Turn My World Upside Down: Jo's Story (2 page)

Nope. She was going to keep doing what she
had
been doing.

Being the oldest Marconi sister.

Being the responsible one.

Being in charge. Even if that meant working double shifts to pick up the slack on their construction jobs—or dealing with a brother she hadn’t even known existed this time last year.

Man, it really sucked being her.

And it really pissed her off to have Cash Hunter try to swoop in on a white charger and slay all of her dragons. For God’s sake. Hadn’t she made it plain enough that she just wasn’t interested in being the next bouncee on Cash’s bed? Hadn’t she insulted him? Baited him? Ignored him at every opportunity? What did it take to get through to a guy like this?

Her hand fisted around her hammer again, and
briefly, she gave in to the indulgent daydream of giving him a good thump with the business end. But then he’d be unconscious and she’d have to drag his body to a clinic. And who had time for that?

“So, Mr. Wonderful,” she said tightly, when he only continued to stare at her through those dark, liquid chocolate eyes. “If you really want to help, how about you go finish up the trim work? You know . . .
outside
?”

He smiled at her. “Mr. Wonderful. I like that.”

“You would.” Wouldn’t you know that would be the only part of her statement that he paid attention to? Honestly, the man was a walking hormone.

“How’s Jack doing, anyway?”

Good question
. Her little brother hardly spoke to her. But then, he hadn’t exactly had a great year, either. At ten years old, he’d lost his mother three months before in a car accident, then been uprooted from his home in San Francisco to live with his father in Chandler. Not to mention, he had three sisters who were still walking a little warily around him.

It wasn’t Jack’s fault that Papa had had an affair with the kid’s mother while Jo’s mother, Papa’s
wife
, lay dying. God. Just remembering it made Jo furious all over again. No one had ever guessed that Papa had been anything but a loving, faithful husband.

Until his minor heart attack a few months ago. For a few terrifying hours, they’d all felt the whisper of Death hovering close. So close that Grace Van Horn, Papa’s sixtyish ladyfriend, had shattered the Marconi sisters’ nice little world by insisting on calling the mother of Papa’s
son
. Jo was the first one to admit she hadn’t taken it well.

But then, finding out that the one man in the world
you trusted above everyone else had actual feet of clay was a real eye-opener. She’d just recently been able to look into Papa’s eyes when she talked to him. And even now, the pain of betrayal was still there.

And so was Jack.

The unwitting reminder of her father’s fall from grace.

As if they needed a reminder. Things were still . . .
uneasy
in the Marconi family. Oh, Jo’s sisters, Sam and Mike, had made their peace with their father. But Jo . . . she hadn’t been able to let go of the pain yet. The numbing sense of betrayal.

But she so didn’t have time to think about all of this now. So didn’t have the luxury to indulge in a good old-fashioned pity party with hats and balloons.

“Jack’s fine,” she said grimly, determined to believe it.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m convinced.”

She gritted her teeth and tried to swallow down another flash of irritation. “What do you care anyway?”

He shrugged and Jo determined to not notice the ripple of muscle beneath the black T-shirt he wore. He so didn’t need any more female fans.

“He’s a good kid.” Cash shifted position slightly as if he were suddenly uncomfortable. “A little lost, maybe. But good.”

“I know.” Jo sighed and hated to admit that the man had a point. Since moving to Chandler, Jack Marconi had wandered around the family home like . . . well, like a kid who’d had his world pulled out from under him. And she didn’t have a clue how to help him through it.

Frowning at Cash, because she couldn’t very well
frown at herself, she asked, “Don’t you have an elsewhere to be?”

“Not at the moment.”

“Lucky me.” Okay, if he wouldn’t leave, then she’d just go back to ignoring him. Not so easy, though, when he was right beside her, and she could feel his gaze pinned on her. Besides, his scent kept wrapping itself around her like some damn unwanted blanket.

Leather, spice,
male
.

Damn it.

“You know what your problem is?” Cash asked, his voice a lazy drawl.

“At the moment?” she asked.
“You.”

“Wrong.”

