ThreeReasonsWhy (3 page)

“So you’d be happy with no-strings-attached dating?” she
asked.

“No.” He wasn’t going to lie about his intentions.

She turned around, shifting items on the shelf. “I knew it.
I also knew you wouldn’t accept my words about what I want. It’s why I’ve been
avoiding this conversation. You just don’t listen. Typical man.” Her ranting
turned to mumbling and he chuckled at her last line.

“You’re fooling yourself if you think you have all you need
in life.”

She turned to face him, pressing her body against his. His
chest constricted at her close proximity and it was all he could do not to pull
her skirt up and show her exactly what she needed.

“I need easy. I need free. And occasionally, I need sex.
You’re welcome to help me with the third any time you want, so long as you
understand nothing more will come of it.” She ran her hand along his side, not
stopping until she’d touched him from shoulder to upper thigh.

Narrowing his eyes, he studied her face. She was trying to
call his bluff. Trying to distract him from his intentions with sex. Two could
play that game.

He reached up, cupping the side of her face, pulling her
close. “So now I know.”

She frowned. “Know what?”

“What’s been keeping you away from me these past two months.
Fear.”

She shook her head. “I am not, nor will I ever be, afraid of
you.”

Yep, she was stubborn. However, her last reason for refusing
him—spoken with such assurance—left him at a loss for a rebuttal. She was
hiding something. He knew it. He’d have to bide his time until he figured out
why she was afraid of getting too close to someone. Time to fall back and punt.

He studied her flushed face and moved closer. He brushed his
lips against hers softly, quickly. “Fine, Jill. You aren’t afraid of me, and
you’ve given me three reasons why you don’t want to be with me. Now it’s my
turn.”

“Your turn for what?”

“To give you the three reasons why I’m not giving up on us.
Reason one, you’re perfect for me. You—exactly as you are right now. Not later,
after all these so-called changes you expect me to bring to your content
lifestyle.”

She refused to back away, even though he still held her
close. He’d always admired her courage, her spunkiness. She never backed down
from a fight, which was why her distance these past two months had driven him
crazy.

“Second, our bodies were made for each other.”

She huffed out an annoyed breath. “There’s more to life than
sex, Wes.”

“I know that, which leads to my final reason. I want to date
you.”

“Date me?”

“Yep. Goin’ steady. Boyfriend, girlfriend, an extra
toothbrush for you in my bathroom, your side of the bed, my side of the bed.
Dating.”

She appeared dumbfounded by his words, her mind playing over
his completely sincere declaration.

“I think those drugs they gave you in the hospital for pain
must have affected your brain. Or at the very least, your hearing. I’m. Not.
Dating. You.” He grinned at the fervor behind her refusal. God, she was
gorgeous. “Not now. Not ever.”

He considered the heated passion behind her words and
wondered if she was soured on the idea of commitment. No one in her life had
ever made it very far with that concept. Her parents had divorced when she was
young. Her sister’s first marriage had gone to hell in a handbasket after six
years. Rick was pushing hard to set a wedding date, but Kate was in no
hurry—despite her obvious love for the man. It was inevitable that Jill would
have reservations.

It was also inevitable that he would fight like hell to
overcome them. His mind was made up in regards to his future…and Jill Harper’s.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way, pixie.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He grasped her hips and pulled her against his erection once
more. She held his gaze. “You can accept my invitation for a date now or you’ll
have to suffer my concentrated seduction until you say yes.”

She grinned and for the first time since he’d entered the
room, he saw the real Jill emerge. “Oh wow. It’s gonna be tough watching you
fall on your ass, Wes, but I’m willing to give it a go.”

He laughed and released her. “Here.” He pulled the
help
wanted
sign out of his pocket and handed it to her.

She took it, looking down at the folded paper. “What’s
this?”

“You’re looking at your new handyman.”

She shook her head vehemently. “Oh no, I’m not. I—”

“Pixie, I think you underestimate me.”

“What do you mean?”

“If this is a battle we’re waging, you’re going to face me
on the field every day.”

She swallowed heavily, but he could see her considering his
comments. Jill never backed down from a dare. She was every bit as competitive
as he was. She wouldn’t run away any longer.

