Midnight Kiss (11 page)

O
F COURSE THE WOMAN
would show up for manual labor wearing skinny jeans and a tank top that bared teasing glimpses of her smooth, taut belly, topped by some fuzzy sweater that probably cost the earth. On her feet were high-heeled ankle boots.

Will groaned silently. She would cost him his sanity, no question.

But, oh, she did look delectable.

“You live practically in the country,” she accused. She glanced around. “And your house is falling down.”

Will couldn’t help laughing. “Good afternoon to you, too.” Then, unable to resist, he swooped in and placed a kiss on that sulky, sexy mouth of hers.

Jordan sighed one breathy little moan, and it was all he could do not to snatch her up, bear her inside and lay her down on his bed.

Praise Jesus and all the saints…help me.
“I’ll have you know that the exterior of my house is deceiving. The paint is only a primer until I figure out what colors I want. I’d like to eventually replace that octagonal window above the porch roof with a stained glass, but I haven’t yet found the right one.”

He continued, “I’ve focused first on securing the structure, then on making space livable inside. I will
admit, though, that David believes I should have razed the entire house.” He grinned. “But he’d be wrong. I found lovely loblolly pine floors beneath ancient scarred vinyl, and there are crown moldings that I believe were hand-carved.”

She clung to her pose of nonchalance. “If you say so.”

“Would you care to see for yourself?”

She hesitated. “You really like all this stuff, don’t you? I mean—” She gestured around at his garden and the evidence of new trees he’d planted, shrubs he’d moved. “It’s all kind of
Little House on the Prairie
or something.”

“Come again?” His brow wrinkled.

“A series of books kids read, mostly girls. About a pioneer family.” She shrugged. “I used to think they were kind of amazing. There was Pa and Ma and their kids, and they raised chickens and cows and—” She halted. “Well, anyway, you’d be right at home there.”

He wove his fingers into hers and tugged her along. “This is how I lived in Ireland. We were not city folk. We grew our vegetables, my mum had hens for the eggs, Da raised dairy cows. We all pitched in. With eight children, it was necessary.”

She caught up with him. “Eight kids? Wow. I was an only child.”

And didn’t that loneliness shadow her?

“Which were you?” she asked. “Don’t tell me—the oldest, since you’re so bossy.”

He grinned. “You’d be wrong. I’m the black sheep and square in the middle. An elder sister and two older brothers, all raising families. I have two younger sisters, one married with a third baby on the way and one
studying to be a nun. My two younger brothers are also bachelors but have at least stayed nearby, as my mum thinks I should have.”

Jordan glanced at him sideways. “The black sheep? Really? But your mother should know you’ve actually done her proud.” She hesitated. “I get, though, how it feels to disappoint people.” Her jaw tightened. “Not that I worry about that.”

“How could you possibly have disappointed your family with all you’ve achieved?” He was outraged on her behalf.

“It doesn’t matter. They are who they are. I don’t sweat it.”

But she did, clearly, despite her bravado. Will’s protective instincts surged. Did they not see how they’d hurt her? Could they not tell how she’d been harmed by their actions and attitudes?

“They’re wrong,” he said fiercely. When Jordan didn’t look at him, he took her chin and turned her face to his. “How could they not be proud of you?”

Her eyes widened. “You’re angry,” she marveled. “At them.”

“Of course I am. You were a child when they robbed you of a home.”

“It’s not a big deal. It was never much of a home.” She glanced around her. “Nothing like this, that’s for sure.” She met his gaze and laid her palm against his jaw. “But thanks for defending me.” Her eyes were as soft as he’d ever seen them.

He wanted to sweep her up in his arms and shield her.

Before he could, she turned away and studied his
house. “So…explain to this city slicker exactly what you’ve done.”

Will considered her for another moment but knew she wouldn’t appreciate his pity. He turned his own attention to his house.

But he didn’t let go of her hand. “Allow me to introduce you to my lifetime home-improvement project,” he gestured with his free arm. “Please place a donation in the jar by the door at the end of the tour, should you be so inclined. The homeowner is ever in jeopardy of impoverishment.”