She blew out a breath, slammed the head of her hammer against the finishing nail jutting up from the baseboard she was trying to attach. The heavy smack of metal on wood zinged up her arm and Jo enjoyed it. No matter what the rest of her world was like, she could always at least find pleasure in the work.

And when all else failed, she could use her hammer to beat the crap out of something. Always cathartic.

“Don’t you want to know?” he prodded and inched back as she pressed ever onward.

“Do I get a choice?”

“Not really.”

“Oh, then please,” she said, looking up at him and fluttering her eyelashes until she was nearly blind. “Tell me so you can go about your merry way.”

He grinned again, and Jo swallowed hard. The man was as attractive as he was annoying and God knew that was
damned
attractive.

“You’re afraid of me.”

She snorted and sat back. “You’re a piece of work, you know that?”

“I like to think so.”

She shook her head so hard, her dark brown ponytail whipped around and slapped her in the eye. “You’re incredible. I didn’t mean that in a
good
way.”

Sunlight poured in through the windows behind her and spotlighted Cash as if he were the only player on a stage. His dark eyes, filled with secrets and promises and all kinds of tempting things, were locked on her and there was a knowing smile on his handsome face.

That was his problem, she thought. Too many women over the years had thrown themselves at him. He’d come to think of himself as God’s gift to womankind and every female he met had agreed with him. Until her.

Sure, she was attracted.

There was a nice little hum of electricity whenever he got near her.

But she was in construction. She knew damn well how much damage electricity could cause, so she wasn’t about to go sticking her fingers—
or anything else
—in Cash Hunter’s socket.

“So am I really that scary to you, Josefina?”

She winced. “I’ve told you like a million times I hate that name.”

“Yeah, but I told you a million times I really do,” he teased, that smile deepening. “So, how about it? You going to admit that I scare the crap out of you?”

“You really think you can
dare
me into your bed?” she asked and lifted the hammer. Not that she’d actually hit him with it or anything. Well . . . not unless he pushed her into it.

A damn dimple appeared in his left cheek. “Hey,
you’re
the one talking about
beds
. I said dinner.”

A shriek sounded in her head and it was only through sheer determination and stubbornness that she was able to keep it from exploding out her mouth. “I don’t have time for you,” she snapped instead.

“One of these days, Josefina,” he said, leaning forward until they were practically nose to nose. “You’re going to have to
make
time.”

Her teeth ground together as he pushed himself to his feet with a lazy motion. Then brushing his hands together, he hitched his tool belt a little higher on narrow hips. “Guess I’ll go and finish packing up. Finished the trim already.”

“Thanks for the news flash,” she muttered. God, that she had come to this. Actually
hiring
Cash Hunter. But with her sisters Mike and Sam both too pregnant to be any help whatsoever, she’d had to hire on extra hands. Even if they were attached to the one man in the world who pushed all her buttons the wrong way.

“I really think you’re starting to like me, Josefina,” he said, his boot heels thumping on the hardwood floor as he headed for the kitchen door.

“And I think you’re delusional,” she said. “Wonder which one of us is right.”

His laughter floated back to her as he stepped out of the room and it took Jo an extra minute or two to convince herself that she was
not
affected by that low, rich sound.

She wasn’t.

She was almost sure of it.

Michaela “Mike” Marconi Gallagher pushed herself into a sitting position, then scooted her heavily pregnant
bulk to the edge of the sofa. Bracing her hands on the highly polished coffee table, she gave a mighty heave and . . .
nothing
.

She glared at her belly and muttered, “You know, before you guys settled in down there, I could actually get up off a couch anytime I wanted to.”

“What’re you doing?”

“Apparently,” she snapped, lifting her gaze to her husband, “not a damn thing.”

Lucas Gallagher scowled at her, set down the tray of cookies he was carrying on the table and then loomed over his wife. “The doctor said bed rest. I compromised with the damn couch. But you
said
you wouldn’t get up.”

Mike tried smiling at him, but her husband was no pushover these days. He watched her like a mother hen chasing its last chick. And while she appreciated the loving concern, the lack of mobility was making her
nuts
. Which, for her, translated into crabby.

“Damn it, Lucas,” she blurted, when his features remained stony, “I can’t just
sit
here.”

