Strictly Business (15 page)

Not that he was against one night stands, or casual sex
between two consenting adults, but she was a virgin. There was no way he was
going to take her virginity just to get her out of his system. She’d waited
this long for a reason, though he didn’t know what it was. So instead he spent
his days being teased and his nights in hell. He had tried to ease the pressure
every day, usually more than once, and that seemed to make it worse. He could
still feel her body contracting around his finger as he brought her to climax.

Just looking at her sitting at his table, fully clothed, and
he was already hard. He muttered, “Fuck me,” as he grabbed a mug of coffee. He
turned to leave the room, once again without saying anything, when she finally
spoke up.

“I get that we’re not speaking to each other, however, we
have some business we need to take care of. You have to pick cabinets and
countertops at the very least. They take a while, especially if you custom
order, which you most likely will. So, we
are
going into Evanston today.
Go take care of the morning routine. I’ve cleared my schedule for the entire
day, so I’m available to help if there’s anything I can do. And at ten o’clock
we are leaving.”

Her voice was calm and icy. One hundred percent professional.
If he hadn’t been there, he would never suspect their night of passion or the
fight the next day. He wanted to hit her. He had never before wanted to hit a
woman, but right now he wanted to hit her. Or kiss her until the ice melted.
Rip her shirt off and remind her that she wasn't always that cold to him.

That’s what he
wanted
to do. What he did was say,
“Fine,” and storm out the door, slamming it behind him.

At nine fifty-eight, Jake walked back into the kitchen. Jess
was already there waiting for him, a glass of iced tea in her hand. She looked
cool and composed. But he noticed, while he was glaring at her of course, that
her eyes were shooting fire this time. Not quite as calm as she was this
morning. This actually brought a little smile to his lips.

Which caused a look of confusion to run across her face. His
smile got bigger as he turned to the sink. “Just let me wash up and we’ll head
out of here.”

As he was drying his hands, she stood, grabbed her purse and
her briefcase and headed toward the door. She still looked a tad bit confused
but she wasn't speaking. He was actually enjoying her discomfiture. He smiled a
little more as he followed her out to the truck. When he climbed into the
driver’s seat, he looked back over his shoulder, scowl firmly back in place.
“What are you doing back there?”

“I assumed we were driving to Evanston. Why, did you plan to
murder me instead?”

“Look lady, you may not be speakin’ to me, but I’ll be
damned if I’m going to act as your chauffeur! You can either find your own ride
into town, or drag your sexy ass up here!” He hadn’t really meant for the
“sexy” to come out.

The confused look gave way to fury. She was practically
yelling when she finally answered. “No, I’ll ride back here. Marsha can ride up
front.”

“Marsha’s not coming. Now, get up here!” He was shouting, he
knew he was shouting, he kept telling himself to stop shouting, but it wasn’t
working.

“Why isn’t Marsha coming? It’s her damn kitchen! It’s not
like you cook in it or anything. She should get to choose what works for her.”

“She did! She approved the layout, and I’ve taken her over
to the house to walk her through the basics too. I get to pick the cabinets.”

She had just stuck that aforementioned sexy ass in the air,
contorted into weird positions and climbed over the seat like a kid. Jake
snapped.

All at once, his hands were on her arms, pulling her across
the car.
Thank God for bench seats.
Jake dragged her onto his lap and
pressed his mouth hungrily against hers. There was no tenderness, no romance.
This was need, desire, hunger.

She responded in kind. Her tongue slipped out to run along
his lips. His mouth opened, letting her tongue in to duel with his. She
whimpered then wrapped her hands around his neck, digging them into his hair.

He twisted her around until she was straddling him. He felt
her hips slide, rubbing up against his erection, making his cock throb and jump
against her.

