Chapter Seven
Two days went by without Jake seeing Maureen. He assigned a special ringtone to her contact information so he’d know right away if she called.
She didn’t call.
He wished something would happen on the business front that would give him a reason to phone her. But the construction continued smoothly and there were no issues.
Finally he called Cathleen. “Your sister has gotten under my skin. You’ve got to give me some inside information here.”
“Poor Jake.” Cathleen laughed. “You’re out of your depth with Maureen. But what did you have in mind?”
“She always seems to have the weight of the world on her shoulders. I’d like to see her let loose and have some fun for a change.”
“Excellent idea. Since Rod’s death she’s been keeping her nose to the grindstone. Actually, that’s what she’s been doing for years.”
“Does she have any hobbies or interests?”
“Hmmm…she used to be a real wiz at tennis.”
Not a bad idea. Tennis wasn’t a date. It was the sort of thing buddies did together. And business partners?
“And, Jake—let her win. Maureen loves to win.”
He swung his free aim gracefully through the air, already picturing the moment he’d plant that last serve just out of reach of Maureen’s racket. “You know what, Cathleen? So do I.”
*
“Maureen? Jake’s here, and he wants to talk to you!” Maureen heard Poppy call to her up the stairs. She’d set up a desk in her bedroom, where she was completing some unfinished work for one of her clients.
“Just a minute!” She saved the draft of the email message she’d been working on, then shut down her laptop. Why would Jake be dropping by? She paused at her bureau mirror to dab on a little lipstick. Maybe there was a problem with the business.
She ran lightly down the stairs and ended up in the kitchen. Abruptly, she stopped at the sight of Jake in a pair of shorts and a white, collared T-shirt.
“Is that a tennis racket in your hand?” she asked.
“No, I’m just happy to see you.”
Poppy, drinking coffee at the kitchen table, sputtered. Maureen frowned. Evil plans were underfoot. She could just tell.
“I was hoping you’d give me a match,” Jake said.
“Well, I’m sorry, but my racket’s in storage.”
“I have a second in the car.”
Maureen glanced at her watch. “I need to collect Holly from school in half an hour.”
“I can get her,” Poppy offered quickly. “I’m running to town for groceries anyway.”
Now Maureen knew this was a setup. She planted her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes first at Poppy then at Jake.
“You’re probably thinking you should be working,” Jake said. “But isn’t it time you made room in your schedule for some fun?”
A wild thought went through her mind. He must really like me to have gone to all this trouble. Then she gave herself a mental kick. It’s only tennis.
“I’ll be rusty. I haven’t played in years,” she said.
“Good,” he replied. “I’m going to whip your butt.”
*
Jake did manage to win the first game. The second one, too…barely. Maureen was back in form by the third, though, and left him stranded at the top of the court with a well-placed ball at the back left-hand corner.
“My game,” she called, swatting the mesh of her racket She swiveled and positioned herself to serve, knees bent, left leg in front of the right.
“Ready?” She tossed a ball in the air and raised her racket behind her.
Jake tried to focus. It was a hot day for late May—felt more like July or August—and the sun was in his eyes. He really should have worn sunglasses…
Whack! The ball landed hard, making a hollow sound on the clay court. He hadn’t even seen it coming.
“Fifteen love…”
She had the second ball in the air before he had a chance to get back into position. He caught this one, though, sending it low and long over the net. Too long. Damn.
“Out!”
Focus, Jake!
Whack!
“In.”
Not on her legs this time.
He returned her next serve and ended up winning the point. But the game went to Maureen. The next one, too. And the next one.
“That’s the set,” she said, loping to the net. “Want to play another?”
He swung his racket in the air, pretending he had another shot at that last zinger she’d flown by his left ear. “My mother said I had to be home in time for supper.”
She laughed, then jumped the net. “Are you sulking?”
“Your sister forgot to mention you once played Wimbledon.”
She laughed again. “I did play in university. And for a few years Rod and I had a membership at the Peak Racquet Club.”
Tennis was an occasional diversion for Jake. That was going to change. “You have a wicked serve,” he allowed.
“Really? I always thought my backhand was my best stroke.”
She was teasing him, enjoying her win, but he didn’t mind.
Seeing her in good spirits was its own reward.
With a small white towel he wiped his brow, then his hands and the handle of his racket.
