“I can’t believe Lucas or Meggie would object to the rebuilding.” Jessica paced the length of the kitchen. After a frenzied afternoon, everyone else, including Myrna and Carlton, had finally left. “Especially the church.”
Dylan leaned against the counter, arms folded, face set tight. “According to Max, they not only objected, they picked up a hammer and threw it right at him.”
Jessica dragged her hands through her hair as she continued to pace. “It can’t be. Meggie and Lucas would never hurt anyone—” she hesitated “—unless there was a reason of course.”
Dylan frowned. “The men aren’t convinced.”
Jessica groaned. “So he actually saw Meggie? Really saw her?”
“He believes he saw something. And so did the other men who were in the church. They also heard voices, a man and a woman arguing.”
Jessica shook her head. “Meggie and Lucas never argue.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve seen the strongest relationship dissolve when it comes to remodeling.”
Jessica threw her hands up. “I’ve just lost my work crew and you’re making jokes. I can’t believe this.”
He took hold of her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. “Have you considered the possibility that someone staged this?”
She frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“If no one will work here, you can’t build your town, right?”
She didn’t like what he was getting at. “Of course not.”
“And didn’t you tell me that a review board comes here in January to assess your progress and determine if they’ll grant you a license?”
She nodded.
“And what happens if you don’t get your license?”
She didn’t want to think about it. She couldn’t. “Why would anyone do that to me?”
“Myrna wants this land. Someone else might, too. Or maybe someone doesn’t want you to build a youth center here. You tell me.”
It was a strong possibility, Jessica knew that. Especially after what Jared and Jake had gone through the past few months with someone sabotaging their land. Sam and Myrna had both wanted to buy Makeshift, but Sam had never pestered her about it. And Myrna. Well, Myrna was just Myrna. Jessica hadn’t believed before that her stepmother had anything to do with the problems Jake and Jared had, and she didn’t believe she had anything to do with this, either.
She sighed heavily. But whether it was Meggie and Lucas or whether it was someone else, the effect was the same. If no one would work here, she’d fall behind schedule. She couldn’t let that happen.
She met Dylan’s steady gaze. “We have to find another crew, Dylan. We have to.”
He moved his hands up her shoulders to her neck. His fingers were warm on her skin, and she wanted desperately to lean into him.
“I’ll have to bring in men from farther away,” he said, and his voice sounded thick. “It’s going to take some time.”
He let his hands fall away, then looked at her for a long moment and left. Her skin still burned where he’d touched her. With a sigh, Jessica sank back against the counter. Time was something she did not have in abundance.
She looked at the blueprints still lying on the table. Makeshift was her town. The kids needed it. She needed it.
She was going to build it.
She just had to figure out how.
* * *
“Don’t cry, Meggie,” Lucas said softly. “Please don’t cry.”
Meggie sat in the front church pew, her face buried in her hands. “Oh, Lucas, Jessica must be so angry with me.”
“She’s not angry. She may not understand, but she knows we’d never do anything to hurt her.”
Lucas sat beside Meggie. It was starting to get dark, and soft evening light streamed in through the tall narrow windows of the church. Meggie looked like an angel, he thought. A true angel. She’d been crying since the men had run off, and it broke his heart to see her so miserable.
“And why did that man say we were arguing?” she said between sobs. “We were simply discussing whether they’d properly placed the altar when he sneaked up on us.”
Lucas smiled. “I’m afraid he was right, Meggie, dear. We were arguing.”
She sniffed indignantly. “Well, it might not matter to you, but the altar does belong closer to the front row. Mrs. Wimple wouldn’t be able to hear if the altar was set back too far.”
He didn’t have the heart to remind her Mrs. Wimple was gone, as was everyone else.
“And I most certainly did not throw a hammer at him,” she said sharply. “I was simply moving it before it fell on that piece of glass he was replacing.”
“I know.”
She looked up at him, and the light reflected off the tears in her eyes. “How did this happen, Lucas? How could that man have seen me? No one has ever seen either of us. Well, except for Hannibal.”
Lucas didn’t understand it, either. They’d always needed to be careful about their voices, but no one had ever seen them. Something was happening here. He felt...stronger. And Meggie was glowing brighter. Was it because of the church? Was it possible that, if the church was rebuilt, he and Meggie might be able to move on, as they should have so long ago?
Lucas had no idea. But he prayed Jessica and Dylan would soon have that answer for him.
* * *
Dylan had been in Jessica’s bedroom all morning using her phone. He’d made a dozen calls to every contact he had within a six-hundred-mile radius, but he was batting zero. There were some possibilities in three weeks, but no one wanted to start a new job during the holidays.