“I need a handyman, not a lover.”

“You know I’m perfectly qualified to work here as your
handyman and while I’m at it, I’m gonna show you how very wrong you are about
everything you just said. I’m going to prove to you exactly how perfect we are
for each other and I’m
definitely
going to change your mind about all
three of those damn reasons why.”

Chapter Two

Jill slammed her fist against the stuck drawer, cursing
under her breath as Cheryl walked into the kitchen with a tray full of dirty
dishes.

“Damn, girl. Is it your time of the month or did you just
wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning? I’ve never seen you so
pissed off.”

“It’s this stupid fucking drawer. It won’t open.”

Cheryl stopped and placed her tray on the counter. “You
gotta hit it directly on the left corner,” she said, banging the drawer. It
popped open, and Jill fought the urge to smack the smug grin off her friend’s
face.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Cheryl chastised. “You’re the
one who taught me how to open it. Now why don’t you tell me what’s really
bothering you.”

“The men’s room toilet is clogged, and I can’t find one
lousy plumber in this godforsaken town to come fix it.”

“Um, Jill,” Lottie said through the order window, “now the
women’s toilet is clogged too.”

Jill turned and scowled at the young waitress, who hastily
backed away to continue refilling the salt and pepper shakers.

Cheryl placed a comforting hand on Jill’s shoulder. “Now,
honey, before you get upset, you might want to reconsider Wes’ offer to help.”

“No,” she replied sharply.

“Why not? Ever since Seth stopped working around here, we’ve
been letting some things slide. It’s time to start getting these repairs done
or the place is gonna fall down on our heads.”

“It’s not that bad,” Jill said, though she knew Cheryl’s
words were true. Every day, something else in the old building stopped
functioning. If they didn’t start taking control of the situation, they’d end
up having to shut down for major renovations.

Cheryl raised her eyebrows. “What’s your problem with Wes?”

“Who says I have a problem with him?”

“He’s the answer to a prayer, and you know it,” Cheryl
replied. “We need help, Jill Harper, and Wes has offered it. I just don’t get
it. You’ve got yourself a six-foot Adonis practically begging to help and
you’re saying no.”

“Adonis,” Jill scoffed.

“With that light-brown hair and deep green eyes. Mmm. I’m
old enough to be that boy’s mother and he still melts my butter. What is it
about him that bothers you so much?”

Jill crossed her arms and tapped her toe. “For your
information, Wes Robson does
not
bother me.”

“I certainly hope not,” came Wes’ deep voice from behind
her. He’d come in the back entrance. “I mean, in my defense, I just got here.
Unless, of course,” he added, walking up so close behind her, Jill could feel
his warm breath in her hair, “it’s the ‘hot and bothered’ kind of bothering.
Then I don’t mind so much. Hell, I could even take care of that for you. I
am
a very handy man. Is your butter melting, Jill?”

“You knew he was behind me,” Jill accused her friend, but
Cheryl merely gave her a mischievous grin.

“Why are you here?” Jill muttered to Wes, refusing to turn
around to look at the damn man who was melting a hell of a lot more than butter
in her body.

“I’ll just let you two sort this out,” Cheryl said, waving
and heading for the door. “Breakfast shift is over. I’m locking the front door
and going up to my apartment. If you don’t find somebody to fix those toilets
pronto, we might as well dump the lunch special in the garbage and leave the
doors locked, because there’s no way we can open. Lottie,” she called out as
she left, “wanna come upstairs and watch
The View
with me?”

Jill listened as her two waitresses tromped up the stairs,
then she turned to watch Wes put a toolbox on the counter.

“Toilet problems?” he asked.

“Dammit, Wes, I mean it. What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to work,” he replied.

“That’s funny. I don’t recall hiring you,” she answered.

She constantly struggled to recapture the wits he wiped away
simply by being in the same room. She prided herself on being an independent,
intelligent woman, but two minutes in his presence always reduced her to a
quivering mass of goo. Damn if she didn’t want him, and she was usually not the
type of girl to deny herself her pleasures. However, in Wes’ case, giving in
would be the very worst thing she could do, and for reasons she hadn’t shared
with him yesterday.

