He’s the last man on earth she should want…
For a guy she’s fantasized about throttling, Jake Bradshaw sure is easy on the eyes. In fact, he seriously tempts inn manager Jenny Salazar to put her hands to better use. Except this is the guy who left Razor Bay—and his young son, Austin, who Jenny adores like her own—to become a globetrotting photojournalist. He can’t just waltz back and claim Austin now.
Jake was little more than a kid himself when he became a dad. Sure, he'd dreamed of escaping the resort town, but he’d also truly believed that Austin was better off with his grandparents. Now he wants—no, needs—to make up for his mistake. He intends to stay in Razor Bay only until he can convince Austin to return with him to New York. Trouble is, with sexy, protective, utterly irresistible Jenny in his life, and his bed, he may never want to leave…
That Thing Called Love
Harlequin • ISBN-10: 0373776918
ISBN-13: 978-0373776917
“Just shoot me now.” Carefully avoiding looking at herself in the bathroom mirror, Jenny picked up the aspirin bottle, shook a couple tablets into her palm and washed them down with a glass of water.
Not that her headache was all that unbearable— its cause more from tension than a hangover. After all, wasn’t she flipping Pollyanna? She’d only had that one measly glass of wine. Sure, it had been a big sucker and she’d downed the thing on an empty stomach. But if she’d known it was going to turn her into that woman— the one who occasionally hung out at The Anchor and made drunken passes at all the guys— she’d have gone ahead and knocked back a couple more. Maybe then at least last night would be a nice comfortable blur in her head.
Blurry would be a definite improvement.
But she wasn’t getting off that easy. Because God forbid her memory should extend her the courtesy of failing for just one stinking night.
No, she remembered every embarrassing moment.
Not that all of it had been awful. After all, she recalled exactly how hard and warm Jake had felt. How yummy he’d smelled.
But sweet baby Jesus— she could have gone forever without remembering the horrified look on his face when she’d hit him with that truly suave proposition. And she didn’t even want to think about the way she’d draped herself all over him.
She didn’t get it. That so wasn’t her. She was no Mother Teresa but she didn’t sleep around casually, either, let alone make sloppy passes at men.
But there was something about Jake that... drew her. Oh, sure, there were his looks and that body. But if it were just about the physical she wouldn’t feel so unnerved. She could dismiss the desire to get closer to him horizontally as a mere matter of chemistry and attraction; biology, pure and simple.
But the way he drew her, the layers he’d managed to burrow beneath— that was something else. Something more.
At first she’d attributed the emotional tug she felt around him— a tug that to her unease was growing— to his budding relationship with Austin. The more things he did right, the more effort he put into his son, well, it just made her heart expand, that was all.
Not in a that-thing-called-love way, though! No sir, no how. Because where would that get her? Jake was leaving and taking Austin with him. It would be exceedingly stupid to allow herself to feel anything deeper than simple lust.
She had first hand experience with loving people and having them choose other things. Her dad had chosen wealth and power over her; her mother image and status. Damned if she’d go down that road again.
Just thinking about it had her head pounding harder than before. Leaning into the sink, she pressed her forehead against the mirror‘s cool glass. “Please,” she whispered. “If no one’s gonna shoot me, then a lightning bolt would do the trick. Something. Anything. I’m begging you.”
“Okay.” Her spine straightened. Time to stop obsessing over her idiocy and get to work. She needed to call in additional staff for both housekeeping and the restaurant for the coming weekend. Needed to touch base with the head gardener as well, to ask about his staffing needs and discuss his budget, since it was that time of year. She also needed to check with Maria to see how Abby was working out at the front desk, as it was important the younger woman be at full speed when things began accelerating in the coming weeks. What she didn’t need was to waste any more time thinking about Jake Bradshaw.
It didn’t pain her to admit, however, that she wouldn’t bitch if they managed not to run into each other for a while.
A nice long while.
Standing in the kitchen in his boxers, lazily scratching his stomach above the low-slung band, Jake wondered if he’d run into Jenny today. Maybe he oughtta drop by her place ‘round about three-thirty and see how Austin's pinball tournament had gone. She usually made it a point to be at her cottage for at least part of the afternoon when the kid came home from school.
“Damn, Bradshaw.” His hand stilled, then dropped to his side. He shook his head in disgust. “That’s pathetic.” Scowling at the coffee pot, he willed it to get a move on and produce the damn joe. Obviously he needed to clear his head.
Except...
If he thought that was pathetic, what was he supposed to make of the fact that he’d had a lush, desirable woman throw herself at him last night and he’d played the goddamn hero? Where had that come from? Wasn’t he the guy who had walked out on his kid? The man who cold bloodedly chose women who were a slightly upscale, sophisticated version of a good-time girl expressly because they wouldn’t expect a damn relationship from him?
So why chose now to be honorable? He grabbed the coffee maker’s glass carafe, ignoring the splatter and hiss on the hot plate as the last drops of the water dripped through the grounds and hit it. Gratefully, he poured himself a soup-bowl sized mug.
Gut in an unaccustomed uproar, he took a big gulp and burnt his tongue. Jerked in reaction to the scald and splashed some from the cup onto the back of his hand.
“Ouch! Shit!” He fumbled the mug onto the counter, gave his hand a fierce shake, then slapped the faucet on, producing a voluminous gush of water.
“Christ.” He thrust his hand beneath the cold flood.
And wouldn’t have been the least bit comforted if he’d known he was mimicking Jenny— who was in his head too damn deep as it was— when he said, “Somebody just shoot me now.”
End of Excerpt.
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