Turn My World Upside Down: Jo's Story (5 page)

“Yeah?” Sam asked. “Who?”

Fisting her hand around her cell phone in a grip tight enough to turn charcoal into a diamond, Jo only whispered, “Cash Hunter.”

The so-called road to Cash Hunter’s house was so narrow and rocky, it was little more than a trail.

Jo’s teeth rattled as she stubbornly steered her black truck between the overhanging branches of trees, bushes, and God knew what else. Her hands fisted on the steering wheel, she clenched her jaw and braced for impact as the truck jounced along this stupid track. “Couldn’t the man take care of the damn road? Is he really so busy out seducing women that he can’t take a day off to hack a way through this jungle?”

Okay, she told herself, maybe she ought to try to calm down a little before meeting up with Cash. Sure. No problem. All it should take is about thirty years and way more patience than
she
was known for. No matter how she tried to keep the man at a distance, he kept finding a way back in. What was that about?

“It’s not like I’m falling at his feet or something,” she muttered, and grunted when her right front tire dropped into a pothole the size of Kansas. “Damn it!”

The toolbox in the back of her truck jostled and clanged from the lockup box directly behind the cab. In fact, the whole damn truck was shaking as if it were
at the epicenter of an 8.1 earthquake. Which did nothing to improve her mood.

The trees were thick here, their branches stretched out across the road, thick and leafy, and just filling out as winter slid into spring. Sunlight stabbed its way through the overhanging tree limbs to lie in tiny, bright splotches of gold on the dirt road.

It felt as if every plant in the world were deliberately trying to hold her back. Keep her from reaching her destination. And if she were a big believer in signs, like her sister Sam, Jo would have turned the truck around and headed back to the house.

Unfortunately,
she
was the logical one. The organized one. She believed that people made their own destinies. Their own luck. Their own problems.

She winced as an old memory darted through her brain, dragging pain and shame behind it. Took her a minute or two, but Jo pushed that memory back into the dark recesses of her mind. She’d survived. That was all that mattered.

And memories could only hurt you if you actually gave them that power.

Well, Jo was never going to give away her power again. Not to anyone.

“Okay, focus,” she muttered thickly, concentrating on what Cash Hunter laughingly referred to as a “road.” A minute or two farther along the rutted lane, she passed the turnoff for the little guest cottage she and her sisters had renovated several months ago.

That had been a long couple of months, she remembered. Every time she turned around, there was Cash. Closing in on her personal space. Insinuating himself into her day. Smelling good and looking even better.
Reminding her that he was all male—as if any woman with two good eyes would need reminding—and in general making himself a pain in the ass.

Of course, her sisters hadn’t seen it. Oh no. All he’d had to do was bring a newly pregnant Mike a glass of water, or help Sam down from the roof, and they were charmed. But then, they were both married and he hadn’t been using his big guns on them.

He saved
that
ammunition for Jo.

And why, for God’s sake?

He could plainly see that she wasn’t interested—okay, that was a lie. She
was
interested, she was just not going to do anything about it. She couldn’t. She’d come up against a man like Cash once before. A man who was all charm and smiles. A man she trusted. A man she thought she knew.

A man who—

“Just
stop it
.” She slapped her hand against the steering wheel. Cash wasn’t that guy and, logically, she knew it.

He didn’t
scare
her, for pity’s sake.

He just . . .
bothered
her.

The man was a menace.

A menace who was, at the moment, holding her little brother hostage. “And that has to be a new high in low for the tricky bastard.” Her fists tightened on the wheel and her temper spiked until she was nearly blinded by the red haze coloring her vision. “Imagine using a kid to get to me.” She shook her head and her ponytail whipped from side to side. “Must be losing his touch. Can’t get a woman through charm, so then try kidnapping.”

But even as she thought it, she was already half dismissing
the notion. Just wasn’t Cash Hunter’s style. And while she steered her car through the Amazon jungle of his property, she thought back to his brief phone call.

“Before you get all snarly,” he’d said quickly, “I’m just calling to let you know Jack’s here. At my house. You can come and get him anytime.”

