Chapter Three
Rachel sat at the kitchen island, sipping her coffee and staring moodily at the digital clock over the oven. It was just nine a.m. She’d been up since dawn, partly because her body was still on East Coast time, and partly because her parents and the Colters had left for the airport around five a.m., and she’d risen to say good-bye to them.
But that had been hours ago, and she’d already showered, dressed, and consumed more than her daily share of caffeine. Now she wondered how she would fill the remainder of the day. She hadn’t been back to Glacier Creek in a couple of years, so she could head into town and do some shopping, or maybe just sit by the lake. Neither option appealed to her.
Should she go across the street to check on Jamie, or wait for him to contact her? They hadn’t even seen each other since that first morning in the driveway, never mind talked about what he might need from her in the way of personal concierge services.
Did he even know she’d been hired to provide those services to him? Her mother had assured her he’d been told, and that he was delighted. But what if she’d fibbed? Jamie wasn’t like her usual clients, who were either too rich or too lazy to do anything for themselves. He might actually resent her interference in his life. Not everyone appreciated a helping hand. Aside from running a few routine errands, she couldn’t foresee him asking much of her.
Setting her coffee mug down, she stood up and grabbed her tablet. Better to just get it over with. With luck, he might decide he didn’t need any help from her while his parents were gone, and she could just focus on getting her own life in order. She strode across the street before she could change her mind, and rang the doorbell. Several long minutes passed while Rachel stood on the steps clutching her tablet with hands that were damp with nerves, her heart beating hard. When there was no answer, she turned away, feeling a rush of both relief and disappointment.
The door opened.
She turned back, an apologetic smile pasted on her face, and her mouth fell open. Jamie stood in the doorway, looking overtly male and extremely aggravated. She didn’t have to guess why. He’d obviously been in the shower. He wore nothing but a green trash bag over his injured leg, cinched tight at the thigh with duct tape, and a pair of soft, cotton shorts that clung to his damp body and revealed more of his masculine assets than they concealed. Water glistened on his naked shoulders and chest, and dripped onto the floor beneath his foot.
“Oh,” Rachel finally choked, embarrassed beyond words. “I am so sorry! I had no idea you’d be in the shower!” She almost put a hand up to her eyes to prevent herself from staring at his body. His incredibly toned and muscular body. She spun away. “I’ll come back later.”
“No, it’s fine.” His voice sounded gravelly. “You’re here now, and I went through all kinds of hell trying to get my shorts on when I heard the doorbell, so you might as well come in.”
His words inspired a mental image of him, naked and wet and struggling to get dressed, that caused a rush of warmth to Rachel’s midsection.
“I can come back,” she insisted, but he’d already retreated inside, leaving her with no option but to follow him.
Despite having lived across the street her entire life, Rachel had never been inside their house, and she saw with a sense of surprise the decor was modern and fresh. A double set of French doors opened from the kitchen onto a large, backyard deck that overlooked an in-ground swimming pool. Although it was only June and still cool, two wide umbrellas had been set up near the pool chairs, and the pool itself looked clear and blue.
“How do you like your coffee?”
Jamie had pulled two mugs out of a cupboard and was pouring coffee into each.
“A little cream, no sugar.”
Leaning on his crutches, he opened the fridge and withdrew a container of cream and set it on the island, before sliding her coffee toward her. Rachel couldn’t help but notice the play of muscles along his ribs as he moved, and quickly occupied herself with mixing her coffee. She watched covertly as Jamie rummaged in a drawer and pulled out a pair of scissors, and then began carefully cutting away the duct tape that secured the trash bag to his thigh.
“This is the worst part,” he muttered, wincing as the tape pulled at his leg hair, before finally coming free. He pushed at the plastic bag, and tried unsuccessfully to kick it away.
“Here,” Rachel said quickly. “Let me.”
Before he could protest, she came around the island and leaned forward to push the wet bag down the length of the plaster cast until she could work it free of his leg, taking care not to let the water touch the cast. He smelled like fresh soap and shampoo, and she could see the whorls of golden hair on his thigh above the cast, and where the tape had left a mark on his skin. Flicking her gaze upward, she saw the wide scar on his abdomen. Up close, it was shiny and pink, and disappeared beneath the elastic waistband of his shorts. Suddenly aware he wore nothing beneath the soft, damp cotton, Rachel rose jerkily to her feet. Retreating to the other side of the kitchen, she balled up the trash bag and shoved it inside the trash bin, not looking at Jamie.
