Mr. Predictable: Mr. Predictable / Too Many Cooks
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“I think I removed all the glass,” he murmured as he rinsed her hand. “Now for the antiseptic and bandages. You’ll be almost as good as new.”
Within a few minutes he had completed his first-aid ministrations. Moriah still hadn’t spoken and her face was still blotchy with color. He noticed she’d taken a couple more of those cathartic breaths she was so fond of, in order to restore her composure.
The moment he released her hand she shot from the bathroom like a cannonball. “Thanks, Jake. I need to check on my dad before I turn in. See you tomorrow morning.”
Chuckling, he watched her beat a hasty retreat. Humming softly to the tune playing on the canned music system, Jake squatted down to clean up the broken glass. All the while he kept replaying the scene with Moriah. She certainly had turned skittish around him this evening.
Self-assured and confident as she usually was, he hadn’t expected that. It made him wonder about her sex life—or lack thereof.
What kind of romantic relationship could she possibly have when she lived at the resort and cared for her father and catered to her guests? Not much of one, he figured. He wondered why. She was certainly personable, intelligent and attractive. So what was the deal with Moriah?
Jake went to bed that night with Moriah on his mind—and not a single thought of the graphic shop that had consumed the past ten years of his life.
MORIAH, feeling a little frazzled, hiked toward the stables to retrieve two horses. She hadn’t slept worth a damn the previous night, thanks to her encounter with Jake—the ornery rascal! Every time she closed her eyes she kept seeing his appealing image in that skimpy towel that parted to expose his bare hip, not to mention the unhindered view of his broad chest, washboarded belly and muscular legs. Damn! Wasn’t it enough that she’d had her hands on his racy bikini underwear? Then she’d seen him fresh from the shower, wearing a towel. Sheesh! She did not need to become more aware of him than she already was.
Well, she’d just have to forget last night happened, she told herself sensibly. Jake was her guest and he had a ways to go before he learned to adjust to a less stressful lifestyle. Plus, she had no interest in men who were so forcefully driven toward success that they couldn’t devote time and attention to their significant others.
She’d noticed at the buffet breakfast earlier that morning that Jake kept checking his watch. She should’ve taken that away from him, too, she supposed, because he was too clued in to time schedules.
He hadn’t mixed and mingled with her other guests at breakfast, just sat at the far end of the table with his gaze glued to his plate. She noticed he stuck a couple of slices of bacon in a napkin and tucked them in his pocket before he left the lodge. Snacks for the pup, no doubt. For all his grousing and complaining about the imposition of having the pooch underfoot, Jake was taking good care of the animal. Better care, in fact, than her other guests took of their temporary pets. It proved that Jake wasn’t self-absorbed and focused solely on himself. She liked that about him.
“Hey, Mori, how’s it goin’?”
She glanced up and waved at Kent Foster, the former rodeo star who had signed on to care for the livestock and guide her guests along the riding trails. Although Kent had broken several bones during his career as a bull rider, and walked with a noticeable limp, the wiry cowboy never failed to show up and put in a hard day’s work. His love of animals was apparent in the way he tended the horses. He talked to them, petted them and pampered them as if they were his children.
“Things are going fine,” Moriah replied as she halted beside Kent.
“Yeah?” Kent grinned as he adjusted his Resistol hat. “Word around the ranch is that we have a hostile guest on our hands.”
“Jake is beginning to settle in,” she said optimistically. “We’re riding this morning. Have any of the other guests contacted you about going riding?”
Kent nodded, then brushed the blades of straw off his faded jeans. “Yup. Three of ’em,” he drawled. “I thought we’d follow the path that meanders up to the lookout point that towers over the river. Nothin’ like a breathtakin’ view of the great outdoors to start your mornin’ off right.”
“I better make my rounds before my guests scatter,” Moriah replied.
“I’ll fetch a couple of saddle horses for you.” Kent pivoted on his boot heels to retrieve the mounts. In less than a minute he returned, leading a sorrel and buckskin.
“I don’t know much about Jake’s ridin’ experience, so I’ll give him Ol’ Sally. She’s so easygoin’ that you can climb on the wrong side of her and she doesn’t even twitch her ears.”