Jordan grinned up at him and managed a passable curtsy. “Do lead on, my good man.”

“Certainly. But mind your step, miss.” Though Will realized that the advice might more properly belong to him. Every glimpse of the heart behind her tough-as-nails facade made keeping his distance a little more difficult.

“S
O WHAT ABOUT THE
project you mentioned?” Jordan asked at the end of the tour as she stared at a piece of equipment Will called a router. She could barely imagine how the crown molding above their heads had come from this tool. Or what creating it had required. “Don’t you need to get back to it? Should I go?” In truth, however, she was more intrigued than she’d expected. She’d never given a second thought to how a structure was built, much less that all the pieces hadn’t come from some factory.

“There’s time,” he replied. “Would you care to see what I’m doing?”

“Why not?”

He led her outside to a frame building, a sort of
garage that was also only painted with primer. “So will the primer be enough to protect the house and this? Isn’t the weather hard on them?”

“It is, but the primer will serve for now. I have to choose my priorities. There’s only me, and I must also earn what is required to fund everything. I’ll need a batch of days together to paint the place all at once, and I must do so to get the best effect.”

“But it doesn’t drive you crazy that everything’s not done?”

“What is truly worthwhile often needs patience.”

“You have a lot of it, don’t you?” She frowned. “I don’t get that. My view is that you have to grab for everything as soon as you get the chance. You never know what will disappear and never come back.”

He’d taken her hand again, and she found that she liked the sensation of his big hand swallowing hers. “Perhaps what’s available for the grabbing isn’t worth keeping,” he said. “Slow is better.”

Not to me,
she was about to say when he opened the door to his—well, obviously not a garage. Tools of all sizes and descriptions were placed strategically around the floor or arranged on the walls. “Wow. What is all this?”

“The instruments of my trade. This,” he indicated one that had a wicked saw blade sticking out of its flat surface, “is a table saw. That is a band saw, and over there is a lathe.”

“What’s a lathe do?”

“Do you recall the missing newels in the staircase? I’m replacing them with matching ones I turn on this.”

“Really? How?”

He reached for a block of wood about three feet long and square. “I begin with this.”

“I can’t picture how that could become like the ones I saw. Would you show me? I mean, is it too much trouble?”

His eyes warmed. “Not at all. First put on these—” He handed her a set of goggles, then donned his own. “And these hearing protectors.”

Once they were both armored, Jordan’s own voice sounded odd to her as she stepped up beside him and watched him fasten the long piece at each end. Then his hands went unerringly to a tool with a wooden handle and a curved metal shaft. On the end, it was rounded.

“This is a spindle gouge.” He pointed to a spot on the other side of the machine. “You stand over there. This—” he indicated a flat metal edge he adjusted to come closer to the block “—is called a tool rest.”

When Jordan was in place, Will flipped a switch and the wood began spinning. He put the handle of the tool at an angle on the rest. With deft hands, he leaned the tool in and out, and wood shavings all but leaped off the block in long curls. Beneath his hands began to appear graceful curves she could never have imagined creating from a block of wood.

“That’s incredible.”

“What?” Will flipped the switch.

“Sorry.” She stepped back, but she couldn’t help wanting to touch. “I hope I didn’t interrupt at a bad time.”

He studied her and the hand that was rising by her side. “Come over here. You can help.”

“Me? Oh, no, I couldn’t—”

“Jordan, you’re curious. There’s no substitute for the feeling of the wood under your hands.”

“But it’s beautiful. I’ll mess it up.”

He shrugged. “I have more material.”

She was torn between longing and fear. “I won’t be good at it.”

“Do you only do things you’ve already mastered, then? I think not. You were not born a lawyer.”

“Some would say I was born to argue.”

“And there I’d likely not disagree,” he said with a smile. “Still, surely you’ve attempted the unfamiliar.”

“I learned kickboxing,” she admitted. “I’m really good at it—want to see?”

“Perhaps later. Just now, let’s find out if there’s a woodworker lurking within you.”

“Okay.” Truth be told, she really did want to try it. She assumed the place he indicated in front of him and tried to imitate his two-handed grip, one beneath and one over the tool, guiding it.

