Black Flame (4 page)

Also, her motives and opinions were confounding. While Jimmy had taken care to prepare for tomorrow’s brunch, she found his preparations lacking for reasons that he didn’t understand. The kids at the Family Circle Intervention Center had never seemed to care what sort of plate their food arrived on, and he doubted the packages would stay wrapped long enough for the paper to make much of an impression. Jimmy was actually
good
with the kids—all of the other volunteers said so—especially the boys, who liked to challenge him to wrestling matches and ride around on his shoulders. And this scheme of hers to become a wedding planner—was that even a real job? If Jayne and Matthew were for some reason unable to plan their own wedding, Jimmy figured he could take care of it in an afternoon. How hard could it be, once you secured a venue, an officiant, a DJ and someone to bring food?

She’d been vague about her plans, too, declining to say how long she intended to stay. Well, with her sister out of town, that probably had added a day or two. She hadn’t made arrangements for lodging elsewhere, so Jimmy was going to have to put up with her for at least a few more days. And presumably she’d return when the wedding actually occurred, but maybe she’d get a hotel room then. He wouldn’t worry about that now, at any rate; he just had to put up with her until Jayne returned home and took her off his hands.

A vein pulsing in his neck alerted Jimmy that he had probably lifted enough for now, especially since he wasn’t wearing athletic garments and still had domestic chores to complete. He set down the weights, wiped off his face with a clean hand towel from the stack he kept in the larder, and ventured cautiously back into the kitchen.

For the next three hours, Jimmy doggedly continued his cooking adventure, the first time he had ever attempted anything more ambitious than a turkey sandwich or a pot of spaghetti. Cooking, he reasoned, was merely following instructions in a manual, and as someone who mastered the
Consumer Electronics Troubleshooting and Maintenance Handbook
at the age of eight, and built a real-time communication server at seventeen, he figured he had every reason to expect success. However, the results of his efforts proved disappointing. As the afternoon wore on, he pulled a lopsided cake from the oven, leaving half the batter burning on the bottom; couldn’t figure out where the “heart” of an artichoke was located; and sliced his thumb while attempting to remove the skin from a pomegranate. Meanwhile, strange sounds issued from his bedroom and, after Deneen emerged and asked permission to look around for a few extra supplies, continued elsewhere in the bunkhouse and even from outside in the Tar Barn. Jimmy didn’t care for people borrowing his tools, but he was elbow deep in chicken stock and bread crumbs and couldn’t leave his post to supervise Deneen.

Finally, at a little after five o’clock, he’d managed to invert the cake onto a serving platter, cover the dressing and put it in the fridge, and clean the kitchen. Several cooking implements had either melted or become fused with burnt matter that refused to come off, but Jimmy had done the best he could, returning the items where he’d found them. As he put yesterday’s casserole into the microwave to heat up, the front door opened and Deneen came in, stomping snow from her feet and cradling something in her hands.

“Wow, it’s really coming down out there!” she said cheerfully.

“Forgive me for asking, but are those my electrical safety gloves you’re wearing?”

Deneen looked down at the thin rubber-covered gloves, turning her hands this way and that. “Is that what they are? I have to say, they aren’t terribly warm.”

Jimmy gritted his teeth in frustration, reminding himself that there was nothing to be gained from becoming contentious with Jayne’s sister. “Perhaps you might consider buying some appropriate cold weather gear,” he said. “I believe most places of commerce will be closed tomorrow, in observation of the holiday, but I understand that the day following Christmas is a popular shopping occasion. And seasonal merchandise may be discounted at that time, so—”

“Got it,” Deneen said, ducking her chin and looking abashed. She hastily took the gloves off and carefully folded them in half. “I’ll return these as soon as I get warm. I’m sorry I took your stuff.”

“No, that’s fine, don’t worry—what have you got there, anyway?”

She peeked up at him, brushing snowflakes from her hair. She looked uncomfortable, but didn’t unfold her hand to reveal what she was holding.

“Wow, it sure smells…interesting, in here.”

So she wasn’t going to tell him. Either she was doing something unethical or improper or…oh no, was she intending to
surprise
him? Were all of her mysterious activities going to culminate in some presentation from which she would expect a reaction he couldn’t possibly guess at?