Moriah decided she could take lessons from the good-natured sorrel. She’d become extremely twitchy while Jake was ambling around the cabin in his towel, looking so incredibly appealing that she couldn’t keep her eyes off him. When he brushed up against her, his arousing touch and the scent of him bombarded her. The very last thing Moriah needed was to become more aware of that man than she already was. The prospect had disaster written all over it in flaming letters.
Well, she’d just have to concentrate on keeping an emotional distance, she lectured herself as she mounted the buckskin.
Fifteen minutes later, Moriah tethered the horses beside Jake’s cabin, then climbed up the steps. Before she could rap on the door, it swung open.
Jake frowned curiously as she offered him the red rose clasped in her hand. “What’s that for?”
“I deliver a rose to each guest every morning,” she informed him with a cheery smile.
“Don’t tell me, let me guess. We’re supposed to take time to smell the roses along the pathway of life.”
“Very astute, Jake.” She eased past him to retrieve a vase from the cabinet.
Moriah glanced over her shoulder at the table, then blushed when she remembered the disaster she’d caused because she got so rattled when she walked in on Jake while he was draped with a towel. “Is the pup okay? He didn’t suffer any glass cuts, did he?” she asked, striving for a casual tone.
“He’s fine. No harm done. And by the way, why did I get this fuzzball of a dog for my companion when I noticed your other guests have more manly pets? I’ve seen a Doberman, a chow and a German shepherd trailing behind some of the guests. I get the wuss dog that has a thing for skunks. Thanks so much, Mo.”
Moriah set the rose on the table and pasted on a smile. “Don’t take it personally, Jake. The pup is a new arrival and so are you. Besides, those supposed watchdogs you mentioned turned out to be wimps. That’s why their owners foisted them off on the animal shelter. You raise your voice to the Doberman and he cuts and runs scared.”
Jake gave her the once-over as she headed for the door. “Nice outfit, Mo. I see you’re impersonating a flower garden today.”
“And you’re wearing ho-hum green,” she noted.
A wry grin pursed his lips and he waggled his eyebrows at her. “Only on the outside. Inside I’m hot-to-trot red.”
Moriah felt heat rising to her cheeks. Having seen Jake in a towel made it infinitely easier to visualize him wearing his flashy briefs. That was not a good thing. “Well, that’s a start in spicing up your life, I’d say,” she said breezily. “Shall we go riding?”
“Can’t wait,” he enthused. “I feel the overwhelming need for the speed you’re so fond of.”
“I was planning a leisurely ride so we could get to know each other better.”
“No, you’re planning to lecture me,” he said perceptively, then swept his arm toward the door. “Let’s get this show on the road, Mo. We’re burning daylight.”
4
JAKE AMBLED toward the horses. “So what’s up with your loud clothes? I’ve already figured out they’re a disguise of sorts.”
Moriah missed a step. “I beg your pardon?”
“Why are you begging my pardon? You haven’t offended me in almost five minutes,” he said flippantly.
“I just happen to like colorful clothes,” she replied as she mounted the buckskin.
“Aw, c’mon, Mo. I’m not as stupid as I look.” Jake swung effortlessly onto the sorrel mare. “For some reason, you don’t want the male of the species to notice how attractive and well-built you are. That wild wardrobe is not so much an attention-grabber as a clever distraction. So is that perky, bubbling facade of yours. I wonder if anyone at Triple R has ever actually met the real Moriah Randell.”
Moriah felt her temper rising when Jake tried to pick her apart. Then she realized she’d just experienced what he must be feeling when she tried to impose her unfamiliar beliefs on him. Willfully, she focused on remaining cool, calm and collected. “No need to worry about me. We’re here to discuss methods of altering your routines and improving your life, remember?”
“How can I forget? You harp at me every chance you get. So what’s your story, sugarplum?”
This man was going to be even more trouble than she originally anticipated. Her other guests arrived here, keyed on themselves, anxious for suggestions and solutions to their stress. Not Jake, damn him. In an effort to keep the focus off him, Jake poked and prodded into her psyche. Well, if opening up to him promoted his willingness to relax and confide in her, then so be it. Refusing to answer his questions might leave the impression that she was as obstinate and unapproachable as he was. One mule-stubborn individual around here was plenty.