“Hold it firmly but keep your body relaxed.” He arranged himself behind her, his big frame a comforting and disturbing presence all at the same time. “You’ll need to be both flexible and vigilant. No piece of wood is uniform throughout. Its textures and composition differ from spot to spot. Keep the spindle gouge slightly loose in your fingers, but clasp it carefully enough so that the turning doesn’t dislodge it. I wouldn’t want to see a scar in this lovely exterior of yours. Notice the edges of the tool. They’re wicked sharp.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t…”

“Here, place your hands in mine, and we’ll begin together so you can acquire a feel for this.”

She fought past her awareness of his big, warm
hands, of his hard body a shelter around her. She narrowed her eyes, staring hard and steeling herself.

Will kissed the side of her neck, jolting her.

“What was that for?”

“Don’t tense up. Light on your feet, fluid in your motions.”

Jordan inhaled one good, deep breath. “Okay, I’m ready.”
I hope.

Will flipped the switch and drew her hands with his closer until the blade touched the wood. Jordan gasped and jerked. The spindle gouge slipped, goring a crooked line in the wood before he pulled her hands back. “Sorry.”

“You’re doing fine. There’s an entire forest lost to my learning. Now relax against me, and let’s begin again.”

Relax. Against him.

Yeah, right.
But she tried, and he was a good teacher. Soon her fascination was great enough to overcome most of her extreme awareness of his body touching hers. She focused and watched the curves form under her hands—

It was
her
hands doing this, she realized with a jitter. Will had let go, though he still stood right behind her, his body big and warm and—

Another crooked groove. “Sorry.”
Focus, Jordan.
She redoubled her efforts and moved the tool along the wood as she’d watched him do, weaving in and out and fashioning a curve not nearly as beautiful as his own, but not a total loss.

She pulled away and studied the piece still whirling in front of her. “Not bad, huh?”

Will leaned into her to flip off the switch. “Quite good, in fact.”

“For a beginner?” she asked, turning toward him.

His eyes were hot on her mouth, then flicked up to her eyes. “Accept your due, Jordan. You did well.”

Though her insides jangled, her rush of triumph overrode them, and she had to smile, throwing her arms wide. “I loved it!”

“Careful, now.” He plucked the instrument from her hand, but just as she would have retreated, he took a step toward her, and she lost her breath.

She hastened to cover her intense reaction to him. “Can I do another one?” Then she experienced a moment of unfamiliar shyness. “If you can spare the wood, I mean.”

Those blue eyes saw too much. As happened so often, she had the sense that Will Masterson understood her in ways that disturbed her.

Fortunately for her, he stepped away then, just before she could decide whether to yield to the kiss they were both obviously dying for or to run for her car before things got out of hand.

He turned back with another piece of wood. “All right. Let’s try this one. It’s oak, not pine. You’ll want to pay attention to the difference in them.” He went on to discuss those differences as he removed the turned piece and replaced it with the block.

And Jordan couldn’t decide whether to be miffed or relieved that she’d dodged that bullet.

“W
HY WOULD YOU NEED
a wife?” Jordan asked much later after a delicious dinner. “You’re a really good cook, on top of everything else. What can a woman do
for you that you can’t do for yourself? I can’t believe you actually baked that bread.”

Will settled beside her in the porch swing, looking down at her with a knowing grin on his face.

“Well, sex, sure, but you don’t need marriage for that,” she said.

He chuckled and rested his arm behind her. “Man was not made to live alone.” He glanced over at her. “Nor woman, either.”

“You’re wrong. I prefer to be on my own.” Jordan lifted a shoulder. “Some of us just aren’t meant for the long term.”

Will smiled indulgently, then set the swing in motion with a shove of one foot. “For an intelligent woman, you’ve a feather brain at times.”

Jordan smacked him on the belly, but that didn’t faze him. “Protest as you will, sweetheart, but you know I’m right.”

“I do not.” She frowned and glanced over at him again as the feel of his belly registered. The man had a six-pack, she would swear. Suddenly she really, really wanted to see him out of that flannel shirt and the T-shirt beneath.

“What has that lovely brow so wrinkled?”