“I hate surprises,” Jimmy burst out before he could stop himself. “I mean, just in case you were, that is to say, if by shielding from view the, uh, results of your endeavors…”

“Oh.” Her lower lip wobbled and she peered between her fingers at whatever she was holding. “It wasn’t going to be a
surprise
surprise, really. I just, well, I made a few things, for the breakfast tomorrow. It was going to be more of a
reveal
.”

“A reveal?”

“You know, like on HGTV? When they do the home makeovers and the host shows it to the homeowners? Or like when you have your hair highlighted and the hairdresser won’t let you look until he’s done blow drying?”

“I’ve never had my hair highlighted. And I take it that HGTV is a television channel?”

He was trying; he really was. But Deneen was looking increasingly woebegone. This was it, the reason that he wasn’t meant to fraternize more than necessary with beautiful women. He always managed to upset them.

“Look, forget I said anything. Go—do whatever you’re doing, I’m sure it’s, ah, an enhancement. I am preparing dinner, and it should be ready in five minutes.”

She seemed to brighten a little. “Heavens, I’m starving. Leftovers would be great. I haven’t eaten since before I went to the airport.”

She left the room, still cupping whatever she was holding in her hands. Her damp hair curved around her face in a way that was quite unsettling, and the pants she was wearing fit her with extraordinary precision—truly, a marvel of engineering. It was only the ding of the microwave that brought Jimmy’s attention back to what he had been doing.

As he set out the food and glasses of milk—Matthew often used placemats, but in Jimmy’s mind they were an unnecessary step—he made a mental note to contact the electrical supply company and order a new set of gloves. And wondered why the prospect didn’t make him more irritable.

“Well,” Deneen said, chewing carefully. There was something…
unusual
about the casserole Jimmy had served her. “Thank you so much for inviting me to dinner. What, er, is the main ingredient in this dish?”

“Gluten,” Jimmy said, drinking a big swig of milk. Deneen hadn’t seen a grown man drink a glass of milk in, well, she couldn’t remember the last time. But somehow it was weirdly sexy, watching the muscles in his throat, the pale milk mustache on his upper lip that he dabbed with his napkin. “Gluten has fallen out of favor in nutritional circles, which makes no sense. For the 99% of humans with no intolerance issues, it is a protein found in some of the most nutritious grains. It’s inexpensive and readily available. I don’t know why more people don’t eat it.”

Maybe, Deneen thought as she forced down another bite, because it was bland, colorless, and had a weird flavor, at least in this dish. Oh well, at least she wouldn’t starve. “Well, I insist on doing the dishes and cleaning up.”

“That seems like a good division of labor,” Jimmy agreed. “I will use the time to work.”

“All right. And then, could I maybe show you what I did for tomorrow?” For some reason, Deneen held her breath. Why did she care what this odd stranger thought of decorations she’d made? They weren’t meant for him, but for the guests at the Christmas brunch.

He stopped chewing, and stared at her carefully, frowning. Deneen rolled her eyes. For heaven’s sake, it wasn’t a trick question.

“Yes,” he said.

Just
yes
, nothing more. “All right then.”

“All right.”

After that they finished eating in silence, Deneen discarding several possible conversational topics. Instead, she snuck glances at Jimmy. Earlier, when he’d been hiding in his little room with the weights, he must have brushed against the unfinished wall because he had a splinter or something on his cheek. It wasn’t bothering her so much as…well, honestly, it was bothering her. If she knew him a little better, she could casually say, “Oh, you’ve got a thing…there, under your eye.” Or she could even reach across the table and brush it away, just a casual gesture, nothing more.

She reached across the table and brushed at the thing before she could think better of it.
Whose hand was that
, she wondered, horrified, as her fingers stroked that slightly stubbly, masculine cheekbone? Who on earth would then reach a little higher so she could nudge that lock of hair back into place?

Who
was
she? Because Jimmy Mason was not Deneen Burgess’s type, not by any stretch of the imagination; also, Deneen Burgess did not go around touching men who had not expressed interest in her.

“You had a little thing,” she said, jerking her hand back, feeling her face flame with embarrassment. “I got it off you, though.”