Moriah led the way to the path that skirted the river and formulated her thoughts. “My story is nothing earth-shaking,” she began as she settled comfortably on the saddle. “I spent a great deal of time caring for my ailing mother during adolescence, while my father worked long days and made numerous business trips. When my mother died, my dad dealt with his grief by taking on even more projects that kept him away from home.”
“So you didn’t have the opportunity to run fast and loose as a teenager,” he presumed.
“No, caretakers are rarely allowed that privilege,” she agreed, smiling ruefully. “By the time I entered college I had a solid background in caregiving and nursing. I also liked to dabble in psychology and I developed an interest in stress management, after watching Dad run himself ragged. After I graduated I worked as the assistant director of stress management for several corporate firms in Oklahoma City.”
“If you were doing what you were trained to do, why did you leave your job?” Jake asked, watching her astutely.
Moriah squirmed uneasily in the saddle. “Because I…” Her voice fizzled out. She drew a deep breath, ignored her humiliation and blurted out, “Because I got my heart broken and I wanted to make a new start.”
“Good enough reason,” Jake remarked. “Who was the jerk?”
Moriah relaxed enough to chuckle. After five years, she could be a little more objective. Plus, Jake took her side without question, which made her feel better about herself. “He was my boss. A blond Adonis who could charm women—especially the naive ones like me—into believing he was the quintessence of Mr. Right. He took advantage of my willingness to share the workload and handle paperwork, which made him look good to his corporate clients. I thought all the attention he showered on me meant he felt the same way I did.”
“But…?” he prompted as he eased the sorrel up beside her.
“But he didn’t,” Moriah murmured. “Turns out he was bed hopping with three other women in the office. I was supplying him with all the spare time needed for his personal version of recreational pursuits. I realized that the only relationships I knew anything about, the only kinds I excelled at, were the ones built on someone else’s need and dependence on me. I know I’m shamefully inadequate as a serious marriage prospect.”
Jake glanced over at her and frowned. “How’d you arrive at that conclusion?”
Moriah shrugged. “Because it made sense. I was never really wanted for myself, only what I could provide in the way of help and assistance for others. In short, I grew up learning to be there for someone else.”
He snorted in disagreement. “You’re selling yourself short, Mo. Like I said, you’ve got the looks, brains and outgoing personality, despite those loud clothes.”
“Maybe so, but I always end up attracting people who depend on me for emotional and physical support. I’m like an ambulance to the rescue. My flashy clothes merely announce: Hey, here I am. What can I do for you today?”
Jake threw back his dark head and barked a laugh. It was a full rich sound that seemed to come from deep inside him. Fascinated, Moriah stared at him, watching his sensuous lips curve upward and his obsidian eyes sparkle with inner spirit. A warm, fuzzy sensation fluttered through her body when she realized she’d seen her first glimpse of the man trapped inside his rigid routine.
“You should do that more often, Jake. Laugher definitely becomes you.”
“Well, I haven’t had all that much to laugh about in a decade,” he admitted. “When I lost my parents things turned serious in a hurry.”
Moriah halted her horse to stare at the scenic view of the river, hoping Jake would experience the same sense of peace and tranquility that flooded over her. Apparently, he did. She noticed his grasp on the reins slackened and his gaze wandered admiringly across the river that glittered like mercury in the sunlight.
“I see you’ve managed to return the focus of the conversation back to me,” he said, sparing her a brief but perceptive glance.
“Yes, well, as recreational director it’s my job to urge guests to relax. Discussing the reasons for stress in your life makes you aware that you need to change your routines and habits. Whatever works, whenever it works, is my motto.”
“You’re shrewd, Mo,” he murmured. “This is kinda like a cattle drive from days gone by. Cowboys moseyed the livestock along the trail at such a leisurely pace the dumb creatures never realized they were being led to slaughter.”
Moriah wrinkled her nose. “I’m not sure I appreciate that comparison.”
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t sure I wanted some wanna-be psychologist picking around in my brain and analyzing me six ways to Sunday, either. But hey, here I am, opening up to you when I had no intention of doing it.” He tossed her a quick grin. “That’s progress for you.”
“Minimal progress,” she qualified. “You were about to tell me what your life was like when you assumed responsibility for your kid sisters.”
