Mr. Predictable: Mr. Predictable / Too Many Cooks

“Good. Your sisters will be enormously pleased.”

“They’ll get their money’s worth,” he promised as he circled around to the back of the lodge. “Now, about Bobby-boy. If he tries to give you any lip—verbal or physical—you let me know and I’ll straighten him out again.”

Moriah chuckled at his vehement tone. “That won’t be necessary. Tom usually handles incidents like this when I ask him to.”

Jake’s brows jackknifed. “This happens on a regular basis?”

“No, only a couple times when corporate-executive Don Juans think I should be part of their recreational activities.” Moriah sailed past him to climb the wooden deck that led to her apartment. “Well, thanks for the help. I’ll see you tomorrow, Jake.”

She glanced back to see him standing there with his hands stuffed in the hip pockets of his jeans, his gaze intense. A shiver—born of a source she refused to acknowledge—rippled through her body. She had the impulsive urge to hug the stuffing out of him for coming to her rescue and gallantly walking her home. But she knew she couldn’t stop with an appreciative hug. It was becoming alarmingly evident that her feminine body threw off sparks when she got within ten feet of him—which was good reason to keep her distance. Something deep inside her called out to him, needing and wanting things—like desire and passion and romance—that had been missing in her life.

Gad, she was being ridiculous! She didn’t need those things to make her happy. Her life was rewarding and fulfilling, just the way it was. Stiffening her resolve, Moriah reminded herself that she intended to have a talk with Jake, too, so they could return to solid footing.

“Come in a minute,” she invited as she pushed open the door.

“No, I don’t think that’s such a hot idea,” he mumbled.

Frowning, she glanced over her shoulder at him. “Why not?”

He shifted restlessly from one booted foot to the other, then stared up at the moon, as if it suddenly demanded his undivided attention. “Because, for all my good intentions, I’m still attracted to you. Seeing Bobby paw at you made me feel too protective, territorial and possessive, even when I felt like a damn hypocrite for practically giving you a tonsillectomy…and the other stuff…yesterday morning.”

Moriah felt herself moving instinctively toward him, even when that warning voice inside her head yelled, Keep your distance! You know these kinds of relationships can get tangled up if you let them. Besides, you don’t know squat about interactions and social dynamics between a man and woman. You flunked Romance 101, remember?

She also reminded herself that men occasionally mistook affection for gratitude when she coaxed them into kicking back, relaxing and developing hobbies. Usually, the affection was more along the lines of substitute daughter to father, which included friendly hugs and such. But Jake was only six years older and she was definitely attracted to him—now there was an under-statement if she’d ever heard one! The look, feel and scent of him played havoc with her senses, though she tried to maintain physical and emotional distance. Everything about him was different. She felt different when she was with him.

When Moriah halted directly in front of Jake and stared into his shadowed face, she knew her resolve had failed her completely. Before she could even think to stop herself she pushed up on tiptoe and kissed him, right smack-dab on the lips. And wham! Desire hit her like a grand slam, emptying the bases of her self-control. Jake clamped his arms around her and his lips came down hard on hers. Need roared in her ears while she kissed him for all she was worth.

Moriah couldn’t fault him for brushing his hands all over her, leaving her achy and breathless, because she had her hands all over him, too. She arched against the evidence of his arousal, pressed her tingling breasts against his muscled chest and lost the ability to think, only to feel and enjoy.

“Aw, jeez,” Jake said roughly against her lips. “Here we go again….”

And then he kissed her so ravenously, so thoroughly, she feared her legs would buckle beneath her. Every erogenous zone on her body was pulsating with intense need and the sizzle in his touch nearly electrocuted her. She groaned in frustrated desire when Jake nudged her feet apart and ground his hard flesh into the cradle of her thighs. Moriah clung to him, moving instinctively against him, baffled by her wild abandon, craving more of the delicious sensations pounding through her.