“My mom told me about your personal concierge business,” Jamie said, easing himself onto a stool and leaning his crutches against the counter.
“Well, it’s not my concierge business,” she said cautiously, returning to the opposite side of the island, and curling her hands around her mug of coffee. “I worked for a global organization. I was literally just one of hundreds of personal assistants.”
“Worked?” he asked, arching an eyebrow. “As in past tense?”
Rachel nodded. “I’m turning in my resignation. I’m thinking about opening my own business in the Monterey or Santa Barbara area.”
Jamie gave a huff of surprised laughter. “Wow. Good for you.”
She peered at him. “You think it’s a good idea?”
“Hell, yeah. Monterey is filled with people who have more money than motivation. You’ll probably have to turn clients away.”
“That’s what I’m hoping,” she admitted.
“Speaking of which, I understand you’ve offered to help me out while our folks are on vacation.”
Rachel barely prevented herself from rolling her eyes, but she didn’t contradict him.
“Okay,” he said, grinning. “So maybe you didn’t volunteer. But I appreciate you didn’t refuse. If my mom had canceled the cruise and stayed home, I’m not sure what I would have done. Gone a little nuts, I think.”
His expression was so forlorn that Rachel laughed. “I totally get it, and I promise not to smother you.”
Jamie stopped in the act of raising his coffee cup to pin her with a meaningful look. “Oh, no,” he protested. “You go right ahead and smother me as much as you’d like. You won’t hear a word of protest from me.”
And there it was again, a frisson of awareness that hummed in the air between them like static electricity, causing the fine hair on her arms to stand up. Rachel looked away first, unsettled by the frank challenge in his eyes. She turned on her tablet and pretended to be engrossed in pulling up her list of client services.
“Well,” she began, and to her dismay her voice sounded high and breathy. She cleared her throat and strove for a more dignified tone. “I’ve put together a list of services you might find useful.”
She slid the tablet across the counter toward him.
Jamie scanned the list and nodded. “This is just about what I had in mind. But there are a few other things I’m not sure about…”
His voice trailed off, and Rachel gave him an encouraging smile, hoping fervently he didn’t take the conversation into the gutter. “Like what?”
He scrubbed a hand across the back of his neck. Rachel tried not to notice how the movement displayed his impressive bicep, or the fact his underarm hair was dark gold. She swallowed convulsively and forced herself to focus.
“Well, I do pretty well taking care of myself, but I’d rather not go a full two weeks without changing the sheets on my bed. I’m just not sure I can manage it alone.” He peered at her. “Is that asking too much?”
Rachel smiled in relief. “No, of course not. I’d be happy to make your bed up each day, and change the sheets. In fact, I can do the laundry, and prepare meals for you if you’d like.” She shrugged. “I’m not a gourmet chef, but I do okay.”
“Jeez.” He sounded impressed. “You’d do all that? I don’t want to turn you into a Cinderella.”
“It’s only for two weeks,” she said drily. “And I’m getting paid very well for doing it.”
“But this must be a little different than what you’re normally accustomed to doing for your clients, right?”
“I’ve pretty much done everything,” she hedged, feeling distracted by the sight of all that exposed skin over taut muscles. “I had several single moms whom I did shopping and household errands for, so I’m not completely out of my element.”
Jamie took a swallow of his coffee, seeming completely comfortable. “So what’s the most bizarre request you ever had? Can you share that, or is there some confidentiality rule you can’t break?”
“I do sign a nondisclosure statement for some of my clients, but in any case, I would never reveal a client’s name.”
Jamie leaned over the island counter. “So what’s the strangest thing you ever had to do?”
The gleam of anticipation in his blue eyes was too much to resist, and Rachel found herself responding to his conspiratorial grin.
“Well,” she began carefully, “I once had a client whose little girl lost her Disney pressed coin collection, so my client sent me to Orlando to visit all the pressed coin machines, and re-create her collection.”
Jamie’s mouth opened, and he gave a shout of laughter. “You’re kidding! What are we talking about, fifty or so machines?”
Rachel gave him a tolerant look. “Try four hundred and sixty-seven machines.”
Jamie whistled. “No kidding?”