“Excellent. Thank you.” Jimmy leapt up from the table, nearly knocking his chair over. He grabbed his dinner plate, then hers, making a terrific clattering of crockery and cutlery.

Deneen didn’t bother pointing out that she wasn’t finished with her casserole. Maybe she could sneak into the kitchen in the middle of the night and find something to snack on, but the casserole wasn’t worth tussling over. Besides, Jimmy looked even more mortified than she felt. Okay, so clearly, physical contact with the Supergeek was a no-no. Was he so inexperienced that he didn’t even know how to respond to the most innocent touch?

Or was he repulsed by her? The thought popped up out of nowhere. Jimmy had certainly expressed distaste or disapproval several times since picking her up at the airport. He didn’t approve of her coat, her mittens, her occupational goals—that had been crystal clear from the expressions he was unable to hide. Maybe he thought she was unattractive. Except, no, a man such as him, armed with more than enough critical thinking, must surely recognize that Deneen possessed all the traditional markers of female beauty.

She wasn’t the least bit insecure about her looks. But the other, chronic, terrible, soul-crushing fear—the one Deneen had been carrying around with her since she was seven years old and her mother had given her a time-out for playing dress-up when she was supposed to be doing “Important Women of the Twentieth Century” flash cards with her sister—was that Deneen was nothing more than a dumb blonde, a ditzy chick, a bubble-headed window dressing.

And if
that
was how Jimmy saw her, then of course he wasn’t attracted to her. Correction, he was repelled by her. He was probably counting the minutes until she left. But the problem was, she didn’t have anywhere to go.

No, strike that, Deneen thought, as she swept up a few crumbs and drained the last of her milk while Jimmy bustled around the kitchen. The problem was that Jimmy Mason didn’t like her, and that provoked a combination of indignation and hurt feelings that she really, really didn’t like. Only Deneen’s family was allowed to dismiss her, and only because it was practically a tradition. Men were supposed to line up with their tails wagging, full of compliments about her looks and the way she smelled and how clever she was, and in exchange she knew how to be a darn good date. She laughed at their jokes. She encouraged them to talk about themselves. She followed enough sports to discuss their favorite teams. And most of all, she looked really, really good on their arms.

“Are you all right?”

Jimmy was standing next to her, holding a dishrag, and peering at her skeptically. Oh, no—she was about to cry, a fact he seemed to have picked up on despite his general cluelessness.

“Yes. Yes! All right?” She got up from the table with as much dignity as she could muster. “Thank you for dinner. Wasn’t I supposed to be doing the cleaning?”

“Oh.” Jimmy looked down at the dishrag in his hand. Clearly he was uncomfortable, too. Well, obviously, because he had an unwanted dumb blonde in his kitchen. “You can clean up tomorrow. Now why don’t you show me your, er, projects, so I can get to work.”

Deneen almost told him to forget it, especially because he was bound to think her efforts were wasted. But he was already leading the way back to his bedroom, so she hustled after him.

Inside the room, he stopped and stared silently at the bed for several long moments. Behind him, Deneen felt more and more anxious. Did he hate what she’d done? He probably did. She must have broken some rule and offended his rigid sense of order. Plus she’d done it on his turf, in his room, mussing up his stupid boring bedspread with its hospital corners and perfectly folded bed sheets and—

“What are those?” he asked, in a strained voice, pointing to the floor, where she’d set the centerpieces she had fashioned from bits and pieces she’d found around the ranch.

“Oh.” She swallowed nervously. “Those are for the tables. Decorations. I wasn’t sure how many tables there were, so I made six.”

“Six is…fine.” He took one last look and went to his dresser, grabbing a handful of clothes from the top drawer. “All right, well, I’m off to my workshop. We can load all of this into the truck in the morning. I’ll just, you know, sleep on the floor or something.”

Was that supposed to be humor? Deneen honestly couldn’t tell, especially since he clearly hated everything she’d done. He barely glanced at it and didn’t offer her a single word of praise. Well, his mother had probably told him that if he didn’t have anything nice to say, he shouldn’t say anything at all.

“I’ll put it all by the front door,” she assured him. “You’ll have your bedroom back good as new.”