He paced, wondering if he should expand his radius, then gave up that idea. He could call to South America and it wouldn’t matter. The chance of finding a replacement crew before the New Year was somewhere between almost none and none.
He sighed heavily and sat on the edge of Jessica’s bed. She’d driven into town earlier, determined to place an ad in the local paper. But he’d seen what she’d come up with the first time she used that technique, and he held little hope that this time would be any different.
Her mattress was soft, he realized. Like she was. The scent of jasmine drifted from her pillow. His sleep had become practically nonexistent as he thought of her each night in here, dressed in silk and lace. He could still vividly see her long bare arms and legs, her smooth thighs and round breasts. He even thought of those damn red toes of hers.
Every time she took a bath or shower, he made sure he had something to do elsewhere. The sound of the water conjured up images that nearly drove him mad.
The persistent honk of a car horn had him jumping up guiltily. He looked out the window and saw Jessica pulling up in front of the hotel. Several young men climbed out of the bed of her truck. Another truck and a small sedan pulled alongside.
What the hell was she up to? he wondered, and went down to meet her on the hotel steps. Her companions, five of them, fell in behind.
“Dylan. I want you to meet some friends of mine.” Jessica smiled brightly and turned to her entourage.
“This is Tony—” a pencil-thin redhead smiled “—Peter—” a dark-haired, dark-skinned kid nodded “Larry” a short-haired, diamond-stud-in-the-ear blonde raised his hand “—Josh—” a barrel-chested kid with curly brown hair stuck out his hand “—and Dean.”
The last kid was tall and lanky with piercing gray eyes and black hair. He stood back from the rest, leaning against Jessica’s truck, his arms folded.
Impatience rippled through Dylan. Here he was, facing total shutdown of the project, and Jessica was bringing company to visit. He didn’t have time for this.
“You’ll have to excuse me,” he said tightly, forcing his irritation down, “but I’ve got more phone calls to make. I’m trying to find us a crew.”
He started to turn away, but Jessica took hold of his arm and pulled him back. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. This is your crew.”
He stared at her blankly. “What did you say?”
“This is your new crew. Plus four more tomorrow.”
He looked at the kids again, then back at Jessica. His first impulse was to say she must be kidding, but he knew she wasn’t. She was dead serious. “I don’t think you understand, Jessica. I need qualified men, experienced men.”
Dylan felt the bristling among the group, especially Dean, who narrowed his eyes and pushed away from the truck.
“They are experienced, Dylan. Each of them has worked with their fathers or for someone else in the building trades. Especially Dean. He’s been framing houses for a local builder for two years.”
Dylan looked at the youth, who glared back.
Taking hold of Jessica’s arm, Dylan pulled her inside the hotel. “Are you out of your mind? We aren’t building a tree house here. This is hard work, long hours. These are kids. Kids who should be in school, I might add.”
Frowning, Jessica put a finger to her lips. “They all have vacation until after the first of the year, plus several of them are on home study. And they want to work. They just need someone to give them a chance.” She leaned close, her expression fervent. “Everyone deserves at least one chance, Dylan. Don’t you believe that?”
He did, dammit. Dylan had barely turned eighteen when Tom Quincy hired him on blind faith and taught him how to swing a hammer. God only knew where he’d have ended up if the man hadn’t given him a chance. He swore silently.
“This isn’t one chance, Jessica. It’s nine. I’ll have to hold hands with every one of them. Time and mistakes are both money. Can you afford that?”
She lifted her gaze to his. “Dylan, don’t you understand? That’s what Makeshift is all about. We can’t afford not to. It’s why I’m here, why I’m doing this. Please, just give it a try.” She leaned closer still and placed her hands on his arms. “Please.”
He felt her body tense against his, and her whispered plea circled him like a net. He was caught. She could have asked him to build a skyscraper with paper clips and he would have done it.
And at this point he didn’t have any better ideas, either.
He looked up at the ceiling and sighed. “I’m going to regret this.”
She laughed, then reached up and kissed his cheek. “You won’t. I promise.”
When she went out to tell the kids, he shook his head and let out a long slow breath. The scent of her lingered, and his cheek felt warm where her lips had been.
She was wrong, he thought. He already did regret it.
* * *
“I think I’m going to be sick.” Annie closed her eyes and sank onto the chair in front of the dressing table. Strains of Beethoven floated in from the church organ outside, and the scent of roses filled the air.
“No, you’re not.” Jessica handed Annie a soda cracker. “You’re too beautiful to be sick.”