“Was I?”
“Yes, you were. If I can spill my guts to you, then the very least you can do is return the favor.”
Jake nudged the sorrel in the flanks and clomped down the path. “I had two teenage sisters to raise, a fledgling business to run and a social butterfly of a fiancée who expected, and demanded, more attention than I could provide. She’s a blue-eyed blonde, by the way,” he called over his shoulder.
“Ahh…” Moriah said insightfully. “That’s another reason why I kept getting vibes of resentment from you. You were transferring your frustration toward her to me.”
“Yeah, I suppose,” he admitted. “But thankfully, you’re turning out to be nothing like her. Anyway, Shelly was jealous of my loyalty and devotion to my sisters. While I was trying to give my sisters special attention during a crucial time, Shelly found herself a sugar daddy who could provide the expensive gifts and fawning attention she thought she deserved, being the goddess she was and all.
“I walked in on her and lover-boy at her apartment one night when I wasn’t expected. By the time Shelly got through twisting the incident around, she made it sound like it was all my fault she looked elsewhere for affection and attention. That’s when I figured out that I wasn’t too good at relationships that didn’t involve dependence from the party of the second part. The humiliating rejection stuck like a dart through the heart and deflated my male pride. Thankfully, I was smart enough not to make the mistake again. Besides, I had my sisters to raise and my business to run. I didn’t have time or the inclination for anything else.”
So he understood what it was like to be jilted and to have people depending on him. They had more in common than she first thought. “And since that time it’s been you and your sisters against the world, until they married.”
Jake nodded his raven-black head. “Pretty much. But at least Kim and Lisa turned out all right. My parents would be proud of them. My folks were devoted to each other and to us kids. It only seemed natural for me to follow the example of keeping the family united and strong.”
“But then, you got yourself stuck in a monotonous rut,” she commented gently. “It was your loyal and devoted sisters who came to your rescue.”
“They bound me over to you, the ungrateful little brats,” he muttered sourly. “Turncoats, is what they are. To think of all I’ve done for them!”
“They obviously care deeply or they wouldn’t have made these arrangements,” Moriah assured him.
“Yeah, so here I am, pussyfooting around at the resort, wondering if any work will get done at the shop during the next two weeks, pacing the floorboards with nothing to do but wait for you to show up and lecture me on the error of my robotlike ways.”
“But you’re making headway,” she encouraged him. “Twenty minutes ago you had a stranglehold on the reins. Now you’re relaxed. That’s progress. All we have to do is get you to let it all hang loose.”
“In this underwear? Are you kidding?”
Moriah snickered. “See there? You can even joke around and laugh at yourself. Yesterday that was an impossibility. You were too uptight and angry to do anything except bite my head off. Our next hurdle is to get you to do something impulsive, something totally unplanned, unexpected and off schedule.”
“Hey, I can be impulsive if I feel like it,” he said, affronted.
“Couldn’t prove it by me, Mr. Predictable,” she teased him. “When was the last time you hauled off and did something totally out of character?”
He frowned pensively.
“Well?” she prompted.
“Don’t rush me. I’m thinking.”
“That’s your problem. You do too much thinking and planning and moving along according to routine,” she told him.
He swiveled his head around to focus directly on her. “You want impulsive, do you?”
“Yeah, I do. Climb out of your rut for once in your life, Jake,” she encouraged him. “It’s okay to make time for yourself. Just go for it. Kick up your heels once in a while. Do something different. Do something impetuous, if only to prove to yourself that you can.”
“Fine. You want extemporaneous and impromptu? You’ve got it.”
He leaned over to snatch Moriah off the saddle and planted her on his lap—facing him, her legs straddling his hips. He bent his head and kissed her. It wasn’t just a playful little peck on the cheek, either. It was a hot, steamy, burn-off-your-lips kind of kiss that demanded a response—whether you meant to give one or not.
Moriah hadn’t planned on wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing up against him. She hadn’t meant to let him invade her mouth with a second plundering kiss that stole the breath clean out of her lungs. She didn’t expect him to clamp his hands around her rump and haul her against the hard evidence of his arousal. She didn’t expect to feel the blaze of desire frying her alive. But there they were, climbing all over each other on top of Ol’ Sally who didn’t so much as twitch her ears in objection.
