over his rather
impressive chest and a set of abs that most men would kill for.
While her brothers were huge and muscular, Connor had the type of
body any Hollywood leading man would kill for. Not that she would
admit it to anyone, but he was by far the best looking man she'd
ever seen.

Her eyes moved back up to his chest and
paused at the almost black Celtic tattoo that started on the left
side of his chest and ended at his shoulder. It was large,
beautifully drawn and unbelievably hot, the tattoo, not the man.
She hated the man, but on any other man she would have been hard
pressed not to trace it with her fingers or better yet, her tongue.
As she forced her eyes elsewhere they landed on part of the tattoo
that to this day remained a mystery.

She knew that she wasn't the only one who
wondered who “LRJ” was and why the man had the initials placed in
the middle of that tattoo. There were a few betting pools going
around about the identity of LRJ, but as far as she knew no one had
been able to figure it out. Connor certainly never told anyone. If
someone asked, and damn near everyone asked at least a dozen times,
well everyone but her, he simply shrugged it off like it was
nothing.

"How many men do you have working for you
full-time?" Connor asked, drawing her attention away from her
rather disturbing thoughts.

"Fifty and I have another ten men that I
already screened and interviewed for the job," she answered, not
caring if he knew any of this. They were working together, kind of,
so they'd have to share a few things.

Connor nodded as he digested the
information. He placed his now empty beer bottle on the banister
behind him. "How many are certified?"

"All of them."

"Can paint?"

"All of them."

"Interesting," Connor mumbled, but she
didn't think it was. Her father made damn sure that she knew how to
build a house from top to bottom and she made sure that all of her
employees did as well. If they didn't know how to paint, drywall,
put up siding, or do masonry work then she made sure they learned.
Since every man that worked for her knew how to do every job she
didn't have to put up with delays or waste money by hiring outside
help. She also didn't have to waste time stressing over schedules
or try to figure out who knew how to do what since all of her men
were trained to do whatever was needed of them.

"Anything else?" she asked, itching to get
back inside and go over the plans.

"Are you in a rush?" Connor asked,
chuckling.

"No," she said, shrugging. "I just don't
like you."

"I'm the best part of your day and you know
it," he said and she knew that he truly believed it.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, big guy.
Are we done yet?"

But Connor wouldn't let it go, he never did.
"Admit that I'm the best part of your day," he said, crossing his
arms over his chest as he gave her a cocky smile.

"I can honestly say with absolutely no
hesitation that you, Connor O'Neil, have never been the best part
of my day," she said, wondering, not for the first time, what
horrible things she'd done in a past life to deserve having him in
her life.

"Puhlease, that's bullshit and we both know
it. I bet you fall asleep every night thinking about me and wake up
every morning smiling and eager to see me," he mused, sounding
smug, too damn smug.

"Actually, you have that backwards," she
said, taking a sip of her perfect hot cocoa.

"Really?"

"Mmmhmmm," she said around another sip.

"How so?"

"Well," she said, placing her cup of
delicious hot cocoa on the small patio table, "I fall asleep every
night smiling because I no longer have to worry about seeing you
for at least eight hours and wake up every morning thinking about
how to avoid you."

"But you're still thinking about me and
smiling when you do it," he said with a wink, leaning over and
swiping her hot cocoa before she could stop him.

"Hey!" she said, trying to grab it out of
his hands, but the damn man simply cupped the top of her head and
held her back as he downed her delicious hot cocoa. She hated when
he did this to her. It made her feel foolish and little and as soon
as she got the chance she was kicking his ass.

"You bastard!" she hissed when he made a big
show of smacking his lips.

"That was a damn good cup of cocoa, Rory.
Thanks," he said, handing her back the cup as he dropped his hand
away from her head.

"How could you?" she mumbled as she looked
longingly down at the now empty coffee cup where her delicious hot
cocoa had once been.

"Are you ready to admit that I'm the best
part of your day?" he asked, leaning back against the banister.

She glared up at him before looking back
down at the empty coffee cup in her hand and then back up at
him.

"Aw, shit," he said, turning and jumping
over the banister, crouching down on his own porch just as she let
the coffee cup fly.

When it missed his head by a few inches she
groaned. So damn close, yet not close enough, she thought as it
slammed into the side of his house and shattered.

"Well, I guess we'll have to continue this
conversation tomorrow night when you're in a better mood," Connor
said, standing.

"I'll make sure to bring plenty of coffee
cups," she said sweetly.

"Good," Connor said, sauntering towards his
sliding glass door, "because I could really go for another cup of
that delicious cocoa," he said, laughing when his beer bottle
sailed through the air towards him.

"Damn it!" She groaned when she missed him
again.

When the hell was her luck going to
change?

Chapter 4

Connor couldn't help grinning as he took the
turn off for Strawberry Manor. His eyes darted to his rear view
mirror to check on the long line of employee trucks and equipment
following him and then to the dashboard clock. It was almost seven
o'clock and there hadn't been a sign of Rory or her team anywhere
on the way over here.

When he snuck out of his house an hour ago
he'd been shocked to find her Jeep still in the driveway. He really
thought the eager little thing was going to give him a run for his
money, but she hadn't. Hell, she hadn't even rigged his truck so
that it wouldn't start. It seemed as though she really didn't want
this as much as he did, which was kind of surprising. After he let
the air out of her tires he left for work, wondering if he even had
to worry about her getting in his way after all.

As far as he was concerned, this early bird
definitely caught the worm, the worm being Strawberry Manor of
course. Clearly he wanted this project more than Rory. If she
wanted it half as badly as he did, she would have had her beautiful
ass up at the crack of dawn like he had so she could be here
getting everything set up and making an official claim on the
project. But, she didn't and hadn't, so this project was his. He
couldn't wait to see her face when she realized that he stole the
lead.