“You’ll be fine,” Savannah said, hooking the clasp of Annie’s pearl necklace. “And Jessica’s right. You’re the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen.”
Annie shook her head. “I saw your wedding pictures. You were.”
Because the conversation distracted Annie, Jessica didn’t interrupt as she and Savannah disputed who was the more beautiful bride. They were both beautiful of course. Breathtakingly so.
Emma sat on the sofa, kicking her feet as she fidgeted with the flowers in her basket. “How much longer?” she asked.
Jessica stuck her head out the door. Jared and Jake stood at the front of the church by a huge arrangement of red and white flowers. Jared glanced nervously at his watch. She scanned the crowded pews, then her heart tripped as one figure sat taller than the rest.
Dylan?
“Annie,” she said, her pulse racing as she turned back to her soon-to-be sister-in-law, “did you invite Dylan?”
“Jared did.” Annie clipped on a pearl-drop earring. “I guess he ran into him last night in town at his bachelor party and they had a few beers.”
Jared invited Dylan? Jessica couldn’t believe it. Jared barely spoke to Dylan, and now he’d invited him to his wedding? And where did he get that suit he had on? He looked absolutely devastating.
“I saw Dylan this morning before Savannah picked me up,” Jessica said thoughtfully. “He never mentioned he was coming.”
“Maybe he decided at the last minute.” Savannah adjusted Annie’s veil. “And since it’s just we girls, you want to tell us what’s going on with you two?”
Jessica felt her cheeks warm. “Well, we just hired a few of the kids from my teen group in town, and they’ve been terrific. Even Dean Johnson, one of the most reluctant kids in the group, has—”
“That’s not what we mean, Jessie, and you know it.” Savannah nudged Annie. “She’s almost as red as her dress, Annie. Something’s up.”
Jessica forced herself to stop staring at Dylan and closed the door, pretending sudden interest in straightening the hair she’d swept up on her head. “Nothing at all is up. We work together, that’s all.”
“She’s in the denial stage,” Annie said knowingly. Savannah nodded with a sigh.
Jessica pressed her lips together. “There’s nothing to deny.”
“Stubborn. Just like her brothers.” Savannah picked up a tube of lipstick and swept the rose color over her lips. “Look me in the eye, Jess,” she said, “and tell me the man’s not gorgeous.”
“I also happen to know from a reliable source that she likes, uh, attractive posteriors, too.” Annie glanced at Emma, who was humming and counting rose petals. “I’ve also noticed that she’s noticed the said subject, if you know what I mean.”
Jessica ground her teeth. She’d mentioned to Annie a long time ago that she was particular to that part of a man’s anatomy. She certainly regretted it now. “Okay. So he’s not hard to look at, especially from behind. That means nothing. He’s not my type.”
“Girl,” Savannah drawled in her heaviest Georgia accent, “that man is every woman’s type. And the way he looks at you isn’t exactly with indifference. I’d throw those potatoes in a pot and bring them to a boil if I were you.”
A knock at the door startled them. Eyes wide, Annie jumped up. Her skin glowed, and her eyes shined brightly.
“You look beautiful,” Jessica whispered to Annie, then squeezed both women’s hands. “I couldn’t have found better sisters-in-law.”
Emma joined them and they all hugged, then Annie picked up her bouquet and sucked in a deep breath. “Let’s do it.”
The church was crowded with friends and family for the bride and groom. Jessica’s heart hammered as she followed Savannah down the aisle, and when her gaze met Dylan’s, she nearly stumbled. No man had ever looked at her the way he was. As if she were the only woman in the room. The only woman in the world.
As if he wanted her. Really wanted her.
She looked quickly away. But he didn’t want her. He’d made that perfectly clear.
Dylan forgot to breathe as he watched Jessica walk down the aisle. His pulse pounded in his temple as she passed him, and the brief glance she sent him made his heart lurch. He tried to watch the ceremony, tried to listen to the minister, but all he saw, all he thought about, was Jessica.
She was dressed in red. A form-fitting knee-length number that could make a man forget his own name. She’d piled that thick shiny hair of hers on top of her head somehow, and curls cascaded down her long neck. His palms itched every time he looked at that neck, and his gut tightened painfully every time he looked at her spectacular legs.
He watched her cry when Jared kissed Annie, then laugh when the bride and groom ran through a shower of confetti outside the church. He watched her smile for pictures and for the toasts, watched her sip champagne, and later, after the band played the bridal waltz, he did what he’d wanted to do from the first moment he’d watched her walk down that aisle: he pulled her into his arms and out onto the dance floor.