Snarly.

She’d show him snarly.

Then the tricky bastard had hung up before she could tell him what she thought of him. What she thought of driving out to his house. Or even ask him why the hell Jack was
there
in the first place. She and her little brother were going to have to have a long talk. And she wasn’t looking forward to it.

How was she supposed to know how to deal with a little boy?
She’d
never been a boy. She didn’t know how they thought, or what they wanted or needed. She’d never been around kids much, except for her sisters, and even then,
she’d
mostly been a kid herself.

Oh, she so wasn’t cut out for the “mother” thing.

She’d known all along that taking care of Jack while Papa was gone was going to be trouble. She’d just had no idea how
much
trouble was headed her way.

“And speaking of trouble . . .” The truck lurched out of the woods and into the bright, late-afternoon sun, and for a second or two her eyes were dazzled by the brightness. Which was probably why Cash Hunter looked so damn good to her as he took long, lazy strides toward the truck.

There couldn’t be any other reason, because frankly, Jo refused to be one of the thundering herd of women who were constantly coming and going from
the man’s life. She didn’t really like being one of a crowd. And besides, any man who’d been around the block as many times as
he
had, was bound to be bad news.

Still, he was really easy on the eyes.

His black hair was just long enough to be sexy and the sharp planes and angles of his face were softened when he smiled. Which he was doing at the moment. Damn it.

He wore a black T-shirt tucked into faded jeans and worn, beat-up cowboy boots that fed into every woman’s fantasy of a “tall, dark stranger.” Well, Jo told herself firmly, despite the fact that her pulse skipped a little unsteadily, not
every
woman’s fantasy.

He walked up to the truck, leaned on the open driver’s side window and looked in at her. Jo could have sworn she felt heat radiating from the man and wondered if he’d somehow found out how to do that purposely. She wouldn’t have put it past him.

“Heard your truck,” he said with a shrug. “Came out to meet you.”

“Where’s Jack?” she asked tightly.

“Good to see you, too, Josefina.” He smiled and she refused to notice how good it looked on him.

She gritted her teeth and folded her lips back to give him a grimace. “The name’s Jo.”

“Doesn’t suit you.”

“Gee, thanks very much. Back off.” When he did, slowly enough to make her hum in frustration, she opened the truck door, hopped down, and slammed it shut after her. She didn’t much like having to look up at him. Tall herself, she was used to meeting men more or less eyeball to eyeball. Cash, though, wouldn’t you
know it, was a good three or four inches taller than her own five feet nine.

He’d probably done
that
on purpose, too.

“Besides,” she added. “How would you know what suits me or not? You don’t even
know
me.”

“I know you better than you might think,” he said, and one corner of his mouth lifted, then fell again. “And all I meant was—Jo’s a very . . .
plain
name and you’re too beautiful to—”

Something inside Jo leaped up and growled. “Okay, let’s just get this out on the table. I’m not one of your ‘babes.’ ” She poked a stiff index finger into his chest and watched as his eyes narrowed. Good. Finally, she was getting through to him. “I’m not going to throw myself at your feet and beg you to whisk me off to bed.”

In a heartbeat, the flash of temper she’d noticed was gone, replaced by amusement that sparked in his black eyes. “Now I’m hurt.”

She blew out a breath and threw her hands wide. “I couldn’t hurt you with a hammer.”

He laughed. “Damn, I like you, Josefina.”

“Color me happy.” Man. Ten seconds with Cash Hunter and she was a raving loon. She stomped past him, farther up the drive, following the curve around a huge stand of trees that blocked her vision of the rest of the road. Glancing back at him, she demanded, “Where’s Jack?”

“In a hurry?”

“You have no idea.”

She wanted away from him. Not that she didn’t trust herself around him, but hey, why take chances? He was too practiced. Too smooth.

Too irritating.

“Beautiful,” my ass
, she thought. Here she stood in her work clothes—faded blue jeans, polished, steeltoed work boots, and her favorite
MARCONI CONSTRUCTION
T-shirt, in dark green. Yeah, she was the picture of elegance.

