Big Bad Wolf (2 page)

She couldn’t help it.
A
soft sigh of appreciation escaped her lips
as she watched him turn around and wander off, showing her the other side of his too-good-to-be-true anatomy.
A
bruptly
, she
returned to the chore of getting ready.
The man was no ordinary laborer, that was for sure.
That strange tingling feeling bothered her again, and she tried to f
igure out what it was about Nicholas
Langley that was making her nervous.

“Just an ordinary man,” she muttered very softly.

*

Leaning against a tree, the man known as Killian
watch
ed the woman on the roof with hooded eyes.
“Nick” was one of his many identities, usually when he was playing drifter or portraying an easy-going front.
The lady had
taken him by surprise
in more ways than one
, something that very rarely happened.
Besides the obvious, she was also projecting an energetic stillness that was intriguing.
He had been deliberately laid-back and unassuming, and yet her awareness of him was palpable, to the point of nervousness.
Why was he making her nervous?

He wondered what made her choose to be, of all things, a roofer.
She didn’t seem strong enough for suc
h hard work
.
He liked the gentle tone of her voice when she spoke, a far cry from the crew from the old days when he worked in construction.

Not that there was anything wrong with being a roofer, he thought, studying her nimble movements as she moved across the roof.
She obviously knew her job very well, barel
y pausing while she laid
the shingles in diagonal fashion, the nail gun flashing in the sun as it moved across the shingle in rapid rat-tat-tat.

The sun beat down relentlessly, and Nick made a note to remember to bring along a cooler for his new job in the morning.
A corner of his mouth quirked up in amusement
.
He remembered the way she had looked at him when she question
ed his experience
.
It was easy to read her mind.
Jay, the boss lady, didn’t want him to work for her.
It was in the tone of her voice, th
e hopeful look in her eyes
he would reconsider the heat and change his mind to go seek a better job.

He knew
she could tell he wasn’t a construction worker.
Those quick dark eyes of hers had settled for a long moment on his hands and the slight wrinkle of her nose betrayed her certainty.
He glanced down at his hands and shoved them into his jeans pockets.
He was getting careless.
His nails were too clean.

Nick continued eyeing the woman on the roof as he contemplated his next move.
He needed money to survive and construction was the easiest way to get quick cash in this town.
He couldn’t go for the higher skills, or they would start asking for past employment history and too much information.
His safest bet was as cheap labor to cover expenses for another month or two.
There were plenty of transients in
Florida
and he wouldn’t rouse anyone’s interest.

Jay turned around when she reached the peak of the roof, and her lycra-clad behind showed off a decidedly shapely derriere as she finished nailing the top row.
Nick’s eyes narrowed a fraction.
She was going to be trouble.
Her ass, for one thing, roused his interest.
Very much.

But he hadn’t the time to explore all the possibilities, not when he was still in the dark as to what had happened after he’d bailed out from his boat before it exploded.
He needed to find out whether he was still thought to be alive, needed to know who was out for his blood.
Being unsure of the situation, he hadn’t withdrawn any cash or used his credit cards; he couldn’t successfully evade by leaving a trail of recorded cash.
So he had made do with what he had; he had taken his hidden Jeep and drove inland.

But it was time to get in touch with one or two in his unit.
He needed a computer and a phone for a few days.
His eyes became slits in the bright sunlight.
No, he hadn’t the time to see what made Jay the boss lady tick.
He needed to figure out whether someone inside had betrayed his team before he went back in.
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
He supposed he could waste a few more minutes watching that cute little ass at work.

*

It was past dinnertime when Jaymee got home.
The house was a mess.
Taking off her shoes and socks, she strode into the kitchen, and ignoring the dirty dishes, she poured herself a glass of juice. From the window above the kitchen sink, she could see the sun disappearing behind the tall pines on the other side of the lake, giving the water a final quick shimmer for the day.
The grass needed mowing, she noted, arching her back muscles tiredly.

“You didn’t call to let me know whether you were going to be late,” a voice said from behind her.
“There’s a sandwich in the fridge.”

“Thanks,” Jaymee said, turning around to look at her father.
“You could have washed the dishes, you know.”

He shrugged, sitting at the kitchen table.
“Didn’t feel like it.”
He took a swallow from the long-necked bottle in his wrinkled work-worn hand.

He probably didn’t feel
anything at all
.
“How many beers did you have today, Dad?”
She sat down on the other chair at the table.
“You’re going to give yourself another stroke.”

“That would make you happy, wouldn’t it?” he asked, and coughed hard.
“Then you could just up and go.”

It was fortunate she also couldn’t feel a damn thing, she thought, as she studied the man who sat there carelessly drinking himself into oblivion.
Very li
ttle could hurt her these days.

“It’s been eight years,” she quietly reminded him, “and I’ve almost gotten your business back in the black.
It would be a shame, don’t you think, to die on me when I’m just about to finish
paying off every dime I owe you?”