Jess pulled her mouth off his, taking in a deep breath
before she cried out, bucking her hips against him. Jake felt her cries against
his lips, her breasts pressing against him. He thrust his hips toward her as
she ground down on him. When he found himself wishing he could rip the crotch
out of her jeans and ram himself inside her, reality slapped him in the face.
They were in the cab of his truck, in the front yard, in full view of everyone.
And they hadn’t even spoken to each other in days. This was not the time, nor
the place. Reluctantly he pulled his mouth from hers and pushed her slightly
away resting his forehead against hers.

“I’m sorry. This isn’t the right time for this.”

She slowly climbed off his lap, settled into her seat and
latched the seat belt. “It’s fine, let’s go please. We have a lot to do.”

The ice was back in her voice. He waited for the anger to
come. It had been with him constantly since he woke up without her three days
ago. Instead of anger, he felt…disappointment. He just couldn’t seem to get
things right with her.

They drove into Evanston in silence. When they got to the
design center Jess had found online, they each got out, closed their doors
gently and headed in, again in silence.

Jess turned to him. “Let’s take one swoop all the way
through. Make note of anything that jumps out at you, and we’ll come back and
narrow it down from there.”

Jake was completely out of his league. He liked several of
the kitchen combinations they’d put together, but he had no idea what he
actually wanted in his house. He just kept hoping he’d know it if he saw it.

And then he did. Only it wasn’t the kitchen he saw, it was
Jess's face. Her whole face lit up.

He watched her walk into one of the kitchen layouts, run her
hand along the edge of the countertops, smile at the cooktop. She fingered the
knobs on the cabinets, ran her hands across some shiny silver thing above the
stove. What was that called? A range hood? Apparently, this was the kitchen she
wanted. Why did that matter? It shouldn’t be important to him what she wanted
in the house. He stood there, stunned, as he thought back to their discussions.
The floor plans, the house style, everything. He had wanted her input, wanted
her to approve of his choices. Why? Why was this kitchen all of a sudden the
only one he wanted? As he began to answer his own questions, terror took hold.

He saw her turn to look at him. He had no idea what his face
looked like, but if hers was any indication, it wasn't good.

She ran over, gripping his shoulders and shaking him. “Jake,
Jake, are you okay? What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

He could hear the panic in her voice and that was enough to
help snap him out of his own. He was being ridiculous anyway. He was listening
to her choices because she was the expert She knew what she was doing and he
didn’t. He respected her opinion, that was all. And there was nothing
terrifying about that.

He took a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m fine. I think I just got a
little overwhelmed. There’s a lot to absorb in here.” Somewhere inside he knew
there was more to this than he was admitting to, but he wasn’t ready to face it
quite yet.

Jess shrugged. She still looked confused, but she didn't ask
any questions, for which Jake was extremely grateful.

* * * * *

He followed her as they wandered through yet more kitchens
and into the flooring department. She glanced over and inadvertently spotted a
really dark wood floor that would look perfect with that kitchen. The kitchen
was going to be plastered, not wood sided, so the kitchen and flooring didn’t
have to go with the exterior logs. She could see this all flowing into the
niche, a huge tobacco colored table. Warm tan leather sofas with a splash of
color from throw pillows, a bright area rug. Warm, neutral tans on the walls.
An accent of that same tobacco in the built-in shelves. Very masculine, very
comfortable, but still enough color to be homey and nice for Marsha and guests.
All of a sudden, the whole main floor of the house came together. She turned
around, all set to talk him into the kitchen she liked, when she remembered it
didn’t matter. This wasn’t her house. She wouldn’t be choosing any of the
furniture. She would offer opinions to make sure his choices in cabinets and
flooring didn’t clash and that would be it.

She turned back to him, “So, were there any rooms that
really popped out at you? Any cabinet styles or colors you really liked?”

“Yeah, I found one I liked.” He turned around and walked
back to the kitchen she’d admired. When he stopped in front of the kitchen she
loved, she felt the hackles rise on the back of her neck. Before she could stop
the words, she heard herself saying, “No, I don’t think this would work for
you. Not with that house.”

“But you like it. I saw you. This was the only one that drew
any sort of response from you at all.”