It was a slow dance. He wouldn’t have bothered with anything else. He’d deprived himself of enough when it came to Jessica. He’d have this dance, just one, and be done with it.
“Nice wedding,” he murmured, though he really didn’t feel like talking. She was stiff in his arms, but soft and warm. He breathed in the scent of her, pulling it into his lungs and holding it.
“Yes.”
Her formal tone frustrated him, but he knew she wasn’t unaffected by their closeness. He felt her body tremble, and when his fingers brushed her wrist, the rapid pulse of her heart betrayed her. Desire swam through him like a living breathing creature, and he struggled to control the beast. One dance, he told himself. He could manage one dance.
Jessica felt light-headed, though she’d only had one glass of champagne. Every nerve focused on the man holding her. His cheek brushed hers. His hand rested on the small of her back. She felt the heat of his body, smelled his after-shave. The black suit emphasized his broad chest and muscular shoulders, and the combination of smooth sophistication and rugged masculinity left her breathless.
“Jared and Annie look happy.” Dylan glanced over at the bride and groom.
Jessica smiled, relieved to have her attention pulled elsewhere. “They had a tough time getting together. Jared felt guilty after our brother’s death, and he didn’t think he deserved happiness. That’s why he ran off to South America for almost four years.”
“It’s easy to get lost in Venezuela,” Dylan said quietly.
She looked at him. “I never mentioned Venezuela.”
He pulled her a little closer. “Didn’t you? I guess Jared must have said something last night.”
His warm breath fanned her neck and she couldn’t stop the ripple of need that coursed through her.
“I admit I’m surprised that Jared invited you today,” she said, inching away. “But I’m also glad he’s not so hostile anymore.”
“No doubt that getting married put him in an agreeable mood.”
“Maybe you should try it, then.” Jessica smiled as Digger danced by with Annie’s mother. “Just to improve your disposition.”
“I tried it. Had the opposite effect, I’m afraid.”
Jessica faltered. He’d said the words without the slightest hint of emotion. As if he was simply stating a cold fact. “So one lost race puts you out of the running, huh? I never took you for a quitter, Dylan.”
She forced her tone to be light and her manner aloof, when she was anything but. Dylan loosened his hold on her, and the heat that had nearly exploded between them cooled.
He gazed down at her, his dark eyes intense. “The only thing I quit is making mistakes.”
Neither one of them had realized the slow dance had ended. The band struck up a fast swing number, and before Dylan could blink, Jessica was yanked from his arms by Jared’s foreman, Hugh Slater.
Her gaze stayed on Dylan’s as she danced with the other man. He watched her, and he ached to hold her against him again. But he’d had his dance, he thought as he turned away. He’d have to be satisfied with that.
He made his way to the bar, where he found Jake nursing a beer. His tie and cummerbund had been loosened long ago, and his black Stetson was tipped precariously on his head. He slapped Dylan on the back and motioned for the bartender to bring a beer. Jared joined them a moment later, and the three men leaned back against the bar.
Jake gestured to the dance floor. “My little sister’s really something, isn’t she?”
Even before he swung his glance around, Dylan knew it was a mistake. If he couldn’t hold her in his arms, he sure as hell didn’t want to watch any other man hold her.
She was still dancing with Slater, not a slow dance, more like a hard-rock number, which she moved sensuously to. Dylan took in her swaying curves and high-heeled legs and felt as if he’d been poleaxed. Sweat broke out on his forehead when she dipped forward.
Dylan took a long hard pull on his beer. “Yeah. She’s something all right.”
“How’s that crew of hers working out?” Jared asked.
Dylan turned back around. “So far pretty good. They’re green, but eager to work. They even showed up this morning. I haven’t had a crew that wanted to work on Saturday in years.”
“Have they seen anything unusual?” Jake asked.
He shook his head. “I still can’t find any logical reason why the old crew quit. I don’t buy the ghost story, but I’m keeping a close eye on things.”
“I don’t know what we would’ve done without you, pal. Jake and I definitely owe you one.” Jared grinned over at Dylan. “Jessica giving you trouble?”
Trouble? Dylan nearly laughed. She was trouble with a capital T. But not the kind that Jared meant. “No, but if she asks, you mentioned Venezuela to me in town Friday night.”
Jared hadn’t time to answer before his new bride stood in front of him, and Savannah in front of Jake. A slow romantic song filled the air. Jake and Jared both grinned and pushed away from the bar.
“Be right back, Dylan. The Stone men never miss an opportunity to hold a beautiful woman in their arms.”