He was still a little out of breath and his right forearm ached.
It was a good ache, though, from a hard workout. Nothing damaged.
Maureen zipped her racket inside the cover, humming softly.
“You really do like to win, don’t you?” he teased.
“I do. But it also feels so good to be outside and active and playing a sport I used to love.”
“Then we’ll have to do this again.”
She didn’t even hesitate. “I’d like that.”
*
As Jake drove her back to the B and B, Maureen felt as if she was melting into the bucket seat of his Expedition. She was tired, a very satisfied sort of tired. Almost like that satiated feeling after making love…
She snuck a look at Jake. The expression on his face the first time she’d whizzed one of her best serves past him had been absolutely priceless. Overall though he’d been a graceful loser.
Too often she’d been paired with men who truly resented being bested by a woman.
Like you know who.
“Why did you stop playing?” Jake asked her. “You obviously love the sport.”
“Between work and Holly, there was never time.” Once during her pregnancy leave she’d booked a court time with a friend and asked Rod to stay with the baby. He’d been sullen and resentful for days after that. She’d decided it wasn’t worth it.
That hadn’t stopped Rod from playing tennis with his friends though.
“I know how that goes,” he said. “The wives of my two favorite backcountry skiing buddies had babies last year. Seems like those guys never have any free time anymore.”
“Maybe their wives don’t want them skiing because it’s dangerous?”
“You’re right. There is an inherent element of risk in backcountry skiing. You can follow the rules and educate yourself on avalanche safety. But Mother Nature is always capable of throwing a curveball.”
Maureen frowned at the reminder of the dangers involved. “Have you ever been caught in an avalanche?”
“Not me, no, but I had to rescue a couple of my clients once.”
“Were you scared?”
“Hell, yes! Believe me, I always try to err on the side of caution when I’m out in the backcountry. Avalanches vary in size, of course, but I’ve seen them tear full-grown trees out by the roots. You don’t want to mess with something like that.”
No, he was right. She didn’t.
They were at the turnoff for the B and B. Maureen hung on to the edge of her seat as the truck jostled on the rougher road. First one wide curve to the left, then another to the right. Now the lodge was in plain view. Judging by the vehicles parked out front both of her sisters had dropped in.
“Well, thanks, Jake. I really needed that.” Before she even had her door open, his hand on her shoulder stilled her.
“I forgot to tell you what we were playing for. As the loser, I owe you big-time.”
“That’s okay.” She blinked innocently. “Winning is enough for me.”
He pulled at the ponytail sticking out from the back of her white visor. “I insist. I always settle my debts.”
His eagerness to pay up was very suspicious. “Forget it, Jake. We never even made a wager.”
“I owe you dinner,” he insisted. “Saturday night. Seven o’clock.”
She might have known it. “That’s very sneaky of you.”
“You don’t have to consider it a date.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t.” She reached out to touch the bridge of his nose. “You got a little sunburned. You should put on some cream.”
He caught her hand before she could retract it.
With his gaze on her eyes, he lowered his head.
She just had time to close her eyes, to tilt her head, before their lips met.
His were parted and warm and she could taste the outdoors as she adjusted hers to accommodate him.
A second or two of sweet toe-curling bliss, then he pulled back, letting go of her hand and tugging her ponytail a second time.
All of a sudden Maureen was sixteen again, rediscovering the excitement that was possible from one tiny kiss.
She stared at Jake’s lips, still moist from touching hers.
He had a beautifully shaped mouth, quite likely his best feature.
Raising her gaze a little, she became mesmerized by his eyes.
Swirling in those light blue pools were promises of pleasure that weakened her knees and turned her previous opinions about the future of their relationship into mush.
If one kiss can be this marvelous, think of the other possibilities…
“I didn’t intend for that to happen,” he said softly. “Some silent business partner you are. When are you moving into your new town house?”
“Just three more weeks and a bit. I can hardly believe it. Between selling my house in Missoula in a flash and a new one being available so quickly, there’s been almost no breathing space.”
“Maybe it’s a sign that this was meant to be.”
Maureen knew he meant her move to Whitefish, not her partnership with him. Still, she did suddenly have a sense of inevitability where he was concerned. Regardless of whether it was right or wrong, smart or insane, something was going to happen between them.
And, judging from that kiss, it was going to be very thrilling when it did.
*