“Yes,
I
like the kitchen. But this is not about
me
.
This is about you.
You
have to live and cook there. Well, live at least.
Marsha has to cook, but I’ll make sure she’s involved in choosing the
appliances. Although, with a double oven, like this one, and the Viking cook
top and fridge, you can’t go wrong. But the cabinets, color choice and style
need to be what
you
like. So choose.”

“I did choose. I like this one. Although, maybe a different
color countertop. So, let’s go find somebody and we can order what we need.”

She actually agreed with the counter comment. She would go
with concrete, done in a dark warm color. To offset the distressed antiqued
white cabinetry. Wait, no…

“No, pick something else.” She knew she sounded childish,
but for some reason having him choose her favorite kitchen upset her. Maybe she
would redo her kitchen when she got home, then she could justify it. Although,
her house was really too modern for the antique kitchen. But she would not let
him choose that kitchen.

“I will not pick something else just because you say so. Why
should I? You told me to pick what I liked, and this is it. Now, find a sales
person so we can order it!”

They were standing in the middle of the store, and their
fight was escalating. Soon, they would be yelling. With forced politeness and a
calm she didn't feel, she said, “Jake, I would really appreciate it if you
would just look around and pick
your
favorite. This is your house, not
mine. And, contrary to my being here today, I am
not
a designer.”

“No, I’m going to find a sales rep and order these cabinets!
You might want to participate to make sure we get the right sizes.” He turned
and headed toward the front of the store.

She ran around him and jumped in front of him. “Why won’t
you pick something else? Yes, I like that one, but that shouldn’t matter. Why
are you being so stubborn about this?” Great, now she was whining like a two
year old. She couldn’t help rolling her eyes.

“I don’t know. I just want you to like it, okay? Now, move
so I can go and order this!”

Even though he’d screamed at her, even though it made no
sense, she got a warm feeling in the pit of her stomach.

She knew she should stand firm, make him order something
different. Order something he liked, not her choice. And yet she found herself
giving all the measurements to the design center. Then they went and picked the
flooring, again the one she thought was best. By the time they left, they had
the flooring chosen, the kitchen done, including appliances, the countertop
concrete, color picked. They’d also picked the tile and fixtures for the master
bathroom. Including the tile for the walk-in shower and a giant whirlpool tub,
both big enough for two.

They had fought and argued and eventually ended up with
choices she loved for everything. She just hoped, truly hoped, that Jake liked
all of it. She was very worried that he was just letting her pick everything,
and she had to keep reminding herself that this was not, never would be, her
house.

As they walked out of the store, Jake commented that it was
almost five p.m. and neither of them had eaten any lunch. "I know, but we
got so much done. A couple more trips and we should have everything. We only
have six more bathrooms, window coverings, area rugs..."

Jake interrupted her. “Yeah, okay. But not today. Right now
I need food. So, where do you want to go for dinner? My treat. Anything you
want.”

Jess smiled. She’d actually enjoyed most of the day. Other
than the very confusing beginning, the part where even she didn't understand
her behavior, it’d been a lot better than she’d thought it would be. She knew
they needed to talk about things, but maybe not just yet. “How about a steak
house? I would love a good medium rare and a baked potato.”

Jake smiled back, took her hand, kissed her fingertips and
led her to the truck. “I know just the place.”

Dinner was amazing. Wonderful food, nice atmosphere, a
couple of glasses of wine. Jess had wine anyway. Jake was driving them back so
he had soda. And the company was wonderful. Jake was back to being nice to her.
She was totally confused by the change in attitude, but more than willing to
accept the tentative offer of peace. Being with him was much like she imagined
it would be to ride a yo-yo.

They talked about the ranch. They had another foal due soon,
another one of Satan’s offspring. They talked about the new house, her
projected timeline, how things were going. They talked about movies they liked,
movies they didn’t. Books. She found that when they weren’t screaming at each
other, they got along really well.