“Damn it to hell!” Jake suddenly stepped away and Moriah staggered for balance, wondering why desire hit her so hard so fast and launched her self-restraint into orbit around the planet Pluto. How could this keep happening? Why was it happening?

Jake raked his hand through his thick raven hair and blew a ragged breath. “I’m not sure these impulsive actions you advocate are good things for me. I came to apologize for kissing you the first time and the kicker is that all I could think about was kissing you again. Now look what’s happened. I’m so screwed up I can’t control or trust myself around you!”

“I started this,” Moriah reminded him unsteadily. “You don’t deserve the blame for what just happened. I asked for it.”

“Yeah,” he said, then gave a self-deprecating snort. “And I delivered. I’m sorry, Moriah. G’night.”

Moriah watched him disappear around the corner and then cursed herself soundly. She’d known Jake Prescott was going to be trouble—a dozen different kinds of trouble—an hour after she met him. Sure ’nuff.

Moriah staggered up the steps, closed the door and stood there staring at her empty apartment. The silence in there was deafening. Needs she’d spent years ignoring were exploding through her body like popcorn. She was magnetically drawn to Jake, hypnotized by those intense chocolate eyes, mesmerized by the needy desire he ignited in her. She couldn’t even begin to describe or categorize the sensations that bombarded her when he kissed her and caressed her. Damn, she must’ve been a harlot in a previous life, because she’d wanted to rip off his shirt and get her hands all over that sleek muscled flesh she’d seen the first night when she’d accidentally walked in on Jake while he was practically naked.

Moriah gulped when she realized her body was still sizzling and her heart was thumping like a nail gun. She remembered, with vivid clarity, how it felt to be wrapped in Jake’s powerful arms, their bodies meshed intimately together, his hands skimming over her feminine contours, her hands exploring his masculine body.

This was not good! This was insane! She barely knew the man, yet she wanted to take their relationship to a deeply intimate level and she never felt that obsessive need hammering at her before.

Good grief, did some latent feminine hormone kick in at age thirty to cause a woman to freak out, despite the good sense she’d cultivated for three decades? For heaven’s sake, she knew she was lousy at romantic relationships. She didn’t know diddly about attracting and holding a man’s attention. For all her extensive education she had some serious deficiencies when it came to relating to a man her own age.

Senior citizens she could handle, no sweat. Jake made her sweat—and that was the least of her reactions to him!

Ordinarily, she kept things lighthearted and casual with her guests. She could joke around with the best of them. But with Jake—

“But nothing. Go make your rounds, then go to bed, Mo,” she ordered herself sharply. “Just because this is Jake’s birthday, you didn’t have to kiss his lips off this evening. You baked his cake. That should’ve been good enough!”

Moriah blew out her breath, then lurched around to return to the lodge. She had warm milk and wine to deliver to her guests. She may have the hots for Jake, but it would pass when he returned to his world and she welcomed another guest to take his place.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to delve into the reason why she was anxious for time to whiz by at supersonic speed. She suspected it had something to do with the fear of developing heart trouble. She had to take the necessary precautions to ensure she didn’t contract the dangerous ailment.

MORIAH FROWNED when she returned from hiking with one of her guests to see Tom, Kent and Chester motioning her to an isolated spot beneath a sprawling shade tree. “Something wrong?” she asked worriedly.

“Yeah, ’fraid so,” Kent mumbled as he swept off his Resistol hat and raked his fingers through his smashed hair. “It’s about Jake.”

Moriah stared at the men in alarm. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Well, for the past week he’s attacked every leisure sport on the premises,” Chester Gray reported, lips twitching. “He got all huffy the first time he showed up to play golf and I told him we didn’t set pars for the course and we didn’t allow scorecards because it makes the game competitive and we don’t encourage competition at Triple R. He played twenty-seven holes of golf, nonstop. He wouldn’t have quit then, but his golf cart ran out of charge and I had to tow him to the shed. It’s the same drill each time he arrives at the course to play a round.”

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