Not exactly the fairy-princess type.

Nope, no one had ever called Jo beautiful. Striking, sure, even pretty at times. But Sam was the beautiful sister and Mike was damn near gorgeous. It was as if the Marconi genes had just gotten better and better, until with the last child they’d come together just right.

Although, she thought, Mike was no longer the youngest Marconi. Now there was Jack. A little boy who hadn’t yet found his spot in the family. A boy she was responsible for. Which brought her right back to the reason for standing here talking to a man she ought to be avoiding like the plague.

Narrowing her eyes at Cash, she asked, “Where is my brother and why is he here?”

“In the backyard. And why don’t you ask him?”

“I plan to,” she said, and started walking. She took only a couple of steps before she stopped and looked back at him again. Lifting both hands before letting them fall to her sides again, she asked, “And this backyard is
where
?”

Jo turned in a circle and saw only trees, bushes, and at the edges of the road, wildflowers beginning to burst through the rocky ground to dot the area with blue and purple.

Shaking his head, Cash walked to her, took her arm and steered her around the curve in the road.

“You know,” Jo snapped, yanking her arm free of his
grasp before she could get too used to the sizzle of heat spreading up her arm from the spot his fingertips had touched. “I’ve been walking all on my own for several years now.”

Staring down at her, he studied her for what felt like way too long before he finally blurted, “You want to tell me why I bug you so much?”

Something inside her fisted, then released again. Oh, there was a reason. But she wasn’t about to tell him what she’d never told
anyone
. Still, maybe she should dial down her temper a little. Stop making every moment she spent with Cash a battleground. Otherwise, he’d just get too curious, start prodding her, and then she
would
have to get out her hammer and let him have it.

She gave him a tight smile. “Love to. But neither one of us has that much time at the moment.”

“You’ve got a tongue on you that could slice the flesh right off a man.”

“You’re still standing,” she pointed out.

He shook his head and folded his tanned, muscular arms across his chest. “Can’t figure out why I find such a nasty disposition so intriguing.”

She folded her own arms across her own chest, matching his stance deliberately. “Maybe it’s the refreshing change from your legion of drooling fans.”

One corner of his mouth quirked. “I don’t think so.”

Inhaling sharply, Jo blew the breath out again before trying a different tactic. If she kept goading him—no matter how much she enjoyed it—she’d never find Jack and get home. “Look. I don’t want to play games. I’m too tired for one of our typical ‘conversations.’ So why
don’t you just show me where Jack is and we’ll both get out of your hair?”

Nodding, he unfolded his arms and said, “Okay, we’ll play it your way for now. But sooner or later, you’re going to talk to me, Josefina.”

“Don’t put money on it,” she muttered.

“There’s that prize-winning personality again. Can’t understand why I enjoy that so much.”

Before she could tell him what he could do with his “enjoyment,” Cash shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and started walking. “The house is just around the bend there.”

They came around the edge of the stand of trees and Jo stopped dead in the middle of the road. She
felt
her jaw drop, but was simply too stunned to snap it closed again.

The house was
breathtaking
.

Tucked into the trees, it was a palace of wood and glass. Sharp angles slid into curved walls and back into a slice of terrace that dropped nearly to the surface of the lake crouched at the foot of the building. The forest reflected in the windows until it looked as though the house itself were a part of the woods that surrounded it.

Jo took one slow step, then another, unable to tear her gaze from the structure. It was . . .
magic
.

“You like it?”

Pride hummed in his tone and she couldn’t even be irritated by how close he stood beside her. “It’s wonderful,” she said softly, her voice trailing away as she studied his home.

Everywhere she looked, she found something new to admire. The curve of a window box at a tiny dormer
window. The wide expanse of glass that swept around the far edge of the house like a clear shawl the building had wrapped around itself. Two river-rock chimneys sprouted from the multilevel roofline and a second-story balcony zigzagged down the side of the house in a series of ramps that reminded Jo of an old-fashioned fire escape—but this one was built for sheer beauty.