All of Me Page 14

  “How ’bout some tunes?” he said after a long minute of watching her.

  “Huh?” Jillian raised her head and met his eyes, but immediately her gaze skittered off his like striking marbles. He fully understood her reluctance to make eye contact. He wasn’t exactly thrilled with the jolt of awareness that passed through him every time their gazes met.

  “Music,” he said.

  “Music?” she echoed.

  He nodded toward the radio perched on the top of the bookshelf behind her.

  “Oh, okay.” She got up and turned on the radio. She played with the dial. Classical music poured from the speakers. She sat back down.

  “You gotta be kidding me.”

  Jillian heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Something wrong?”

  “You’re seriously going to listen to that?”

  “Mozart. It’ll boost your IQ.”

  “Maybe I don’t want my IQ boosted. Maybe I like being dumb.”

  “Clearly. What would you like to hear?”

  “Country and western.”

  Jillian made gagging noises.

  “What? You’re from Texas. Aren’t you required by law to like country and western?”

  “Precisely why I don’t like country-and-western music. Force-fed Merle Haggard and George Jones and Dolly Parton as a kid. Scarred me for life.”

  “All right, then. I’ll settle for rock or pop or hip-hop. Anything but that mind-numbing Mozart.”

  “I can’t listen to music with lyrics while I work. It messes with my concentration.”

  “Okay, so forget the tunes.”

  She snapped the radio off. “Go ahead, be culturally bereft. See if I care.”

  Tuck watched her go back to her laptop, his gaze trailing over the gentle slope of her ass.

  Tell her the real reason you don’t want to listen to Mozart. Tell her about all the times you took Aimee to the symphony. How she loved classical music and the sound of it reminds you too much of her.

  “Jillian, I …”

  “Yes?” She looked at him expectantly.

  “Nothing,” he mumbled. He didn’t even know her. He couldn’t tell her this private stuff.

  She went back to her laptop.

  Tuck tried to return to his work, but time and again, he found his eyes drawn to her. In spite of himself, he kept thinking about the vision he’d had of her in the sweat lodge. The temptress. It was damned eerie and unsettling.

  She got up and made her way over to Sutter’s filing cabinets. He couldn’t help admiring the way her hips swayed when she moved.

  After riffling through the top drawer a moment, she bent lower, going for the bottom drawer. Tuck canted his head, appreciating how the conservative gray wool skirt tightened over the curve of her ass.

  Very nice.

  He shifted for a better look.

  His knee slipped off the support beam. He tried to right himself, but it was too late; his balance was compromised, and the Sheetrock was weakened from water damage. Tuck heard the ceiling crack ominously beneath his weight at the same time he felt it give away.

  Next thing he knew, gravity had hold of him and it was all over.

  Chapter Ten

  Tuck fell through the hole in the attic, slamming onto Sutter’s office floor with a resounding bang.

  Jillian let out a startled scream, sucked in a deep breath, and tasted Sheetrock dust. She spun around to find Tuck lying on his back at her feet.

  “Tuck, Tuck, are you okay?” She squatted beside him.

  His eyes were closed and his breathing shallow. He moaned softly when she touched him.

  “Tuck, look at me.”

  He opened his eyes, peered up at her, and blinked.

  Jillian raised her palm. “Tell me, how many fingers am I holding up?”

  Groggily, he shook his head, grunted.

  Oh dear, this wasn’t good. “Speak to me.”

  He grinned up at her. “Hi.”

  “Hi? That’s all you have to say? Hi?”

  “You look worried. Why are you worried? You get the cutest little wrinkle line between your eyebrows when you frown.”

  Jillian pressed the pad of her thumb between her eyes and stopped frowning. “Of course I look worried—you just came crashing through the ceiling.”

  “I did?”

  “You don’t remember?”

  He reached up to finger her hair.

  “What are you doing?”

  “You have such pretty hair,” he murmured. “Black like a raven’s wing.”