“Damn right,” her father agreed.
“My daddy always taught us to pay for our mistakes, and that’s how
things are done.
Your bad judg
ment near destroyed the business my daddy and I built, girl, and don’t you forget it.”

“My bad judg
ment,” Jaymee countered, emphasizing through clenched teeth, her face a frozen mask, “was foisted on me by you. You used to like him, remember?
Enough to encourage him to come after me.”

“Don’t you go putting blame of your mistakes on me,” the older man exclaimed, then started to wheeze again.
When the coughing subsided, he continued, “You liked his pretty face and damn near gave away the business with your shenanigans.
Killed your ma.
Left me unable to work.”

She wasn’t in the mood to defend herself.
She had grown immune to her father’s brand of punishment in the past eight years.
And perhaps she was partly guilty for some of the bad luck that had fallen on the Barrows, and that was why she had slaved for eight years.
To pay her debts for past mistakes, she repeated her father’s litany.
It wouldn’t be too long now — two years, maybe sooner — now that she had gotten the Hidden Hills subdivision account, and the business would be in the clear again.
Then she could leave.

Finishing her drink, Jaymee got up and turned the water on at the sink, clanking the dirty dishes loud enough to drown out the drunken accusations behind her.
She was simply not in the mood to go on being the scapegoat.
Maybe it was because she was so near to her goal she was losing her usual calm acceptance of her father’s anger.
A year and a half, she promised herself.
If she pushed, she would be free in a year and a half.
The Hidden Hills subdivision account had fallen into her lap like a sudden lottery windfall, and with Excel Construction promising her at least three houses a week, twenty thousand dollars as projected profit wasn’t too difficult a goal.

She frowned at the memory of firing Chuck and Rich.
She couldn’t afford to let them go, but they were simply doing shoddy work these days,
hoping
she didn’t notice.
Catching them
“
undernailing
”
the shingles was the last straw.
With the strict regulations after the hurricanes these days, a failed inspection for
improper nailing
could cost her thousands of dollars in fines.
So now she was two men short and one house behind.
Then she remembered Mr. Roofer Wannabe.
How could she have forgotten, when he had spent the bet
ter part of the day following her every move
?
She couldn't forget those eyes.
The incredible long lashes.
The easy smile with the knowing eyes,
the kind she usually avoided meeting because she knew what they did to a woman’s logic.

Nicholas
Langley.
Jaymee silently mouthed his name as she piled the dishes into the dishwasher.
She wondered how long he would last.
Wannabes like him usually lasted a day, three at the most.
They weren’t interested in sweating it out in this kind of weather for so little money, so they were gone after the first paycheck.

Nothing like roofing to equalize all men, she thought, a slight grin forming on her lips.
They could be beach bums, young surfer boys, college kid
s on vacation, or like this
Langley, transient workers.
However, once she put them through the routine of walking up and down a six/twelve pitched roof on their knees for a couple of days, they all usually made their exits in the same way—in a big hurry.
And sometimes, limping, she added, her grin becoming wider.

S
he was
quite
sure Mr. Langley was going to show up
for the first day.
While he’d been studying her, she’
d
also
been keeping him within sight all day, and it hadn’t escaped
her notice when he’
d picked up a shingle wrapper from the ground and took it with him when he left.
She had grinned then too, hiding it under the shadows of her wide-brimmed cap.
Mr. Langley was going to read the instructions off the wrapper on how to lay shingles.
Somehow, that pleased her.
At least, the man was trying.

After wiping her hands dry, Jaymee proceeded to get the vacuum cleaner out of the closet and dragged it into the living
room, leaving her father at the kitchen table.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” he called after her.

She plugged the cord in
and turned the machine on, the
high screechy sound
keeping out his voice.
If Mr.
Langley was willing to learn, she concluded as she pushed the vacuum back and forth, then she supposed she should give him a chance.
Even if he meant trouble.

*

Nick
show
ed up for work the next day, looking just as good as he did the day before.
Jaymee wrinkled her nose.
Well, at least he had the se
nse to keep his pants on, she
noted with morose resignation, as she looked at her new helper.
He had gotten out of his Jeep with the lazy grace of a prowling animal on the hunt.
The hair on the back of her neck had stood up the instant his eyes met hers and he gave her a
knowing
, careless smile.

Uh-oh.
That was what her warning system had been trying to tell her all yesterday.
She should have known, she privately groa
ned.
With those blue-gray
eyes, why hadn’t she paid attention?
Wolf.
She had seen his kind before.

The temperature was already in the mid-eighties, even at that early hour, and the wet sheen of perspiration gleaming off his exposed skin made her suddenly aware of how much s
kin and muscle there was on Nicholas
Langley.
He was wearing one of those muscle tank
tops, revealing wide shoulders that rounded off into beautifully sculpted arms.
A light sprinkling of black hair temptingly beckoned above the low neckline.
Her eyes moved lower, helplessly drawn to the length of him, taking in the long, long legs to his feet.
Like she’d called it.
Hot.
And getting hotter.