apologize,” she said grudgingly. “That was exceedingly rude. Excuse me, won’t you? I’ll just go throw on some clothes.”
She felt his gaze like hands running up and down her body. “Don’t feel you have to do so on my account,” he said, and even though his tone was perfectly respectful, she still managed to read all sorts of innuendo and suggestiveness into his words.
With a meaningless social smile, she pivoted on her bare heel. What was wrong with her? You’d think she’d just gotten out of junior high school. Closing the door of the guest room behind her, she leaned back against it for a moment. She had to quit being so damn reactionary. It wasn’t as if he were some troublesome guest who would be gone in a day or two.
Dru went to the chest of drawers where she kept a revolving supply of clothing. Maybe he’d get bored with country living and go back to the life he knewbest. At least that’s what she fervently hoped as she pulled out a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.
She peeled off her bathing suit and stepped into the jeans, tugging them up her damp legs. Maybe, if she was very, very lucky, J.D. would grow tired of playing innkeeper and agree to have his checks sent to him. Then she could reclaim the serene life she’d built for herself and Tate.
And that’s exactly what she told her best friend later that night on the phone. After she’d put Tate to bed, she’d tried to settle down as she picked up his toys and wiped crumbs off the breakfast bar that divided the kitchen from the living area of the spacious attic apartment at the lodge. But the dormered ceilings, which usually made her feel comfily tucked in, seemed to close in on her, and not even the magnificent view of wooded hills rolling down to the valley worked its soothing magic. Tracking down the cordless phone receiver to the rag rug beneath the antique coffee table, she picked it up and punched out Char’s number.
She and Char had met on the swim float the summer before she’d moved in permanently with Ben and Sophie. Although opposites in many ways, the two girls had hit it off the moment they’d met, when Dru had seen Char doing handstands off the low board into the water and demanded to be taught how to do it. Char was her closest friend, her confidante, and her lifeline to sanity when life turned crazy. Which it’d certainly done with a vengeance today.
She poured out her concerns the moment her friend picked up.
Char’s snort carried clearly over the telephone line. “So let me get this straight. The new partner turns out to be one-hundred-proof testosterone in construction boots—a guy who in less than twelve hours has managed to get your juices flowing for the first time in it’s-been-so-long-I-can’t-even-remember—but you think if you’re lucky, he’ll go back to where he came from? Hel-lo ! Wake up and smell the pheromones, Drucilla Jean. You’ve been on ice way too long as it is.”
“Hey, I like being on ice—it sure beats making a major ass of myself.” Dru walked over to the tiny window seat and tossed its brightly patterned pillows to one end in order to make room for herself. “I’m telling you, Char, I get around this guy and I don’t even recognize myself. Remember that little stoolie Sandy Heston, back in the sixth grade? The one who was forever tattling to the teacher? That was me tonight. One minute we’re all sitting around the table, and Carver’s practically licking his damn bowl—not to mention sucking up to Auntie Soph over how good the crème brûlée is.”
Okay, that wasn’t fair, but she couldn’t bear to think of the look on his face as he’d scraped his ramekin clean—as if he’d never known such a taste sensation existed. He probably hadn’t had the easiest time of it growing up, and when he’d seen everybody looking at him and simply said, “This is great,” to Aunt Soph, the pinch of empathy she’d felt had scared the hell out of her.
“And?” Char demanded when
She felt his gaze like hands running up and down her body. “Don’t feel you have to do so on my account,” he said, and even though his tone was perfectly respectful, she still managed to read all sorts of innuendo and suggestiveness into his words.
With a meaningless social smile, she pivoted on her bare heel. What was wrong with her? You’d think she’d just gotten out of junior high school. Closing the door of the guest room behind her, she leaned back against it for a moment. She had to quit being so damn reactionary. It wasn’t as if he were some troublesome guest who would be gone in a day or two.
Dru went to the chest of drawers where she kept a revolving supply of clothing. Maybe he’d get bored with country living and go back to the life he knewbest. At least that’s what she fervently hoped as she pulled out a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.
She peeled off her bathing suit and stepped into the jeans, tugging them up her damp legs. Maybe, if she was very, very lucky, J.D. would grow tired of playing innkeeper and agree to have his checks sent to him. Then she could reclaim the serene life she’d built for herself and Tate.
And that’s exactly what she told her best friend later that night on the phone. After she’d put Tate to bed, she’d tried to settle down as she picked up his toys and wiped crumbs off the breakfast bar that divided the kitchen from the living area of the spacious attic apartment at the lodge. But the dormered ceilings, which usually made her feel comfily tucked in, seemed to close in on her, and not even the magnificent view of wooded hills rolling down to the valley worked its soothing magic. Tracking down the cordless phone receiver to the rag rug beneath the antique coffee table, she picked it up and punched out Char’s number.
She and Char had met on the swim float the summer before she’d moved in permanently with Ben and Sophie. Although opposites in many ways, the two girls had hit it off the moment they’d met, when Dru had seen Char doing handstands off the low board into the water and demanded to be taught how to do it. Char was her closest friend, her confidante, and her lifeline to sanity when life turned crazy. Which it’d certainly done with a vengeance today.
She poured out her concerns the moment her friend picked up.
Char’s snort carried clearly over the telephone line. “So let me get this straight. The new partner turns out to be one-hundred-proof testosterone in construction boots—a guy who in less than twelve hours has managed to get your juices flowing for the first time in it’s-been-so-long-I-can’t-even-remember—but you think if you’re lucky, he’ll go back to where he came from? Hel-lo ! Wake up and smell the pheromones, Drucilla Jean. You’ve been on ice way too long as it is.”
“Hey, I like being on ice—it sure beats making a major ass of myself.” Dru walked over to the tiny window seat and tossed its brightly patterned pillows to one end in order to make room for herself. “I’m telling you, Char, I get around this guy and I don’t even recognize myself. Remember that little stoolie Sandy Heston, back in the sixth grade? The one who was forever tattling to the teacher? That was me tonight. One minute we’re all sitting around the table, and Carver’s practically licking his damn bowl—not to mention sucking up to Auntie Soph over how good the crème brûlée is.”
Okay, that wasn’t fair, but she couldn’t bear to think of the look on his face as he’d scraped his ramekin clean—as if he’d never known such a taste sensation existed. He probably hadn’t had the easiest time of it growing up, and when he’d seen everybody looking at him and simply said, “This is great,” to Aunt Soph, the pinch of empathy she’d felt had scared the hell out of her.
“And?” Char demanded when
Similar Books
