Chapter Twelve
Adam leaned back on the last of the beds he’d just assembled and watched Jane work on the maps she’d spread out all over the floor. For hours, she’d been chatting about getting them on the wall and covering them in clear shellac, instead of a mural. At least he no longer had to commission one of those.
He’d given up fighting her ideas. They were too good. And they were nearing a twelve-hour day that had been one of the most productive he’d had in ages. They’d zipped over to some appliance shop in the next town and ordered everything for delivery early next week, did the same with some furniture she liked, and while he installed a cabinet, she lugged all her historical finds into the boathouse and started planning the design.
They broke for dinner at No Man’s Land, but that was hours ago, and he was dead on his feet. But she showed no signs of slowing.
“Man, I thought I was tenacious,” he mused, studying her.
She looked up at the comment. “I thought you wanted progress.”
What he wanted was…attention. Hers. But she buzzed like a little bee, humming, talking to herself, moving around, slapping paint chips on different walls, and climbing up and down the loft ladder to get various views.
His view, when not working on beds and cabinets, was mostly of her. Because the harder she worked, the prettier she got.
She’d clipped her hair up, but many loose strands had fallen around her cheeks and neck, giving Adam the urge to sit next to her and brush those silky locks off her cheeks. Maybe unclip it all and run his hands through every sexy inch of her hair.
She wore a simple white T-shirt that he could see right down when she was on her hands and knees, like she was that very second. The angle gave him a glimpse of a lace bra that looked delicate and flimsy and full of soft, round breasts he ached to feel against him.
Her jeans were old, faded, and had little tears in the knees that he wanted to slip his fingers into and tickle her legs.
Yeah. Definitely quittin’ time.
“Oh, I haven’t seen this one.” She gingerly opened a map.
“Don’t you think it’s time to call it a night?”
“All you’ve done for days is tell me to start,” she said, her attention on the yellowed paper. “So now I’m—oh my God, Adam!” She looked up, eyes wide. “Lieutenant General George S. Patton!”
“What about him?”
“He signed this map.” She got up on her knees, extending the map like it was burning her fingers.
“Lemme see.”
Still on her knees, she came closer, holding the deeply folded military map toward him. “Is that possible? It’s Patton’s real signature?”
“Entirely. He was the general who beat the Germans at the Battle of the Bulge. Sounds like the kind of company John Westbrook would keep, even during a war.”
“Why on earth would he give up something with a famous general’s signature on it?”
He shrugged, taking the map, which was heavily marked and definitely signed, for whatever reason, by Patton himself.
“Should we give it back to him?”
“We can. Or Ryder might want it, if it belongs to a Westbrook. Ask my grandfather first.”
She sank down on her knees, much closer to him, right where he wanted her. “You see how bad this town needs a museum?”
Yeah, that idea again. The boathouse as a museum in the off-season. He had to admit it had merit, but it was also the last thing he wanted to think about now.
“Hildie wanted to do it, but after her son died, and then Michael died, she just didn’t have the motivation. I should mention this to Harper.”
He frowned. “Who’s Harper?”
“The new librarian,” she said. “Or maybe Ryder, since he’s expanding the airport.”
Laughing a little, he carefully refolded the map. “Listen to you. Getting to know your way around Eagle’s Ridge pretty well.”
“Oh, I wish.”
He put the map on a box nearby and turned to her, not sure he’d heard right. “You wish you knew your way around here?” He couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice.
And she couldn’t keep the faint color out of her cheeks, as if embarrassed at the admission. “I mean, it’s a great town. It has deep history. Roots and families and all that military spirit.” She attempted a casual shrug and sat down on the floor, crossing her legs. “All this design work has me thinking about the town, I guess.”
“Is that what it is?” He searched her face and let their bodies naturally come closer together so that her knees touched his legs. “Or are you getting a little crush on Eagle’s Ridge?”
That made her smile. “Maybe a little. This place isn’t like anything I’ve ever experienced before. I’ve never lived anywhere but…” She caught herself. “Miami.”
“Careful, Jane. You might let a new personal fact slip out.”
“My bad.”
He took her hand and lined her up so they were face-to-face. “No, it’s good. You know why?”
“Why?”
“I told you, I only kiss women I know very well. The more I know, the more I can…” He leaned closer and placed the lightest kiss on her forehead. “So, you were born and raised in Miami?”
He heard her sigh. “Yeah.”
And he kissed her again. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“I’ve never been west of the Mississippi until this trip.”
He drew back. “Really?”
“I’ve never had money for travel,” she said, keeping her face down and not looking at him. “Everything I’ve had I used to get my education and then start my consulting business. It really only just took off in the last two years, but I had so much work, I couldn’t go anywhere.”
Letting that sink in, he used his fingertips to tip her chin. “That was a lot of real information,” he said with a slight smile. “I’m going to have to kiss you for that.”
She smiled back. “Yeah. You better.”
He did, slowly, sweetly, barely a real kiss. He wanted to hold back and get more from her. More kisses. More revelations.
When she leaned back, she slipped her lower lip under her teeth as if she were still tasting him. “You’re good at that.”