  Alarm spread through her; his eyes looked glassy. Should she move him? Should she call an ambulance? Did they even have an ambulance in Salvation? She was unprepared.

  Jillian wrung her hands. She might be a killer in the courtroom, but when it came to medical stuff, she was useless. She fainted at the sight of blood. Thank God he wasn’t bleeding.

  She plucked his hand from her hair. “Tuck, try to concentrate. Do you know what day it is?”

  “You’re a pretty temptress.”

  “Temptress?”

  “Ridley says you’re a jinx, but I don’t believe it.”

  “Ridley? Who’s Ridley?”

  “Evie’s husband and my best friend.”

  “Ridley’s your brother-in-law?”

  Tuck nodded. “That’s it.”

  “Why does Ridley think I’m a jinx? He doesn’t even know me.”

  “Shh.” Tuck placed an index finger to his lips. “It’s a secret.”

  “What’s a secret?”

  “You’re the vision.”

  “Huh?”

  “I know.” Tuck winked and his voice took on a suggestive tone.

  Startled, Jillian pulled back. “Know what?”

  He grinned. “What you look like naked.”

  All at once, Jillian felt naked. Clearly the man was addled, and he had no idea what he was saying. Actually, neither did she. “You must have a concussion. We need to get you to a doctor. Can you stand?”

  “And lips. The color of raspberries. Beautiful, beautiful lips.”

  “Tuck,” she said sharply. “Listen to me. You’ve got to concentrate. You fell through the ceiling and hit your head. We have to get you to the doctor. Can you get to your feet?”

  “Okay. Can do.” He smiled at her like someone who’d had one drink too many.

  “Here.” She pulled his arm around her neck. “We’re just going to stand you up.”

  “Hey,” he said.

  “What now?”

  “You smell pretty too.”

  “Okay, I have pretty hair and lips, and I smell good too; we’ve established that,” she said. “Can we please move on?”

  “Absolutely.” His jovialness scared her. He seemed far too happy under the circumstances.

  “On the count of three. One, two, three …” She leveled him off the floor.

  He muttered a string of curse words.

  Ah, that was more like it. “What is it, what’s wrong?”

  “My foot.”

  “What about it?”

  “Hurts.”

  “Can you bear weight on it?”

  “Yeow!”

  “Obviously not.” Jillian sighed. “Can you hobble?”

  The color drained from his face. “Hobbling’s a good option.”

  “Lean on me.”

  He leaned into her, and Jillian became aware of exactly how big he was. She was plenty tall, but he was still a head taller, and his chest grazed against her breast. Through the material of both his flannel shirt and her silk blouse she could feel his hard, honed masculine muscles flexing, and she could feel her own nipples tightening at the contact. She slid an arm around his back.

  She was so aware of him. His weight, his scent, his sinew and bones. She gulped, felt the movement slide all the way down her throat, leaving her feeling dry and breathless. She’d never been so acutely aware of a man’s body before.

  Or her own.

  Her heart hammered. She moistened her lips, but t
he dryness hung on. Arid Colorado air.

  And hot Colorado he-man.

  Her thoughts were totally inappropriate.

  Stop this. Stop thinking about his body. You’re a perv. The man needs a doctor. Get your head out of the gutter and on your goal.

  “Here we go,” Jillian said. “You ready? Out the door and down the stairs.”

  “Stairs.” He grunted.

  “You can do this. I’ll help you do this.” Jillian looked at Tuck’s face to make sure he was all right. He was staring at her as if she was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. He must have really whacked his head if the attraction was stronger than pain. His gaze drilled into her, as penetrating as a buzz-saw blade, slicing right through her, causing her nipples to strain even tighter against the lace of her bra.

  Totally, completely inappropriate. Lusting after an injured man. Concentrate on getting him down the stairs without too much jarring. Without too much lusting.