“You’re right,” he said, stepping around the table. Lifting her legs, he swung them back up onto the couch, then dropped a colorful crocheted afghan over her. “You’re going to just
lie
there.”

“Like a beached whale,” she muttered, looking down at her huge belly.

He dropped one long-fingered hand onto the mound of their children and gave her skin a slow stroke. “The mother of my kids is
not
a whale.” He paused, said, “A hippo, maybe.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“Kidding, kidding,” he said, laughing.

“You’re either very brave or very dumb, Rocket Man,” Mike muttered, willing herself not to chuckle as she covered his hand with hers. “Teasing a cranky woman with access to power tools is perhaps not your best move.”

“I’m not worried,” he said, and gave her that crooked smile that had first attracted her. “My wife loves me.”

“Yeah?” Mike asked. “And why’s that?”

“Because,” he said, leaning down to stroke one hand across her swollen belly, “I happen to think my very pregnant wife is the most beautiful, the sexiest, the most incredible female on the face of the planet.”

God, he could turn her to goo in no time at all. “Well, you’re right. There is
that
.”

“You’re doing great, Mike,” he said, and grinned again when one of the twins kicked at his hand.

“Oh yeah, great. I haven’t been out of the house in
weeks
.” She waved one hand at the high, arched window behind her. “Look. It’s April. It’s beautiful out there.”

“If you’re a good girl,” Lucas said, straightening up again, “maybe I’ll carry you out to the patio later.”

Oh, Mike really hated it that he was being so nice. Took all the fun out of whining. “You gonna have Jo bring the crane over?”

“Just a dolly,” he said, and bent down to plant another kiss on her forehead.

“Oh, that makes me feel
way
better.”

The front door opened and her sisters’ voices piped into the stillness.

“I don’t know what you’re complaining about,”
Samantha—“Sam”—was saying. “
You’re
not the one tossing your cookies every twenty minutes.”

“Yeah,” Jo countered, “I’m just the one left holding the bag while you and Mike gestate.”

“Okay,” Lucas said, as the two women stalked into the room. “I’m out of here. You guys have a good meeting.”

Then he disappeared. Like any smart man, he knew when to make himself scarce.

Jo carried a cardboard tray holding three cups of coffee and Sam held a bag with the Leaf and Bean logo on the front of it at arm’s distance.

“Oh, at last. My daily dose of caffeine,” Mike moaned.

“Thank God Shelly didn’t pull you off the stuff cold turkey,” Jo said as she handed over one of the tall cups. “As it is, you’re a pain in the ass. Without caffeine, you’d be—well, unimaginable.”

“I’d be insulted at that if it weren’t true,” Mike said, taking her first, glorious sip. “The good doctor said she didn’t want to be responsible for all the resulting dead bodies that would no doubt surround me if she cut me off,” Mike said, then asked, “Are those muffins?” as she reached for the bag.

“Blueberry,” Sam said, through gritted teeth.

“Gimme.”

Jo shook her head. “You keep eating like this and you’re going to weigh three hundred pounds by the time you deliver.”

“What do you mean,
going to
?” Mike asked, opening the bag and grabbing one of the still warm muffins. Greedily, she ripped off a chunk of the crunchy top and
popped it into her mouth. She sighed as she chewed. “God, Stevie’s the best.”

Stevie Ryan Candellano, wizard of espresso machines and baker extraordinaire, owned the Leaf and Bean, and as far as Mike was concerned, the woman should be president.

“How can you eat like that?” Sam whispered, her face going pale as paper.

“Hey, the kids’re hungry,” Mike whined. When she’d first found out she was pregnant, she’d laughingly teased Lucas by saying she was going to have twins. As it turned out, she was right. Now she was just eight weeks from delivery and felt as big around as she was tall.

“Just last night I forced Lucas to call Terrino’s and get me a large pizza with double anchovies.” Mike shook her head in fond memory as she chewed. “I swear, even now, I can still taste the little fishies.”

“Oooh, God . . .” Sam clapped one hand to her mouth and bolted for the guest bathroom off the kitchen.

Mike shrugged and took another bite.

“You don’t even feel guilty, do you?” Jo asked, shaking her head at her youngest sister.