Room...but Not Bored!

She knew what he meant by whatever and was a tad miffed he’d said it so fast. She was reasonably attractive, but he’d written her off like the dude with the surfboard who’d called her ma’am. She put her hair in a bun because it was efficient and it revealed her neck—one of her better features. “The sheet will do for tonight,” she said firmly, ignoring the wound to her femininity. “And you can make other living arrangements tomorrow.”

“Check out your room,” he said, ducking below the top edge of the torn wall and stepping over the baseboard. He offered his hand. She ignored it—she could climb into a room on her own, thank you—and joined him. The master bedroom was only a couple feet larger than the guest room, and held more Jake debris—personal items in cheerful disarray—swim trunks on the floor, T-shirts in a corner, a guitar and a weight bench. He’d really made himself at home in the three weeks he’d been here.

Jake reached past her to pick a pillow off the floor, which he tossed onto the rumpled bed. “Sheets are pretty fresh—washed yesterday—but I’ll change them if you want.”

“I’m sure they’re fine,” she said.

“It’s a great mattress. Try it out.” He motioned at it.

She flashed on the activities that would call for him to put the mattress through its paces and tensed. “I’ll take your word for it.” No way was she lying on a bed looking up at a mostly naked Jake.

He bent beside her and grabbed a T-shirt and some shorts, his thigh muscles flexing, his trunks tight over his butt. Wow. Jake might act lazy, but there was nothing lazy about his body. Not an ounce of fat hid the muscles of his legs, arms and back, and his abdomen was corrugated, thanks, no doubt, to the weight bench. The fleeting image of Jake pumping iron turned Ariel’s insides to jelly.

Jake stood. She dragged her eyes away, but too late. He caught her staring and grinned. “I’ll clear out my gear later so you can catch some zs. Take your clothes off, though. You’ll sleep better.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said.

He seemed to be disrobing her all on his own, so she crossed her arms over her chest.

He smiled. You got me, his eyes cheerfully conceded.

That friendly X-ray stare made up for Jake’s earlier dismissal. Superficial of her maybe, but as a woman she felt better.

“How about I make you a protein and banana smoothie?” he said. “You need potassium. Flying zaps your salts.”

“Thanks, anyway. I’m really fine. Sleep will help.”

“When you get up then.” Jake left the room, taking up the entire doorway as he went. She realized he’d shrugged off the eviction like she hadn’t said a thing. She’d rectify that later—be polite, but firm. Exhaustion and the undercurrent of attraction had weakened her usual resolve. She’d take a power nap and bounce back.

Making sure the bedroom door was locked, she took off her jacket, blouse and skirt—the monkey suit Jake had called it—and slipped her bra off under her slip, which she’d sleep in.

Removing her shoes, she carefully peeled down her silk stockings, pleased the sand hadn’t damaged them. She folded them and placed them on the bureau. Then she collapsed onto the bed and shut her eyes. It felt so good to lie down. Everything would seem better after a nap.

Jake’s coconut smell rose to her nose from the pillow—pleasant, if too intimate. It was thoughtful of Jake to suggest sleep.

She was just drifting off when she heard a series of bangs, clunks and rattles from the kitchen, which was so close in the tiny house it might as well have been in her room. Then came the horrific roar of a blender. Jake making a smoothie, no doubt.

After that, someone pounded on the front door. She heard a kid’s eager voice, a dog’s bark and the scrabble of nails on the wooden floor. God. Her new home was close quarters for two people, especially when one of them was as noisy, popular and, she was forced to admit, attractive as Jake Renner. So much for peace. So much for sleep.

Jake better find a place to stay right away, or she’d find him one herself.

2

JAKE GAVE RICKIE a couple of boards and some paint and promised to help him with the tree house tomorrow. Rickie had haunted the beach house from the moment Jake arrived three weeks ago. He was lonely and his parents were divorcing, so Jake had played catch with him a couple times, then introduced himself to Rickie’s mother, so she’d know he was okay. Then he’d met the sitter—a definite dating prospect, which enhanced things considerably.