  They clumped down the stairs together, Tuck hanging on to the banister with one arm, his other arm slung over her shoulder, his leg bent to lessen the likelihood of him whacking his injured foot against the steps.

  She was so close, his warm breath feathered the fine hairs on her neck, causing shivers to run down her spine.

  “I damn well hate this,” he grumbled.

  “Hurting yourself?”

  “Well that, but mostly I hate looking like a big pansy in front of you.”

  “You don’t look like a pansy.”

  “Right. This is exactly what every woman wants, a big strong guy who has to lean on her.”

  “Hey, you’re not superman. Everyone needs someone to lean on now and again. I’m here. I’m tough and tall. It’s okay to lean.”

  He grunted his disagreement, although he did say, “The tallness is a plus.”

  Jillian realized that with having a wife who’d had a long illness, Tuck had played the role of caretaker for so long he felt uncomfortable when he was in the position of needing someone to take care of him. Well, too bad, he could just get over his macho need to be the rescuer.

  Before Jillian and Tuck reached the bottom of the stairs, Will and Bill, who must have heard the commotion, came running to help load Tuck into his pickup. She was relieved to step back and let the twins help out. Lexi came out of her store as well, fluttering anxiously about and asking a hundred questions.

  “Is there a hospital in town?” Jillian asked.

  “You’ll have to take him to Boulder,” Bill said.

  “Just take me back to the house and call Dr. Couts,” Tuck said. “I’ll be okay.”

  “Forget it,” Jillian barked. “You’re going to the emergency room. End of discussion.”

  “You sure are bossy,” Tuck said.

  “Damn straight. You bust yourself up in front of me, you’re stuck with me until you’re officially patched up.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “See that you do.”

  Once Tuck was sitting in the passenger seat, relief washed over her. She’d gotten him past the first hurdle. She thanked the accountants and Lexi for their help and climbed in behind the wheel.

  “Give me your keys,” Jillian said to Tuck. “And the directions to the hospital.”

  “Can you drive a stick?”

  “I can,” she said. “I’m multitalented.”

  Tucker winced and lay his head back against the headrest.

  “Does it hurt badly?”

  “Not gonna be doing the Cotton-Eyed Joe anytime soon.”

  “How’s your head?” She started the engine. “Still dizzy?”

  “Better.”

  “That’s good.” She angled for the highway and promptly smacked a pothole.

  Tuck sucked in his breath through clenched teeth.

  “Sorry, sorry. I don’t know where all the potholes in town are yet.”

  “S’okay, but talk. Distract me from the ankle.”

  “All right, all right. What should we talk about?”

  “I dunno, what do you do for fun when you’re not being a lawyer?”

  “I go running. I’ve run a couple of marathons, do three or four ten-kilometer races a year.”

  “That’s exercise, not fun. How do you relax?”

  It was a legitimate question and one she didn’t really have an answer for. “I do yoga occasionally.”

  “Again, exercise.”

  “Maybe I haven’t yet conquered the concept of relaxing,” she admitted.

  “You’re going to have a hard time acclimating to Salvation until you learn how to slow down.”

  “I’m getting that.”

  “You may never be able to reduce your speed. The slow lane might not be in your nature.”

  She shot a glance at him. “It’s not going to work. You’re not running me out of town.”

  “I have been thinking,” Tuck said. “If that deed never turns up, how ’bout you sell me the lake house?”

  “What? No.”

  “Why not?”

  “For one thing, I’m not a quitter. For another thing, I need this change of pace. As you pointed out, I don’t know how to relax.”

  “You can learn to relax anywhere. I’ve lived here two and a half years. It’s where I …”

  Lost my wife.

  He didn’t say the words, but she heard them just as clearly as if he had. She felt sorry for him, but she wasn’t going to let him guilt her into leaving the lake house. The only way she was leaving was if he produced the deed. Blake had left the lake house to her. It was as if he’d known the place was exactly what she needed. She was rebuilding her life here in Salvation. She wanted a fresh start, and this was her chance.