“Kissing?”
“Getting me to tell you stuff.”
He put his hands on her shoulders and slowly slid them up each side to her neck, threading his fingers into her hair until he reached a clip that he snapped out, and it all came tumbling down. “Your hair kills me.”
“In a good way?” She shook her head a little, letting the waves fall.
“In a ‘I want to bury myself in it’ way.”
“Mmm.” She leaned into him, turning her head to offer him access to do just that. Pressing his face into the black silk, he inhaled and felt her shudder when he breathed on her neck. “It’s my natural hair color.”
He lifted his head. “I never doubted that.”
She gave him a teasing look. “That was personal information, Adam. It counts.”
“Oh, you want to be kissed again.”
Smiling, she gave a tiny nod. “Maybe once.”
“Maybe twice.” He wrapped his arms around her and easily pulled her onto his lap, leaning back into the side of one of the bunk beds as they kissed longer and deeper and with way more intention than they ever had.
His blood instantly heated, leaving his brain and heading south. “See how easy it is to get what you want?” he whispered, tipping her head back to kiss her throat and rub his thumb along her collarbone.
“All I have to do is talk.”
“Truth talk,” he reminded her. “You can’t just make things up to get me to do what you want.” He held her gaze while his fingertips slowly trailed down her breastbone, almost not touching her, but he instantly felt her rock slightly in response. “So tell me something, Jane.”
She let out the softest breath and dropped her head back a little bit, silent, her bottom sinking a little deeper and heavier on his lap. “That feels good,” she said, whispering the words into his ear with a kiss. “I wish it didn’t feel quite that good, but it does.”
The sexy words tightened him, hardened him, and made her fully aware of what she was doing to him. What they were doing to each other.
But she was still practically a stranger. And that slayed him. “How about your middle name?”
She laughed lightly. “Yours really is Tenacious.”
“True.” He kissed her some more, turning her a little, inviting her to straddle his hips. Their tongues tangled, and he lost a little control and moved his hand over her breast, rewarded with a moan and a precious budded nipple against his palm.
“Anne,” she whispered.
“Jane Anne.” He dragged this new information out with the same slow intention he caressed her breast.
“Mmm.” She heated up the kiss, taking what she’d earned with her next revelation. “The two plainest names in the world.”
“I think Jane Anne is the sexiest…” He thumbed her nipple. “Sweetest…” He settled his other hand on her ass. “Softest name I’ve ever heard.”
She rocked over him, wrapping her arms around his neck for full-body contact. “You’re crazy.”
“Getting there.” He rose and fell as their breathing grew as tight as his jeans. “One more little tidbit of information and the boathouse is going to get christened.”
She stilled and lifted her head, meeting his gaze with hooded, heavy, arousal-dark eyes. “Would that be so bad?”
“No, it would be so good. But…” He stroked her breast again, holding her gaze for the fun of watching what one single thumb could do to her. He could do so much more. “You need to know it won’t be enough.”
She studied him. “You want inside and out, don’t you?”
He slipped a finger into sweet, warm cleavage. “Yes, I do.”
“Sex isn’t enough for you?” Her voice was tight, tentative.
“We can start with sex.” He kissed her, delving his finger deeper, growing harder with each silky touch. “But I want to know who you are. What you’re made of. Why you are so freaking sexy and vulnerable and…” He moaned, touching a hot, smooth nipple. “Did I mention sexy?”
He felt her stiffen, felt all the sweet melting of her body disappear. “No.”
“Jane.” He slid his hand up to cup her face. “Jane Anne…whoever you are. What is it that you are so scared of sharing with me?”
She just looked at him, shocking him as her eyes grew moist. “Everything,” she echoed. “No one is allowed in. No one.”
“Why not?” He searched his brain for a possible reason for her secrecy and came up with only one thing. She wasn’t who or what she said at all. That was the only explanation for her wall of silence about so many things.
“Because I draw that line. I’m not sharing my deepest and darkest secrets with you, Adam. My body? Yeah. Please. But that’s all.”
Disappointment thudded. “I want more,” he admitted in a husky voice.
“You think telling you the things I prefer to keep buried is going to make sex better?”
He drew back. “No. I think it’s going to make you better.”
“I’m fine.”
Really. He stroked her cheek, pulling her closer to inhale the sweet, floral scent of her hair and whisper in her ear, “You’re not fine, Jane Anne Whoever. You need an emotional lifeline, and I’m just the rescuer to throw it.”
She moaned a little, shivered, and pressed her mouth to his shoulder. Then she lifted up her head and looked him right in the eyes. “No, thank you.”
Damn it. Damn it.
“Then I’ll sleep alone.” Very slowly, he eased her off his lap, seeing the flash of disappointment in her eyes. Or maybe a little relief. He ached, miserably hard, his whole body humming with the need for release.
His body. Not his brain and not his heart.
A liar, a fake, a woman who could disappear tomorrow and he’d never know where to find her? It didn’t matter how much he wanted her.
“I’ll walk you back to my place, then sleep in here again tonight.”
She closed her eyes. “Okay.”