Undeterred, Wes opened up his toolbox and started digging
through his tools. “Cheryl mentioned a drawer that’s sticking and a clogged
drain here in the kitchen, but it sounds like I’d better tackle the restrooms
first.”

“Stop ignoring me as if I’m not speaking. I’m not hiring
you.”

“Why not?”

His question caught her off guard. She knew Wes was a
jack-of-all-trades and that he was perfectly capable of doing most of the small
jobs she needed taken care of. Since he’d resigned from the DEA, he was looking
for work. Rick had been his partner on the force, and he’d managed to forge his
new career by opening up a small bike shop.

“I don’t have a lot of extra money to hire someone on.” It
was a lie, but she grasped it with both hands.

“You advertised for the position.”

She blew out an exasperated breath. “Yeah, well, I mean it
would only be part time.”

“I didn’t plan on setting up office hours or draining your
accounts, pixie,” he said.

Jill picked up the phonebook and glanced at the list of
plumbers. She’d exhausted her options and she knew it. Madison had two
full-time plumbers and at this moment, one of them was at a convention in Vegas
and the other had pneumonia. It would cost a fortune to pay one to come out
from Harrisburg for an emergency call. With the distance between Madison and
its larger neighboring city, the plumber still wouldn’t make it here in time
for her to open for lunch.

“Fine. You can fix the toilets.”

Wes laughed. “What an honor.”

“But that’s it. You’re not going to be my handyman.”

Wes shook his head and walked closer. She fought the urge to
take a step back, refusing to let him intimidate her as he had yesterday. She’d
had time to batten down her hatches and prepare herself for the onslaught.

“I’ll fix your toilets, but only on two conditions.”

“What conditions?”

“One, you hire me in this position for good, and two, you
agree to my wages.”

She was silent as she tried to find a way out of her
predicament. Surely there was some way she could get the repairs done without
selling her soul to the devil. She racked her brain but came up with nothing.

Her love for the diner won out. She needed help and, God
help her, Wes Robson appeared to be the only man in town available to fulfill
her needs. As soon as the word
needs
crossed her mind, a flush heated
her cheeks. She had some definite needs she could envision Wes fulfilling. Of
course, Wes noticed her blush immediately and grinned.

Before he could say anything, she asked, “How much do you
want?”

“Are you hiring me?”

“Yes,” she snapped. “I’m hiring you. How much do you charge
an hour?”

“I don’t come cheap,” he teased her.

She closed her eyes and prayed for patience. “How much,
Wes?”

“For every hour of work I do around the diner, you agree to
spend one hour alone with me.”

Her eyes snapped open. This was bad. Very, very bad. “I’d
rather pay you money.”

“No. I don’t want money from you, pixie.”

She placed her hands on her hips. “If you think I’m going to
trade sexual favors for—”

“I didn’t say sex. I said an hour alone with me.”

“Doing what?”

“Dating, of course. Going out for drinks, dancing. Hell, we
could rent a movie and watch it in your apartment for all I care. And if you
feel so inclined as to have sex with me, that would be cool too.” His eyes were
dancing, and she knew he was enjoying that—in this instance—he definitely had
the upper hand.

“Dating,” she repeated, her body going a bit numb at the
idea. She was fighting a losing battle and knew it. She closed her eyes,
silently hoping that blocking out his gorgeous face would help her resist.

For weeks, she’d dreamed of Wes’ kisses under the mistletoe.
His lips should be registered as a lethal weapon. More than a few nights, she’d
crawled from her bed into the shower, forcing herself to stand beneath the
freezing water in an attempt to cool the burning desires he’d set aflame inside
her. “I’m sorry. Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t I tell you just yesterday
that I didn’t want to date you?”

Wes shrugged. “You gave me some lame reasons.”

“I don’t consider them lame.”

“I want some time to show you we’re good together.”

She closed her eyes, overwhelmed with frustration. Talking
to Wes was like talking to a brick wall. She’d admit—only to herself—that her
first couple of reasons for wanting to avoid Wes had been mere diversions, weak
attempts at building a stronger case for the truth. She couldn’t date him. She
really couldn’t. However, pride would never allow her to speak the real reason.