  “I’ll pay you more than it’s worth,” Tuck enticed.

  “Why would you offer that if you knew the place had been deeded to you?”

  “I want it.”

  “Sorry.” Jillian shook her head. “It’s not for sale.”

  “The place needs major work. It’s gonna cost you a mint to fix it up.”

  “Then why would you pay more than it was worth?”

  “Because the place means that much to me. Sentimental value.”

  Guilt, that nagging emotion, knocked around her head. He certainly knew how to twist the knife. “It’s got sentimental value to me as well. My mentor left it to me.”

  “He left it to me too.”

  “Which you can’t prove. I feel for your situation, truly I do—”

  “But you don’t care.”

  “Look, I don’t even really know you.”

  “And yet you’re driving me to the hospital. What’s that all about?”

  “Common courtesy. You’d do the same for me.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “You wouldn’t?”

  “Of course I would, but if the roles were reversed, I’d take your word for it about the deed and get out of the lake house.”

  “Easy for you to say—the roles aren’t reversed.”

  “Why is it so important to you? It’s gotta be more than the fact that Blake left you the house. If you were keeping it strictly for sentimental value, you would just have it as a summer place. You wouldn’t have pulled up stakes, left your job in Houston as assistant district attorney.”

  “I don’t owe you an explanation.”

  “Come on, we’re living together. And besides, don’t you want to help me take the focus off my pain?”

  This was the longest conversation they’d had in a week of living under the same roof. “I was feeling burned out,” she surprised herself by admitting.

  “And?”

  “There’s no and.”

  “There’s an and. I can hear it in your voice. What are you really running away from?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “Okay, fine, keep it bottled up inside.” He shifted in the seat beside her and let out a small groan.

  “It hurts a lot, doesn’t it?”

  “Of course i
t hurts a lot, and you won’t even help distract me.”

  “Okay, all right, I’ll distract you.”

  “You’re a peach.”

  Jillian snorted. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I could do something else to distract you.”

  “Oh yeah? Like what?”

  She didn’t miss the wicked tone of innuendo. “Sing ‘Ninety-nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall.’ ”

  “A favorite of yours?”

  Jillian narrowed her eyes. “I should just let you suffer in silence.”

  “Please don’t. We’ve got twenty miles of highway stretching in front of us,” he said.

  “I’m not even sure I like you. Why should I tell you my secrets?”

  “It’s a man,” he guessed. “Broke your heart.”

  “More like bruised my ego,” she admitted.

  “What happened?”

  She hesitated.

  “Come on,” he wheedled. “You can tell me. I won’t judge.”

  She shrugged. “Really, it’s nothing you want to hear about.”

  “How do you know unless you tell me?”

  Drawing in a deep breath, Jillian realized she did want to tell him, even though she was afraid of what he might think of her. She felt awkward, self-conscious. She didn’t know why she was telling him this except that he was a stranger, and she hadn’t told anyone about Alex, and the dirty secret was burning her up. Finally, she just blurted it out.

  “I had an affair with a married man.” Furtively, Jillian angled a glance over at Tuck to see how he took the news.

  His expression didn’t change.

  That encouraged her to go on. “I didn’t know he was married,” she continued, realizing that she sounded defensive. She felt defensive. No, that wasn’t true. She felt guilty, ashamed. “But he was married just the same.”

  “That must have been a blow when you found out the truth.”

  “It was horrible.” She shuddered. “Last year. Christmas Eve. I thought I’d surprise him. We’d been dating about a month, but we’d never gone to his place. That should have been a tip-off. I was dense. Or I didn’t want to see the warning signs. I got his address from his employee file and went to his house. I dressed up. Victoria’s Secret underneath a denim duster. I wore cowboy boots. I even had toy six-shooters strapped to my hips.”

  “Sounds sexy in a cowgirl kind of way.”