“No kidding.” Rachel shrugged. “From a purely cost perspective, it wasn’t a hugely expensive job, but it was definitely one of the stranger things I’ve been asked to do.”
“Have you ever had a request you couldn’t deliver on?” Interpreting her warning look, he added hastily, “I mean, aside from those that are just plain illegal or immoral.”
Rachel thought for a moment. “There was a client who was traveling to China for business, and he wanted a private tour of an archeological site that has never been open to the public. I did everything I could, but there was no getting around the Chinese government.”
“My heart bleeds for the poor guy,” Jamie said, grinning.
“We arranged for him and his wife to have a catered, moonlight dinner on top of the Great Wall, instead.”
Jamie looked suitably impressed. “And here I thought you just did errands and odd jobs.”
“Nope.” Rachel found herself smiling back at him. “I do it all, from travel plans, and tickets to sold-out shows, to event planning, personal shopping, and holiday decorating.”
They were silent for a long moment, until Rachel realized she was staring at him like a love-struck teen. Embarrassed, she dragged her attention back to her tablet, and strove for a professional, businesslike tone.
“So, um, why don’t you get dressed, and I’ll begin putting together some recommendations. Let’s start by reviewing your daily schedule, and then we can decide what you might need.”
“Sure. Give me a minute, and I’ll be right back.”
She watched covertly as Jamie pushed himself to his feet and positioned his crutches. He swung away from her, and she watched the play of muscles in his back as he made his way across the kitchen. Only then did she see he had a second scar on his lower back that matched the one on his abdomen. She didn’t want to think about what that meant.
She tried—and failed—not to notice how fine his ass looked beneath the soft fabric of his shorts. When he finally disappeared from view, she let her head fall into her hands, and groaned.
How was she going to get through the next two weeks? How was she ever going to maintain a professional distance from the guy, when everything he did made her pulse quicken? From the teasing glint in his blue eyes, to his contagious grin and amazing body, Jamie Colter was freaking gorgeous, and she had a suspicion he was also pretty sharp. She vaguely recalled when her brother, Dylan, had left for college, Jamie had headed to the nearest Marine Corps recruitment center. Rachel’s mother had been dumbfounded, and had mentioned to Rachel on more than one occasion that Jamie could have gotten an academic scholarship to any college he wanted. But he’d been intent on serving his country, instead. Call her sappy, but Rachel found that pretty appealing. Especially when compared to what her husband, Deke, had chosen to do, which was absolutely nothing aside from spending his inheritance as fast as he could.
Ex-husband, she reminded herself.
Pushing away from the counter, she walked over to the French doors and looked unseeingly at the swimming pool. How was it that just days after her divorce, she found herself looking at another man? Granted, she hadn’t lived with Deke for the last two years, and she hadn’t had any romantic relationships during that time. Her job had left her with little time or energy for that, and she acknowledged that marriage to Deke had done a number on her self-esteem.
But now, with this new assignment…
She had promised both her mother and Mrs. Colter she would be exclusively available for Jamie for the next two weeks. She didn’t think she had imagined the interest in Jamie’s eyes when he looked at her, but did she have the courage to explore just how far his interest might go?
“Hey, sorry to keep you waiting.”
Rachel turned around to see Jamie making his way back into the kitchen. He’d pulled on a well-worn, faded T-shirt with the Superman logo on the front, and a more substantial pair of cargo shorts. While she missed seeing his bare chest, she silently acknowledged the soft fabric of the shirt did nothing to detract from the hard planes of his chest.
“No worries,” she replied, keeping her tone light. Coming to stand beside him, she opened her tablet with a swipe of her finger across the screen, and pulled up the standard questionnaire she used for all her clients. “Let’s start with a few basic questions. What time do you typically get up in the morning?”
“Depends on what time I go to bed the night before,” he said, slanting her a lazy grin. “And what I’m doing after I go to bed. I don’t always sleep.”
His suggestive words immediately conjured up erotic images that sent heat flooding into Rachel’s face, even as her heartbeat accelerated. It had been years since a guy had made her feel the way Jamie made her feel now—sexy and desirable. But the thought of being with Jamie—of being with someone so virile and gorgeous and young—brought back all the insecurities she’d tried so hard to get past after her marriage to Deke had disintegrated. Because if what Deke had said was true, she was too boring and uptight to appeal to any man. Did she have the courage to prove him wrong?