Dylan looked at Jessica, who was dancing with Sam now. The Stone women didn’t miss an opportunity with a man, either, he thought irritably. “I’ll be heading out in a minute. Thanks for inviting me.” He shook Jared’s hand, then Jake’s, and smiled at Savannah and Annie. “I’d take Jessica home, but I’ve got my bike.”
“Don’t worry,” Savannah said over her shoulder as she tugged Jake onto the dance floor. “Sam’s taking her home. She’ll be in good hands.”
In good hands. Sam’s hands. That image had Dylan tightening his hold around the bottle in his hand. He glanced back at the dance floor, gritting his teeth at the sight of Jessica’s arms looped around Sam’s neck. He began to swear under his breath, then quickly caught himself as he realized Emma stood staring at him.
He forced a smile. “Hi.”
“Hi.” She kept staring intently, her eyes narrowed. She moved to the side of him and looked behind him.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
She shook her head slowly. “Jessica told Savannah and Annie you aren’t hard to look at. I don’t think so, either.”
Dylan lifted a brow. “Thanks. She say anything else?”
“She said you look good from behind, too, but I like you better from the front.”
Dylan struggled to hold back the laugh in his throat. “Thanks again. I think you look pretty good, too.”
“Thanks.”
From the mouths of babes, Dylan thought with a chuckle as Emma skipped off. His chuckle faded quickly, though, as he glanced back at Jessica. Sam held her closer still, and she didn’t seem to mind a bit. She smiled up at him, whispering something into his ear. Sam laughed.
Dylan’s insides knotted and he slammed his beer down. He’d had enough beer and enough Jessica. He’d wanted to be here for Jared, but he’d never been good at parties, especially weddings. He needed a long ride on his bike in the fresh air to cool his blood, anyway.
But almost two hours later, after he’d made it back to Makeshift, his blood hadn’t cooled. In fact, when he realized that Jessica still wasn’t home, his temperature moved steadily upward, degree by degree, with each passing minute.
He sat at the foot of the stairs with Hannibal and stared at the antique grandfather clock Jessica had placed in the lobby. It ticked loudly. What if they’d had an accident? Sam could have drunk too much. Jessica could be lying in a ditch somewhere, hurt.
Twelve o’clock bonged with a deafening echo.
He stood, pacing the foyer, imagining other scenarios and reasons she might be late.
But he kept coming back to the same one: Jessica, with Sam, in his bed.
The clock chimed the quarter, then half hour. Then one o’clock.
He’d go look for her, dammit. If she was with Sam, then fine, but at least he’d know. Then he could forget about it. About her.
Yeah. Right.
He was heading for the front door when he heard a truck drive up. He looked out. Sam’s truck. Hannibal lifted his head, listening to the string of curses Dylan shot out when Jessica didn’t come in right away. He was seriously considering sending the dog out for her when the hotel door opened.
She came in quietly, shoes in her hand, and slowly closed the door behind her. She started to tiptoe across the lobby when she suddenly caught sight of Dylan sitting at the foot of the stairs. Startled, she looked at him. Several curls had come loose from the knot on top of her head, and her cheeks were flushed.
“It’s after one in the morning.” Dylan grabbed hold of the banister and stood. “Party went kind of late.”
“And you left kind of early,” she said, her gaze holding his. “Without saying goodbye, I might add.”
“Yeah, well, you were busy with Sam at the time.”
“I wasn’t that busy.”
He watched the sway of her hips as she moved slowly toward him. “Don’t you think you should have let me know you’re all right?”
“Why?” she asked.
Did she have to look so damn seductive? he wondered. Was she doing this to him on purpose? “You could’ve been in an accident.”
“Do I look like I was in an accident?” Her voice was almost a purr as she held out her arms.
He let his gaze skim over her curves in the snug red dress. His groin tightened painfully. She didn’t look as if she’d been in an accident, but she certainly might cause one. “So where were you?”
She shook her head slowly and sighed. “Good night, Dylan. I’m going to bed.”
He caught her arm when she started to move past him. “I was worried about you.”
Her eyes glittered like blue ice. “I already have two brothers who worry enough, thank you. I don’t need, or want, another one.”
He held her still when she tried to yank her arm away. “Of all the things I want, Jessica,” he said roughly, “being your brother is not one of them.”
Her eyes turned a deep blue as she searched his face. “What is it you want, Dylan?” she asked softly. “What?”
“This.”
He couldn’t pretend any longer. He couldn’t deny it. It was suddenly all too much, wanting her as he did, needing to feel her body against his.
With an oath, he dragged her against him and covered her mouth with his.