The mare stood there docilely while Jake and Moriah got it on like a couple of hormone-plagued teenagers going at it in the back seat of a car. It was the damnedest thing Jake had ever experienced in his life. One minute Moriah was daring him to be impulsive, and poof! He dragged her to him and kissed her like a starving man devouring a feast. And worse, Jake couldn’t seem to get enough of the taste and scent of her. Every time he came up for air he found himself craving more. He stared at her kiss-swollen lips—and she stared at his—and they came together again like fire and dynamite.
That long dry spell must’ve caught up with him, because he was so hot and bothered in the time it took to blink that he felt the insane urge to peel off his clothes and follow this wild impulse to its natural conclusion.
The feel of her full breasts mashed against his chest, the feel of her parted thighs resting on his own drove him right out of his mind. Mercy! He didn’t need a caffeine zing when these sizzling sensations were bouncing through his veins like pinballs. Desire definitely had a stronger kick than coffee and chocolate combined.
His self-control hit the skids and his hands developed a will of their own. They mapped the full swells of her breasts, feeling her nipples harden against his prowling fingertips. Her nails raked over his back as he skimmed her ribs, measured the trim indentation of her waist and scanned the flare of her hips with his hands. Damn, she felt as if she were made to fit into his hands, fit against his aching male body.
Light-headed from panting for breath, Jake experienced the sensation that he was tumbling off balance. Too late, he realized he and Moriah truly were off balance. Ol’ Sally had decided to step down the steep incline to have herself a drink at the river. When she lowered her head to slurp water Moriah and Jake were left with nothing to hold on to except each other. They somersaulted pell-mell over Sally’s downcast neck and landed with a splat—their arms and legs tangled up worse than a pretzel.
Jake floundered upright, after swallowing a couple of gallons of water. He burst to the surface like a spouting whale, then glanced wildly around, trying to locate Moriah. She surfaced three feet away from him. Her long hair was plastered against the sides of her head and her eyes were as wide as serving platters. Sputtering, she struggled to catch her breath.
Gape-mouthed, she stared at him and he stared back, his jaw sagging on its hinges. She appeared astounded—as he was—by kisses and caresses that carried the impact of a nuclear blast.
He should say something, but his tongue seemed to be stuck to the roof of his mouth and his waterlogged brain had short-circuited. He wasn’t sure what to expect from Moriah. Anger and indignation, probably. After all, he hadn’t exactly asked permission to kiss her breathless and put his hands all over her. Jeez, he couldn’t believe he’d done that! What the hell happened to his sense of decency?
“Hey, you said do something impulsive,” he said before she could jump down his throat. “Besides, your flower garden ensemble needed watering.”
Boy, that was totally lame, he thought with an inward groan. He expected her to rear back and slap him—it was what he deserved. Or at the very least, chew him out royally. Most women he knew would’ve been furious about getting their hair and makeup ruined by a dunking in the river.
“Well,” she said eventually, “I did ask for impulsive, but that wasn’t exactly what I had in mind. Next time I’ll be more specific.”
When Moriah took an impromptu swim he decided to join her. For sure, he needed to cool his heels—and other parts of his body that had overheated. He wondered if she was suffering the same need to cool off and put some time and emotional distance between that explosive kiss that they had just experienced.
Jake was more than a little relieved that Moriah chose to pretend the kiss didn’t happen, because that was fine by him. She piled on her horse and started yakkety-yakking about ways to reduce stress so his life would become more well-rounded and personally fulfilling. Jake tried to pay attention, he really did, but the way her wet clothes clung to her voluptuous body like a coat of paint was one hell of a distraction.
MORIAH PULLED the cake from the oven, set it aside to cool, and then rifled through her cabinets for vanilla and a sack of powdered sugar. She had decided to make Jake’s birthday an event that would bring her guests and staff together for a party in the lobby. The occasion would serve two purposes—celebrating Jake’s birthday in a casual setting and creating time for informal conversation. There were no power lunches or business conferences at Triple R, and Moriah wanted her guests to function in laid-back settings. They needed to carry on conversations unrelated to business. One of their biggest problems was learning to broaden their focus of interests.