He couldn’t break away now, though. He had the bike to fix for Barry and he wanted to be around when his new roommate got up. He turned his CD player down a little, in deference to the sleeping woman, though he thought he’d heard her moving around.

Jumpy. The way she’d barreled into him at the door showed she was wired for action. If she hadn’t been so tired, she’d have had him packed and out on his ass right now. Despite her jet-lagged befuddlement, her knotted hair, business suit and erect posture spoke volumes about her personality. Gung-ho, no nonsense, maximally serious.

He wasn’t moving out, he already knew that. He’d given up his closet of a basement apartment and he liked having room for all his equipment in one place and living where he was working. Besides, he couldn’t afford rent if he wanted the scratch he needed to fund his sister Penny’s trip.

He’d have to get Ariel comfortable living with him—make her life as smooth as the gearing on Barry’s Guerciotti, which he was working on right now—so she’d forget all about him leaving.

He adjusted the triple-gear unit, then spun the pedals. Much better. He liked getting his hands on equipment. That was one thing he’d learned from his father, Admiral Shipshape—how to handle machinery. It made up a little for the commands and the regulations and the misery when he was growing up.

His father better not be as hard on Penny as he’d been on him. Penny claimed not, but she was too sweet to fight back.

That made Jake remember that she was planning to check out the beach house this weekend. Not a good idea with his landlord on-site. Having a teen guest—even one as smart and sweet as Pen—would definitely annoy Ariel Adams. He put down the bike and grabbed the phone to postpone the visit a couple weeks.

“Renner residence, Jake here.” His father. Damn. He hated talking to the man, hated that air of disappointment—thick as the slabs of beef his dad loved to grill in the back yard—that permeated every conversation.

“Hello, sir.”

“Jake Junior, how are you?”

“Fine, sir. Penny there?”

“Yes, she is.” Pause. Stern silence. “You haven’t been to the house in two months.”

“I’ve been busy. Charters and a house-painting job…” He let his words trail off.

“You owe it to your mother to present yourself from time to time.”

For inspection. Shoes shined, tie straight. His dad was Navy to his bones. “I’ll come out in a week or two.”

“Saturday, the fifteenth? I’ll let her know.”

“That depends….” But the last thing he needed was another argument with his dad. “All right. The fifteenth.”

The admiral was silent on the other end. He had something else on his mind or he would have gone for Penny. These conversations were as awkward for him as they were for Jake. “Made any progress, son?” he finally said. That was Admiral Renner code for settling down—having a real job, a wife, becoming a man with responsibilities, debts, burdens.

“Every day is progress, sir,” he said with a sigh. He’d be damned if he’d do anything in life the way his dad had done it.

Silence. Then his father said tightly, “I’ll get your sister.”

Why did Jake’s heart thud after these exchanges? He was almost thirty years old. It was the shame in his father’s voice. His only son was a footloose bum he couldn’t brag about with the other officers, whose kids were in the Academy or the diplomatic corps or were lawyers or computer whizzes. He felt the shame heat his face. Ridiculous. What did he care what his narrow-minded father thought? Unlike his father, Jake enjoyed life. Enjoyment was not a duty, so Admiral Renner didn’t make room for it.

And as far as being footloose, that was something he’d learned as a kid, thanks to his father’s transfers from naval base to naval base—Virginia to Florida to California. Jake had learned how to let go when he needed to. Now, when things got weird or dull or troublesome, it was easy to just leave.

As a kid, it had hurt, being forced away from things he loved—the swim team, girlfriends, great buds, even teachers who’d inspired him. But he got used to it and it taught him to be flexible, open to new things that were just as worthwhile.

Moving around had been tough, but that was only the launching pad for his struggles with his by-the-book father. Jake had never met a rule he liked, and he made sure his father knew it.

“Hey, Jake,” Penny chirped.

“Hey there, Squirrel, how are you?”

“Good. I got second place in the swim meet.”